Do you know how many times I’ve heard the phrase “dick cheese”? So many times. Countless times. “Period goobers”? Not so much. It’s time to change this, y’all.
Dudes get to talk about their balls and penises in public all the friggin’ time. They’re so used to being able to talk openly about their dicks that many of them have come to believe that talking about their dicks is an acceptable way to flirt. And balls — blue balls, ball-busting, having things by the balls, having the balls to do stuff — fucking testicles are pervasive in our lives.
I propose changing this by going all-in and talking about our periods openly and graphically. We talk about penises so much that pretty much everyone has a working knowledge about penises and the things they do and go through. Let’s get real real about our vaginas and our lady times. We’ve made penises into sort of lovably comical objects, and it’s time we did the same for poon. I’ll get the ball rolling (SO TO SPEAK): Keep reading »
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 »