Reader Mail--Japanese Edition! "This is art, dude!"

The sadness of unfavorable penis-to-bowtie size ratio.

I'm been on a bit of an extended Japanese jag, so let's finish this tangent off with some reader mail, shall we?

--Christina sent an email with the subject line--but of course--"Sooo...this made me think of you."

"I abhor parades," she wrote. "But this? Definitely a must see. Japan's Annual Penis Festival Is As Phallic As You'd Expect."

Yes, April 6 was Kanamara Matsuri, the "Festival of the Steel Phallus," which features phallic-centric activities such as the wearing of penis hats and the sucking of penis lollipops. (April 7, I think, marks the "The Day Penis Lollipops Are 50% Off.")

The celebration, the continuation of an ancient tradition, is a jolly street festival with penis seesaws, much crossdressing and giant penises being hoisted down the street. The woman hoisting that giant penis down there (below) doesn't look especially jolly about her role in the day, but in truth, I'm not certain what the appropriate expression is, really, for heavy penis hauling. I assume she is pondering the series of life choices that led to this exact moment in her life. But perhaps I am projecting.

Woman questioning life choices.

The penis, by contrast, looks quite happy, despite its lack of accompanying body. Everyone likes to be acknowledged, I guess. Or perhaps it's the penis' still unrealized hope that this will be the year they finally run into the Hime-no-miya Masuri, or Grand Vagina Festival.

--Next, this from Trista, who through international efforts, solved the mystery of what the talking onahole is saying:

"Hi! My friend [ed: let's call him Anonymous] is partway through a JET career in Okinawa. Though raised in the US, his father and extended family hail from that southern archepelago of Japan. Anonymous-san is currently engaged teaching the wonders of English to middle school Japanese students, the bravest of whom might possess their very own 'onahole'.

Anyway, I sent him your posting, and this was his response. :) I was hoping he'd send it in, but apparently he's shy:

What the Onahole is saying is (roughly): "Read the attached warning!"
 
The other stuff is just notes on various features of the product. e.g., the grey bubble on the top right reads: "THIS IS ART, DUDE! The start of the sinewy shaft is a perfect reproduction!" (I'm taking license with the translation. Direct translation sounds weird as hell.)

He also notes that the "ona" is for onanism (see also: How Wanking It Created The Universe and Other Theories on Masturbation). Thank you, Trista and Anonymous-san! It's oddly pleasing to me to think of dear, shy Anonynous-san way over there in Japan poring over tiny Onahole kanji so we all may Learn.

--And finally James alerted us to the existence of the Furu Furi Ona Shaker, which is an Onahole cleaner, somewhat like a cocktail shaker but with really awesome graphics on the outside. Look!

I like that guy there at the bottom with the big ol' afro shaking his Onahole clean. He does a nice job on Glee too.

Shown here forcing Sue Sylvester to behold his freshly cleansed Onahole.

But mostly I love the cheery expression on the little white shaker character. Like there's nothing he likes more the sight of someone's ravaged splooge-filled Onahole headed his way.

My series of life choices? A-OK!

Ads for the shaker feature a somewhat confusing series of diagrams which seem to be instructions on cleaning one's well-fucked and now languid, post-coital Onahole, like this:

Step #4

...and this....?

....Huh?

...but could just as easily be instructions on making the world's ickiest knickknack.

"World's Greatest Lover"

xoxo
jill

(source for photo of sad clown man)

DIY Edible Underwear

These were called Candypants. Shiny.

"New business idea," writes Janet in response to Taste Like Your Worst Nightmare. "Gourmet edible undies for foodies -- stuff like Meyer lemon tart that you sprinkle powdered sugar on after said panty wearer has them on. Molten lava cake that comes with whip cream lube. Then there's the savory edition so you could actually skip dinner and go straight to the sex--sushi flavored panties in assorted fancy rolls, beef wellington, and for the vegetarian, quinoa with chick peas and kale. I think there's a big opportunity here:)"

Yeah... Maybe.... 'Cept it's kinda been done. As my genius friend Bill put it on Facebook yesterday, "Yes, yes. This is every goddamn day of my life," linking to The Onion's Best, Most Original Idea Man Has 114, 000 Search Results.

Which brings us to this instructional (sewing pattern? recipe?) for DIY Beef Jerky Underwear.

Yep.

The recipe contains hot sauce and liquid smoke, which seems problematic, but I suppose if you're come to terms with the other accompanying comfort issues inherent with crotch/dried meat contact, you're probably good.

Isn't this wasteful? asked one earnest commenter.

"Where is the waste?" answered another. "They are edible. No doubt the plan is to eat them off your partner. [D]epend[ing on] the size they would be good for more than one fun time activity, pretty much guaranteeing they will be consumed to the last bit."

So, yeah, problem solved. You gnaw away at it until it all gets too sexy and arousing and the meat underwear must --must, please now!--be savagely and hastily removed. Then, next time you're feeling randy, drag those raggedy-ass, half-eaten jerky pants out of the pantry and don them suggestively. Maybe run around a bit or do a few squats, to further arouse your partner as well as soften them up for easier chewing.

My favorite comment was from one Wazzupdoc. "Let's bump this up a notch. Jump in the hot-tub to soften things up a bit and chew away! Secondary benefit? Soup!"

xoxox
jill

ps.  In Bed With Married Women is currently the #1 highest-rated and #3 best-selling erotica blog on Kindle. Clearly Amazon has a pretty loose definition/strange concept of erotica, but I'll take it. Though I do feel a bit sorry for anyone buying it expecting some sexytime reading and instead discovering a big ol' picture of meat underwear.


(photo source)

Diagnosis: A Case of Femaleness

I look GOOD. Damn good.

In the past few days, I've hit a perfect storm of media consumption that has spun me into a feminist spiral. So if you're not into wild-eyed ranting, please avert your eyes.

It all started with a friggin' Campfire girl meeting. A high school girl showed a short film she'd made on body image, then in a halting, nervous voice told about her struggles with an eating disorder. By the end, every mother there was in tears. In tears! Because we totally got it. We all had our thing--too fat, too thin, hair too weird, butt too little, butt too big, etc...--that made us so horribly not right.

The next night, I watched a Netflix doc called "Orgasm Inc." It was about how in the past few years, pharmaceutical companies, along with willing shills in the medical community, have popularized the "disease" of Female Sexual Dysfunction (FSD). (Not to be confused with FTD, which provides human females with unattractive flower arrangements).

"I think there is dissatisfaction and perhaps disinterest among a lot of women, but that doesn't mean they have a disease," said Dr. Sandra Leiblum, professor of psychiatry at Robert Wood Johnson Medical School in "Myth of female impotence 'created'" in the BBC News.

Word.

I'm not arguing that some women don't have sexual problems that could be improved medically, but a lot of the FDS "symptoms" are just the way women are. Yes, women can take a long time to come, yes, women can take awhile to get aroused (note: FTD flowers will not speed arousal time), and, yes, women get pissed at their mates which, yeah, fucking does affect desire.

In this study of FDS among women in Lower Egypt:  Marital disharmony, 'hate' and unfavourable socio-economic circumstances were the most common aggravating factors (28.1%) for sexual dysfunction among the participants, followed by pregnancy-related events.

I'm not a doctor, but as far as I know, there is not a pill for curing "unfavourable socio-economic circumstances" and the like. (Although if there were, I would so fucking take it.)

One middle-aged women in Orgasm, Inc., ("middle-aged" = older than me) volunteered to be a guinea pig in some freaky-ass experimental procedure in which electrodes were inserted into her back. Into her back, as in under her skin. Did I mention that this was a totally untested procedure by, for all she knew, a completely iffy doctor?

The implants did nothing for her besides causing her to kick her left leg at random times. (This new trick, while novel and exciting, did not help her sex life.) The creepy invasive procedure did nothing to cure her "problem" which was--oh, dear god--inability to come during intercourse. Not inability to have an orgasm. Not inability to come if someone paid a whit of attention to her clit. No, this woman, raised on the notion that women's sexuality is just like men's--stick in it, pull it out, repeat til orgasm--believed that if she couldn't come from penetration alone, she was "ill."

I so wish she could have read an article like this from RH Reality Check which took special care to state in the very biggest and boldest of fonts:

The majority of women -- according to most studies, at least 70% -- do not and will not reach orgasm through vaginal intercourse or vagina-only stimulation (like "fingering" that's only about vaginal insertion) only.

So yeah, a little testosterone might help you out a bit (I said might--even this isn't certain), but seems to me the best way to alleviate FSD would be to spend a little time on arousal, make sure the female parts that feel pleasure are actually the parts that get stimulated (did I really just have to fucking write that sentence?)...plus a bunch of boring stuff like providing favorable economic conditions for the ladies and whatnot.

What is that? You have more sexual problems, you say? You've suddenly realized that your vag is not completely normal as you'd thought for years and years, but, in fact, hideously ugly and in need of surgical intervention. Don't worry, my ugly little freak, Vaginal Rejuvenation (i.e. plastic surgery for your vag) will fix any and all labia deemed unsightly.

What's sightly and what is not? Well, the highly lucrative Genital Mutilation Vaginal Rejuvenation centers that have popped up in the last few years (Hey....isn't that about the same time you started becoming displeased with your own vag? *shrugs* Weird.) have to find some way to keep the ladies coming in so currently they've determined that "too long" labia are "out." If you go ahead and get them shortened, I sure hope that long labia don't come into vogue because then you'll be bumming, huh?! (See also: The Sneetches by Dr. Seuss).

Check out these before and after Gential Muti Vaginal Rejuvenation photos from one place "helping" women.

Seriously!!!??? Not only did this chick not realize that she had a perfectly fine vag (I think it's a good one, actually, don't you?) but she actually thought it was so heinous that it required surgery--surgery!--to "correct". (Expensive surgery too. When I googled "vaginal rejuvenation" for you, the sponsored link offered a raffle for $1000 off. If they're offering $1000 off, you know that $%$# ain't cheap. Although I have to admit that the concept of a vag. rejuvenation raffle is sort of appealing in its utter wrongness. Coming soon...penile bleaching cake walk.)

Okay.

I would hope that we women would all come to our fucking senses and just...stop it. Realize how totally fine we are and get on with more important things (see above: taking time with and enjoying arousal). At the very least, I can think of about 6 million better ways to spend our time and money than getting friggin' surgery.

However, as it looks now, I think that the only things that's changing is that more men are buying into this crap too with their pec implants, ED drugs, and the like.

My big wish is that one day someone will be lying on an operating table, legs open wide as they watch a surgeon walking toward them eyeing their groin and wielding some sharp pointy thing and the patient ("patient" = "regular person misled by fucked up societal norms") will think, "What the fucking hell am I doing?!?"

And, O, they shall Rise Up and Spread their Enlightenment among the people, who shall toss aside their sense of shame and unworthiness, and be free to rush forth into the forest where they shall fuck freely and joyfully under the dense green canopy of the trees. (Note: future scenario includes ecological renewal, elimination of STDs, and men and women with true knowledge of each other's sexualities. Void where prohibited by law.)

xoxo
jill

P.S. Meanwhile, just yesterday, I paid $45 for a tube of cream that promises to even out skin tone. One of the ingredients "might cause mercury poisoning."

Fuck.

(photo source)

Postpartum

Meanwhile, in a parallel universe

So depressing was my image of the post-election day Fuck Chair yesterday that several people were compelled to write to me asking if I was okay.  Which yes, and I am beyond grateful that so many people would be on the lookout (you never know!).  And of course, at the same time, I am also not okay with what the fuck happened on election day.

Yesterday my mother called us and on speaker phone gave my girls an incredibly moving speech about not listening to the messages they were hearing and to know that they still had value, dammit.  This is something you don't generally have to tell people. Anyway, at the end we were all weeping.

Then my 15 year old daughter went and made a Sim of Tr*mp wetting his own pants while over-Tweeting. My friend said we shoulda done the one where he was in a pool then taken away the ladder, but this felt like a cleaner, though immature, schadenfreude.

Oh. Yeah.

Today I am in the anger phrase which I expressed by writing a disturbingly long comment to some dude on Facebook I barely know. I recognize that that was not a good use of my time.

In other news that now sounds jarringly hollow and not nearly as fun as it did when it heard it last week, I was #8 on Kinkly's Top 100 Sex Blogging Superheroes of 2016. I adore the site and turn to it for surreptitious midnight web searches on "How do you do X?" or "Wtf is Y?" But what wrecked me* the most with how they so got what I'm trying to do here:  "This blog is funny - like, hilarious - but it's also thoughtful in a way that leaves you feeling a little better about yourself after you read it. We like that." 

And, yes, I do hope I leave you feeling a little better about yourself sometimes, or at least that I've reminded you to do all necessary peeing before embarking on a Tweet storm.

xoxo
jill

* I am highly motivated by extrinsic rewards.  Not good, but hey, it's not smoking crack so I'm not gonna worry about it too much.

November 9, 2106

If you need me, I'll be sitting here for a while. 

xoxox
jill

12 Things I Learned On My Sex Toy Factory Tour!

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