That was the title of the 10th anniversary of the Vagina Monologues that was dedicated to the women on the Gulf South who underwent a catastrophic event. The stage was filled with celebrity but none more than Charmaine Neville who experienced the ultimate catastrophe – being raped on a roof while waiting for someone to rescue her. [Where were you George Fucking Bush? I only hope you are pecked alive by birds of prey before your mind is completely gone.] Okay, but I digress, the evening was jammed packed with readings and awareness of our vaginas – an interesting topic needless to say. The worst story was the 70 plus year old woman who had never had an orgasm. The best was Bob, who helped one woman learn to love her vagina. It was an evening about opening up and learning how to really moan and learning how to give yourself pleasure and even a woman who was straight who found out she could give women such incredible pleasure it became her life’s calling. In the harsh reality of the world, if you can’t enjoy your vagina for godsakes, what do you have? Late in the evening, L and I went to go get a beer and they had shut down all the concession stands and as we were headed back through the curtain to our seats, a guy tapped me on the shoulder and brought me on the other side of the curtain and whispered, shady-ly “you want a beer?” and I said sure, and he brought me over to a trash can and got me some iced down bottles of Bud Light – I thought I had struck gold and so did the girls when I returned. After the event, we went to the W where we had a lot of celebrity sightings – Jennifer Beals was the best – her performance was stunning as she imitated all the moans that every type of woman can have when coming – the Jewish woman, the bisexual were both great, but it was the African American that was the highlight – Oh Shit, Oh Shit, Oh SHIITTTT, OHHHHH SHITTTTT, and Jennifer too was so beautiful in person, just like eye candy.