On Female Masturbation, Faking Orgasms,& The Psychology of Sex

[Steff note: This posting began as an attempt for me to try and explain a little why women should act out loud when they're masturbating in the privacy of home -- thrusting, grabbing at their breasts and ass, grunting, whatever it takes... but it got a lot deeper and a lot bigger than just a posting on that -- and has to do with women faking orgasms, being vocal during sex, and the psychology of sex. See? Something to chew on.]

Enjoying sex is all about learning to let go. It's difficult for both sexes for different reasons.

Men, they have the pressure to perform and the demands of making their partner come before they do. It's all about being hard, large, and getting it done in the right order. (No wonder so many opt for safe routines.)

Women, we have to get past all the bullshit that clutters the way between us and the fabled thing of glory, the orgasm. It's a hard journey and it's why some women--far too many, really--will always struggle with orgasms.

Guys want the one go-to it move that'll get a chick off every single time. I thought I heard the Hallelujah chorus when I was young and heard a bunch of guys discussing the g-spot, like it was a sure-thing orgasm trick. But, in reality, most of them had probably never found it, and their girlfriends have likely all faked an orgasm just to get it over and done with.

Yes, guys, we've probably all done it. Yes, it's happened to you. I don't care if you're Brad Pitt, a woman has faked an orgasm on you.

Because, sometimes, it's just easier because we know our body isn't going that way, and we don't want you to think it's you. And we don't want you to keep trying, because then you (unwittingly?) make us feel like we're the damaged goods. So, we fake it. And you know, deep down inside, you sometimes appreciate that we do.

So, I got to thinking: If pretty much every woman has faked an orgasm, why can't more of them use theatrics during masturbation?

Here's the thing. If sex is about letting go, and most women face problems of inhibitions, baggage, religious issues, and/or breaking free from society's constraints for a few wild moments behind closed doors, then why not just force yourself to cut loose a little more during masturbation?

It worked for me. More on that later.

Allow me to digress here for a second. Quiet sex is all well and good, but if you can make a little noise, you should. By being vocal during sex -- I'm not saying you have to shout -- but by being vocal during sex, you tap into a more primal place psychologically. Don't dismiss the headtrip of sex; getting into the mode and allowing yourself to get primal, however you define that, is essential to really getting something out of sex.

On that note, remaining quiet keeps you more internalized. Besides that, it limits the amount of sharing. You grunt, groan, gasp, shudder, whimper... All of those things contain very readable signs for a lover. They don't need a megaphone, they don't even need words. It all says so much. Plus, it's amazing what some good rhythmic grunting can do to heighten the arousal... when it's coming from you. And it typically excites men much, much more... and considering the challenge of owning a penis, that's sometimes a pretty nice helping point.

Hell, I was one of those quiet-in-sex girls until I was about 30 or so, and I couldn't believe how much more bang for my orgasm buck I was getting when I was getting vocal during sex. Much better result. I live in a wood-framed building, so I'm not some banshee or anything, but I'm no mute, either. Find the level that works for you, it's not about volume. It's about expression, expression of how you really feel, but without having to put words to it, all right? But words sure as hell don't hurt. (Usually.)

So this exercise is all about that. Masturbating, for women who have no sex toys kicking around, doesn't often involve a lot of inspired imagining when it comes to the idea of a guy inside her. That's a very difficult sensation to imagine in the mind's eye. Visualize it, yeah. Identify with its feeling, no. Clearly the girl in this underwear ad had no such struggle.

I think the trick is, you have to grunt or gasp or moan or whatever you like to do, in the cadence that you wish you were thrusting with someone. You know, "Oh... oh... oh! Oh..." It helps flick the switch in your mind and helps fool you ever so briefly that you're transcending from fantasy to reality, and it gets a little bit hotter. Especially if you mimic the thrusting action at the same time. Grabbing your breast never hurts, either. No, really.

Until you're able to get past your bullshit enough to grunt and moan aloud to yourself when no one's going to see or know, you're never, ever going to let down enough of your guard and reservations to really have some experiences with your lovers.

There are different places you can come from when you're being sexual, and some of them are pretty unbelievable, and you don't get there by being timid in bed or afraid to express yourself. There's sex, and then there's the mindblowing sex you always file away as a go-to image for masturbation down the line, and for that kind of sex, you need to lose your hang-ups.

Being a good (and confident) lover takes practice and the courage to try moves and techniques blind. It involves studying. It involves curiousity. And it really involves having a voice and knowing not only what you like... but how you like it.

That's why we masturbate. We masturbate because, well, getting off feels fantastic and shouldn't have to wait until we're a party of two, but we also should be masturbating so we can sort of take notes on what blew our mind best. It's how we're able to tell a lover what part needs to be nibbled or toyed with, and where what should go.

Why we expect that lovers should just magically know how to make us orgasm I'll never understand. You wouldn't show up to a wardrobe stylist, tell them to dress you, but not give them any information about you, your life, your job, or your preferences, would you? So why won't we tell our lovers what we want?

Masturbation's the research process through which you can do that. Of course, they can and will bring their mix to the equation, but since it's your body, you should at least give them an orientation now and then.

Practice, grasshopper. In fact, what are you doing? Go download some porn or something. Idle hands are the devil's playthings, they say. Don't be idle.

For the women out there who are more expressive in their masturbation:
Were you always? When you became that way, did it change sex for you? How?

All Wound Up and No One to Spring On

A storm is brewing. The air is thick, heavy, clinging,and almost chewy. Now and then a salt-laden breeze sweeps through my apartment, bringing a fragment of relief. And then it goes away, and all that's left is this ominous forbearance of a change about to rain down on us, literally.

I love when a storm comes at the end of a heat wave. A thick wall of humidity is just cut through with sudden winds and rain, when we're lucky with lightning. It's nature's equivalent of that intense tension that sometimes builds between a couple -- whether that oppressive bad tension or that sizzling hot tension, doesn't matter -- and can only get broken by some good animalistic sex that doesn't include "please" or "thank you" or small talk.

Sigh. Aside from the heat wave about to shatter, and with it this sticky clingfilm that seems to envelope me, I'm just generally hot and bothered these days anyhow. It's that time of the month, so I'm amped on hormones, but I also had to spend a couple eight hour days last week working on sexual programming for TV at work, which can be bothersome and troubling when you're in a well-lit office with lots of people. It's an inappropriate time to get "into" your work, you know?

So, I've been eating tonnes of chocolate this week. That's just great for the diet. Booze and chocolate, en masse, for several days. I'm chalking it up as an unholy convergence of a few sources of arousal over several days that have left me very sexually wound. A little too tightly so.

But I've been able to cash in and order some sex toys...

Yeah, I'm thinking the best thing that could happen for my diet right now is sex toys. Okay, well, getting laid would be nice, but that's another dilemma altogether and we'll just leave that for another little chat, shall we?

Sex toys: Easy to adapt to, easy to incorporate into my life, and I'll always get the last word, and get it exactly how I like it. Right? Yes, there you go.

I have no good sex toys right now. THAT's my problem. Ain't that I'm not getting laid, it's that masturbation has gotten boring. Bring on the multi-speed. That's what I say. I mean, there's only so much your poor little hand can do, right?

Sex toys are something we all should have. Too bad we see them as being such an extravagance. I've been wondering the last few days how much of my road rage and periodic grumpiness could be mitigated by some serious shagging. Or maybe I just need more chocolate. Shagging burns calories, though, as opposed to parking them on my already-ample ass.

See? This is why we need the sex toys. Because too much chocolate could ensure increased difficulty in the getting-laid capacity if it keeps appearing on one's ass. Sleeping around is dangerous. Sex toys are safe, provided they're cleaned properly and all that fun stuff.

This is exciting. Within a week I'll be motoring my way to happier, more interesting orgasms. Gee, life just gets better all the time. Yes, of course I'll share my experiences with you. I may be doing very regular sex toy reviews, actually. Let's all keep our fingers crossed.

Being well-adjusted and even-tempered could actually loom in my life. Ludicrous, yes, but seemingly entirely possible! And all due to the fun of sex toys. Well, well. Yet another great thing about the internet.

Inspired? Have a lookie here at Vibe Review, where I'll be getting my toys. Splash-proof!

Funny enough, I'm editing this thing now and a few flashes of lightning have since devoured the humidity, and everything's cooling off all of a sudden. Fantastic. :)

Quickie: Trouble at the Whorehouse

Oh, minions, minions... what cruel beast has wreaked the wrath of morning upon me? Why must work loom?

WRONG. That's what working for a living is. Wrong. One of these days the spirit in the sky's gonna get the memo where I asked for a stretch of private beach in Bali with a cute pool boy playing lapdog and bringing me drink after drink and newspapers. Working for a living is so uncouth. I'd be so good at a life of slack.

But at least I not only have a job, but a cushy, easy job of watching television. The good thing about recessions is, you can always count on people eating, and watching television. So my job's secure.

Which is not really what you can say to some of the fine women plying the world's oldest profession down in the great state of Nevada.

Sadly, the Nevada Brothel Owner's Association is admitting they've been hurt something awful by the new economy and the crippling gas prices. Even truckers just can't find the coin to get shagged roadside anymore.

Times they are a-changin', friends. The brothels, of course, are thinking outside the sex-filled box, and coming up with creative ways to jog their businesses. According to CNN:

Under a promotion under way at the Moonlite BunnyRanch near Carson City, the first 100 customers who arrive with government stimulus checks receive twice the services for the same regular price.

"We're calling it double your stimulus," said BunnyRanch owner Dennis Hof. "The brothel industry is having to get more creative just like all consumer products in America. Everybody has got to deal, and we're doing the same thing."

Twice the services, hey? Very nice. But strangely out of keeping with a government cheque.

You can read the rest of the story here.

Tomorrow, I'll feed you something new. Come back then.

I AM CANADIAN! Happy Canada Day!

It's Canada Day! Yay! Canada! Happy Canada Day, my fellow Canucks.

I love my country. Love my country! I hate my period cramps I'm suffering through right now, but I love my country.

Tonight I'll be at a concert after I feed my friend and I. Today, I hope to pop by Value Village to see if they've any affordable clothes to fit my budget. Fingers crossed.

If you're in Vancouver today, and haven't done it before (I have), make sure you swing by the Cannibis Day festivities down at Robson Square. Hey, you can smoke a joint AND chat with the cops at the same time. No, really, a surreal headtrip I recommend everyone as they're there only to direct traffic. :) Or if you're out in the 'burbs, go check out the always-awesome WIL at the Golden Spike Days in Port Moody for free.

This advertising campaign just engulfed our country about a decade ago, and is every bit as awesome today as it was then, and will always be something *I* feel, and most Canadians feel, speaks for us all. If you've never seen Joe Canada and his "I Am Canadian!" rant, here's your lucky day.



Back to our regularly scheduled program tomorrow. It's a holiday today, dontcha know?

From There to Where? How Far We've Come.

The INT ran a fascinating story on the end of tradition in Albania last week. The article begins:

Pashe Keqi recalls the day nearly sixty years ago when she decided to become a man. She chopped off her long black curls, traded in her dress for her father's baggy trousers, armed herself with a hunting rifle and vowed to forsake marriage, children and sex.

Women in Albania have long had the option to hold power traditionally reserved for the family patriarchs. The catch is, they'd have to abdicate their femininity, a la Keqi.

Once considered the only way a woman could be strong, by pretending to be a man, it's now considered outdated and unnecessary, and women, for the first time ever, are making serious strides in a very old-world country. The longstanding opinion of women is stated succinctly here:

Under the Kanun [a code of conduct that has been passed on orally among the clans of northern Albania for more than five centuries], the role of women is severely circumscribed: Take care of children and maintain the home. While a woman's life is worth half that of a man, a virgin's value is the same - 12 oxen.

But things are changing, and quickly. There's no longer the belief that a man or pseudo-man must be around the homefront to keep worlds righted and working. It's now understood women can handle it all, too.


There's a lot of rah-rah "sisters are doin' it" cheerleading going on on the stump in America today, with Obama trumpeting Hillary's gender-bending run for the presidential nominee as the two engulf headlines with their show of unity in Unity and the their travelling love-in.

And I think it's easy to get a little cynical and just dismiss it all as politics as usual when someone like Obama lauds Clinton by saying not only can women do it better, but "do it in heels..." But it's important for us to really dust that cynicism off, especially for those of us under 35 who've never really seen how damaging sexism once was.

This is no time for that cynicism, though. For a little while we deserve to be proud, too. This is a great time to be alive. It really is. There's a lot of hope for the future, with all these walls coming tumbling down these days. Black folks running for the highest office in the land, beating a woman for the job. It's a wild time.

When you look at the sacrifices made by those who've gone before us, like the women in Albania who've opted for a life of virginity and pretending to be a man so they might adopt control of their families, or those who've been skewered in the public for saying a woman can do a better job than a man, like Hillary did, it's been a long fucking road.

Girls today maybe don't even realize that most of us females have had the right to vote for less than a hundred years. We had to fight for the right to have a say.

Women today maybe still don't realize that most women never worked a job until this century, and pay still isn't equal for equal roles, most of the time.

But, wow, have we come a long ways, baby. I get a little dejected sometimes when I see the Paris and Britney wanna-bes coming up in the ranks, but then I see the new generation of women who can't stand their P/B contemporaries, who are smart, sexy, driven, resourceful, and promising.

It's going to be all right. I suspect some tough times may still be ahead, but that light at the end of the tunnel just keeps getting stronger, doesn't it?

It's a great time to be a witness, don't you think? An even better time to play a role.

Hate Speech? I Call Bullshit.

Sigh. I like my gay people, you know? My best friend's a gay guy, I've had lesbian and bi-sexual friends all my life, and I've been a staunch defender of gay rights since I was in my teens, long before it ever got popular. I think my mother thought I was a lesbian in training when I said, "But, Mom, people should be able to love whoever they love." I mean, I was 14 and it wasn't even 1990 yet.

Even though I like my gay people, I'm going to say a few things here that might get me in trouble.

Here in Vancouver, the Human Rights Tribunal is convening to investigate complaints that a comedian used hate speech when he flamed a couple lesbians at his show in May.

Here's where we have a big ol' class, boys and girls, about how Canada and the United States are different. So let's digress and give y'all the crash course, okay, for where it pertains to the right to speak freely?

We Canucks have freedom of speech... sort of.

The USA has carte blanche on freedom of speech, so it's no surprise we'll hear hate-spewing fuckheads shouting racist remarks followed by "I got a right to speak free, man!"

Here in Canada, no such thing would occur. Why? Inciting hatred is illegal.

Hey, that's what you like about us, after all. We're nice, we're polite, we're Canadians. We even say please and thank you. And, we promise, when we talk smack about ya, at least we'll do it nicely. (Most of the time.)

Aside from the incident last month, there's another case quietly being heard in the courts, getting little press out there in the world, which is surprising, because it's huge. MacLean's Magazine dedicated an entire issue in 2007 to Islam in the world today, which was staggering in its slant against Islam. I mean, I'm open-minded, have known Islamic people, and even taught ESL to Saudi Arabian Muslims who I thought were, by far, some of the kindest and most generous people I'd ever met.

And, even still, after reading that issue of MacLean's, because it was MacLean's (Canada's equivalent to Newsweek, and just as trusted) I found myself becoming slightly more anti-Islamic than I'd used to be, which shocked the hell out of me.

Now MacLean's is facing a lawsuit from the public as well as the government, for spreading hatred. It's been a long, long time since such a lawsuit has been heard here, though, and against such a venerable publication. And, in this instance, I'm proud and happy that our laws are speaking up and saying that MacLean's biases against Islam, and trying to argue against it, are the equivalent of "mild-mannered" hate-speech. Good.

So into this current climate wades a new controversy. A human rights tribunal will convene to hear the case of Lorna Pardy versus Guy Earle and Zesty's Restaurant.

The gist of it all? Basically, a comedian heckled some lesbians at his open mic night he was hosting.

There's no Youtube video, unfortunately, so much of what transpired is he-said/she-said. What is claimed is that these lesbians were out on the patio all night, getting loaded with drinks, and then they came right into the "club" part of Zesty's Restaurant on Commercial Drive, sat at the front, and started making out.

The comedian, Guy Earle, says he was pissed off by the disrespect of strolling into a comedy show just to make out -- full tongues, everything, in the front row. He says he doesn't care if you're "gay, straight, or giraffes", it's just rude. He got pissed off and launched on them.

Apparently he made comments like "You're fat, you're old, you're not even lesbian!" and brought up comments about sex toys and such. There's not a lot of context being put towards these alleged remarks, so it's hard to really beef it up. He admits he got angry, he says they took it up a notch too.

A question flying around Vancouver is, at what point does the age-old tradition of heckle-smashing in comedy routines become hate speech? Or does it ever?

And here's where I might get myself in trouble here.

Vancouver's Commercial Drive, where this went down, is considered many things -- the counterculture capital of Canada, a hip place, a great restaurant street, little Italy, where to catch the World Cup of Soccer... but it's also acknowledged as home to some of the most militant lesbians out there.

We're talking really, really militant lesbians sometimes. I heard someone describe it as, "Well, comparing them to your average lesbian is like comparing an average black person to a Black Panther, minus all the violence and stuff. They're just really out there."

I find that statement a little over the top, but it's certainly accurate to what the PERCEPTION is from some of the folks out there.

So, if some of them are that in-your-face, the question is, how much did the lesbians in question throw that in his face, and at what point does what you flaunt about yourself mean you're permitting that to become a weapon against you?

I mean, if you're acting like a militant lesbian, isn't that the first thing someone who's pissed off at you is going to notice and comment on? What, in the name of being politically correct and not hurting anyone's "alternate lifestyle" sensibility, you're supposed to try guessing at randomly arcane "safe" things to insult them about? Like, what, "I bet you take your library books back late, bitch"? Right, yeah.

Like, if some fucking asshole driving a Jaguar acts all entitled about making an illegal turn in front of you while driving his Jaguar, what's the first thing he's going to get insulted about? "Yeah, you fuckers and your Jaguars, you're all entitled assholes," right? Is it a stereotype? Yeah, but it's a stereotype the guy perpetuated. If he was driving a Civic, you'd find some other obvious way in with the insults. It's how we roll, man.

This is different, I think, than the Michael Richards tirade where he started launching into black men for being black, and calling them "nigger" and saying 50 years ago was better when they'd had forks shoved up their asses. This is very different than that. VERY different from that.

This is two lesbians walking into a comedy show and fucking making out in the front row. It's fucking RUDE. If it was a STRAIGHT couple, I'd ask for their asses to be taken the fuck out of the club, 'cos I think it's uncalled for that someone sits in the front row and just goes at it full-out with their partner. Sit in the fucking back, you know? It's the civilized thing to do. But because it's two lesbians who, I think, deserved to be called out for walking in and disrespecting this other person's career and efforts by sitting there and rudely making out in the front row it's somehow homophobic?

These chicks were just wanting to start something, I think. A club on Lesbian Central, a couple militant dykes camping out front row after getting loaded on booze, and then smack-talking the comedian? Yeah, sounds like someone was button-pushing.

And it's bullshit. If anyone is acting like a militant lesbian or a militant Christian or a militant Muslim or a militant racist or even just a militant dick, they deserve to be called out on what they're acting like. If they're being antagonistic and trying to use their beliefs or lifestyle as a get-out-of-jail free card because they pissed someone off and the other party has said something mean to them, then they oughta fuck right off.

They want to be all in-your-face about their beliefs and their lifestyle, then when someone calls 'em on it and comments and gets back in their face, then they want to turtle and claim the "offending party" is some big, bad meanie who's spewing hate speech? FUCKING HYPOCRITE.

Comedians have always treated hecklers mean. It's an unwritten rule of attending comedy: Keep your fucking mouth shut if you don't want the comedian to spank you on the stage.

They'll trash talk anyone who makes a scene -- and that's most particularly the job of someone like Guy Earle, who was the host of an open mic night, since he's the guy who had to give a night full of amateurs a little structure. Why? Because everyone wants to show up and be the hot shit who makes the headline comic squirm. Anyone who goes to comedy shows knows this is true -- there's always some asshole with six beers in 'em who thinks they belong on stage, so they smack-talk comedians.

Like a reader in our local paper wrote about Lorna Pardy and Co: "Don't pitch if you can't catch."

I loathe real hate speech. I support our laws against it. But bullshit whiners like these chicks, who go fucking looking for a fight then cry foul because they've lost, deserve to fucking lose and lose big.

As a Canadian who usually proudly appreciates the distinctions in freedom to speak between my country and the United States, because we shut down hate speech, I think there's a world of difference between someone like Earle and someone like Michael Richards, and *I* am offended he gets lumped in with a true hate-spewing fucker like Richards, because it lowers the standards for what we, as a society, really ought to be offended by.

I think there's a sad irony a case like this is coming up the week that George Carlin dies. Sigh.

What do you guys think? Am I blowing smoke out my ass? Am I secretly a homophobic bitch and this exposes it all? Eh?

Links:
Here's a great page on Georgia Straight's blog where they've posted both the controversial Michael Richards anti-black rant along with Guy Earle talking to a Toronto talk show about the Necking Lesbian Controversy here in Vancouver. Here's the New Rebublic tackling this story, and the National Post. Guy Earle's Myspace page. No info yet on how to contribute to his legal fund, something I hope is forthcoming soon, as I'd like this fight to get the support it deserves.

The Requisite Quarterly Drunken Posting (Hicc)

So, I'm drunk. It's been forever and a day since I've drank and blogged, so you're owed, dear reader, you're owed.

Of course, there's about 60% chance that this posting will suck, but I've given you the "I'm drunk" caveat and I'm good if you are. :) Mm, wine!

It's a cheap and dirty Californian Burgundy. I know, "They have Burgundies in California? It's a region, you know... Burgundy? Like, in France? Hence the name? Like, French?"

I know, I know. I know. Hey, it's $6.99. It's probably one of those proverbial 99-cent bottles of wine from the great Sunshine State. Whatever. It's all right. I find, sometimes, that life's just so much simpler if you opt to lower your standards a notch or two, and open your mind. There's only something wrong if you choose to notice it, right?

So, I says: Fabulous. Tasty, that. I had one of the lofty government liquor store employees recommend me something tasty and light that would work with sauteed salmon. I say it works with getting drunk, that's what I say.

I decided a second ago that I needed candles and some music, so I've opted for Elton John Live in Australia, and lit four candles. And I had a moment... just then. On my quest, I flicked on the light and caught my gaze in a mirror. And this toned, getting tanned face was looking back at me. My face has been lost in an overgrown bad haircut for more than a month... and I've lost about 15 pounds in that time. Tonight, wow. It shows. I hadn't seen that yet, and I cycled 30km today. And to catch myself off-guard, you know?

Maybe you don't. When you're in a process of change like I think I've been in, just hitting it hard, and working to lose the weight -- not relying on a diet plan or something like that to get you through, but sweating hard for six, eight, ten hours a week on top of full-time work, doing the whole "I cook and clean for myself" thing, and maintaining a life, a blog, all that, you get absorbed in life, you know? Months go by when you're conscious you're changing a bit, but all it takes is something completely new to enter the picture and you suddenly realize how much change there's really been from then to now. A haircut shows new face angles you've not noticed, or a new outfit betrays new hot curves. Doesn't take much. But it can blow a mind, baby.

So I've had my moment. Sure, I'm drunk, but I hope I remember it. Heh. Or else I get a two-fer and I have the same epiphany when I wake up and get sober. "Holy shit! I've lost weight!" Awesome. A two-fer! On a Saturday morning on a four-day long weekend? Fuckin' a, I'll take a two-fer. :)

Ahh, well. Here's a promise I make you, readers. I'm stewing on a few heavy, heavy postings. To come in the coming weeks are possibly an entire series devoted to Teen Sex in America Today... or at least my take on it. That will segue into a story or two on the state of AIDS in the world today. I may tackle a sociological story on the demise of the tradition of abdication of femininity of Albanian women who wish to become the clan leaders for their family, a really interesting change in society that's brought entirely about by media and the new chicks in the spotlight worldwide, an interesting story I'd like to weigh in on.

And, fuck, I can't forget the long-awaited rise of gay marriage in California, now, can I? More importantly, but less covered, is New York's decision to start legalizing the recognition of gay marriages performed in states where it is legal. Performing one isn't legal yet in NY, I don't think, but they're opting to legally recognize ones performed elsewhere, so that's fucking huge, man.

It's been a really important month in sex and politics, but I've sort of needed to take some mental time off.

Tonight, drunk though I be, I feel really, really keen to start tackling some of the harder stuff.

The sex with teenagers thing in America, man, that's just so depressing, and so very, very scary, and why the mainstream media isn't covering it more when there's four months before an election just baffles the fuck out of me. And I've been holding back, because when I let go on it, it's going to be in several back-to-back postings. It's important. When one in four girls who are 14-16 has an STD under an administration that has pushed abstinence-only education, something NEEDS to be said. 25% of mid-teens are carrying an STD, and it's not a major issue?

HELLO? Scientists in Antarctica are given condoms on the government dime when sex with coworkers is considered sexual harassment, but kids aren't taught about condoms in school? Like, what the fuck? Sure, the Wii is fun, but I'd much rather be playing with the cutie from Biology, you know what I'm saying? Can't get drugs, can't buy booze, but the bodies are there in the offing? "Duh."

So, all right, I'll be tackling that very, very soon. Fuck it, this weekend, even. It's time, man.

I digress: Before my decision to drink a bottle of red wine (I have a glass in front of me still), I had cycled around much of the fabulous city of Vancouver this evening. About 30k. Gorgeous. It's the night before a heatwave. In fact, it's nigh on midnight and all my windows and doors have been open since eight, and it's hotter now than when I came home. Still, I love me a heatwave and have a notion to do a long, long ride when the bitter hot-hot-hot kicks in tomorrow afternoon, after I scoot around town for the fine fixings for a great weekend from an assortment of farmers' markets. I can't afford big things, but I can afford locally-grown organic lettuce and farm-fresh potatoes, and isn't that something fantastic right there?

I get to babysit a friend's cat tomorrow night, which is really to say I get to babysit his Wii. My centre of balance is apparently dead centre, says Wii. I rock. Methinks I'm getting drunk again. I mean, if I'm dead centre anyhow, right? I'll just make sure I move that glass coffee table to a galaxy far, far away...

Fuck, now I want to watch Star Wars and visit galaxies far, far away. Sigh. Great cheap red. I think it's a hallucinogenic. God knows we loves our hallucinogenics.

My drunk ass needs to be elsewhere. But I feel fantastic! It's going to be a fun few days. Ahh, cheap red wine, how doth my cheap ass love thee. Expensive red wine I also love, and can appreciate, but I just know how to slum when it's necessary.

And, believe me... everyone needs to slum it some of the time. It makes the rest of the time feel spectacular. Still, for $6... I bet I feel richer than you right now. It's good to be me. You have yourselves a fabulous weekend. I might be getting lost in the world a little. Shouldn't we all?

A Great Link for Anyone Like Me

Anyone who's been following my blog knows I've lost about 40 pounds so far this year from old-fashioned grunt work. I've done it all myself -- no weightloss organizations, no trainers, no diet plans, no fancy workout equipment purchased, and not even having a gym membership.

Yeah, I'm proud of myself. Rightly so.

But some support along the way would have been nice. So I'm thrilled it's not too late to find that support, since I have another 50 pounds I wish to lose. I've found LiveStrong.com, a website begun by biking's golden boy, Lance Armstrong, which is an incredible community filled with lots of articles and education divided into easy-to-navigate sections like "Eat Well" and "Be Active" and "Stay Young" and "Find Balance.

There's a wildly active forum community. Every member gets a profile. There's ways of measuring your calories, fitness, and means of tracking everything about your life. There's "groups" where microcommunities with similar goals amass, and there's "Dares" where you choose a challenge to strive towards, like "Quit smoking" or "Lower my blood pressure", and really useful programs for tracking and improving your effort on a daily basis.

Did I mention the whole thing is free?

Any place like this I've seen on the web that has been free has looked like a fucking Mickey Mouse operation. This is sleek, like something like Nerve.com or Lavalife.com. Beautiful system.

It's in Beta now, and if you're like me and can't afford these places like The Biggest Loser Club where they want you spending $20 a month or whatever, check it out, but make sure you tell them the "free" thing is important to you.

As I explained in a glowing letter I wrote them, "Health is too important for it always to be about industry. Someone has had to stand up and say, 'Every body deserves to be healthy, no matter what their income'. And it looks like that was Lance."

If you join, speak up, let them know. Support their advertisers so the free-thing can continue. But, mostly, just live strong. That's my plan. I've got two hours of cycling in 25/85 degree heat today... and I'm pretty pleased about it, because I live strong! :)

Um, The Weirdest Poll Ever (Or One Of)

So, I got up early to make myself muffins today. It was a new recipe. Cinnamon Banana-Peanut Butter Muffins. I thought it looked really liquidy, but I thought "Stranger things have happened..." I mean, I know of flourless cake recipes, right?

So, I bake them, I take poke them, the finger indent pops back up, which is the tried-and-true method of knowing when muffins are ready.

Except this time. See, I take 'em out, take a deep breath, think, "Wow, these are going to rock! They smell SO! good!" I put 'em atop the stove... and I step off to tinker while watching the morning news, awaiting my kettle to boil.

I go back, and the muffins have fallen! They've gone flat, like bad souffles. "WHAT?" I bake 'em longer... they still look raw. "FUCK!"

There was no saving 'em. I tried. Cinnamon banana-y, peanutty goodness? DAMN RIGHT I tried to save them. I may have lost 40 pounds, but I'm no fool.

___

So, they're no good. Somewhat raw, can't eat 'em. Question: Is it safe to feed them to the seagulls and pigeons? Cinnamon and banana-y goodness can't go entirely to waste, right?

So, can I feel 'em to the birds? Whatcha say, minions?

Fuckin' recipe... 25 years of muffin-making and not one batch has ever failed me. My perfect record is no more. Fuckin' recipe!

Things I Love to Do, and Can, 'Cause I'm Single - #17

Leaving work early, like I have something important to rush off for, but, really, all I want to do is have a dinner date with myself: Get to a local Farmer's Market before it closes, buy ingredients for a as-yet-undecided very in-season gourmet meal with fresh local Coho salmon, heirloom tomatoes, a bottle of wine, and some artisan bread. Then, cooking the best meal I know how, with my incredible just-harvested organic produce... and getting a little drunk. Hicc.

[I blogged about my culinary adventure on TLD.]

(Check the comments for the complete list, amended with the latest reader additions. Leave a comment with your own thing you love to do when you're all alone, single or not. You never know, it might inspire someone you'll never meet half a world away. Gotta love the Web.)

Things I Love to Do, and Can, 'Cause I'm Single - #14

I think I've started something here, so I'm now compiling a complete list of these, including reader suggestions for additional points. See the comments on this posting for the complete list. Have your say and get on the list, if ya like. Have at it.

Having a four-day long weekend planned with exciting things to do with myself, by myself, before a crazy two weeks begins:

An afternoon at the beach, a long ambling bikeride to an old independent theatre for an afternoon matinee, a sleep-in and a DVD day, and a day packed with to-dos to scratch off the list. A bottle of wine. Maybe even two. An expensive steak, a fancy meal. Maybe 2. Maybe 4. Hell, maybe 10. All for me. Because I'm worth it. Because life's short.

Of George Carlin and Obscenity in the Courts Today

It's 12:30am and I have a pretty solid rule of no writing latenight anymore, 'cos it gets my mind revving for bed, but then I shouldn't have stumbled on the midnight airing of Larry King, on which a few comics are lamenting the loss of George Carlin.

Bill Maher nailed it nicely, in speaking of both Lenny Bruce and George Carlin. Lenny Bruce, he liked but didn't love, 'cos while Bruce was wildly groundbreaking, he wasn't always funny. Carlin, however, even when he offended the shit outta you, his fuckin' smirk would win you over and you'd be smitten by the act's end.

Here's the thing, though. Carlin's greatest contribution to our society, I think, is that words are just words, and if we wanna let 'em hurt us or bother us, that's our right, but our rights should stop when it starts infringing on other people's rights to use whatever words they like.

That's it, in a nutshell. I mean, shit, it's a fucking word. What's the motherfucking problem? Why are they getting their tits in a twist? Don't let the cocksuckers win. They're a bunch of cunts just taking the piss.

When Carlin unleashed the seven words you couldn't say on television, and his act landed his ass in a sling for obscenity that same year, it began a serious debate. The debate wasn't new, but it was much more prominent, because this was Carlin, not Bruce. Carlin played the fucking Tonight Show, man. People actually liked him.

Lenny Bruce's problem was, he was so antagonistic and angry about pushing the boundaries that he often sort of forgot to bring the humour along with his act. Still, he made important statements, and you can read his How to Talk Dirty And Influence People today and it will still sound like he's talking about modern society, and it's more than 40 years old. He was ahead of his time, brilliant, outspoken, groundbreaking, but just a little too hard to take for the common person.

George Carlin, however, was this bright, funny, charming, effusive, witty, and always surprising guy who couldn't help but to leave you feeling very, very amused. (And probably a little sore from all the laughing.) At the end, you'd think "Damn. That was some funny shit, but how'd he get to be so goddamned right about things? Yet... funny?"

One of the great unfortunate things about George's lousy fucking timing about getting out of this rat-race of ours is that a landmark case is before the courts now, maybe to finally, for once and for all, debunk the notion of the "obscene".

God, George would have loved to see this case argued.

As a blogger who sometimes talks about sex, but almost always writes in a way some deem to be "obscene", with profanities abound, I'm concerned about any case that defines internet sex-related sites as obscene. As should anyone who writes on sex in the blggosphere, even if this is regarding a much more overt sex-filled site.

In a nutshell, the NY Times says:

Mr. Walters is defending Clinton Raymond McCowen, who is facing charges that he created and distributed obscene material through a Web site based in Florida. The charges include racketeering and prostitution, but Mr. Walters said the prosecution’s case fundamentally relies on proving that the material on the site is obscene.

What is the defense? They plan to enter into evidence information about search trends on Google. Comparing, say, the searches done for "apple pie" versus those done for "orgy". The argument they're making is, yes, we'd like to think we live in a world with perfect, "normal" suburban people and all, but the reality is, almost everyone's got a little kink in the closet.

And "orgy", it turns out, is a pretty darn popular search. Arguably as popular and even as American, it would seem, as apple pie, if the numbers bear out.

I mean, think about it. If Oprah came out tomorrow and said, "GOD, I love it doggie-style!" then taking it from behind would become the new pole-dance. But as much as we want to think we live in a society full of sex, it's mostly a society full of hypocrisy. 'Cos it's that clean sex, right? Tits and ass, a little cock-thrusting, she takes it and likes it, and that's how we like our sex. Or is it?

The guys passing all the laws in Washington are the ones cluttering up the Rolodexes of all the best escort agencies-- err, whorehouses-- I mean, escort agencies. They're the ones doing fancy toe-tap messages in airport washrooms as they troll for clandestine homosexual encounters, and getting caught with, essentially, hookers, yet they want voters to believe they're somehow perfect people with no strange sexual mores.

It's insane. It's hypocrisy. It's bullshit. Own up and admit that you like it d-i-r-t-y, and get it over with. Fuck!

And probably half the people covering the stories or attacking others based on the stories, are hiding their own strange little fetishes. You know, they're into toe-sucking, or golden showers, or love to be spanked and chastised like they're six years old. Then there's the holier-than-thou who fall harder-than-you, like Jim Bakker, Jimmy Swaggart, who just oozed hypocrisy.

So, this case, substantiated by Google, aims to finally assert that people want to know about orgies, and all those other sexual things. And much, much more than apple pie, it would seem.

The reality is, we're in a whole new kind of sexual revolution, and we're all getting more savvy, but also more experimental. If we can look to the internet for inspiration and information, in the privacy of our own homes, then we're liable to do just that. Thus, the web seems like the porn-lover's playground, because there's no inherent public shame left in the consumption of porn, not when you can do it at home.

George understood that about us. He understood, somewhere around when he was in '70-71, that it was all right for him to be confused and disappointed by the world around him. He began to realize that he wasn't alone. He stopped being a clean-cut comic and gave in to the dark side. He began to point out the stupidity of obscenity, swear like he was hanging out with friends, and just nudged us into a direction where maybe, just maybe, we might finally realize that they really are just words, and we all needed to lighten up a little.

Just like methinks Florida might lighten up about sex. After all, if Google says we're d-i-r-t-y, then who are we to argue?

Things I Love to Do, and Can, 'Cause I'm Single - #7

Note: If you're wondering why the list started at #6, it's because I thought "sleep in, get drunk, masturbate, burp, and wear pajamas for the whole day" were really obvious as a solid lock for the top 5. I mean, really, come on. They're universal. We're not proud that we like to be that way sometimes, but we secretly love to do 'em all. And on the same day? Ha, yeah, score. It's the Catholic way to sin: In a bunch, so you can be penitent all in one shot and get the guilt over with sooner. I thought it only fitting I take a moment to acknowledge what should be obvious but, in the Puritanical age we sometimes seem to live in, may well not be obvious, in tribute to the dear departed George Carlin, who I know would really understand.

Saying "My holiday can't end this soon!" and sleeping in till 8 on a Monday, then casually cycling to work at 11 after an eggs-and-sausage brekkie, and getting home at 8:30, with supper getting on the table around 9:30. Like I did today and tonight. :)

Carlin is Dead, Long Live Carlin

Freedoms are something we take for granted in places like the US and Canada... until someone comes along and takes those freedoms.

The trouble with being "free" is we don't always realize how limited that freedom truly is. That's why we have people like George Carlin in our lives, people who push buttons.

Or we did. George Carlin died Sunday of a heart attack.

When it comes to really saying how society is, I think comics like Lenny Bruce and George Carlin have had such important roles to play. Lenny Bruce I've eulogized before on this blog. Carlin, not so much. I'm a huge fan of comedy, but more so the pushy, provocative skits of the '70s.

In 1973, Carlin had a skit air on the radio that prompted another challenge of America's obscenity laws that had plagued Bruce till he died. Carlin fought the charges and the Supreme Court ruled he was indecent, but not obscene. It wouldn't be Carlin's last fight, either, but he'd always win a little bit.

I'm a big fan of Freedom of Speech, albeit I'm a fan of our Canadian version of it, not the American version. (The difference? Although you're not allowed to do hate speech in Canada, [which goes against "freedom" of speech but I approve] we can swear more, get away with more, and we have more sex on TV.)

But I'm a big believer that the freedoms I celebrate by being angrily on-point with issues, swearing all over the place, and flaming anyone I can think of, come on the heels of such provocative work done over the years by folks like Carlin, Bruce, Bill Hicks, and any other dead comedic great you want to lump in there.

Unfortunately, the debate between "obscene" and "indecent" still rages in the USA, and the land of the free still isn't as unbridled and free as many of today's comics wish it would be.

There aren't a lot of comics where you always get the joke, professionals who understand how to really make their audience come alive, but Carlin was the last truly great comedian left from the time when American censors were getting paid too well for their jobs, when getting onstage meant daily questions of "What's gonna be too much for this town, anyhow?"

For folks like Carlin and Bruce, that question would get answered when they'd land in jail yet again for some dirty jokes or peppering speech with profanities.

Just a little of the free speech you have in America is thanks to folks like Carlin who questioned those who called him "obscene".

After all, what some people consider obscene is how the rest of us like to live our lives.

I'm sad that the world's without Carlin now. I'm sad he never lived to receive his Mark Twain's Humourist prize this November.

But I'm glad he pushed some buttons in his lifetime. Thanks, George. The mark you left behind changed the landscape of public speech, and you will be remembered.

Things I Love to Do, and Can, 'Cause I'm Single - #6

Eat cold cereal for supper.

And then there was none.

Work looms ominously on the morrow as my holiday comes to a close. I could have achieved a lot more than I did this week.

I didn't set goals. I didn't want goals. This year is about achievement, but this week wasn't. This week was about pausing and just pushing everyone far, far away from me. Sleep, some writing, a lot of "just being" and very, very little else.

Every time I started feeling guilty about the vast nothingness that was my week, I reminded myself, "Monday, it's on." I could stop completely all week long, but come workday, ain't no pause to be pushed.

And tomorrow's Monday. As much as part of me dreads it, because I'm educated enough to know what I'm in for now, the bigger part of me is looking forward to proving more to myself.

Today's the antithesis to my week because I'm getting so much done. I'm tackling paperwork I've avoided for about eight or nine months, sorting it out. In so doing, I'm getting this pretty good snapshot of where I was last September and where I'm at now, and I finally feel like there's progress in every area of my life. I've also come to accept that this struggle will probably continue for the better part of the next year, and I won't really start to reach where I wanna be until late next year, even if I continue with all the progress I'm making.

But that's all right with me. I want my goals to be met in a steady, digestible fashion. I don't want everything to pan out overnight. It's impossible to grow that quickly on a constant basis. Growth spurts happen, sure, but they're called spurts for a reason.

I'm really glad I gave myself this chance to just pull away from everything. I've needed a big break like this for a long time. I'm glad I was broke for it, too. Money can be a distraction when we need anything but, at times. Sometimes space is the most precious commodity in the world. Time always is.

Hey, it's a fantastic day. A fine finish for my holiday. A reckoning of "from whence we came" and an acknowledging of how far to go. Speaking of distances to go, I have some miles ahead before my night comes to a close. Back to the grind for this lowly scribe-type gal.

Of Muffins, Mechanics, and Meddling Old Men

Just a note: We bloggers don't have a lot to go on, since stats are fickle, links are fleeting, and pagehits are flukey. Therefore, comments are the lifeblood of what tells us what works, and what doesn't. So, if you actually like when I post the odd sex-advice posting, but there's not a single comment left, like the one that's been front-and-centre for two days now, I'm actually left with the impression it wasn't liked or totally missed the spot. This is true of anything we write, but much more true of things we write that are a little outside our comfort zones sometime.

If you do like it, and you want more, then you should let me know. Otherwise, I might take it the wrong way and just not go there.

____________________________

It's a long story but my scooter mechanic works pretty much for free if I throw homemade foodie goods his way. So, since my bike's getting its love on with the boy avec wrench today, I had to zip up to Safeway for the urgently-needed chocolate chips with which I would bake muffins to appease said mechanic boy.

I was pre-caffeine when the driver of the car next to my scooter eyeballed my bumpersticker on the side of my bike, which reads: "The last time we combined politics and religion, people were burned at the stake."

So the old guy goes, "I'm sorry your bike doesn't like religion."

It took me off-guard, which it shouldn't, since a surprising number of people question me about the sticker. But I gathered my clues and sputtered, "It doesn't have a problem with religion, it just doesn't like it when religion mixes with politics."

"Well, I like my religion."

"In your politics? As long as it's YOUR religion, right?"

"Oh. Hmm. Well... Now that you mention it..."

"Yeah, there you go."

So he chuckled, scratched his head, finished backing up and took off.

Which goes to show you: It'd be nice if people would actually think about what they read before they go spouting off against it, wouldn't it? Ahh, the silly things I dream of.

On Oral, A Reader Asks:Can I Really Tease Her For More Than An Hour?

some days are clean slates, just waiting for some input, a spark, a suggestion. s