On occasion, I get mildly – just mildly – depressed. That sort of depressed where you can’t quite pin it on one particular thing, where it’s more a general, ambiguous malaise. On the occasions when I find myself feeling this way, and as a single woman in her 30′s who lives alone and works from home, I try to get out of the house. On one such occasion, I decided to treat myself to brunch. I did so at a restaurant down the block from my apartment, a spot I dined at, on average, two times a week. Whenever I go in there, I arrive with book in hand, sit at the bar, order a glass of wine, followed by a bowl of soup, followed by a cup of hot water. The routine, as a whole, prompted frequent urination, which both A) provided helpful intermissions to my reading, and B) helped me, as a Solo Diner, to look occupied.
The restaurant’s most winning feature is – and has always been – a loin-achingly handsome waiter I shall henceforth call Brian.* If you imagine both John Lennon and Justin Timberlake at their most handsome of stages, shaken, stirred, poured into a tall glass of water, you’d wind up with Brian. I knew, as all patrons knew, that Brian was to be not obtained, merely ogled; that one did well to appreciate him as exquisite décor rather than realistic option. Keep reading »
Introducing the PantyO, a pair of undies that force you to do your recommended daily kegel exercises. The panties, adorned with Swarovski crystals (but why?), come with a one-inch long silicone extension, which goes into the vagina and provides a “focus point” for kegels. OK. So let’s just break this down here. I get that kegels are important — they keep your bladder in tip-top condition and strengthen the pelvic wall and make you more orgasmic and stuff. I’m not anti-kegel. BUT … do I need to do my kegels while I’m trying to live my life? Do I need to walk around with the equivalent of a one-inch dildo inside of me all day? Like while I’m at work, out running errands or at dinner with friends? NO. That sounds awkward. Not to mention uncomfortable. But maybe I’m just being obtuse or something. People, please tell me if I am missing something here. Would you pay $85 to wear these Swarovski crystal encrusted kegel panties? [Daily Mail UK]
It’s a sign of the times in South Auckland, New Zealand, where local prostitutes are being accused of destroying street signs by using them for pole dancing routines designed to attract customers.
In the last 18 months, more than 40 poles have been bent, buckled or broken in the past 18 months and the signs, which include notices of parking restrictions, cost taxpayers thousands of dollars to replace.
Elected officials such as Donna Lee say the culprits are local prostitutes who use them like stripper poles in a dance club.
“The poles are part of their soliciting equipment and they often snap them,” she told The Telegraph. ”Some of the prostitutes are big, strong people.” Read more …
Men, how do you know you’re well-endowed? Oh, when your penis is mistaken for a weapon of mass destruction. Jonah Falcon, the man presumed to have the world’s largest penis (although Guinness World Records has not been down in his pants to confirm), aroused suspicion at the San Francisco International Airport when passing through security.
At nine inches flaccid and 13.5 inches at full mast, it’s not surprising that airport security suspected his “very noticeable” bulge might have been an explosive device. “I had my ‘stuff” strapped to the left. I wasn’t erect at the time … One of the guards asked if my pockets were empty and I said, ‘Yes.’ I said, ‘It’s my d**k.’ He gave me a pat down … They even put some powder on my pants, probably a test for explosives. I found it amusing,” said the 41-year-old New Yorker. Falcon joked that next time he’s “just going to wear bike shorts” when traveling. Great idea, Jonah! Click on through to see more of the most amazing d**ks that have ever existed. [Mirror UK]
Sure, teeny bikinis are sexy, but they’re very likely to leave you with a nip slip situation the very second a wave hits. Yet, celebs keep on wearing them to the beach, and getting photographed with exposed nip. Will they ever learn? Probably not. But their choice of swimwear has provided us with lunch time guessing game fodder. We’re just jealous that we’re at our desks and not soaking up the sun on some tropical island. Sigh. Click through and see if you can match the nip slip with the celebrity. Whose nipple belongs inside this white bikini?
Stories of sex work are rarely ever told by the people actually doing the work. And the sex work narrative typically portrays those involved in the industry as victims, martyrs or worse — immoral harlots bent on unraveling the very fabric of society. That’s why the Red Umbrella Project (RedUP) aims to give sex workers a voice: their own. Keep reading »