I was writing something about Rosie O’Donnell and instead of boring you with the particulars of why I’ll skip ahead to the part where I describe her vagina as a giant steaming mess.
I actually pictured it steaming. And bubbling. Like those mud pots in Yellowstone.
The funnier thing is, if you don’t already think the visual of Rosie O’Donnell’s cooch looking like a bubbling mud pit then you can read the beginning of this sentence as “The funny thing is,” that I was actually imagining Rosie O’Donnell’s vag.
Really. I was trying to imagine just what smelly horrors lurk between those meaty thighs.
Wouldn’t it be funny if she had a great-looking vagina? The kind of vagina that I assume Yvonne Strahovski owns. Perfect in every way.
What if Yvonne Strahovski has a giant steaming mess?
You can see the problem with clothing. While I can talk with complete certainty about the giant square head sitting atop Rosie’s shoulders, I can only speculate as to what her cooch looks like.
I guess this would be a good time to tell you that I was just forced to add the word “cooch” to my Word dictionary because I got sick of all the red underlines messing up my otherwise white page. See the things I do for you? This computer will forever have a reminder of this story stuck in its memory. I could have just said vagina or vag but I thought you deserved the very best and there are just some sentences that need a cooch in them.
But I digress.
I might be insensitive but don’t get nervous about me launching into a detailed list of what characteristics might make a vagina a giant steaming mess. For all I know one of my readers might possess a few of these traits and I certainly don’t want her (or him, if Chaz Bono happens to get a hold of this) to walk away from this story feeling bad about herself. Not since she was nice enough to be reading this in the first place.
Let’s just say you could reverse-engineer what constitutes a giant steaming mess by closing your eyes and picturing Rosie O’Donnell’s vaginal area.
You pictured a mud pot didn’t you?
I think that’s a safe bet. I think if she had an attractive vagina she would have “accidently” allowed a paparazzo to take a quick pic of her sans panties and climbing out of a limo like our pal Britney Spears did some years back. Although that didn’t quite pan out for Britney … I’m still not sure what I was looking at. Was that a caesarean section scar?
Let me also note that I didn’t know how to spell Britney. After three failed attempts I was forced to Google her. I’m proud of that but I’m not sure why. What’s I’m not proud of is that once Googling I couldn’t stop myself from trying to find that picture of her cooch. Which I did.
What I couldn’t find was a picture of Yvonne Strahovski naked but let me tell you, I tried. And tried. What I did find was a few shots from her appearance on Dexter that did the job.
And what job was that?
I’ll spare you the details; suffice to say that every time I got close to finishing that job I would quickly picture Rosie’s bubbling mud pot and that allowed me to continue working for a little while longer.
I know that there is a saying “show me a beautiful woman and I’ll show you a man who is sick of fucking her,” but in the case of Ms. Strahovski I think she might be the exception. As long as we are using Yellowstone metaphors I might as well go ahead and add that I would hit that with a regularity that would make Old Faithful look positively inconsistent.
And speaking of inconsistent, you might have noticed that this story has been a bit erratic but in my defense I pictured Rosie O’Donnell’s vagina once and I’ll be damned if I’m going to revisit this story to revise or edit it. One time is more than enough and I’ll bet you haven’t read anything lately where the author was forced to picture anything quite as revolting on your behalf so just be happy that I was willing to take one for the team and quit your whining.
To be clear, I’m not saying that I just pictured it in my head … I actually pictured it in my head and I’m fairly certain that I will wake up screaming every few months until I die because it’s not the kind of thing you can just put behind you.
Not only how it looked but what it was capable of producing. I’m betting it could squeeze out a hippopotamus without breaking a sweat. I was just going to shorten it to hippo but I don’t think that had enough letters in it to truly capture what I was going for. She truly has a vag that could push out all twelve letters of hippopotamus and then some.
So what was it I was writing about Rosie that started this whole dumb ball rolling?
Something about the price some people are willing to pay to attain celebrity. That led to thinking about the woman who was willing to marry Rosie. That led to thinking about…