At the recently opened Robot Restaurant in Kabukicho, one of Tokyo’s best-known red light districts, diners can watch bikini-clad go-go dancers perform or sit in giant, scantily-clad, custom-made female robot chairs as they enjoy their meals. I’m not sure what’s on the menu. Something that robots like to munch on, I presume. I’m picturing freeze-dried food for some reason. Bikinis and robots — a winning combination? Well, yes, if it’s a more sensual dining experience you’re in search of. [Vancouver Sun]
Keep on clicking to see more of the world’s sexiest food establishments.
I was listening to Pandora yesterday and randomly–so, so randomly–Garth Brooks’ song “Friends In Low Places” came on. From the first few notes, I was instantly transported back to my rural high school gym, line dancing in a PE uniform and hating my life. But you know what? In that moment I also felt a pang of nostalgia for my tiny Oregon high school (my graduating class had a whopping 75 people in it), and I thought about all the other strange and awful and wonderful experiences I had there. So in honor of Garth Brooks and muddy trucks and parties in the woods, here are 10 ridiculous things that happen at rural, small town high schools… Keep reading »
I went to a wedding this weekend at a beautiful farm outside of Portland. When it came time to eat, we all took our plates outside to sit at picnic tables under a small grove of trees. The sun was out, a pleasant breeze was blowing, horses were frolicking in an adjacent field, and I spent the whole time hyperventilating as a group of yellow jackets darted around the table and one of them leisurely ate my sandwich.
To answer the obvious question, no, I’m not allergic to bee stings, I’ve just harbored a phobia of bees ever since I was a kid (or maybe ever since I saw “My Girl”?) that, to my chagrin, hasn’t abated in adulthood. Here are four ridiculous things I’ve done as a result of my ridiculous fear of bees… Keep reading »
I was telling Ami about an awkward concert experience I had with a guy friend recently, and she was like, “You know, I’ve had so many awful concert mishaps, and most of them involve a guy.” Turns out everyone on the Frisky staff has had at least one concert ruined by a dude, and the stories are way too good not to share. After the jump, check out the funny, awkward, and downright horrible ways guys have ruined concerts for us, and please feel free to share your own in the comments! Keep reading »
Lace, satin and ribbons, oh my! We scoured the internet to come up with the sexiest, sultriest, sweetest pieces of plus-size lingerie, and boy, have we got some hot numbers. From waist-cinching corsets to romantic baby dolls, there’s something for every plus-size lady to feel good in. Check ‘em out above!
Tonight, the boy band One Direction will take the stage at the MTV Video Music Awards for a much-hyped performance. This fact is making me feel very old, because all the young people on the internet are freaking out about it and I’m like, “Wait, what is a One Direction?” This stands in stark contrast to my lifestyle in the ’90s, when my love for boy bands–namely the Backstreet Boys–was so intense I spent all my time talking about them, listening to them, watching their music videos, going to their concerts, writing them semi-desperate letters, making artful collages of their headshots, buying behind-the-scenes DVDs, and planning my inevitable BSB wedding. Yep, I knew–and still know–pretty much everything there is to know about the Backstreet Boys, but I know pretty much nothing about One Direction. Here are nine specific discrepancies that my 14-year-old self would be ashamed of… Keep reading »
The first thing you need to know is that I didn’t start masturbating until the age of 17. I’d gone through the ol’ puberty at 12 – I’d felt the universal stirrings down below – but it took me that extra five years to work out what I ought to do about it. Had I been interviewed at age 15 about female arousal, I would’ve said something like, “The only way to reach orgasm is through having sex.”
I believed that this feeling, whatever it was, could be … solved, let’s say, solely through use of the male penis. (As though there’s any other kind!)
But, oh: How wrong I was.
It’s hard to remember exactly what happened when finally it struck me all those years later that I could tend to things myself. I know the movie “Gas, Food, Lodgings” was involved. I’d been watching it in the basement of my family’s empty house, and there’d been some scene wherein some attractive male actor pushes Ione Skye up against a wall, and then they have very satisfying sex in an upright position in what appears to be a cave. It was terribly arousing, and the house was so terribly empty, and somehow, finally, I saw my right hand, and I knew. Keep reading »
With election season upon us, the call is out for campaign volunteers, and many of us are hitting the pavement to help the candidates and causes we believe in. Besides phone-banking, the most common form of civic engagement is canvassing, which basically consists of hanging out on the street with a clipboard or going door to door talking to voters. I’ve canvassed to drum up support for politicians, gather signatures for Planned Parenthood, and spread the word about marriage equality. It’s not my favorite thing to do, but it’s an important job, and at the end of the day I feel accomplished–plus I always head home with some great stories to tell. Whether you’re an experienced canvasser or are thinking about getting in on the action, here’s a little summary of the people you’ll meet in a typical afternoon on the job… Keep reading »
I don’t obsessively wash my hands; in fact, I spend most of my time barefoot, germs faze me that little. I don’t feel an inexplicable need to count things. I don’t have any good luck charms, either physical (objects) or mental (numbers, letters, etc.). But I do have moderate OCD that has, over the course of my life, manifested itself in various ways at varying degrees of intensity.
OCD runs in my family; both my late grandmother and my uncle were/are incredibly repetitive people. My mom also has certain OCD behaviors; leaving her neat and orderly nest to go to college caused my OCD to emerge so I could instill a sense of order that I needed to feel safe. Looking back, my most extreme periods of obsessive compulsive behavior coincided with times when I was most unhappy, stressed, or conflicted about something. Attending to my various OCD needs gave me a place to focus all my anxiety and helped calm my mind. For a few years, I cleaned my apartment constantly, mopping the kitchen floor three times a day and fretting over whether my bedspread was laid perfectly symmetrical across my bed. I could spot a dust bunny from 30 feet away. It was maddening, but you could eat breakfast off my bathroom floor.
Nowadays, for a variety of reasons — medication that manages my associated issues with anxiety and ADD, general satisfaction with my life, ongoing therapy, a housekeeper who comes once a month, and new learned coping mechanisms — my OCD is much better. Sometimes I let dishes sit in the sink overnight. My remote control does not have to sit perfectly straight on my coffee table. I would vacuum less if Lucca didn’t shed so much. But my OCD does come out in some kind of random, less obvious ways. Here are some of them… Keep reading »