"Best Before 21/Apr/08"
...she means it. Expired Sonic Death Monkey reeks.
I tried the Monkey today because I had fond memories of its Tootsie Roll odor, and I needed a smell self-esteem boost today. A few weeks ago Gary asked if I had ever considered douching.
What I should have said:
a. Have you ever considered sticking your dick in a autoclave?
b. No. Why would I? I smell like cinnamon toast and taste like tres leches ice cream.
c. Sorry. Well, you know I have Advanced Labia Rot down there. It won't smell pretty.
What I said:
Really? You think I need to do that?
What I did about it:
I've tried to take a little more care of the area, not just a surface shampoo and a hand swipe, you know, but a scrub past the gates. Not with soap, because I've done THAT once - but with a washcloth full of suds.
Another reason I'm atending to my toilette is I've been riding Western saddle on cold unwashed cans of Diet Rite White Grape Soda this past week. It's official: the labia swell with my cycle, then the week after my period yet again doesn't arrive, there is the external blood. Hence, my intimate relationship with cold soda cans. If in the future your labia swell painfully, go right to the refrigerator and grab a soda. This has been a Pubic Service Announcement.
I should be glad I've found it's cyclical, because that is proof my body does still recognize something is supposed to happen every 28 days. And I'm assured it'll be gone sometime next Wednesday at worst.It's monthly proof I am not pregnant. In my labia. With a Blabia.*
ANYway. When Sonic Death Monkey goes bad, it goes madmonkeybad. It goes so bad it smell worse than my purulent decayed shedding privates.
* A parasitic labia baby. I'm sure it's in Urban Dictionary. Not to be confused with Barbia, or Barbie's labia.
See those hips? That's Barbie. Before her vaginal reconstructive surgery.