I got a Brazilian exactly one time, in a cramped and overheated room in the back of an Ulta in Skokie, Illinois, and I involuntarily shit on the table when the woman yanked a giant strip of hot wax and cotton off my taint. What a fucking legend—she didn’t even flinch, just wiped it up and handed me a giant wet nap, then went back to work while I chewed a handful of Advil, dry.
