coochie poot

That's right.

Coochie poot.

It sounds so much more refined than queef.

I plan on using it from now on whenever I feel the urge to speak of a woman's ability to expel wind from the most private of her places.

Which is daily AT LEAST!

Those fools from that job I had to go pee into a cup for have YET to call me back and tell me if and when I start. Which pretty much leaves me sitting around the house all day feeling like a piece of shit for not doing anything except waiting on a phone call. I'll do the dishes and feed Crockett & Tubbs and clean up a bit and watch Maury and Ricki and OOOOOHHH there's some soap opera that comes on in the afternoon that has a witch and a midget in it that I like to watch if I catch it while flipping through the channels.

I remember the first time I saw it I was in here in the computer room and I heard this little kid talking all kind of shit, being all prim and proper, and I was all "Nah ah...we ain't having another one of those Welch's Juice ho's invading my house" and I walked out to inspect and it was a little boy talking all grown up.

I spit!

I spit on the ground before me!

Then I noticed that when he waved his arms around they were really short. And then a lightbulb appeared over my head and I screamed "IT'S A GODDAMN MIDGET! A MIDGET PLAYING THE ROLE OF A CHILD!"

So ever since I've been hooked on that show, whatever the name of it is.

I'm like a housewife.

Except I don't have children to watch over. I am waiting on that one phone call that comes during my midget/witch spree just so I can say "I'll call you back. My stories are on"

But so far no one has called during that time of day.

Also, today I was staring at our fish and I came to the conclusion that mine, Tubbs, is one ugly piece of something.

Crockett is all blue and flowy, but Tubbs is like this yellow mini corn cob like you get in Chinese food.

Makes me sick.

January 23, 2002 | 10:34 p.m.

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