Sometimes Your Vagina Is Going To Burn

Evening of Day 7 - 

Michael: Everyone! Listen up! Okay. So, I have some advice for tomorrow. First, do not shave ANYTHING. You will burn. Second, MEN, I recommend that you wear a condom. Just trust me. Third, LADIES, I know it does not sound pleasant, but if you have vaseline, you should make good use of it and put it all over your lady parts.
Everyone Else: Ummm...

Afternoon of Day 8:

Michael: Do not throw that used condom at my face. Do not do it. I can't believe you just put a used condom on my face.

So, I guess all that is left to do is explain how we got from A (condoms and a vaseline hole) to B (used condom on the face). Birthright was showing us how to make Jewish babies. Obvi. Fine. That's not what happened. You can't make Jewish babies with condoms, unless you make a condom balloon baby (glad my name is officially linked with condom balloon baby). Turns out that Birthright or as I prefer to label us "Shnoz with a Cause" was making its way down to the Dead Sea. Fact: the dead see is the lowest point on earth.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Dead Sea, it is the saltiest sea on the planet. Meaning, hoes be floating:

Exhibit A: I am not holding myself up. Nor are my two watermelon colored children floaties for boobs holding me up, despite what it may look like. It's all salt. Sorry peppa, but it looks like you're the Jan Brady of this trip. 

Since the Dead Sea is the saltiest sea on the planet, there are certain precautions that must be taken to avoid injury, but mainly embarrassment. First and foremost, you must not shave. Shaving is like having an open cut waiting to get burned. And let's be honest, Jews aren't necessarily known for their lack of hair. That means a million burning open wounds. But, not shaving was common knowledge. What was not common knowledge was the vulnerability of those natural holes in our body.

Michael, our group leader, was kind enough to share some tips to avoid burning sensations that should only come with an STD or a fire in your pants. Men were told to wear condoms to avoid a salty stinging sensation in their flopper. Women were told to lube up with the container of Vaseline we brought to Israel. Right. Because when I pack for vacation I always remember to bring my Costco sized jar of Vaseline.

Well, Michael's advice caused quite a bit of commotion. The men did not know how they were going to keep a condom on their ding-dong if they weren't aroused. Okay, time to grow up: penis, penis, penis. See, I can use the real word. Now that that's over with. The men were stressing, but then they figured out that they were only floating in the water and not flopping around (pun intended). So, condom on the floppy ding-dong problem solved. Don't worry Israel, your Dead Sea won't have a bunch of used condom balloon babies floating around. Now for the whole Vaseline issue. Yeah, why don't you tell 25 girls to smother their vagina with petroleum jelly and see what kind of reaction you get. "Are you trying to give us a bladder infection?" Needless to say, we all learned a lot about each other that evening.

Despite the advice, I decided to skip the Vaseline facial and risk the burn. I tip-toed into the water because just like your "first time," moving slower will obviously protect the hoo hoo. This needs to be a song:

Girl if you forget to take it slow
you're probly gonna cry
cuz the stinging's gonna blow

I digress. About ten minutes later, my whole body was in the water, floating stiffly. As you can see above, I floated. As you can see below, my vagina was in immense salty burning pain:

Can you see the fake constrained smile? I am not pooping in the water. In between my gritted teeth I am saying "ow,ow,ow,ow,ow."

And that was my experience in the Dead Sea. But, the story is not over. Remember that little "do not throw that used condom at my face" incident. Well, turns out the whole "wear a condom and Vaseline your holes" was a practical joke, which no one knew of until it was too late. I guess one of the boys was not too happy about the practical joke. Hence, condom to the face. Michael sure is lucky a female did not get angry about the joke.

It's Legit.

Guess what this little Jewish drummer girl did? Israel. Wait. No, I didn't do Israel, but I did take advantage of my Moses blood and go on an all expense paid 10 day trip to the motherland. Charlie Sheen's tiger blood may come with two schichsa goddesses, but my Moses blood comes with multiple rich menches who like to send impressionable young adults on free trips to Israel to facilitate the production of Jewish babies. Winning.

All silliness aside (yes, I can be serious...occasionally), this was the most influential and inspiring trip I have ever been on. Since there were so many emotions (ups, downs, and any other direction an escalator travels), I am breaking this vacation into multiple posts. The serious aspects will be respected and get its own post. Prepare yourself because it will lack awkward and reveal some of my other layers. That's right. Baby's got layers like a cake. Vanilla. The amusing and funny parts will get their own post as well (all I have to say is burning hoo-ha).

Sababa.

San Francisco Let Me See That Thong

Let me know if you understand the title of this post. You are awesome if you do.

Me and my jet-setting awesomeness went to San Francisco last weekend. I love SF because it is the city of stereotypes: hippies, gays, and druggies, OH MY!  Wrap it up in a tortilla and call it heaven.

Vacation began with an awkward encounter on the plane. I was really looking forward to getting groped by airport security but I gueeeeeeeeeeess I don’t look like a terrorist or my boobies are not big enough, so that didn’t pan out. After missing out on some airport action, I got to sit next to a hot little number on the death trap. Well, he was like 50 and had 2 kids but let’s pretend he looked like Colin Firth and wanted to make out with me. So, Colin offered me a free drink ticket and of course I say “Oh, no thanks, I’m saving myself.” Wait. What? WHO SAYS THAT? I mean, besides Mel Gibson. 

Anywho, lovermuffinbffslutbag – aka Audra – picked my ass up from the airport and surprised my Kim Kardashian booty with homemade chocolate chip cookies. Since Rachel refuses to feed my fat face and there is no such thing as a “microwaveable choco-crack cookie,” you can only imagine how rarely I get to make-out with a homemade cookie. Mmmmmmm. Dear Audra, if you want to keep the fire burnin, send me cookies. Please and thank you. 

Friday was spent with my NEWLY ENGAGED BESTY and her fiancée. Bomb diggity. We talked wedding and drank wine at a nifty little spot on the water. Then I lamented how I have one less friend to compete with me for Brett Michaels love on Rock of Love: Season 15 – The Adult Diaper Years. Once my tears dried and left streaks of orange bronzer on my cheeks, we ate tacos and drank alcohol and got to hang out with the inventor of HJ’s on Tractors (check your local fetish store around 2012). I can probably get you an autographed video. Not to brag or anything.

Saturday = Wise Sons Deli = Crap my pants delicious deli food. No offense San Di-Goy-go, but when it comes to deli food I feel like Moses would if you dropped him in China and told him to find a latke. Lost, starved and confused. Thank God, my friend Evan Bloom just opened his awesome deli in San Francisco. Here comes my shameless advertisement: 

Are you searching for mouth-watering corned beef? Ever find yourself craving a gargantuan homemade bagel with a hefty helping of cream cheese AND lox?  Well, tell your stomach to grumble no longer because your Jewish cravings have been answered! Wise Sons Deli. Bitch. 

I threw that “bitch” in for flavor. The salt of my sentence. If you are reading my blog and you live in SF, then go to Wise Sons and God will grant you one wish and give you one kosher turkey leg. 

The rest of my Saturday consisted of hanging with my lovermuffin and my cousin and shopping for some naughties. I won’t mention who bought the naughties because I don’t want that person to be embarrassed. SEE, I DO HAVE A SOUL. So, um, then we waited an HOUR AND A HALF for some damn tacos. But, we were with good company (my other engaged friend and his fiancée) and the tacos were tacolicious, so it was all good. You would be laughing right now if you were part of that nifty group because the taco place is named tacolicious. Wicka wicka whaaaaaat! Pickle boob. 

I am so tired of writing that I am not making sense anymore. Here are some pictures for you to touch:

Kill Fat Bitches, yo.

Okay, LOOK CHALLENGED!

Mama said knock you out, so I'm gonna knock you out.

    

FIN.

They Sell Nuts in Street Carts

During the week long vacation my law school thinks is enough to repress the the puke inducing memories of studying and reading a silly document called "The Constitution," I took a little trip to New York. And, no, I am not going to reference that stupid Jay-Z song, while telling you about my trip.

After living in San Diego for two years and having a mom that looks like she has J-Lo's bronzing crew, I have developed quite a complex regarding my "no darker than an uncooked chicken" skintone. I mean, you know it's bad when a guy who is trying to hit on you says "Damn, girl! You Vampire white." Damn, boy! You are never going to see a vagina. Anyway, it was refreshing to go to a city where my pale is NORMAL.

No Snooki bronzer here. Just my all natural pale + my "look I just had a stroke" smile.

Since I was only in the city of 30 Rock and Gossip Girl for 3 days, I had to get my priorities straight when it came to what I wanted to see and do. Empire State building or 30 Rock building (aka Rockafeller Center)?

30 ROCK BUILDING. DUH! That's me on the zillionth floor of the building. You probably didn't notice the word "boobs" on my chest, but in case you did: I really love this picture but my boobs looked like they could have bitch slapped Dolly Parton's boobs back to an A-Cup. Hence, I took the liberty of censoring and subtitling. You're welcome.

Obviously, the only reason I went to Rockafeller Center was in hopes of running into my bestie Tina Fey. I mean, when you approach most of life's problems wondering WWTFD (What Would Tina Fey Do?), it's pretty much written in the stars that you'll randomly run into TF.

Yeah. That's Tina in the same spot where I was posing. She said "Hi" to me and now we're on a first name basis. She's probably going to read my blog. Not to brag or anything. FINE! It was just my imagination, Smokey Robinson. But, someday. Someday, she'll be making that face when she's thinking "WWLRD." Word.

I am kind of tired of writing, but I will leave you with this:

I met a man in NY. He introduced me to his pigeons, so it's kinda official. I did have to fight that old broad for him but it was worth it. He feeds me birdseed.

Studying is Killing Me, So I'm Making a List

Finals are rapidly approaching, rapidly meaning in one month, and I have the itch. The itch to do something other than study, such as plan. I love planning things because it gives me something to look forward to. I mean, spur of the moment is exciting, but it provides ZERO incentive to not gauge my eyes out. So, instead of sitting in the library thinking "I would rather be sitting on a beehive," I can think "In only one month I get to _______ ." Hence, here is my summer to do list:

1. Go camping memorial day weekend
2. Learn how to Salsa without looking incredibly white
3. Go to NY and be a complete and utter tourist
4. Use my wonderful Canon and take some freakn pictures
5. Go vegan for a week
6. Cook something new every two weeks
7. Throw an awesome themed party
8. Go to a Hockey game
9. Eat something I would never ever try if it weren't for my present library boredom
10. Go to as many baseball games possible
11. Read 5 magazines outside of my comfort zone
12. Go to a strip club
13. Become a certified Scuba diver
14. Go to the roller derby
15. See a movie in 3D
16. Make a family style dinner for friends
17. Sky dive
18. Go on a mini-roadtrip BY MYSELF
19. Become a Carney for a day and fly on a trapeze
20. Do not binge eat one thing. NOT ONE.
21. Go to a Play