1. My vagina is not a very good decision-maker. It should not be placed in charge of important matters. I don’t know why my brain so often seems to elect it President of My Body.
2. No, that’s not entirely true. It runs one hell of an effective campaign.
3. It has also, in the past couple of years, taken on the distinct tartness and tangy flavor associated with the fruit from whence my screen name derives, and I think that’s just marvelous. Sadly, I will not be able to set up a table at Costco and offer samples to a curious public. We are not sufficiently evolved as a society to hold supermarket pussy-tastings.
4. Now I’m imagining a private event styled after a wine tasting, but instead of wine it would offer a selection of high-grade snatch: a dozen women volunteers, nude from the waist down, comfortably ensconced in recliners outfitted with stirrups, arranged in a line along an elevated platform. Tasters would be able to read about the regions where the women live and their diets/lifestyles, along with associated flavor notes on a little placard next to each chair. A classy piano concerto would be playing softly in the background. And there would be absolutely no need for spit cups. (Some day they’re going to confiscate my brain. I do such ridiculous things with it.)
5. I always seem to go into heat in late summer. I know I’ve been particularly obnoxious lately, and I really do thank you guys for sticking around and enduring the strain from rolling your eyes at my posts. You are a generous lot.