The line between super sexy and super skinny is THIN (har har har)

Last night I watched the Victoria’s Secret fashion show because well, I have a huge lady crush on Adriana Lima, I have a previously confessed panty problem and also was in the mood to stare at a few dozen boobs parading down a runway. The show opened with a black-swan lake moment, “The Ballet,” then a “Super Angels” supertits show, then some goth inspired corset stuff titled “I Put a Spell on You,” and, my favorite—the “Angels Aquatic” mermaidy theme. Hello jelly boobs. I mean, jelly fish.

Now growing up I remember poring over Victoria’s Secret catalogs—remember when Tyra was a model for them? Now I don’t want to call the catalog models “normal” looking because there is nothing “normal” about a picture perfect, Is-That-Airbrushed, where do you COME from woman who I suspect was really made in a factory in Brazil. Adrianna Lima, Alessandra Ambrosio, Orlando’s Baby Mama—they all grace the pages looking super toned and fit, but healthy. Healthyish, at least.

This was not the case with the runway show, and I must say I was pretty disheartened. The aforementioned trio was there looking slammin’. (Even Miranda Kerr who had Orlando’s baby 10 months ago!! Bitch. Just kidding, power to your hot woman-ness.)

Many of the models looked like they were at a healthy weight, but there were also a handful looking freakishly skinny. Like, heroin chic thin, which I thought went out of style in the 90s? No? Anyway, I turn to Victoria’s Secret for Tits and Ass. And if their models are all clavicle and hip bone and make me want to throw a cookie at my TV set, then there is a problem! The costumes were great, the lingerie amazing, but some of the models were clearly not at a healthy weight, and it made me upset. Scarily thin, I’m-all-elbows-and-knees type bodies don’t hold sex appeal, nor are they something to be coveted. SO please Victoria’s Secret—next year make sure your models have a little more meat on their bones—it will send a better message, and will help them fill out their bra/panty sets better, too.

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This is not a finger puppet…

I’ve had a handful of people email me recently for sex toy suggestions—doing a little holiday shopping, perhaps? One reader asked for a “beginner friendly” toy, while another asked for one that is good for using with a friend. Enter the PicoBong Ipo Finger Vibe, which is as fun to use as it is to say. PIICCCCOOOBONG. Sounds like a cute cuddly Japanese anime.

This cute little bullet shaped toy fits over a finger and is small enough for travel and discreet storage. Plus, if you want to use it with a friend, it won’t make them feel inadequate the way bringing some 9 inch monster truck into bed would. It has 12 speeds, the highest of which could probably cause some teeth chattering. Despite its power-toolesque capabilities, it is pretty quiet, which is key if you live with people who would probably be uncomfortable hearing a lawn-mower in your bedroom at midnight.

This is actually the first toy whose “pulse” speed, or should I say speeds (it has 12 pulse varieties) actually appealed to me. A while back, while showing a toy to a friend, he asked me why that toy didn’t have a pulse option.( I do this on occasion, like a dog bringing its favorite bone to a new house guest. Look what I got! Tail wags all around.)

“No one uses pulse, anyways. It’s not a blender,” I replied.
“I am sure someone uses it, or they wouldn’t keep making vibrators with pulse options,” he commented, logically.
“Whoever keeps putting out pulsing vibes clearly has no clitoris,” I retorted. Because really, who wants to be flicked repeatedly in your most sensitive area? That sounds like a mean play-ground game.

Now, this doesn’t happen often, so pay attention to what I am admitting here: I was wrong. Apparently I just had some bad experiences with past pulse settings, because the Finger Vibe pulse option may have just ruined my social life. The only qualm I have with it is that in order to get the pulsey goodness, you have to first take the toy to full speed. Some ladies are sensitive and full speed—pulse or no pulse—might make them a bit numb.

Tell me your favorite sex toy, please. Do you use the pulse option for anything other than making soup in your Cuisinart?

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Please read (preferably aloud). This is what happens after a Tuesday night of decriminalized debauchery with K. The reason I find this so amusing is the blaring difference between the Wikipedia definition and the Urban Dictionary definition. I will never be able to look at udon noodles the same….

"8 will do"

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No Cruelty; No Eggceptions

I know a handful of “almost vegans.” These include friends and my super cool holistic doctor. They avoid all meat, and most dairy. What’s the one thing that makes up the majority of that 10 omnivorous percent? Eggs. For some reason, eating eggs just doesn’t seem as wrong to them as a filet or tenderloin or hunk o’ cheddar. Perhaps it’s their touted health benefits or the fact that they don’t have a tell-tale fleshy consistency. Or perhaps it’s that they taste so damn good fried, scrambled and poached. Who knows the reason for it, but eggs continue to squeak by the meat-o-meter for aspiring vegans. Which is why this whole Sparboe Farms investigation has struck such a chord with me—I obnoxiously sent it to a few of my friends who are constantly making eggceptions. Yep, I’m that girl.

An undercover investigation, put on by Mercy For Animals, brought forth some disturbing animal cruelty in the country’s fifth largest egg producer, and the egg distributor for bigwigs like McDonald’s, Target and Sam’s Club. The result? The companies dropped them. This is big freakin’ news for animal-loving activists all over, because not only have these companies recognized the tragedy occurring in factory farms (or at least THIS factory farm), but they are doing something about it by dropping them. In the past, I would have expected them to turn a blind eye or make false investigations and false demands for improvement—all tactics that have been done before to throw the public off the scent of exploitation.

I am not going to go into the gory details of what the undercover investigation brought forward, because it’s upsetting, and I’m sensitive dammit! But you can read about it here.

A quote: As the largest egg purchaser in the United States, McDonald’s has enormous power in effecting improved standards of care for egg-laying hens. Accordingly, MFA is also asking that McDonald’s actively support a recent agreement between the United Egg Producers and The Humane Society of the United States that seeks to establish federal regulations that would provide hens enough space to turn around, as well as environmental enrichments, such as perches and nesting boxes. The agreement is a modest but important first step in establishing minimal standards for care of birds on a federal level. Sadly, Sparboe Egg Farms is aggressively opposing the implementation of even these meager reforms to reduce animal suffering.

Hopefully this investigation—which has garnered some serious attention on Good Morning America, 20/20, and World News with Diane Sawyer—will encourage more people to cut factory farmed eggs (and maybe all eggs!! Yes? Maybe?) out of their diets. Not that I am a huge Mickey D fan, but I am glad they are taking a step in the right direction. Now if we could just get some insight on the practices of their beef and pork suppliers…

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Tomorrow is Thanksgiving! I will be unbuttoning my pants and thanking the world I have a family who loves me enough to leave the butter out of all the Thanksgiving sides.

Thanksgiving is a great time for families all over America. It is, however, a terrible time for turkeys all over America. In Eating Animals, Jonathan Safran Foer comes to the conclusion that turkeys may bear the worst of animal cruelty, and I don’t want to get into it here because it makes ME SO MAD. Even though I think turkeys are hideous, and they look like they have mutated genitalia hanging off their chins, I love them and respect them and think they are wonderful in an awkward Aw-Look-At-That-Cute-Old-Man sorta way so it pains me to think of them stuffed in cages and debeaked and defeathered and…

Mother Nature is cruel, and I am so sorry

However, as much as I am anti-EatABird on Thanksgiving, I will tell you who is more anti-gobble, and that’s PETA. I support PETA. I think what they do is great. But damn if they don’t terrify me. And if they terrify me, a vegan, think about the fear they instill in omnivores everywhere! Don’t piss off PETA or you will be enjoying your lunch at the Four Seasons one day and then BOOM someone has thrown a dead maggot infested raccoon on your plate! True Story.

So here is an ad that PETA wanted to run during a slot in this year’s Macy’s Day Parade showing but it was rejected by NBC.

[youtube] Another interesting PETA Thanksgiving campaign, also directed at children, is the following:

Now I sort of don’t agree with marketing anything to children, and I won’t get into rant No. 95776 about why I will home school my children and refuse to let them watch television, but real talk stop aiming your marketing campaign at children! It’s like mugging a cripple! Too damned easy and wrong on so many levels. I would LOVE all children to grow up vegan on their own agendas, but I don’t want them to be scared into it. When I was 6 I watched a Save the Children ad on TV and it made me so miserable I called immediately and donated all of my money–a whopping one dollar–to the cause. They sent me pamphlets until I turned 18. Kids are sensitive! Leave them be.

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My friend K (ohhh hey) sent me an article from the Huffington Post sometime last week about emotional manipulation, and the epidemic that has spread across our country defining women as irrational. The article addresses specifically when someone does something hurtful and, instead of owning up to their own bad deed, calls the person they upset “crazy” or “over-emotional” for feeling hurt. The article, written by Yashar Ali, is great, and brings up the term “gaslighting.”

An excerpt from Ali:

Gaslighting is a term often used by mental health professionals (I am not one) to describe manipulative behavior used to confuse people into thinking their reactions are so far off base that they’re crazy.

Example: I once had a friend call me to tell me she saw my (ex-ex-ex) boyfriend, just then, at a party getting handsy with another girl. When I called him, he answered and—with music bumpin’ in the background—told me he was at his grandparent’s. They were watching baseball. When I addressed the music in the background and the chant “keg! keg! keg!” resounding in my ears, he told me I was “crazy,” that my friend was “just jealous” (of what?) and that I was “projecting my own insecurity onto him and harming our relationship.” No sir, you’re an asshole. And that is gaslighting.

The writer of the Huff article—who is male—discusses how women are usually the brunt of gaslighting. The gaslighter does something to make them feel bad about themselves—maybe they blow them off for the 5th time in a row, forget to call again or make a rude comment—and when their insensitive behavior is addressed the gaslighter say something like “you’re over-reacting.” Society has for centuries labeled women as irrational and over-emotional, so when someone tells us that we are being irrational or over-emotional, we often choke those emotions down because it’s what we have been taught to do.

Recently I got in an argument with a friend—nice guy, usually—who was calling his girlfriend “crazy.” When I asked why she was crazy, he told me it was because she was always calling to ask where he was, accusing him of ignoring her, and acting all around “obsessive.” When I dug further, I found out my friend—like I said, nice guy USUALLY—had cheated on her several times, thus breaking trust and rendering her hopelessly insecure. She should probably dump him; instead she is letting him emotionally manipulate her. I have seen women do this to men as well; the term “my psycho ex” is one we are all pretty familiar with regardless of gender. But I can guarantee that many times someone is only acting “crazy” in direct response to whatever negative emotions have been brought up within them—hurt, anger, neglect—and have been dismissed as irrelevant.

Whether you’re male or female, the next time someone dismisses your feelings, stand up for yourself, dammit.

Stories about emotional manipulation? Wanna disagree with me? Challenge me to a duel? Do so in the comments or forever hold your peace, my friend.

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Let’s face it; winter sucks. The weather is cold, it’s still dark when you wake up and when you get out of work, and all of your friends suddenly have significant others because it’s cuffin’ season, and so you’re left to watch read copious amounts of books porn and cuddle your cat on a Friday night because it’s too cold to walk to the bar and plus, going there alone would sort of make you seem like an alcoholic, no?

Here are 5 ways to cheer yourself up if you’re feeling a chill from what your therapist calls “Seasonal Onset Depression,” which is psycho babble for “It’s Too Cold Out.”
1. Call someone who loves you. This can be your mom, old college roomie, ex-boyfriend still hung up on you, your dad who will harass you about the inappropriate content of your blog and your misuse of the word “anyway” but adores you all the same, whatever. Someone who will make you feel appreciated and loved and needed.
2. Cook. There is a reason people gain weight in the winter. It’s cold out, you are probably stuck inside and possibly bored, and you want something comforting and warm in your belly. Open your cupboards and get creative with what you already have. I like pancakes for dinner.
3. Do something creative. Write, draw, sing, play an instrument, make a collage, knit a sweater, whatever. Spending time making something, anything, offers a great sense of productivity and empowerment.
4. Dance. Put on something you know will get you moving, and jump around. The sillier, the better. Nothing to make you smile like a bit of silliness.
6. Love yourself. Unless you have a friend around to give you an O, a little self love will do a world of wonders. Say it with me: Oxcytocins. In the mood for a new toy? Check out for some inspiration. Spoil yourself with a bit of retail therapy; Christmas is only a few weeks away and patience has never been my thing, anyway.

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Narratophilia, a lust for dirty talk, is a relatively common fetish. However, that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t get the same attention as some of its weirder sensory specific cousins, like Olfactophilia. Narratophiles can vary in intensity, from those who just enjoy a bit of raunchy rapport, to those who can’t get off without it. Below is my interview with Sebastian, a cheeky guy in his mid-twenties with a dry sense of humor who likes a bit of word play in bed.

Z: Tell me a bit about your fetish–I think you said you weren’t even aware that dirty talk counts as a fetish, right? Gimme some background. Tell me what, exactly, you like about it.
S: I didn’t think it was a fetish no. I always knew that I liked it, but never really had the guts to put it into practice until rather recently. I think it’s the idea of someone describing what is happening and what they want to do you/have done to them that is the turn on. Saying all the dirty things that are frowned upon in other circumstances, but are ok in the bedroom…that’s fun.

Z: Many people who have a narratophilia fetish will become aroused at the sound of obscene words even if they aren’t being used in a sexual context. Does it work that way for you, or do you have to be gettin’ down at the moment.

S: Hearing someone say obscene words may alter my train of thought in a certain direction, but I’m not going to get a hard-on if I hear a taxi cab driver cussing out a pedestrian.  It’s usually only within an already sexually charged environment that it is a turn on.

Z: Would you prefer to do the dirty talk, or listen to it?
S: Both.

Z: Is engaging in some sort of raunchy banter required in order for you to get off?
S: No, but it definitely helps a lot.

Z: What about porn? Could you get off without a visual—audio porn?
S: Totally.

Z: How does it work with your sexual partners? Have they been pretty open to it? Ever a bad experience?
S: Usually people are pretty into it.  I find most people have a raunchy side and that they just need to feel comfortable to let it come through.  I start…they usually follow.

Z :Okay, pretend you’re all up inside me at this very moment. What would you say? Gimme what you got. Hah is that awkward? I don’t believe anything is awkward.
S: You look lovely this evening.  Your hair is very soft. 

What a tease!

Wanna talk about your fetish? Email me at Sexytofublog (at), or get at me on Twitter: @sexytofublog . Do it!

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Use Your Vagina to Make a Difference

That'll do, pig..

As you probably already know, November is mustache season. In case I am wrong and you really don’t know, Movember, as it is called, is a month where men all over stop shaving their upper lips to raise funds for prostate cancer and other cancers that affect men. That is great, but as a woman, you may be thinking—what can I do to help? I love prostates, too!

Enter November 18th, National Fuck a Mustachioed Man Day. When I Googled it, I found the following video. I was already excited about the video BEFORE Emily McCombs, MY NUMBER ONE LADY CRUSH (swoooon) came on screen and told ME (and a billion other ladies but mostly ME) to fuck a mustache. If Emily told me to do it, I am going to do it! Anyway, this hilarious video, put out by, talks about all the reasons women hate cancer and what we can do about it! Classic quotes include “you’re not a whore if it’s for charity!” It’s true. You’re not.

Watch the video:


And then go find a guy with a mustache and sit on it. Hmm what?

Oh hey, Emily, I know I could just email you this but I thought it would be more romantic (creepier) if I publicly let you know I adore you (No homo. Okay well maybe a little homo) and can I please come visit you in Brooklyn where we can I don’t know talk about sex toys  and premature ejaculation and prostates over some cupcakes. Or coffee? Maybe?

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I want to make sweet, sweet love to Mary Roach. Okay, not really, (yes really) but I would love to buy her dinner and pick her brain about all things sex and science. Her book, Bonk; the Curious Coupling of Sex and Science, has had me occupied for the past two months. TWO MONTHS you say? Sheesh you must read slow. No, actually it’s because the book is so fantastic that I have anxiety about finishing it—I never want it to end. And so I read only a handful of pages a night so that I can fully absorb it, let it sink into my pores. That way, I am constantly spitting out—much to the horror of my friends and family—random information I have gleaned from its magical chapters. Things like “Did you know it’s someone’s job to bring a sow to orgasm while artificially inseminating her because it increases her chances of becoming pregnant? That is someone’s whole job! To get off a lady pig!” or “Listen to this excerpt about a woman who kept having unexplainable orgasms while brushing her teeth! I am so jealous I can’t even think straight.”

Plus I get gloriously bizarre looks while reading it in public, chuckling  to myself on the train while repeating half sentences out loud to no one, such as “Penises eaten by ducks!” or “Decorative Penile Wrap! A penis dressed like a snowman, can you believe it?!” Roach, also the author of Stiff, Spook and Packing for Mars, is fabulous. Normally when I read books about science—even interesting science—I am bored out of my mind. But Roach’s writing is both humorous and captivating while also tricking me into learning. I love being tricked into learning. Like, I think I am just reading hilarious sex facts and then all of a sudden I have a wealth of information I never dreamed of. Boom! I’m smarter. Mary Roach, you might be the perfect woman.

Mary! You saucy minx

Now watch her Ted Talk, 10 Things You Didn’t Know About Orgasms. (She mentions the orgasmy tooth brusher?! I know you want to hear about that.)

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