Usually there would be a lot more said/heard/overheard, but I spent too much time barfing.
“So your foot smells like vagina now?”
“I want to eat my armpits.”
“The new name for my vagina is the Grub Shack.”
“NUM, NUM, NUM! I’m going to say that the next time I get a boner in my mouth.”
It’s like I want to know the context and yet. . . I am afraid.
It’s probably smart to be afraid of the context.
AAAAAAAAAAA!
That last one frightens me, although I am laughing at the same time.
Truly, my hubby’s pits smell so good, I’m tempted to lick, but deodorant tastes really bad, and feels weird on the tongue.
Num Num Num
I am soooo using that
Grub Shack baby… your tin rooffff rusted!
ohdearlord. Hilarious. Context is so good in my imagination I wouldn’t want to spoil it with reality.
Longtime lurker (and enjoyer) of your blog but non-commenter. However, when I stumbled over this link on vag tune-ups, I just had to send it to you.
http://nymag.com/daily/fashion/2008/07/since_when_is_going_to_the_gyn.html
So, how was grandma’s house anyway?
Wow! This is hilarious!
Too funny.
Totally off topic, but I’m sure you will be fine with it, I was watching The Golden Girls this morning and noticed that Sophia reminds me of my doctor that I have a tiny crush on.
HYSTERICAL!!!