2 Birds Investigates: My New Pink Button™

The subject of today's blog investigation came up when Tulane Chris was in town a few months ago and we were driving around, shootin' the shit. We somehow gots-to-talking about asshole bleaching, like you do, and from there I asked Chris if he'd heard of the new vaginal craze, vajazzling.

For those of you not in the know, Vajazzling is a new trend (fronted by Jennifer Love Hewitt) (because Lord knows girlfriend's gotta keep her name relevant somehow) where a spa technician waxes your vagina and adheres jewels in various patterns to spice up your sex life. Personally, I don't get the appeal of vajazzling. Not only do I not want my vagina to look like a 13-year-old Asian girl's cell phone, I can't imagine having Krazy Glue applied to my freshly waxed vagina. If that's not a recipe for ingrown hairs and rug rash, I really don't know what is.

But according to Chris, vajazzling is so early 2010. Apparently it's all about vaginal dying.

M: Vaginal what now?

TC: Vaginal dying. Apparently women get self-conscious about the color of their labia, so they sell this dye online to make it pink again. I think it's called My New Pink Button™?

M: .........UH, ARE YOU THINKING WHAT I'M THINKING?

TC: We're going to dye your vagina and blog about it, aren't we?

M: AND HOW!

Before we go any further with this, I'd like to issue an official statement: The color of my vagina is just fine, a-thank you. Truthfully before this conversation, I'd never really given much thought about its color at all. I mean, I'm already self-conscious about about 98% of my body, do I really have to add labia color into that mix? Christ, there are only so many hours in the day...

According to My New Pink Button™:

Occasionally a woman is self conscious of her Labia since childhood. A common concern amongst women about their Labia Minora (inside vaginal lips) and general area, is the color loss and color change due to age, health and many other factors. When the question is put to the female population, about what color is most appealing to the eye, for their Labia Minora, the answer is "Pink". This is also the majority of the response amongst males for what is aesthetically appealing to the eye of their sexual partner.

I mean, I suppose we've all seen porn with lady bits that have seen better days, so I guess I buy that. I just have a hard time accepting that guys give a shit how pink your puss is. I mean, you made it in there, so...you're welcome. Is there really a need to break out a Pantone swatch and see how I measure up? Besides, who's fuckin' with the lights on? That's for porn stars and atheists. And if you're going down on a girl, I can't help but think you knew what you were getting yourself into. I believe Helena said it best tonight when she said, "Going down on a girl is like going to North Korea."

Really Helena, how is that? I think we'd all love to hear the end of this one.

"Well, you're flying in and everything looks really pretty from the window and there are rice paddies everywhere and it looks like a beautiful, charming country. But then you land and you're like, 'Well shit, now I'm stuck in a fucking dictatorship.' In the end, I'd just rather go to France, you know?"

...No. No, I do not. But I do know that I now aspire to be in a production of The Vagina Monologues where I recite slam poetry about my vagina, including the line: "My vagina is a North Korean dictatorship: bold, dangerous, volatile, and highly susceptible to ex-American presidents."

Whether or not anyone really gives a shit about the color of your labia, Chris and I were curious to see if MNPB™ actually makes your snatch pinker. The product comes in four colors: Marilyn; Bettie; Ginger and Audrey, ranging from lightest to darkest, respectively. Of course on the day Chris and I went to order, they only had Audrey.

TC: Ok, let's order.

M: Uh, no. They only have Audrey.

TC: So?

M: So it's made for black women and I'm the palest person on the planet. I'm not dying my vagina dark maroon.

TC: Why not? It's not like anyone's going to see it.

M: Well...................YEAH, but...still. Asshole.

In the end, I decided to put my vagina down and wait until a lighter shade came back in stock. A few weeks later, Bettie was in and I bought it for $29.95, plus free shipping and handling. We conducted the Investigation a few weeks ago when I was in Philly working on business stuff with Chris. And you know what? I'd like to think we're doing something right when "dying Meg's vagina" is an important part of our Weekend of Productivity. Right? Good for us!

2 Birds Investigates: My New Pink Button™

By: Meg "I don't think you should eat that" McBlogger and Chris " Well then maybe you shouldn't spread it on your pussy" Blogger-Blog.

My New Pink Button™ contains: iron oxide, citric acid, pink kaolin clay, red 40, lechithin, ascorbic acid, red 40 lake, daucus carota satiba, ceresin, beet juice extract, manganese violet, calcium phosphate, maltodextrin, bha, poly peg, rose hip, ethylhexyl palmitate, tricaprylin, modified corn startch, chamomile, safron, blue #1, turmeric, blue #2, fruit juice concentrates including: pomegranate-cherry-apricot-grape-strawberry-blackberry-raspberry-passion fruit, lavaneula angustifolia, magnesium spearate, malic acid, sodium citrate, titanium dioxide, zinc, yellow #5, yellow #6, yellow #5 lake, myrrh, and salt.

The bottom of the tin bears the slogan: "Our products are never tested on animals, but will bring out the animal in you!"

Chris has feelings about the ingredients. He would like to make you aware of the following:

1. ) Iron Oxide is what makes Mars red.

2.) Apparently the only thing Chris retained from 9th grade Chemistry is that manganese turns a beautiful color when mixed with water, or quote, "something. I don't really remember, but it was pretty." Little did freshman Chris know that 10 years later, his business partner would be spread eagle on his air mattress in Philadelphia with a hand mirror applying it with an eye shadow applicator to her pussy. The more you know.

3.) It has chamomile to gently lull your snizz to sleep.

4.) "There's just a lot of herbs and spices in this. It's just very Colonel Sanders."

5.) "You know how kids' breakfast cereals are always like, 'five magical fruit flavors!'?" Yeah? "Well your pussy has eight."

6.) When Chris was a wee little Chrislet in middle school, the rumor was that yellow #5 shrank your balls. Much to Chris' dismay, this rumor prevented him from drinking his favorite Surge soft drink because he was afraid the other kids would make fun of him for his little balls. This story is consistently never not the funniest thing I've ever heard. Because I have this glorious mental image of baby Chrislet standing in front of a Fruitopia vending machine, with his head hung in disappointment and both hands covering his groin. Just makes you want to get a Delorean and gun it to 88, doesn't it?

7.) It has myrrh, as in gold, frankincense and. PUSSY DYE: coming soon to a nativity scene near you!

8.) Salt. And pepper to taste?

The kit contains: a vile, not unlike the one you buy crack cocaine in; a mini shot glass and 20 pre-scented eyeshadow applicators.

Suggested use: My New Button™ Cosmetic Labia Dye, is intended for use on the Labia Minora as a "Color Restorer". Variations of color when applied, will depend on many factors including your current natural color, ethnicity, body PH, bathing frequency etc. One application will usually last 72 plus hours. You may reapply the color as needed. This is an Adult Novelty Cosmetic product and its use is to promote beauty of a woman's genital area by restoring natural color.

Directions:

1.) Open package and take out Mixing Dish, one Applicator and the Powder Dye Colorant Bottle. To prevent dye from touching counter surface, place product on a washcloth or tissue.

Take the Cooter Dye out of the case and crack open two Yuenglings. If you're running low on paper towels, use the one you drained your bacon on this morning.

2.) Put a little "shake" of the Powder Dye in the Mixing Dish; place cap back on bottle. Be sure to never get any moisture in the Powder Dye Bottle.

Put a little "shake" of the Powder Dye onto your moistened fingertip and apply it directly to your tongue.

As your writing partner squeals in disgust and shouts, "CHRIS I DON'T THINK YOU SHOULD DO THAT. CHRIS I DON'T THINK YOU SHOULD DO THAT," like a condescending metronome, note how much it tastes like childhood favorite, "Fun Dip."

This raises the following two questions:

1.) In a blind taste test, could Chris tell Snizz Dye from his beloved Crystal Lite?

2.) Does this make your pussy explode with eight delicious fruit flavors? Much like Crystal Lite? We honestly didn't think to have Chris go down on Meg to see. Although, as Chris just said, "If there's two people who could have businesslike oral sex, I think it would be us during a 2 Birds Investigation." (Side note: I'm sorry to break the fourth wall, but it's important to me that you know Chris and I are currently on the phone writing this and he's significantly drunker than I thought he was when this conversation began. He just cackled for a solid 20 seconds and squeaked: "Oh man, I have this mental image of me going down on you, looking up and shouting, 'Hey! It's not like I'm getting union wages down here!'" ...Jesus Christ.)

3.) Take the Applicator and hold it under running water for one second. This will allow just the right amount of water to fill the Applicator Tip.

4.) Now, take the Applicator Tip and mix it in with the Powder Dye in the Mixing Dish so that the Applicator soaks up the color. You are ready to apply.

At this point, Meg retreated behind closed doors to have her "special pinkening time" on Chris' air mattress.

Beave to the wind, she straddled her makeup mirror and went a-paintin'. If a curious plumber was to come by and make the day interesting, now was the time.

While Chris was banished to the living room to play Bejeweled on Meg's phone because it's not 2006 and they weren't on Abigail Breslin's brother's make out couch, he occasionally checked in with her.

TC: You pinkening?

M: I'm pinkening!

[Goes back to playing Bejeweled. Moments later,] M: Ow. OW! It burns like a tiny Hindenburg!

It should be said that according to the instructions, "for some, a slight 'irritating' feeling may occur at application and lasts for about a minute. This is due to the ingredients reacting to your own bodies [sic] PH balance, which is normal and will go away upon rinsing off colorant."

That is unless you don't rinse it off, opting instead to take a paper towel (not the bacon paper towel), hold it under the bathtub faucet by one of the corners (unaware that it is on the hottest setting) and proceed to scrub your womanhood with it. Which, in case you were wondering, will feel like 10,000 moderately sized bees stinging your Gloria Steinem. To put that fire out, you will need to throw all modesty (and your stretch pants) to the wind, get in the shower, squat down and rinse under cold water like a scared teenager after a round of prom night "just the tip".

Refreshed, say this to your writing partner: "It burned around the opening to that which is Meg. Let me put it on your back."

"OK. Do you think this will make the readers like me?"

"It certainly couldn't hurt."

Pretend you own and operate a crappy spa by playing soothing rain sounds on your iPod for ambiance and paint "DEATH BEFORE DISHONOUR" on your writing partner's back with the snizz paint. Note the commonwealth U spelling:

Relax by the rain sounds face down on the floor. Let the pussy dye soak in as you listen to your writing partner straddle her makeup mirror and disappointingly say, "I think I have third-degree burns and it didn't even make a difference."

After a good 10 or 15 minutes, have your writing partner wipe the dye off (with the bacon paper towel) and be disappointed when it doesn't even leave a trace. Chalk this up to a learning (and burning) experience (that was Chris' joke, not mine) and mix yourself another pitcher of Crystal Lite.

Final Summation: My New Pink Button™: not worth it. Turning off the lights or getting vajazzled to draw the eye away from your graying, lackluster Labia Minora: worth it. Crystal Lite: totally the new Jäger.

FIN!

Queer Abby: Labor Day Edition!

More Sexy Labor Day Comments

(Damnit, did I remember to put "animated erotic MySpace gifs" on my Official List of Interests? Because if not, I know what someone's doing when they finish writing this pooooossstttt!) Happy Labor Day, everyone! Even though it's a holiday, I feel shitty not posting because we kind of dropped the ball last week. Thus, this week's Queer Abby will run on time, as scheduled today. DAMN YOU, JEWISH AND CATHOLIC BACKGROUND. Guilt. Guilt everywhere. Although I wouldn't celebrate too soon if I were you, because I am going to take advantage of today's small audience by preluding Queer Abby with two period stories. So, Happy Graphic Tuesday, everyone. Happy Graphic Tuesday.

1.) So, yes, I started raggin' today, as you do (and on the Lord's day!), and I have bad cramps, which isn't very typical for me. Unfortunately, taking care of those cramps is almost impossible for two reasons: 1.) Over-the-counter pain relievers make you puffy, and puffiness would completely mitigate the effects of the organic, holistic and very spiritual diet Tulane Chris and I recently put ourselves on (Klonopin, cocaine and ice water until you're camera ready) so nuts to that; and 2.) I'm dangerously low on money again, so I can't just skip out to CVS and buy a heating pad like it's Mardi Gras.

I was laying in bed this morning feeling like crap when I remembered that my laptop gets absurdly hot when it's charging. Thus, I went ahead and made the medical decision to spend the majority of today laying in bed with my laptop resting directly on top of my major reproductive organs. Although affective (and how!), I started getting nervous a few hours ago that my laptop might be emitting radiation or something, so perhaps putting it directly over my ovaries was a "poor decision". So what was my solution? Pulling my t-shirt down to act as a barrier. Which means that for a solid two hours, I honestly thought that in the battle of radiation waves v. t-shirt, t-shirt would win. I find myself saying this more and more, but I swear to god I'm actually an intelligent human being.

2.) UGHHHHHH. I bought a big variety pack of the wrong kind of tampons last month (Tampex instead of Tampex Pearl Plastic) and now I have to be "fiscally responsible" and "use them" because I'm "poor" and life is "hard". I refuse to take the blame for this one, however, because if tampon companies cracked the code that women don't like shoving compacted dry cotton and particle board up their snatches 25% of every month and they mastered the technology to make that a non-issue, why do they continue to sell the old, fork-up-the-snizz model? What old woman is sitting there in the Bible Belt like, "Oh, you can keep your newfangled, plastic Devil tampons, thank you. I much prefer the ones that kind of disintegrate halfway through putting them in because Christ had to suffer too."? Assholes.

And that concludes this week's ~*VaGiNa TaLk WiTh MeG!!!*~ (Except, not really. I talk about vaginas later. Sorry about that. HAPPY LABOR DAY!)

Dear Queer Abby,

I'm from a small town, and so when a bunch of my friends and I went off to the same big college last year, we stayed close. I'd always been friends-only with most of the guys until that point, but breaking up with my longtime boyfriend started to change that. Recently, I've been hooking up with one of those guy friends on a slightly-less-than-semi-regular, drunk only basis. We also drunk texted on nights when we weren't partying together. There were no commitments or declarations - neither of us are interested in dating or anything else - and we never went very far, but last night that changed. The problem is that I didn't enjoy anything we did... Enough to the point that I'm not interested in repeated it AT ALL. And it wasn't just a flop night or anything, going further just made me realize that I'm a lot less interested in him than I thought I was. My question is: how can I end this/avoid it ever happening again? I'm both awkward and shy and I don't want to come off sounding like an asshole, plus I prefer to avoid confrontation at all costs. I don't want to lose this guy as afriend - we've known each other forever and he's always been a great friend, plus he's roommates with my roommate's boyfriend so I'll definitely be seeing him on a fairly regular basis, and I have NO IDEA what to do. Please help!!!

Sincerely,

Starting to Feel Regretful...

There really aren’t a lot of great ways to deal with a situation. I mean, it’s going to be awkward no matter what, BUT, assuming he’s generally level-headed, it can definitely work out so you guys can remain friends as long as you handle this with a little finesse.

I’m a fierce advocate of honesty, but telling him, ‘listen, that was a mistake… and I don’t want to make it again’ isn’t necessarily what he wants hear, even if it is the truth. However, I am of the mindset that you can still be honest in this situation without saying a word, as long as you’re not leading him on, being a tease or hooking up with him just to avoid the awkward. Basically, if you want to stay (just) friends with him, then simply start acting that way… you didn’t have to have ‘a discussion’ before you started messing around right? I’m guessing you just kind of did it. No reason that can’t work the opposite way.

So, for now, just keep hanging out with him as it’s called for. Be friendly, considerate, etc. but don’t get yourself in a situation where that can happen again. Make sure, even if your roommate stays over there, you go home at the end of the night; don’t hang out with him alone, especially while drinking; don’t entertain his advances; don’t sit too close, suggest other girls he might be interested in, etc etc. If someone continues to persist, despite unambiguous signs that you’re not interested, well that’s their own fault, and they’re inviting that really awkward pride-crushing conversation, but hopefully that won’t be the case here…. And in the event he asks directly about what happened or why things changed, then you owe it to him to at least be as honest and direct as saying, “I just decided/realized that’s really not the kind of relationship I want to have with you,” and then chalk it up to a experiential-lesson in the value in avoiding these uncomfortable situations in the first place. Hopefully, it won’t to come to that though.

OR you could turn the tables and ask him to do some really fucked up shit in bed so he'll be stuck with the burden of finding a non-confrontational, friendship-preserving way to break it off, not you. Here! I'll even get you started! You could ask him to:

- Pee on you

- Let you pee on him

- Poop on you

- Let you poop on him

- Film yourselves fucking in Nazi uniforms with the Spice Girls' "Something Kind of Funny" on repeat in the background

- Dry hump in mascot uniforms

- Pony Play

- Call you "Professor McGonagall" upon climax

- Marry you, so you can finally have sex

- Fuck to the beat of "Janie's Got a Gun"

Now, true, you kind of run the risk of him being into whatever you end up asking him to do, but in that case, just act really disgusted, tell him you were joking, run out of the room and forgive him a few days later. Not only will he respect you for being able to get over it, he'll be too embarrassed to ever hook up with you again. Truthfully, that might be even better. God I'm good at this. This shit should be syndicated.

Queer Abby,

A little backstory - I've had a teenage-girl-like crush on a distant friend for about a year. I met him at school, and he graduated about two years ago, but still lives nearby. He's actually not so much my friend, as my friend's friend. I've never spent time alone with him, and have always felt a little awkward about texting him. But whenever we've hung out together, at a party or the bar, we had chemistry. Honestly, I NEVER expected it to turn into something real and it wasn't even that serious, but it was fun to have a crush, blah, blah, blah.

Enter this weekend's events. A group of us went out camping for the weekend, and said friend fell from a very high height onto his face. I was one of two people to see it happen, and the first person to reach him. I ended up kneeling next to him for the next half hour while we waited for the ambulance. Now, I don't know if you've ever been with someone when they are seriously injured, but it's a pretty intense emotional experience. I felt entirely responsible for his life, regardless of the fact that I have absolutely 0 medical training. By the end of the 30 minutes, I found that my crush had gone from zero to hero.

He went to the hospital that night and we later learned that he had a broken jaw. Someone took him home from the hospital, and I drove his car back to his house from the camp site. Coincidentally, I happen to be the only one of his friends who's currently living nearby. (I'm at school for the summer, and everyone else has yet to arrive back on campus. His parents live a few hours away, and everyone else lives in Jersey or some equally distant place.) Therefore, I've been trying to help take care of him. I've taken him to doctor's appointments, brought him movies, etc. Long story short, I'm spending a lot of time with him, which is great. I'm getting to know him better, and I've gotten the impression that he's not entirely disgusted by my presence.

My conflict comes in because I don't want to complicate his situation. I feel like a broken jaw is probably enough to deal with without having to also worry about having to figure out a relationship. And I want to be there for him. But at the same time, I'm having trouble drawing the line between good friend and girl with a giant crush. It's hard for me not to read into every little thing (I get butterflies from a text), when because of the situation, it probably means nothing more than he's grateful.

I'm worried that I only feel a connection to him because I was there when he fell. How do I know that I'm not greatly exaggerating my feelings for him because of what happened? How do I keep helping him without also going crazy? And how do I tell the difference between what's him being interested and what's him being thankful?

Sincerely,

Dead from complications

Well you liked him before, so I wouldn’t be too worried that your feelings are completely disingenuous. There are a million reasons and circumstances under which we fall for others; I don’t necessarily think one is more or less valid than any other.

That said, play it cool for now. Obviously keep helping him out, because a) that’s awesome of you, b) he’ll definitely be grateful and thing you’re great for it (especially if it doesn’t seem like you have ulterior motives) and c) as you mentioned, it’s a great way to get to know him better and figure out if your feelings are exaggerated by the circumstances. But, for now, don’t worry about discerning his feelings for you or vice versa. That will sort itself out with a little more time and you don’t want to complicate the situation by pressing the subject or forcing his hand. I’m not saying you should act totally disinterested or anything, but for the time being just focus on doing this for him as a friend (without acting like a mother or nurse in the process) and responding to him in a way that’s consistent and appropriate given how he’s treating you, know what I mean?

Now, if you guys are still hanging out a lot, you still really like him and he’s not showing interest in anyone else in a few months time but things haven’t progressed, at that point it might be worth revisiting whether or not you should be a little more proactive. I just don’t think now is the time for it and I think you have more to gain (and certainly less to lose) from playing it cool at this point. Things will get real awkward if either of you get the sense there are unrequited feelings there while he still has to depend on you to take care of him but. Not to mention, you don’t want him to take a romantic interest in you just because there aren’t a lot of other people around and he needs someone to be there for him—that’s not sustainable and will eventually get really awkward too. But, if you can avoid either of those scenarios by being patient, then at the end of all of this (regardless of how it turns out romantically) you guys will probably stay fairly close… And if it doesn’t end up turning into something more than friends when things do go back to normal for him, I promise it won’t be because you didn’t come on strong enough now.

I can't answer this question based solely on how fucking confused I am. OK. So, he has a broken jaw, correct? When you have a broken jaw, don't they have to wire it shut for a few months while it heals and you can only drink a Boost for breakfast and Ensure for dizzert? Now, I'm basing most of this on Kanye West's experience, true, but still, how is he supposed to show interest in you if he can't talk? Is there a chance that they'll cut the wires and he'll be like, "GGGGGGAH! FINALLY! I'VE BEEN WAITING MONTHS TO ASK YOU IF YOU WANTED TO GET A DRINK OR MAYBE EVEN DINNER SOME TIME?!" Because if so, that would be romantic. And creepy. Mostly because I imagine moths and shit flying out like when Billy Butcherson rips open his mouth in Hocus Pocus.

And that's why I can't give you my opinion. Because I can't stop thinking about that. And now I want to watch Hocus Pocus.

Dear Queer Abby,

Yours truly is queer. Like full on blossoming-ball-of-sunshine in a vase of tulips type of gay. If there was a fire in my apartment, the one thing I'd grab is my autographed headshot of trashy-novel author Jackie Collins (in the ornate hot-pink frame, naturally) - just setting the scene here.

So last week I left the District for a work trip to foggy San Francisco. Being an expensed trip, I rationalized that it was perfectly appropriate to blow some cash at a bar in the Castro on drinks. I chose a karaoke joint with a one-word name and a cute bouncer. Long story short, I made out with a WOMAN. Repeatedly. And kind of didn't hate it.

There was some sort of I'll-buy-you-a-drink, date combination going on, and all of a sudden we were kissing and singing Barbie Girl by Aqua (WHICH MAY HAVE BEEN MY IDEA, I SHOULD ADMIT) on stage and it was delicious.

What wasn't delicious was the malibu and cokes and Marlboro ultralight breath of said gentelady (which I can still taste), and the confusion in the morning.

Now that I'm back safely ensconced in the borders of DC I can't stop thinking about it. Am I straight? Is there anyway I can atone for my sins with some sort of ultra-gay adventure or something? Should I give the ole' ladylumps a chance????

#CONFLICTED

Signed,

~I left my Gay Card In San Francisco

You think an ultra-gay adventure will fix this? You had your sexual-identity crisis at karaoke bar in gay-Mecca!...

I’m gonna spare you the sexual spectrum speech and just say, ‘Congrats, you just doubled your dating pool!’ From here forward just try to explore your interest in whoever catches it, regardless of what’s in their pants. You’ll either figure it out one way or another, or you’ll realize you don’t have to figure it out. And either way, you won’t have to deal with the unresolved questions.

I wouldn't be questioning my sexual identity so much if I were you. Because it's my belief that making out is like being sexually attracted to Jenny Lewis; it knows no gender. So you made out with a girl and you liked it; what with the taste of her cherry chapstick—maybe you've just discovered that you like making out with girls? That's cool. You have a really clever pseudonym, like the musical stylings of Aqua and live in DC; we'll totally make out sometime.

I'll tell you a story. One night during Senior year of college, the AU gang was out at a bar in Adam's Morgan (again, I stress Senior year of college) and Alex and I got into a fight. We took it outside and apparently our argument got heated because out of nowhere this drunk-ass girl stumbled up, grabbed us both by the arms and slurred, "Oh my gawd. You guys are schluuuuch an attractive couple. You can't fight. MAKE OUT! I WANNA WATCH YOU TWO MAKE OUT!" Alex and I looked at her, looked at each other, shrugged and proceeded to make out in the street for her viewing pleasure. And after her friends finally dragged her away, we went right back into fighting like it never happened.

My point here is this—Alex and Meg: will make out 4 compliments. My secondary, and less important point is that I don't think Alex questioned his sexuality after that. (I'd call and ask, but I'm pretty sure his parents are in town and staying with him tonight and I don't want them to overhear me being like, "HEY, ALEX! REMEMBER WHEN WE SUCKED FACE IN THE STREET BECAUSE SOME DRUNK CHICK WANTED TO WATCH? DID YOU STILL THINK YOU WERE A QUEER AFTER THAT?!") Because making out is fun; even in the middle of a heated fight. Shit, it might even be more fun then. The true test is whether or not you want to take it any further with a lady. For example: vaginas.

Let's talk about vaginas for a moment. I realize that I run the risk of having all of my feminist points taken away from me when I say this, but, I do not care for vaginas, thank you. I interact with my vagina as little as humanly possible. Sometimes I put something in, sometimes I take something out and I keep it clean. That's about as deep as that river runs. Because of this, I have a very medieval level of understanding about vaginal anatomy. Until three months ago, I didn't know where the cervix was and thought if you threw it in the river and you floated, it proved you were a witch. My vagina is a haunted house of mystery to me. I open my legs and ghosts fly out. I mention this because during one of my recent business calls with Tulane Chris, this exchanged happened:

Meg: I think I'm destined to be alone. But then again, I get emails all the time from chicks telling me they have a girl-crush on me. Do you think that's the Universe's subtle way of telling me that I'm a lesbian?

Tulane Chris: Well, let me ask you a question.

M: Shoot.

T: When you see a pretty girl walking down the street, do you think to yourself, "God, I'd just give anything to rub my face around in her warm, dripping wet pussy"?

M: [After a solid 30 seconds of silence] I'm literally so nauseated right now that I can't feel my legs.

T: Congratulations, you're not a lesbian.

So, dear reader, I ask you this: if you saw a pretty girl walking down the street, would you give anything to rub your face around in her warm, dripping wet pussy? If not, I think it's safe to say you're still the gayest kid on the block. And if so, meg@2birds1blog.com.

Do you have a question that you'd like Amy and Meg to answer? Do you want Meg to hit on you? Despite your very obvious sexual orientation? Shoot an email to QueerAbby@2birds1blog.com today!