Giving the Cootchie a Facelift
Don’t be alarmed. In the coming days, I’m going to be freshening up the Cootchie.
The blog, people. The blog.
I hope it won’t end up like that joke. I’m sure you’ve heard it…….
A woman had an appointment with her gynecologist. She rushed around the bathroom, trying to make sure her naughty bits were spiffy, but all her wash cloths were in the dirty clothes hamper.
All except a lone used one, hanging on the rack.
With a sigh, she grabbed it, swabbed around down there and ran out the door to her appointment with Doctor Poke-and-Prod.
When she was fully splayed and stirrupped, her Cootchie-ologist assumed his usual position for full-on mountain view.
And, he laughed. Hysterically.
When she squirmed on the table, the doctor wiped tears and made eye contact through her spraddled legs. “You really wanted to celebrate this visit, didn’t you?”
She only realized what she’d done much later, when her daughter’s wails poured forth from the bathroom while she was cooking dinner in the kitchen.
“Mooooooooooommmmmmmm! Where’s my wash cloth with the glitter?”