Smooth as a Baby’s Butt

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I have known I would fight male pattern baldness since I was a teenager.

If you look at a family picture of men on my mom’s side it’s like a Mr. Clean convention. Wide shoulders, thick legs and shiny bald heads. I figured I would be proactive and in my early twenties started shaving my head. Thankfully enough I have a nicely shaped head. There is nothing worse than a pasty bald guy with a deformed cranium.

I have explored every type of razor and cream possible and even contemplated waxing but the idea of every hair on my head being yanked out makes me want to scream “Kelly Clarkson!!!”

I even called a spa to see about laser removal and was disappointed when they wouldn’t touch my peach fuzz. That it was most usually targeted at particularly furry crotched women.

It seems to me that this is a complete misstep on the part of spa owners. I mean guys need to trim the hedges as much as girls do.

I was sitting in a restaurant with friends one night and a group of girls at the bar near us were discussing the fact that one of them had gotten laser hair removal on her crotchal area leaving only a “Landing Strip”.

I love that name.

Like every time she’s getting into bed with someone,  they grab a couple of flashlights and act like they’re Ground Control and there penis is a 747.

Still, the reactions to hair removal are very different for men and women.

Like this girl getting that landing strip and telling her friends about it in a crowded bar and her friends demanding to see it.

So they drag her off to the bathroom, all giggling to get a peek.

That’s one of those cool things I like about women that you’ll never see happening between guys….

Imagine Joe and Dave:

Joe: “You did what?”

Dave: “Laser hair removal”

Joe: “Everywhere but the legs and arms?”

Dave: “Yeah”

Joe:  “Bullshit! Really? Come on, get out in the garage. I gotta see this”

I just don’t see guys doing that.

I’m sure they peek when you’re changing in the locker room if a guy walks by naked.  They just don’t squat down to eye level of the scrotum and yell out  “Wow that scrotum looks smooth. You do that yourself, or did you get that lasered?”

Not gonna happen.

I would have to imagine getting naked for laser hair removal is the same for guys as getting a vasectomy.

The awkward conversation as your junk is being handled in a clinical fashion by a burly nurse with a hatred for testicles. The shuffling giggles of nursing students as you try to make your penis look bigger by forcing it out the hole as far as it will go.

It questions our masculinity

Even coming out of the Laser clinic must feel weird. Like stepping out of the Ladies washroom and everyone’s looking wondering what you’re doing in there. I would feel like I needed to explain.

“Guys are going in there now. I was supposed to be in there. I have male pattern baldness on my penis!”

One of the highlights would have to be getting your junk out in front of a girl for the first time after getting it done.

Even just telling a girl about it could result in them rushing you off to the bathroom like you were just one of the girls. In the Club.

I even started fantasizing us being at the restaurant someday and those girls rushing me off to have a look.

The non stop questions as they are eye level with my , well, baldness.

“How far down does she go with the laser?”

“In the crack too?” “How does that feel?” ” Is it better wiping?”

“What do you talk about while she’s lasering?””Did she say you needed the BIG laser?”

It’s not like….whatever happens at Laser Salon, stays at Laser Salon. But it’s awkward to talk about.

Women love these details though. It’s like chocolate covered gossip and they enjoy every detailed piece.

So for now I will stick to shaving my…….. scalp.

 

The Homemade Waxing Story

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I don’t think there is a single wall in my house that does not have either a hand print or smear of a hand print on it. It’s a simple occupational hazard. Construction of any kind is generally a dirty job and I leave a trail of marks and smears complimented by a disaster of shed clothes as I head towards my daily Spider-man bubble bath. Some of these marks wipe off with soap and water and others require sandblasting. Still others need a bit more force.

Sometimes we are asked to do things that require us to be under the roof rather than be on top of it. Certain types of ventilation have to have the pipes leading to them insulated to stop moisture from rotting them as condensation gets trapped in them. Usually these can be just wrapped in any type of pipe insulation but that’s just not my style. I like fast and dirty work like a scabby kneed , middle-aged hooker.

In order to do this job, we would be stuck in an attic space that was hotter than the television I bought from two college kids who apparently didn’t need it. No air movement and temperatures in the upper echelon of volcanic meant we needed to move quickly. So, I came up with the brilliant plan to spray foam them. The first attempt we made at it resulted in me losing twelve pounds in just change over four hours and nearly passing out on the way home driving so the decision was made by the building owner to wait until the temperature wouldn’t result in someones corpse rotting away in his ceiling.

As Fall turned into Winter, I got the call from the building owner asking if we were still interested in finishing the job. I replied that of course we were as I had an entire tank of insulation left from when we started the job.

Dart, Steve-O and I made our way up into the blessedly cool attic space and set up the insulation pack as we crawled through the rafters. The concept is pretty simple. Two different liquids in compressed air tanks are forced to combine in a gun resembling the proton accelerator packs the Ghostbusters wear and can rapidly cover and area in yellow sticky insulation that hardens almost instantly. I was marveling at my own genius as Dart wormed his way toward the first pipe and waited for Steve-O to pass him the gun.

Steve-O had just turned the tanks on to full and we heard the hiss of the liquid rushing through the lines. I started doing the money dance that is pretty much me rubbing my hands together and twerking my ass in a fashion that would get me arrested in public. with the first squeeze of the trigger, something seemed off. The insulation shot out but wasn’t sticking to anything.

” Try another nozzle,” I said to Dart as he sat back and watched the yellow popcorn drip off the pipe like an oozing case of diarrhea. The liquids clearly werent mixing properly but I could figure out why.

” Is it frozen ?” Dart asked Steve-O as he tried all different levels of openness on the tanks.

” I don’t think so ,” Steve-O answered shaking his head. He had been trying to clean out the nozzles and it didn’t look like they were plugged. I was watching the profit margin shrink rapidly as time ticked away. In a frustrated growl, I grabbed the gun and pulled the lines out of the end and squeezed the liquids out to see if anything was stuck only to be met with more frustration as it was totally clear.

” Lets’ try this again,” I said as I reattached the lines and pulled the trigger ” Full power please.”

I pulled the trigger and watched as the gun literally exploded in my hands covering me in quick drying yellow foam. I let go of the trigger to look around at Dart and Steve-O as they broke out in hysterical laughter. Yellow liquid was still seeping out of the nozzle like an excited puppy with no bladder control and running down my bare arms. I tried in vain to wipe it off only to spread it even further and ensure every hair under the rapidly congealing liquid was embedded.

” I guess it wasn’t frozen,” Dart laughed as we listened to all the compressed air hiss out of the tanks making the remaining liquid effectively useless. I stood with my mouth open and watched any money we were going to make leak out around my feet.

” Let’s just pack it up,” I said as I began to feel the crust of the insulation hardening even further. I began to pick at it only to feel it pulling the hairs on my arm with it. I pulled a little harder and felt the nerve endings in my arm scream. I was dumb founded. It couldn’t hurt that bad. I fingered I should give it the Band-Aid treatment and just get it over with. With one swift yank, I pulled the eight inch patch of yellow rubber off and screamed as it took every hair with it.

I pride myself on having an exceptionally high pain tolerance but this was recockulous. I was standing in an attic space holding a chunk of rubber-covered in my arm hair with tears streaming down my face and thinking it couldn’t get any worse until I looked down and saw the patch left behind.

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I will be honest. I have no idea how women get a bikini wax. That should be punishment for shoplifting anything larger than a pack of gum. It was the most astonishingly painful thing I have ever felt and that’s saying a lot considering I have been hit in the head with a three-inch thick piece of frozen shingle and dropped a hammer off the top of an extension ladder only to have it nearly rip my ear off. The skin was as smooth a patch of skin I think existed on my body matched only closely by my scalp when freshly shaven.

I find myself watching the hair to see how quickly it grows back and thinking whether or not I could go for a Guyzillian cause it sure beats the hell out of trying not to nick a testicle shaving.