don't feel like celebrating valentine's day because it's a crass, corporate hallmark holiday that has nothing to do with love and means absolutely nothing? then celebrate v-day and envision a world without violence against women and girls.

so here is a special excerpt from the vagina monologues, by eve ensler...

my angry vagina

my vagina's angry. it is. it's pissed off. my vagina's furious and it needs to talk. it needs to talk about all this shit. it needs to talk to you. i mean, what's the deal? an army of people out there thinking up ways to torture my poor-ass, gentle, loving vagina.... spending their days constructing psycho products and nasty ideas to undermine my pussy. vagina motherfuckers.

all this shit they're constantly trying to shove up us, clean us up - stuff us up, make it go away. well, my vagina's not going away. it's pissed off and it's staying right here. like tampons - what the hell is that? a wad of dry fucking cotton stuffed up there. why can't they find a way to subtly lubricate the tampon? as soon as my vagina sees it, it goes into shock. it says, forget it. it closes up. you need to work with the vagina, introduce it to things, prepare the way. that's what foreplay's all about. you got to convince my vagina, seduce my vagina, engage my vagina's trust. you can't do that with a dry wad of fucking cotton.

stop shoving things up me. stop shoving and stop cleaning it up. my vagina doesn't need to be cleaned up. it smells good already. not like rose petals. don't try to decorate. don't believe him when he tells you it smells like rose petals when it's supposed to smell like pussy. that's what they're doing - trying to clean it up, make it smell like bathroom spray or a garden. all those douche sprays - floral, berry, rain. i don't want my pussy to smell like rain. all cleaned up like washing a fish after you cook it. want to taste the fish. that's why i ordered it.

then there's those exams. who thought them up? there's got to be a better way to do those exams. why the scary paper dress that scratches your tits and crunches when you lie down so you feel like a wad of paper someone threw away? why the rubber gloves? why the flashlight all up there like nancy drew working against gravity, why the nazi steel stirrups, the mean cold duck lips they shove inside you? what's that? my vagina's angry about those visits. it gets defended weeks in advance. it shuts down, won't "relax." don't you hate that? "relax your vagina, relax your vagina." why? my vagina's not stupid. relax so you can shove those cold duck lips inside it? i don't think so.

why can't they find some nice, delicious purple velvet and wrap it around me, lay me down on some feathery cotton spread, put on some nice, friendlyp ink or blue gloves, and rest my feet in some fur-covered stirrups? warm up the duck lips. work with my vagina.

but no, more tortures: dry wad of fucking cotton, cold duck lips, and thong underwear. that's the worst. thong underwear. who thought that up? moves around all the time, gets stuck in the back of your vagina, real crusty butt.

vagina's supposed to be loose and wide, not held together. that's why girdles are so bad. we need to move and spread and talk and talk. vaginas need comfort. make something like that, something to give them pleasure. no, of course they won't do that. hate to see a woman having pleasure, particularly sexual pleasure. i mean, make a nice pair of soft cotton underwear with a french tickler built in. women would be coming all day long, coming in the supermarket, coming on the subway, coming, happy vaginas. they wouldn't be able to stand it. seeing all those energized, not-taking-shit, hot, happy vaginas.

if my vagina could talk, ilt would talk about itself like me; it would talk about other vaginas; it would do vagina impressions.

it would wear harry winston diamonds, no clothing - just there, all draped in diamonds.

my vagina helped release a giant baby. it thought it would be doing more of that. it's not. now it wants to travel, doesn't want a lot of company. it wants to read and know things and get out more. it wants sex. it loves sex. it wants to go deeper. it's hungry for depth. it wants kindness. it wants change. it wants silence and freedom and gentle kisses and warm liquids and deep touch. it wants chocolate. it wants to scream. it wants to stop being angry. it wants to come. it wants to want. it wants. my vagina, my vagina. well...it wants everything.