Long long ago, in a land of syph and crab infested prostitutes, otherwise known as "Europe", merkins - the toupe of the clam gods - graced it's prescence on many a lady's private area. Men were enchanted by it's chamelean like demeanor; women were swooned at it's power of economic stability in a time of health crisis; children were entertained at what looked like the neighborhood's new motionless pet guinea pig.
Long were the days when a lady - or gentledude - could cover up that unsightly 5" pock mark with a snappy patch of dead animal fur. Just like my nephew holding a fork next to an electric outlet in a barn standing in a puddle of water created by the concurrent lightening storm, the merkin was gone in a flash.
Please ... please my children .. do not cry! I know the tears rushing down your face aren't solely from the thought of tranny-hooker #1 not being able to have his/her very own snappable manglebunch. You've just spent the last hour googling "merkin" and have discovered this delicious, delicious fashion statement is no longer a social norm. And that I lied when I said it could be used as a brillo pad.
But fear no more! Now you, yes YOU, can have your very own merkin!


How to Make a Merkin in Eight Easy Steps
A socialite's guide to faking pubic hair

First, before you can begin your magical adventure to faking your own afghan mound, you need make a list of items needed for your magical merkin. You also need to find the friend who hates arts and crafts stores the most and drag him/her along.

This is my friend Krisztian ... his hobbies include hating arts and crafts stores and wearing his roommates sunglasses during merkin moments:



After scouring North Hollywood for what seemed like hours (FINE it was about 2 minutes), we had to give up our dreams of running through fields of merkin material at Michale's and settle on .. ugh .. K-Mart. It was dangerous. People were wielding giant weapons of mass destruction in their windowless vans. They tried to sell me white powderful envelopes as I skidaddled through the parking lot! White powder! Parking lot! ENVELOPES!

The next task was deciding what material to use.
First, I found a giant red rug. Great in shagginess, poor in color. Nobody wants a firecrotch, not even a pot-marked, crab infested hired vagina.


Second, I found a multicolored dog hedhog looking thing. I quickly decided that the rat infested crotch look isn't what I had in mind.


Third, I found something really close to what I had in mind - a soft, kinda kinky yet kinda curly purple material that I could rub my face all over. Mid-face I realized my goal was to attract men, not turn into a disco drag queen with pastel poon.


I was just about to give up when OH BISCUITS LORD AND GRAVY - cotton balls! I wanted mine to be comfortable and scratch-free (no need to incorporate the crab-scratch). Before making a solid decision, I sized them up to make sure they would work perfectly:



Ok. so. onto the show.

Step 1 - Gather your materials.


Step 2 - Fold a piece of blank paper in half hamburger style and cut out your merkin's template.


Step 3 - Marvel at your creativity. Or stare at your fingers wondering just what that is underneath your fingernails. You could have sworn you washed your hands after you tou... nevermind.


Step 4 - Apply glue to your merkin template in whatever shape your lonesome little heart desires. I chose squigglies and phallic symbols.


(Please note that it is important to have fun with your merkin. This merkin will be a symbol of your own maturity and creativtiy ... so do what I did - make clusters of
cotton testicles and stuff them in your pants.)


Step 5 - Apply cotton balls all over phallic and squiggly shaped glue template. To acheive the true parasidic prostitute look, I suggest tearing your cotton in half and applying it in spuratic patches.


Step 6 - Begin to stack cotton balls on top of each other to create that full-feathered, "I just got a new snatch" look. If you'd like to vary it a bit and make a special gift for that special, special man (or really hairy woman), apply more cotton balls towards the end. Shape them to form a "V." You will also want to pull on the cotton a bit to acheive maximum kinked out curly Q ness. Resist the urge to nuzzle your face in it's cloudlike softness; remember, this is gunna go on your junk!




I took a moment to wonder what this whole experience of me shaping it's luscious, luscous body must be like from the merkin's point of view. I think it looks a little
something like this:


Step 7 - Let your merkin dry.


Take a moment to sit back and reflect upon your experience while your merkin dries. Have you and your merkin bonded? Have you made decisions for it's futures? Do you have hopes and dreams you hope it will one day carry out because you didn't have the balls to do it on your own?

Step 8 - Your merkin should be dry! That's it - go try that bad boy on! Show your neighbors, make them touch it. Go up to that girl in the dark room and twirl your hips all around ... she'll never know the difference!


A close-up of the man merkin ... mankin ... if you will (please note the extreme detail in straggling cotton strands and extreme bush fullness):


Now, for those of you who are like "frick to that noise. cotton, i need something more delectable than that you jerkwad." ... you can sub in cotton candy! Not only will you attract massive amounts of ants (and possibly be put in the hospital) but the ladies won't be able to resist your sweet, sweet fun time bunch!



Merkin. You're there. Eight easy steps to a fashionable - and comfortable! - merkin. Take it to that rave you've been dying to go to. Slip Jimmie's hands into your pants when he's least expecting it for a sweet, sweet suprise. Pull it out of your pants a little and use it as a medical excuse to leave work/class early. Whatever it is you decide to do with your merkin, may it bring you mounds and mounds of luck.
To see more of Krisztian and I's voyage into merkin-land, please visit my
photo album - Viva la Merkin!




Oh ... and one more thing. I made a sparkly one for Ed :)

It has come to my attention recently, thanks to my dear ol' pal Keatonian, that those of us with problems in certain pubic areas may have a centuries old answer to our ailment. Pubic areas? By golly gee willikers, what problems could you possibly have in your pubic area?? Dry skin? Herpes? Scabies? Beautiful musky scents? Hairlessness? Hidden turkey sandwhich(es)?

First, I gotta say, if you have a turkey sandwhich hidden in your junk, there's seriously something wrong with you. You need to get that checked out ... like, now. As to everything else, you're on your own this time ... BUT if you happen to be hairless down there or hosting a colony of pubic lice and/or crabs - well, ladies and gentledudes, do I have the answer for you! I present to you: the merkin:



A merkin? MERKIN?! What the popsicles is a merkin?? Apparently back in the olden days, pubic lice and genital scarring (from disease) was a common issue amongst the ladyfolk. In an attempt to cover up the ugly sight of a bare vulva (shaven to get rid of her pet crab collection ... I named one of mine "Wally"), this snappy little manglebunch was snugly adheased onto the skin and patted in place. Johns and hookers alike would all stand back and gaze at its beautiful, nappy glory and never guess syphyllis or insects had ever touched that area. Never.

Nowadays it's used for purposes like fashion statements and brillo pads. I always knew there was something a little off about the way I looked growing up. Something ... just .. wasn't ... quite ... right...

On my way to homecoming ... something missing?


MERKIN!



Or how about that time my ex-boyfriend threw a halloween party and I showed up as "A housewife so perfect, it's scary?" You know, everybody kept telling me something was missing from my costume - and now I know! Three years later! I finally, FINALLY know!
MERKIN. (I gave it a little flare this time, makes it a little cute, don't you think?)



Double merkin power! The more merkin, the less you will be able to resist its charm:



Got some fruit lying around you don't know what to do with?



MERKIN!



Aw, shucks, don't limit it to just the apple, include the whole gang. Make it a merkin party!



You know, and while we're at it ... there's this one picture I have of my ex-boyfriend Kurtis lying on my bed. For the snickerdoodles life of me I just can't figure out what's so off about this photo! Can you?



Wait - WAIT. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Totally omggggzzz! MERKIN!!! He was totally missing his merkin!! With a little bit of retouching from my "boxer be gone" brush tool in Corel Photo X4, I finally found it! It was totally there the whole time - I feel so dumb.




Oh, Keaton, what would I have done for years to come without knowing of this merkin business?? Gone hairless and embarrassed, that's for sure! Apparently you can buy these at a variety of retail stores ... so, the next time you need something to liven up your wardrobe or make up the life of a hip college party - throw in a merkin. They'll never know what hit them.

Imagine the following situation: you're friends with somebody you briefly dated years ago. Four years after your last visit, you are his date to a family wedding. The day of the lunch rehearsal you drivity drive drive yourself down, excited to finally see him again when BAM, family happens.

This is the story - the true story - of what happens when family starts getting nice and strangers start getting comfortable. The Morris family - Orange County!

(It's a Real World spinoff, get it? Ugh, ignore me. Carry on.)

So, as stated previously stated, I was my friend's date to his brother's wedding. We made plans for this last year and I believe his mother has known about it ever since. If I recall correctly, this is about the time the "Chris is bringing a date! Like, totally OMG! Freak me out!" moments started.

Fast forward to last Friday and I've driven myself down to Dana Point Harbor for his brother's lunch rehearsal. It's a gorgeous day, I have the day off of work, and I just know this is going to be nothing short of a fantastic, eventful day. Even after sitting in 3 hours of traffic, I managed to not flip off or call a single driver "a dirty fucking douchebag" ... that's the sign of me being in a good mood! Well ... I had the eventful part down, alright.

As soon as I walk downstairs, I meet up with Chris, who, by the way, is still just as pretty as I remember. That was, uh, just a side note, moving on. Not two seconds later the family starts to swarm in. I meet person after person after person and forget name after name after name. Granted, they were just as sweet as pie, but it was all very overwhelming at first. I remember meeting his parents and becoming smitten with his sister's newborn son (I looked but did not touch, sorta like when you go through the 'fine china' section at Nordstrom's ... I have a tendancy to break fragile things. Probably best I stay away from the baby.) We eat, I'm introduced to Chris's brother via a story of his intestines, his father almost kills me with swords while the family looks onward ... really just a normal lunch.

To recap the rest of the day (Friday):

1. Was having a super duper conversation with his mom and sister and my period comes gushing forth. Oh mother nature, you're really such a swell, considerate gal! I had nothing on me so I was forced to come forward and admit defeat. "Hey I know I just met you, but I'm bleeding profusely from my vagina! Hey, at least this means I'm not knocked up! I'll give your son the opportunity to do THAT later *wink wink*" Ok, so that last part didn't happen. It'd be amazing if it did.

2. Aunt takes me to the drug store and tells me a story, wrapping it up with "I woudln't be suprised if Chris elopes." *look in my direction* *stare*

3. In n Out shenanigans. Insert more Chris talk here. I decide his cousin Gentry is quite possibly the cutest little girl on the face of the earth. Must ... resist urge .. to pinch ... cheeks ...

4. More Chris talk.

5. More Chris talk.

6. More Chris talk.

7. I leave for the evening, admittably dissappointed that I didn't get to spend much alone time with him. I did, however, really like being with his family. This is what it must be like to be a ridalin tablet in the middle of a box of uppers.

The next day was like a huge clusterfunk to my schedule, so many appointments to keep up with and weddings to get lost on my way to. The wedding was simply beautiful! My smug heart almost melted a little. The rest of the evening went like this:

1. More Chris talk.

2. Take photo of self in bathroom ... only because I could. Actually, I really liked the decoration them of the bathroom and was taking pictures because I have a bathroom revamp for my new apt coming up.



2. Hang out with the cousins.

3. Introduced to the rest of the uncles, aunts, grandparents, cousins ... even the bride's side of the family started introducing themselves to me! I remember this one particular moment when one of his uncles (I think) started asking me if I like cooking, what I studied, etc etc etc, all the while giving Chris the ol' nudge in the arm. It took me a while to realize what was going on, but once I did I left so that I could stand real far away and laugh (oh, and point!) at his expense. I know, I'm a real kind, caring friend.

4. More Chris talk.

5. I got a solitary moment of boredom, so I took a picture of my feet.



5. More Chris talk.

6. I was sat at the table with his parents and grandparents where there was ... more Chris talk. Things along the lines of "Sooo, where did you two meet? How long have you known each other? When are you going to have our grandchildren?" I know, you're suprised that Chris even came up in our conversations. I was equally as shocked. I mean, I was just waiting to POUNCE on that one. In reality, the conversations were very interesting and kept me entertained the whole time. I tried to get them to dish the dirt on him, but no luck, apparently he was a good kid growing up. Ha, talk to my family - lots of dirty, amusing stories. I can't help it if I played with bugs and ran around naked all the time!

According to the name cards, I am no longer to be referred to as "Christina" but rather "Guest of Christopher Morris."



7. Talked with Chris for a while at the head table, which, by the way, looked like a scene from the last supper. See below for visual:



Mother nature reintroduced herself amidst our stellar conversations of can poop and almond champagne. Long story short, I bled on the WHITE chair cover. FUNK. There really is something about my period that brings Chris and I together. There's a story here about me, Chris and my period from when we first met. Ask me and I'll share.

I spend the next 15 minutes discretely running to my car in hopes of finding a tampon while profusely bleeding all over myself. There's no hope for my underwear at this point, so I had to ditch it in one of the surrounding trash cans. It'll be a blessed day for whoever goes digging through THAT trash can. It'll be like "cans, check. paper napkins, check. dirty bloody underwear, whaaaaaaa?"

Upon my arrival his parents/grandparents immediatly inform me of Chris's whereabouts and discretely insist that I go stand with him. After several hints and slight nudges, I finally give in and go stand next to him. Insert more Chris talk here. Throw in some stellar dance moves:



Is that ... is that an irish jig? By golly, me's found me a 6' something" leprechaun!

Ugh my hands are getting tired, let's try to wrap this up ... in summary, it was a beautiful, beautiful wedding and I had a wonderful, wonderful time with his family ... even if there was a lot of hinting at me and Chris. Throw in some sighs of relief that he's not gay. Oh and 100+ invites to the next wedding. And a nice ride back to the house. And a nice evening afterwards. And a nice spend the night (hey hey get your mind out of the gutters, you filthy filthy sex maniac! not like that!)

I was pretty Sadface McGee to see him leave for Egypt the next morning, but had a great time with him in between. Sooo cheers to that! That man needs to visit me more often ...

I really think the following from Chris's email to me puts everything in perspective nicely:

Im sure there was some disappointment when i gave the wedding speech by not announcing our marriage, soon planned pregnancy, and move next door to my parents.

Well put Morris, well put.