Let me preface this by telling you that my life is filled with creative adventures… Some of these adventures are real and fruition into actual stories that I can easily reenact using my advanced skills in sarcasm and imagery, and there are some that I really just wish would happen the way that I see them in my head… Either way there is truth to all of my stories, and it’s up to you to decide which parts of these stories you would like to believe. My one promise to you is that you will NOT get bored.
Now let’s get started on our first adventure together…
I’d like to introduce you to my new found muse, Maggie. Maggie is the name that I will use to represent a middle aged woman whose very ‘hard’ lifestyle left her skin about as pink as a slightly undercooked tenderloin and as rough as an old pair of Nike’s that had just gone through it’s final wash after a year’s worth of hiking up the steep side of Runyon Canyon. Maggie’s face was quite worn down and had enough freckles to depict several constellations, and at least a few missing teeth. As my eyes surveyed Maggie I noticed a battered up handbag, flip flops, and an old unwashed sundress almost fully exposing two unsupported loaves of bread hanging down from her chest and resting slightly above her bellybutton. When Maggie speaks, you aren’t sure if she is going to ask you what your favorite scary movie is, or tell you that she is in fact… your father. Now that I’ve described Maggie in great detail, I think you are starting to get the picture of what I am witnessing.
Maggie will play a very important role in this story once I fill you in on a discussion that my boyfriend and I were having the night prior to meeting Maggie while we were watching Season 3 of The Real Housewives of New York. So as we were watching this show quite possibly the most loathed Housewife of all time, ‘The Countess LuAnn’, was utilizing the word ‘VaJayJay’ to describe her womanly parts as she was discussing with one of my all time favorite housewives Sonja Morgan how she likes to keep her hair down there (I’ve always just assumed that LuAnn would have a nice full bush, it just seems fitting). It was at this moment that my boyfriend paused the show with a mischievous look on his face and asked me the funniest word I had ever heard used to describe the female vagina. We looked at each other, and he instantly thought of the word: cooter. I won’t bore you with the details that followed like discussing sex toy name ideas (cooter-scooter to be one of them), but I will tell you that I was challenged with the task of figuring out a way to utilize the word ‘cooter’ in a sentence the following day. This was my challenge, and I did accept.
So here it is around lunchtime the next day, and I decided to take a gander at some fragrances in a nearby retail store (I’m always thinking of ways to bring more attention to myself) and thought that this would do the trick! As I approach the fragrance section, I can hear a faint beeping noise… I look up and this is where I see ‘Maggie’. Mind you, Maggie is being accosted by a rather terrified looking security guard. I can see the security guard cautiously looking in Maggie’s bag trying to discover where this beeping noise is coming from without successfully locating the source. Maggie then stands up nice and tall (at which time I can no longer hear the beeping), and she proceeds to tell the security guard that she doesn’t have “ANYTHING ON HER… NOTHING!”… To prove her point, she even decides to bust out the bread loaves at which time my eyes discover where she safely tucks away a package of Marlboro reds, an orange lighter, a bottle of pills, and what looked like a few packets of ketchup. All very practical things to store in between two loaves of bread, I suppose.
Fast forward 20 seconds, and I can hear the faint beeping noise once more… Maggie swears that it is not coming from her and she attempts to leave the store. As she is attempting to leave, Maggie tries to pull her bag out of the guards hands. This is when it happens… In a desperate attempt to get away from the guard, Maggie steps a little too wide, and it becomes clear where the beeping was coming from. The almost painful screech and blinding red light from the security tag can now be traced dropping out of her as though she had let out a little turdlette and shaken it down her leg. Maggie had somehow managed to wedge a 3.4 ounce bottle of Calvin Klein ‘Obsession’ up into her and held onto it as though she had vacuum suction coming from somewhere deep within. The force was strong, but it was not enough to keep this ‘obsession’ high and tight for long.
This is when it hit me… What if that bottle of Calvin Klein fragrance had actually been a slightly longer and slimmer box of 3.4 ounce Juicy Couture. Did I miss my chance to use cooter in it’s most appropriate context that day? Or, had I actually been given the ability to modify the truth and pitch an ever so slightly risqué marketing idea to the creative director of the fragrance empire?
What do you think? Is it possible that ‘cooter’ is the new ‘couture’?