I couldn't decide if I should blog about the girl who was screaming so loud they could hear her on the first floor, the girl who sat up between every rip, the girl who screamed for Jesus, the girl who had a death grip on my hip and arm, or the girl who was sweating so profusely, the wax wouldn't stick. Oh yea, it was all the same girl. The joys of being a Brazilian Wax Technician.