moosh in indy.

August 7, 2007

So here’s something we don’t talk about enough as women.

Queefs. Yep. Vuh jay jay toots. You know you know what I’m talking about. (Before you go thinking “there goes that moosh lady sharing TMI again” it was the Canadians that started it. And the Canadians will finish it too, I’m not about to get TOO detailed on the subject because, well, it’s kinda embarrassing and in case you don’t remember I’ve had enough embarrassment for 2007.

There was a comment on this particular post about yoga queefs. These are the queefs I wish to cover momentarily. I have taken up yoga recently and have found that I have an amazing natural ability for contorting and holding myself in fairly unnatural positions. Frog? Cake. Swan? Easy. Full Lotus? First try. Needle? You betcha.
And while the name of the queef all yoga move is plow, the name doesn’t do it justice. I’m sure you’ve all seen it. While lying on your back you throw your hips over your head so your legs are straight and your toes are touching the ground behind you.

Talk about first row seat to your own queefing ability.

If I keep this up I’m going to Dooce myself from the Y.

No related posts.

Comments off.

Super funny, Wow! This is the first queef post I’ve encountered. Hillarious. We used to have a rocking warm up (in fetal ball–no idea what it was called) that was good for a few juicy farts, but no queefs.

Ahh, queefs. I was first indoctrinated into the world of queefs one night when I was in fifth grade. I was spending the night at a girl’s house that was a New Friend. Said New Friend had an older sister. Said New Friend and Older Sister made it a game!! Oh, fun! A game! Look! My hoo-ha toots! Hardy, har, har. They’d throw their legs over their head and rock back and forth and then … as if by magic .. queef.

I was mostly disconcerted, totally amused and vehemently against learning to do it myself.

The next Monday I innocently told my best friend about the encounter and what a queef was. My best friend, not known for her abilities to keep her trap shut, proceeded to tell everyone at school that so and so queefed. On purpose.

I was horrified, upset at her and mostly confused that everyone knew what it was but me.

Then a phone call came in from The Older Sister. Apparently, people knowing their queef game was enough to kill me over. Many times over. The threats, the taunts and the attempted battery finally had to be silenced because The Older Sister and New Friend’s parents thought that it was no big deal. My parents thought it was and finally called the cops when The Older Sister showed up to kick my butt after school.

So in fifth grade I had to explain to cop what a queef was and why a girl wanted to kick my butt about it.

Who knew queefs were so dangerous?!

Oh a vuh jay jay fart, the most evil of the three times of fart.

OMG!! I almost spit coffee as soon as I read the first line. LMAO!

Ya yes. Queef… (You’re going to have AWESOME google hits) I don’t get them that often. The WORST is during sex though, I seem to have them usually when it’s really hot and heavy. Tends to ruin the mood.

Funny post!

Toot Toot

Ahhh

Queef Queef.

Won’t you take me to…funky town?

I heart you, Casey! Anyone who can write about queefs and make me giggle before 7 am is a true friend.

Thank you.

I’d love to see everyone’s reaction at the Y during your yoga class. Is it like the time you “kicked” that older woman and she shot you a nasty look? Or are there queefs flying in every direction?

He he he.

Julie

Yeah, what do other women do when all this yoga queefing is taking place? Do you all just ignore it? I was going to try to go to yoga tonight at my gym but now I’m not so sure…

No one hears the queefs, or at least no one says anything, they all still treat me like I’m a normal person that can hold my air in (or keep it out, whatever).
The digeridoo music in the background helps too.

I second what Jennifer said.

I’ve never heard of them referred to as Queefs. We used to called them Quaffs. I guess we at least got the “qu” part right. Thanks for the schooling on the proper vuh jay jay fart vocabulary.

You just took me back to my dorm days in college — when we discussed any number of fun topics, including queefs!

Have you ever tried explaining the difference between a queef and a fart to your spouse?

Very difficult concept for them to grasp, I’ve found.

You come up with the best topics. I must now go off and see if I can reproduce this queef. Now if only I had a lock on my office door….

thank heavens this doesn’t just happen to me!

thanks for being brave enough to blog about queefs. i heart you!

You should have had a warning lable on this post. *Do not open if you’re at work…
Not because it’s risque but because I didn’t realize I’d fall on the floor laughing and be though of as an absolute kook by my co-workers.
The comment from JJ is particularly hilarious.
Yeah not a fan of the queef but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know what it was.
I love that you actually posted about it!

You do write about the damnedest things. I think I can say, hand on heart, that I have NEVER read a post on queefs before.

HAHA! I have never read anything about queefs, but I’m sure that we all have a lot of sordid stories about them.
And I am Canadian. We are a dirty bunch

So while we’re on this topic…

My husband went to sleep away camp every year. And every year he and his friend would teach the younger boys a new camp song. It went something like this:

Let me see your queef face.
What’s that you say?
Let me see your queef face.
What’s that you say?
Let me see your queef face.

(and then you make a face.)

And now we sing this song around the house. We’re classy at The King household!

Ha ha ha ha ha!!!

The whole thing is funny, but the thing that tickles me most is seeing the words “frog” and “cake” right next to eachother!

jeez louize is nothing sacred anymore?!?!

Y’know, I don’t do this much, but probably because it escapes out the other hole first.

How funny!

I can’t pretend to be shocked as the only reason I know what a queef is is because I was a faithful listener to Howard Stern until unemploymnet cancelled my Sirius subscription.

I don’t think I’ll steal the topic from you, though….

So the didgeridoo music at the gym … do you think that’s a deliberate queef-masking soundtrack? That would be kinda crafty.

I have your solution. Tampons.

Really – I wear one to every yoga class since an embarassing incident in 1998 in a co-ed class that nearly crippled me psychologically. I drove home that night and thought, “How can I just plug that area so nothing comes out?” And then the lightbulb came on.

Go on. Try it.

Queef.

*snicker*

I have never had a yoga queef. And good lord willing I never will because when I start yoga again I’m taking Jen M.’s suggestion and plugging everything up.

I didn’t even know how to spell queef. Thanks for the enlightenment.
When I was younger, I had a friend who claimed she could queef on demand:o

wow.

I just found you and I’m laughing my head off.

Thank you.

[...] “Best Yoga Queefer” or “Best Treadmill Orgasmer” or “Most unique use of Bungee [...]

[...] to take a yoga class where my flexibility and bendy parts still service me well. As you may remember I’m quite good at the “plow” pose. It was while in the “plow” Monday morning that my teacher decided to make an example [...]

Hey! I just took up yoga again after a yearlong hiatus, and I had some MASSIVE queefs yesterday. I don’t remember this being an issue before, but last night I was hyper aware of the air rushing out of my ladyflower. It wasn’t a large class, so thankfully I had enough space between myself and the nearest people that nobody else heard. I think.

So embarrassing.

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