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Moronic Monday- Fire Crotch

Hello my dear friends today is the day that a lot of us go forth in epic battle against our common foe. Monday.  Monday sucks so bad even the calendar says “WTF”  after a Monday.

As a BeingPeachy tradition I share a story from my past that points out just how big of  an asshat one person can be.  Particularly me. I throw any remanents of pride under the bus like a mobster trying to make a plea deal.   Since this Moronic Monday thing has been going on for a while it’s pretty clear I have only the residue of pride left.

But there is a point to all my self deprecating humor, it is to make you smile and get you through your Monday battle with the hopes that you can be a little less of a Moron than I always am have been.

The setting:  my house, well over a decade ago.
The issue:  I had to wear pantyhose to work every day even in the sweltering heat. That weekend I had been on this mad hiking trip in 3782 degree weather with 700% humidity.  I think I wore jorts because it was the 90’s and I was that cool.   To finish off my trilogy of terror the next day I went to a 50 acre water park and proudly sloshed my wet shorts over my bathing suit wearing sexy self over every inch of that hell pit.

As all most of  you ladies who experience insane heat know there are 3 deadly things to avoid in extreme heat.

1-Long walks/hiking in the heat in jorts ( thigh length jean shorts).
2-Short walks in extreme heat wearing panty hose.
3- Wet shorts over your bathing suit at a huge water park after doing 1 or 2.

So you get the picture.  If you don’t here is a visual aid. My thighs had less skin on them than your knuckles after a cheese grater incident.

Thank you Walt Disney for lending me tinks butt as a visual aid.

Yes even the fold where your butt cheeks meets your thighs was red and skinless. (if you know not which fold I speak of, you’re young show your but off while you can, soon you will be able to hold a pencil there). I know hot right?  You think I’m sexy, you want to kiss me.

I tried everything and let me tell you people soaking in a tub is like sitting in boric acid, not really a brilliant idea when you are in the chaffed thighs and butt hall of fame.

So I sat around the house in a sun dress going commando cause that’s my privilege plus the idea of fabric even possibly touching my thighs made me scream in an octave high enough to break glass.

After about the 30th ibuprofen  chugged down with medicinal vodka. I went to the cupboard like old Mother Hubbard to dig for some type of glorious topical relief.

Then I saw THIS  and I heard Angels singing.

I only saw the parts I underlined. Quick Fix - Relief . blah help. Angels singing

I had never used this product and had no idea how it ended up in my cabinet. Clearly it was divine intervention.  or I bought it when  my kids had poison ivy/sumac/oak.

So I grabbed the tube of angelic cream that promised a quick fix, fast relief and all that jazz. probably because my judgement was impaired due to alcohol and or pain.

I slathered up my thighs and butt like I was putting on SPF Eleventy Kabillion for my trip to the surface of the sun.

Confident in my new found angelic cure I  walked into the living room and flopped my  sun dress wearing commando butt on the couch. The events that followed will be reenacted with interpretative dance since I am pretty sure I either blocked it out or blacked out not sure.

Important information aka the beginning of the end..

This seems like a good time for an important PSA

Sensitive girly parts + RAGING FIRE CREAM OF DEATH =  FIRE CROTCH

I call this one the flaming crotch of death.

In the midst of the medicinal scalding of my lovely lady hump.  I thought fast and headed for the bathroom to rinse of my milkshake and stop the pain. I was so graceful and lady like I heard it looked like a ballet.

I realize that looks like a squid shot out of my crotch, but it's interpretative dance people, those are flames

This ends the interpretive dance section of this post.  ( mostly because I suck at it ).

The truth is. If you ever had a dog, or been at someones house with a dog, or seen a dog in a park or a neighbors yard.  You already know what I looked like.

All reports say this is a more accurate depiction of my movements

and I screamed .. ” E ! E! E!” all the way home to the bathtub, where I flipped myself over the edge of the tub like a walrus and put my hoo hah as close to the ice cold running water as possible for a few hours minutes.

There ya have it guys,  do NOT chemically scald your cooter today and there’s a good chance your Monday will be better than mine.  My name is ThePeachy1 and I suffer from Epic Asshattedness.

PEACH  OUT !

** DISCLAIMER**  2 thighs and 1 Vaj were critically injured during in the making of this post. However they have recovered nicely since it was about a decade ago. They are still in therapy working out their hatred for me.

**ANOTHER DISCLAIMER** this is not a sponsored post, a review or anything other than a story of me being a twit. Obviously who would pay for advertising like that?”

ThePeachy1: ThePeachy1 has been trolling around the interwebz since we were all in loin cloths with Monochrome TRS 80's. Mainly proud, often befuddled, but always amazed mom of 3 awesome kids and wife to "The" techo guru. When not missing vodka, friends, or wondering why more people don't appreciate the PJ lifestyle she can be found lurking everywhere on the web.