The Itch: Part III
Today, the most blessed event of my entire week in LA.
Hey mom, guess what I DON’T HAVE anymore???
Let me guess. For those of you who missed Part I and Part 117 of the Odessey of Teen Bikini Shaving, go here: I Got An Itch and The Itch Part 117. That should bring you up to date. Now, if you’ll leave me with my sunset and Pina Colota, I bid you adieu from La La land.
P.S. For those of you who don’t get the relationship between this picture and shaving, there is none. I just wanted to make you jealous of how fucking fantabulous the view from my balcony this week was. But no worries. Tomorrow, the big dirty apple will be under my feet again. (I know it’s been keeping you up nights.)
Paris Hilton Sighting
I had to go to THE IVY while in LA. Ok, I didn’t have to, but I figured Bella’d get a kick out of the celeb hot spot. (I didn’t realize that 2 salads and $90 later…)
The Paps were out. THEN I remembered. Yesterday, when I walked over to make my res, I saw John McCain’s name in the book. JOHN MCCAIN was in there. I was as giddy as the first time I made out with Dave Anish at my first makeout party, before I realized French kissing is an acquired taste.
“Mom, you’re NOT going to pose with him ARE YOU?” OF COURSE. “But you HATE him!” So what? Why should that matter?
But it wasn’t John, it was PARIS. And THERE SHE WAS with Joel or Billy or Billy Joel or whatever his name was. I whipped out the cannon. “I’m sorry, no photo taking,” scolded the matre’d. Shit. Caught. Embarrassed, I slipped my camera in my bag but not before a Pap saw. “Look out, tourist coming through, “yelled the Pap. FUCK YOU!
Well, since the camera wasn’t allowed, I figured I would SNEAK a few photos so you could get a feel:
PARIS ATE HERE:
And, she PEED here:
God DAMN those paps are a pain in the ass. 
Boobs: An experiment in Science and Search Engines
Ok, so I had no traffic today, and I wanted to conduct a little science experiment to see, what, if any, effects this post had on my traffic. And, SORRY, no, these are NOT my boobs, you dirty little devils.
Fear of Flying
I am terrified to fly. Well terrified doesn’t exactly describe my white knuckled,wordless trapse across the country. I don’t take drugs, drink or otherwise occupy myself to make sure that the flight attendants don’t carry me off in a straight jacket. I just sit there and pretend that, well, I’m NOT flying. Top 10 reasons for fear of flying:
10) Falling out of the sky from 35,000 feet.
9) Sharing the air with 265 coughing, hacking people.
8) Crying babies for 6 hours.
7) Paying $10 for food that is unidentifiable. I mean, shouldn’t that be included with my $400 ticket??
6) Sharing a teeny, tiny cube of a bathroom with 265 coughing, hacking people.
5) Having seen the movie
4) Having headphones that don’t work
3) Getting a middle seat
2) Sitting next to a sleeper who leans on your shoulder
1) Spending 6 hours on a plane with no where to go while Bella talks non-stop about bangs, itching, Dumb Boy, insecurity, pimples, and why she hates sceince class.
The thing is, once I do get over the fact that I am 7 miles up, with only the pilot between me and an early demise, the feeling that I have when I look out over the snow capped rockies is only topped when eating the hottest hot fudge sundae while having a foot massage, surrounded by 6 nearly naked young men fanning me who whisper sweet nothings in my ear. (naked just doesn’t seem right)
Barack, Hillary or John…I Will Vote for You If…
So after my extremely STRESSFUL week dealing with ITCHING, and the fact that I am going to LA today for vacation, (yes, I am going to LA and I like it. So shoot me) I really couldn’t think of much to write. I am drained. Nothing like politics to keep the old brain going. So, those running for office, heed the below: What you need to CHANGE to get MY vote:
Numero uno:
Numero dos:
And mucho importante, numero tres:
There ya have it. Forget about health care, race relations, Osama bin Whatever, taxes, job security, homeland security, social security, and whatever nonsense you keep lying about. Oh come on, you know I am right. They are all lying. Let’s keep all of this in perspective about what is REALLY important. Really.
See ya in LA LA land! I can’t wait. California here I come!
The Itch: Part one hundred and seventeen
So, the itching hasn’t stopped. Last night, Lara with the PhD in “how to drive your daughter”, crazy took a peek and everything looked fine to me, but then what do I know, it’s not like I have any other qualification other than to me they all look the same, and unless there’s a dog or something hanging off of it, I wouldn’t know a rash from an insect bite, from some other disease (not that I’ve seen more than the average gal who sometimes takes a shower in the gym with other women.)
So Bella, being the somewhat* higher than average maintenance 15 year old swore she could NOT go to school today, unless this issue was checked by a true professional doctor, one who actually went to medical school, not just got their MBA, so go figure. Who am I to argue? But then, when we found out that the doctor wouldn’t be ready until 10:45 and she would miss nearly a whole day at school, Bella asked me if she could go to my gyno.
“My doctor? You couldn’t get into to see him for a week.” And the response wasn’t a WEEK? The response was: “HIM, YOU GO TO A MAN DOCTOR?” To which I blithely replied: “Yeah, I feel a little weird with a woman”.
Weird with a WOMAN? And you don’t feel weird with a man?
Well I feel weird with both, but less weird with a man.”
What do they do when you get examined?
They make sure it’s all OK and your ovaries and everything is healthy.
YOUR OVARIES!!??? Do you know how far up your ovaries are?
Well, um, yes, I suppose I do. But listen, you don’t have to worry about this, until you do the hoochicoochi.
I am NEVER, EVER, not in a million years EVER having sex.
Fine with me. Just perfect. You have made my day.
I think I will get through today without a single glass of wine.
PS: 10:14 AM- Her cell phone is dead, she went to school according to the doctor’s office, but I’m just a TAD curious to find out what ALL THE ITCHING was about.
** From Wikepedia- The Free Encyclopedia - SOMEWHAT: Somewhat, somewhat? She is SOMEWHAT high maintenance? No, she is over the top, drive me insane, go gray, pull out my hair, scream, yell bang my head against the wall, HIGH FUCKING MAINTENANCE. Can someone please pass the Clairol?
Epilogue– I promise: This is Dr. P and she’s just a little irritated down there. So I gave her some samples of cream. Don’t worry. She’ll be fine. (No shit Sherlock! Now can you give me something so I don’t jump through the cell, when she calls to report, and scream and yell like a banchee that she is driving me crazy and causing me to gain back all the weight I lost last month and if that happens I will be ready to send her back to the babygiver, from whence she came?) “Thanks doctor”.
I Got An Itch
A TRUE STORY ABOUT THE LIFE OF AN ITCH… Mom and teen talk
DAY 1:
Bella: I have an itch.
Me: OK.
Bella: Down by the watchacoo.
Me: Huh?
Bella: You KNOW.
Me: And?
Bella: I shaved.
Me: Why in GOD’s NAME did you shave?
Bella: I don’t like hair.
Me: Wonderful.
Bella: So, how long does it last? The itching?
Me: I don’t know! Why don’t you GOOGLE IT?????
Bella: What do I type?
Me: I don’t know. Maybe: “I shaved, I itch. How long does it last?”
Bella: YOU DO IT.
Me: You shaved. YOU DO IT.
DAY 2:
Bella: The itching is DRIVING ME CRAZY
Me: Don’t shave anymore. Why did you do it?
Bella: Everyone at school does it.
Me: Everyone at school. You discuss watchacoos at SCHOOL?
Bella: Well, Hermoine R. does it too. She doesn’t like hair either.
Me: What in the WORLD is going on in your school? I will tell you WE NEVER discussed that issue when I was growing up.
Bella: MOMMMMMM.
Me: I have to tell you, I don’t know what to tell you.
Bella: Some people wax.
Me: Marvi
Bella: So, how long does this itchiness last?
Me: Until the hair grows back
DAY 3:
Bella: I had to go to the nurse today.
Me: Why? What’s wrong?
Bella: The itching was so bad. Someone ran out and bought me baby powder.
Me: How thoughtful.
Bella: So, how long is this going to last?
Me: I DON’T know. It depends how fast your hair grows.
Bella: Oh NO! It takes at least 3 months.
Me; No, not that long. It’s not like cutting your BANGS!
Bella: I think I can’t go to track on Thursday.
Me: Why not?
Bella: The itching is driving me CRAZY. The rubbing will kill me.
ME: Note to self: Remove all razors, waxers, etc from Bella’s bathroom. Pour large glass of wine. NO, make that a HUGE COSMO. Put plugs in ears. Go to sleep.
Bella: MOOOOOM?
Me: SNOOORRRREEEEEEEE
DAY 4:
Bella: I can be giving myself a fungal infection.
Me: WHAT????
Bella: They told me.
Me: WHO?
Bella: Help.com
Me: Stop it.
Bella: I need to go to the doctor.
Me: I am going to sleep now. Wake me up when you’re 20.
DAY 5:
Cell phone voice mail:
Ms. Dean? This is the school nurse. Bella was in today again complaining about itching. I wanted you to know about it. Can you please call me when you get the chance? Thank you.
PLEASE SHOOT ME NOW. or drug me. Or something. PLEASE.