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Friday, July 28 2006

The opposite of happy thoughts

I’m having one of those days. Those cranky, lethargic, not feeling so good sort of days where I kind of am (how are you kind of, right) nauseated but don’t want to resort to taking an acid reflux pill unless I absolutely have to (update:just did), so instead I drink lots of water in case I’m mistaking my nausea for dehydration as I sit in my third floor apt., that’s if you don’t count the basement, otherwise it’s the fourth floor, wondering if I’ll ever feel like I’ll have a life, and money, again. Wondering if I should get a job that requires I head out of my house everyday, just so the only person I talk to on a regular basis doesn’t have fur and a limited vocabulary.

Maybe it’s because I drank last night that I feel so blah today, I think alchohol has that affect on me. And while I wish I was one of those enlightened beings who could do away with drinking and such, I’m not that strong. Which is ironic, cause in lots of ways I am strong. Just not when it comes to the social intoxicants. Sometimes I think it’s because without them, I’d be less interested in not only being out, but in other people. Or that if most other people are doing something, then I’d have a hard time relating to them as my sober self. I think that’s just my thing. I’m sure it’s not true, otherwise everybody would always be fucked up.

Regardless, today feels rough. I’m not hungover, I didn’t drink that much, just smelly and tired and thinking too much yet again. I’ve got a class to teach tonight, a cat to talk to, and an interview for a magazine article in less than a half an hour. And yet I can’t pull myself together in that wake up sort of way.

I guess it’s just one of those days. Maybe tonight, after sleeping it off, I’ll forget to feel blah, but right now it’s hard. It’s even harder cause things are good now. Real good.

In other vain news. I have this bump on the tip of my nose that will most probably never go away. I’ve had it for a while, and I’m trying not to pick it, but lately there’s something about it that’s irritated the fuck out of me, so now I can’t stop touching and rubbing it. The bump on my nose is so red, I’m waiting for Santa to ask me to guide his sleigh this year (hey, stranger things have happened). It’s not the first dot I’ve gotten on my face, and now, thinking back to high school, I think I cursed myself with this one. There was a girl I knew who had a popped capillary in the middle of her nose. I prayed that that would never happen to me, so of course, I got a popped capillary on my cheek. And now this.

Could it be the power of thought?

If so, maybe it’s time to think of happier things.

In other news: My next column is up at Soudish. And so is a new podcast at Playgirl (well, it’s not that new, but I forgot to tell anyone).

Tell Me You Love Me


Tuesday, July 25 2006

Blowfish Radio

Double the pleasure.

I just went to the “you-must-check-it-out-if-you-haven’t-already-sex-shop-and-info-site” Blowfish, and I’m the latest interview (28th Episode) on Blowfish Radio. I haven’t listened yet, but would love to know what you think. Yeah, I know, they spelled my name wrong. But I like that they called me an extraordinaire.

Tell Me You Love Me


back again..and again..and again…

Why is it that every time I go away I want to write, “guess who’s back, back again..” It’s not that I think I’m Slim Shady, or Eminem, but yeah, in a way I’m a closeted fan - and no, I don’t buy into all of his lyrics. But the guy’s got talent. Haven’t heard much about him lately, but then again, I’m out of so many loops right now.

Glad to be back. I have so much to do before my next and last trip this summer that I feel like I shouldn’t have gone away last week. Won’t say it was a waste of time, but I definitely didn’t need to be gone as long as I was. And I definitely need to learn to say no, or manage my time, or whatever. Regardless I learned a valuable lesson about time - that’s fer sure. And I feel like I’ve used the word time so much in this last paragraph, that it’s become “today’s secret word,” or whatever it was called in Pee Wee’s Playhouse. And every time I say time, maybe we should all scream real loud. It could be cathartic you know.

And speaking of time (you better scream here). Today 5:35PM (give or take a few minutes) I’ll be phoning it in to “Hennican and White” on WOR710 AM (That’s talk radio). We’re going to be talking about the swingers convention in Vegas. Not sure what a swinger is? Well, maybe you should listen to my sexy radio voice and find out

Tell Me You Love Me


Monday, July 17 2006

Gone Fishin’

Well, not literally..but I won’t be online for a week! A whole glorious week! It’s time to get back in touch with nature. Or touch myself in nature. Or whatever. It’s just time.

Tell Me You Love Me


Friday, July 14 2006


I decided to post a blog without thinking much about what it was I would write. I generally think about what I want to say prior to writing, just so I have some clear focus and intention. Only today I realize I’m neglecting this blog for other higher paying gigs (Uhm, I make nothing writing this blog just in case you weren’t sure), and so I’ve decided to spontaneously sit here and type. It’s partially because I can’t think of a good way to start Chapter 5 of the book I’m writing (The chapters called Speaking in Tongues and it’s about oral sex, and I totally think that’s clever, don’t you?) and partially it’s because I don’t think I have all that much to say right now. I’ve been home every night this week doing work, and that’s basically been my whole life. Every time I’m supposed to teach a class it’s cancelled, which sort of makes me feel as if I am jinxed, but not really, and it’s just giving me more time to work, work, work. And speaking of work, I’m trying to think of clever ways to write my first big magazine article right now, btw.

But really, this has become all about me. Although I guess that’s what a blog is when it’s called my not so secret spastic life. I also guess if you decide to name your website the same name as your birthname (except I left out my middle name - which is Michelle just in case you were wondering - and I wasn’t sure how to spell Michelle for the longest time cause I never used my middle name), then that could also make it more about me, but whatever, enough about me, let’s talk about you, what do you think about me?!

Okay, I’ve used that one before. It just never gets old.

Seriously though, if you have a thought on this cunnilingus topic, I’d love to hear it. Email me, okay? What do you love about going down on a woman? I want to know why you do it. And what you love about it, and her, and whatever other juicy details you want to share…

And you can read my latest interview at Souldish

Yeah, sometimes it’s all about me…and sometimes it’s just enough already…

Tell Me You Love Me


Tuesday, July 11 2006

Magic Mushrooms are Magical

Holy Mushrooms Batman!

This article is not a joke…

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - “Magic mushrooms,” used by Native Americans and hippies to alter consciousness, appear to have similar mystical effects on many people, U.S. researchers reported on Tuesday.

This feels like a third graders book report. I’m sure glad Reuters doesn’t stereotype. I mean it must be a fact that Native Americans and hippies are the only kinds of people who ingest “magic mushrooms.”

More than 60 percent of volunteers given capsules of psilocybin derived from mushrooms said they had a “full mystical experience.”

I think Reuters just loves the word mystical. It’s like something hippies would say. Wow man, that’s groovy.

“Many of the volunteers in our study reported, in one way or another, a direct, personal experience of the ‘beyond,”‘ said Roland Griffiths, a professor of neuroscience and psychiatry and behavioral biology at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore who led the study.

Roland Griffiths sounds like he wears a bowtie and extra thick black rimmed glasses. Not the stylish kind though. Do you think Roland G. tried mushrooms? I guess only if he falls into one of two categories. Yep, you guessed it. 1. Native American 2. Hippie

A third said the experience was the single most spiritually significant of their lifetimes. Many likened it to the birth of their first child or the death of a parent.

Wow. That’s pretty powerful. If I ever did drugs, I might be able to agree. At least to a certain extent. Maybe mushrooms can open you up, relax your defenses, and make you see things on another level. But that would be if I ever did drugs.

And the effects lingered.

Two months after getting the drug, 79 percent of the volunteers said they felt a moderately or greatly increased well-being or life satisfaction, according to the report published in the journal Psychopharmacology.

Yeah man, that’s cool.

Griffiths said the drug might be used to treat addiction as well as severe pain or depression.

Pretty trippy. So now people suffering from addicition might just be tripping balls instead. And people who are severly depressed might be happy and high all the time. If you’re in severe pain, you should do whatever the fuck you can to not be in severe pain. If that means eating mushrooms then do it. I bet in capsule form they don’t taste so bad.

Griffiths and colleagues tested 36 healthy, educated volunteers who all reported they had active spiritual lives, the idea being that spiritual people would be less troubled by the drug’s effects.

Maybe it’s just that a spiritual person is more open to the idea of allowing the mushrooms to act as a conduit to open them up? Call it a hunch, but sometimes spiritual people take mind altering substances to get to another place. At least that’s what I’ve read.

Griffiths said he did not want to be accused of working like Timothy Leary, the former Harvard University psychologist best known for his 1960s experiments with LSD, another mind-altering drug.

Yeah but your drugs are natural man. You’re natural. Don’t worry man. And who cares? You are dealing with mind-altering substances. Get over it.

Tell Me You Love Me


Monday, July 10 2006

Remembering Money

I was just googling (I still giggle every time I use that word as a verb) “sex in the news” when up popped the headline, NZ Sex Researcher John Money dies. I googled it some more, trying to find out details about his death and this is the only place I find an obituary.

But now, hours later, I realize he died a few days ago. Better late than pregnant. At least that’s how we - meaning me and my boyfriend - feel these days. Who could afford a third family member? Maybe two people with full time jobs, but we are not those people. Sometimes I wonder if in this relationship, we will ever be those people. And then I wonder if I even want children. I think I do.


Just one.

And I’d prefer it be a boy. Strongly prefer it be that way, in fact. That might be bad karma to say, and that might mean I

Tell Me You Love Me


Thursday, July 6 2006

Working hard for the money

Or lack of money, but still working hard.

If there are any spots left, and you’re interested, I’m teaching a new class tomorrow night for Moxie. It’s a Sexual Positions class, or “Kama Sutra 101″ and I’ve been writing up a six page tip sheet for the class.

Of course it will be my first time teaching this class, so you might want to wait til I’ve gotten over the virgin experience. But then again, some of you like virgins. It’s for ladies only, fyi, so if you’ve got a lingam (and if you’re not sure you should look it up) then you’re sh*t out of luck. Well, until July 13th, when we can tawk about anything at Sexy Spirits - and it’s all about the lingam..or at least there should be plenty of lingam in the audience.

Anyway, until tomorrow…I’ll leave you with this…

Tonight, if you can, try having sex in a doorframe. You both lean your backs against the frame (opposite sides of it), he’s on bottom (or whoever is wearing the penis) and she’s on top (or whoever is getting the penis inside of them). It will require some flexibility, but not too much, and it’s just something new to try.

Want more?

I’m posting again on Souldish.

Tell Me You Love Me


Monday, July 3 2006

More on Faking…

Lou Paget is a fantastic sex educator. I think I thought that before, but forgot about it for a while, and now I’m back to singing her praises. I’m doing a lot of advanced learning, or refreshing, on my sexual knowledge, since, over time, if I don’t use it, I lose it, or at least forget about it for a long period of forever. She said something about faking it that made me feel bad about the things I wrote a few blogs back. Lou’s right on this one. I can’t say that I haven’t faked it, but as a sex educator I wish sometimes I was more honest with myself in the bedroom. Because, yeah, sometimes I lie.

As a woman, if you fake it, a man downloads false information, and therefore he believes that whatever he’s done to make you orgasm has actually be done, and that he should do it again and again. Now, if it didn’t work for you the first time, then it’s not going to work for you every other time either. And once he figures he’s doing it right, he’s going to keep doing it wrong, over and over. So, as a sex educator, and as a woman who’s said there’s nothing wrong with faking it every once in a while, I want to change my tune without sounding all wishy washy. It’s okay to tell him not to worry about your orgasm, or that you can get yourself off. It’s okay to admit that you’re tired and ready for bed and that you love, or like him, anyway. It’s okay to not orgasm, just as it’s okay to pull out a vibrator in the middle of doing it, and come. But I guess it’s not that okay to fake it. You won’t burn in hell, or anything like that, but you won’t be helping your sex life much either. And only you can be responsible for the kind of sex you have. So if you fake it, you’re making a statement about your sexuality as well.

Okay, Okay, I know I’ve faked it in the past, and truthfully I don’t regret it, because over time, I found ways to communicate with the longer term partners, and the shorter term ones, the ones who generally had to ask me “did you come?” often wound up being nothing too special, and we both moved on, and forgot about each other and the sex we had anyway. But now I’m feeling like I had a responsibility not to fake it. To sit there and teach him what I wanted every time. Perhaps yes, I did, but the truth is, I’m only human. And sometimes, especially when it comes to sex, I’m not as professional, at least when it’s personal (meaning it involves me and my sex life). And we all have our shit to deal with. And I’m still learning how to deal with certain things that need dealing with.

I’ve never really call myself a sex expert, although yes, I can probably tell you more about sex than the average person. I’m more of a sexplorer, because expert is such a heavy burden to carry about a subject that we all can relate to. Sex isn’t something you necessarily learn about, unless from experience, and then and only then, after trial and error, do you know what you know. I meet a lot of “sex experts” like myself, who are doctors, nurses, mothers, marketing directors, or waitresses. They’ve decided to experience a lot in their own sex lives, or talk to a lot of people about sex. And while maybe they’ve faked it on occasion too, maybe they’ve had the eggs to never lie. So, going forward, I plan on taking responsibility for my own sex life in a way that I haven’t always been able to. And that’s all I can do.

Tell Me You Love Me