Sunday, February 12, 2006
Tonight I went to an organizing meeting for The Vagina Monologues. That's right, America, you spend enough time yakking about your cooter on the internet and eventually, someone's going to ask you if you want to help out while other women talk about vaginas. How could I say no? The meeting started with an informal discussion of changing this year's The Vagina Monologues to Brokeback Valley. This is funny for the nice yonic* imagery and because the director's name is Vali. So, you get two laughs for the price of one. However, since we already had the posters made, we're sticking with The Vagina Monologues. Then it descended into a bunch of us standing around Vali's bathroom while she shot footage of us talking about our cooters. The weirdest part? The chick from Martini Ministries was there. Seriously. I blogged about her three days ago and Voila! she appears. Well, this is interesting, folks. Let's talk about some good-hearted, smart, kind, witty man with delightful stubble and big broad shoulders and a fuzzy belly and sweet, soft kisses who'll buy me dinner and fuck me so exquisitely the neighbors are embarrassed. Let's see if such a man comes crawling out of the woodwork this week. Oh, shoot. I'm late to go get the Butcher. Anyway--The Vagina Monologues. 9:30 p.m. February 25th at the Belcourt. $25. I hear there'll be chocolate cooters. How can you resist chocolate cooters? Mmm. Sweet, sweet cooters... *Yep, yonic. I'm breaking out the high-faluting words on you now. Also, I stink. I'm sorry to the folks who had to sit next to me. I was the girl wearing her slippers and her pajamas with her overalls over them. It was just that kind of day. I took a shower and put my pajamas back on.