Outnumbered Two to One

• My sister recently purchased Smooth Away at a beauty supply store.

• The product is supposed to buff away unwanted hair “quickly, easily, and pain free” using something akin to a fine grain sander. Yet when I went over to visit, my sister was complaining she hadn’t been able to remove a single strand. Which immediately made me want to prove her wrong by buffing away my own stylin’ lady ’stache using said innovation…which apparently is all the rage in Europe.

• I actually did get it to work, while simultaneously making the following discoveries.

1. The pressure required to buff away hair using a Smooth Away pad is neither gentle, nor easy, nor painless.
2. While Smooth Away won’t nick your skin like a razor, it will rub away at least two layers of your epidermis in the hair removal process…this is called exfoliation and it burns.
3. Rubbing away the hair on your upper lip is a triumph for about half a minute before you realize that the redness and irritation left behind by Smooth Away is somewhat less attractive than a five o’clock shadow.

• Last week we posted this little number on Ebay:

• We bought her more than a decade ago at Target for about $10, I was going to sell her at the yard sale we had for $1. When nobody wanted her I was going to donate her to Goodwill. For those of you who don’t recognize her, she’s Molly from The Big Comfy Couch and she’s very cute despite her dead eyes…Sunday night the bidding for Molly ended at $73. Including the two other items we sold, we made more than the entire profit we earned at that dreaded yard sale in December. And as a bonus I didn’t have to walk away from the transaction feeling used and humiliated. Score.

• For my birthday last week my mom got me a couple of shirts from Ross. A nice gesture considering she’s currently unemployed and short on cash. The problem was the tops she purchased look like something straight out of her closet - gauzy materials with colorful patterns and lots of pleating and ruching. Fine choices for her but these are things that I would never wear and they’re unlike anything in my wardrobe. It’s like I’m fifteen all over again and she’s pressuring me to buy the magenta parachute pants that she thinks would go great with a pair of patent leather pumps. It’s like the woman has never met me.

• My dogs are harbingers of death. They like to eat birds and since it’s Spring, the feathered delicacies are just falling from the sky. One year I found a mess of green and blue feathers, along with the gory bottom half of some kind of avian, in our back yard. I scooped the gross remains into a plastic bag while shouting obscenities at the dogs then chucked the evidence in the garbage can. The next day we got a knock on our door, it was one of the neighbors and her kids, scouting the vicinity, full colored photos in hand of their pet parrot that had recently flown the coop. Behind me, my children stared at her wide-eyed and unblinking, as I let out a nervous giggle, shook my head and closed the door behind me. For days my daughter was anxious that the pet police would come to bring our dogs to justice. As of yet they’re still at large…a threat to slow flying birds everywhere.

To join in the randomness visit Keely - The UnMom, there’s plenty to go around.

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