Issue 2: The Periodical

1234V cover Issue 2 WEB

Excerpts from 1234V

Volume 1, Issue 2: Winter 2008

* * *

A Tale of Two Clots

Alana Mercer

Being eaten out vigorously usually generates one of the two reactions from me:

1. The one doing the eating is horribly over-zealous and I suddenly feel like a nursemaid for a feral calf and quickly ask the aforementioned “eater” to fucking stop.

2. This one is self-explanatory. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, I’m not about to start describing an orgasm on paper. Do your own research.

And very rarely does something occur where I am so embarrassed/horrified that I am entirely turned off (despite the presences of a tongue on my clit)… keep in mind this is coming from someone who has both quiffed in the faces AND mouths of at least three sexual partners.

That said, one such rare instance did occur.

It was a fall night. I was at my then-boyfriend’s house. Metallica, romantically enough, was blasting from the worn-out speakers of a cheap stereo, and we were fucking. My boyfriend decided he wanted to go down on me, which I was not about to argue with, but I did make a point of mentioning that it was in fact the third day of my period, so he might want to get a towel, as it was going to get a little gory.

So off he goes, and I lie back, listening to the soothing melodies of the broken speakers, and thinking of how much I’d like to punch Lars Ulrich in the face, and then the boyfriend comes up for a kiss. And in the dark, I suddenly notice what appears to be some sort of slimy creature sitting on his cheek, so I leap up and flick on the light and see not a slimy creature, but in fact, a slimy clot. And as my boyfriend goes to say, “What’s wrong?” I notice the second clot resting happily across nearly and inch of his upper lip. And as he then starts to laugh at my most likely hysterical expression, the clot nestled between his two front fucking teeth dangles down, blowing around as he breathes, flicking perfect little beads of blood onto the bed.

I then vomited a little on the floor, which then caused my boyfriend to turn quickly and look in the mirror on the other side of the room, just in time to see the clot on his cheek slide down and land on his lap. He proceeded to claw frantically at his face, which me laugh nearly as hard as those times when I accidentally made some quiffs in the faces of a few other boys.

And then it was over. Not the relationship (although eventually, that too), but the horror. And I never really thought of it again. Not until a few years later when I was doing the eating, and large, happy clot porlorped onto my hand and I, again, barfed just a little. (But that I also attributed partially to the fits of laughter the clot in my hand induced.)

It all just goes to show that no matter how comfortable you think you are with your bodily fluids, I still haven’t met anyone who can kiss someone that has a period clot dangling from their teeth.

* * *


Rant & Poll

Sarah Michaelson

So what is up with the douche? How did douching ever start? What prompted someone to irrigate their Sally so as to enhance freshness and later, supposedly prevent babies from being made?

It’s medieval times and some peasant woman is getting her scythe on in the blistering 15th century sun (which at that time would have been the centre of the universe, at least according to good ol’ Copernicus) and her V juices are stewing up, no thanks to the work and weather, and: sniff sniff.“Hm,” she thinks to herself, “I do not feel so fresshe doon there. I wish there was a wae to shouer min ladee parts.”

Fast forward to 1928, when women were actually told to douche with – sweet baby jesus – Lysol Disinfectant (clean yes, germ no). Well I should correct myself, scared ladies into “safeguarding their dainty feminine allure.” Oh barf. My V cries thinking about all of the women who not only had to suffer through the depression and war and girdles, but had burned their membranous dainties in a sad, sad attempt to maintain an odorless mystique.

That is why we pose to you, appreciators of the modern V, the following question:
You’re on a sultry date at The Keg and you find yourself in an odorous situation while in an upright position, do you:

a) smear Tom’s of Maine all over your thighs
b) turn to your year’s supply of “Lady Wash 3000” that you always have on hand
c) improvise with a lil’ vinegar
d) order the fish

Send us a v-mail with your answer at info(at)1234v(dot)ca.

Launch two poster-Sarah edit SITE

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