Monday, October 26, 2009

Real Women Have Beards

Bearded women have always fascinated me. Not in the fact that I think about them all the time, or fantasize about them, or wish I was one. But I have recently noticed that I somehow manage to work the term, "bearded woman" into many conversations. You may be thinking that bearded women are not near relevant to many conversation topics, but believe me: they are. For example:

"My dad got mad at me today for not returning his phone call."

"Does your dad have a beard? Because some women do."


"I've never been to Disneyworld."

"Well when I went to Disneyworld I saw a bearded woman."


"It is such a beautiful day!"

"That is EXACTLY the type of thing a bearded woman would say."

It was only a couple years ago that this fascination started. So many questions were arising in my mind...

Who was the first bearded woman?
Why don't we have a national holiday for her?
Would I ever grow a beard?
How many bearded women are there in the world?
Are there more than we think, but a lot of them shave so we don't know?
What man would marry a bearded woman?
Would that make him secretly gay?

And finally...

What would it feel like to shave?

So...being the curious cat that I am, I decided to walk into my father's bathroom and use his electric razor.

...Or at least what I thought was his electric razor.


So I'm shaving away. Here, there, everywhere. I must admit I was thoroughly enjoying the "zzzzz" sound, smiling away as I hit up every part of my face. Left cheek, right cheek, chin, forehead (making sure to stay clear of my eyebrows. I am fond of my eyebrows, I'd like to keep them.), even my upper lip. (not my actual lip, that area above your lip and below your nose...don't know what that's called. I've always referred to it as the "mustache area" but that implies I have a mustache, which I don't. Which leads me to even more questions):

If there are bearded women, are there solely mustache women?
Goatee women?
Soul patch women?
1970's sideburns women?

The point is, that thing was all over my face. Near my lips, my mouth, LIPS. MOUTH. Did you catch that? The areas used for eating, kissing, covering in Burt's Bees, those areas. As I'm shaving away, having a jolly ol' time and humming to myself songs of pure happiness, I see my dad's electric razor sitting on the sink, the one I usually see him use.


That was my first thought.


That was my second thought.


That was my third thought.

The label on the side of the razor I just smeared all over my face, the label I did not care to read until I had put that razor ALL OVER MY FACE, read a little something like this:


Are you confused? Bewildered? Baffled? Are you thinking, " can't be..." Well guess what buddy. IT CAN. I, Natasha Ferrier, had just rubbed my father's pubic hair "trimmer" all over my fucking face. The same device my father uses to trim his pubes was above, and below, my lips. Are you disturbed? Disgusted? Imagining pubic hair? You sicko. And, if you think "Body Hair Trimmer" doesn't necessarily have to mean crotch pubes, you're mistaken. How do I know this? Because after freaking out, which went like this:


(Picture Macauley Culkin in Home Alone 2.)

I then ran downstairs and told my stepmom what I had just done. After laughter, since, sure, if it's not you whose dad's pube razor was all over your face, then it's pretty funny, she told me that, yes, the razor is what I thought it was for. What my life? FUCK MY LIFE.

Recap time!

Was/am obsessed with beards.
But only on women.
Women with beards.
Bearded women.
Shaved my face.
Dad's razor.
Dad's NOT razor.
Dad's pubic hair trimmer.
On my face.
For quite awhile.

Kids, don't try this at home.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Fear and Loathing at the Podium

Public speaking has been said to be the number one fear of Americans. I understand that. I know that if I, personally, were faced with the decision of talking in front of a group or getting my eyes scooped out of my skull with a spoon, I would be one blind mother fucker. WHAT THE HELL PEOPLE. You're trying to tell me you get more heebie jeebies in front of a group watching you speak than in front of a group watching you being put six feet under the ground? Shall I reiterate the topic of this rant I am about to conduct?

The majority, wait you didn't quite catch that, THE MAJORITY, of Americans say that, above all things, they are most terrified of speaking. In public. Do we not do that everyday? When you are walking down the street venting out all your relationship troubles and theories on life and how your roommate stole your plunger, other people hear you. Other people, who are in public. Baffled, are you? You never thought of how stupid or random you must sound to a passerby when you're engulfed in your rants to your best friend? You're telling me you've never heard tidbits and fragments of other people's conversations where you just thought, "God that person is an idiot." These are recent ones I've heard:

"No, I'm not talking about my dog, I'm talking about my boyfriend."
What? Did your boyfriend sniff your asshole?

"I eat food."
Oh, do you now? You eat food? Do you breathe air as well?

"I love when the weather is nice."
What a unique individual YOU are.

If so many people are scared shitless of public speaking, does that mean they only speak in private? Who are these "private speakers?" Is private speaking such a term? If so, what would that be exactly? People who will only converse with you if you're in a dark alleyway where no one can see you? People who talk to themselves? People who talk to their privates? As in private parts? As in who the FUCK does that? I NEED TO MEET THESE PEOPLE. I need to meet them, introduce myself, "Hi I'm Natasha yes that's how you pronounce it yadda yadda yadda I've been explaining my name for almost 2 decades thank a lot Mom and Pops blah blah blah" and then punch them in the face. Yes, I do realize that that may come across as "violent" or "unnecessary" or "fuckin weird" but this, I believe, is what these people deserve. It's not that I don't understand. I realize that phobias are beyond our control. I may say, "Why are you scared of public speaking you weirdo," and they can easily rebuttal with "Why are you scared of Oompa Loompas you freak," so you may be thinking this is a lost cause, but before you do, hear me out.

You know when you're talking to someone, and they don't seem interested at all? Not in the least bit? Either they're nodding their head incessantly while going, "Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Uh-huh." in the middle of you speaking, so you know they're really just trying to convince you that they already understand so there's no need for you to continue, or they're staring at you blankly so you know while you're talking they're really just taking what you're saying and relating it to themselves and thinking of tons of personal experiences they're going to spout off to YOU just as soon as you shut your mouth. Some people don't quite catch on to these subtle displays of body language that translate into, "I. DO. NOT. CARE." and they keep on talking your head off. These people suck. But so do the people who don't listen to you. That is why I, personally, do not care to share my personal stories as much as everyone else does because I know they don't give a shit and I know that I'm guilty of doing it, too. As soon as someone mentions an "ex", I start thinking of mine, as soon as someone mentions their parents, I start thinking of mine, as soon as guys start talking about their balls being licked, I don't know what to think. This is exactly the same situation as public speaking, except BETTER. This is why I love, love public speaking. Shall I go into more detail?

I walk up there, podium or no podium. (Podiums were really just invented for people with odd-looking bodies. Can you imagine if our world was podium-less? We wouldn't hear any speech William H. Taft made; we'd just be looking at his big fat body and imagining what a body like that looks like naked. But thanks to the invention of the podium, bodies are hidden and we as the audience are guilt-free!) With public speaking, I can talk and talk and talk and I don't have to listen to anyone else! It's all about me! It's all about what I'M saying, not you! Nanny nanny boo boo mother fuckers! You HAVE to listen to me and if you don't, I won't even notice because I'm not looking at you! No worries about eye contact, or accidentally looking down at someone's chest, or noticing something in someone's teeth and being completely disgusted, or sneezing on someone and completely disgusting them. Here, in the realm of public speaking, I can look wherever the fuck I want and sneeze wherever the fuck I want! I don't have to pause and pretend I care about your response; I can go as long as I want and I won't feel bad about it. Seriously, a million eyes on you is way better than just two. With just two, think how closely you get examined as you speak. With a million, that just means more people who are afraid you'll catch them dozing off or texting someone. YOU have the power; not them.

If you're number one fear is public speaking, and you're reading this thinking, 'She doesn't understand. She just doesn't understand,' then I have three suggestions for you:


Public speaking will be your number one fear no longer.