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Pink Petals of Lady Love
I had a bad night last night. Horrible night. I haven’t had this bad of a night since I was nineteen, drunk as a young little redneck, and out in a bar, dancing on some speakers hoping to impress that brown eyed boy across the dance floor.
I impressed him alright. It was hard not to be impressed when I drunkenly tumbled off the top of the ten feet tall speakers, landed on my head with my skirt around my ears and my flowered granny panties waving hello to all the boys and girls who had gathered around to see if I broke my neck.
I didn’t. But when I stood up I managed to toss my cookies all over my brown eyed boy’s sandaled feet.
It was a bad night. And so was last night.
Not that I was dancing on any speaker for any boy, or yakking publicly on anyone’s toes. But still it was fairly horrible. So bad that the very first thing I did when I woke up was call my darling Boo to tell him about it and have him chase away the ghosts of the night before.
I had a bad dream. A very bad dream. A scary bad dream. No, it didn’t involve my children, any angels or demons or even any natural disasters or unstoppable falls from great heights.
This dream was worse. In it, my best friend and I were at a gym, working out side by side (I know…scary stuff!) when she looks over at me and proclaims she overheard all the boys in the locker room talking and laughing about me behind my back.
She felt it was her duty as my loved one to let me in on why I was the community’s biggest joke. I was horrified. I worried that I was a social misfit, doomed to live the remainder of my days alone after the public came knocking with a lynch mob in tow, took my children from me and Boo left me for a more serene, docile woman.
Begging my friend to tell me, I all but cried with fear for what I was about to hear from her.
“They all know your secret T. You can’t keep it hidden anymore. It’s for the world to know. Why didn’t you tell me? I’m supposed to be your best friend. I would love you no matter what.” She looked at me accusingly, her body language the polar opposite of the cajoling words she whispered.
“I’m sorry,” I stammered, desperately wondering which secret was outted. Did they know I snore? That I stole a lipstick when I was ten from my cousin’s purse? Or did they find out that I secretly lust after Mark Wahlberg, stemming from the days of New Kids On The Block? “I didn’t mean to keep any secrets from you, I was just embarrassed…” I stammered.
“Well your secret is out. The whole world knows you have the world’s ugliest vagina and there is nothing you can do about it. You shouldn’t feel ashamed. Not every one’s whoo-ha is a pretty flower like my own.” She eyed my vagina accusingly, wondering if it’s ugliness would spread to her own cute lady parts.
The rest of the dream was me worrying about my pink bits and if they were indeed, the ugliest pink bits to roam planet Earth.
“Well, Boo. You’ve seen a few, tell me the truth? Is it that ugly? Is it horrible? What’s wrong with my lady parts? Don’t you like my lady sheath?” The worst part of this is, I feared his answer. I was NO LONGER dreaming. Wide-freaking-awake.
“You do realize I just came off of a fourteen hour night shift, supervising a bunch of hillbillies and making sure they didn’t just get the job done, but they didn’t maim or kill themselves?” Odd, he sounded a bit incredulous as he spoke this.
“Well, ya, but the dream was really scary. It was so real.”
“You understand I haven’t slept in 24 hours, eaten in 18, showered in 16 and got laid in almost three weeks…” There it was again…that incredulous tone in his voice. How odd.
“Yes Boo, I get it. Just tell me the truth. Is my cooter pretty?”
Dead silence.
My blood pressure rose as I awaited his response. I mean, I did give birth to three watermelon sized children for him, in a relatively short period of time. How pretty could it be?
“Honey, yours is the prettiest cooter I ever saw. Why do you think I married you? It certainly wasn’t for your domestic skills. Why, your vagina rivals the most beautiful rose…”
Funny. That incredulous tone of his was gone. It was replaced by slight sarcasm and a hint of disdain.
“Very funny. Sorry I asked. I’m just having a little trouble waking up is all.”
“Why don’t you come on up here and I can show you in person just how purdee I think your vajayjay really is?”
“Have a good sleep Boo. I’m going to eat some breakfast now. Love you.” (Asshat.)
“Wait…just think of all the fun me and the lady bits could have…”
Click. Odd, I couldn’t stop myself from hanging up….
I confess though. Before I made breakfast for the kids and sat down to blog this, I did go into the bathroom and debate with myself if I should check out my girly parts with a mirror. (I’m not that bendy to do it without assistance.)
As I was reaching for the mirror, I stopped myself. After all, if I looked, wasn’t I giving the dream credence? What if my whoo-ha really is the ugliest twat in the world? Isn’t it just better to live a life of ignorant bliss?
I thought so. The mystery of the world’s ugliest cooter will have to remain unsolved until the next time I go to bed after eating pickles and cheese and drinking cheap red wine.
But I’m so booking a waxing appointment this week, just in case.
July 15th, 2007 at 9:48 am
Who dreams about their whoo-ha, no matter how pretty - or ugly - it is?
You are toooo funny!!!
I’m glad you did a Sunday post to ad some much needed humor to my day! The blogosphere sure has been dead this weekend. I guess everyone has a life except me.
July 15th, 2007 at 10:16 am
Gee.
My anxiety dreams revolve around final exams.
Huh.
July 15th, 2007 at 11:04 am
I made the mistake of looking at mine 5 weeks postpartum, I have never dared look down yonder again. This is a perfectly valid nightmare and I would have the same horrific wake up as you did. (And the same asshat husband comments)
(P.S. I totally have a girl crush on you but given the newness of our relationship it’s called stalking, not crushing and I don’t want to spend time in a Chicago clink)
July 15th, 2007 at 11:13 am
I watched a porn once (well, more than once but whatever) and I saw the UGLIEST looking cooter I hope to never see again.
Since then, I’ve pretty much not worried about my own. LOL.
But I DO understand the ‘mud flaps’ saying now.
Ewwwwwww …. Seriously - EWW.
July 15th, 2007 at 11:21 am
Flickr! Flickr! Flickr!
July 15th, 2007 at 11:40 am
Only you dear, only you.
July 15th, 2007 at 11:50 am
You’ve never looked at it?
I have thing for Mark Wahberg too. Since those underwear commercials.
July 15th, 2007 at 11:51 am
Hmmmm…not sure what to say about this one, other than Boo keeps coming back for more, so I imagine on a cooter scale of 1 to 10, yours ranks up pretty high.
July 15th, 2007 at 12:06 pm
Oh my, well I have worked as a paramedic and have seen some REALLY UGLY BEARDED CLAMS!! I mean really, in the world of EMS it seems that the fatter a patient is is directly proportional to their want to be naked and spread eagle when you walk in the door!
To be sure there are plently more ugly sideways sloppy joe’s out there than yours
July 15th, 2007 at 12:46 pm
Dude, you are so fricken’ funny, I just love reading your posts…and I actually read this one out loud to the bf sitting on the couch…he swore there couldn’t be anybody as spinny as me out there-but says you come pretty close.
July 15th, 2007 at 1:04 pm
I think they are all fairly ugly, but then I look at boy parts and just laugh.
None of our sexy bits are all that sexy…
July 15th, 2007 at 2:59 pm
Mark Wahlberg…mmmmmmm!!
Saw a show once on Showtime…a documentary…where women all sat in a room together and commented on the unique qualities of each other’s vaginas. Seriously, I have like 17 better things to do.
July 15th, 2007 at 5:30 pm
Holy crap. My high anxiety dreams are about me not being able to run fast enough to save one of my kids. Yours are about your twat.
You really are a perv, aren’t you?
July 15th, 2007 at 5:46 pm
Mark Wahlberg makes me want to touch my whoo ha.
Anyhow, that was pretty darn funny redneck. I am certain your bits are very lovely…not to worry.
July 15th, 2007 at 6:17 pm
dear lord, i can’t even see my toes anymore, let alone the yon.
July 15th, 2007 at 6:34 pm
Yummy, Mark Wahlberg.
July 15th, 2007 at 6:39 pm
I agree with flutter. Male or female, they’re all a little comical looking, don’t you think? Sometimes I think God must have a really great sense of humor. If you want pretty, look at a Georgio O’Keefe painting. The reality just isn’t like that. I don’t think looks are particularly important in this category. There are other senses ya know. It’s all about the performance.
July 15th, 2007 at 6:55 pm
After this post I’m reconsidering sharing a room with you.
July 15th, 2007 at 9:25 pm
Mark Wahlberg is yummy. But you know he wasn’t in NKOTB right? Cuz that was his brother Donnie Wahlberg.
Mark Wahlberg started out as Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. Remember: Good Vibrations (come on come on come on.)
???
July 15th, 2007 at 10:00 pm
I don’t even know what to say…I’m too busy laughing.
July 16th, 2007 at 3:40 am
T, you need help, my dear!
July 16th, 2007 at 5:32 am
you need to get a not-safe-for-work tag, friend. ’cause i was reading along, all concerned for you and yer bad dream, and then i honked out loud and snot came out my nose.
i’m sure your cooter is a picture. and you, you are a symphony, babee.
July 16th, 2007 at 6:58 am
Oh, good Lord, woman, there is no way on earth I would be trying to look at my hooha, no way. It kind of scares me what it must look like. But hubby’s happy, so I don’t care.
Obviously, Boo has no trouble with yours. So sorry it’s causing you so much consternation, though. Maybe some body glitter would make you feel better about it? Kinda like when you get new clothes that make you look hot, you feel hot even when you aren’t wearing them because of the confidence boost?
And I must say, the comments on this post are pretty stinkin’ funny.
July 16th, 2007 at 9:26 am
i almost peed myself laughing
July 16th, 2007 at 10:36 am
Now *this* is why I love ya. *myah* ;^)
July 17th, 2007 at 2:02 pm
I’m totally on board with you on this…my yearly OB-GYN appt is this week. Even though I’ve had 2 kids, it’s still unnerving to have someone look at you down there…much less someone who spends their days with all kinds of whoo-ha’s. I worry more about being “tidy” for the dr. than I usually do for husband. That’s bad!
July 17th, 2007 at 7:35 pm
Oh my. I can’t imagine a pretty vagina, no matter what it has or hasn’t been through. But who cares? Doesn’t it still serve its purpose? Or maybe I just haven’t seen many vaginas in my time.
July 18th, 2007 at 9:45 am
Thank you Great Dane Addict. No NKOTB for Mark! God T.!! Such a disappointment!
You’re such a HUGE perv. I’m like Tulip, dreaming about not being able to run fast enough, teeth falling out… not if I have an ugly cooter. LOL
Only you. Dirt bag.
July 18th, 2007 at 5:45 pm
Hahahahaha
I am so glad Bubblewench linked you on her blog! You are hilarious!
And they’re all pretty ugly, I guess. Unless you’re into that sort of thing…
July 19th, 2007 at 11:45 am
A dick-shun-ary to help you be like a ‘merican Redneck, as opposed to one uh dem Canadians. Is that like being French, honey? My husband says we in the US use the term “Redneck” differently than youse guys up in Canada do, eh? Redneck to you is more like a good ol’ boy. To us, the kind of neighbor you don’t want. Or a Hillbilly!
HEIDI - noun. Greeting.
HIRE YEW - Complete sentence. Remainder of greeting.
Usage: Heidi, hire yew?
BARD - verb. Past tense of the infinitive “to borrow.”
Usage: “My brother bard my pickup truck.”
MUNTS - noun. A calendar division.
Usage: “My brother from Jawjuh bard my pickup truck and I ain’t herd from him in munts.”
THANK - verb. Ability to cognitively process.
Usage: “Ah thank ah’ll have a bare.”
BARE - noun. An alcoholic beverage made of barley, hops, and yeast.
Usage: “Ah thank ah’ll have a bare.”
RANCH - noun. A tool used for tight’nin’ bolts.
Usage: “I thank I left my ranch in the back of that pickup truck my brother from Jawjuh bard a few munts ago.”
ALL - noun. A petroleum-based lubricant.
Usage: “I sure hope my brother from Jawjuh puts all in my pickup truck.”
FAR - noun. A conflagration.
Usage: “If my brother from Jawjuh don’t change the all in my pickup truck, that thing’s gonna catch far.”
TAR - noun. A rubber wheel.
Usage: “Gee, I hope that brother of mine from Jawjuh don’t git a flat tar in my pickup truck.”
TIRE - noun. A tall monument.
Usage: “Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise, I sure do hope to see that Eiffel Tire in Paris sometime.”
RETARD - Verb. To stop working.
Usage: “My grampaw retard at age 65.”
FAT - noun, verb. 1. a battle or combat.
2. to engage in battle or combat.
Usage: “You younguns keep fat’n, n’ ah’m gonna whup y’uh.”
RATS - noun. Entitled power or privilege.
Usage: “We Southerners are willin’ to fat for are rats.”
FARN - adjective. Not local.
Usage: “I cuddint unnerstand a wurd he sed….
mus’ be from some farn country.”
DID - adjective. Not alive.
Usage: “He’s did, Jim.”
EAR - noun. A colorless, odorless gas: Oxygen.
Usage: “He cain’t breathe….give ‘im some ear!”
BOB WAR - noun. A sharp, twisted cable.
Usage: “Boy, stay away from that bob war fence.”
JEW HERE - Noun and verb contraction.
Usage: “Jew here that my brother from Jawjuh got a job with that bob war fence cump’ny?”
HAZE - a contraction.
Usage: “Is Bubba smart?” “Nah….haze ignert.
He ain’t thanked but a minnit ‘n ‘is laf.”
SEED - verb, past tense of “to see”.
VIEW - contraction: verb and pronoun.
Usage: “I ain’t never seed New York City….view?”
GUMMIT - Noun. A bureaucratic institution.
Usage: “Them gummit boys shore are ignert.”
July 22nd, 2007 at 7:05 pm
I’ve never laughed so hard at a snatch story.
I’m totally booking a wax now.