The Weekly Wager Starring R Von D

Okay so after a lot of positive feedback from the food eating wager, which I apologize for not finishing by the way, the Pen15 Family has decided to make it our regular thing.

And so, we've decided as a house to start the R Von D weekly wager. The rules are simple, the results are hopefully pleasurable for our readers. So without further adieu, our first bet.

For those of you who aren't aware of it, I've had a tough history throughout my life of not being able to turn down money or bets. Remember in "Back to the Future" when somebody would call Marty McFly a chicken and he'd lose his mind and inevitably do something dumb? Well, I'm kinda like that minus the cool Nikes and the Parkinsons. So Fussy Joe and I are sitting around the house one day and up comes the converstation regarding body waxing and personal male house keeping. Fuss then asks me how much it would cost me to get a full brazillian wax. Ever the one to High-ball myself, I tell him that a mere forty dollars and the cost of the wax would be sufficient funds for me to sport the "immaculate canvas" so to speak.

So weeks go by and nothing is said until Fussy decides it would be a good idea to start dating a cosmetolegist who actually does waxing and whatever the hell those people do. He then tells her of our little wager and the meager means it would take for me to complete this task. She, of course, tells me I'm out of my mind and it would hurt more than anything I've ever experienced in my life. Really, when are you people going to realize that telling me I can't do something only strengthens my resolve. So, I decide that on that day, not only am I going to take this bet and win it, but I'm also going to do it for every man in the world who gets told by a woman that he couldn't handle a "manzilian." Seriously if I heard once more that a woman's pain threshold far surpassed a man's, I think I would have burned somebody alive. I mean come on, men play football and drive monster trucks. Women cook dinner and sew. I win. Now, since we were in the middle of a snowstorm, and a Rite Aid was within striking distance, not only was I going to get a wax done, but I was going to do it myself. How's that for pain threshold you buch of pussies.

So there I am in Fussy Joe's barthroom stark naked save for a pair of socks, one foot up on the toilet about to make some money. The details are what you would typically imagine. Yes it hurt, yes I bled a little bit, yes I started to sweat and breathe heavy towards the end. But, was I crying like people said? Fuck no. Was that the worst thing I've ever felt? Abso-fucking-lutely not. Was it the easiest forty dollars I've ever made? You bet your ass. I even went a step further and did a large portion of my arm for another five spot. Not only that, but The Duchess was quite impressed with the job I did. So much so that I might make this a regular thing. I will say though that I will never wax my chest. I enjoy my nipple-spinach too much to get rid of it, and it is also the source of my virility...much like Samson.