There is hope. The morning after pill, or Plan B, was cleared today by the Food and Drug Administration as an approved “over-the-counter” contraceptive pill for women over 18! (Under 18 you’ll need a prescription, over 18 just proof of age). That rocks.

Now unto other rocks.

Red Rocks.

Last night I saw my first concert at Red Rocks in Colorado. It was, what I thought, a dream come true, because Ben Harper was playing Colorado while I happened to be visiting the state. I love his first four albums, and I used to have a huge crush on the man himself, and I couldn’t wait to be in between all these beautiful, large red rocks listening to him perform. Truth is, he isn’t great in large amphitheaters and Red Rocks happens to be just that. But, sitting there listening to him play made me think a lot about rocks, and their significance in the lives of the people in this part of Colorado. I grew up in a town called Plainview, which means exactly what it says. Here, in Colorado, there really isn’t a plain view; it’s more of a rocky mountain high.

That same morning, Jonny had taken me to climb his favorite rock, a place called Frog Rock in Evergreen, CO. Before getting to the rock, I had envisioned this small, but substantial rock, one that was easy to climb on, and would offer a great view. When we made the final steps towards the rock, I saw something completely different, and utterly mind blowing. I was walking towards one of the largest rocks I would ever climb (not as large as Ayers Rock in Australia, but you’re not allowed to climb that anymore - and it’s not called than anymore either)…and I was more than a little afraid. I thought Jonny was joking about climbing the rock until we got to the base of the thing. He started climbing up, telling me how to feel my way with the rock, how to trust myself and how I’d be just fine. And that’s when I started crying. It was out of pure fear, but they were real tears. I made it halfway up the rock and had him stop. I had just looked up to see how much farther the trek was, when I noticed that the rock looked slick and smooth and way to vertical to climb. He was so good. He sat with me, until the mentality that I once had when forcing myself to make it to the top of Ayers rock after an unsuccessful attempt, kicked in. I had to make it -for him, and for me.

We started the climb once again, and eventually made it to the top. Of course by this time all I could worry about was how I’d make it back down, when I noticed a split in the rocks. “That’s the other side of Frog Rock,” Jonny explained to me. “It’s a little harder to get to, but it has the better views.” I wasn’t sold. I mean, yeah I’m sure the views on the other side of the rock were nicer, but I was already thousands of feet above sea level, sitting on a large rock, with no climbing gear, and I wasn’t about to make the jump over the chasm. While I wanted to see the view, I didn’t want it to be the last view I saw. Of course my limber boyfriend needed to go. He left his cell phone with me, I thought it was just in case he never made it back, and he proceeded on his way. I watched him clear the one hurdle on the climb that I thought I couldn’t do, and watched him disappear into the rock. So now, alone, I sat on top of this beautiful piece of rock, contemplating my cowardice.

It’s not that I was a coward; I mean I made it to the top of the rock, but it’s just that I didn’t go that extra quarter mile. My mind had already decided against it, and then my body followed suit.

When he returned, which thankfully he did, we stayed up on the rock for a while, and once we were ready to get back down, I realized that it wasn’t going to be as difficult as I had anticipated. There was still one spot that was challenging, but with careful planning I found my way to safety. I felt accomplished, and a bit unaccomplished, all at the same time.

So, I’m listening to Ben Harper, surrounded by these rocks, thinking about how they sort of terrify me. They’re these big ominous creatures of the earth, and they have such a larger presence then we will ever be able to comprehend. They have lasted so much longer than we do, and they will outlast us all (at least some of them). I began to think about climbing these rocks. Actually now every time I look at a rock I’m afraid I’ll have to climb it. (I won’t and I didn’t).

And I thought about how this journey had been filled with rocks. How nothing had been going quite as planned. While I had sort of conquered a tangible rock that day, there were always plenty of less tangible rocks out there to climb as well. Jonny and I are on a rocky road to self-awareness and discovery, and this trip hasn’t been as easy as we had planned. I’m about to come home to a lot of new and exciting times in my life, and, in order to make things work well, I will need to be solid, like a rock. And sometimes I’m too much like a rock, too stubborn - shutting down, and refusing to be penetrated by other people

IN THE FLESH EROTIC READING SERIES
REVENGE OF THE SEX COLUMNISTS!
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 20 at 8 PM
AT HAPPY ENDING LOUNGE, 302 BROOME STREET, NYC
(B/D to Grand, J/M/Z to Bowery, F to Delancey)
Admission: Free
Happy Ending Lounge: 212-334-9676

Hear your favorite sex columnists tell all

The Rainbow. Solarized.

I’m in Colorado right now. Sitting at a kitchen table in Littleton (yes, home of Columbine). It smells clean, the sky is beautiful and we saw the most magnificent rainbow ever yesterday. I’m in love with prairie dogs, although to native Coloradans they’re equivalent to NYC rats. But they’re too cute to be rats, and they bark and I want to take one home with me and call him Harry.

But I don’t think we can get one on the plane. And besides, we’re off to Denver in a few.

The plane ride was turbulent. And I tried to do a smart thing by reserving Jonny and me the aisle and window seats, leaving the middle seat in our row open. Only Jonny sat in the middle seat to be close to me in the window seat, leaving the aisle seat open. After the plane was boarded, I realized (with much excitement and a bit of smugness) that we had beat the system, and no one was going to get in between me and my plan. We were going to have all three seats, the doors were about to close, and that was that. I could sprawl out like a cat waiting to get his belly rubbed. And then it happened.

The smelliest, drunkest man I’ve ever seen get on a plane stumbled onto our plane and proceeded towards his center seat….two rows back. Apparently they had to make a special announcement to get him on the plane because he was too busy getting tanked. He saw our open aisle seat and asked the flight attendant if he could sit there. At first he said no, (go flight attendant) and I tried to convince Jonny to go sit back on the aisle seat, only Jonny stayed planted right where he was. He was convinced that he could go and tell the man that this was our aisle seat, but I thought that, since the plane was fairly full and we were one of the lucky ones with the extra seat, and Jonny was still in the middle seat, that this would make us look bad. So, he just sat where he was, and right before take off, the smelly drunk man was granted permission to move up to our aisle seat (fuck you very much flight attendant).

He sat down right next to Jonny. I almost cried. I was so upset; I couldn’t look or talk to Jonny for awhile. I didn’t want this smelly drunk man in my row, all I wanted to do was stretch my feet out in the center seat and go to sleep. Instead I watched South Park all night thanks to Direct TV. And I got some sort of satisfaction knowing it was not I, but Jonny, who had to sit next to the drunk man who not only smelled like alcohol but who had the stinkiest feet that might have ever existed (yes, he took his shoes off on the flight just to add that cherry on top.) Sometimes I think that should be one of those banned on plane things.

Anyway, we survived. We made it. And I learned a valuable lesson. It’s not always going to go as planned, but it’s always going to go, so it’s best not to make too many plans.

In two weeks I’ll be seeing plenty of this. Fire! Fire!

Last night I gave myself what I’ve diagnosed as a second degree burn. I have a white, blistery bubble on the fuck you finger of my left hand, thanks to the use of a glue gun. I don’t think glue guns are safe for people of any age anymore. I was just trying to pick some hanging lint off the gun, when the glue stuck to my finger. I have never experienced such pain, and I hope to never experience such pain again. Burning is like no other pain. A hot sensation full of anger and loathing, and it didn’t go pulsing, or what I like to refer to as thumping, for over two hours. Cold water could only do so much. I might be surrounded by fire in a week, but I am not going to touch it (yes, I know smart thing not to do anyway).

I so wanted to write more than just two hours before I head off for three weeks, but this week has been about making sure that everything else gets done. Blue’s sitting on the desk, purring loudly, making sure I know that he knows that we’re leaving. Truth is, I don’t think he cares that we’re leaving, although last night he showed me some extra, extra special love that makes me think that maybe he cares just a little. I just think that he cares about getting fed. He will get fed. He always gets fed. He’s a cat with one of those sacks hanging from under his belly, that’s how fed he’s been.

In a few weeks an article entitled “Letters to my vibrators” will be posted where I regularly write. But because I enjoyed just writing the letters so much I’m going to post one here today. This company deserves props for some beautifully elegant vibes. And although, because of time and other maladies, I’ve yet to use their vibes, when I get home it’s the first thing I’m going to charge.

Okay, here it is.

Dear Iris,
You sit in my bedroom, although we

Blue (the bad kitty) has a fetish for drinking water out of other people’s mugs.

I haven’t been revealing in all the projects I’ve been working on mainly because I’m super-superstitious when it comes to what might happen vs. what will happen. But I figured since I’m not writing a lot on the blog, I might as well write about what’s going down at the loveshack (that’s the name of the Internet connection where me and my man live).

Okay. In November the first movie that I co-wrote and produced will come out. It’s an adult video being released by Adam & Eve, and I’m totally psyched about the project (oh, and I apologize if you’ve heard this all before). It was directed by Candida Royalle - legendary woman and friend and couple’s friendly adult film director, and it’s called “Under the Covers.” I have a role in it. My name is Morticia, and while, no I don’t have sex, you get to see my white-as-Casper-the-friendliest-of-ghosts butt cheeks. Plus I play a really good bitch. Fuck you - it IS a far stretch.

(Just an aside, as I type this some woman in my neighborhood is singing opera, and she can hit some rather high notes. That might mean that she gives deep head. Singers, you know, with their straight posture have the capacity to take things down the throat farther).

I just finished my first book for Quiver Press. It’s slated to come out June 1, 2007. The title “Women Loving Women,” is supposed to appeal to straight women who want to try playing around with other women. I’m sure that’s not all that it will appeal to, but I’m happy to have my first book under my belt. Well, the first edit of my first book anyway. I’m writing a proposal for a second book. I think there will be a lot of back and forth before I know if it’s accepted, but it is something I’ve been working on these past few days.

Next, I’m hoping to land a deal with a major adult label to do my first line of How-to-Videos. The deals not sealed yet, and that means it could fall through the cracks, but there’s interest, and I’m definitely interested, and it’s going forward, and that’s a really, really good thing. I don’t want to say anything else until I have the contract. Especially since I’m super-superstitious.

I’m reading on September 20th at Rachel Kramer Bussel’s “In the Flesh” Reading Series. That makes me happy. I don’t know what I’m reading yet, but I know that I AM reading. The night is called Revenge of the Sex Columnists. Come out and enjoy with me. That makes me think about the sex advice I gave to a guy who wanted to have a threesome with his brother and his wife…hmm…I’m also planning on attending tomorrow night’s “In the Flesh” festivities.

I’m leaving town on Friday. Yeah, I’ve said that before, but I’ll say it again. Looking forward to spending almost the next three weeks getting the fuck out of dodge. Not sure what that means exactly, I know it’s a famous quote or something like that, but that’s how I feel.

When I get back I plan on updating my site. An actual links page, new, fresh advice (I just wrote some columns that will come out in the next few weeks and then I’ll post them on the site), updated podcasts - things like that. Plus I plan on starting some new projects as well (see above, and below).

I’m not going to tell you all about the new projects mostly because I don’t know what they are yet, and a little bit because I don’t want to blow my load all in one blog.

But I’m here..for the most part..for the next two and a half days. I won’t be bringing any liquids on the plane (does having to pee count as actually bringing liquids on the plane?), and I’m not sure if I can even bring food to the airport..which kind of sucks, because food is so expensive and the airline I’m flying doesn’t have any of the good stuff - yeah, I know, not sure what the good stuff is.

I’m detoxing, sort of. Only drinking lemon and water or green tea, and I’ve been doing this since last Thursday. It feels good to get some of the party girl out of my system. I’m planning on hanging in here until I GTFOOD (See reference four paragraphs up).

Now here’s the Too Much Information part (FAMILY STOP READING NOW)

I MEAN IT..NOW

DON’T GO ANY FURTHER IF YOU KNEW ME BEFORE I WAS TEN….

I cried after sex the other day. It was strange. Unfamiliar. Liberating and sad. I wasn’t sure why I was crying except that the sickest thought crossed in my mind. It wasn’t the thought itself that was sick, but the fact that I was having the thought. I thought about my grandmother and how lonely she’s been since my grandfather died. And I thought about how I had told her the night before the day I was having sex, that I just wanted her to be happy, and keep living - at least as long as she was truly alive. And I thought about her all alone, in her bed, without my grandfather, who she slept with almost every day for over 58 years. So I called her right after sex. Sex that was hot because we did it in a different position than we had ever done before. And all I could think about was my grandmother.

Sex and grandmothers. Not such a good mix. Wouldn’t you agree?

I’m almost done with Ian Kerner’s book She Comes First. I know, yesterday’s news, I’ve owned the book for a while, just haven’t read it cover to cover. I think part of the reason was because I wasn’t into reading sex advice about a woman from a man, but then I realized I read lots of sex advice for a man from a woman, so what was the big deal? I tried to evaluate where my prejudice came from, and when I couldn’t really think of why I felt this way, I picked up the book. Actually that and when a guy who attended one of my workshops encouraged me to flip through the pages, I picked up the book.

Ian’s got a lot to say, and, he’s got a lot to say about what a lot of other people have to say. I definitely recommend his book to any man who wants to know more about pleasing a woman, or even suffers from premature ejaculation and wants to hear a guy talk about his own problems and how he can please a woman. The book is thorough (200 pages on cunnilingus) and Ian’s got some determination regarding his tongue on her pussy. But, if I’m recommending his book I might as well recommend The Clitoral Truth by Rebecca Chalker as well. It’s a great book about the clit, and he uses a lot of what she has to say in She Comes First.

I would encourage every and any pussy lovin’ person to read the book. You will definitely learn something. That’s the truth.

Now, let’s see. What else is going on. Oh yeah, getting ready for a three week west coast trip. First I’m going to see where my boyfriend’s got roots. As in where he grew up. Then I’m off to Burning Man. I hear fourth times a charm. Even if it’s not, I get to teach hands on workshops out there. Hands on oral sex workshops. Yeah, now you’re curious…

But here, in New York, I get to teach hands off ones. The next ones this Monday.

I know I won’t be blogging regularly once I go away next week, but I promise, upon my return, I’ll be back.

I’m teaching a class for the guys tonight. Pre-register here if you live in NYC, or can get to NYC tonight because you want to talk to me about women and sex.

I love the smell of rain. I’m reminded of this because it’s just rained here in Brooklyn and I can smell the fresh, moisty dampness. Deep breathe in. Aahhh..that smells good. And that makes me want to make two lists:

Things that Smell Good and Things that Smell Bad…well, at least in my opinion.

Okay - the first six I can think of:

Things that smell good:

1. Gasoline being pumped - but only when it’s going in the car, not when it’s going on your clothes.

2. Pork being fried. While I won’t eat it, I can admit it does smell damn fine.

3. Fresh baked pies. But not creme pies sitting out in the middle of summer.

4. Armpits. Dirty or undirty - as long as I’m attracted to the person.

5. China Rain. It’s the oil I use.

6. Belly Buttons. To some people belly buttons smell bad, but I like the smell, at least of my own. (Is that TMI?)

Things that smell bad:

1. Other people’s farts.

2. Other people’s shit.

3. Burning hair or skin.

4. Garbage that’s been sitting out on a hot curb all day.

5. Piss on the street (yes, that happens a lot in NY).

6. Garlic Breath.

This ones for the guys.

Have you been with a woman where size mattered? Not the size of your penis, but more accurately the size of her vagina? What do you do if she’s too large for you? Is there such a thing as too tight (not as in painfully tight, but still too tight)? I’d like to write a piece on this, and I want your input. I’d love any ladies to comment as well, if they know that their size has affected a relationship or if they’ve done anything to change their size, and if it’s worked.

I find it interesting that we often focus on his size, when indeed it can be her size that matters.

Let’s see, what else. I got sucked into Asia Carrera’s blog last night. How tragic. A newly dead husband. A new born baby to go along with her infant daughter, and she birthed him ALL BY HERSELF (really, all by herself). It’s an amazing, inspiring tear jerker kind of story- and I couldn’t stop crying last night. (Yes I’m highly sensitive, always have been).

God damn IMDB TV. I know that’s not nice of me to say, but seriously, I think I mean it. I don’t watch much TV, part of the reason is because I can’t sit still in front on the thing for very long, another part is that there’s never anything good on, and still another part is that we only have five channels in the house (we got a TV to watch movies). But, thanks to the devoted viewership of some friends, we decided to check out the first season of Lost.

After episode four, Jonny wanted to stop. He said we could both stop now before we in to deep, but part of me was already hooked. I was too determined and intrigued and needed to continue watching what all the hype was about. So, we finally got through the entire first season Sunday night. We stayed up late two nights in a row to do it. The first night I was up til 3AM - not a good idea. Last night, watching all the behind the scenes footage, we were up til 1AM. I had dreams about the stickin’ island, but I also had dreams about cockroaches (that’s another story). It was my second night in a row dreaming about Lost.

So, this morning, after getting to know the cast in the two hours of behind the scenes footage, I decide to google this elf guy who I think was in Lord of the Rings (he is), and who plays Charlie in lost. Upon doing so, I learned too much. I learned about a cast member who dies in an episode entitled Live Together, Die Alone, in Season 2 (it’s not out on DVD yet). I didn’t know about it, and now I feel like I know the biggest secret from Season 2, and I’m just upset because IMDB (the internet movie database) didn’t tell me it would put end dates next to the actors names, and it only did this for certain actors anyway. Regardless, it was an unpleasant surprise.

But not as unpleasant as the surprise I got Monday night. After a wonderfully beautiful energy work session from a friend, I was going to make dinner for him and Jonny. Only thing was when I opened one of the kitchen drawers, a drawer I didn’t even need to open so I’m not sure why I did it, I found two dueling cockroaches in the sandwich bags.

Yes. Dueling Cockroaches. They were having a standoff inside of the box of bags. They were big. Not as big as the roach I saw on our window screen a few weeks before, but not those small types of roaches you could mistake for water bugs either. They had long antennae, at least an inch or two in length. And they knew, as soon as I opened the drawer, that they had been caught, but not captured.

My last apartment had lots of roaches. After a while I couldn’t even go in the kitchen without knowing I’d see one, and then I started to react even before I ever did. This is the third and fourth roach I’ve seen in the new place and I’m not a fan of bugs. I don’t want to worry about opening up a drawer, and finding a roach party. Ironically, one of the roaches escaped the plastic bag brawl, while the other ran past me. I tried to spray it with some seventh generation cleaning spray, but since it’s natural or organic or whatever, I think it got away. The other one ended up in the silverware drawer, I guess it has a thing for drawers, and that’s where I tried to kill it with bleach. It didn’t die, and yeah, I know it’s not a nice thing to do. It actually found it’s way on to the wall, where the cat first and finally noticed it. Only now I couldn’t let Blue get it, because if he did, he’d be eating bleach and odds are it wouldn’t be a good thing. So, I got the roach to fall on the stove, on it’s back, and that’s when I turned on the flame. Only thing was it wouldn’t go near the burner, in fact it was moving rather rapidly, on its back, away from the flame. Eventually it just stopped moving, and I assume it died. I then tried to push it toward the flame, only it fell in between the flame and the open space, and now, if it’s dead it’s living in that area of stove right under the burner. If it’s alive I’m fairly certain that its somehow found its way out by now.

It was traumatic for me. Large roaches alone with me in my kitchen. It took a while for me to be able to do anything after that. I had a nice meal planned so I wanted to cook, but I was upset. Eventually Jonny helped me find the courage to cook.

And in my dreams that night, everywhere I went, there were roaches. They didn’t touch me, but they knew where to find me. Jonny says it’s symbolic that I saw the roaches right after my Reiki session. He says that maybe they signify something else. Maybe he’s right, because roaches are potentially my demons. And maybe it was significant in the sense of me battling some demons right now. Not big ones, but demons nonetheless. And maybe this was a battle between two sides of my self, each roach representing what could become of me. I don’t know, just like I don’t know why the f— I opened that drawer in the first place.

Regardless, we’re getting roach traps. That’s for sure.