As if losing an hour of sleep for daylight savings time wasn’t the most INSUFFERABLE thing about this day already, Saturday Night Live just went and made the weekend worse with their GOOP parody on Weekend Update. I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that they brought Gwyneth Paltrow on as a surprise guest to make fun of her to her face yet failed by pulling back on all of their punches, or that they failed to offer a mock PSA on the benefits of steaming one’s vagina while simultaneously boiling water for making organic zucchini spaghetti. Major missed opportunity.
Someone should get Cameron Diaz on the phone and tell her we need a 2nd edition of The Body Book that includes an amendment to the vagina chapter (what am I saying? The whole book is the vagina chapter). Shailene Woodley, the health food store hippie version of Jennifer Lawrence with the trailer park-sounding name, has recently come forward with some very important information regarding the health of your hoo-hoo.
In an interview with Into The Gloss, Shay-Lean burped out a ton of patchouli-scented beauty and health tips, like eating clay to cleanse your body of metals (homeopathic ho, PLEASE), as well as this one about keeping your chocha happy by giving it the Tan Mom treatment:
“Another thing I like to do is give my vagina a little vitamin D. I was reading an article written by an herbalist I studied about yeast infections and other genital issues. She said there’s nothing better than vitamin D. If you’re feeling depleted, go in the sun for an hour and see how much energy you get. Or, if you live in a place that has heavy winters, when the sun finally comes out, spread your legs and get some sunshine.”
No, Shay-Lean! Unless you’re trying to achieve subtle, natural highlights by spraying your pubes with Sun-In, you shouldn’t be popping your pussy into direct sunlight! How irresponsible of you, Shay-Lean; you never ONCE mention the use of SPF 200 lube; do you want everyone to get skin cancer of the clit? Or at the very least, a terrible sunburn that will start to peel and flake off and make it look like an old snake is shedding in your panties? Although I’m sure she has some kind of off-the-grid holistic use for old flaky pussy skin (“Use pussy flakes instead of deodorant or bake them in the oven for a tasty snack!”)
Here’s more of Shay-Lean at the Hollywood Walk of Fame induction ceremony for Kate Winslet, and frankly I’m shocked that she’s wearing a fancy dress and not a formal drug rug with a pair of Vibram FiveFingers.
They’re also wreaking havoc on armpits and waists, but they’re not the true victims in this story (so feel free to grab a cup of lukewarm coffee and take a seat in the lounge, you two). The reason you should all be shrieking in high-pitched Maude Flanders outrage today is the careless Photoshop goblin who’s been hacking away at the bikini-clad vaginas that appear on Target’s website. Won’t somebody PLEASE think of the vulvas!?!?
According to The Ethical Adman (via Jezebel) the Xhilaration® Junior’s Midkini 2-Piece Swimsuit -Leopard Print was featured on Target’s website and looked harmless enough, until you zoomed in and realized that the sides of the bikini bottom were creeping down the model’s legs like a pair of Halloween vampire fangs. Obviously, someone at Target gave the co-op student the go ahead to use whatever bobo Photoshop skills they learned in their Communication Tech class and carve out thigh gaps on the Juniors swimsuit models. And if the Target office is anything like the office I used to work in, there’s definitely a creepy dude who asked “Can I have those pussy scraps when you’re done with them?”
Target has since released a statement to BuzzFeed apologizing for the Frankenpussy that said:
“This was an unfortunate error on our part and we apologize. We have removed the image from our website.”
To which I say…as if, Target. Nobody in a corporation that large is allowed to sneeze without filing a TPS report about it first, so there’s no way I believe this was just an oopsie-doodle on the part of an intern. Someone definitely requested that the vaginas go from Hearty Taco to Malnourished Taquito, hoping that no one would notice the sloppy cut+paste job. Except that there’s no way not to notice there’s a giant chunk missing when you’re getting phantom pussy pains and checking to make sure your own labia lips are still attached.
And don’t feel bad for the mountain of shit that that pubis-hating hater is getting shovelled on them today, because Kim Kardashian has already sent a dozen muffin baskets over to the Target offices with a note saying: “To the Photoshop wizard who did a beautiful job on those bikini pics – there’s always a job for you at the Kardashian Kompound. Let’s talk, XO Kim.”
Saying the word “Duggar” around my vagina is like pulling out the vacuum from the closet in front of a dog; it freaks the fuck out trying to find a place to hide before shooting you a look that says: “You MONSTER! I thought we were friends??” But apparently the idea of pushing a dozen or so ooze-covered screaming watermelons through your hoo-hoo makes Shakira want to do that janky She Wolf dance in joy. In an interview with Latina (via Us Weekly) Shakira says that she’d be happily let her boyfriend Gerard Pique turn her vagina into a clown car if it weren’t for that pesky killjoy called work getting in the way:
“If it weren’t because of my music projects, I would be pregnant already,” the Voice mentor, mom to 13-month-old Milan, says in her interview with the mag. “I would love to have eight or nine kids with Gerard — my own futbol team.”
The magazine then tried to ask Shakira’s shakoochie what it thought about birthing eight or nine children, but was unavailable for comment because it was too busy rocking back and forth in a curled-up ball chanting “No no no no no.”
I know babies are adorable and whatnot, but unless you’re end goal is to establish a child army used to defend The People’s Republic of Your House, there’s really no reason to make that many kids. To put it in perspective, that’s like adopting a kitten and going “Oh my god, know what would be cuter than one kitten? 400 kittens.” Because the mess from one child or kitten (or decorative cactus if that’s where you’re life is at right now) is manageable. But the mess from 9 kids? Fuck me. Just the thought of stepping on a sharp-ass Lego in the middle of the night is enough to make me call up my doctor and ask: “Is there any way I can donate my fuck parts to science? I don’t want them anymore.”