I don’t want to ride ANY disco sticks.

I’m starting to wonder if Facebook knows something about my vagina that I don’t.

But, point of order: No one’s vagina likes disco.

Annual reminder I’m not getting laid

Gynecologist: “Any pain during sex?”

Me: “Hahahaha, it’s very sweet of you to assume I have any current data on that.”

NO.

In case of emergency, follow the arrows.

This sweater is designed to let everyone know EXACTLY where my vagina is.

Ix-nay on the “vajayjay”

Right, so… I’m really gonna need one of you to come kill me..

I feel attacked.

“My Friend Dahmer.”

…Gentlemen, please form an orderly queue.

Vagina burrrn (in a GOOD way!)

Via Sex with Timaree:

I know the difference but still say “vagina” because I am a popular-use conformist. But I love that a dictionary site chimed in to correct this dude.

Also, not just that he corrected a woman, and a gynecologist, but he also went and corrected…The Guardian? Ballsy choice, sir. A ballsy choice about vaginas.

(The whole thing is funny if you have a few minutes to kill.)

My pH is as imbalanced as my brain.

So…this is WAY more than anyone needs to know, but frankly I blame the most recent episode of Crazy Ex Girlfriend for my sudden freedom… 

I often get frustrated because my body doesn’t just tell me what it needs, like maybe I don’t even HAVE depression, maybe I just need vitamin D or iron or something. I’d like a little alert system, is all.

But damn — you can always count on your vagina to let you KNOW when some shit is up. When you go to apee and think, “What the HELL is that smell?!” That is your lady garden, girl, and you are dehydrated as fuck. Maybe also pop some preemptive probiotics, because that’s definitely not ideal.

#GetLubedUpForDemocracy

I took tomorrow off to vote, and to get my annual gyno exam.

There’s a joke here somewhere… Hopefully not in my vagina.

I wasn’t ready!

Y’all.

I am JUST in my regular doctor’s office, trying to get my sinuses un-fucked.

I wasn’t ready.