>>> The Lady's Shave
By staff writer NG Hatfield
August 20, 2006

Last week, reader Michelle said something in the comment box that made me write this article. She said that my last article was “a bit of a lazy effort.” Usually, I’d bitch out any reader for being a snotty twat or snotty twat-like, but this time, I believe she was correct in her assertion. It was a terribly lazy effort. So, first, to wrap up that article, I’m not a daddy. And while I could have written a whole article explaining what happened, well… I just can’t do it in good conscience, because it IS going to be a sloppy effort. No matter what I do.

The truth is, my time here at PIC has come to an end. You see, about three weeks ago, I noticed something odd on my taint. It was a like a pimple, but burned a lot more. Obviously, with something so strange on a region so unfamiliar, I picked at it. By doing so, I infected every hair follicle in the region. So, this Friday, I will undergo a massive laser hair removal surgery to burn out all of the hair from my waist down.

What does this mean? Well, for one, I can no longer call myself an Italian. I mean, having a hairy nutsack is essential to being a wop. So, I’m going to have to change my name to something more appropriately bald-nuts-sounding, like Nick Lachey or Nick Cannon or perhaps something more ironic… like, Nick Bush.

Second, it means that I’ll have to take it easy with sex. Apparently, because my dick is so massive, the doctors are going to have to chainsaw it off and reapply it after. I was told by my family doctor to think of it as cleaning out a car. You don’t want an elephant in the driver’s seat when you’re trying to Windex the rearview. So, they’re going to kill the elephant, then hopefully revive it after my center console has been hacked to bits by something that could write my initials on the goddamned moon. Also, I was told by the doc that the procedure will make me sterile. Thus, before Friday, I’ll be keeping at least thirty dozen vials of sperm in my freezer. Beside the deer steaks and the Tanqueray.

As you can imagine, having sex with Frankenschlong might not sound too appetizing for the ladies, and I’ll have to stay off of it for at least enough time for my balls to work their way down from my chest cavity, after the high intensity laser beam. There’s really no point in trying to write about sex after all of this.

If you’re taking me seriously right now, please send me an email of sympathy, a box of condoms, and twenty-five dollars. I accept PayPal and cashier’s checks.

Okay, but seriously, I’m just as sad as you are; I’ve had a great time writing for this site. We’ve pissed off a few feminists, gotten around those goddamned interventions, had a good time with some rape victims; hell, we even tried to get my friend laid. But, due to the changing nature of things, I’m moving to another website as of Sept. 1st. Of course, I’ll be around PIC with a few front pagers and maybe some snarky comments in DeGraaf’s blog, but as for The Lady’s Shave… well, let’s just say that it’s time to throw out the razor.

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