Warning to my male readers: unless your wife has had a baby, or you’ve actually, in some bizarre turn of events, found yourself in stirrups, you have no idea what in the hell a stirrup cozy is. Prepare to be schooled.

I had an appointment with the wookie doctor this morning.

While waiting for my turn, I couldn’t help but notice an often overlooked, but very important part of the gynecological exam table–the stirrup cozy. My doctor has cheerful little hand-knit ones on there. It’s a strange thing, the stirrup cozy. I’ve seen all sorts of them–sometimes they’re just sweat socks stuck over the stirrups, sometimes little felt booties with the name of a birth control pill printed on them, and sometimes there’s nothing at all, but I’ve never seen hand-knit ones before! Who makes them? Are little old ladies in nursing homes making them and sending them in, or did my doctor make them himself? After a day of delivering babies and diagnosing genital herpes, I imagine that he likes to go home, kick back, and do a little knitting while Dancing with the Stars is on. The thing about these little cuties is that they make the whole trip so much more comfortable. You’re totally naked under a paper dress in a fifty degree room. A man with the largest hands you’ve ever seen comes in, snaps on his rubber gloves, busts out the lube, and says “scoot forward a little bit for me, dear.” It goes without saying that this is the most uncomfortable situation, but thank Jesus my feet are comfy in the stirrups! This is delightful! Can I come again tomorrow?

This is what I’m thinking while waiting for him to come in. It makes me giggle to picture him in his jammies, knitting away, perhaps enjoying a nice cup of tea as well. Needless to say, when he finally comes into the room I’m in a rather jovial mood. We had a pleasant visit, I felt properly violated, and I came home to mop off.

Let’s all take a moment to say thank Jesus for the stirrup cozy. I don’t know about yours, but my vagina is happier knowing my feet are comfortable.

I don’t know what makes me love you so.
Is it your shape or your milky glow?
I do not know.
I love you in your festive garb,
even though you’re not low carb.
When I put you to my chin, I grin.
When I lick your silky skin, I begin
to shiver with anticipation.
My teeth, your tender flesh will crush
and soon there will be a rush
of wonderful white liquid gush
that I will lick from my lips.
(It will forever sit on my hips.)
When I taste your sweetness I will sigh
and feel a drip roll down my thigh–
your flavor makes me high.
In a moment, I’ll have consumed you
and our time together will be through.
But I can do this all the night
more orbs of delight are in my sight!
If loving balls is wrong, I don’t want to be right.

-An Ode to Lindt White Chocolate Truffles
by Fanny

Everyone, Fanny. Fanny, this is everyone.

Fanny is the demonic fat girl who lives inside me. She used to live inside my friend Lynne, but she got bored and migrated to me. She’s been with me for about 6 weeks now and the bitch made me gain 4lbs.

This is a picture of Fanny and Lynne together this past Halloween. Fanny isn’t wearing a costume.

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She makes me do bad things. She hates it when I do yoga, pilates, or yogilates. Exercise of any kind angers her and she punishes me by making me eat chocolates. She fucking hates salad. She makes me eat cake instead. Whenever I eat my Kashi fiber cereal, she forces me to put sugar on it. I’d go on, but you get the idea. She’s the epitome of evil.

Christmas is Fanny’s favorite time of year. Right now the break room table at work contains an enormous array of treats falling under the following categories: salty shit, nutty shit, dried shit, shit covered in chocolate, dried shit covered in chocolate, shit in the form of logs and balls, shit with cheese, shit that thinks it’s cheese but isn’t, and shit with Rachel Ray’s picture on the box. Fanny loves it all and laughs her diabolical laugh every time I go near that room of horrors.

I need an exorcist or something. I tried calling The Ghost Whisperer, but then I saw on Entertainment Tonight that Jennifer Love Hewitt is having her own big butt issues. I don’t think she’ll be returning my call. And Buffy is retired…

Any suggestions as to how I can fix my little situation would be appreciated. In the meantime, as a temporary solution, every time I think about going into the break room I’m going to bash myself in the face with the nearest heavy object.

She is everywhere I am. I drive down 95, she’s there. I turn on my TV, she’s there. I go to Wal-Mart, she’s there.  I have a romantic dinner out with my husband, and you guessed it, she’s there. 

It was our 5th wedding anniversary and we actually went out on a real date! We got dressed up in our nicest outfits. I did the smoky eye, sheer lip and heavily sprayed up-do (I was very careful to stay away from candles), and we drove 53 minutes to the place where we got married. We sat in the room where our reception was held. We ordered what we ate on our wedding day, etc.  It was a lot of fun. 

To commemorate the event, we visited the gift shop to see if there was some sort of trinket to bring home with us.  Well, we didn’t find anything, but right there, where I least expected to see her, there she was on a bottle of EVOO.  

She’s everywhere people, and she’s out for world domination.

Be afraid.

What kind of a pathetic loser actually takes her camera to Wal-Mart?

Me. I do. I am such a loser.

Those of you who plan to stay out of the stores this shopping season are really missing out on some truly unique gift giving opportunities. Let’s stroll down the gift aisle shall we? Click on the pictures to see these products in all their glory. Really, I don’t even have to comment (even though I will anyway).

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Heiress by Paris Hilton. Wow. I’m guessing that this is the closest she’s ever come to actually being inside a Wal-Mart store. What does an heiress smell like anyway? A twat full of money?

What?

Who said that?

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An Arch of Beauty. An Arch? Of beauty? I think it’s safe to assume that this set will deliver anything BUT Beauty. Perhaps what it does promise is an emergency trip to the dermatologist.

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His Sexiest Musks. As if men weren’t musky enough, here’s an interesting trio of fragrances: Armpit, Taint, and the ever-popular Balls.

Bod Man. According to the packaging, if you wear this cologne, chicks will “want your bod”. Uh huh. Guys out there, listen up. If you have trouble getting a little action, you’ve apparently been wearing the wrong fragrance. This is the stuff you need to have all the fly girlies on your jammie.

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A camouflage grooming kit. Ideal for the hunter who likes to look his best while slaughtering innocent fuzzy woodland creatures.

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A reindeer that shits jellybeans. There are no words…

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Nothing says “White Trash” quite like a commemorative Elvis Pez dispenser. Actually, three says it even better.

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Here’s our girl! Entertain today the Rachel way…by slipping a little cocaine into the artichoke dip.

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Ahhhh…I just love a good hot cock in the morning! Maybe if I had one of these bad boys, the people at work would quit stealing my cup.

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This is actually kind of cute and I wouldn’t puke if someone gave it to me, but does anyone ever actually use these things?

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Meats and cheeses requiring no refrigeration whatsoever. Scares the bejeezus out of me. And, wait, does that say Ham-A-Rama on the price tag in the corner?

Huhuhuhuhuh……

These were only a few of the fantastic things I saw on my shopping adventure. I’m usually a Target kind of girl, but I found myself at Wal-Mart instead because I decided to go slumming.

I’m so glad I did!

Now you all know what you’re getting for Christmas! I don’t even have to wrap it!