New Kids on the Block – Summertime

I just found my summer jam, y’all! New Kids on the Block “Summertime.” I’m going to bump this track in my white 2003 Toyota Corolla LE that only elderly Asian women seem to drive with stock speakers, stock CD player, and my loan paid off on it. HOLLAAA!

It’s better than my previous summer jam, Riskay’s “Smell Yo Dick.”

I can’t believe I’m saying a New Kids on the Block song is a good song. Sure, the sweet, sugary, and simple lyrics will make my teeth fall out because some dude is going to punch me in the mouth for playing it too loud. But what do you expect? It’s a boy band pop song, which usually lack metaphors, substance, and the ability to impress women when I’m bumping it in my ride.

It would be easy for me to dismiss the song as typical radio-friendly, boy band crap, and then say I listen to sophisticated music like the rock band The Decemberists, hip-hop artist Aesop Rock, or any other band that you’ve probably never heard of, but that would make me a snobby music asshole. It would also make me a liar, because according to iTunes I have played this really catchy song 34 times since purchasing it on May 13th, and I’m pretty sure I know all the lyrics by now.

With your flip flops, half shirt, short shorts, mini skirt,
Walkin’ on the beach, so pretty,
You wasn’t lookin’ for a man,
When you saw me in the sand,
But you fell for the boy from the city.

As you can tell from the lyrics above, the song is about a girl, duh! What boy band song isn’t? They’re reminiscing about a summer love that happened many years ago when acidwashed jeans were cool and Donnie Wahlberg didn’t have a receding hairline. I like to reflect about old loves as well, but unfortunately when I do, it doesn’t involve writing and singing a song about them. Instead it involves me and my therapist or me and a bottle of vodka, both of which results in me crying and yelling, “You think you’re better than me!” Also, I don’t know about you, but to me, it’s always weird when five guys are singing about one particular girl. It just seems like a musical gangbang with a bukkake of vocals.

The song is not perfect. The first few notes of this little ditty made me think New Kids on the Block was going to break out into a reggae song and it would’ve been nice if there was a little edge to it, like there was with “Hangin’ Tough.” I guess what I’m trying to say is that the song really needed a Donnie Wahlberg rap somewhere. Or even a Marky Mark cameo would’ve been cool. I don’t know if Donnie has the skills to pay the bills when it comes to rhyming anymore, so I wrote some funky fresh lines that could be stuck in between the second and third verses.

Sippin’ on milkshake was how we would spend our time.
Why no alcohol? Because we were too young for wine.
I got to first base, I slid to second, but didn’t go for three.
We didn’t go all the way, because I believed in celibacy.
Now all that are just memories of a summer’s past.
Looking back, I really, really regret not tappin’ yo’ ass.

(Editor’s Note: Relive the 1980s and 1990s with these three NKOTB videos: You Got It (The Right Stuff), Hangin’ Tough, and my personal favorite, Step by Step. Also, to celebrate the NKOTB reunion, I decorated my computer’s desktop for the occasion, which you can see below. That’s right, I’m hardcore.)

Item: New Kids on the Block – Summertime
Price: 99 cents
Purchased at: iTunes Store
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Catchy pop song. Acidwashed jeans in the 1980s-1990s. My NKOTB wallpaper and hard drive icons. Paid off my car loan.
Cons: Admitting that I actually like this song and losing any musical cred I had. No Donnie Wahlberg rap. Acidwashed jeans in the 21st century.

Listen to the audio version

Chest Waxing

(Editor’s Note: The above video is a little over nine minutes long. Enjoy my pain.)

I am sure many of you women out there do not think we men can handle pain. You may think that all men are a bunch of pussies, who cannot handle paper cuts or pushing a baby out through an orifice that geometrically should not have a baby go through. Well I’m here on behalf of men everywhere to prove that men can handle pain. If I had the plumbing, tools, and feel good medications necessary to give birth, I totally would, but instead you’re going to have to settle for getting my chest hairs ripped out.

My hair ripping dominatrix for my morning appointment was Terry, who specializes in Brazilian waxes. Unfortunately, unlike most dominatrixes there weren’t any “safe words” I could use if the pain became a little too much to bear. I just had to suck it up, like all guys forced to watch the movie Atonement with their lady friends. Although, I did come with a few possible “safe words,” like “peanut butter,” “Stop! Hammer Time!,” and “Perez Hilton is an attention whore.”

The application of wax felt good. The warm sensation was like putting on a pair of boxers straight from the dryer or tenderly embracing someone covered in Icy Hot. Terry used two types of wax on my pudgy body: a strip wax, which was used for large areas, and a hard wax, used for smaller and sensitive areas (ie. nipple). Both may have felt good going on, but the strip wax was pretty much a bitch coming off.

The strip wax was more painful since it was responsible for pulling out the majority of my fur in large clumps. I really didn’t want to know what it is like being Velcro, but thanks to the strip wax I now know. The hard wax was not so bad. It felt like a band aid being ripped off of my body or pasties being ripped off of my nipples.

Some areas were really painful, while with other areas I felt nothing at all. Overall, I thought it was not so bad of an experience. Sure, if you watch the video, I yelp out in pain many times, but I also do that with, Vixen, my real dominatrix, and whenever I yelp out in pain, our “safe words” are not far behind, which are usually, “Peter Cottontail hopping down the bunny trail.” I did not expect it to be a painless procedure and if I did not get it done by a professional, it probably would have been extremely painful.

After the waxing, there was redness, which wasn’t painful, but stuck around for about four days. Despite the redness, it felt nice having a smooth chest and I rubbed my chest quite a bit. As a matter of fact, I rubbed it so much that if I had sandpaper for hands, I would no longer have nipples. The smooth feeling lasted a little bit longer than I expected. Stubble didn’t start to show until two weeks later and my chest hair feels softer than usual.

Would I do it again? Yes, I would and I’ll probably make another appointment to see if it is easier the second time around and to get closer to my metrosexual side. But now with a smooth chest, when women have sex with me, they can close their eyes (or put a bag over my head) and imagine I’m someone else, instead of a furry woodland creature.

(Editor’s Note: I would like to thank TIB friend Cian for setting my appointment for pain and I would also like to thank Terry from Heaven on Earth Spa for making my experience as memorable as possible.)

Item: Chest Waxing
Price: $40 (regular $55)
Purchased at: Heaven on Earth Spa
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Not as painful as I thought. Smooth chest for the ladies. Professional waxers. Lasted longer than shaving. Applying the wax felt good. Safe words. Putting on a pair of boxers straight from the dryer.
Cons: Redness for several days after. Not permanent. Strip wax. Being Velcro. Dominatrix prices. Getting waxed by a non-professional.

Which Body Part Should I Get Waxed?

There are some benefits to being hairier than others.

First off, winter nights don’t seem so cold because hair is wonderful insulation and I can somewhat understand why the Olsen Twins use actual animal fur to cover their meatless, Cryptkeeper-like bodies.

Secondly, having ample hair follicles means having a large field available for harvest if there is ever a need for hair transplants. Sure, some of them might be coarse or pubic-ish, but that’s what smelly, harsh hair-straightening chemicals are for.

Thirdly, if you’re a dude, you can open a few shirt buttons and play Magnum, P.I. whenever you want, if you have access to a Ferrari 308 GTS and can get Higgins, T.C. and Rick to play with you, which shouldn’t be hard, since they’re probably not doing anything anyway.

If you’re a long time reader of The Impulsive Buy or have seen me naked, you know that I am somewhat hirsute. For you newer readers, to give you an idea of how hairy I am, here are some posts that show some evidence that I may possibly be a descendant of the Yeti in the Disneyland Matterhorn ride. In the Veet Rasera review I showed off my legs, during the the first anniversary prize drawing post I gave readers a glimpse of my arms, and in the Axe Dry Clix review I scared off TIB readers by showing them my armpit.

So with a little convincing from TIB reader Cian, I decided to review the experience of getting some of my hair ripped out of their follicles via waxing, and you will help choose which body part of mine will feel that pain. I’m going to give you five options and you can vote on which one you like best or the one that will cause me the most pain.

Here are the five body parts you can vote for:

1. Underarms
2. Arms
3. Legs
4. Chest
5. Eyebrows (just sculpting)

(Extreme Editor’s Note: Getting a Manzilian IS NOT an option.)

The body part with the most votes will be declared the winner and I will get that part of my body waxed by a trained professional and then review the experience. Yes, in the review, there will be pictures of the procedure and just like a Rambo IV preview, if there is blood, I will show it to you.

To vote, either leave a comment with this post that contains the body part you want me to get waxed or email me at theimpulsivebuy AT gmail DOT com with your choice in the subject line. Only one choice and vote per person.

I’ll be accepting votes until Friday, January 11th (11:59 p.m. Hawaii Standard Time).

Now go vote like you’re helping to create one of the gazillion lists out there for the best and worst of 2007.

Bald Guy Greeting Cards

I don’t walk into a Hallmark store for greeting cards anymore because when I looked through the aisles filled with folded cards, colorful envelopes, and middle-aged women, I couldn’t find a card that truly expressed what I was thinking or feeling.

I find that most of those Hallmark cards are predictable, like the use of the word “beaner” in a Carlos Mencia joke. “I love you,” “Happy Birthday,” “I miss you,” “Merry Christmas,” or “I have herpes” are just some of the phrases that you might find inside a typical greeting card. I want my greeting cards to say more than that. If I already know what it’s going to say inside, why even bother opening it? Just pull the card out, shake it, and let the cash, personal check, gift card, or condom fall onto my lap.

Thank goodness for Bald Guy Greeting Cards, which have more to say that a typical greeting card and does it with sarcasm. With these cards you won’t find rainbows being used as a metaphor for friendship, love, or the bridge into womanhood.

Instead, you have cards that say what you’re truly thinking, but too afraid to say out loud, unless you’re an asshole. For example, one of their birthday cards I picked up says on the outside, “Happy Birthday (I guess),” then on the inside it says, “For the record, my birthday was on _______ and you didn’t get me a card. Not even an email. But that’s okay. Happy Birthday to you, I guess.”

There have been several occasions when I really needed a card like that.

Another card I picked out for a future wedding says on the outside, “Congratulations on your wedding,” while on the inside it says, “I hope you like your gift. Since you went to the store, picked it out and registered for it. Actually, if you don’t like it, it’s kind of your fault.”

Despite them being honest, I really wish there was more profanity in the cards. You know, to keep it real. One card I found used the word “asshole,” but that was pretty much it. Seriously, which would have more of an impact:

a. For the record, my birthday was on _______ and you didn’t get me a card. Not even an email. But that’s okay. Happy Birthday to you, I guess.


b. For the record, my fucking birthday was on ______ and you didn’t get me a fucking card. Not even a fucking email. But that’s okay. Happy Birthday to you, fucker.

Another thing that slightly bothered me about the Bald Guy greeting cards were the drawing on the front of every card. Each emo-ish character looked like something that haunts my dreams, much like New York’s eyelashes do.

Speaking of dreams, I once dreamt of becoming a greeting card writer, so that whenever the dreaded question “What are you going to do with an English Degree?” came up, I could reply “Write greeting cards, bitches!” to my aunts and uncles.

You know what? I think that might just make a good greeting card for English majors.

Item: Bald Guy Greeting Cards
Price: $3.00 (per card)
Purchased at:
Rating: 3 out of 5
Pros: Sarcastic cards. Honest. Perfect cards for certain situations. Profanity. Money inside a card.
Cons: Drawings haunt my dreams. Needs more profanity. New York’s eyelashes. Rainbows being used as a metaphor for friendship. love, and the bridge into womanhood. Getting a card that says, “I have herpes.”