"I started feeling patently, almost titanically, gay."
David Sedaris goes to Costco.
"(chuckling) I'm so happy I could shit a puppy."
"Look at them staring at people like that. Your boobs are so obnoxious. Uch."
"Ugh, I know you. You're always on the corner of Fuck-off and Cunt-bag."
"Jesus nipples on ice! I am NOT going shopping for hamster wigs. No!"
"Listen: Some people play Scrabble. Some people play chess. You? You play turd puppets."
"Don't. Don't! Oh, don't exfoliate your labia."
"What I really need now is a whippet, three tubes, and a fuck-off mallet. Then it's go go go!"
I think it's time I shared my giant vagina story.
A curious fact of gynecology is that the skinnier you are, the larger your diaphragm size is. [I got] very skinny in the early 1990s--108 pounds--and I had to have my diaphragm resized. I took the prescription to the local drugstore, dropped it off at the counter, and walked to the other side of the store to read magazines while I was waiting. The drugstore was mobbed, and there was a long line of people snaking past the magazine stand.
There was a mentally disabled man who had worked at the pharmacy for years. His job was to collect prescriptions, call out the names of people when their prescriptions were filled, and do checkout. He had obvious social difficulties, and a booming voice that he didn't seem to be able to modulate.
So I'm standing there reading a magazine when I hear the guy yelling, "Miss [JONES]? Miss [ANN JONES]?" I start walking toward him to get my prescription, but there are so many people teeming around the pharmacy counter that I can only get about fifteen feet away. So the guy spots me and hollers, "You are Miss [Jones]?" I tell him yes. And now everyone standing nearby is listening and looking at me, and a hush has fallen over the store.
"WE'RE SORRY," he says, loud enough to be heard outside the store, "BUT WE DON'T STOCK DIAPHRAGMS IN A SIZE LARGE ENOUGH FOR YOU. WE'RE GOING TO HAVE TO SPECIAL ORDER IT."
Every single person in the drugstore turned around to look at me. I nodded and bolted for our car. [My husband] couldn't stop laughing. To this day, he likes to joke about my GIANT VAGINA.
Things can be made to precisely one's own specification, one's own ideal of beauty; things can be perfect; things, if broken, can be made again; things do not, like boys, betray their owners and run away with handsome sailors.