I'll give you a minute to digest that image. It's like staring into the sun, where the longer you think about it the more permanently burned into your retina it becomes. I even shared this story with a male friend of mine who reacted with horror. "Jenny McCarthy's centerfolds helped me enter manhood! Why would she say that?" Whatever mystery or magic McCarthy's vagina held over my friend is now gone forever. It is replaced by the knowledge that what lies behind that tuft of blond bush is not only for sex, but also for creating babies (and pee).
I suppose the glitter fades with every new experience, not just McCarthy's vagina. The best we can hope for is that some things in life actually live up to the hype- unlike Bruno, which totally blew (insert pun here). Or we can just realize that nothing is perfect and that the rainy days are just as beautiful as the sunny ones. Hell, even Humphrey Bogart shit his brains out on occasion. Does that make you like Casablanca any less?