200ish Chocolate Vaginas = True Friendship

I have been super stressed these past few weeks because the Vagina Monologues are rapidly approaching. Like, very rapidly. As in… they’re in 3 days.

The acting in rehearsals has been blowing me away; the cast is absolutely incredible and as director, I really don’t know what to do with myself because these women are so talented. But that doesn’t change the fact that a bajillion things need to be done, from the “Give Your Lips a Voice” t-shirts to the lighting and sound. As executive director/organizer, part of my job is to produce the chocolate vagina lollipops we sell at the shows (yes, you read that correctly). The idea here was to outsource this to a loyal band of KD sisters this evening, but the life-ruining “wintry mix” (i.e. the sky puked snow and rain for 10 hours without relent) sort of foiled my plans to leave the house after 6 p.m.

And thus, a herculean effort was underway. My mission: make 200ish vagina-shaped lollipops out of melty chocolate and some shady vagina-shaped molds. With the help of my beautiful, fabulous, supportive roommates, we were able to churn out a good chunk of them before I had to retreat to my room to write my Daily Sun column for the week. We were nowhere close to finished with the Vag-Pops, but I had to move on so we all gave up for the night.

12:30 am rolled around, and I surfaced from the cavernous depths of my pink boudoir seeking caffeine from the kitchen. And there’s my roommate, Danielle, standing all alone by the sink, cleaning out one of the chocolate molds. I thought she’d gone to bed, but instead she had finished every single vagina lollipop for me because she wanted me to have one less thing to worry about, even though she had class in the morning.

I was totally floored. She isn’t involved in the Vagina Monologues at all (in fact, her sitting through it last year was an enormous gesture of goodwill because she isn’t into this sort of thing), but she just wanted to be a supportive friend. I guess it’s true what they say: you don’t come to Cornell to meet your husband– you come to meet your bridesmaids. Love you, D.