Glamour Magazine staged a These Girls event last night at Joe’s Pub in New York City, featuring a variety of monologues delivered by diverse women. Among the ladies performing was Olivia Wilde, who delivered a piece about her 8-year divorce from her spouse.
“I felt like my vagina died,” Wilde said. I turned it off. The lights have gone out… And you may lie to your relatives over Christmas dinner and tell them everything is well at home. “However, you cannot lie to your vagina.” Here, here, here. The vagina is the body’s polygraph machine: twitchy, tense, and inadmissible in court.
Relationships in Olivia Land are legally limited to seven years, with no possibility to renew. That way, it will never go bad. Can you imagine if we had only seven years? We’d be so lovely to one other, so grateful and excited as if we were eating a really costly bowl of pasta! And there wouldn’t be nearly as much cheating in Olivia Land since there wouldn’t be the threat of spending forever with one bedfellow. It just would not be legal. There’s also the matter of children. Okay, this is entertaining.
At the age of seven, all of the children in Olivia Land are sent to boarding school. It’s exactly like in Harry Potter! I want to make prostitution legal. Hiring a sex worker in Olivia Land would be as simple, sanitary, and cost-effective as getting a pedicure.
That way, when we are gone on business or simply not in the mood, we can simply rent a hooker for our loved ones to keep them uninterested in cheating and satisfied. These whores would have to be deafeningly deafeningly deafeningly deafeningly deafeningly deaf. The streets of Olivia Land are paved with dark chocolate, and everyone is free of body hair and menstruation cramps.”I’m not sure about Olivia Land, but I’m certain I want to go out and get drunk with Olivia Wilde.