It's a manly man thing to say such comments "I listen to my balls" or "I'm letting my balls take the lead" or even in rare occasions "My ball's spider-sense is tingling"... have you ever seen the British Sitcom "How Not to Live Your Life"? The lead in that is always asking his balls questions as if they each had a mind of their own the equal to the one on top of his shoulders (Add it to the list.).
I didn't mean that you could follow your queefs to homespace, but that a queef in a vacuum might open a door into another dimension, perhaps one even with no shrimp.
I meant that after you had left reality as you know it, you might be so lost that asking directions would be pointless, not that your cooch would be a somewhat comparable article to Rudolphs red shiny nose leading Santa back to the pole.