No girlfriend? No problem. You can do what one lonely man did and construct a girlfriend in the shower with just a mask, newspaper, some tape and your regular run-of-the-mill handheld shower head. That’s totally normal, right? NO IT’S NOT.
Imgur user tyblazitar has officially planted the seed for all of my nightmares forevermore by sharing with us a step-by-step photo tutorial on how to create a “beautiful girl” out of your shower head, just like his fellow Imgur user ARuFa. Warning: Prepare to maybe poop your pants, because the final result is terrifying.
Check out the photo instruction guide here and get a glimpse of this scary shower girlfriend in action after the jump… Keep reading »
Three forward-thinking women have put their heads together to create the ultimate in lingerie — pretty, stain-resistant underwear meant to help you survive your period without ruined clothes and embarrassing moments. Why didn’t anyone come up with this sooner!?
The panties are called THINX, and they’re the brain child of twin sisters Radha and Miki Agrawal and their friend Antonia Dunbar. After facing one too many public period disasters, the ladies got fed up with the cultural stigma surrounding menstruation — and how that stigma has prevented innovation in the products we use to manage our time of the month. THINX undies are made with “four-layer technology” to prevent leakage, but are still thin enough to feel something like real underwear. They’re offered as hiphuggers, thongs, and even a fancy lacy variety. Keep reading »
Breasts, boobs, tits, tatas, jugs, melons, knockers, rack — there are about as many nicknames as there are ways to show your appreciation for our golden globes. In the immortal words of Simple Minds: “Don’t you forget about me…” Seriously, fellas, you can go down on me for hours, but if you don’t touch my boobs, I won’t be satisfied. Unfortunately, every gal has got a story to tell about some boob hound who did her knockers wrong. So, let’s sit down for a little titty straight talk.
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When my first love and I broke up, I was still new to the world of sex. I was 22 years old when we said our tearful goodbye, knowing full well that what we had at that young age wouldn’t be able to transcend time. I remember thinking I’d not only never love again, but never, ever have sex again either. Sometimes I really miss the equal parts drama and naivety that comes with youth.
As a way to cope with the loss, I set up camp on my couch with endless supplies of veggie burgers and Ben & Jerry’s, and drowned my sorrows in “Beverly Hills, 90210″ reruns. I still contend that Emily Valentine really was one of the highlights of the show, and I have the months of obsessively watching it as scientific evidence. I also saw a wee bit of myself in her.
After a few years had passed, I started dating men here and there, having superficial flings steeped in alcohol as the common denominator, and by the time I moved to New York City, casual sex was all I was really interested in. It was there for the offering, I knew I enjoyed it, at least most of the time, so why not take advantage of sexual opportunities that life presented me?
Then I fell in love again. Keep reading »
I woke up one morning last week to my Twitter in an uproar. That’s reasonably common in my world, as many of the people I follow are marginalized and there’s a lot to be angry about. Turns out that the FBI has seized MyRedbook, a California site where masseuses and escorts could advertise for clients for free, and arrested two people, Eric Omuro and Annmarie Lanoce, in connection to “using the mail and the Internet to facilitate prostitution” as well as money laundering under several aliases.
As of right now it’s not entirely clear if those arrests were the main focus of the sting, or if there will be more upcoming. It’s terrifying to many people close to me, who used MyRedbook to advertise their erotic entertainment services because other options like Eros were too expensive or less trafficked by paying customers. We don’t really know what options sex workers who had profiles up on MyRedbook have to protect themselves from investigation. I’m among them, as I used to advertise on MyRedbook as a professional dominatrix. Keep reading »
Remember that “First Kiss” video, featuring pairs of strangers asked to kiss for the first time? The internet went crazy when it which turned out to be a clever ad for a clothing company, inspiring a whole mess of parodies. Well, the director of “First Kiss” is back with “Undress Me,” a similarly themed video that’s an homage to William Masters and Virginia Johnson, the real-life sex researchers who serve as the inspiration for HBO’s “Masters of Sex.” See, back in 1957, as the “Undress Me” video explains, Masters and Johnson began asking strangers to undress for science. “Undress Me” director Tatia Pilieva picks up where they left off, explaining, “I asked strangers to undress each other and get in bed. Nothing else. No rules.” The results are funny and kinda sexy and only a bit awkward, honestly. Watch above!
Call me a bad feminist, but I have no desire to see what my cervix looks like. I will take Amelia and her gynecologist’s word for it that my womanhood is a beautiful, flowering rose. So, too, am I uninterested in the Skavkom Gaga Intimate Camera, an endoscopic vibrator that films the inside of your vagina so you can watch it on your computer via a USB port. As put by this NSFW gay porn site, “The innovative design of endoscope allows you to inspect women’s bodies as if you were a gynecologist. The hidden searchlight enables you to explore the most secret place of a woman’s body.”
I’m not entirely sure that this isn’t completely fake, because 1) WHY? and 2) the English in this video was translated by drunk and high Balki Bartokomous. This is a “sex toy” for sick fucks who get off on pretending to be gynecologists and use phrases like “the most secret place of a woman’s body” to describe the vag. Ick ick ick. NOPE. [Huffington Post]
Here are all the things I know about my body: My angular face no longer gains weight at the same rate that the rest of my body does, so when I gain weight my head looks smaller even though everything else looks about right in ratio to each other. I have proportionately very large thighs, and specifically proportionately very large quadriceps. My hamstrings and calves aren’t as developed. My ankles are likewise really wide. I have splayed breasts and my nipples don’t point quite forward. My rib cage is just about as wide as my hips. My hips are very wide. My butt has a pretty round shape but it doesn’t sit very high and I still don’t know if that can change via infinite squats (or if I care?). I have thin fingers but knobby knuckles. I have wide shoulders. My upper arms have some heft, so when they’re flat to my sides they splay out a little. My toes curl into each other. The tops of my feet are kind of hairy. I have a genuinely big-boned frame. The way I carry fat on my body has changed significantly in the last 10 years. I bloat up the week before my period. My skin never tans, it just gets sort of burnished. My legs are short for my height. I’m 70 inches tall, I weigh 176 pounds, and I have 24 percent body fat.
None of these things are criticisms — well, none of them are criticisms anymore. I spent the larger part of my life avoiding looking in the mirror, and when I did, I would only catch glances. It’d be a glance here at my legs, a glance there at my arms. It was always part of a subconscious effort to compare a part of my body to a part of someone else’s body — not just celebrities, but women I’d see walking down the street. So I only knew about my body the things that didn’t match up to someone else. Keep reading »
When my feminist friends and I began our communal Facebook message thread, we envisioned a no-holds-barred place to discuss careers, gender politics, and the gospel of Beyoncé. But ever since soccer season took the Internet by storm, our only mentions of “Flawless” have concerned abs. In the past week alone, my “progressive” peers and I shared 10 “World Cup Hottie” listicles, 18 winky faces, and too many Netherlands-based puns to count.
As over-the-top as our behavior was, we were never ashamed. There was an implicit empowerment to our objectification, like a hard-earned reward for eons of inequality. Even when I read our conversation (and watched a video of Ronaldo slow-motion jogging) in a very public, very crowded coffee shop, I didn’t bother to turn down my laptop brightness. If anyone saw my screen, I trusted they would be impressed: I wasn’t some creepy guy browsing Google images of Megan Fox — I was a proud woman, flaunting the sex drive to which I was entitled! Keep reading »
How often do our partners — the good ones, anyway — attempt to convince us they find our bodies, flaws and all, sexy as hell? But sadly, most women struggle with insecurities about their bodies, which affects their confidence in life and their relationships. We want the lights off during sex, cover certain body parts we’re ashamed of, or don’t even want to get intimate at all.
This was what inspired photographer Rachel Castillero, who, with several of her talented girlfriends, came up with a twist on the classic boudoir photos: Fox Sessions. Read more on Tres Sugar…