Goddamn! Vagina has become ubiquitous. The air is electric with vagina sweat! Women write about their vaginas these days, this is what we do. I’m from the sticks and only have sixty accredited hours because I never could decide on a major and men and wine coolers got in the way. I write about pussy and cunt. Some women are from better places and plus they are smarter and more elegant than I will ever be and plus they are oozing MFA ambition, shaking that hot MFA ass all over Iowa and Brooklyn and Boston. They write about…vagina. Pussy. Cunt. Vagina. Box. Snatch. Same song, same goddamn chord. Boy editors pant and drool, send e-mail saying shit like,”Oh my god! You’re a genius! That’s what you are! So cutting edge, so full of fire! Baby you’re a regular volcano!” So much vagina to choose from. It can become problematic. I don’t know about other bitches but the trouble with this bitch is I like to think my vagina is the only one. My vagina is the only vagina I want to read about. I’ve got the most brilliant vagina since Anais Nin. All other vaginas better get the fuck out of the way when my vagina hits the Lite Brite disco floor! Shit’s gettin’ serious! I’m talkin’ MULTIPLE ORGASMS, motherfucker! You want it poetic, haul ass next door to Rosalita’s Roses Y Mas. My middle name is Velvet. Let me show you why!

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