Lisa: Did you know our vaginas are atrophying as we speak?

Erin: Duh. This is why I suffer from anxiety. I lie awake every night worrying about my old vagina. So what have you signed us up for?

Lisa: I received an email from a doctor who wants to laser our aging vaginas. I checked all her credentials and she is the real deal.

Erin: I refuse to have my vagina lasered in a mall kiosk.

Lisa: This laser tightens everything up and we are going.

Erin: So basically we will be like virgins again…You probably can’t even remember that far back.

Lisa: Annnnd you will stop pissing yourself when you laugh. 

Lisa’s Version:

Months ago, I received an email from a Dr. Susan Schroeder in Colorado Springs, who explained that everything ages and wanted to rejuvenate Erin’s and my lady bits. EVERYTHING? I narrowed my eyes. I am the queen of anti-aging. Wrinkles, sun spots, laugh lines, acne? I cover it all…but the ole’ vertical smile? I wasn’t a slut in high school and I only have one kid, so I just assumed I was el perfecto south of the boarder. Obviously, this was absolutely unacceptable to me. We.Were.Going.

Admittedly, when Erin and I were driving to our first vagina tightening appointment, we were hyperventilating, passing a paper bag back and forth. In retrospect, there was nothing to worry about. We were ushered into a beautiful, pristine, super chic office and greeted by an entire staff of vagina tightening angels. 

Dr. Schroeder and her team explained that the procedure consisted of an exam, an internal laser and then an external laser. We would go back once a month for a total of three treatments. The assistant assured us it was “relatively” painless. We were brought back into a room and each given a razor since the procedure was considered ablative and hair can catch fire. Erin’s bush would have probably started a forest fire.

I went first. Erin stood over me and squeezed my hand. It totally looked like we were each other’s birthing coaches. Inside the vajay did not hurt. Outside hurt a bit. The love button hurt like holy hell. And then it was over. Over the next couple days we both started our periods and our vaginas swelled up like they had been stung by bees. Like a lot of bees. Annnnnd then….the magic happened.

Erin’s Version:

Truthfully, I was just going to support Lisa’s old, decrepit vagina. Not to be all braggy, but I sort of assumed my love glove was in pretty good shape. I always get an A+ on pap smears (I even tape the report card they send me on the fridge with my kids’ spelling tests.) I have had two c-sections and seen way worse camel toe in Lululemon yoga pants than my own. 

Honestly, the most traumatizing part of the entire experience was when Lisa and I had to shave our hoohahs next to each other. In that one moment, we valiantly crossed all healthy boundaries of friendship. We just sort of stood there, looking at each other, holding our pubes. I whispered, “Are pubes considered bio-hazard?” Lisa shrugged and I caught her eyeing my Louie Vuitton bag. I hissed, “OH.HELL.NO. We are not putting pubes in my designer purse!” We heard a knock on the door and quickly shoved them in the pocket. 

Lisa did go first and her assessment was entirely correct. The inside does not hurt. Much as I suspected, Dr. Schroeder confirmed that my love tunnel was significantly smaller (my words, not her’s) in stark contrast to Lisa’s gigantic one. I was laying there all smug until Dr. Schroeder explained that my vagina would definitely require more lasering on the outside. Omg. I had a saggy vagina. All these years, countless guests and no one bothered to tell me that I was flapping in the breeze. Weeeell not anymore folks. 


Ladies- This is preeeeeetty much the best investment you can make. We fully endorse Femtouch vaginal laser tightening and Dr. Susan Schroeder. We both noticed a SIGNIFICANT change after the second procedure. Three months later, our vaginas are amaaaaaaaazing. We can giggle without tinkling. Everything is tighter and happier. Lube is unnecessary. Sex is better. Our only advice is that you have to be extra careful not to yell out “THANK YOU DR. SCHROEDER” during your passionate lovemaking sessions, as it will totally kill the moment. Like try to stay focused. 

And Gentlemen- We encourage you not buy your wife a gift certificate to see Dr. Schroeder unless specifically asked. Just trust us on this one….

Perfect Skin Dermatology

Susan Schroeder, MD


1259 Lake Plaza Drive, Suite #270

Colorado Springs, CO 80906

Superficial Vains

Erin: (Laying on Lisa’s table getting face lasered) “Ow. That fucking hurts. Are you about to start your period? Based on the joy you are eliciting from afflicting pain on my face, I can totally tell your progesterone levels are nonexistent.” 

 Lisa: “You know what hurts? When I tell you to quit picking your face and you keep doing it. In fact, my retinas are burning right now just looking at my ruined masterpiece.” (Angles laser)

Erin: (Zap) “Son of a Bitch. Dammit. Shit. Bitch. Mother fu-Oh, I forgot to tell you, we are getting anti-aging IV’s on Saturday!”

Lisa: (Zap. Zap) “Based on your breakout, it looks like you are already reverting to adolescence. Don’t worry though, they are just superficial.”

Lisa’s Version of Events

I picked Erin up from Starbucks, where she lives. I don’t usually “want” to get an IV unless I am in active labor or have eaten sushi from a strip mall (*also with Erin). We rolled up to this super chic IV place in a swanky part of town and were greeted by the second hottest dude I have ever seen (the first was the emergency room doctor who informed me I had gas, not appendicitis). I batted my eyes and casually purred, “I would just like something to reenergize me from all of the pilates and yoga I do. I am super flexible. Tee-hee.” 

I was pretty sure Hot Guy and I had established a soulful, fiery love connection and were going to end up entwined on a beach somewhere until Erin glanced up from the IV menu and said, “Oh, we definitely need two ‘Anti-Aging’ bags.” I glared at her. She then asked if they used “new needles because we don’t want AIDS” and requested we be seated as far away as possible from the people who were there for the flu because “that is just nasty.” Fantasy over. 

We were seated in cozy chairs with blankets, pursuing some health magazines when a nurse came over. She informed us she worked at a hospital emergency room and was an expert at administering IV’s. She quickly found the perfect vein on me. Unfortunately, the nurse claimed Erin had “superficial” veins and had to get poked twice. (BAM. That’s what she said.) I just laughed and laughed.

A few minutes later, some guy stumbled in and sat slouched over in a chair. Erin and I exchanged WTF glances. We happened to be there the morning after St. Patrick’s Day and obviously this ginger was out celebrating his heritage. However, based on his condition, I thought an IV seemed a little conservative. The dude needed a crash cart. But sure as shit, as soon as he was finished with his hangover bag, he skipped right on out with his IV punch card in hand. 

Erin’s Version of Events

Like usual, Lisa’s synopsis of events is somewhat skewed with the exception of the alcoholic redhead. That little leprechaun just came alive, clicked his heels and left to go buy a morning-after pill for whomever he hooked up with the night before. It was seriously the craziest thing I had ever seen. 

I had heard unnecessary IV’s were the newest rage and I wanted to see what the hype was. Of course I was going to bring Lisa. She is the only person I know who would actually go. Lisa will stop at nothing to be pretty, a quality I deeply admire in a person. 

I did get poked twice (heeeeey-oooooo) and was called “superficial” for the second time in one week. However, I knew when I took this job, it would require both mental and physical fortitude. And so here we are. Selflessly and courageously reviewing products, while sacrificing our bodies so that you know the truth. I am sure there will be some form of monument resurrected in our honor upon our untimely deaths by plastic surgery.

Lisa and I both agreed we felt absolutely no different when we left, except now our arms hurt and we had to pee. I planned on going home to nap after our taxing morning however, Mike called to tell me my kids were fighting. Lisa whipped the car over so we could get our nails done instead. 

We walked into the nail salon and because Lisa has the patience of an honest Mormon on her wedding night, she promptly ripped off her bandage. Blood started pouring out of her arm. I stood there frozen, laughing hysterically like I always do when I see someone bleeding. Everyone around us looked super grossed out. 

After Lisa manufactured a tourniquet out of the sleeve of her Lululemon jacket and received a blood transfusion, we settled back in our chairs. I had just arrived at the conclusion that the entire IV experience was totally stupid when out of nowhere my nail tech said, “You pretty enough to be stripper.” Lisa and I excitedly locked eyes. We decided to make appointments for the following week. 


You should definitely go get an IV if you are a hungover redhead or a stripper.

If you would like us to provide you with an honest review of your product, please feel free to contact us. Please note we do not review pyramid scheme products, as we are vehemently trying to create one of our own and this would be a conflict of interest. 


One of the newest rages in beauty and wellness is freezing your ass off in a -110° booth, otherwise known as Cryotherapy. The claims are endless; relief of joint pain and inflammation, recovery from sports injury, but, most importantly, it claims to burn 800 calories per session, promote collagen, and reduce signs of aging…so basically, make you pretty. And if standing in a freezer for three minutes can make us prettier, well that’s a no brainer.

Cryotherapy #1:

We chose a place that is set up like a spa and upon arrival were given nice robes, gloves, tube socks and rubber shoes. We went in the freezing chamber room together and took turns de-robing and stepping into a tight vessel-like machine. After taking my robe off (leaving hands and feet covered), cold air started to spray at me. Like rapidly. My first instinct was to cover my nipples, I suddenly questioned why they aren’t required to be protected. Seems like a super awkward emergency room visit. Nipple frost. I had a flashback to the time I was 23 and knew my appendix was bursting…. I went to the ER and was treated by the most gorgeous man I had ever seen. As the nurses were working to make me comfortable I dreamt about how the ER doctor was probably going to ask me out after he removed my appendix. But, that actually didn’t happen. He came in an hour later and gently informed me that my appendix was just fine. I had gas.  I don’t need a nipple incident on my medical record also.

Moving on——the cold blasting air was intense but bearable. During our sessions Taylor and I kept eye contact with each other to stay calm. For example, I asked the sweet room attendant if anyone ever dies doing Cryotherapy and she cheerfully replied without missing a beat, “Oh yeah. Of course.” Taylor assured me that it probably only happens in Europe. Copy that.

Between surviving and looking at Taylor, I also kept glancing at a digital three-minute timer on the wall wondering when the end was in sight, the attendant told me that the timer was actually wrong. I was 20 seconds ahead of it. Or maybe behind. I’m not sure if she was using this as a distraction or if it really was wrong, but being a control freak and not knowing may be how people actually die during Cryotherapy

Finally, the machine turned off and I felt amazing. Taylor and I were bragging that we both had easily made it the full three minutes until the girl informed us that it was actually two and a half minutes. That’s where everyone starts. At two and a half minutes. *eyeroll* Whatever. I chose not to remind her that the clock was actually wrong.

Anywho, My body felt back to normal immediately and I had a ton of energy all day. I was actually wired.

Cryotherapy #2:

I hopped into the machine like I’ve been doing this forever, like the cryo queen of sorts. Total badass. The second the air started spraying at me I. WANTED. TO. DIE.  The thrill from the first treatment had passed and today I had three FULL minutes and the clock was still wrong and I was almost panicking. My legs felt like needles were stabbing them and I couldn’t catch my breath. I decided this was the precise moment I was going to stop selling my soul for beauty blogs. (Don’t worry, the latter part passed very quickly). It took everything I had not to quit and, honestly I think my body was just in too much shock to ask to get out. So, like the first time. I held my nipples and prayed.

After I got out, I had a hard time warming up all day and really felt like an idiot for standing in a  -110° booth terrible.

We decided that after having very different experiences on each day, we had to go a third try before blogging our experiences fully.

Cryotherapy #3:

Really? Did you really think we were doing that again?

Next Saturday we have hot stone massages scheduled.




Disco Party

The Text Exchange

Lisa: Do you want to go to a Korean bathhouse in a really bad part of town with me tomorrow?

Erin: Okay.

Lisa: We have to be naked.

Erin: You are going to be jealous of my svelte vagina.

Lisa: I will pick you up at 11:00.

Erin: Bye.

Lisa’s Version of Events

I wanted to go to a Korean bathhouse so I could blog about it. I have a total domineering personality so, it was not terribly challenging for me to convince Erin to go. These bathhouses are all the rage in California. Erin is going to act like a whiney little bitch when she tells her side but, I honestly had no idea that the bathhouse we went to was a covert sex house. Swear. To. God.

When I was informed of this establishment, I was simply told to be open-minded. I understood we would be naked the entire time and that we would be receiving massages. What I did NOT know is we would be showering in a community shower equipped with bar soap that had suspicious hairs and by “suspicious hairs” I mean disturbingly long pubes. I also had no idea that we walked in on two chicks getting it on in the steam room. Helllll-lllllo, I would have knocked.

The massage was admittedly a little aggressive…. Ninjas were literally climbing on top of us, slapping our arms and legs. I also do not recall being told that the “community” loofah they used to exfoliate us, would enter EVERY part of my body. As an esthetician, I was fine with my ass but, I totally drew the line when they tried to scrub my flawless face. Eew.

I avoided making eye contact with Erin because I could feel her retinas burning holes in my skin and frankly, her negative energy was ruining my Zen. Instead, I stared at her lady bits, figuring I would make us both dermatologist appointments for the following day and a couples therapy session for Friday to make amends. Truthfully, I will probably never invite her again.

Erin’s Version of Events

Lisa failed to mention that she also coerced our yoga instructor, Jen, to come with us. It was Jen’s birthday and a “Happy Ending” in a dirty Korean bathhouse is always a neat gift. Additionally, after a long anxiety ridden month waiting for what was ultimately Lisa’s negative diagnose for M.S., we decided to celebrate by contracting a venereal disease. Annnnd this is why I selflessly decided to go…to support them. Everyone should be my friend.

After visiting the shower room, I decided Jenny McCarthy’s anti-vaccination campaign was much less offensive than Cameron Diaz’s recent plight to end bush trimming. I exited the 70‘s disco party to go check out the “majestic waterfall” that Lisa had been describing. I was preeeeetty sure the waterfall was just a stream of asbestos and black mold pouring out of dilapidated ceiling tiles but, I didn’t want to ruin the party so I just stayed quiet.

To take my mind off of the situation, I tried to count all the tattoos of dream catchers and wolves on women’s arms as we all soaked in a dirty hottub together but, I lost count after 9,972. I then watched in fascination as our boobies kept floating to the surface while everyone else’s plummeted under. Jen wasn’t really speaking to either of us at this point but, I figured it was because she was so relaxed. I was happy to see her enjoying herself on her special day.

During my massage, Lisa’s voyeuristic vagina watched me the ENTIRE time so, I was never able to fully relax. It didn’t help that my masseuse gave me a titty twister and kept slapping me in the head, with her stomach and boobs. Lisa “claims” I was angrily glaring at her. The truth was, I was completely void of feeling at this point.

Anywho, we are all almost finished taking our third round of broad-spectrum antibiotics, anti-fungals and anti-viral medications. Our next Girls’ Day is our blood draw at an infectious disease clinic in six months.

Lisa- Thank you for taking us from the confines of our gated community, if for no other reason than to remind us never to do it again.

P.S. Happy Birthday Jen. We hope it was all that you dreamed of and more.

XO, Lisa & Erin



A Hairy Situation



Erin: I have decided we are going to go get Brazilian waxes.

Lisa: Okay.

Erin: That went over better than I thought it would. You are drinking wine, watching Lifetime and not really listening to me aren’t you?

Lisa: What?

Lisa’s Version of Events

I am not a person who holds grudges. I would like to say this is because I am so spiritually evolved, but truthfully I just have the shittiest memory ever. So when Erin informed me that we were going to get Brazilian waxes, I just assumed she wanted to spend time with me like everyone else in the world does.

I pulled up to Erin’s house to pick her and her sweet, innocent sister (whom she also demanded be in attendance) up and watched with squinty eyes as she loaded a styrofoam cooler full of ice packs into my car. She then plucked a Bible out of a bag of stuff she was donating to Goodwill and tossed it on the seat. Her kids asked where we were going. Without missing a beat, she said, “We are going to go get our lips waxed.” I didn’t even get her joke until like twenty minutes later because I was so stressed out.

Erin insisted the wax place was not actually where map quest, their actual website and the latitude and longitude of a space satellite said it was located. The three of us got out and started wondering around looking for it. We saw a redheaded (AKA ginger- for those who prefer political correctness) guy with a really long beard walking around aimlessly. Obviously, he couldn’t find the place either. At this point, my anxiety was skyrocketing. I just needed someone to wax my butt so I could return to the familiar comforts of my home.

Eventually, Erin placed a phone call and laughed heartily when she discovered they had moved. Haha. Fucking hysterical. We walked into the salon and immediately my keen intuition suggested something was askew when Erin simply had to sign in, while her sister and I had to fill out two pages of paperwork and provide a blood sample. Omg, what a little hussy.

Erin’s waxer appeared, they linked arms and skipped back to her room. I, on the other hand, got the skittish waxer who legit tried to pawn me off on someone else once she realized we were bloggers. I spent thirty minutes comforting her while she ripped my pubes out with hot wax.

I was nearly incoherent from nauseating pain when it occurred to me that our precious Erin had methodically plotted her revenge for the time I accidentally took her to that nasty Korean bathhouse months ago. Or, maybe it was because I laughed hysterically when I learned she was the homecoming queen in high school…Whatever her motive, Psycho made her point.

Erin’s Correct Version of Events

First off, I politely informed my sister she was going to accompany us on said excursion. Her birthday is right before Lisa’s and I decided to kill two cats with one stone (or however that stupid saying goes.) I wanted to get them something they would remember, something that would remind them of me…an ass wax.

The Korean bathhouse was indeed traumatizing, but the psychotherapy and shock treatments I have been receiving are totally helping. Annnnd while I was homecoming queen in high school, it wasn’t as though I made a shadow box containing my tiara in memorandum of this momentous occasion. People probably assumed I was a stuck up little bitch when I ran off the football field in front of hundreds of people after I was crowned. In truth, this event served as foreshadowing to what would later be diagnosed as a “severe anxiety disorder.”

Second, I never claimed that I was a waxing virgin. I clearly hold my body to a higher standard and the ungodly sights at the Korean bathhouse only solidified this postulation. Maybe my vagina is calloused or maybe I just got lucky because my waxer was going through a divorce and channelled her frustrations onto my lady garden OR maybe I am just not a giant baby like Lisa is.

My sister walked into the lobby white as a sheet, mumbling incoherently, with a hollow look in her eyes after her appointment. Shit. I totally forgot to tell her if she didn’t leave a little landing strip/ Hitler stash, her lady parts would resemble a naked mole rat. I just knew she was sporting the mole rat.

Meanwhile, Lisa was not talking to me and intently studying the display of waxing products. She plucked out the most expensive cream they had, claimed her “waxer preferred this brand for a post wax” and plopped it on the counter with a smug look on her face. I narrowed my eyes at her uppity vagina and handed over my credit card.

We got in the car, shoved the ice packs down our pants and drove to Starbucks in total silence. I f’ing knew I should have given them Chipotle gift cards.







Supplemental Income


Lisa’s Version of Events

I almost died last week when I accidentally poisoned myself.

Three days before I nearly died, I was laying on Erin’s bedroom floor after raiding her closet. *If you ever need to borrow a dress she has quite the selection. In fact, she has her very own expensive department store. You would not know this by looking at her since she wears yoga clothes She swears she’s not depressed. I am totally going to say something if she stops showering.

Anywho, while I was browsing Erin’s wares I decided her Tory Burch flip-flops would look better on me. Remember…Erin only likes to purchase designer apparel, she does not actually wear it. I plotted my exit strategy and informed her my flip-flops would match her skin tone better and just this once, I would be willing to switch shoes with her since I deeply care about her. She happily obliged. I think she even hugged me.

Our ADD encumbered conversation suddenly switched from wardrobes to supplements. I informed Erin of a supplement we should be taking for our skin health. She casually replied, “Oh, I already take that.” I sat there in stunned silence. Oh, I see…so I share my extensive beauty wisdom with her while she sits there casually sipping bone broth and hoarding her own beauty arsenal. I no longer felt guilty about taking her shoes.

Erin told me I could have her brand new bottle of the magical elixir. It is about time she did something for me. Erin cautioned me to start taking the product very slowly. Meh, I don’t have time for this “waiting” bullshit. You all know me, I go big, or I go home and watch Lifetime and do nothing.

Three days later, I woke up in the middle of the night with severe stomach pain. Omg. I was one of those women who didn’t know she was pregnant since I was clearly in labor. I just knew I was going to labor a human being NOW. I called Erin. Instead of being sympathetic like a normal person would be, she was like, “This.Is.Awesooooome!!! How much are you taking?! I am going to do it too!”

After five hellish, terrifying days of being held hostage by my bowels, I lost SEVEN repeat SEVEN pounds. My skin was glowing even though my eyes were sunken in but, I looked super gaunt for a photo shoot. Erin and I decided we were onto something and slapped our pictures on this supplement so we could start our own pyramid scheme.

Erin’s Version of Events 

I almost died last week when I intentionally poisoned myself.

I was laying on my floor watching Lisa try on my size 0 clothes. Lisa usually wears a 00 so you can imagine how distraught she was when my clothes actually fit her. She kept repeating she was “bloated and PMS’ing.” I just examined my cuticles and told her how pretty she was. I have learned this technique is the most effective when trying to soothe Lisa during one of her “episodes.”

Lisa is correct, I don’t get dressed. Everyday of my life is spent being covered in dog hair, boogers, peanut butter and my own tears. I have zero desire to elicit attention from the opposite sex. Why? Because another dude is just one more fucking person I have to take care of. I don’t even buy pistachios with shells because I am so lazy. In fact, I had to google what “Ashley Madison” was when it was all over headline news. *Although, I totally didn’t know that rogue Duggar was on there. Meow. Eyebrows up and down. Lick lips.

Furthermore, I have taken said beauty supplement for years but, it had never occurred to me to quadruple the recommended dosage like Lisa did. She acted like it was the end of the fucking world because she was going to poop out a baby. Hi. There are approximately three fire stations in a five mile radius of our houses that we could have dropped the kid/giant poop off at. She is absurdly dramatic.

Our bodies literally purged themselves of every toxin we had ever ingested. Lisa was able to rid herself of all the coke, meth and heroin she used last week. I purified myself of the five packages of my kids’ Avatar fruit snacks that I ate the day before. Yes, I did almost shit in my car but, I was trading it in the next day so it wouldn’t have even mattered. Honestly, the experience was entirely spiritual for me. Like I prayed a lot.

***If you too would like to shit away some lbs. while exercising your abs and boosting your self worth, please send us a check in the amount of $59.99! Become a distributer today and start making money while changing people’s lives through explosive diarrhea! Simply refer five of your friends and we will send you the kit. If you would like to host a party, we will generously give you a bonus bottle of the magic (equivalent of two giant shits). 


Lisa & Erin

“Nobody Really Knows…….”

I’m a few minutes early to a meeting so I sit out front in my car. Don’t be nervous. Don’t be nervous. Eeeek, this totally feels like a first date. I finally walk to the door and am greeted by a totally normal suburban mom. She leads me to her kitchen table where I silently sit while she shuffles through papers clearly unprepared. Meanwhile, her dog is Losing. His. Mind. barking in the back yard. I have already decided that her neighbors hate her guts. As I sit, I glance down at a piece of paper with her bio on it. Interesting lady; ER nurse, massage therapist, birthday party face painter and today …… psychic. What? Like I’m going to let her paint my face? That would totally break me out.
She finally sits down and starts by informing me that I am an Aquarius, which is great news because every magazine has confirmed this for years. So I guess so far she’s legit. She then starts speaking in psychic gibberish about my 5th house being in retrograde with a Pisces sighting which only happens every twenty-three years. I obviously have no idea what any of this means so I just stared at her. Could it be true that the answers to my life are in her hands? She needs to translate her secret language. STAT. The suspense is killing me.
“SO what does all of that really mean? I’m not really current on my planets.” I tell her. She tells me I am coming out of a very stressful ten month mercury cycle. And that it must have been really, really rough. OH. MY. GAWD. THAT IS SO ME. She has tuned into me. How does she know this? Then I almost start to cry. This has just brought us together. Because she knows. I know she knows. We both just know. I instantly bond with her. I tell her this is so correct and ask if the cycle is over. She says, “Let me consult your numbers”, she grabs a thick book and starts shuffling through it. Forever. Does some math and says, “Oooooooh, hmmm…weeeellllllll, this is not good, OK, well this is interesting. You actually have a bit more coming. Looks like at least four months. BUT, then something really big and exciting will be launched! And it will be amazing.” I must have looked totally freaked out because she took off her readers, grabbed my hands and said, “The truth is, we don’t really know. Nobody really knows. Anything can happen.” OK, well I’m actually here because you are supposed to know.
Now I was bored. Our bond was over. She’s so negative. I wanted a Starbucks refresher, and a muzzle for her dog. She finishes the session telling me I am a free spirit abandoner; I lose interest in everything immediately. I believe she is saying this because she knows from the look in my eyes I broke up with her already about ten minutes ago. She tells me that I have a big successful project coming up, that I am very much like Princess Athena (I have no idea who she is but I get the princess thing and already like Athena) and I must be very careful in the next few months because she sees a sports-related injury. I make a mental note that I should probably stop skateboarding down my driveway hill barefoot with Blake. And then she looked at me and said “When you get home, check your water heater”. She then shuffled a deck of Tarot cards and told me to ask them a question silently. When she turned them over to read them she said, ‘Hmmm, it didn’t answer your question, Interesting.”
Alright I guess I should be going. Her husband is in the kitchen staring at us, the dog is STILL outback fully losing his mind. I have a headache and feel drained. I am not telling anyone about this meeting. So, you know, that lasted about two seconds until I basically told everybody I talked to. I realized how ridiculous all of this sounded. We all laughed the hardest about checking my water heater. And Thank Gawd I told EVERYBODY or NOBODY would believe this. I get up to shower Saturday and had Noooooooo water. Guess who was at my house this week? Swear. To. Gawd.

See you all later. I am going to hide for the next few months. Just kidding…I am going to change my planet rotation and make it AMAZING!  But first I am going to give the plumber the psychic’s phone number. They could totally help each other out. And remember nobody really knows but some, they just know.

Have an Amazing week!