6 shots of black sambuca and a brazillian wax later, i’m now enroute to pick up my keys.
Which i left at the salon.
Left because i was definitly on the swaying scale beforehand? or from post traumatic disorder syndrone after?
waxed in places i never even knew hair existed.
“i don’t like hair” my eastern european S&M wax mistress said.
We then discussed the finer points of ‘The Alchemist’ in between her frowns and my winces (
silently mouthing FUCK)