You guys! I have been seriously neglectful with my posting recently. For that I am sorry. But it’s the holiday season and I have been crazy busy! So in prep for New Year’s Eve, here is a round-up of the most popular SexyTofu posts of 2012. Sometimes my dad (hi dad!) gets uppity that I write more about sex on here than food. “It’s a sex blog, not a food blog!” But you guys kind of like reading about sex—the stats prove it! All of these posts are sexysexy, and I didn’t play favorites with these, I just looked at the stats of what posts had the most hits. SO basically what I am saying is we’re all a bunch of perverts. High five!

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The Hitachi is great for your neck. (If your clit is located on your neck.)

For those of you who don’t speak sex toy, the Hitachi Magic Wand is the Cadillac of toys; Super fun to drive, even if it is a bit bulky and out-dated. This bad boy still plugs into the wall—that’s how out-dated it is, and the box it comes in looks like it’s straight from the 80s, equipped with pictures of spandex clad ladies massaging their calves with it. One, everyone knows you don’t use the Hitachi in a PG fashion and Two, who the heck actually massages their calves?

I’ve been coveting a Hitachi for years, so when I found out one was coming for me to review I got so excited I told just about everyone I know. “Nice knowing you…” my boyfriend said. “Oh, you’re in for a good time,” said my friend C, a Hitachi owner herself.  “How does that make you FEEL?” asked my therapist. (Not really. I can’t afford a therapist.) But real talk, Hitachi is a POWER TOOL company so you can imagine the force behind their toy, which is roughly the size and weight of my forearm.

When my box came in the mail I opened it with more excitement than any Christmannukah gift I’ve received in the past decade and paced around the apartment anxiously waiting for my room-mate to leave. I didn’t even need to try it out to know that no matter how loud I blast my Cat Power Pandora station, the powerful hum of this baby will not be muted. The Hitachi is as discreet as a 7 foot drag queen with a 5 o’clock shadow.

Warning: this toy is not for those who don’t appreciate extremely intense stimulation, or those who don’t want to make weird animal noises normally reserved for dying birds and fornicating primates. The Hitachi only has two speeds: Really Intense and Holy Fuuu-I Came. Usually, when I am giving myself some attention, I like to take my sweet time. I prefer toys that allow me to edge a bit—take myself nearly there and then back off so that my orgasm is crippling. While the Hitachi WILL make you come out of your ears, there is no way to ease yourself into it. My friend C, the Hitachi fan mentioned above, described it perfectly: “The Hitachi is great for when you’re tired and horny and just want to get off and go to sleep.” You will not last for more than 5 minutes unless you have a clit of steel.

I love my Hitachi on a level that is almost comparable to the way I feel about my cat. Not really, but enough to make me want to drive 20 minutes home on my lunch break, spend 2 ½ minutes panting like a prom queen in the back of a Buick, and drive 20 minutes back to the office. Five days a week.

So, what do you think of the Hitachi? Roseanne Barr loves her Hitachi, too. At an MTV VMA show she crowed, “Hitachi make such a good vibrator, I think I’ll buy one of their TVs!” I feel you, Roseanne.

Want a Hitachi? Yeahhh you do. Get it.

Side note: After an intense bout of Bootcamp where I was forced to do 100 plus Burpees (Tough Mudder training!) I actually used the Hitachi on my arms. Just like this picture.

I felt like it was 1984.

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In college I lived with a bunch of girls. I mean, I went through a ton of room mates, often living with up to six other (yes six!) crazy females at a time. Once there were six of us plus another unofficial roommate who lived on our couch and kept all of her clothes shoved in one of the drawers of our entertainment unit. I was also always changing roommates, because they were always doing terrible things. One had a boyfriend who used to urinate in my belongings (IE my Nestles chocolate milk container—pre-vegan days—and my re-usable water bottles). Another used to steal all of my things (clothes, perfume, sex toys..). Another slept with a guy I’d been dating who had just recently masticated my heart into a bloody sludgy puddle that sort of resembled the nice glass of beet juice I just had with my lunch.

Anyways, throughout my college career I probably lived with about 20 different girls. And for some reason, they all used to come to me to dish up on their sex lives. ALL of them. Even then ones who didn’t much like me. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I wrote our college sex column or the Good Bush, Bad Bush T-shirt I strutted around in—pantsless of course.

To get to my point, I had this one (really really) stupid roomie who was contraceptionally challenged. I mean, girl couldn’t have safe sex to save her life. We were constantly having incredibly frustrating conversations about her stupidity. Here is an example of one of such conversations. I am going to call her Slutface Sally. (That’s mean! She was really cute. The stupid ones usually are..)

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