quizzical pussy

So, today is International Women’s Day. It’s also Fat Tuesday. You know what that means, right?

Everybody eat pussy!

…As long as that doesn’t mean that we can’t again until Easter, of course.

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(…with not-so-quick explainy stuff before and after)

Do you seem to get into a lot of arguments about rape, and you don’t really know why? Have you ever wondered why your statements about rape get negative reactions from feminists and victims/survivors? If you’d genuinely like to understand what’s going on, and maybe even reevaluate your stance on sexual assault, please read on…

It has occurred to me that many people may not understand what being a rape apologist means versus someone willing to be an ally to victims. Like it or not, in a discussion about rape, you will usually come off as one or the other. There is no side of any rational argument saying “Rape is great! There should be more rape!”, so often when people think they’re representing a middle ground they’re actually the extreme side, the apologist side, against the “Rapists are made of pure, unadulterated suck!” side. Just accept now that “Rape is never okay, but what did the victim think was going to happen when she went back to that dude’s apartment wearing that postage stamp of a skirt!?” isn’t the cool-headed voice of reason between two equally valid arguments.

We tend to not see self-described rapists entering public, philosophical debates about rape. So an apologist ends up as the rapist’s de facto voice (most often not intentionally), representing the rapist’s interests and trying to divvy out the blame more evenly. This is why people, especially rape victims or those who empathize with them, don’t tend to exclaim “Thank you for your brilliant and original perspective! Bless my buttons! I’ve simply never thought of it that way!” when confronted with an apologist’s comments.

Rape apologists aren’t rapists (see: rapists), nor are they consciously trying to defend rapists (see: trolls). Blaming the victim or insinuating that the victim has some responsibility for an attack (a maneuver coincidentally known as “blaming the victim”) are rituals woven into the fabric of society. It doesn’t make you an automatic monster, or even rare. But understand, please, that because of this your opinions are also far from revelatory, marginalized, and vital to the discussion.

This type of discourse about rape can be very hurtful, and I can’t for the life of me figure out how it’s helpful. You might not know if you’re coming off as speaking from a rape apologist platform. You probably don’t feel like you are. “Rape apologist” isn’t exactly a self-identification. But, you know, there’s an internet quiz for everything these days, and ZOMG here comes one now!

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Quizzical Pussy’s Quick and Dirty Rape Apologist Quiz!

Read the following statements and try to react to them naturally:

1. Approximately 1 in 6 women is raped or otherwise sexually assaulted in her lifetime. Approximately 1 in 33 men is raped or otherwise sexually assaulted in his lifetime.*
2. Rape is underreported.
3. Nothing any rape victim does or leaves undone before, during, or after a rape can make the rape her or his fault or responsibility.
4. Rape can and does occur by means of physical force, coercion, and/or lack of the victim’s ability to consent.
5. Rapists are responsible for the rapes they commit, and they have the choice to not rape.

If you can fundamentally agree with these statements, not just here, but when you confront them on the internet or in real life, and (this is key) you don’t feel compelled to add a “but…” then we can probably have a productive conversation about rape. If you contest them or continually need to add a caveat, then the way you discuss rape might come off as more compassionate toward the perpetrators than the victims. In that case, you are being a rape apologist.

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Be really honest with yourself here. If you fall into the latter group, it doesn’t mean you’re a horrible ogre and have no right to speak your mind, ever. It doesn’t mean you have to suddenly agree with everything I say, or even that this five-item list comprehends the entirety of points and truths related to rape. And yes, you have every right to voice your opinions. But you’re very likely not as useful to the dialogue as you believe you are.

I simply don’t understand what you think is going to happen if you just listen to the anti-rape, pro-victim point of view without getting defensive and argumentative. Do you feel like we anti-rape extremists are going to get too comfortable with having our views go unchallenged and start filing police reports indiscriminately? Do you think we’re going to collectively decide that every time we had consensual sex in the past, gee, now that we think about it, we were probably raped?

The whole “All intercourse is rape” thing is about as much a strawman as “Rape is great!” Sane people don’t feel that way. Believe sex bloggers don’t feel that way. What we (I’m going out on a limb and speaking for others here) really want is to not be raped. But at very, very least we want to be taken seriously if we are, and to be allowed to be compassionate to rape victims without getting blamed and lectured, or having our experiences trivialized.

* Please note that rape is also perpetrated upon those who don’t identify as fitting within the gender binary.

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I’ve been abused by a partner before, and I’ve had to deal with rape. You know what I think is really, really funny? Usually not jokes about domestic abuse and sexual assault. Go figure.

There was a time when these issues dominated my life much more completely than they do today. I couldn’t bring myself to say the word “rape” in relation to what happened to me for a very long time, despite the fact that a man put his penis inside me as I begged him not to, having told him multiple times before that moment that I had no intention of having intercourse with him. I still couldn’t say the word. It’s still hard. And the physical abuse’s effects were even broader. I still cringe a little from any hint of anger in a man I’m close to. I have slid face first into flashbacks complete with dissociation because someone touched my neck the wrong way. I’ve felt like I was back in the thick of terror and pain just because of a sharp gesture in my direction. Now, jokes about rape and abuse don’t hurt me like they used to, but I will never think those subjects are intrinsically funny.

But clearly they are to some people. And that’s okay, to a point. Let it never be said that I’m the enemy to all offensive humor. But honestly, there’s a point at which it gets to be a little much.

I’ve spent a lot of time in the comedy community, with stand-up and improv performers, and I know that what is funny is deeply rooted in making unexpected choices. Sometimes the simplest way to be unexpected is to say something shocking. Even if it gets to the point where your audience is waiting for you to say something offensive, part of them will still be astounded if you go far enough.

That’s where gems like “What do you tell a woman with two black eyes? …Nothing. You already told her twice,” and “What do 9 out of 10 people enjoy? …Gang rape,” come in. Have you heard those? Have you laughed at them? Was it because you were uncomfortable or because you really think they’re funny?

If you actually like those kinds of jokes, that doesn’t make you an asshole. They’re well-constructed classic one-liners. The set-up questions each suggest a particular range of appropriate responses, and the punchline completely demolishes those anticipations in a shocking way. The first time you hear these they’re unexpected. And that’s comedy. And one truth in comedy is that sometimes what’s funny to you might be deeply hurtful to someone else.

A few days ago, Not An Odalisque, a blogger from the U.K., tweeted links to these two articles on The Guardian: The Rise of Rape Talk and The Rise of the Rape Joke. Basically, both deal with the idea that people are talking about rape more and more, just not in any serious way. Instead, people seem to use “rape” as a metaphor or a comedic device. A few examples:

• Heavyweight boxer David Haye tells an opponent that their upcoming match will be as “one-sided as a gang rape”, and then basically laughs it off when people are offended.
• Over a million people “like” “Thanks wind, you have totally raped my hair” on Facebook.
• Popular stand-up comedian Jimmy Carr’s new show is called “Rapier Wit”. Get it? Because of all the hilarious rape!

I agree with Not An Odalisque’s critique about the articles lacking nuance. In particular, the second one says: “Even the women are at it [making jokes about rape]: Geordie comic Sarah Millican has a skit about fetishistic rape roleplays with her boyfriend.” Rape fantasies and rape roleplay are not rape. They’re consensual. Therefore, Sarah Millican, whoever that is, doesn’t appear to be making rape jokes from the information they’re giving us. Although it’s possible that hearing about someone else’s rape fantasies could be a trigger for a rape victim, I can’t imagine it would be as hurtful for most as some guy joking about how he raped a girl who wouldn’t have sex with him.

I don’t know that this is necesarily a new thing. If we’re talking “last five years” new, maybe as an isolated stand-up fad (I haven’t researched that on my own), but otherwise not so much. If we’re talking “last twenty years”, it’s very likely that it’s more acceptable to say those things in public than it was back then, but odds are very good that behind closed doors rape jokes have been made for a very long time. Often it seems like society is losing its innocence when it’s really only losing its politeness. I don’t think people have ever been innocent; I just think that mass media used to a) not exist, and b) when it started to exist, took dramatic steps to hide human nature. There was probably no simpler time for society at large, just simpler gadgets. And of course most of us remember a time when everything was comparatively tame: it was called childhood. What I picked up on in the ’80s and ’90s doesn’t even come close to what was getting thrown around.

Maybe people are making light of rape now more than ever, though. If that’s the case, what can one do (assuming one thinks that’s a problem)? In the U.S. (and many other places), we’re lucky that there’s no way to stop them. I don’t want to stop them. I like free speech and I like it for tools, patriots, zealots, artists, meanies, boxers, and boring people as much as I like it for myself. But the right to free speech provides its own feedback system. If you think a comment or joke is in poor taste, you can speak up; you can make it a point not to laugh, even if part of you finds it funny. We as individuals have very little control over what other people (or even we) find funny. And if people will laugh at it, other people are always going to be willing to say it.

I think that The Guardian is absolutely right about one thing: we’d probably hear the term “rape” bandied about less in this manner if more people realized that rape is more common than they think. It seems like so much misunderstanding comes from the fact that people (rightly, to a point) consider stranger rape to be fairly uncommon, but they also think on some level that that’s what rape is. Period. It’s almost like they forget about acquaintance rape, which happens so much more often.

If people who told these jokes to a bunch of friends or an audience thought “Wow, the chances are pretty high that one of these people was the victim of the exact devastating thing I’m joking about,” it might change things. Of course, maybe for some of them that would make it a lot more funny, but those are the kind of people I don’t much want to listen to no matter what they’re saying.

(image source)

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The Royal Kumari of Kathmandu always strikes me as a tragedy. Not a walking tragedy, mind, because of course she is not strictly allowed to walk.

The Royal Kumari is a little girl in Nepal who has passed a long list of physical, behavioral, and astrological criteria, and a series of complicated tests, to be declared the physical manifestation of the badass goddess Durga. She has among her attributes (according to Wikipedia):

• a neck like a conch shell
• a body like a banyan tree
• eyelashes like a cow
• thighs like a deer
• chest like a lion
• voice soft and clear as a duck’s

…whatever that means!

After she’s been selected, the Royal Kumari leaves her old life behind. She moves to a palace and becomes a living deity. Each movement and expression is analyzed; she’s treated with awe and deference; her feet can never touch the ground. She also wears a really complexion-killing amount of makeup on her forehead every day.

Then, one day she gets her first period, and it all stops. She’s no longer a goddess. She’s just some kid the goddess used to inhabit but doesn’t anymore and never will again. They start looking for a new, untainted Kumari immediately, and she’d better have a neck like a conch shell, dammit.

The scorned, newly adolescent, erstwhile Kumari will get a pension from the government for the rest of her life, probably move on, get married (despite a tradition that it’s unlucky to marry a former Kumari), do whatever it is you do with your life in Nepal. It’s not a bad gig, really.

But how jarring, how devastating is it to be a goddess one day and a mortal girl the next? How cast-off must she feel? How embarrassed and enraged that her body betrayed her by succumbing to menarche?

I wonder if it feels like the first time you realize someone is falling out of love with you, but in her case that someone is a deity, a religion, and an entire country.

(image source)

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Hopeless tool of the patriarchy that I am, I just don’t like having very much pubic hair. I’ve been shaving to various degrees since I was sixteen, even though no one was helping me enjoy it until two years after that. It’s a tactile thing: I like feeling smoothness when I play with myself; I don’t want hair dampening sensation. To me, a shaved pussy doesn’t look much– if at all– better, and as long as I can sort out what’s where I don’t mind other people maintaining a healthy bush themselves.

But I’ve always had different standards for myself than I have for others. That’s why I feel confident saying you’re a degenerate for reading this smut.

In the realm of pussyshaving, though, you know what I hate? Razor burn. I hate it with the passion that we reserve for those who disagree with our politics and cut in front of us in line. It itches, and looks ugly, and sometimes even hurts (especially if you try to shave over it). I’m going out on a limb and guessing that every person who’s ever seen me naked, and not mentioned a razor burn that I had at all, didn’t exactly swoon over it either. I only fuck the brave, oblivious and/or polite, apparently.

Because, you see, I tend to get it a lot. Those chicks with gorgeously naked genitals swathed in silky, flawless skin? I’m not sure what they’re doing but I suspect they’re not shaving. Or maybe they are, and my skin is even more sensitive and fussy than I thought. Or I’m a Oh God I’m a freak of nature, aren’t I?

Bikini Zone cream has always helped the issue, but I accidentally transferred it from my hands to my lips after applying once, and the taste is not something you want on your pussy unless you’ve utterly despaired of getting oral sex that day. So there went that solution.

It’s actually been a lot better lately because I’m following the rule of only shaving with the grain of hair growth, which I used to think was for pussies. It turns out that it really, truly is, and should be observed accordingly. I’m also shaving a little less often (mostly because I’m exhausted and therefore not as precious about my bush these days), and conscientiously applying coconut oil after shaving.

Still, based on the recommendation of some head-shaving friends, I’m wondering if a safety razor is actually a gentler, superior shave, or just makes them feel like fancy gentlemen. Also, if this stuff works.

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Modern demons have advanced a bit.

Words are like people. Complex. They each have a history, an evolution. And just like when you sleep with someone you’re also sleeping with everyone that person has ever slept with (hawt), when you say a word you summon up all these wonderful tendrils of ghostly meanings that you might not even realize.

And some of the tendrils just tickle me.

Chastity and celibacy are now used interchangeably to mean “miserable”…er, rather, to mean “the state of not fucking”. In days of yore, though, neither of them meant that. You could actually be either and also get laid. Chastity referred to having no illicit sexual liaisons, so no-frills sex inside marriage for purposes of procreation was perfectly chaste. Celibacy simply meant “the state of not marrying”. Celibate clergy would have loads of bastard babies back in yore.

The etymological roots of incubus and succubus come from the Latin for “to lie upon” and “to lie under”, respectively. This suggests that even demons observe the missionary position. How bland.

There’s no point to this other than the fact that I find it terribly interesting.

(image source)

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This may be hard to believe, but I try not to be a jerk about other peoples’ religious beliefs, or their political beliefs, for that matter. Just because I disagree with someone doesn’t make her/him a moron, an idiot, or a worse or less valuable person. In fact, I seek to respect and learn from the opinions of others. I think that in general people want freedom, equality, safety, and to do the right thing to the best of their ability. Because there’s no easy answer to how to best accomplish these things, and because there are many ways to prioritize them, people may have different views, but very rarely do you find someone whose beliefs are malicious.

At least that’s what I want to think. But then people gotta piss me off, and my good intentions suddenly aren’t worth the internet real estate they’re rendered on.

It’s May, which apparently means that lots of weddings are starting to happen. I’m going to two in the next month, in fact. Can you smell the calla lilies, the poised shotguns, the feckless optimism, the… somethings blue? I knew you could.

Anyway, my little brother recently went to a good friend’s wedding and came back with an appalling report. No, the bridesmaids didn’t have (gasp!) butch haircuts. It was way worse than that. The wedding was apparently crazy sexist, so much so that my brother, who is not a feminist crusader in the least, noticed it and was profoundly disturbed.

I’m not talking about the general complaints you might hear about how marriage is an institution perpetrated by the patriarchy, or even how the act of a father “giving away” the bride in marriage is a call back to a business transaction where women were chattel and men held all the chips. What I’m talking about is something that I really didn’t realize existed in mainstream American culture anymore at all: the bride and groom agreed to entirely different things in their vows.

The main reading was the whole “Wives submit to your husbands” thing that I wish would just die already, (Can we just take Ephesians, or actually all the Paul of Tarsus stuff, out of the Bible? That’d be super.) I realize that it’s not my business to decide who gets to call the shots in someone else’s relationship, and that I should not take this personally. Maybe the bride explicitly wanted her vows to agree to being controlled. But the idealist in me finds it upsetting that two (presumably non-kinky) people would set the tone for their marriage with a religious reading about power dynamics. “Love is patient, love is kind” is hackneyed, yes, but at least it’s not appointing a mayor of the marriage right then and there. So maybe it only follows that the stated vows reflected that. I don’t know what they said verbatim, but according to what my brother told me it was probably something roughly like this:

Groom
I, _____, take you, ______, to be my wedded wife. With deepest joy I receive you into my life that together we may be one. As is Christ to His body, the church, so I will be to you a loving and faithful husband. Always will I perform my headship over you even as Christ does over me, knowing that His Lordship is one of the holiest desires for my life. I promise you my deepest love, my fullest devotion, my tenderest care. I promise I will live first unto God rather than others or even you. I promise that I will lead our lives into a life of faith and hope in Christ Jesus. Ever honoring God’s guidance by His spirit through the Word, And so throughout life, no matter what may lie ahead of us, I pledge to you my life as a loving and faithful husband.

Bride
I, _____, take you, ______, to be my wedded husband. With deepest joy I come into my new life with you. As you have pledged to me your life and love, so I too happily give you my life, and in confidence submit myself to your headship as to the Lord. As is the church in her relationship to Christ, so I will be to you. _____, I will live first unto our God and then unto you, loving you, obeying you, caring for you and ever seeking to please you. God has prepared me for you and so I will ever strengthen, help, comfort, and encourage you. Therefore, throughout life, no matter what may be ahead of us, I pledge to you my life as an obedient and faithful wife.

Notice how only one of them has to say “submit” and “obedient”? Also, “performing headship” over someone is not something I’d want to discuss in front of my parents and brand new in-laws and great aunties, if you know what I mean.

I’ve sat through many, many sermons in my life. Some of them opined that Harry Potter is a Satanic text, and some of them patiently explained that the idea of comparing a husband and his wife to Jesus and his church doesn’t explicitly state that one is better than the other, they’re just different, and hell, someone has to be in charge! But why does someone have to be in charge in a relationship? Is it because talking things over and coming to mutually agreeable conclusions wastes valuable time that could be spent praying? I mean, it’s fun to have someone in charge in bed, but I wouldn’t even agree to that permanently.

I suggest that it’s all bullshit; the Jesus/church comparison belies any claim of “separate but equal”. In the Christian faith I was raised in, Jesus is absolutely held up as superior to the church. He’s the paragon of life, for fuck’s sake, and the church is devoted to worshiping him. To say that this comparison doesn’t elevate the man over the woman in a relationship isn’t just wack, it’s wiggity wack. Ladies, if you’re going to give up that much power, at least have a safeword.

P.S. “I do” is not a safe word.

(image source)

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I’m realizing more and more that I’m oddly picky about sex terminology.

The term “cock worship” grates on me. I don’t love the term “pussy worship” either, but it doesn’t gnaw on my raw patriarchy nerve, and so doesn’t bother me nearly as much.

But I don’t like calling that cock worship. I guess I don’t want to feel less important than a body part, even if it’s a really fun body part. If that implication is built into your power dynamic, cool, but it’s something I’ve never signed up for, so it doesn’t apply to me. If I’m just sucking your cock don’t try to transform it into a religious experience I’m meant to be having without consulting me about it first, buddy.

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I’m not sure if you’re into the whole Easter thing. I consider it an annoying, primarily religious, holiday, particularly since I’m not a big candy eater these days. My one fond Easter association is this book, which I guess is a feminist parable according to all the Amazon reviews. I never thought about that before. It was just one of my favorites as a kid.

Anyway, have a bunny with a bullet through his head:

P.S. It’s a cock ring!

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Tight pussy, wet cunt, sore kitty, sloppy twat. Lady business.

I make enthusiastic use of both vulgar and euphemistic slang when it comes to my girl parts, for reasons manifold. First of all, there’s no good catch-all official term that includes all female genitalia. You know the whole “boys have a penis, girls have a vagina” thing? It’s tragically incomplete. Girls each have a vagina, yes, but that word only comprehends the internal canal, and that really doesn’t cut it when we’re talking about sex organs– even just the fun ones. The external genitalia is called a vulva. So when someone says “she has a cute vagina” that someone is probably either wielding an autopsy saw, or just plain confused.

You can argue that the term “penis” doesn’t describe a man’s complete genital package, considering that testicles are left out. However, vulvas and vaginas and penises are all usually considered central to sexual response and interaction. Balls are more a fun embellishment, like nipple stimulation or perineal play. (Anyway, stop trying to derail my pedantic flow with your pedantry.) The vulva/vagina combo is fundamental. The way I see it, it’s more like the head of the penis and the shaft than the penis and balls. It’s one well-oiled, multi-faceted, stupendous orgasm-making machine. But what do you call a vulva/vagina combo? I dunno. A pussy, right?

Or one of the countless other colloquial solutions. I mean, no one ever insists “No no no! My cunt doesn’t include my labia majora. Why on earth would you say that?” Slang is so deliciously vague. And we need that forgiving linguistic mist, or more people will walk around calling vulvas vaginas and I will just scream. I don’t want to live in that world.

There are other reasons for the slang, though. To some people, hearing “I want you touch my vulva like this…” doesn’t exactly provoke feverish lust. It’s too clinical. “Slap my little cunt harder” or similar might get a more enthusiastic response.

Also, some of these terms are terribly fun to say. We’ll come back to that.

When it comes to advertising, there’s a special problem, because apparently even when we’re talking about a body part in the most practical, least sexual sense, networks don’t want to hear the word, as Kotex recently discovered when they tried to air a pert little tampon commercial that mocks tampon advertising tropes and featured the word “vagina”, which is incidentally where you put tampons. The networks didn’t even want to hear a euphemism like “down there”, which Kotex used in their second cut after “vagina” was rejected. I’m supposing they sure as hell don’t want to hear “cunt”.

Which is one of the reasons I think Moon Cup’s new website loveyourvagina.com is clever. (For those of you who don’t know, a Moon Cup is a soft silicone cup that you put in your [actual] vagina to catch your menstrual discharge instead of using a tampon or pad. I suspect the motive for all this has to do with ecology, feminism, or possibly both. I’m half tempted to try a moon cup and review it because I think it could potentially end up being my comic masterpiece. Please comment on this entry to let me know if this is a great idea or too horrifying.) I can’t say that their hours-of-fun list of publicly generated and ranked terms for female genitalia has anything to do with Kotex’s recent debacle, but it’s definitely an internet fuck-you to network sensibilities, which is what viral marketing is all about, I guess. And! “Cunt” is coming in third!

I refuse to comment on LYV’s use of the word “vagina” beyond saying that it’s clear that their product is meant for vaginae (the real plural form of vagina, I swear!) while it’s also clear that they’re asking for terms describing the vulva/vagina combo. Sometimes I feel like I need Jeff Goldblum to put drops of water on my hand and explain incomprehensible things to me.

So I decided to review a few of my favorites from my own daily vocabulary as well as some I pulled off loveyourvagina.com. I can guarantee that very few people will agree with me across the board here, so I’m not speaking for all women or all disabled bisexuals who like dinosaurs or all anythings.

1. Pussy! (#5 according to LYV) To me, pussy is the best all-purpose term. Clever you probably guessed this when you read my site’s name. I don’t feeling dumb saying this during sex or in casual conversation. It seems playful, fun, and a little dirty to me.
2. Cunt! (#3 on LYV) I once saw a documentary TV show where an old gray-haired lady joyfully explained that the Middle English terms “cock” and “cunt” went together, and her enthusiasm softened my feelings about the c-word considerably. By sound alone, cunt is an abrupt, rude word, which isn’t always a bad thing. It is kind of annoying when people use cunt as an insult* because it sounds so violent but it just means “vulva/vagina combo”. The playfulness seems to seep out of the whole enterprise and we’re just left with a slap of a word that seems to be directed toward female anatomy. But a little levity softens it enough to make it hilarious. To describe anatomy, cunt is sometimes very erotic but it’s funny conversationally. “My cunt is hungry for manflesh” is automatically funnier than it would be with almost any other word.
3. Twat! (no rank on LYV) Old sassy ladies can use this to describe their genitals. The rest of us need to use it primarily as an insult.* In that respect, it may be unmatched.
4. Cunny! (#530 on LYV) Cunny is supremely fun to say. Try it now. I’ll wait. I can’t see myself using it in an intimate context, but it is great for daywear. If you’ve watched the B.B.C./H.B.O. series Rome, you may suspect why I particularly love this term, and you’re right! I also frequently use the phrase “wet as October” to jokingly indicate arousal for the same reason. Plus, October is a wet month where I come from.
5. Lady Business! (#176 on LYV) This one makes me laugh every time I hear it. It’s so delicate that it goes back around into filthy. Or maybe just funny.
6. Pudendum! (#278 on LYV) Derived from Latin for “to be ashamed”, pudenda is not a sex-positive term. I cannot say it without a fake accent. Can you?
7. Vajajay! (#14 on LYV) I can’t stand this one, mostly because grown women tend to use this toddler-learning-to-talk term without a hint of irony. They are what’s wrong with society. I’m only half kidding here.
8. The Downtown Dining and Entertainment District! (#2 on LYV) Although this is another overly-euphemistic, “I don’t want to say a word that might make my mouth dirty” kind of term, it’s also too cute, so I don’t mind it. I would only use it if I were talking to someone I knew would be alarmed by a more aggressive term, but also wasn’t horrified by the inherent sexual implications therein. In my world, that leaves about two people.
9. Vagoo! (#59 on LYV) This is another one I can’t imagine saying while actually using the body parts in question: “Ooooh, pound my vagoo harder! Yes!” Um, no. I know several grown men who use this one, though, and it is a glorious thing to witness.
10. Moot? (#1 on LYV) So “moot” is winning as I write this. It’s the most popular term, and absolutely new to me. A very quick google hunt tells me that it probably originates in Australia, and is supposed to rhyme with “foot”. It’s awkward to say and not even accidentally sexy, but the people have spoken! Maybe it’s a cultural thing and I don’t just “get” it. I’ll try it in a sentence, maybe: “The Australian put the boomerang in her moot.” This just isn’t working for me. I tried!

Honorable mentions go to Panty Hamster (n/a), Snatch (#21), Coochie Snorcher (n/a), Axe Wound (n/a),  Pootie Tang (#343), Cowhead (n/a), Yoni (#42), The Fiefdom (#689), and the ever-enigmatic Giraffe’s Ear (#842). Couldn’t have done it without you guys.

*Using terms for female (or male) genitals as an insult is a whole other issue that I’ll probably want to delve into another time. Sometimes it bugs me, sometimes it doesn’t.

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