Shaved…for Her Displeasure – Part One

Posted: September 10, 2009 in manscaping, wife

If you came here looking to read about how I shaved my balls, you’re in the wrong place, my friends.

Seriously..what kind of guy do you take me for?

I’m a man’s man.


I did that shit a while ago.

Hey…smooth balls wait for no man.

(making that into a shirt)



Alternate title for this post:

The Breast a Man Can Get

I’m suing Gillette.

Because, seriously…

Gillette: The best a man can get?


Really, Gillette?

You’re REALLY the best a man can get?

I don’t fucking think so.

Let’s leave THAT role to the mighty blumpkin.


Five sentences in and I’m already talking about getting blowjobs on the toilet.

I’m slacking today.

Not sure what took me so long.


I recently had a stress test.

If you’ve never had one, a stress test consists of putting you in a car on a ten-hour road trip with my two children.


Sorry…I sometimes confuse ‘stress test’ with ‘family vacation.’

Same difference, really.

During a stress test, you have all these electrodes and shit attached to you while you run on a treadmill.

Kind of like the Six Million Dollar Man except you don’t get to bang Lindsey Wagner.


Bionic Va-Jay-Jay.

I wonder if when Steve Austin got a boner it did that:


..sound effect.

I bet it did.

I’m going to start doing that when I get one.

You know…as soon as these pills kick in.

Stupid flaccid penis.

What the fuck was I talking about?

Oh. Yeah.

Stress test.

The very first thing that happens when I get in there is I’m asked to take my shirt off.

This is because Edna, a very nice old lady…

…is going to shave my chest.


Yay! Pills work!

I don’t think she appreciated me trying to stick my finger in her ass…

…but that’s usually included in the negotiated street price whenever a woman shaves my chest.

Perhaps I’ve said too much.

So, Edna – having to attach these little sticky electrode things…

…takes her trimmer and shaves my chest.


SOME of my chest.

You see…I have a pretty hairy chest and stomach.


And Edna has to attach, like, 8 of these round sticky things…

(I believe the technical term for these things is “Oprah Winfrey’s udder”)

…to certain areas all over me.

So she clears off only a few spots.

Some here…

…some there.

Leaving me looking like I have fucking crop circles randomly scattered around my torso.

Nurse: “Oh! Look! It’s in the shape of a rooster!”

I was personally offended by the ultrasound technician tromping around on my chest with plywood strapped to his feet, but whatever.

And, so it was with my once hairy chest now appearing like I have contracted some sort of terminal case of mange…

I decided to shave it all off.



I made my own boner talking about my shaved chest.

You know…you never know when these pills are gonna fire that sucker up.


Where’s Lindsey Wagner when you need her?


Coming soon:

“Shaved for Her Displeasure – Part Two – the Unveiling of Fabio”


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