I promise not to devote this post to the word vagina, but I do feel like I need to pay regular homage to the word and the genitalia since it now refers so many people to my blog…my blog that I neglect terribly. So, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll try to seamlessly allude to the vagina in some way in every post from now on. Or maybe not. Anyway, in case you were wondering how to write it in Persian, here it is: مهبل.
On to less important things! Back in January I explored my questionable habit of talking about my mom and the people/places/things she likes with too much frequency. Then yesterday I realized that I’ve been neglecting to tap into the flip side: things she doesn’t like!
It came up while on the phone with her the other day. I mentioned that I had watched Moonstruck for the second time in three months the night before, and how much I’d enjoyed the experience. And that’s when she declared, “I don’t like Cher.” It wasn’t said offhandedly either. It was said in a tone that implied some sort of deep disgust and disapproval with the woman. I’ll have to investigate.
Myself, I’m kind of indifferent about Cher. I remember it was awkward when she guest starred on “Will & Grace.” And I remember being exposed to all sorts of biographical information on her when Sonny Bono died. How she used to have terrible stage fright. How the light rock favorites radio stations love to play her songs (especially “The Shoop Shoop Song”). How she has long hair. Stuff like that.
Anyway, Nicholas Cage’s performance in the clip below blows my mind. I want to memorize the lines, dress up in an apron, chop off part of my hand, and recreate his performance because it looks like he’s having that much fun. His character is just insane (I especially like the “HUH? SWEETIE?” part). God, it’s sexy. And, it’s a little tragic. Nowadays Nicholas Cage is all whored out in those Disney action-adventure movies meant to rape families of a hard-earned 50 bucks. Also, I worry about his gaunt face and rapidly thinning hair. I know there’s that whole aging process thing, but what happened to this dude:
Hmm. I didn’t know Cher was so feisty! An illuminating conversation with Sonny, Cher, and Dave:
Oh. My. God. Something beautiful has happened. In the past few days, HUNDREDS more people than usual have viewed my blog. And it’s all thanks to a little search term called…vagina.
Plain ol’ “vagina” is bringing in the most people, but runners up include “big vagina,” “dirty vagina,” “vagina is purple,” “piece of vagina” (ah!), “light up vagina” (OOH!), and “how to make a finger vagina.” That last one sounds like it came from a terribly confused soul who inquired about a noun when a verb was intended.
In case you only recall there ever being talk of Barbara Walters lap dances or Tom Brokaw sex dreams on this blog, click here to see a giant bicycle vagina. That also sounds like it was meant to be a verb (giant vagina bicycling), but it really is a noun. It’s a giant bicycle vagina. And it’s amazing.
Well. I got completely distracted by vaginas in this post. Here are some less interesting things I may have done had vaginas not stolen the show:
Complained tirelessly about banks and their exorbitant overdraft charges.
Cooked you a steak like Cher in Moonstruck. (You’d have eaten it rare while wearing a wooden hand.)
Presented a hypothetical question asking: “If you were a predator, would you be less likely to pursue as prey someone who walked down the sidewalk wielding a fork?”
Reminisced about the Halloween I dressed up as a fork.
Mentioned the fork that is literally in my road, in the tar of my road.
I don't know what the story is with this bicycle turned vagina, but it's clearly the best thing ever.
I went to see “The Vagina Monologues” at my alma mater tonight. When we walked in, in order to be let through, we told the security guards we were going to see it, so naturally the word “vagina” was used. One of the security guards straight out giggled. And another attempted a joke, saying, “Is that open to the public?” It’s just like…really? And if I say “boobies” are you going to piss your pants?
Anyway. They did a really great job with the monologues. The proceeds of productions usually go to support woman’s anti-violence groups. Groups that, unfortunately, still need the funding:
A police officer is being investigated in the rape of an East Village woman he escorted home after being told she was too drunk to stand, law enforcement sources said.
The officer and his partner came to the woman after a cab driver called 911 on Dec. 7, telling cops she had vomited in his car and couldn’t find cab fare, the source said.
Law enforcement sources said they had surveillance video from the victim’s apartment building showing the two cops helping the drunken woman inside and returning to the building a second time more than a half hour later. The woman reported the rape to the Manhattan district attorney’s office, where officials are currently investigating the complaint, the source said.
Both cops, whose names were not released, were stripped of their guns and badges and placed on modified desk duty.
A lawyer for one of the officers, Stephen Worth, declined to comment.
NYPD Internal Affairs investigators searched both cops’ lockers and found one packet of heroin.
The officer accused of rape told colleagues he had forgotten to voucher the drugs after confiscating them in a separate case.
No. But I did attend a couple information sessions about becoming one.
Madame?
"A title of respect used in speaking to or of an older woman, especially one of distinction, who is not of American or British origin."
Definitely not.
madamelibrarian