Labiaplasty. Rainbow parties. The ubiquitous vaginas of Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears. Paris Hilton. In a healthy, clear-thinking society, if even one person had any idea what any one of these meant, then someone, somewhere would probably lose their job. As it is, they're universally known. And Lindsay Burns is pissed.

Burns's excellent 2006 show, Dough: The Politics of Martha Stewart, lampooned pop culture from a feminist perspective, and in that regard The Vajayjay Monologues takes a similar tack. Satirizing Eve Ensler's famous Vagina Monologues, Burns tears through a series of vignettes that run the emotional gamut from heartbreaking to gut-busting. Thankfully, neither her witty, cynical criticism nor her ability to entertain has diminished.

Vajayjay echoes The Vagina Monologues structurally — a solitary woman sits at the front of a darkened theatre upon a stool, giving monologues. Where The Vagina Monologues espoused feminine empowerment, though, Vajayjay shakes a stern finger. Each vignette tackles a different feminine issue that Burns believes has been negatively impacted by Ensler's play, or was simply overlooked by it. The result is a surprisingly cohesive, hilarious performance that strikes one resounding note: self-respect is requisite to empowerment.

Gushing praise aside, Vajayjay isn't perfect. Periodically, a vignette will make its point too early and spend the remaining five to 10 minutes spinning its tires, throwing out jokes like a Gatling gun but never really saying anything. It's funny, sure, but in these instances the humour just comes off as a smokescreen, and not the cleverly implemented truth bomb delivery vehicle it is meant to be.

Burns is at her best when she slowly builds to a darkly ironic punchline that hits so hard it leaves the audience shaken well into the next skit. In a brilliant piece that comments on pre-teen sex culture from the perspective of a 12-year-old girl, Burns chronicles the protagonist's transformation from a sweet, ordinary kid into someone who blows older boys in a mall bathroom while being filmed with a cellphone camera. As the last line strikes, it's clear that she's lost none of her innocent perspective, that instead she's been victimized by a culture obsessed with sex and glamour. And it's funny. It's horrible, infuriating and sickening, but it's no less hilarious than any other piece in the show — even if it is in a way that makes you feel bad for laughing.

Happily, Vajayjay delivers more often than it plods. Burns has proven, once again, that she has the talent and charisma to hold a stage by herself for an hour-and-a-half, and the intelligence to craft a message that ensures her audience's rapt attention isn't wasted.