When I was a young teen, Britney Spears trotted onto the scene in her braids, schoolgirl skirt and red lipstick, posing for Rolling Stone while sucking lollipops and hugging stuffed animals. At the time, her look was described as “kinderwhore.” Over a decade later, Britney’s most barely-legal moments look tame in comparison to the pop tarts who’ve followed her. Lady Gaga‘s pantless get-ups. Katy Perry‘s latex dress and bra that shoots whipped cream. Miley Cyrus pole-dancing on an ice cream cart. Ke$ha‘s entire existence. A hipster blog called Hipster Runoff has coined a new name for it and none other than Rolling Stone has anointed it a genre (albeit a “fake genre”) in the pages of their magazine. Ladies and gentlemen, we are now riding the “slutwave.” Keep reading »
In the weeks since my breakup, I have tried to be gentle with myself and practice self-care. I’m not always so good at self-care; normally I’m the type of person who says “should” a lot. I should watch this intellectual documentary. I should watch the news instead of a “Jersey Shore” marathon. It’s hard for me to just let loose and have fun. But I’m trying to give myself permission to do whatever it is I feel like doing that feels good! I’ve slept 10 hours a night and taken naps in the afternoon. I’ve baked chocolate chip cookies — twice. I’ve watched God-knows-how-many movies and episodes of “Skins,” season two, on Netflix Instant. I’ve squashed that little voice in my head that says, “You’re annoying them!” and called my best girl friends when I’ve needed to talk. I’ve even gone to a yoga class. I have to say that even though I don’t feel 100 percent better, I’m doing a decent job of distracting myself. But I know I’m not the only one who needs distracting: tons of Frisky commentors have told me they are going through breakups right now, too. So, in the spirit of self-care, I hereby give you permission to do any of the following things. If you’ve just gone through a breakup, it’s totally OK to … Keep reading »
I’m a Starbucks coffee addict, but even I’m wary of Starbucks’ new trenta drink size, serving up a super-sized portion of caffeine. First of all, let’s talk about butchering the Italian language, shall we? “Trenta” means 30 in Italian, but the trenta is actually 31 oz. OK, whatever. The trenta is massively larger than other Starbucks beverages: a tall is 12 oz., a grande is 16 oz., and a venti (which actually means 20 in Italian) is 20 oz. According to AOL, only iced drinks will be available in the trenta size, which means those no whip mocha frappuccinos with peppermint syrup that were making you fat can now make you even fatter. As of today, only 14 warm, mostly Southern states are offering the trenta: Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Florida, Louisiana, Texas, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Hawaii, Nevada and Arizona. These 31 oz. monsters will be available nationwide on May 3. If any Frisky readers try the new trenta size, make sure to tell us how it is … once your entire body stops shaking.
[Starbucks] Keep reading »
Octomom has long rebuffed offers to appear in porn — or so the tabloids claim. Now TMZ is reporting Nadya Suleman recently filmed a kinky fetish porn at her home in which she whips a man wearing a diaper until he has welts on his back. She’s reportedly wearing a black corset and black leggings and “her body is kinda smokin’,” despite popping out 14 rugrats. Wait, she filmed a fetish porn in her home? Who babysat all those kids? Allegedly the video is being shopped for sale, although it is unclear by whom. Octomom has been doggedly pursued recently by porn king Vivid Video, who tried to exploit her financial troubles and the fact her house might go into foreclosure to get her to appear on screen. Recently, Vivid offered Octomom $1 million to appear in a skin flick! If rumors of her fetish video are true, we hope she was paid well. [TMZ] Keep reading »
Every woman’s got ‘em: the panties ruined by Nature’s special, beautiful, magical gift to your ladyparts. You might be thrilled that Bingo’s tadpoles didn’t penetrate the love glove, but that still doesn’t mean you aren’t pissed your white, lacy Victoria’s Secret thong looks like a Jackson Pollack painting.
Typically, girls wear sexy underwear at all times because, even if we know no one is going to see them, we just feel better about ourselves when we know we look pretty underneath. But the three to seven days of the month when all we do is cry and eat Cherry Garcia is an exception! Whether they were formerly cute panties sneak attacked by Aunt Flo or nasty knickers you bought just to stain, here are the five types of period panties every woman’s got: Keep reading »
A “rent-a-husband” service in Tblisi, Georgia, called Husband For An Hour, sends men to your house to do chores like fixing leaky faucets and repairing broken windows. You don’t have to have just gone through a breakup to appreciate the beauty of a dude who stays for an hour, takes his $13, and then is out of your hair forever! While we Frisky gals are much more self-sufficient in the “fixing things” department (who else has got their own tool kit?! woot, woot!), we think this service sounds awesome for little old ladies or pregnant women who just can’t do certain housekeeping tasks themselves. However, Husband For An Hour has one little problem: some women are calling up in need of services these handymen don’t provide. “We have to explain to them that our guys are not male prostitutes,” owner Beso Mchedlishvili told the AFP. “They can help with repairing a leaking tap, but their job description says nothing about providing affection.” Hey, dude, don’t blame us ladies for thinking a guy who can fix things with his hands is hella sexy! What would you request from a rent-a-husband service? Remember, you’ve only got an hour! [AFP] Keep reading »
For nearly two years I was with the man I thought I was going to marry, have children with and spend the rest of my life with. I loved him so all-consumingly that I worried about his death. Driving on highways or flying on airplanes, it didn’t matter; I just thought of what risks it posed to him and how terribly in pain I would feel if he were ever to be gone from my life. Even though I felt a bit silly worrying about him, I couldn’t help myself. We used to say we were half of each other. He would say to me that he couldn’t wait to grow old with me. We were intimately close and open with each other in a way I’ve never been before and in a way I know I won’t find easily again.
He broke up with me after New Year’s suddenly and without warning. Now, I marvel at how quickly it’s taken me to fall out of love with him. How very, very odd it is to look inside myself to see if there’s any little bit that still loves him after what he’s done to me. Keep reading »