Of Snow and Cooch and Sealing Wax
Something I love, I mean loveloveLOVE, is the feeling of lazy winter weekend mornings. When the snow is swirling madly outside but Sean and I are inside in the kitchen, making omelets and muffins and listening to Bob Marley while dancing around in our flannel pajama bottoms (Ok, I dance. Sean raises one eyebrow at me pointedly while I dance around and says: "Yeah?"), I begin to think that New England winters may not kill me, after all.
One of the funniest things I've seen lately occurred at the Baby Shower of my good friend, the lovely and effervescent Paige. It was a Baby Shower of the co-ed nature, meaning that the girls spent much of the shower planning to build a raft and cross the river to get to the boys' side. You just have to be careful the counselors don't catch you or it's potato peeling duty for weeks! But I digress. Co-ed in the sense that there were four men there who could be shamelessly exploited for the amusement of all the women present, which is exactly what happened. I'm not sure whose idea it was (Brilliant! Freaking brilliant!!!) but someone came up with a "game" the boys could play. They were each given a baby bottle filled to the brim with ice-cold apple juice and told to see who could suck it down first. Now, let it be said that I have seen fewer things funnier than a group of four grown men sucking at baby bottles with all their might to a chorus of "Suck! Suck! Suck!" chants. Sean won, of course. I'm a lucky gal.
Another thing that happened at the shower was that I realized, as a friend of Paige's was talking about her friend, that I knew who she was talking about. Not knew him as in "Hey! I know that guy too!" but just kind of "knew" him as in "Hey! I've seen that guy at Pier 1 before!". I voiced that I had, in fact, seen him at Pier 1 before, realizing too late that in doing so I had become one of Those People. I am Creepy. I "know" people who don't know me. I am a Pier 1 Guy Stalker. Now, I have this uncontrollable urge to walk up to said guy and say in a singsong voice: "I know who you are." I shall then flap my arms like a chicken, yell "BUCK BUCK", and run out of the store at top speed. Is that creepy?
I wish my place of employ would employ a "Shave Your Cooch" policy. Not because I have a fondness for the shaved cooch, necessarily, (Not to say that I don't. I mean, who doesn't love a nice shaved cooch?) but more because I tire of having to rid the toilet seat of short n' curlies before I can safely pee. Ladies without bare floors? They could be penalized.
I love those last two lines!!! Read them aloud!!!
I am now thinking to myself, self, would it have been better to use the word "Poontang"? What do you think? Which word is more amusing, "cooch" or "poontang"? Do you have a more amusing word to suggest? If you don't answer, I hope your cooch gets penalized.
Penalize! The cooch!!!!