Cosmo Thirteen: the Va-jay-jay Edition

There was a time when guys treated women with respect. We might sneak a peak at their bazongas, but we didn’t stare at ’em for more than a few minutes, and we would never call ’em hooters or milk wagons or love jugs. And we didn’t call women slags or skanks or sluts, and we didn’t refer to their Holy of Holies as a kebab or a quim or a bearded clam.

Or, God forbid, a va-jay-jay.

No, we called it by its proper name, pussy.

Pussy shows proper respect to a beautiful, wondrous organ. Think about it. A pussy is cute! furry! friendly! Men like to pet, stroke, and cuddle with pussies. (Many women do, too.) You wouldn’t hesitate to bring a pussy home to Mom.

I’m not sure what a va-jay-jay is, but I suspect it stays out too late clubbing, smokes and drinks to excess, has no interest whatsoever in short, bald hobbits, and probably associates with an overabundance of wa-wieners.

In this issue: Rihanna shows off her yellow Versace . . . women in danger . . . five things never to tell your guy . . . and guys masturbate (no, really?)

1. Rihanna looks good in lingerie. Decent voice, too. As usual, (A) I don’t know who the cover model is, and (B) I can’t find any nude photos of her on the ‘tubes. Bathing suit, that’s the best you’ll get. So: what have I learned about Rihanna?

• she is a “man-melting megastar.”
• she dislikes arrogant guys. (“If a guy is hot and he knows it—forget it. I hate arrogance.”) Does that mean humility is one of her turn-ons? I can do humble.
• she thinks nude scenes are “HOTT, depending on the person NINK NINK!!”

Nink, nink?

2. Five MORE secrets to keep from him. What are Cosmo’s five Must Not Tells? Past loves, how you spend your money, how you feel about his family, the fact you still flirt with other men, and what you really think of that gift he gave you.

But we can do better than that. Five things you should never, ever share:

* That carrot he’s munching on so gleefully? Did double time earlier this morning. Who knows, maybe even triple time. You kept meaning to wash it off.

* The truth about those little red sores on his penis. (Excuse me. His suh-sausage.) “It’s just a heat rash, darling, a heat rash. I get them all the time and they always go away eventually!”

* What you think of his family. No man wants to know that his father and his two brothers are all better lovers than he is.

* How you really feel about his proposal for a threesome with your best pal Susan. You and Susie get it on every chance you get, so what would be the point?

* How you really feel about his backup proposal for a threesome with his best pal Mitch. It was a valiant sacrifice on his part — he’s doing it for you, after all. Plus, he figures if he gives you a threesome, you’ll be obligated to give him one, too.

But you were going to dump him next week so that you could hook up with Mitch anyway, so what would be the point?

(Yeah, I know. A bit repetitious . . . but this is the va-jay-jay edition.)

3. So that’s what a man smells like.

Introducing Calvin Klein’s MAN.

Put your nose up to the monitor and sniff. No, don’t be shy, go on! Can you catch the “crisp freshness, exotic spices, and rich woods”?

Hey, I don’t need a fragrance to make me smell like wood. I got plenty of wood.

4. I didn’t know this was a faux pas.

I met this boy at a party, and he seemed to be into me. He asked if he could give me his number and handed me his business card! What’s up with that?

No . . . what’s wrong with that? As “guy guru” Jonathan Small rightly points out, “Seriously, if the dorkiest, cheesiest person in the world has an impressive job, he still might have a shot at a hot woman (ask Donald Trump).”

If I were single, you can bet I’d take advantage of any equalizer I could get. My business card announces I’m a bright guy who can sit through years and years of post-graduate education. I have a stable, well paying career, so I won’t be stealing her cookie jar money. Since I’m an ENT, that means I have intimate knowledge of mucus membranes. (Trust me, all mucus membranes are much the same.)

My business card would also keep situations like this from advancing any farther:

OMIGOD, Doctor Hoffman! I thought I recognized you! You took my tonsils out when I was twelve. My GOD you must be like FORTY BY NOW!

Getting intimate with patients? A guy could lose his license.

5. Life is a movable bitch-fest.

In their feature Bitch It Out, Cosmo gives its readers license to fume:

“Recently, a girl kept glaring at me—I’m talking staring-contest length—because her boyfriend was checking me out. Like it’s my problem he couldn’t keep his eyes on her! When he got up to go to the bathroom, I walked over and told her, “Don’t worry, sweetie, I’d never go for your man. I’m not really into the overweight hairy type.”

Note to my wife: Karen? It’s impolite to stare.

Dealing with a doctor who blows off your concerns? This line lets him or her understand that you won’t be dismissed: “I know you’re serving a lot of patients, but I don’t feel you’re hearing me out when I speak.” Then go over your concerns again. If that approach doesn’t solve the problem, find a new MD. (Kerry Patterson, author of Crucial Conversations.)

Why are people so cowed by their doctors? We’re just human beings! Godlike human beings with preternatural healing and lovemaking powers, admittedly, but we pull our scrubs on one leg at a time. We do! But it seems some people get all deer-in-the-headlights with their docs and come home thinking, “Damn, I forgot to ask him about those long, stringy vermilion boogers.” BRING A CHECKLIST. Jeez.

6. I don’t think the world is ready for green tampons.

First, an aside: if this is the va-jay-jay edition, do we really need another installment of Cosmo Gyno? Because that’s what we have: the va-jay-jay spread (see below) AND Cosmo Gyno. I haven’t had this much pussy since my last six months of college.

This month’s Cosmo Gyno teaches us (1) not all birth control pills are created equal, (2) you, too, can recognize mittelshmerz, and (3) oh, you’ll never believe me. Read it for yourself:

The typical woman tosses out thousands of tampons and pads in her lifetime, adding pounds of paper and plastic that contain harmful dyes and synthetic fibers to landfills. To cut back on contributing to this problem, consider switching to reusable pads designed to be tossed into the washing machine after each use. [my emphasis]

Your husband/boyfriend might object. Remember that old Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup commercial, “You got chocolate on my peanut butter?”

I’ll let you finish the thought.

7. And I thought Prairie Muffins were fashion-impaired.

You, my faithful readers, get to decide who wins this week’s World’s Fugliest Dress award. Is it:
Uma Thurman, for this little number I call, “Don’t Make Fun of Me, Can’t You See I’m in Mourning”?

Or is it Chloe Sevigny, for her creative use of my grandmother’s best shmattas?

Or perhaps Jennifer Connelly, for being kind enough to wear something a seven-year-old would have sewn for a life-sized Barbie Doll?

Be sure to let me know your choice for this prestigious award.

8. Apparently, women like ripped abs.

“Guy Without His Shirt,” a regular feature of Cosmo’s Man Manual, typically features some young goofy-looking dude with waxed chest hair, a six-pack (at a minimum. Eight-packs preferred), and that daring hint of pubes. So: this is what women want? Fine. Here you go. I hope you appreciate my wax job.

True story:

Yesterday, in the gym, I met up with two of my OR nurses. Something inside me flipped and I was showing off, pumping iron. Then: “Punch me in the gut,” I told one. She punched. “No, you’re punching like a girl! PUNCH ME!” She punched again.

I would have kept performing for them, but I think they were getting weirded out. Nevertheless, it was all they could talk about in the OR today.

9. I’ve discovered the secret of Cosmo’s “all new sex tips” feature.

It’s a regular front page feature: Fifteen Ways to Make Him Yours Forever (or as long as you want him!) Nineteen Moves to Bring His Little Man to Attention When You Want Another Go. TWO HUNDRED TRICKS SO NASTY HE’LL BEG TO EAT YOUR TOE JAM!

This week’s 21 Naughty Sex Tricks is the usual collection of the same old, same old. They’re not even numbered, so you can’t really be sure you’re getting 21 tricks; but who cares. I already know that guys dig sexual aggression, new outfits, dirty talk, and the creative use of a rolling pin (to give massages, okay?) But do you want to know what Cosmo does when they get bored of the same old, same old?

They break out the dictionary.

Here, let me show you. I’ll pick a few random nouns and create an All New Hot Sex Tip especially for you. Feel free to try them out and let me know what you think. (Except for you, Sis. I’d rather not know, thanks very much.)

Oasis. Turn your va-jay-jay into a love oasis! Dress up your goods with frisee and radicchio, drizzle with anchovy vinaigrette, and when he comes home hollering for dinner, call him into the bedroom for the first course!

Iguana. Next time he complains that your sex life together has become hum-drum, ask him if he has heard of furries, people who like to dress as animals before, ah, socializing. When he shows an interest, tell him that you’ve thought of something REALLY different: you want to be an iguana! Blindfold him and give him a good rubdown with sandpaper for an experience he won’t soon forget.

Tomato. You’ve heard of bobbing for apples? Try bobbing for cherry tomatoes instead. Begin by placing a cherry tomato into your mouth and ask him to retrieve it using his tongue. Then it’s his turn. When you’re feeling adventurous, take the action south! (You do have two other appropriately sized orifices, you know!)

I’m telling you, Cosmo needs to put me on their payroll.

10. Please, tell me: what is The “Nice” Habit That Can Cost You Your Life?

Hmm. Let me guess first. Helping old ladies across the street? Giving your co-workers friendly little neck massages? Flossing after meals?

No, this one turns out to be Cosmo’s obligate one good article per issue: Fear Can Be Your Friend, by Linda Fairstein. Ms. Fairstein provides advice for women who find themselves in dangerous situations. Shorter version: run away!

11. Okay, Cosmo, I’m with you on this one.

Number 3 of their Ten Ways Not to Test Your Boyfriend’s Love:

Change his ring tone to Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You.”

But I don’t understand the problem with Number 4:

Ask him to give your perfect-10, on-the-rebound, superbuzzed, notoriously promiscuous sorority sister (who’s always secretly hated you) a ride home.

Cosmo thinks I would have sex with a sorority girl? Like, ew.

12. And I used to think my fantasy life was impoverished.

In His Private Pleasure Action (cover story: SEX HE HAS ALONE) (Hey. Wait. Are they talking about wanking? They are! They are talking about wanking!) guys reveal what they think about whilst spanking le singe.

“I sit there and say to myself, I wish that my hand would magically turn into a vagina.”

–Damon, 19

Oh, I shouldn’t laugh. Just the other day, I was thinking pocket pussies should be standard issue built-ins on all mattresses.

“I often think about naked women rolling around in Jell-O. Butterscotch pudding also works. Then I fantasize about licking it off them.”

–Adam, 23

See, Adam, that’s the difference between you and me. You, sir, are a gourmand, while I’m a gourmet. You fantasize about tapioca while I prefer dressing my women in a delicate Sauce Béarnaise.

“When I’m traveling, I always get really horny and masturbate as soon as I check in to a hotel. Something about a new city and a new bed turns me on.”

–Tyler, 34

Tyler, I just got off the phone with the good people at Best Western. They have asked that you wait until you get to your room.

13. Who knew va-jay-jays were so complicated?

No, seriously. Did you know you were supposed to air the thing out? That it’s not a black hole? (Well, duh. It’s pink.) That lube can help prevent infection?

If you’re a guy, everything looks like a vagina.

Did you know that “every chick has a different scent”? Well, I suspected as much, but I wasn’t sure. Hey! When we moved here from San Antonio, Karen promised me that if I ever wanted to engage in some sort of clinical research activity (you know, to satisfy that random craving to Do Science) she wouldn’t stand in my way.

I think I’ve finally found a research topic which could hold my interest.

***

That’s it, folks. I hope you’ve enjoyed the Balls and Walnuts Va-jay-jay Extravaganza. And although it seems somehow odd — well, sticky — to speak of lurve in this context, you know what you need to do to get some o’ mine.

thursday thirteen

Dan bemoans our rude, rude ways

fiveandfour showcases a Sarah Silverman viddy

from microsoar, more bikes for folks who like to look at clouds while they ride

Lyvvie gripes about not being a mesomorph

Go say hi to Kate. Just do it.

You’ll get no Thirteen from Dean!

Check out Pete’s GPS Camera Phone tutorials

Pat encounters fallout from the TV writer’s strike

Darla’s parade pix: oh, those wacky, fun-loving Germans . . .

Shaina’s little friends creeped me out so much, I had to share the picture with you:

Are they deformed rabbits? Ugly beagles? You’ll have to read Shaina’s post to find out.

And don’t miss Corn Dog’s stinky extravaganza