Jules Duels With The Growlers

March 13, 2019 9:22am Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 18 Comments

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!

Do you know what? Sometimes everything gets right on my nerves. I feel like I’m permanently on the edge of going a bit psycho. I looked up the symptoms of a nervous breakdown and it appears I’ve been having one for about 25 years.  

There’s no real reason for this other than my own inability to just be. And refuse to accept that ‘This is the way things are’ or, refuse to ‘Do things the conventional way’ or to accept that ‘You just can’t change some things.’

Can’t do it. 

Is this because I have a vagina?

The Monologues

As fortune would have it, one of my friends was directing this old favourite at my local, small-town theatre and suggested I come and see it one night. I didn’t know if I’d cope very well with the material but decided it would be an experience. I’m always a bit dubious of anything pro-feminist that could have no basis in real feminism whatsoever. This vaginal-venture would either make me even more recalcitrant or cure me of my present unnecessary hysteria. It’s a bit like trying goat yoga – you just don’t know if you’re overstepping boundaries or opening new doors. 

I bought two tickets and then contemplated at length which friend I’d take with me. I have an eclectic range of pals and it had to be someone who would give me a rational and sound opinion of the show afterward in case it did my head in. After some careful consideration, I chose a very right-wing businesswoman who is gay but hates lesbians. I figured this was as balanced as I was going to get and would provide me with fair insight. 

“Do you think they’ll say the C word?” she asked.

“What? Clitoris?” 

“No! The real one!” 

“I don’t know, but the way I’m feeling of late, I might.”

Coochie Snorcher

Was one of the words used to name the vagina which I found quite playful. I think Victoria’s Secret or Anne Summers should produce a line of exotic panties and call them this as it sounds rebellious, fancy, and a little bit filthy which might appeal to guys.

“Oi, darlin’, ya got those Coochie Snorchers on tonight, eh eh?” 

I can hear that line going down at the pub after a few pints to some fair game.  If you made them edible and taste like bacon you’d be on to a winner.  

Just a thought.

Another part of the show that I found amusing was this: 

“The clitoris is simply a bundle of nerves: 8,000 nerve fibres, to be precise. That is twice…twice…twice the number in the penis. Who needs a handgun when you’ve got a semiautomatic”

Parts of the evening made me dreadfully uncomfortable and I had to take my cardigan on and off a few times when I got hot and bothered; and not in a good way. Some of it was very funny, and some of it sad and moving. But mostly, it was weirdly interesting.

Did I enjoy it, is the question…

The friend who directed the show asked me this and my reply was, “I think it’s made me much more vagina confident.” 

Which is true. I would never say that word out loud before but now I’m doing it on purpose, randomly, because it makes people flinch. I find that being obnoxious and inappropriate is helping a lot with my irritability. 

International Women’s Day

This came up on the same week. Again, not something I pay attention to but I’m currently acknowledging “Special Days” for a marketing project and this was one of them. However, it has to be said that some kind of magical unity takes place on this day between women that doesn’t usually.

Women, in my opinion, tend to fail each other on so many levels. A woman is the first to judge you on your appearance, the first to find your insecurities, the least likely to support your endeavours or like your profile pic, the first to bag your bloke, and the first to call you names behind your back and kiss you on the cheek with the same bitter lips moments after.  It’s called biological competition.  And this has, and will, continue to happen to all women, at some time. 

Unless, of course, it’s your female besties or family who will protect you with a sisterhood that knows no fear or bounds when necessary. Although, they will still have committed one or more of the above sins at some point because we are all a bunch of insecure bitches. It baffles me and yet I understand why it happens. 

But, on International Women’s Day, the support is palpable. Truly. 

The following day, it’s all over and we revert to type: Sally will be telling Tracey that Sarah looks a slut in her new top from Zara that she’s too fat for and, oh-by-the-way, it totally doesn’t match her inferior lipstick. 

Men do not behave like this with each other.  

Nor do they wear lipstick.

Or have vaginas. 

Sit Your Chirper on the Chair, Chicken!

Still feeling somewhat fractious after my long week of bedlam, bitches, and beavers, I decided to go out for a coffee yesterday morning to meet some work colleagues. Sara Blizzard (our local BBC weatherwoman) had just wound me up with more news of hail/snow/sleet/rain/and 70 MPH winds all in the space of a day. The fact her surname is Blizzard and she’s a weather girl makes me smile and want to puke at the same time. That’s an example of a  woman taking the easy road and not trying to think outside the box.  

I got blown into Costa Coffee by the ferocious wind and found my posse already doing the crossword at a table.

I put my wet, cold finger on the puzzle grid and said, 

1 Across: LOSERS



“Sit down! What do you want to drink?”

“Something strong, dark and masculine. But with a touch of sprinkle. I need to find balance before I tip over.  I’m on the flippin’ edge today, AGAIN! I don’t know what’s up with me but one more thing and it’s going to get proper nasty. I can tell.” 

A few minutes later, warming up nicely with a group of sensible, level headed people, and a coffee away from the throng of madness, I started to feel a bit better. Quietly and systematically we began to complete the puzzle in the paper and discuss upcoming projects.  Nice. Pleasant. Soothing. Right up until a woman at a table next to us kept getting up and down like her arse was on fire.  

Up down, up down, up down.  

I looked over at her. She seemed like a regular sort but obviously wasn’t.  

I looked at my group.

“Just leave it alone,” someone said.

I tried. Really hard. But through my peripheral vision, I could see her Jack-in-the-box-ing constantly and it started to irk the hell out of me. A visceral dislike took hold.

“Somebody make her stop cos if she gets up again I’m going to take her chair away and then pin her to the floor with it.” 

Thank God, because He saved her life. In that very second, as my friends took my hands, very tightly I might add, the Tigger in tights was greeted by her pal rushing in. 

“Sorry I’m late, traffic was a nightmare!”

So’s your friend… I whispered. I WHISPERED. OK?!

“Oh, I’ve been up and down looking for you because I left my phone at home…”

and brain…. I whispered.

“And didn’t want to think I’d missed you, missed a call or a text….”

or missed your seat, oops too late …I whispered.

 “Now we can relax and have a coffee!” she giggled.

And then I noticed her name. Written on her cup.  Written in bold, black ink by the resident barista. It was like Karma was mocking me. You’ll never guess what it was.  Never.  


If only I’d had a Sharpie pen….


Leave a reply

Blah-blah-blah, was there any talk of the new ‘mangina’ as part of the vagina monologues? You know that the progressive thing to say is that “all women don’t have vaginas”. As to the woman who was up and down, you could have asked, “do you have a rat in your vagina?” Having been to the show, you are likely to be empowered to say things like that.

The tranny movement, and male athletes competing mangina-to-vagina with women is an interesting phenomenon. Because men/women, all the same now. DNA be damned.

You know if there was a ‘penis monologue’ show, the only men who would attend would be raging/flaming homosexual males. No straight male would go to a ‘penis monologue show’. That’s one way that men are different than women — if they were indeed different, and I’m not saying that they are because that would be politically incorrect. Maybe I’ll put on my emergency clown nose and be done with it.

Larry! We are missing a trick here and you’ve just plucked the winning ticket from the fuzz! You and I NEED to write the Penis Monologues! How can this possibly fail? It has money ejaculating all over it! And the very fact it is written by an American Alpha Male and a quirky, petulant, British chick practically ensures success. You know I can make anybody talk to me – hell, I’ll even sit in a shopping mall with a placard around me saying, “Come and talk to me about your penis” and you full well know I will be inundated with potential cock and balls stories! We can include everyone because inclusion is the name of the winning game. The lost penis, the fake penis, the mangina… if we get women to talk about their penis experiences then even Alpha males will read/attend the show out of pure curiosity. It will be an absolute sensation. And yes, we will probably have people criticising us or calling us politically incorrect and throwing fake genitalia at us, but who cares?! We’ll be sipping champagne on our yachts! Besides, there’s no such thing as bad pubicity <- see what I did there! Come on, LL! You know we can do this. I'll get the stories and send them to you and the bank manager will get the biggest erection of his life. You game?

My only fear is that it would be a best seller.

Exactly! 🙂

Well firstly have you ever been “appropriate “ I’m sure at some stage you were a little shy but that’s many moons ago. I think it’s great that women can talk freely about their vagina and even laugh about it. I can’t imagine a male gathering discussing or laughing about the penis there is too much ego involved. Yes women judge or criticise but the sisterhood is an amazing supportive network when we need it that’s sadly lacking in the male species. You need to carry a whoopie cushion in case that woman is in Costa again. Did you finish the crossword?

I’ll have you know that the only reason for my occasional inappropriate outbursts is because I AM painfully shy and have not been properly socialised. This is why I write because there is a barrier between me and the real world full of monsters.

I’m not sure how I feel about openly discussing my vagina or anybody else’s. I find it unladylike and the vagina should be a secret den of mystery; a special place. Even my waxer doesn’t discuss it even though the only reason I’m there is to wax the waffle. We will talk about anything and everything under the sun but the coochie until it’s all over and she whispers, “Everything down there looks lovely”, and then, “I’ll just leave you with some privacy whilst you check it over and get dressed. I’ll be outside waiting.” Why? She’s just been more fiddly with my intimate bits than any bloke I’ve ever met!

Women can be the best avengers and the worst enemies. I find that my male friends are just as supportive and without the drama.

That woman did my head in. I very nearly took her chair away so she’d land on her arse. And of course I finished the crossword! Tch! With help…. 😉

You said “vagina”.

And made you say it too! ;P

the most famous Gina: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rU038FNIiao

mah dahlin I HAVE A VAGINA!!! it all makes sense now, you’ve cured me!!! do you know how much money I can save not going to therapy?! I can use that money now on, like, pencils and stuff.

oh how I love local theatre. I wish I could go back to my local theatre-in-the-round but I’ve been banned for life from there. long story, let’s just say it involved one too many blueberry muffins hanging hooked on a fishing line…

wait, her actual legal last name is Blizzard? talk about fortuitous. i was offered a snowjob one day but it had nothing to do with meteorology. imho, my hierarchy is as follows: Maria LaRosa > Gina De Vecchio > Sara Blizzard

Eeyore In Tights: name of my band in college and also something you really don’t want to see, very sad spectacle


Daaaaaam, Gina! Is now the name of my Vajesty.

Let me tell you now, my sweet if I have cured you by giving you a vagina you are gonna need more therapy than you are nights of sleep. It’s a well-known fact that with this Pandora’s Box comes all manner of evil.

Her actual name is Blizzard. If I were her I would at least make my surname my first name and sound like an ice-queen superhero.

Eeyore in tights brings forth strong, dark imagery. *)

In the US, there is a certain lady who goes by the name “Stormy”. I’m thinking that stealing a page from that person, STORMY BLIZZARD would be a winner, if only her stage name.

It’s definitely a winning improvement on both ends!

I think I have a touch of sprinkle, Juju 🙂

I already knew that! 🙂

Are you back blogging, Dean? Say yes…. because you should be!


Ironically, I was thinking about canceling greatonwheels.com because I am tired of maintaining it. It’s well done and full of great info but, I’m Just kind of “blah” on it now (I think I have started and stopped entirely too many sites in my time). But instead of killing it, maybe I’ll just let it be and start a blog on the same service provider and…write. Maybe 🙂

I never knew about the dashcam blog! I just had a nosey around. I understand your frustration. I start things with great gusto and lose interest in them if I’m not a millionaire in a week 😉 But, you are a most excellent poet and a virtuoso of prose so I would hate to think you’d let that talent go to waste. 🙂

“Who needs a handgun when you’ve got a semiautomatic” — I’m confused. I have several handguns and they’re semiautomatic and some that aren’t, they’re called revolvers or “wheel guns.” Is this some kind of code for “no guns needed, we have v*****s!”
That said, you’re pretty brave going to that show. I would’ve gone too but might have ended up throwing pint glasses at the c*nts while bellowing Rule Britannia.
Sometimes exile is the better call?

Stop being jealous, LSP 😉

Yes, you are correct and this has been brought up several times on Reddit. Look, it’s vaginas talking so that’s all you need to know.

Ha! Next time you are in ole Blighty I will take you to the Vagina Monologues just so I can witness this sketch!

Agreed. 🙂

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published
Required fields are marked (*)

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.