Y’all know how much I like analogies, right? And that I’m bound and determined to carry them through to their last wheezing gasps? Boy, do I have a treat for you.
{If you’re related to me, please stop reading. Now. Seriously. Please?}
Today, we’re going to talk about Brazil. And it’s not to see this guy.

Nor is it even about the country.
(Think about it.)
(Got it yet?)
(A, ha! There you go. Now you get it.)
Yup. As the queen of all things uncomfortable, I’m blogging about the removal of lawn from every last corner of the country. (Don’t say I didn’t warn you that the analogy was going to be pretty cheesy.)
Tomorrow, I’m going in for my first ever Brazilian (again, not talking about Helio). I’m taking Mrs. Caramel’s advice to heart… and taking an aspirin. Chalk it up to yet another one of those crazy things we women do for men and grooming, and blame it on the fact that I didn’t have any better ideas for a Valentine’s Day gift.
Lest you think I’m a hussy for giving this as a gift, may I remind you that we women have been known to kindly help our guys eat better, dress better, and (tell the truth!) groom better? Honestly, it would be different if he’d asked for it, or even mentioned it, but since it’s a surprise of my choosing, I’m fine with it. And I hear it’s pretty awesome, if a little, ahem, breezy.
I’ll report back when it’s over. Have you been to Brazil? Any last minute suggestions for me and my low pain threshold?
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