Before Tiger Woods gave his celebrity endorsement to sex addiction, we debated whether it’s an easy excuse or a mental health issue. But now it seems more people are treating it as a serious condition. Sex addiction has gone mainstream in movies like “Shame” and now “Thanks For Sharing,” out today.
We already took a look inside sex rehab clinics to find out what to expect when you’re reforming, but here are seven facts about sex addiction you might not have been aware of already. Read more at Tres Sugar…
We all though about it at one point or another. Okay, I did. Surely, Beanie Babies will be worth millions someday! Don’t you dare cut off that heart-shaped Ty tag! You could sell Patti the Platypus on eBay for probably thousands of dollars by 2010.
Unfortunately, such days have yet to come. Despite this disappointment, Chris Robinson’s family is instead seeking comfort in the knowledge that when the day comes when Beanie Babies make their comeback — and that day will come, dammit! — they’ll be prepared to cash in. Over the years, the Robinson family, primarily driven by Chris’s father, has collected between 15,000 and 20,000 Beanie Babies in the hopes that these toys would make nice college tuition funds for their five kids. This short documentary, by Chris Robinson himself, called “Bankrupt By Beanies,” is kind of cute but also sort of sad. Collecting Beanie Babies turned into an obsession for this man, but also proved to be a source of bonding for the family. And who knows, maybe some day Beanie Babies will get their second coming and the Robinsons will emerge victorious. [Boing Boing]
Last week, the controversial professor, feminist blogger and personal essayist Hugo Schwyzer announced on his blog, in an interview with NYmag.com and again in LA Weekly that he was retiring his notorious public persona and quitting the internet for good (or— for the time being, he corrected himself some days later in yet another goodbye). Maybe you don’t know or care who this person is and that is just as well. He is a semi-big deal in the feminist blogosphere in the way that Serge Haroche is probably (hopefully) an even bigger deal among mathy-type people (he won the Noble Prize in Physics in 2012, according to this random website I found when I Googled “Nobel Prize winners”). And maybe we should all know more about Serge Haroche. But here we are talking about Hugo. (For a complete list of criticisms of Hugo’s work, you can go here. Or here. Yes, there are entire websites created for the sole purpose of criticizing this man and his work.) [Note: A few of Schwyzer's pieces on The Good Men Project were crossposted on The Frisky a few years ago.]
I can’t help it. Honestly, I’m kind of obsessed with him. As a freelance writer as well as a writing instructor — I teach courses in memoir, personal essay and opinion writing, the genres that both Hugo and I write — this whole brouhaha is pushing all my buttons. Some people are taking a certain joy in this character’s downfall — which I feel is mean but, yes, a little tempting. Like many, for me, the redemptive narrative of Hugo Schwyzer always rang less than true. Keep reading »
Every once in awhile a story so strange, so bizarre or so WTF comes along that it leaves us no choice but break it down into its most essential parts and try to make sense of it all.
We knew Tanning Mom might have a drinking problem when she had a drunken spill and flashed her panties on the red carpet at NYC’s XL Hot Mess Drag Review. We were hoping that once she got tan sober that she would also cut back on the booze. No such luck on either front. Last week, Patty Kretcil hit rock bottom when she was pronounced too drunk to fly at a Minneapolis airport and placed in detox.
Days later, a report confirmed that Tanning Mom checked into rehab at Lukens Institute in Palm Beach, Florida, with Michael Lohan at her side. Uh, wait. What does Michael Lohan have to do with this? Well, aside from his own experience with rehab — both his own and his daughter’s, it turns out that Tanning Mom and Papa Lohan are old friends from Cold Spring Harbor High School in Long Island. I don’t even want to know what their superlatives were. [TMZ]
This is how it begins. He asks me to stand before him in my lace underwear, high heels, hose and bra. He sits in a chair and watches closely as I disrobe, making approving noises, even winking to put me at ease.
“Turn around please,” he says and then, “Yes, right there. Stop there.”
Even though we’ve been married for over three years, I’ve never done anything like this sober. I don’t know what to do, or where to put my hands. Without the buzz and fog of alcohol, I am clumsy and giggly and awkward. Keep reading »