So there I was, 30 minutes early to the theater with my nieces, and nephew, innocently mixing M&M’s into the popcorn, and waiting for the last Harry Potter movie to finally begin when this happened:
I guess we should be grateful they decided not to go with, “Hail to The Stinky Bearded Clam!”
Truth be told, I’ll admit that I have for some time suspected that my vagina may indeed be both the epicenter of civilization and most powerful force on earth–which is undoubtedly why weird ninja guys keep following me around.
I’m glad you’re here, Summer’s Eve, to remind me to treat my cooch with the respect it deserves–which means making it smell like the potpourri aisle in Target. Thanks for bringing your message to my 13 year old niece. She better get busy squirting synthetic chemicals often containing hormone disrupting phthalates up there.
Maybe we should invest in a power washer?
Hey, have you got any products in your line that make a penis smell like a fruit salad?
Suck it, Summer’s Eve.
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