Hey everybody! My vagina is the internet!
But before I get into that, let me deal with the two truths and a lie situation.
1. I'm a published author--not a blog. A book.
True. An essay of mine, written when I was still a card-carrying intellectual, appeared in a collection of scholarly essays edited by a couple friends of mine. Which came out in book form about 10 years ago. Duke University Press. Yes, you'd never guess. And yes, I have killed quite a few brain cells since then.
2. One time when I was partying with some friends at a record company, Keith Richards came in and offered me some coke, but I told him no thanks, I had some of my own.
False. Doing lines of cocaine with Keith Richards is a lie, insofar as it didn't actually happen to me. It happened to my oldest friend when she was at college in California. I went to college in Massachusetts, where you hardly ever meet rock stars. (If you went to college in California, please don't comment that you hung out with rock stars all the time. I already have all the degrees any housewife needs, and anyway, it would look weird if I started applying to college at this point. Although I probably would breeze through the essay part, what with almost five years of blogging under my belt.)
3. I didn't learn how to drive a car until I was 35 years old. True. Where I grew up there was a lot of good public transportation. And boyfriends with cars. So I didn't feel the need to learn to drive until I moved to Chicago and lived in the doughnut hole of Hyde Park, which, yes, is an oasis of integration and intellectuals and also where Barack Obama used to live, but is also surrounded on three sides by extremely non-gentrified housing and one side by Lake Michigan. There is public transportation, but it involves first heading into the Loop and transferring to the bus or train that will take you elsewhere in the city. It takes forever. So I learned to drive.
And now, about my va-jay-jay: I went to the lady doctor today for the annual weight, blood pressure, feel-the-boobs, get-up-in-the-stirrups swabfest, and when I left, I was handed a card with the url to a website and the instructions for how to log on and get the results of my pap smear.
This is probably news to absolutely no one out there. You've probably been checking out your cervix on the internet for ages. But it was news to me. Which just shows you how long it's been since I was up in the stirrups, whoops.
But now? My vagina is on the internet.
I feel just like Paris Hilton.