Yes, celebrate gay marriage with genitalia, because that’s all gay people care about. That’s it. Way to stereotype people. Forget equality and commitment, gay women are only interested in vaginas.

Well, and golf. And German Shepherds.

And hiking.

SWEET JESUS

“This is NOT Summer’s Eve!” Like there’s some great disadvantage to buying FDA approved sanitary products made in hygienic conditions. That is so corporate, man. Down with Big Pussy!

I’m sorry, there is no way I’m buying a bag of parsley and cat hair douche from a stranger on the internet. Jesus Christ, I wouldn’t even buy food on Etsy, much less hillbilly bajingo wash.

Just what it sounds like. A $250 cake that looks like snatch and tastes like ass.

You see darling, now that you’re a woman, your uterus will become puffy and swollen every 28 days. And when we beat you with sticks, candy will fall out of your vagina!

Who wants cake?

And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and also gave unto her husband with her, and he did eat.

And the eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they had been naked. So she put Scrunchies in her hair and gave herself a landing strip.

- Brazilians 4:20

Oh it’s impressive and all, but it really would have been something if she’d painted a picture of a vagina with her vagina. Then she could have framed the whole thing in tampons and called it “Herotica,” and Sarah Lawrence would have bought it for the Fallopian Studies building.

“A staggering 55% of women, irrespective of age, size or weight, experience camel toe at some point.”

“After all, being a woman is hard enough and having a Smooth Groove in your underwear drawer will make it just that little bit easier!”

Well thank God, is all I can say. Thank God someone is looking out for women in a positive, empowering, Occupy My Walls kind of way. Because being a woman is some seriously tough shit.

There’s the threat of sexual violence, the fashion industry imposing an impossible standard of beauty, fighting for equal compensation and opportunity in the workplace and trying to keep your giant, sloppy vagina from unravelling in your pants like a loose bragioli.

Fortunately for us gals, there’s the Miracle Polymer Clam Smoothie™. Now you can shove a $30 piece of plastic in your thong, stand up in front of your male counterparts and make that important presentation, without worrying that everyone is gawking at that engorged, rubbery poon of yours.

YOUR COOTER IS TOO BIG TO FAIL

Get your own Miracle Mound Snapper Spackle™ here

Well, let me rephrase that. I love looking at men in strange underpants. The weirder and more inexplicable the design, the more I like it. It’s not a sexual thing, it’s more that I can’t believe someone thinks that looks sexy.

One of my favorites in this category was the Heartbreak Clown Thong:

Is that fantastic or what? I’m not even going to talk about cream pies and squirting flowers. You can fill all that in for yourself. No, I liked this because I enjoyed pretending it was Dane Cook, and it was the only job he could get after Good Luck Chuck.

But more importantly, who the hell would buy something like this?

Oh wait, never mind.

And then there was this little number, which goes by the name of “Balls Out.” It’s designed to allow your nutsack flop out so you look like an old guy on the bus, going to his proctologist appointment.

IS IT HOT IN HERE OR IS IT YOU

But today I have one for you that is so special I can barely put my enthusiasm into words. May I present… THE CHANGED MAN BIKINI:

How about that action? I expect these to sell out pretty fast. After all, who doesn’t want their balls look like a baboon’s ass?

The manufacturer refers to this as their “best selling vagina-style suit,” and says it allows you to get in touch with your feminine side by “creating a virtual pussy out of your cock.” Trés Matrix!

First of all, what is “vagina-style?” Is that the opposite of “Big Willie Style?” And where would you wear this, exactly? The gym? Maybe your neighbor’s Labor Day party? How about just lounging around the pool at the Sheraton? That wouldn’t be weird, would it?

I’m not getting it. Maybe a closer look will give you an idea.

Me neither.

I guess I’m not the target market, but I don’t see anything remotely hot about crushing your junk with an elastic strap so it looks like you have an enormous, inflamed camel toe.

Maybe it’s a Halloween thing. I hear Kim Kardashian is a pretty hot costume this year.

- Buy your own Changed Man suit here. I dare you.

Let me get this straight. You want beverages and a ride in your own car? And I’ll get babysitting money? I’ll be right there, Mrs. Brady!

Jesus Christ. Even on drugs lesbians are boring.

I’ve been doing this since I was eleven years old, and I have voiced a lot of characters. Some of you probably grew up listening to me, or have children and are currently suffering through my work.

Which brings me to Friday night, when I saw this Tweet:

A few hours later, someone had uploaded the clip to YouTube.

I’m just going to leave this here.

Yes, that’s me, Clarabelle Cow.

I don’t remember this particular episode, but I’m not surprised. As careful as people are – and believe me, people are very, very careful about this stuff – something always gets through that makes us wonder if anyone else hears it the way we do, or we’re just sick bastards who ought to keep our mouths shut.

It reminds me of something that happened when I was working on the 101 Dalmatians television series. We were told that Disney brass was coming to a session and would be watching us record, and they were bringing some people from Standards and Practices. I was asked by my agent to watch my mouth and not swear too much, because the people from the network were pretty humorless.

I played Cruella on that show, and Pamela Segall Adlon (better known as Bobby Hill, or for her roles on Louis C.K. and Californication) played a puppy named Lucky. Pam had also been warned to watch her language which was probably harder for her than for me. I swear a lot, but she makes me look like an amateur.

All went well until we got to a scene where Cruella called someone a “moron.” A flurry of activity started behind the glass, and while we couldn’t hear them, we knew that they were having a discussion about that word, and whether we could say it. Finally the director came over the loudspeaker and told us that the network felt the word “moron” was inappropriate, and could we please come up with alternate?

Pam and I looked at each other, and started gamely throwing out ideas.

“Idiot?”

Too harsh.

“Imbecile?”

Too highbrow.

“Jerk?”

Too sexual.

We did this for several long minutes, and the network shot down everything we could come up with. Finally we all fell silent.

After an excrutiatingly long pause, Pam said, “I guess ‘cuntlapper’ is out of the question.”

And… scene

The only way this thing is going to increase your sexual power is if you pick it up without using your hands.

“Placenta/bloodstains easily covered by your favorite linens” is my new disclaimer for everything.