Vaginas Unite

So...I tried out for a role in my school's production of the Vagina Monologues, and I got a rocking part. I will present the monologue, "The Angry Vagina." Except my version of it is more neurotic and confused. Get yourself to DC on Feb. 12, 13, or 14 if you can. Below the fold are the first two paragraphs of my monologue to get you excited. Also, I showed my monologue to my grandmother and she is very concerned and wants to know if I can be recast. My grandpa loves it.

My vagina's angry. It is. It's pissed off. My vagina's furious and it needs to talk. It needs to talk about all this shit. It needs to talk to you. I mean what's the deal — an army of people out there thinking up ways to torture my poor-ass, gentle loving vagina. Spending their days constructing psycho products, and nasty ideas to undermine my pussy. Vagina Motherfuckers.

All this shit they're constantly trying to shove up us, clean us up — stuff us up, make it go away. Well, my vagina's not going away. It's pissed off and it's staying right here. Like tampons — what the hell is that? A wad of dry fucking cotton stuffed up there. Why can't they find a way to subtly lubricate the tampon? As soon as my vagina sees it, it goes into shock. It says forget it. It closes up. You need to work with the vagina, introduce it to things, prepare the way. That's what foreplay's all about. You got to convince my vagina, seduce my vagina, engage my vagina's trust. You can't do that with a dry wad of fucking cotton.