I just learned the true meaning of "Sploosh."

I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over the sound of my repeated spontaneous orgasm.

Via IndieWire: Archer Live Action Movie: Why Producers Want Jon Hamm For the Title Role

Time does NOT heal all axe wounds

I'm a big believer in time healing all wounds when it comes to relationshits. 

But no one mentions how time can also phantom-cockblock you when you discover too late in the proceedings that one of your favorite go-to, Old Faithful masturbation fantasies -- the ones you rely on to get you there repeatedly and thoroughly when you can't quite close on your own -- doesn't...fucking...WORK anymore. (This one involved That Guy, but SHUT UP, my clitoris was always happy!) 

Personal growth is bullshit. The bulliest shit there is. (Joking. I just wish I could've somehow gotten the orgasm BEFORE the epiphany.)

BRB, changing my OkCupid profile to say my vagina is now accepting Tribute volunteers. #StuntedSingleton

"No worries. If you miss the O train, it'll come again in 5 minutes or so."

Pro tip: If your OkCupid username is "fun_not_long," my brain goes to the filthiest and most unflattering place possible for you.

Yeah, yeah, "size doesn't matter" -- tell that to the guy I dated who was SO secure in that notion that he brought a compensatory Magic Wand* to our FIRST (and only) sexual encounter.

Digression 1: I was not at all displeased with the Magic Wand -- it's named that for a reason. If I didn't already own two pricey sex toys that get the job done just fine, with a portion of my forthcoming (heh) tax refund earmarked for a third because it looks SUPER fun, I'd be all over (heh) the Magic Wand.

Digression 2: Now my brain is wandering to memories of that Magic Wand experience (my first), during which I learned about orgasm denial, and why it's a thing. A thing that man was impressively skilled at doing to me. A thing I wish he hadn't just decided to DO to me without warning the first time we slept together, because I was ready to murder him, but a thing that worked out incredibly well for me in the end. I have no idea how he could tell when I was JUST about to, or if it was just a lucky guess, but damn. Dude was like the Orgasm Whisperer.

Digression 3: This is not a good train of thought at work. Though my mental image of said train barreling full-speed through a tiny, tense tunnel is a hilarious metaphor.

 

*I linked to the Walmart site only because I am infinitely amused you can buy it there.

Who put this Jesus in my vagina?

So today I did the annual gyno exam, which is generally annoying as fuck. I really don't appreciate anyone touching my vagina if it doesn't end in orgasm.

Got put on a birth control pill so I can be a fatter, moodier, assholier asshole. ("What's the Lamictal for?" "It's for Crazy, so make sure I get Pill Lite so we don't make that worse.")

Then went downstairs in the same building to an on-site lab -- SUPER convenient, but the lab is more free about being part of a Jesus-y hospital system. So there are crosses on the walls, presumably so I can pray to Jesus to forgive me for fucking, and also pray while the lady jacks four vials of my blood to make sure my vagina doesn't have any biblical plagues.

This better be the best goddamn sex I've ever had. 

The bitch of it? He's starting to annoy me so I don't think that's even going to happen. But these are all good things to have done in general.

Still, fuck everything. I am dizzy, and getting tacos on my way home. Hmph.

My orgasm: "It's handled."

I would like this to happen to me in the very near future.

I can't figure out how to embed it because everything (read: ABC) is dumb, but here: This is a scene from last night's episode of Scandal, and I am coveting the experience HARD.

I'm just gonna send the guy this video like it's office training material. Except the office is my body, and "You bettah WORK." (Ahem. I apologize for that.)

If Scott Foley ever grabbed my hair and put his mouth on that part of my neck, we wouldn't have even made it into the apartment -- I would have just pulled up the dress and ridden him like we were in the Hallway Tour de France. And I'm not ashamed to admit that watching him do...THAT to Olivia, even just for a tragically fleeting moment, produced an actual tingle. Kerry Washington gives great sex face.

Don't judge me, we all have our deal. Mine just happens to involve being occasionally slapped on the ass with a fashionable leather glove by a trained assassin. Whatevs.

#Scandal #TGIT #TeamJake

Sorry, Folgers: Happy lady parts are a far better part of waking up.

Via HelloGiggles: This alarm clock wakes you up with an orgasm.

In the immortal words of Elle Woods, "Excuse me. I have some shopping to do."

And in the words of the friend who sent this to me, "I don't see how it would prevent me from falling back asleep."

Truth. Orgasms are how I GET to sleep half the time.

Still, we agree we should try it for research. For SCIENCE. FOR THE SISTERHOOD.
 

Hunting the rare and elusive uniporn

Holy shit, you guys. I think I've found some sort of porn holy grail.

Lots of kissing; equal and enthusiastic oral for both parties; no spitting; normal-shaped woman with the cutest tummy curve and a great ass; reasonably attractive man with a big yet non-threatening dick; enough talking/sounds to convey appreciation and a good time being had by all, but no obviously fake, exaggerated noises or commentary; perfect line walked between request and command from both participants; dude moaning a bit in her ear and grabbing her ass, hips, shoulders, neck, and hair; believable-enough orgasms (multiple!) for the lady; and his first move was to bend her over.

And I am just enough of a narcissist to be really into the fact that the woman moves and sounds like I do. 

It's like a unicorn of porn -- it's a uniporn.

Ahem... Um... So... I have to go, uhhhh... take care of a few things... It's pretty important...

(Hey, you fix bad days your way, I fix them mine.)

Interjecting for...um...an in-her-jection.

I know I'm supposed to be taking the weekend off, but I didn't think anyone would mind if I hopped on to say, "Jewelry that can make me come. The sex store gets me."  

I'd never pay that much for an orgasm

One of my other goals this year is "Get my money right," because I'm SUPER tired of being broke, so I'm trying to trim expenses where I can.

I'm on the Sephora site getting my face wash (which is pricey, but pleases me daily, and lasts forever, and gets supplemented with cheaper products, and it is my FACE, and I'm aging fairly well, so don't judge me, whippersnappers)...*deep breath* Ahem.

So I was also going to buy my blush, because it's running out, too.
Um, yeah, NARS Orgasm blush is 30 goddamn dollars. Nooope. I could swear last time I bought it, it was $22 -- still not cheap, but not $30.

Christ, I'll just give myself an actual orgasm every day before work. Or, you know...I could go get some $3 blush at Target. Whichever...

P.S. With my purchase, I got a bunch of fancy samples, so now I also have new moisturizer and lipstick, so I don't have to buy those, so really, this purchase is a budget win. [/rationalization]

Relieving emotional tension < relieving sexual tension.

Between hormones and holiday stress, I just ended up Ugly Crying over something incredibly stupid, and now my brain is convinced I am unlovable and will die alone. So that's always fun. I think these particular feelings will need to be handled via pizza.

I almost never cry, so storing it all up for the twice-yearly Ugly Cry is sort of like when I finally get laid -- I never realize how long it's been since I've done it, so I just explode from the catharsis of it all. It generally works out much better during sex, but the result is the same: I end up collapsed in an exhausted, lifeless heap. And I feel a lot better. And I demand snacks.

Y'all didn't need to hear this.

I know it's a common name, but it still amuses my brain sometimes when I talk to my coworker Rob and vividly remember a very different Rob who really (REALLY) liked hearing his name in combination with "Fuck me harder."

I really wish I'd said that because I'm super smooth in bed and intrinsically attuned to my partner's needs. But really, the first time I said it I was just bored. Thankfully most orders a woman gasps while hovering around orgasm sound fairly sexy -- I could've said "Let's get pancakes later, Rob" in that voice and it probably would've helped him along. But I'm glad he was happy, and it got me to my destination as well. 

Nothing I have to say is as important as this.

I had my own stuff to post tonight, but then I saw this and...welp, fuck it, we'll deal with me tomorrow.

Watch These Men Finger Various Fruits In An Attempt To Understand The Vagina

P.S. Just for me personally...dude's not wrong. 

  

All the Magic. All the stars.

I didn't buy it, but last night at the adult boutique, I tried the Hitachi Magic Wand -- on my achy shoulders, not on my lady bits. I've had someone else use it during sex and loved it, but I can't be trusted to operate that thing. I'm clumsy, I'd end up in the hospital. But it's delightful in both places. 

Also, last night I learned that orgasm denial is a thing, and I wish I weren't into it, but I totally am. I wish the guy who introduced me to it in 2013 had warned me, because I almost kicked him in the face, but it was lovely at the end, and was achieved via the Magic Wand. All the stars for that thing.

In which I am at one with everything and everyone...

I MAY have just called the yoga DVD lady a bitch out loud, and told her that if I'm spreading my legs that wide, I better have at least one orgasm as a result. 

So I'm glad to see I'm responding to the spiritual nature of regular practice. 

In my defense, I'm in my living room and menstruating, and she's doing yoga on a beach in a white bodysuit, so fuck her right in her third eye.

Ahem. Namaste. 

Pornotherapy

New rule: If my therapist really wants me to be "comfortable," I have to be allowed to take off my bra. And have a glass of wine.

But I guess that's how some porno movies start, so maybe that's not what I'm going for.

Then AGAIN, I am pretty much never more comfortable than I am post-orgasm. 

So. Ideal therapeutic session: slightly tipsy, bra-less, post-coital. *nod* I think I've found my business model.