proof: not all weird shit comes from japan The 800lb enema, held aloft by cherubim: The 5ft tall sculpture, a bronze syringe bulb held aloft by three Botticelli-style angels, was revealed at the Mashuk-Akva Term spa in the southern city of Zheleznovodsk. “There is no kitsch or obscenity, it is a successful work of art,” Alexander Kharchenko, the spa’s director, said. “An enema is almost a symbol of our region.” The Caucasus mountains region is famous in Russia for dozens of health spas. Many offer enemas with water drawn from mineral springs, that are said to treat digestive and other complaints. Mr Kharchenko said the monument had cost the spa £21,000. It was installed in a square in front of his spa, with an accompanying banner declaring: “Let’s beat constipation and sloppiness with enemas” posted on one of the spa’s walls. Palin Ain’t So Appealin’ Dementia meet John McCain.  McCain meet Dementia. John McCain picked his Vice President running mate, Governor Sarah Palin of Alaska. Wait.  Who is that? Exactly.  Now, you won’t catch me bashing too many politicians for limited experience.  We need a new breed of Washington Politics, which means new voices are important.  After all, Obama doesn’t have as much experience as John McCain. Fine.  Palin is relatively new to this political game and I can dig it.  No worries on that front, right? Except that McCain is 72 years old, has battled cancer, and is a stress case.  I don’t wish the man any bad luck, but it is very concievable that he could pass away during office.  So, this two-year politician from Alaska with zero foreign policy experience and limited national economic experience would take over? Uh, call me crazy, but that’s one of the strangest VP picks, ever. Well, it’s not that strange at all.  McCain seems to believe Hillary supporters and women, in general, are morons.  He seems to believe that because we share the same body parts as Palin that - sure, we’ll vote her into office, helping McCain sweep up those dissatisfied voters away from Obama.  Yes, because Palin is a woman we will vote for her. Not me.  I consider it an insult to all the challenges I’ve faced as a woman.  In fact, it pissed me off. Some Hillary supporters might vote Independent, use the write-in ballot, or go for McCain.  Only a few women will stray from Obama, as McCain isn’t going to manipulate most women into believing this was done for the advancement of women.  I’ve got your choice right here, asshole. Sarah Palin Info: 1. Creationism as part of school lessons, particularly science class.  She backed off her original statement concerning this issue, but her mentioning it is enough to scare me away. 2. Pro-life.  A term I hate, because it implies that some women are PRO DEATH.  Anyway, she takes the abortion issue to entirely new level of absurdity.  She is in favor of women having babies that result from rape and/or incest!  Her claim is that she has faced the abortion issue, having chosen to keep her baby with Down’s Syndrome.  I can respect that, but allow other women the right to choose - especially if they’ve been raped. 3. She believes Global Warming is a myth.  Science isn’t of much interest to her.  (She would fit right in with the Bush Administration.) 4. She’s currently under investigation for abuse of power.  Long story, with all the family dramatics.  A bit disconcerting that she’s under investigation this early into her political career.  Whatever.  Innocent until proven guilty, so we’ll wait to see. 5. Claims to have fought Big Oil over taxes.  Seems to be true.  However, what she’s not discussing at any great length is her desire to drill for oil in Alaska.  She rejected admitting that Polar Bears are an endangered species, though scientists and biologists have concluded otherwise.  Normally you might fall back on the “She’s not into science thing”, but the truth is, to have admitted Polar Bears are an endangered species would prevent Big Oil from drilling oil in the refuge.  Oops. 6. Claims to have shot down the Bridge to Nowhere deal.  Not true.  She wanted it to go through but Congress said NO! to funding. 7. Has a degree in journalism, with a minor in political science.  Once was a Miss Congeniality and beauty pageant winner, a star high school basketball player.  Commercial fisherman, like her husband, and a stay-at-home mother.  A little over two years of political experience, ranging from mayor of several thousand people to Governor of Alaska, which is the size of medium-sized metropolitan cities in the US.  Basically, she is responsible - as Governor of Alaska - as a mayor would be for a medium-sized city. 8. NRA member.  She hunts.  Even eats Moose Stew. 9. Been in Vogue.  Now on the cover of People Magazine, using her Downs Syndrome baby as a prop for votes.  How do we know this?  None of her other kids were in the picture. 10. Seems likable enough when speaking.  Seems intelligent and comfortable in front of a lot of people.  She hadn’t met John McCain until a week or two ago - or so the reports say.  Kinda scary to think neither of them are familiar with one another. So, yes.  No way.  Never.  Though she is a woman, she doesn’t represent what I feel is important as a woman.  And judging by the comments on other blogs, the only women who like the choice are women who were going to vote for McCain anyway.  I just can’t see Pro-Choice women, agnostics, or atheists voting the Republican ticket - even if some are bummed out about Hillary Clinton.  To think - Supreme Court Justice Nominations with these two people.  Yeah, I’ll pass. In my female opinion … Palin ain’t so appealin’. Enough I took a break from my catch-up work to stay in touch with the Democratic National Convention last week.  My political leanings have varied over the years, which I figure is the natural course of things.  As I get older my perception changes and I re-fine (or re-define) my opinion on certain issues, but I generally stay close to “home”, meaning it’s rare for me to change my mind entirely on a given issues.  Rather, what seems to change is the degree to which I am willing to invest time and emotion into a given issue. As some of you know, the Obama Coupon represented VibeReview’s official support.  But I didn’t reveal my own thoughts on Obama, because I didn’t want to strain any existing relationships - both personal and professional, sometimes with the two mingling.  Strange as it may seem, I wanted to wait until the DNC to discuss political matters on this blog.  My hesitancy: I wanted to see substance and style, not rhetorical bravo alone - which I felt had been Obama’s main contribution during the primaries.  Of course, at no point did I consider voting for John McCain, a man who has proven himself incapable of truly understanding women - what motivates us, what appeals to us, what we really want, and how we want to live our lives. (I use “we” very loosely, I know.  I don’t intend to be the singular voice of all women, so please don’t be offended.  My only motivation in doing so is to share my own wants, wishes, and hopes that I know parallel so many other women’s hopes, dreams, wishes, and wants.) So, Obama sealed up my vote when Hillary Clinton lost in the primaries.  No, I have no lingering bitterness toward what happened during the primaries, as I don’t see such sentiments as being productive in the short-term or long-term.   At this point, during these uncomfortably dysfunctional times, I felt that I couldn’t waste my vote on an Independent Party.  Reform must come from within the two main parties, if this country is going to overcome current obstacles.  While the primaries proved upsetting, I did recognize some of Obama’s brilliance, eagerness, and desire to lead. Then I watched Obama’s speech. Impressed?  Inspired?  Grateful?  Humbled?  Excited?  Connected? All of those things and more.  I feel like I was smacked with a wake up call - not only as it pertains to my own individual actions, but also as it relates to participating in community affairs.  I can be better than I am without feeling bad about where I’ve been. This is huge. Breakthrough. Wild. I felt a sense of responsibility to my fellow citizens.  Probably for the first time in my life.  Don’t get me wrong, I am a failure on a daily basis if I don’t treat people with respect (even those who don’t deserve it).  I care about people.  But this was a new sense of purpose.  A calling, if you will.  Now I don’t want anyone thinking I’ve fallen off the sanity-wagon, because I am still obsessed with self.  (Sounds silly as hell to admit, but I suppose we are obsessed with self to an extreme.  Only, well, we may not realize it all the time.) Yes, I feel like I am obligated to myself and others, to say, as Obama did, “ENOUGH!”  Resonates with me, it really does.  No more, no longer, no way.  I hate campaign slogans, but the Democrats hit the jack pot this time around. My favorite new slogan: McSame.  And true as can be. Seeing that sea of people at the baseball stadium.  Remarkable. I enjoyed all the convention speeches.  Gore and Kerry and Biden and Hillary.  Even ol’ Mr.Cant’s Keep.His.Pecker.Tucked.Away President Clinton.  It was a great event that energized me. Did anyone else watch it?  If so, what did you think?  Agree or no?  And why or why not? I’m Back, I’m Bad, and I’m Tan How many of you missed me?  That many of you?!!  Well, I am back from my vacation to Puerto Rico.  Tanning than ever, more relaxed than I have been in years, and fully charged and ready to get down and dirty with whatever comes my way until the next vacation. Here are a couple of personal admissions and observations that smacked my brain during the trip: Most of my fears have no basis in reality - that is to say, I have no justification for fearing certain things.  Yet I am still plagued by the strangest fears in normal situations that produce an overwhelming anxiety in my mind and then my body. The combination of airplanes and flying freaks me out.  I hate flying.  Planes freak me out.  And I have no reasonable explanation as to why I have this dominating fear.  Every jerk, drop, or bounce - I start looking around at people’s facial expressions for comfort, the kind of body language exploration that will grant me a moment or two of serenity.  I’ll look for a nod of approval so that I can finally relax.  The whole “I know how you feel; I’ve been there” response without words. I eventually worked myself up on this short flight (like five or six hours) to the point that sleeping became my sole remedy.  I can’t figure out why I am afraid of flying, which is what bothers me the most.  I flew back and forth from my father’s city every Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthday, or any cause for celebration since I was a kid because my parents were divorced.  I never freaked out when I was younger, so this is a relatively new sense of emotional discomfort. Regardless, I made it through the flight.  There and back.  And now I am home bragging about how I managed to sleep my way into forgetting that I was thousands of miles in the air, high above deep oceans and massive cities.  Maybe this was a one time event (wrapped up into two flights) for me?  I’m not sure, but I hope that’s the case. While in Puerto Rico I refused to stay on the resort property.  I spent several hours each night sitting in the hot tub or swimming in the pool, but during the day I was out and about, mixing it up with the locals, who I found to be quite friendly and helpful.  Why go on vacation to another country and sit by a pool or hang out with people I could visit with in my own country?  I could have saved a lot of money by just staying in the US if that’s what I wanted. So, yeah.  I said screw that … I am going to snorkel, swim, eat, and whatever else with an unfamiliar culture.  Great, great experience.  The food, fantastic.  Loved every dish at each restaurant.  I even managed to force down squid and sea snails.  Yuck, right?  The stuff tasted wonderful.  Kinda like chicken with a rubbery texture.  I figured both would be somewhat slimy, but that wasn’t the case.  If you ever plan on visiting San Juan or Fejardo, I can help you find the best spots to eat at.  (Most of the better restuarants are expensive, so keep that in mind.) I took sex toys with me.  Several of my favorite vibrators, my favorite dildo, and of course, my lovely fella.  Lots of sex, several times a day.  I’m not the most exciting lover on most days, as I am so worn out with work.  I need to mix a little pleasure into my life, especially seeing as I am in the adult toy business.  It becomes all too easy to pull out a toy and please myself in a few minutes, whereas my guy is ready for a long night of sex and experimentation. Part of it is having the kids and working so many hours, but the other part, I think, is the saturation of sex-related themes in my work life.  I have a libido; I am … Well, I am lazy lover, or have been over the last 4-5 months.  This trip allowed me enough time and relaxation to really open up.  I was bad.  A bad, bad girl.  We had sex in the pool, hot tub, and on the beach.  Public sex!  I hadn’t done that in a long time, so it was an enthralling experience.  And the naughtiest of times in our room, which overlooked the ocean. My sex toys, too, were used in new and innovative ways that, for whatever reason, hadn’t ever occured possible. Trash.  I don’t consider myself to be the best environmentalist.  But - I get really upset about seeing trash everywhere.  I’ve been known to pick up my neighbors’ trash frequently, if only to keep my sanity within grasp.  If I see trash on the ground, even in the city, I pick it up.  I get so pissed off when I see trash laying on the ground.  In fact, it’s one of the few things that make me angry.  Puerto Rico is full of trash: cigarette buds are everywhere, beer cans on the beach, diapers sitting in the grass, wrecked car parts laying all over the street.  And in the ocean, I noticed all of these things and more (even a Halloween costume!) laying on the sandy bottom as I snorkeled. I fished out trash, threw it on the beach, and eventually put my new collection of discards in a trash can.  The locals watched me like I was crazy, wondering what the hell I was doing.  I couldn’t help myself, I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t walk or swim away with all that trash in the ocean.  And, most of all, I couldn’t understand why anyone would throw away his or her shit in the ocean or on the beach.  This happened at most of the beaches we frequented.  It was a sad, disgusting sight still bothering me. The resort itself wasn’t very clean, either.  When I mentioned this to the manager, he responded by saying, “This is a third world country.”  At which time, I asked him, “Is this a third world resort?  Because if it is, I need a third world hotel rate, because I significantly overpaid.”  He didn’t like that response, so he followed it up with, “It did rain several days ago and the river probably washed up most of the trash you are referring to.”  Again, I retorted, “Did the river wash tons of trash under my hotel room’s balcony?”  He took a few notes and said, “I will mention this to the general manager.” He wrote something down, but it had little to do with the trash we discussed. Small cars rock.  Sort of.  Don’t ever drive a big car or a truck in Puerto Rico.  The roads are surprisingly narrow and people do not slow down, so there were a few times that we barely managed to escape a collision.  The police officers drive with their lights on for no apparent reason.  People honk for no real reason at all. If you don’t like beggars coming up to your car in the city, you will dislike Puerto Rico, since locals flood each and every stop sign and traffic light, seeking free money or for drivers to purchase cold beverages or tropical fruit.  No one is rude or demanding, or expects anything.  It’s their version of business mingling in a society that lacks jobs, education, and overall economic advancement.  But this process works for them, as many people preferred to purchase beverages from their cars rather than pull over at a gas station. So, I had a great time, learned a lot about my fellow human beings and myself, and found enough time to mix in some sexy pleasure.  Plus all the lounging on the beach and snorkeling in the ocean.  Oh, and I found a massive conch shell and gigantic starfish on the Seven Seas Beach in Fejardo.  Both sea creatures were alive, which added a lot of excitement.  I plan on posting some pictures in the coming days - if I don’t get too behind with catching up. Hope everyone has been doing well. Who has time to count houses? Don’t mean to do political stumping, but I enjoyed this ad. Short but to the point. Dear MoveOn member, How many houses do you own? Most Americans could answer that question quite easily. But John McCain couldn’t remember yesterday when asked by reporters. It’s actually kind of ridiculous. He paused and said, “I think—I’ll have my staff get to you.”(1) The correct answer? At least seven.(2) This could be an election-defining moment—it’s a reminder of just how out of touch John McCain is with the lives of regular Americans. We need to make sure every voter hears about it. Barack Obama’s campaign responded today with a strong new TV ad. Can you take a moment to watch it, and then spread the word by forwarding this email to others? Click here to watch—you can also donate to his campaign if you like it: https://pol.moveon.org/give/mccainhouses.html?id=13538-6344829-gO8UWsx&t=1 This is just the latest reminder that John McCain doesn’t understand what most Americans are going through right now. It was recently reported that he wears $520 shoes on the campaign trail—more than some families pay each month for food or rent.(3) This past week, McCain and Obama were asked what constitutes “rich.” Obama said, “If you are making more than $250,000, then you are in the top 3, 4 percent of this country…You are doing well.” McCain answered, “I think if you’re just talking about income, how about $5 million?”(4) Sources: 1. “McCain unsure how many houses he owns,” Politico, August 21, 2008 http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0808/12685.html 2. “Mrs. McCain, San Diego County Would Like a Word,” Newsweek, July 7-14, 2008 http://www.newsweek.com/id/143775/ 3. “A Week In John McCain’s Shoes—His $520 Ferragamo Loafers, That Is,” Huffington Post, July 30, 2008 http://www.moveon.org/r?r=4077&id=13538-6344829-gO8UWsx&t=3 4. “Who’s rich? McCain and Obama have very different definitions,” Los Angeles Times, August 18, 2008 http://www.moveon.org/r?r=4078&id=13538-6344829-gO8UWsx&t=4 Chinese Olympic Fraud Don’t be surprised if this is the only place you hear about this: A new chapter in the ongoing controversy surrounding China’s women’s gymnastics team opened today, as search engine hacker stryde.hax found surviving copies of official registration documents issued by China’s General Administration of Sport of China. The incriminating documents, expunged by censors from the official site and from Google’s document cache, still appear in the document translation cache of Chinese search giant Baidu, here (1) and here (2), showing the age of one of China’s gold medal winning gymnasts to be 14 instead of 16, the minimum age for competition presented on her government-issued passport. The “bad” gene 30% of us inherently resist learning from our mistakes, apparently. “If there is one thing experts on child development agree on, it is that kids learn best when they are allowed to make mistakes and feel the consequences. So Mom and Dad hold back as their toddler tries again and again to cram a round peg into a square hole. [...] But not, it seems, all kids. In about 30 percent, the coils of their DNA carry a glitch, one that leaves their brains with few dopamine receptors, molecules that act as docking ports for one of the neurochemicals that carry our thoughts and emotions. A paucity of dopamine receptors is linked to an inability to avoid self-destructive behavior such as illicit drug use. But the effects spill beyond such extremes. Children with the genetic variant are unable to learn from mistakes. No matter how many tests they blow by partying the night before, the lesson just doesn’t sink in.” ‘Obama For President’ Discount The political calendar is full of boring retorts that have nothing to do with changing the country for the better. To liven up the situation, VibeReview decided to launch its new ‘Obama For President” Coupon this afternoon. If you want to save a few bucks during these trying economic times and you want to show some love for Obama, this is the right coupon for you. Obama For President Coupon You can use the 10% coupon over and over and over until election day. Not a bad deal at all. And apparently some Diggs are being thrown around: Obama and Vibrators The majority of the country went with “Wanted Dead or Alive” during the last election. Why not go with sex toys for equality. Sure, it’s not the catchiest idea in the world, but at least everyone is so busy pleasing him or herself (or each other) that we can’t cause too many problems. Staying busy, getting busy, and having fun - that’s the key. Sex Toys and Texas I’m not going to spend a whole lot of time discussing the ongoing battle between Texas politicians and religious groups versus sex toys, adult toy retailers, and people who enjoy a good buzz or two. Why does it matter what another person or couples do in the privacy of their home? If both individuals are consenting adults, the government shouldn’t have a say in his or her or their affairs. Apparently and thankfully, the law has spoken in agreement, since sex toys are now legal in Texas. Texas Attorney General Greg Abbott, though, seems determined to push his luck. Will he pursue this “cause” to the highest level? Seems Texas is finished with this debate and unless the Supreme Court wants to waste its precious time on plastic gizmos that give men and women pleasure, Texas might as well view itself as the Sex Toy State, with Alabama lagging behind. Mind you, the State of Texas now taxes topless bars to fund state services. Yes, purchasing a sex toy for private pleasures is obscene, wrong, and immoral - but we’ll tax the hell out of “titty” bars because state funds are running low! The hypocrisy is sickening. While I would never dream of being a topless dancer or owning that type of bar, I am fine with women and/or men choosing erotic dancing as their profession. If you want to dance for money and it works for you, who am I to tell you what is right or wrong? It might not be right for me, but that doesn’t mean it’s not right for you. My point is simple: the State of Texas wants to ride the back of a largely “public” sex-related industry, taxing it to replenish dwindling state funds, while at the very same moment ban a sex-related industry that focuses on providing women and men and couples with sex toys for their own “private” use. I assure you that a tax - oh, yes - a tax on sex toys is coming, as soon as Greg Abbott decides how far he wants to push this issue. We live in a country where health insurance and pharmaceuticals are afterthoughts for many people, because they simply cannot afford to take care of basic health concerns. A place where education of all forms, especially for K-12, is falling behind our competitors in the global economy. (Texas education is, without a doubt, lacking substance and performance.) A land where some man with a holy roller agenda can tell a woman what she should or should not do with her own body. A fairy tale creation where imaginary heroes and leaders can wage illegal wars through manipulating the public into agreement, with devilish lies and schemes. A wonderful place of freedom where politicians believe it’s alright for employers to discriminate against people of differing sexual orientations and gender issues. But you can bet your ass if they can’t eradicate what they view as “immoral” or “obscene”, they’ll tax the living hell out of it. Unless it is a corporate golf buddy promising campaign contributions and future vacation hot spots. (Just don’t go hunting with Dick Cheney - he’s a bad shot.) How is it that alcohol companies, tobacco companies, pharmaceutical companies, real estate and banking industries - yes, that they can cause whatever damage they want, to whomever they wish, without suffering extreme consequences? All made more insane by the fact that jerk offs like Greg Abbott waste state funds and taxes on attempting to ban sex toys! As if the State of Texas doesn’t have enough problems to deal with: drugs, violent crimes, hate crimes, death penalty, murder, rape, gangs, teenage pregnancy, poverty, poor educational infrastructure … all the important issues. /Rant Over Sex Toy Theft, Criminals, and Fallen Angels Consider the following Henry Morgan quote: A kleptomaniac is a person who helps himself because he can’t help himself. Sex toy thievery. Take the above quote and apply it to out of control sex toy fetishes. Want an example of someone sexing out beyond their means? Screw it, I’ll give you two recent examples of individuals who recently stole sex toys in the most bizarre of circumstances, in the strangest ways. I can’t remember sex toy theft being a major issue in the past, but with adult toys becoming mainstream sexual enhancement devices, I guess we will witness a revival of peculiar sex toy incidences. The first story: Man Pleads Guilty to Sex Toys Theft Daniel Edward Ray broke into three sex toy stores in Springfield, Illinois, back on January 24, 2008. He pleaded ‘no contest’ to the charges. His sentence hearing is scheduled for September, 2008. He used a baseball bat to bash in the windows of one sex toy shop and then, in all his brilliance, decided to use his car as battering ram for the other two stores. Dude was straight desperate to get his hands on some sex toys, and not just a few - but a lot of sex toys. His ex-girlfriend ratted him out to the cops, explaining that Daniel Edward Ray had a little something-something for sex stuff. [Who doesn't? But that doesn't mean the craziest of pervs are going to smash their car into the front doors and windows of the local sex shop.] The “sex toy bandit”, as the local press referred to him, was captured on surveillance cameras during his moment of passion, and left behind traces of blood and - get this - fingernails. At first he denied the allegations but certainly came around when the police showed him the evidence. He blames his methamphetamine addiction as the root of his troubles. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Or maybe the dude just has a thing for stealing strange shit. He was on parole for burglary at the time of sex toys theft, so he’s looking at hardcore jail time - which means, like, six months in jail. The second story: Pastor Succumbs to Psalm 69 Sexual Urges, Breaks Into Home, and Steals Woman’s Sex Toy and Lube On July 25, 2008, a South Carolina pastor, Scott Murray, broke into a woman’s home, raided her panty drawer, and stole one bottle of lube and an unidentified sex toy.  Felony burglary and larceny charges have been filed.  Repressed sexuality comes out in the strangest ways, yes?  Bizarre. Funny enough, this guy was part of the OUTREACH program. He stole a used sex toy, which reminds of the Used Sex Toy Listing on Craigslist that came out a few years back. Only this pastor was for real, whereas the listing was a complete hoax. I know some wild ass people and none of them would ever consider stealing a used sex toy, especially if it means breaking into someone’s home to get it. Why are the religious freaks the ones who are involved in more sexual scandals than anyone else? Repressed sexuality, I guess. All that pent up sexual energy screws with normal brain function. Shocked! Armageddon is here! Pastor surprises congregation with sex toy fetish: Bareback Sex: The New Engagement Ring Sex Without a Condom is the New Engagement Ring From NPR’s “What’s the new What?”: People in their early 20s have grown up with heightened awareness of HIV/AIDS, and the dangers of having sex without a condom. So Youth Radio’s Pendarvis Harshaw argues that when a couple decides to forego condoms, it’s a serious commitment…that’s replaced the engagement ring. Where the Chocolate Beats Incessant Once upon a time, in a past life, I was the ruler of a land of fire and filth.  From atop the highest volcano I would rule with a closed fist and issue forth murderous oaths into the blackest night.  The villagers below would pay tribute to me with gifts of cookies and other baked goods such as Frostbitten Molasses Cookies Entombed with Ginger.  These pleased me and I would reward the villagers by immolating a few of them with fire and lightning from my fingertips. \m/ Okay - if you’ve made it down this far, you’re probably pretty cool (or really bored) and worthy of bearing witness to The Black Oven. This site takes a healthy dose of the type of metal that is best known for cookie monster vocals and uses it to create delicious recipes. Enjoy Call of the Wintermoon Lemon Curd Cookies (best enjoyed while basking in the self-righteousness of your own obscurity) and Where the Chocolate Beats Incessant Brownies (nestled inside their dark, viscous hearts lies a sickening world of decadence). Stay Still, Ball Sack! Hi Kids!  Today we have a special treat.  Behold: Ed’s Furry Fucking Guide To Metal. Need Some ‘Naughty’ Satisfaction? Duh. How many times have you read “Free Sex Videos” while clicking, clacking your way from one website to another? Too many times. I know, I know: You are inundated by lame sex sites with hard-to-operate clips that, seriously, fail to load properly or end before you’ve hit the orgasm jack pot. But - all in all, despite your frustrations, you keep looking for that one directory site that has quality clips, previews, and movies. Am I going to shamelessly promote a “free sex video” directory site? You bet your hot buns, I am. I’m not going to promote just any ol’ porn site, though, because I care too much about my time, your time, everyone’s time recommending some shady directory that is nothing more than a link farm. I spend so much time at the computer that it’s impossible to avoid looking at naked women or men or both, so I am frequently aroused throughout the day and need some type of alleviation. Ah, yes! Internet porn - but only the free kind. (By the way, I loudly curse the world when I want to masturbate with porn and then, usually, find out: “Gosh, uh. So this link is taking me to four different sites and no damn video yet.” I stubbornly remove my hand from a once-wet vagina, for a one-hand-typing session to find the right porn site. No bueno, not at all - ever.) So, anyway, here is my new favorite Free Sex Video directory: Naughty You should visit this site for all your immediate porn needs. That’s what I’ve been doing recently, as much as I can. Chronic masturbator on the prowl. It’s too hard to resist losing myself on Naughty. The Daily Free Porn Videos section is a great starting place to browse new porn clips. (I have this thing for squirting, so I am constantly looking to see what new videos are uploaded!) Are you a junkie for celebrity sex news? Guilty. There’s plenty of that available, too. If you need your naughty celebrity fix, there’s plenty of it for your yearning eyes. I am taking comfort in knowing that I am not alone in my celebrity fixations, which is especially true of sexy celebrity news. Out of the closet, bare. Now you know. Are you going to laugh at me? Ugh times twenty-five. Adult Webcams Are they still popular, like really popular? Or are those days of computer-to-computer masturbation finished? I still remember my first sexual webcam experience. I wondered, “Am I acting too desperate? Shouldn’t I put up a fight, trying to resist the urge to see what it’s all about?” Then I came to my senses, unloaded my apprehensions, and got right down to business. I hadn’t done that in a while, not until I found Naughty’s Free WebCams. Real people doing wild ass things. In favor of it, always. It’s much better than watching some professionals do his or her thing (literally and figuratively), because the action seems to flow without any “this is fake” feelings. People just having a good time, trying to explore their voyeuristic tendencies. Check out Naughty when you get a chance. Take a break, watch some porn, and have a good time. You won’t solve problems of world peace, but at least you’ll get off while watching quality clips or an amateur’s webcam. The webmaster is a friend, so show him some love! Catalina Loves If your local pharmacy or shady convenience store is out of NoDoz, I know who is to blame. Blame Catalina. But don’t be too hard on her - she’s working her ass off to provide all of us with fantastic content to read and look at! She might as well own stock in the company. Her frenetic posting pace is unbelievable. And unbelievably effective, considering how Catalina never sacrifices quality for quantity. If you are looking for a blog with a variety of topics discussed, you should visit Catalina Loves. From in-depth sex toy reviews to fascinating interviews with the industry’s most unique performers, Catalina covers it all. Dependability is important. Why invest your energy and time into reading a blog that is rarely updated, leaves you hanging, or fails to deliver time and again? Rest assured, friends, you can depend on Catalina to share her opinions and thoughts every single day. Always fresh-fresh, as Outkast might say, her sheer topic diversity is enough to overwhelm a person. Check in everyday or you might miss something. A personal touch. With shades of professionalism. You get to experience the best characteristics of both worlds in each post when you visit Catalina Loves (or any of her many blogs). She’s not afraid to share herself with the world while at the same time maintaining an aura of mysteriousness. Naughty. Playful. Sexy. Humble. Dedicated. Erotic. Fuckingdownrightentertaining. Our Orgasmic Scale: Are you serious? How does one measure this kind of perfection? The flood gates are bursting open. Open your mouth, close your eyes, moan-to-a-scream - it’s going to be a gusher this time around. Dual orgasm with goddess fluids watering the entire room! The Beautiful Kind Save-Me-From-Myself Medicine. You need it, you want it, you crave it. If only to escape those annoying societal imposed labels. Unlearn everything. Forget about your daily concerns one damn post at a time. Problem is, the Blogger Highway is full of hyperbolic self-deprecation and glorified shock value that creates and supports a I-Am-Serious-About-Not-Being-Serious mentality that comes off as hallow and forced. Blah, boring. A real fuck-stick read on a bad day. Trudge, baby. Trudge. The search is on, then off. For the a quality blog that infuses serious sexual discussions and humor - but none of that overextended humor, the kind that confuses invective language as satirical commentary. No reason to belittle individuals when you can shame his or her ideas. There is a difference, a big difference. So, it’s time to take your medicine, to leave all your worries behind - to genuinely laugh at yourself for all the right reasons, differentiating between your silly opinions and who you are as a person. Your medicine: The Beautful Kind Consider this introduction on a recent post: If I had to list the three things I hate most in life, poop would be #1 or #2 (crocs would be in the top 5, Ann Coulter, top 10). From the sounds of people’s comments on this post from last week, poop is on their, um, shit list, too. I laughed out loud the first time I read it. The word POOP itself reminded me of how I feel while sitting on a porcelain throne and someone is watching me. I’ve had those boyfriends who would barge into the bathroom while I am taking care of business. Always, always I feel sort of self-conscious - similar to how I feel when my dog takes a crap in my neighbor’s front yard and he witnesses the glorious event. Plus, including Ann Coulter in a poop discussion seems rather appropriate. Gems. Snatch ‘em when you see them. The Beautiful Kind might as well be a gold standard for adult blogging. Check out some of the comments after each post. Funny shit, people. Ask The Slut is your Hot for Teacher section of the blog. (I am a recovering Van Halen fan. Sue me.) The Slut doesn’t hold back, but will hold your hand as she guides you toward the truth (her viewpoint). People send her all kinds of questions - some of a more serious tone while other questions are playful. The best part is that The Slut knows when to attack, when to relax, and how to proceed without violently shoving someone over that fragile mental edge. This is the kind of discussion that you wanted from your 250.00 Quack-Ass-Shrink. Best of all, The Beautiful Kind is updated frequently with new posts, images and comments, and the environment (from posts to comments) is friendly. It’s the kind of blog that appeals to women and men of all sexual orientations and experience levels. Our Orgasmic Scale: The Beautiful Kind earns a Dual Orgasm of the greatest magnitude. Enjoy this G-spot and clitoral orgasm for as long as you can. Your can’t muffle these moans. Why would you want to? Coming Soon: The George W. Bush Sewage Plant Ballot Box satire gives Bush the respect he deserves They want to rename the Oceanside Water Pollution Control Plant the George W. Bush Sewage Plant come January, when the next president is sworn in. During the inauguration, the group also wants supporters to participate in a “synchronized flush” — a way to send a gift to the renamed plant, which supporters say, would be a “fitting monument to this president’s work.” It sounds like a harmless joke, or maybe a college civics lesson gone awry. But they have already collected 8,500 signatures in support of the plan - 1,300 more than the minimum needed to put the question to city voters in November. The biggest opposition in this Democratic stronghold, McConnell said, is people who oppose naming anything after the 43rd president. Officials at the San Francisco Public Utilities Commission, which owns the plant, say they get the humorous intent. But they note that the plant is an award-winning facility that keeps the city’s streets and the ocean clean. “If you are looking for a place to make a negative statement about the Bush administration’s impact on the environment, this would be the last place to do it,” agency spokesman Tony Winnicker said. Vaginal Douching: An Itch Away from Perfection Indoctrinated. Female products, everywhere. Not all are bad. In fact, many are useful. What about vaginal douche products? Is vaginal douching this important? After all, since you were kid, you’ve been exposed to vaginal douche products at your local drugstores and grocery markets. The sheer volume of products must mean vaginal douching is important - or at least has some value or contributes something positive to female hygiene. Right? Only if a doctor views it as a treatment, in which she or he will give you specific instructions about what product to use, how frequently, and for how long. Even then, ladies, you should ask your doctor why he’s recommending douching and if there is another alternative. Here are a few facts about douching: 1. A “bad” vaginal odor can be covered up by douching, but the cause of the bad odor has not been addressed; thus, this is only a temporary solution to a potentially serious problem - maybe a bacterial infection, urinary tract infection, yeast infection, or an STD. A foul odor originating from your vagina is your body’s way of saying, “Pay attention to me! Something isn’t right. Go to the doctor!” - unless you refuse to wash your vagina on a regular basis, which is remedied by - well, taking a warm shower and using paraben-free and glycerin-free soap. Contrary to what myths people spread about vaginal odor, even the healthiest vaginal environment has its own unique odor. 2. Your vagina has its own natural cleansing system that produces mucous to flush out blood, semen, and vaginal discharge. After douching, women wash away important vaginal flora that helps regulate the acidity levels. As this acidity level increases or decreases, straying from the natural balance maintained by vaginal flora, bacteria levels increase - which leads to infections and other female problems. More harm than good, and only for temporary fixes. 3. Ladies: Douching does not prevent the transmission of STDs. This is a myth, if believed factual, that leads to serious consequences. There are many women who believe they can wash away the potential danger of last night’s sexual intercourse. No, no, no. Abstinence is the only 100% effective way to prevent STDs. Condoms, of course, are the next best method. Safer sex, which doesn’t include douching. Some studies are being conducted to see if douching might actually make it easier to get an STD, as the vagina’s natural acidity level is compromised - which makes it more difficult for the vagina to fight off infections. Could it be that short-term or long-term douching leads to an even greater risk of catching STDs? Stay tuned for more information on this issue. We’ll let you know when more information is available. 4. Pregnancy. No, douching does not prevent pregnancy. Again, abstinence or safer sex is the way to go. Though some studies suggest that regular douching does effect the time-frame in which a women gets pregnant (usually takes longer than women who do not douche), douching should never be used as a birth control method. Ectopic pregnancies, also, have been linked to women who douche on a regular basis. No way, no how - Not gonna happen. The potential risks are far greater than the reward. (I am still trying to figure out what those rewards are - beyond the obvious “odor cover up.”) If you notice these things, you should visit a doctor and stay away from douching: 1. Bad odor 2. Thick white-yellowish and/or green discharge 3. Burning, redness, stinging, or vaginal swelling (external/internal) 4. Uncomfortable or painful when urinating or during intercourse Many women have been led to believe that the above symptoms are justifiable reasons to douche. That’s backward thinking. You want to address the causes of the above symptoms, not merely cover them up, which requires that you visit a doctor for examination, to see if these symptoms are caused by serious problems. In our commercialized culture, these “quick fixes” seem to be legitimate solutions to common and uncommon problems. More sex education is required to combat the many myths associated with douching, specifically as it relates to birth control and STDs. Personal Touch: I used to douche. Yep. I started out douching in high school. I wanted to be “fresh” for my boyfriend. Not that he pressured me or anything. He probably didn’t even know what a douche was or why I would do it. I didn’t really know why I did it. Part of it, I believe, had something to do with my perception of womanhood, or what it meant to have finally “arrived” as a sexually active female - that douching is what you did, as if sex and douching went together like peanut butter and jelly. You have sex, you douche, and then have sex again. I didn’t believe it prevented STDs or pregnancy, but I did believe douching was a female’s responsibility to her man and herself. To keep a clean, clean vagina - that was the goal. After douching off and on for several years, my vagina started itching. My solution: Douche more. Finally, I went to the doctor and found out, to my surprise, that douching can lead to yeast infections, which is exactly what I had. It took me a long time to get my vagina back to its natural acidity level, and there’s no way in hell, maybe even if a doctor recommends it, that I’ll douche again. I’ve gone through a similar phase with water lubes that contain irritating formulas, mostly those lubes that contain fragrances. I’ll discuss water lubes in more detail later this week. If you’d like to read more about vaginal douching and safer sex, please visit these links: MedicineNet.com About.com Planned Parenthood not dead yet So apparently there’s been an epidemic of STDs going around retirement communities and nursing homes. Speculation has led to two sources: availability of Viagra; and a lack of sexual education, namely post-menopausal women thinking they don’t need to use protection. More. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven… As soon as the order comes - day or night - eight farmers will rush to a battery of 37mm anti-aircraft guns installed in a courtyard in the village of Beixing. Four will carry the shells to the guns, two will load them and two will take aim and open fire at the enemy in the sky. Their mission is to protect the honour of a nation. But their targets are not fighter jets or bombers; they are the rain clouds and smog that threaten to spoil the Beijing Olympics. More… Confession Charles Bukowski waiting for death like a cat that will jump on the bed I am so very sorry for my wife she will see this stiff white body shake it once, then maybe again “Hank!” Hank won’t answer. it’s not my death that worries me, it’s my wife left with this pile of nothing. I want to let her know though that all the nights sleeping beside her even the useless arguments were things ever splendid and the hard words I ever feared to say can now be said: I love you. David Bowie Trumps (Insert Name Here) Reasons why: - Masterful musical, fashion, and cultural adaptation for every period since 1969 - Never sacrificed quality for quantity and image concerns - But was able to merge quality, quanity, and image without compromising his art - Refuses to represent anyone besides himself - Clever, creative, sophisticated, and dedicated - Lyricist, musician, performer (acting and musical), and avant garde specialist Internal brilliance meeting physical, mental, and verbal expression: - “Life on Mars” - “Ziggy Stardust” - “Starman” - “Golden Years” - “Young Americans” - “Slip Away” - “The Man Who Sold The World” - “I’m Afraid of Americans” - “Under Pressure” w/ Queen - “Queen Bitch” - “Let’s Dance” With the ever-growing dependence on manufactured pop acts, it’s nice to remember some of the true artists.  Without the assistance of statistic-driven image creation, Bowie managed to define himself with as an authentic talent.  Cheers, dude. Time for another tour! Closest Musical Relative: Trent Reznor Fraudulent Bowie Opportunist: Marilyn Manson Equally Talented: Prince A Wake to Remember This is a true story, I promise.  A strange anecdote to follow.  It’s so socially awkward and silly that I am inclined to convince you of its authenticity.  I almost feel like what happened was a fictitious event that I created in my head.  Like one of those days when imagination replaces boredom and goes into bewildering territories, where insecurities - the deepest rooted fears - mingle with idealized events, creating imaginary challenges that one can overcome without ever taking any action.  Anyway - check this story out: Is there anyone else who has an appreciation of funerals for old people?  Just say, “Yes, of course!  I can’t think of a more lively event!”  You liar.  I am the only person, as far as I can tell, who has this peculiar fondness of old people’s funerals.  There’s something special about celebrating an old person’s life, because he or she actually lived through so much - starting with diapers and eventually, as the cycle goes, ending up in diapers. “Gross!” you might respond.  Yeah, I agree a return to diapers is life’s version of ego-demolition; but this notion of coming full circle is a remarkable feat, one that deserves recognition and celebratory gestures. So, yes: I get all emotional and introspective and focused at these old-timers events, and I cannot handle a lot of person-to-person communication.  Dagnabbit, please don’t bother me with superficial commentary at an old person’s funeral - I am likely to bite your head off, kick you in the crotch, and while you lay on the ground grimacing in pain, my authoritative fingers incessantly waves.  Hint: Not right now, fella.  I should be more courteous to my fellow mourners, I know it.  Then I realize that the funeral isn’t about me, but is dedicated the old man or woman that can truly boast of MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!  I MADE IT, FUCKERS!  Lordy Be, I need to get with the program. All of this, a serious digression that’s probably left you scratching your head.  I’m not done yet, stick with me, keep reading - this damn story is coming … NOW! My great-great aunt died a month ago.  I hadn’t seen my mother in several months, so we figured the funeral would be a great excuse to meet up in Dallas, Texas, where I am originally from.  Our motives, pure - we also wanted to pay respect to this amazing lady that I didn’t know very well.  Any relative with a “great-great” distinction is usually too old, or too far removed from my life, for me to know with any real significance.  I spent, probably, a total of 3-4 days (an aggressive hourly total) with Great-Great Aunt Ellen - and that’s it, like in my entire life.  But like I said earlier, I enjoy funerals for old people.  I was game, ready for the momentous occasion, and hell-bent on catching some glimpse of self-truth in all of this. Finally.  Time for the wake, which was done with an old school twist - at my great-great aunt’s last place of comfort, her lovely house in the Forest Hills neighborhood near White Rock Lake, in East Dallas.  (If you have sinus problems, stay far away from this area.  You were warned!)  The problem with at-home wakes is that all the family members are packed into fairly small areas, so it’s tough to avoid boring conversations with your second generation cousin, who was recently released from the city jail - having served his “time” for intentionally pissing on his boss, who was having a long conversation with corporate about said cousin’s petulant behavior in the work environment. Yes, this is absolutely a true story.  I keep pinching myself, praying I imagined the whole thing.  But - it gets worse.  Not understanding the concept of personal boundaries, Steve, my second generation cousin, tells me the story in its entirety - how he was “pissed off” at his boss for cutting his hours at the local pet shop store.  So he pissed on his boss, the only appropriate measure he could think of.  It didn’t help that his mind, soiled by two nights of chemically-inspired fun, wasn’t exactly ticking with the rest of the clocks on the wall, but this guy - wow, he seemed convinced that justice was served, bringing new literal interpretation to the idea of “It’s better to get pissed off than pissed on.” He got two weeks of jail time when the district attorney office viewed the pissing match as a type of bodily assault. About the time that Steve started describing his cell mates, my mother inched toward the living room.  We hadn’t arrived together, so this was the first time I saw her at the wake.  I quickly interrupted Steve, waving at my mother - the code signal for Get! Your! Ass! Over! Here! - while at the same time validating poor Steve, confirming that I related to his perilous fight against The Man.  Unfortunately, my mother remembered Steve from his earlier years, I guess, when he had curly red hair and a habit of grabbing, scratching his ass without concern for his surroundings.  My mother, I tell you.  She mentioned this in front of Steve while I was standing there, and the poor guy, having been through enough recently, smiled and started waving at someone across the room.  He knows the drill: escape! “Did I say something upsetting, Heather?” “No, mother.  You only embarrassed the hell out of guy with an already declining self-esteem.  The Man’s got him down, but I suspect after all of this, he’ll include The Woman on his life’s list of resentments.  Other than that, I think he appreciated the ’scratching ass’ comment.” “Everyone, dear - and I mean, everyone - has those quirky habits as a child.  Maybe not “Wait a damn minute, Mom.  Not here, not now, not ever.  Imagine if someone heard you!  My God.  Seriously.  Why?” “I see, I see.  Miss Sex Toy Reviewer seems to be ashamed of her early childhood sexual exploits.  You do realize that all children explore genitalia, trying to see what those ‘things’ are down there? You of all people - the sex toy expert - should know how natural it is.  So Steve grabbed and scratched his ass during the same phase of development.  All natural.  Your children will do the same thing.” Fuck sakes.  At this point, I might wave at Steve to come back and tell me about his baby’s mama or his collection of fingernails, hidden in a tin can buried in the backyard. (Oh, and if you haven’t figured it out yet, the “putty” my crazy mother mentioned - well, that’s my kitty-kitty.  My mother hates the word “vagina”, so she made up this strange word to replace it.) “Fine.  I get it.  By the way, you haven’t told anyone that I review sex toys, right?  I asked you to keep that a secret, so if you did … I am going to be super-bitchy pissed at you.” “I may have told a few people, but no one of importance.  I think it’s funny, and there’s nothing wrong with it - so what does it matter?  Most women play with some kind of sex toy.  Hell, my first vibrator was the nifty massager shower nozzle in my bathroom.  Younger people always assume that parents don’t have a sex life. “I am going to puke.  Thanks for that.  Too much information, mother.  And you sure are flaunting this information rather loudly, don’t you think - as if this is the usual conversation held at a WAKE!” My mother blankly stared at me, as if she could see beyond my response.  That’s what happens when your mother is a well-known shrink.  Analyze, analyze.  I could tell she was convinced that I was being too dramatic and my response must be symptomatic of something deeper, dirtier - like a real secret. Body language, which my mother has mastered,  is more effective than verbal communication. “Clock out, Mom.  Off the job training, unnecessary.” She ignored the comment, turning her head and walking into the room of all rooms, the one with the casket.  Right as a person’s foot crossed the invisible line separating the living room from my great-great aunts bedroom, the collective disposition changed - in dramatic ways, too.  The loud squawkers, incessant talkers suddenly listened to an internal voice that screamed, “Shut the hell up.  For a minute at least, to pay respects.”  A rhythmic shuffling of feet, echoed in the room.  Mixed in with some deep breaths. My mother was directly in front of me, starting to lean over the casket when Steve bumped his way to the front, and then, unbelievably asked me: “I hear that you are some kind of sex worker.  Or that you do something with sex toys.  I’d like to talk to you about my girlfriend before you leave.  Please, don’t leave until we’ve talked.  This is really, really fucking import - “ “Steve.  Look, right now is not the appropriate moment to discuss my profession, habits - really anything unrelated to the funeral.  Maybe you could emai - “ “I understand.  There’s no reason to be embarrassed.  No one cares what you do for a living, not in a bad way.  I could use your expertise, in the worst way possible - I mean, good way.  Whatever, you know what I mean.” “Are you sure we are related, Steve O?  Because if we are, my genetic composition is seriously tainted.  Fuck, fine.  We can talk AFTER! the wake and funeral.” It seems that my mother, who had sipped three too many drinks before attending the wake, told my Aunt Jackie about my sex toy reviews.  Screwed.  Cooked.  Done.  My Aunt Jackie is our family’s very own Perez Hilton.  Mouth always moving, sometimes exposing morning’s breakfast, with sprays of excited spit traveling from the speaker’s mouth to the listener’s unwelcoming eyes - Yes, that’s my sweet Aunt Jackie releasing the caged gossip queen. Wrong person to reveal that kind of information.  Before I knew it, even Steve, the social outcast, had the 911 on some of my personal activities.  Wonder-fucking-ful.  And it didn’t help that Steve made no effort to conceal his opportunistic agenda.  My poor great-great Aunt that I barely knew.  I blame my mother, Aunt Jackie and Steve - plus the rest of those busy-bodied family members, who were - I swear - looking at me differently than they had when I first arrived at the house.  Or was I being paranoid?  Not sure, but that’s how I felt. What did Steve ask me?  I wouldn’t know.  After the funeral I booked it out there.  I didn’t say a word to anyone.  I called an old high school friend, explained the situation, and told her to pick me up at the stop sign.  I left my rental car for my mother to drive.  (She arrived at the funeral with … You guessed it!  My Aunt Jackie.) Somehow I felt guilty because of these jerk offs running their collective mouths at the wrong time.  I felt kinda dirty inside - not because I do review sex toys, but because I related to yesterday’s biological waste.  Am I being too judgmental? Free shit. I just got back from LA where I was at another of those cheesy trade shows for VibeReview.  Overall, it was successful as far as these things go, but the one item relevant to your interest is this: We have finally managed to get deals set up with toy manufacturers to get significantly larger quantities of sample items.  This makes a whole new range of stuff possible.  I’m thinking everything from contests to full-on sex toy parties.  Last year we sponsored Camp Beaverton for Wayward Girls at Burning Man, but I’m thinking we might be able to do something even bigger now.  Stay tuned, and if you have any ideas write them on a small sheet of paper, fold in half, and deposit in the box below. Late Nights with Navin R. Johnson Father: “You see that?” Navin: “Yeah.” Father: “That’s shit. And this, “shinola.” Navin: “Shit, shinola.” Father: “Son, you’re going to be all right.” (Navin immediately steps on a warm pile of horse crap) If only more parents and teachers taught their children the basics!  Forget everything else you’ve learned.  Don’t waste your time trying to capture another person’s voice and make it your own.  No, create your own voice, one that’s founded on your very own personal experiences.  Be warned only that “shit and shinola” is out there, and you need to watch out for it.  Someone’s shit might be your shinola.  Conversely, your shit might be someone’s shinola. Mr. Johnson (Navin’s father) might as well be a distant relative to one of my favorite philosophers, Rousseau: “People who know little are usually great talkers, while men who know much say little.” Keep it simple, stupid.  And even then, sure - you might step in a little shit, but keep walking, wash off your boots, and get ready to step in some more.  After while, you’ll step over the shit when you recognize it! Silence is Sexy So I’m listening to Flugufrelsarinn by Sigur Rós, covered by the Kronos Quartet in an arrangement by Clint Mansell.  I highly approve of this sort of thing.  But why is it that whenever anything is recorded in a concert hall, some dicknose keeps coughing or sniffing or farting or shuffling his feet or whatever?  Seriously, don’t these people know where they are?  Didn’t they see all of the signs letting them know that they would be recording?  Or do they just not care, preferring to have their every sniffle immortalized in the recording? Also, very related: check out the cover of Radiohead’s Exit Music done by Miranda Sex Garden. what’s your fetish? Sex and Violence Is sex itself an act of violence?  Not the kind of violent violence, the kind seen in action movies - but something more archaic, basic, and elemental.  An appealing sort of violence.  The idea of anything penetrating something else is - well, you know, violent.  Especially as it pertains to a first sexual encounter, when two bodies share sacred space for the first time.  (Both in terms of being literally a “virgin” or two sexually experienced individuals sharing one another for the first time - both situations are violent in so much as any new experience is sort of violent, kinda chaotic.) Of course, my more exploratory friends who adhere to a strict BDSM lifestyle might have a different perspective on this issue, primarily focusing on the battle between control and submission.  I’m not an expert on BDSM-anything, so I’ll let the experienced women and men fill in the blanks for me.  Is BDSM a violent lifestyle, based on destroying and then re-creating an individual?  How much does sex have to do with it? All I know is that everytime I have sex (with a man or woman or multiple partners), I get this fleeting-returning-fleeting feeling that this gorgeous act of violence is transforming me - either for better or worse.  I admit that entertaining this realization excites me.  I recently admitted the feeling to myself as I orgasmed, and it ended up being one of the most emotionally charged climaxes I’ve ever experienced.  Drenched in sweat, experiencing slight vaginal soreness mixing with post-orgasmic shivers and shakes, I knew my perception of sex had changed - probably for the better.  I smiled, pleased with myself - pleased with my partner (technique and size do matter, fellas).  Penetrated, pleased, and partnered.  Yes, a violent act creating a new me. Caffeinated Coffee. 8 out of 10 people have to have their daily fix to start the day. Whether it is a nutmeg latte, a double espresso or a simple morning brew, these are the ones whose eyes shine the moment the first sip is ingested. Long queues. Synonymous with everywhere and (almost) everything. A national pastime, it seems. People either queue alone, with friends, a book, or their iPods. Whatever it is, queueing has become a somewhat necessity that we take times like these to be alone with our thoughts, or books, or music. In a society like ours, it is rare that anyone would start a conversation with the stranger in front of, or behind you just for the sake of it. But who knew that when you put the two together, the unexpected happens. And all it took was a morning latte. Back. I’m back on another blog. If you were a previous reader and is still interested in what I have to say about the world I live in, drop me an email and I’ll reciprocate with a link.