Virgin Air has apparantly installed new urinals. shaped like women's mouths. They're either designed for fetishists (cool and groovy) or misogynists (not cool and not groovy at all. And probably hung like gnats.) Except that it's for neither, because, obviously, it's art (albeit really rather cool and I a piece of art that the kitsch side of me really wants for my flat.)
OK, part of me is intrigued by this as a concept, just for pure weirdness. But quite how they came up with the idea of pants that turn into a necklace is beyond me.
Apparently, it's not just women that fake it. Trout fake orgasms too.
Interesting article about being a pornographer and a mother.
A woman goes to doctor with cold-like symptoms. After four months of antobiotics and anti-TB treatment, it turns out that the problem is that she's accidentally inhaled a condom. I mean, of course. What were the doctors thinking not to have spotted it immediately?
I'm still trying to figure out how you can accidentally inhale a condom during fellatio. And not even notice.
But this time from a bloke. Very funny guy who I met when I worked at ABCtales. He went on to become a failed penis puppeteer which seems to have launched his career rather succesfully.
Interesting sex toy animations (link courtesy of Adult Backwash.)
Pornography answers men's fetishistic need for visual proof of phallic potency.
Silly me. And there I was thinking that it was just wank-material.
After several days lying in bed feeling sorry for myself because my utter disregard for drinking anything other than alcohol and strong coffee resulted in the world's most painful kidney infection (drink those eight glasses of water a day, kids. The alternative hurts like hell.), I've now gone from 'extremely mopey' to 'extremely squeally', because a) Antibiotics are a very good thing and b) I've just discovered that for the first time, something I've written is on Amazon. OK, actually, that's not strictly accurate because I also wrote this video and this video but they don't elicit the same degree of squeal because they have the producer's name rather than mine attached (and rightly so because it took him way more hours to produce than it took me to write.) Seeing my name on Amazon makes me feel all proper, like I'm a real writer and I think I'm going to have to spend the rest of the afternoon bouncing.
Or at least, I would if I didn't have to write two articles about (you've guessed it) shagging, and sub a piece I've written for Revolution about blog comment spam (with which I've recently been plagued, so please ignore any suggestions that you gamble or buy drugs that you see in the comments here. If you want to do either of those things it is, of course, entirely up to you, but please don't get the urge from seeing some spammer's comment on this blog.)
Writing the Revolution piece reminded me that I've written a few things for them over the last few months and not put links to them here, so if you're remotely interested in seeing my non-sex writing then you can find out about rubbish PRs (OK, it mentions sexy gifts but it's not *about* sex), marketers vs spammers (And yes, the word penis does crop up but again, it's not *about* sex) and shock marketing (See, I thought the shock would be that there's no mention of sex. But then. right at the end, there's a mention of bush shaping. I give up. Still, given that this story about me ran in Revolution a few years ago, it shouldn't be that big a surprise to them that I somehow shoehorn sex into everything.)
Anyway, other than the usual writing stuff, it's been a week crammed with various media things. I've been asked to join a new trend-predicting panel, telling them all about what's hot in sex at the moment (I still find the concept of there being sex fashions ridiculous, even if I write about them. 'No darling, I'm not giving you a blow-job because it's so 1993.') But trends there are, so trends I will report on.
And I did LBC and London Live on Tuesday night - the former, my usual sex slot (now weekly, some time between 8.45 and 9.05 on Dr Pam Spurr's show. Hmmm - maybe calling it my sex slot is open to interpretation...) and the latter a newspaper review.
Given that I am hideously badly informed when it comes to news/economics/any of that clever kind of stuff, it was a bit of a surprise that I was asked to comment on the news, but I figured that the other studio guest would be able to cover any of the serious things that went over my head. And then found out that the other studio guest was a male porn star mate of mine with an equal knowledge of politics etc as I have (oh God, am very aware I'm perpetuating the myth that everyone in the sex industry is stupid. They're not. He's dead bright, really.) And, as fate was clearly conspiring against us, almost every story in the papers (well, every story that we could read whilst on air rather than having to sit down and concentrate on reading) was about shagging; the bloke who was accused of paying his secretary £3 million to hush up his affair (quoted as saying something like 'Well, I can't say that I'd necessarily notice the loss of £3 million.' OK, reports said that he has £50 million or something, but to treat £3 million as the change that falls into the sofa seems outrageous. ) Some new 'shocking' art exhibition with a couple of wax effigies on hospital trolleys with the bit around their genitals cut out and leaves stuck on to cover them up, or something. And endless other sex stories. So, we talked about sex.
Plus ca change and all that...
Yet more proof that women like porn too.
(This link and the one below courtesy of Adult Backwash.)