Life is an adventure, or that’s what I told myself yesterday, as a small tube was inserted into my butthole. Hold on, let me backtrack. A few weeks ago, a friend in PR asked if I wanted to write about something called the Optimum Detox Treatment offered at Manhattan’s Paul Labrecque Salon and Spa. Naturally, I said yes, because who turns down free spa treatments? Not I! To be honest, I kind of just skimmed the email with all the details and then forgot about it until yesterday evening, when I remembered my appointment. It wasn’t until I was clad only in a robe, reclining back in a super comfortable and high tech massage bed that I realized I had no idea what this “detox treatment” was all about. A facial? Perhaps a massage? Maybe I’d be slathered in some mineral-y mud and wrapped up with seaweed?
Yeah, not quite. Instead, I found myself with a tube up my butthole on a Monday evening after work. Because part two of the Optimum Detox Treatment — part one involved infrared light and will be discussed in another post — was a colonic. Surprise! Keep reading »
Thanks to recent research in the Netherlands, we now have confirmation that when we’re in prime mode to get it on, what may normally gross us out no longer does.
The subjects in what I will refer to as the “gross sex study” were given a cup with an insect in it to drink, and were made to wipe their hands on used tissues. (They later found out that the insects were plastic and the tissues weren’t really dirty. Sneaky researchers!) The participants who were sexually aroused during this behavior were far less disgusted than those who weren’t.
What does this mean? When we’re attracted to someone, we could give two s**ts about their body hair or breath. Here are a few “gross” things about men that we ladies kindly overlook when we’re all hot and bothered. Read more…
So, a zoo keeper in China took on the incredibly gross but selfless task of licking a monkey’s butt to save its life. A leaf monkey at the Wuhan Zoo became dangerously constipated after it ingested a peanut that had been thrown in its enclosure. Zhang Bangsheng determined that the peanut was too large to pass through the monkey’s system on its own and therefore had to be extracted manually by licking and sucking it out. After the jump, Jessica and I discuss over IM. Keep reading »
My fairly new boyfriend Todd was a nice-enough looking guy with some questionable grooming habits. I tried to tell myself that these minor, easily fixable flaws shouldn’t influence how I felt about him.
But instead of gazing into Todd’s eyes, I found myself staring at his nose hair, fixated. Brownish-grey tufts looking like steel wool sprouted from his nostrils. An occasional bit of crust hung from his nose hairs like food caught in a beard.
Nothing says “I love you” like buying your man a nose hair trimmer. In retrospect, I realize that Todd could have gotten (justifiably) offended. But while he “didn’t see what the big deal was,” he reluctantly agreed to try the trimmer out. Todd examined the miniscule blades that didn’t appear sharp enough to cut the nose hairs of a squirrel. He turned on the trimmer and held it to the edge of his nostril as if afraid it would get sucked in too deep and shred his brain. Keep reading »
Usually I find The New York Times Style section to be embarrassingly behind the times. Recent articles include trend pieces on people playing Big Buck Hunter at bars and the popularity of Twitter hashtags. “What’s next? An article about this new TV show called ‘Jersey Shore’?” I am prone to joking.
However, for the first time in a while, this week’s Style section features an article that is relevant to my immediate interests. Sort of. “Powder Surge: It’s A Guy Thing” is about men using talc, baby powder, and fancier branded powders to keep their nether-regions dry during the hot summer months. Basically, the NY Times printed an article about ball sweat and how men deal with it. Keep reading »
I consider myself lucky because for the better part of 31+ years, I have lived a relatively allergy-free life. But that good fortune also means that when I suddenly found myself responding badly to the uptick of pollen in the spring air I could not shut the f**k up about suddenly having allergies. Seriously, I have been a huge baby for the last two weeks, whining incessantly about the pain in my sinuses, the never-ending snot clogging my nostrils, and the disgusting post-nasal drip tickling at the back of my throat. I’ve been moaning about it on Twitter, in my Facebook status updates, and to anyone who will listen, including my poor neighbors who have no doubt tired of hearing me snort and hack phlegm. Keep reading »
I recently spent the weekend in bed with a terrible stomach bug. At the stroke of midnight on Friday, I began puking my brains out, and what didn’t come up as vomit came out the other end. The next day, I thought the worst of it — the diarrhea — was over, but I was still happy when my boyfriend Nick showed up with supplies to calm my still-upset stomach. We hung out in bed, watching cartoons, while I drank ginger tea and tried to stop passing gas. One particularly gross fart sputtered forth and I sat very still. Keep reading »
Yesterday morning, I woke up with a rather painful sore throat. I headed straight for the mirror and open my mouth as wide as I could, peering down my throat in search of swollen glands or major redness. Instead, I saw white bumps on what I assumed to be my tonsils. I headed straight for the internet to do a little self-diagnosis, thinking surely I had strep throat or some other incredibly annoying infection that would require a trip to the doctor. And while I might have an infection that requires a trip to the doctor, the point of this post is not my health and well-being. The point is to discuss a little thing I discovered while doing my research called “tonsil stones.” (Gross photo after the jump, FYI.) Keep reading »