Best way to have a smooth coochie and asshole? Shaving be so annoying
You kidding me? This is easy peasy, bro. Who was it said that "comparison is the thief of joy"? Man. What a dingbat! We do this constantly.
All you need to do is slather vast quantities of Rogaine across every bit of your body except your coochie and asshole, so that they look less hairy by comparison.
Like, vast mountains of the stuff. Submerge yourself in a ginormous wobbly sphere of Rogaine. Transform yourself into a Jurassic Park Mosquito of the hair restoration world. Become Rogaine's official mascot. Future archaeologists will unearth you in their search for follicular resurrection and ID you as Chewbacca's Mum. You'll never have a problem with shaving again! No razor would dare attempt to cut your magnificent and resplendent torso hair. It'd be like firing bullets at Superwoman.
Though perhaps I'm misunderstanding you. "Smooth" has many meanings:
Smooth like jazz?
Simply follow Billy Connolly's Vagina Studies seminar and train both your pussy and anus to Olympic bodybuilding standards. Galvanise both your orifices into exquisite intricacies of She-Woman magnificence. Then simply teach both holes to expertly operate saxophone and double-bass, and scat the night away, baby.
Though dude. Dude. If you do embark thusly? Dude. I would urge you with all my heart to also provide judicious instruction on them playing Duelling Banjos. Seriously. Please please please. Do this one thing. I would happily donate the entirety of my future earnings of this blog if you pull this off. I want to see a vagina duelling its neighbouring anus Banjoly. Oh god. What brilliance. It'll be like Minas Tirith battling Minas Morgul with humongous fuck-off banjos.
Though ... on second thoughts, in my experience, should you sully the purity of these pristine performances with grubby commercialism, y'know, throwing actual money in the mix? My future Sexyverse Advice earnings? Then motives become poisoned, don't they. Profit. Greed. Band members turn on each other. Bad blood supreme. So perhaps I shouldn't become either orifice's Yoko Ono. More's the pity.
Smooth like criminal?
Perhaps you yearn to replicate Michael Jackson's wicked-sick crime-spree performance but your fun-holes won't play ball. Easy peasy. First, follow the previous instruction and beef up your bad boys to Olympic bodybuilding standards, which actually come to think of it you should be doing anyway, just on general principles, so get pompoiring, lazybones. Next, I've evangelised elsewhere on this blog on how to construct ginormous crime empires via prudent Vagina application. Follow that. You'll have all the Criminal you could ever eat.
Smooth like ice?
Cold to the touch and it isn't very nice? Are you Garth Marenghi? If there's anyone who's simultaneously a gigantic asshole and a gigantic, shall we say, vagina, then holy shit surely it's him. Though on second thoughts, the entire premise of his TV show Garth Marenghi's Darkplace is that it's a dreadful piece of shit that a talentless hack like him thinks is astounding. He's a textbook narcissist. He'd already deem everything about him perfect, including all twelve of his orifices. Like hell he'd seek me out, of all people, seeking instruction on augmenting his fun-holes even further. So you're probably not him.
Smooth like seduction?
Dude. Give me a friggin' break. Are you genuinely asking me to provide instruction on extra-smooth Advanced Seduction techniques to actual vaginas and anuses? They're basically Seduction's Final Boss. Trumping those tag-team bad boys would involve heroic construction of some kind of Giga-Hentai super-DUPER-orifice, you know, with thousands of exquisite prehensile suckers, and ethereal dreamlike tentacles, and perhaps a Pez dispenser, collectively able to caress circus strongmen into squees of ecstatic bliss from adjacent postcodes.
I mean I'd absolutely be up for that. But it'd need research funding. So much funding. So, Jenna, I task you thusly: become smooth-like-criminal, build yourself a stupendous drug empire, fax me its profits, and I'll have a thousand-tentacle super-DUPER-orifice for you by Monday, capable of facing off against as many as nineteen conventional vaginas in single combat and be confident of victory. Bring it on, baby.