The Hoo-Ha Sisterhood

Sometimes, I think that I don't appreciate the difficulties of being female. Recently, it has come to my attention that being the owner of a hoo-ha is a tricky proposition. For example, Karla gives us the following account of a typical baby shower:

Anyone attempting to strike up a conversation that's not related to the pain of pushing a human head out of one's hoo-ha is swiftly punished, as the other ladies close in on her and pummel her about the head and neck with their handbags.

First of all, I have to say that I was surprised to learn that baby showers were permitted in women's prison. Secondly, and more importantly: Why in the name of God would you want to project human heads from your hoo-ha? It is bad enough that you have decapitated another human (hence the jail sentence), but show some respect for the dead. To be fair, I have witnessed the projection of objects like champagne and ping-pong balls from an asundry of hoo-has. But these were the hoo-has of skilled professionals, who were undoubtedly under the supervision of a veteran hoo-ha coach. I'm sure that years of practice and training were required to learn these skills. Ladies, while I do appreciate the versatility of your hoo-ha, it's utility as catapult is questionable, at best.

At Living in the Big Time by Jen Gaffney, I found the following:

We also don't carry our instruments everywhere with us. Or stick flutes in our hoo-has.

Just the other day, I was listening to a professional violinist lament the decline of the symphony orchestra in American society. I believe that Ms. Gaffney has found the solution. I am certain that I would attend more classical concerts if the musicians played their instruments with their hoo-has. For certain, instruments like the cello and xylophone would present a challenge. As a Big Picture Guy, I haven't worked out the logistics of it, but these are precisely the types of problems that organizations like the Peabody Institute were designed to tackle. I look forward to hearing a stunning rendition of the Monistat Concerto #7 in the near future at my local metropolitan orchestra.

I also found a rather disturbing warning regarding hoo-ha maintenance at I'd rather be having a beer :

I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter - "So, my butt and who-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!"

Since this is an Alaskan blog, I believe that who-ha is an alternate spelling that can be attributed to dialect. Regardless, Arctic Skipper has a lengthy essay that warns of the dangers inherent in waxing ones hoo-ha. Ladies, I'm going to let you in on a little secret here: The male attraction to your hoo-ha is based primarily on its functionality. Seriously, take a look at your hoo-ha. (If you are at work, your boss will understand, because after all, it's in the name of science.) Are you looking? Good. Now ask yourself this: If my hoo-ha was a flower vase or a Pez dispenser, would any guy want to look at it? I am afraid the answer is no. Consequently, you don't need to engage in behaviors that risk your hoo-ha's ability to perform its primary mission. In the throes of intimacy, I assure you that you will never hear the following: "You know, I just don't find your hoo-ha as aesthetically pleasing as I was hoping to. I'm going to go change my oil." Of course, there are exceptions. For example, it would be perfectly understandable to tattoo the following on your hoo-ha: "Mayor TFG Welcomes You To Hoo-Ha City." Other than that, I think that we can conclude that activities involving your hoo-ha and hot wax, sharp objects, or tattoo guns are simply not worth the risk.

In closing, I'm going to have to say that hoo-ha ownership looks much tougher than its male counterpart. Thus, it is probably a good thing that men are hoo-haless. I know that if I had a hoo-ha, I would have broken it irreparably years ago. Probably while trying to use it as a bottle rocket launcher, paint mixing vessel, or some similar foolishness. While I certainly enjoy visiting hoo-ha land, I don't think I could live there. For now, I'll stick to borrowing when it comes to filling my hoo-hicular needs.