Coochie Redux: New Nomenclature for Your Hoo-ha

This Barbie toothbrush has a real woman’s figure
While in the drug store the other day I heard a mom talk to her little girl (who was around age five) about female “private parts”. The little girl wanted to know what Tampons are and why her mom was buying them. The mom said, “They’re for mommy’s coochie, honey.” And then Mom quickly steered the little girl over to the Barbie toothbrushes—you know, the ones with the handles shaped like Barbie’s unrealistic proportions. Which, by the way would be 39-18-33, if Barbie were human size.

Sweet Jesus, no wonder little girls grow up thinking Charlie Sheen is a viable option.

But overhearing that conversation got me thinking. We need a new name for the female velvet pleasure palace of carnal delights. (I think that’s from a Nora Roberts novel…and if it’s not it should be.) A coochie sounds like something you get from sharing combs and hats with people who have an aversion to washing their hair. (“Damn it, Billy’s got coochies again. He has to stop hanging out with those skanky girls who cruise Hot Dog on a Stick at the mall.) You can see how if the words “infestation” and “coochie” somehow found themselves dancing together in the same sentence the connation would not only be confusing, but icky.

…’cuz this is South Vagina

The word vagina just doesn’t cut it, either. That sounds too much like a southern redneck state where the number 13 constitutes the number of counties still flying the Confederate flag, as well as the legal age a girl can get married. “Yeah, me and Virgil, we’s from South Vagina where they make a sweet potato pie down there so moist and creamy it brings all normal men to their knees. And by normal we don’t’ mean them prissy sissy boys up North who think it’s okay to shave all your body parts even if your name ain’t Michael Phelps.”

Yes indeedy, “gay” is the new “black” down in good, ole South Vagina.

A Coochie By Any Other Name is Still a…

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, coochie. I believe we should rename the female genitalia to cul-de-sac. Think about it. There’s only one way in and one way out, just a like that little suburban alcove on which most red-blooded Americans are born and raised.

In either case, the beauty of the cul-de-sac is that you can explore it for only so long and then you need to go. You never want to overstay your welcome in a cul-de-sac, because let’s face it after the cul-de-sac gets over its excitement of having you as a guest, it really doesn’t want you hanging around anymore. Oh sure you’ll probably want to return later (and depending on how groovy the block party was, the cul-de-sac might even want you back). But regardless of how long it’s been between visits, you shouldn’t get lost if you finally do get invited back. Navigating a cul-de-sac is easy if you paid attention the first time you were there. If fact, you’d have to be a moron NOT to know your way around a cul-de-sac because cul-de-sac geography was part of your junior high core curriculum all way back in the seventh grade…unless you’re from South Vagina.

a 71-pt word coutning triple word and several double letter scores

Coochie Goes High Brow

But just when I was getting chummy with the idea of sporting a cul-de-sac between my legs, I began to over think it (as usual) and thus decided the word “sac” dangling at the end was just too masculine of a handle for such a delicate flower. How about cul-de-coochie instead? The wordsmith in me likes that little bit of alliteration. Plus, it almost has a pop-culturish French ring to it, like when Labelle sang “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi (ce soir)?” in the song Lady Marmalade. Because as everyone knows, there’s nothing like being pretentiously trendy when it comes to labeling the front porch of your reproductive organs.

But when I test drove the word cul-de-coochie at a Mormon Gay Rights Rally (yes, we actually do have those here in Utah; gays and rallies, as well as a few Mormons) a BYU English professor dressed as Marie Antoinette correctly pointed out that “cul-de-coochie” gets too far away from the concept (and vision) of “cul-de-sac” as a stand-in. He suggested cul-de-snatch instead, as that literally sounds more like cul-de-sac, thus preserving the integrity of the intended imagery. And then he danced off with a buffed mining executive from Kennecott dressed in nothing but a loincloth and lapis beads. (Oh, how I love hanging out with intellectuals.)

Just keep lookin’, Skippy

As a result, I’ve decided to stick with cul-de-snatch as the new nomenclature for my hoo-ha. I’ve already started using it in conversation as if it’s a word everyone should know. The really hip people pick up the meaning out of context and those I have to explain it to I just tell them to go look it up. (Which is kind of like pretending to throw a stick and then watching a dog chase after nothing.)

SO the first time you hear “cul-de-snatch” used in snappy repartee at some chic cocktail party (or on an episode of Family Guy or South Park), remember you heard it here first. They stole it from me, which is the sincerest form of flattery. You can smile to yourself slyly knowing YOU were actually present at the birth of that exraordinary new word just by reading my blog. What could be hipper than that?


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Stacy Dymalski is a stand-up comic who gave up the glamorous life of coach travel, smokey comedy clubs, and heckling drunks for the glamourous life of raising kids (who happen to be bigger hecklers than the drunks). This blog is her new stage.

For more of Stacy’s comedy check out her hilarious book Confessions of a Band Geek Mom available in paperback and on Kindle on

25 comments on Coochie Redux: New Nomenclature for Your Hoo-ha

  1. Somehow when I think I first entered the New World exiting a cul-de-snatch kinda makes sense now. No wonder I’ve kept going down dead ends most my life!

    1. I’m sure they haven’t been ALL dead ends, Doug. Some of those paths you were on HAD to be through streets. But you’re right, we all enter the world by finally leaving the neighborhood cul-de-snatch, so to speak. As someone who played landlord to two separate nine-month tenets, I’m happy to say those “housing” days are over for me. 🙂

  2. You had me at “I bet VAGINA has more aliases than an FBI most-wanted mob boss”. Pee wee, really? That’s disappointing. What we called the boys C&B. Cul-de-snatch is my new “go to” word, and I promise to give you credit for it!

    1. Thanks, Marissa! I’m so glad I can help increase your vocabulary. It’s always good to keep improving oneself, so if you come up with any new words, too, I’d love to hear them. Maybe if we work hard enough we’ll eventually have our own language. (Now there’s a scary thought!)

  3. Well, you made me laugh so loud I woke up the most recent resident of my cul-de-snatch ( you really should put a trademark after it). BTW, my nick for it is “cooter” and my daughter calls it the “papaya”. The funniest part of this is that I have no friggin idea why we chose those stupid euphemisms. I needed a good laugh, thank you!

    1. I don’t know why we have these weird names for “IT”. Where did that come from? Renaming your “cooter”, I mean.

      I think I’ll do a little more research and then do a Toastmaster’s speech on the history of “poontang” names (there’s another one). As I mentioned to someone else on Twitter, our girl parts have more aliases than an FBI most-wanted mob boss.

  4. While you are renaming, would you also work on the other words down in coochieland? vulva and volvo sound too much alike. I learned when I was teaching my young son all the correct anatomical terms. I Stopped teaching those terms when he was talking about his favorite car at church.

    1. You’re right! Vulva and Volvo do sound too much alike! Could you imagine if a husband says, “Honey, I’m going out for a while. I’m looking for a decent deal on a trade-in, so I’m going to go test drive some new vulvas.” Oh, I’d like to be a fly on that wall. 😉

    1. Well, if you do, Ruth, please let me know! I think I’m going to do a Toastmasters speech on all the names women give their “cooters” (there’s another one that a commenter gave me–sounds like an old person to me). So anything you think of later, please let me know!

  5. Okay, Stacy – now that you have “coochie” covered off, I’d love to hear your thoughts on better names for the One-Eyed Monster. And please be sensitive in your approach on this; there are lots of fellows out there named John Thomas awaiting your suggestions with great anticipation…

    1. I totally agree, Julie. Turnabout is fair play. I hadn’t thought of giving the same treatment to “the skin flute” but I think it’s completely warranted. Stay tuned…THAT blog will be even funnier. Thanks for the suggestion!

  6. LOLOLOL! Oh my goodness! Too funny! Reminds me of things Mom tried explaining to me but couldn’t through all her “stuttering” and saying “Go ask your father.” Love your blog! HILARIOUS!

    1. Thanks, Linda! I know what you mean. My mother couldn’t explain ANYTHING to me, either. It was my step-dad, actually, who sat me down and explained the facts of life when I was about nine years old. And here’s the funny thing…he used all the correct terminology, but I had NO IDEA what he was talking about because my mother had always referred to reproductive body parts by her goofy nicknames (peewee, boobies, and she called a penis a “deedle”). So when my dad threw out actual terms like vagina, breasts, and penis I did know what the heck he was talking about!

  7. It sounds a little bit (perhaps quite a bit) like the “Hotel California”. Except that a fellow can leave if he wants. He CAN leave if he wants to can’t he?

    Perhaps you could jot off a note to “Dear Amy”? She might be able to clean up some of the confusion and address some of the associated terminologies and geographies. If you should contact her concerning this matter; please ask her for footnotes AND ask her if she was BORN this way.


    1. Yes, a woman’s cul-de-snatch is sort of like “Hotel California”. I think the lyric in the song that sums it up best (in terms of men’s relationships with women’s cul-de-snatches) is “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.” Sorry Phil, but I don’t think you can ever leave. You can go away for a while, but you’ll always want to come back. One visit to the cul-de-snatch, and (straight) men are hooked for life! It’s worse than heroin! 😉

    1. Thanks, Cara! I’m so glad you enjoyed my post. Sometimes these things are just so true that they practically write themselves! (But I’m happy to take all the credit.)

  8. Holy shit. You’ve outdone yourself! I feel a little lazy not thinking up a new name myself. Even though all the old standbys are, as you correctly point out, horrible, I was still content to live with them. Way to fight the status quo, sister! My sister refers to hers as her “crick”. (So disturbing.) Cul-de-snatch has that je ne sais quoi. Great post!

  9. It actually sounds very French. Cul-de-snatch adds a little sophistication to the term, “snatch” and makes it sound less Venus Fly Trappie or should I say “trampie?” The best response I ever heard to the where does the tampon go question, is “in the bathroom.”

  10. I do agree, coochie sounds too close to cooties for comfort. Unfortunately I am not quite at ease with cul-de-snatch. I don’t know, it reminds me of Audrey II “Feed me, Seymour!!!” Thanks for the suggestion and all the thought that went into it but I guess I’ll keep searching…

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