Dirty Shirley…

By now you know I’m a BIG fan of outsourcing. Anything I can schlep off on someone else is winning in my book. Am I lazy? Perhaps. Or maybe I have the maddest time management skills of all mmmmmkkkay. Could I color my own hair? Sure. Do I? No. Could I wash my own car? Sure. Do I? Nope. Could I do my own nails? Absolutely. Do I? Hell no. Hellen Keller would do a better job than me. My point is…it’s not that I’m too lazy to do these sorts of things, I just prefer to leave them in the hands of the experts. Or something. I often dream of doing more things myself but I’m a bit challenged. I hate reading directions and I have exactly zero patience. No good comes from any attempt I make at being clever. None. I ask you…Where do you draw the line when it comes to outsourcing? At what point are we judging each other for taking it too far? Now…that’s when.

I have a friend whose name sounds like “Sarah.” “Sarah” is a nurse. A damn good one. Recently she took the leap from grabbing balls and waiting for the cough to owning her own cosmetic enhancement business. I went for a visit to see if it was possible to make me any hotter than I am. I know…I know…a challenge fo sho. I was thinking maybe she could tame a few wrinkles or zap some fat. I was overwhelmed by the amount of gadgetry at her disposal. You could literally turn the Elephant Man into Cindy Crawford with her machinery. Apparently, I don’t have any stress wrinkles. Not sure how I avoided those but thank you Jesus. However comma, my jaw line has begun it’s decent to lower altitudes. Not ideal. There’s any easy fix but I have to find a way to hide a few grand from the Hubs before I can lift my jaw back to higher ground. Honey if you’re reading this…just kidding…ughum. I consider these sorts of procedures perfectly acceptable for outsourcing purposes. I know for sure I can’t pick up my own face. Hell, I didn’t even notice it was falling. Good catch “Sarah.”

As I was browsing other gadgets to spend the family fortune on, I noticed an odd-looking chair across the room. Her name was Shirley. Yes, the chair has a name and it’s Shirley. You know how you ask a question and then right after the last word rolls off your lips you suddenly realize you might not want the answer? That feeling came over me just after I asked what in the actual fuck was a chair named Shirley. Shirley is the ultimate outsource. I see your brow wax and give you…” The Kegel” machine. Yes, you read that right. We are now too lazy to squeeze our own girly parts. For reals?! You can literally do Kegels walking down the street, at church, having sex, watching TV…. they go hand in hand with almost anything you are already doing. Yet, we need Shirley to take over the “puss-ups?!” So you know I had to sit on Shirely right? I mean I couldn’t write this blog without doing thorough research. My commitment to you is endless. Two words come to mind when you sit on Shirley… “Oh my.” She vibrates with all her might. It sort of feels like repeated lightening strikes to your hootie cat. Over and over. Category 5. Apparently it’s the equivalent of your vajayjay lifting 45 lbs (insert shock factor). I don’t know about you but I’m about 99% sure my girl aint bench pressin that…..oooookaay.  I wanted off Shirley yet I wanted to book a sesh. It was the most bizarre thing. If I could tighten my “cat” without walking around looking like I was about to shit my pants, it would be the ultimate coup! 

I tallied up all the things I “needed” in order to be hotter than I presently am and quickly realized this whole plan might backfire. I would have to wash my car, clean my house, wax myself, color my hair, do my nails and just about every other thing I am currently paying someone else to do in order to bring an even hotter version of me to the table. Or I could go back to plan A and siphon the family fortune a few dollars at a time. Seems like a better option. There’s no way I’m doing all that other that other stuff myself. Jesus take the actual wheel. So now I sit around and concoct ways to sell shit on FB Marketplace to pay for “New me.” But then I feel like I would look at my new wrinkle free ass and see the fridge I sold to get it. Not working for me. Perhaps a “New Me” Go Fund me. I feel like that’s a thing. Invest in me so I can look better for you. I like it. Back to my original question….when has outsourcing gone too far? I think Fluffy just went there…..uuuuummmmkkkay. 

If you want some “Dirty Shirley” you can start by adding Vodka to your Shirley Temple or call “Sarah”. The choice is yours.

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