Tonight, I went and saw The Vagina Monologues, as performed by the ladies of the Women's Resource Center. I must say that most of the vaginas reeked. Not like lilacs or fish, as one of the skits implies, but their performance. The Angry Vagina was not so much angry, but more irked, as if she received a mocha latte when she ordered a mocha java. The flood was more like a trickle. The vaginas had a terrible time with pronunciation, and I had difficulties understanding them, otherwise I would try and come up with a witty putdown for all the other vaginas. To be fair, a few of the vaginas were fun and talented, but the majority?
Thanks, but, uh, no thanks.
addendum:
Does your weblog own you?
