Make sure you check out Lilu’s site, and check out her TMI Thursday archives for all sorts of hilarity!

First off, I want to start by saying that while this definitely goes into the TMI category, the following post is by no means written with the intent of solely being gross or disgusting. This is a topic that I have been thinking about for a while, and it is something I truly feel needs to be discussed.

Queef is one of my least favorite words in the dictionary, though I’m not even sure it is in the dictionary.

Hold on. I’ll check Dictionary.com…

Queef: No Dictionary results

Well damn, dictionary.com- get with the times.

Thank goodness we have Urban Dictionary to rely on.

The top entry:

1. Queef: an expulsion of wind from the vulva during coitus; a vaginal fart.

You see people, I have a slight problem with this. While technically, yes, a queef is an expulsion of wind from the vulva- it #1. doesn’t only happen during “coitus,” (who uses that word besides teachers?) and #2 I wouldn’t necessarily call it a fart.

While queefs are similar to farts in that they both are air escaping a cavity in our nether-regions, I think a queef is more of a distant cousin to a fart, if anything. Basically what I’m saying is that I think that for centuries now, queefs have been highly misunderstood.

Farts are the result of the food that you put into your body. The odor and air comes from a place deep down in your bowels where undigested food festers and rots. (I have no idea if this is correct, but it’s the way I imagine it, shut up.) Farts are capable of causing an odor, not unlike the scent that comes from a dumpster or food rotting in your desk drawer. Essentially, it seems to me that is precisely what they are. Your ass is the dumpster or disgusting desk drawer in this scenario, if that wasn’t clear.

I’m getting tired of using the word queef, so from this point on I shall call it by it’s homonym, a Ppfffsshhhhhh.

Ppfffsshhhhhs on the other hand, they are simply the result of extra air being released from a woman’s special parts. There is no odor unless you have a nasty wanana, or have been storing food items up there for reasons that I don’t want to hear about. They aren’t the result of a diet. They don’t mean someone is disgusting. And most importantly, they cannot be foreseen and they most certainly cannot be controlled.

I’m not bitching about this because I’ve had a terrible experience with ppfffsshhhhhhing or anything. Oh sure, I’ve experienced them, plenty of times, but it wasn’t really anything too drastic or embarrassing, and that’s kind of my point. I feel like most adults are to the point where they know there isn’t anything mortifying about ppfffsshhhhhing, yet there is still this stigma that comes along with the real word for ppfffsshhh. I feel like as we get older, it becomes not so much a big deal, but I remember hearing high school boys talk about it and I thought it would be the end of the world if it happened to me during sex.

Though it isn’t the end of the world or a deal breaker (I don’t think) I do still get a little embarrassed when it happens during sexy time. It’s either completely verbally ignored but dwelled upon, thus ruining the remainder of the tromp; or it is followed by an awkward giggle and the comment “ummm… that wasn’t a fart.”

To be honest, most of my experiences with ppffsshhhhhing haven’t even happened during sex. I was a dancer. There were times when we would have to lay on the floor with our legs above our head and one would inevitably escape. Even now when I do yoga, I’m quite sure that there is at least one ppffsshhhhh that occurs in every session by some woman in the class.

That is why I believe that ppffsshhhhhs shouldn’t even have a place in the TMI world. They need a new name that doesn’t sound so gross, and then they need to be de-stigmatized.

My motto? Shit happens, and so do ppffsshhhhhs.

So let’s all come together for the cause. Help me think of a new name for ppffsshhhhhs. We can enter it into Urban dictionary and do our part to change the world and make it a better place, for you and for me and the entire vaginal race.

A sample entry:

V:_____________ (syn) queef, pussy fart (homonym) ppffsshhhhh

1. An expulsion of wind from the vulva that can happen during coitus, stretching, Dr.’s visits, baths, or basically during any activity where any amount of air is pushed up into the vaginal cavity. Although______s do come out of a woman’s woohoo, there is absolutely nothing gross about them. They are usually the result of a pleasurable activity, and even Oprah Winfry, Michelle Obama, and Megan Fox have ______ed on many occasions.

***Feel free to add to that definition as well.

And also?

What has two thumbs and can ppffsshhhhh on command?

Oh yeah, this girl.

ALSO! It’s not too late to enter my Brentalfloss CD Giveaway. Contest closes Midnight on April 4th I will announce the winners next Monday, so get on it. If you are unfamiliar, familiarize yourself with this dude here.

Personally, I have a love/hate relationship with horror flicks. I really like to watch them. Really, I wouldn’t turn one down no matter how “B-rated” it may be. Zombie movies are my favorite, but I will watch ANYTHING. In fact, I got started on “horror movies” way earlier than the average pup. I’m not sure whether my mom just didn’t see anything wrong with showing them to me, or if she really didn’t think they would affect me- but I can honestly say I remember watching Poltergeist at 5 years old.

As much as I like them  and I appreciate that my mother didn’t censor them from me, I have a feeling that movies of the horror genre had a greater influence on me than anyone would have guessed. You might even say I have been scarred for life. So in light of it being “National Scary Movie Week” or at least “My House Scary Movie Week ,” I share with you the 5 movies that had the most profound affect on me as a child.

Arachnophobia: I recently re-watched this movie and I have come to the conclusion that I must have been thinking of a different movie. When I watched it way back when, it was definitely, in no way shape or form- a comedy. This movie absolutely terrified me. I remember making my sister come and sit in the bathroom with me while I showered because I was thoroughly convinced that a spider was going to come up the drain and instantly kill me with it’s poisonous venom. I was scared to eat popcorn because of the scene where a spider is in the bottom of the bowl.  And to this day, if I see a spider, no matter what breed- chances are you will see me pull a cartoon and run straight through the door.

Child’s Play: I have to preface this with the fact that my parents were of the belief that I really liked playing with dolls. Every year they would drag me to the local doll show and buy weird creepy used dolls that I had to pretend to enjoy. Truth was, the only “dolls” I ever really loved was a Teddy Bear named Teddy, and my Teddy Ruxpin.  Even before I saw this movie I was convinced that my dolls would come alive when no one was around. I blame this on my viewing of Jim Henson’s “A Christmas Toy” about a kajillion times. (If you haven’t seen this, it was basically an earlier, more primitive version of “The Toy Story.”) I was already very sensitive about my doll’s feelings, and didn’t want any of them to feel more important than the others. So after I caught a viewing of Child’s Play at the ripe old age of 7, I was more scared than ever to piss any of my dolls off. Every night before I snuggled up to Teddy, (the regular stuffed animal not Ruxpin because he was hard) I would walk around my room and kiss each and every doll goodnight and tell them that I loved them.

There was one doll in particular that frightened me the most. It was nearly life sized and had red unruly hair, very a la’ Chucky. I grew convinced that this particular doll in a one piece swimsuit would be my demise. I paid it extra special attention, even though it really frightened the bejeezus out of me. I started noticing that it was never in the same place that I left it. I finally told my mother and she swore that she would get rid of it for good. She said she burned it. Years later, when I was a Junior in High School I came home to find that swimsuit doll on my day bead. You might say I went a little ballistic. I thought it had come back for the sequel. My family thought it was hilarious.

Image by Echo9er via Flickr

Pet Cemetery: My dad grew up in the house where my grandparent’s still live. He had 3 other siblings, and came from a family that really loved animals. I loved my grandparent’s house because they had woods in their backyard where my cousins and I would frolic and build forts and such. I loved it all, except for one little area, just barely visible from the back room where I had to sleep. Their pet cemetery. Ah hells no. This shit even has gravestones and everything. I never really thought much about it until I saw the movie. Then I would think of practically any excuse not to have to stay over at their house (even though it was my favorite place on earth) and if I did have to stay the night I would ask to sleep with my sister. On the occasions where I had no choice but to sleep in the back room, I would stay up all night, one eye steadily focused  the white grave stone in the distance. I imagined seeing dogs and cats and raccoons rise from the graves to attack me. Those gravestones still scare me to this day.

Image via Wikipedia

Jaws: My mom had an obsession with pretty much everything that could hurt me (vampires, zombies, spiders, boogie men) and sharks were no exception. Jaws was one of her favorite movies, and consequently one of the movies that I watched as a very young child. As if that movie didn’t scar me enough, every summer my family would make a six hour drive to the coast. My mother would spend the entire six hours reading true stories of shark attacks out loud. As a result, I spent the better half of every summer vacation scouting the ocean for sharks. While my cousins would all take their floats out as far as they could go, I would stay knee deep-eyes out.  I am finally to the point where I’m not afraid to go in the water, but you can bet I would be VERY aware of any dorsal-like fins that may appear in my near vicinity (3 square miles, to be exact.)

The Return to Oz: I haven’t seen this in a very long time (because damnit it was scary) but I do remember it quite clearly. I think. Am I even thinking of the right movie? All of Dorothy’s old friends were stoned (in the turned to rock sense, not doing drugs…)

She meets up with a talking reindeer, a weird robot thingy called Tick-Tock, and a man with an empty pumpkin head. If that is not creepy, then I don’t know what is. I was mostly scared of the lady that changed her heads like they were wigs. Even Dorothy played by that scary girl from the Craft, and she is creepy enough by herself. I don’t have much else to say about this movie, but I know it terrified me.  The trailer is below, just in case you are curious.

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As always, stay classy on this wonderfully beautiful Tuesday.

I’m sure everyone remembers Joaquin Phoenix and his crazy antics on Dave Letterman last February. I know we all heard that he quit acting and instead, was going become a gangsta rapper and what not. And I’m sure we all speculated that him turning into a homeless looking person and forgetting how to speak proper words was all an elaborate hoax done for a mockumentary that his brother in law Casey Affleck had been filming.

After he fell off the stage at a rap show, I was certain there would be more occasions where he would be out and about with the media on his heels. For a few weeks he was all anyone talked about. Ben Stiller even parodied him last year during the Academy Awards.

Flash forward 7 months, and it’s like it never happened. His latest movie, 2 Lovers, was released recently without a word about it’s stars whereabouts. What the hell is going on? Does noone care anymore?

I, for one- am of the mind that the media is in kahoots with him, and are purposely staying out of his way. If this is the case, then whatever we have coming is gonna be good. Real good. So good that the Perez Hiltons and Tyler Durdens of the world are not wanting to spoil it.

Or maybe I’m just the only one who cares.

This morning though, I was more thoughtful than I usually am at 6:30 in the morning. On average, the most brain work I do is an attempt to figure out what Al Roker thinks is so funny about what he just said on the Today Show.

Today though, was one of those mornings when I start questioning everything. “What the hell am I doing with my life?”  “If I go back to school, will I be able to start a career in something I’m really passionate about?” “Should I wear my hair curly or straight?”

As I was driving to work, and wishing for a magical solution to all of life’s questions, I couldn’t help but recall a time not too long ago when a friend of mine was seeking similar advice.

I remember we were driving back from the bar, and he was a little more tipsy than usual. He is a talker, and spent the majority of the ride asking what he should do about a current relationship- that he wasn’t in. Although he continually asked what he should do, he didn’t really want to our opinions- for they were not the opinions that he wanted to hear.

All of a sudden he reached up and hit the Onstar button on my friend’s new Tahoe. The rest of us in the car didn’t really know how to respond to his action- and were possibly a little too curious about why he would be pushing Onstar to put a stop to it.

Onstar lady: “Hello this is Onstar, how may I help you”

The details are a little fuzzy, as I was a little tipsy myself- so don’t mind my paraphrasing.

My Friend: “umm.. yeahh, I was needing a little help…”

Onstar Lady: “Yessir, what can I do to help you? Do you need roadside assistance? Do you need directions?

My friend: “ Well you see there’s this girl that I like… I don’t know. She is acting like a total bitch.”

My other friend and I can barely contain our laughter at this point, but go ahead and let it continue.

My friend: “ I mean I just don’t know what to do…”

Onstar Lady: “Um sir… I can’t help you with that situation, that’s not what we’re here for.”

My friend: “ What? that is what you’re supposed to be there for.. to help…”

While it was impossible to not burst out into laughter, I had to consider how truly genuinely desperate my friend sounded.

At this point you could tell the operator was starting to get a little annoyed, as she allowed her attitude to start to show through.

Onstar lady: “Uh no sir. We give help to people – help like direct-shuns. Sir you need to go somewhere else with yo problems….”

My friend: “But I do need directions!!! Life directions!!!!”

It was at this point we had to cut the conversation short, before the Onstar lady pointed out our location to a cop, although I have to say that she had to have been at least a little amused to take this call in the midst of a hundred other mundane “real’ direction calls.

As funny as this was, how great would it be if there really were a service to give us advice on our problems? I mean I know there are psychologists and therapists and what not, but I want something to just tell me what to do, not help me to make my own decisions. I’m talking about something similar to a human 8ball, at our disposal twenty four hours a day to tell me things like whether I should have Thai food or a sandwich for dinner.  It is so much easier to take advice from people we don’t really know in real life. I guess that’s what we have to look forward to with robots…

Anyways, only slightly related, I heard some good news today.

I just got wind that Bob Dylan is in the talks with several companies to do a GPS voiceover. If I get my hand on one of these, it could be major trouble for anyone who has to spend any amount of time with me. How awesome would it be to listen to Dylan talk for about ten minutes, just to find out all he really wants you to do is make a U-turn at Elm St. And you know I already have a hard enough time refraining from infiltrating  my current GPS system’s Australian accent into my everyday life. “Turn Lift at the next ixit.”   (That’s about how good my Australian accent is in real life too.)

And if you know me at all, you know that I have an extra hard time resisting “Bob Dylan” talk any time his I hear his name mentioned.