Most Unique Vagina Wax Ever

shaving-pubic-hair-brazilian-wax-landing-strip-590x275Tomorrow my sad, pale little toes will be reunited with the white sandy beaches of Miami Beach. I look forward to laying in the sun, with a cocktail in hand, and swimming in the warm, perfectly blue ocean. I don't miss Florida, but I do miss the beaches.  They are so beautiful. I guess I didn't realize that no where else in the US has a beach that could compare to a South Florida beach until I left.  Sorry New York Beaches, you don't even compare.  From tomorrow until Monday I will be in Miami and Key West.  So you know what that means, I need to shave my legs (When you live in New York, you stop doing that) and more importantly, I need to wax my insanely hairy vagina.  Or Vajina, as it is called in latin culture.  I am usually good at keeping myself well groomed down there but the past two months, I let it ride.  

Every month I am diligent about my vagina hair removal.  And yes, it's for me, not for anyone else.  I like having no hair down there.  My place is in my hood and it is a little overpriced, but it's a block away from my apartment, so that's where I went today when I was pressed for time. My usual hair removal artist (you like that?) was not there when I went in, so I put my vagina in the hands of a cute friendly bubbly woman from Nepal named Anna. I literally put my vagina in her hands.

Her tecnique was like nothing I have ever experienced. She would first to rip the hair off my body. Standard practice. But then she would whisper excitedly, "Yes!" if she got all the hair off that she wanted to remove and then forcefully blow on the newly bald spot to help the pain.  Rip, Yes, blow with force, rip, yes, blow with force.  She blew on every part of my nether regions, including the butt strip.  A women blew on my butt hole. I can't believe it now.  I couldn't believe it then.  It was actually quite calming and intimate in a way.  The whole process took about 45 minutes.  (I guess the two extra steps, added a little time onto the process) but it was so worth it.  She was so excited whenever the hair came out it was like we were going though something together.  At the end, I hugged her and said, "Thank you for saving my life", paid and walked out.  

Miami, I am ready for you, beeeacccch!


An Apology

photo (25)Let me start with an apology.  I'm sorry I haven't written, I'm sorry I've been too busy to be available to you. I like you and I'm totally into you and you deserve better.  Can we start over?  I promise to give you more.  

The past few months have been beyond insane, and unfortunately I put things some things that make me happy, like you, on the back burner.  I spent a few months working for BUST magazine, which was awesome.  I released a web series, which was awesome. I dated an idiot for a few months, which was not as awesome.

But now I feel really good.  I have a little more time for myself, and I look forward to being back. So again, I am sorry.  Below are a few things you have missed since I've been gone.



I went to a bachelorette party in New Orleans: Here is a wang in motion from that experience.  Do you see it? It's literally moving!

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I've had a few run-ins with OK CUPID, so here are some highlights:

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And here is Episode 1 of my webseries, Kelly and Lindsey Do New York.  There will be 5 episodes, and the next one will come out May 4th!!!  Tell your friends <3

I love you, and I'm sorry.  


Who is this Zumba Idiot?

Recently I lost all of my phone numbers.  As I was going through my texts trying to figure out who was who, I came across this old text.  I have no idea who this is, and I think it's safe to say he's not currently in my life.  



"You Have Pregnant Breath. And Mice. Can I See You Again Sometime?"

urlWell, it seems that I have outdone myself yet again in the dating department.  Last night I hung out with a cute boy that I have hung out with several times before. It's nothing too serious... but we see each other every once and a while and we like each other and we're pretty close and he's cute and we are both idiots. We had a really nice night together.  We had some dinner, watched a movie, and then we went back to my place for a drink and to watch the latest episode of SNL.  When we went back to my place, I plopped onto the couch with my Makers Mark in hand, and finally took my shoes off for the first time all day. Time to relax!

We were watching Justin Timberlake sing his cute little face off when out of the blue he casually asked me when the last time I had my period was.  I thought it was a little random, and wasn't sure why we asked, but I didn't think it was anything too out of the ordinary.  Then just as Justin Timberlake came on screen wearing a huge piece of tofu as a costume, he looked at me and said,

"Hey. You smell different today.  What did you eat for lunch?"

"Well, we just had Mexican food so maybe that's it? Wait, do I have bad breath?"

"No, it's not the Mexican, I smelled it when we first met up.  Did you eat anything different today?"

"Well, I had half of a Subway sandwich someone bought me at work.  It had a lot of vegetables in it."

"No, that's not it."

I started to try to smell my own breath.

"I can't smell anything!  Do I have bad breath?!"

"It's not bad.... it's hormonal.  It's... pregnant breath"

I pressed pause because:

A. I was in shock, and

B. Because I love Justin Timberlake and I love Tofu, and they are both delicious and both things were on screen at the moment and I didn't know the next time in my life time that that would happen again. 

"Excuse me?" I said.

"You have pregnant breath.  That's why I asked when the last time you had your period was.  You have pregnant breath.  It's not bad.... it's just... pregnant"


And then a mouse came out from under the couch cushion and climbed up his back and he left my apartment.


Happy Friday!



Sorry I've been MIA.. I've been getting my feet worshipped 

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Best OK Cupid Option This Week




url-1Oh man, I went on the MOTHER LOAD of dates this weekend.  This date really confirmed my  “men are absolutely crazy” theory. 

Super bowl Sunday I went to a very good friend’s Super bowl party at a bar in my neighborhood.  It was perfect, we had the entire downstairs of the bar to ourselves and it was a really cool vibe, couches everywhere, really chill, and a good crowd of cute, straight men, most who I had never met before.  I invited some friends, and I didn’t care about the game necessarily, I just wanted to drink some whiskey with some cute boys, and watch Beyonce shake her perfect booty.

When I arrived, I ran into a guy that I had a met a long time ago through the friend who invited me to the party.  I was happy to see him because the last time I had met him, I thought he was cute, and he had tattoos.  I like tattoos.  I moseyed on over to him to say hello and I felt like we really hit it off.  He was complimentary, made eye contact, and spoke English.  Things were looking great.  Throughout the course of the night, he told me he loved my eyes, and that I was sexy.  So that was cool, and I was totally interested in seeing him again.

We planned a tentative date for this past weekend.  I had my parents in town, my best friend was in from DC for the night and I had a few birthdays I had to hit up all in the same night, so I knew it might be difficult to see him.  I knew he was downtown, where I had to end up anyway, so when the second birthday party was a bust due to a huge line around the corner to get in, I called him to make the drink happen.

Here is where the fun really began:

He picked the LOUDEST bar in the East Village to meet up.  When I got there, I was already regretting it.  I had been to the place before, but for some reason, it was douche bag with bad hearing night and it was loud and very crowded.  I got myself a drink and waited for him… for 20 minutes.  In those 20 minutes, I was already obsessing over the fact that I left my parents back at my apartment, left my good friends at the first birthday party, and now the third birthday party was happening without me. 

He showed up and sat down next to me.  Apparently he knew everyone that worked there and the first 10 minutes, he spent way more time talking to the bartender and his buddies then to me.  I was already not feeling it.  I couldn’t even hear anything he said because it was so damn loud in the bar.  What? I’m getting old.  

His friend left, and I thought “alright, we’re alone now, let’s just go with this”. 

I had just ordered my second drink when he asked me a little bit about what I’m up to, and what my life looks like.  I think he let me speak for 5 seconds, when he said, “I am phenomenal at 3 things”.  “Phenomenal?” I asked.  That’s a ballsy word.  You’re phenomenal at 3 things?  I am good at many things about phenomenal…. That’s huge…

“Okay tell me, kind sir, what are you phenomenal at?”

“One. Sports.  I can play ANY sport.  ANY.”

“And you’re phenomenal at them?” I asked.  I mean, if you are phenomenal at something, you’re famous… the BEST, Better than anyone else…

“Any sport”, he continues…  “Except tennis”. 

Better work on your backhand.  Does that make sense? I said that.  I don’t know anything about sports.

“Two. Dancing…  I’m phenomenal at dancing”….

What kind of dancing? Ballroom, the tootsie roll? Please, tell me more.

“And the third thing I’m phenomenal at is…drum roll please….Eating pussy”.

Wait, I know it’s loud in this bar…. But you heard that correctly. EATING PUSSY.

If the bar wasn’t so fucking loud, you could’ve heard my ice melt in my Makers Mark.  I died.  I died.  I died. Guys, I’m 2 drinks in and he’s telling me he’s phenomenal at eating pussy.  Wow.  What a douche.

If I am phenomenal at something I want people to recognize it in me, not scream it myself from the rooftops.  I am confident…  I own when I am awesome at something… but I seriously cant name one thing that I am phenomenal at… And I am absolutely fine with that.  If that’s what phenomenal looks like, I don’t want to be it.

But it doesn’t end there. 

Then, and I’m only half way done with my second drink, and it’s 20 seconds after the eating pussy line, he turns to me and asks, “can I be really honest with you about something” .  He looks VERY serious

I’m thinking… what? You have no penis… your mom dropped you as a small child and that is why you’re such a dick… tell me please ANYTHING…  ANYTHING is better then you just telling me 30 minutes into a “first date” that you are phenomenal at eating pussy.

“I have a girlfriend”

All my energy dropped from my face, and probably from my vagina. 

“They why are you here?” Why are you WASTING MY SATURDAY NIGHT?

“I have a girlfriend and I feel myself holding back… I can’t be myself.  I’m sorry”

You can’t be yourself?? What else would you have said if you didn’t have a girlfriend!?

Then he proceeds to tell me that he’s in his head about it, he knows she isn’t the one, he’s really into me… blah blah blah…

I just downed my drink, said, “hey I am going to use the restroom and then i'm going to leave”

“Really? Why? “ He asked… like he was surprised that I wanted to leave…

And I just looked him and said, “ If I was your girlfriend I’d kick your ass”.

“But we vibe, I think your cool”…

“I’m not looking for new friends”…

I peed, and laughed a little while squatting in the disgusting New York City bathroom with only half a door so the whole bar could probably see me pee…  He probably saw me pee.

He walked me out, I wished he wouldn’t…. he tried to help me get a cab… I wished he wouldn’t … and I looked at him and said,

“Hey, I had a great time… talk to you REALLY soon”

Listen, I don’t care that he had a girlfriend, I don’t care that he gained a little weight since the last time I saw him (it's winter, I get it), I don’t care that he is not cool enough to be such a dick, but I did care that he wasted my time. 

On my way home, I texted my mom to see if they were still up.

Her response,

“Yes, we are watching videos of people doing the Harlem shake on YouTube”

“Perfect. I’ll be right home”.

My night ended in my tiny little studio apartment with my mom, dad, sister, and dog all hysterically laughing about the three things he was phenomenal at… well Oliver wasn’t laughing, but I could see in his eyes that he thought it was ridiculous. 

Then we did the Harlem Shake.