Ahoy Ahoy!

Yes, I know. Okay? I KNOW.

Here's the thing: If I were a gynecologist, and also a man (or, I suppose, a lesbian), the last thing I'd want to do after a long day spent elbows deep in vajayjays would be to head home and get in one voluntarily. I really don't understand how male gynos do it...Obviously, sex and pelvic exams..NOT the same thing. But when you're prodding at various kitty cats all day, some of which are in a state of...um, distress....are you really going to want to stick your face in another one at the end of the day?

I suppose a better example would be how you knew that friend in high school or whatever that spent the summer working at the ice cream shop, and you were all jealous and "Mmm, free ice cream!" and she was just like "Yeah if I even SEE another scoop of fricking pistaschio I'm gonna pistaschi-hurl."

That's what's up with me.

Part of my job, as I've said before, involves blogging.

And then I get home and I write for my other personal blog (sometimes, though my co-blogger would probably say not nearly enough) (and don't get in a snit, that one is also technically work related...as in, I don't use the word "vajayjay" on it). And then there's a bunch of TV on...and the Red Sox are in the playoffs...and the litter box needs changing...and there are ants in the cats' food...and then I have three Facebook messages to reply to...and wah wah wah.

So I'm sorry, I know I'm like, the awesomest and stuff, but you're going to have to deal with only a few FuUpdates a month. I did 8 in August, 7 in September, if I can bang out a few in October I'll be continuing to set that pace. It's the best I can do! Sniff.

Anyway. Tomorrow (!!!) at 4 a.m. (!!!!!!!!!!!!) I leave for a 7-day Carribean cruise. I'm beside myself. I've even already packed. Normally I'd start at around 340 or so, and just dump the contents of my dresser and hamper into my Jimmy Hoffa suitcase (big enough to hide a body!) and hit the road. But this time I packed last night AND all the stuff I'm bringing is clean. Okay except for the shirt I wore in Boston Saturday night, but it's not like it smells. And I only wore it for a few hours. What? Shut up!

Speaking of vajayjays....One thing I haven't done but wanted to was get a bikini wax. I've never had one, and the cruise seems as good a reason as any. I know this makes me a weirdo amongst women, because apparently at some point in our evolution you all got together without me and decided to save off all your pubes all the time, but I don't go bald in that arena. How do you all do that? Don't get me wrong, I maintain the fairway. Not like this is a "Where the wild things are" situation or anything. But if I take too much off the top my special area starts to resemble all the "before" pictures in the Proactiv ads, know what I mean? So it's like, I can either have some shrubbery, or I can have a nasty case of vaj Rosacea. Which would YOU pick!!?

But. I hear that doesn't necessarily happen when you wax. So I'm sad I didn't get the chance. What is the point of this story? I have no idea. I should go. After all, I need to be awake in 6 hours and it's only 830. Christ!!

Man, fricking vacations. Every time I go anywhere I have to have the "common sense" talk with the FuManchDad, and he's so ridiculous.

Me: Hello?
Dad: Listen, you'd better be safe on this cruise.
Me: Does that mean I can't act out the Titanic scene after 4 margaritas?
Dad: Yeah, don't do that.
Me: What about buying questionable weed off an island man with equally questionable hygiene?
Dad: Questionable as in potentially fake, or questionable as in laced?
Me: Laced.
Dad: In that case, no.
Me: Great, now I won't have any fun.
Dad: You can always read. In your stateroom. With your cash in your underwear so no one will steal it.
Me: I didn't have time to get that wax, so there's really no room in my underwear.
Dad: Now that's just over the line.
Me: What?!?

I promise I'll update when I get back. Maybe. Ahem.