tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31147902887038787982024-03-13T08:20:46.333-07:00Tell KizzKizz at 117 Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07641731042008349260noreply@blogger.comBlogger78125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-48289324285726640272015-06-15T12:32:00.003-07:002015-06-15T12:32:37.047-07:00It's a Sweaty Business<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrCm0x6Cjoe4m22DE931zmyQilgu-8Cyz4mmvj-rhBc5fe3YWM4JecMXcRbYZ7hrC2oiRlktgoSFGKAMgazrcuLswxujHvyR79fcmDKlwFY5Pv5VAR98NvTHGerdjxFKogfTa4SOv_Ad0/s1600/14793861433_28e78e661d_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrCm0x6Cjoe4m22DE931zmyQilgu-8Cyz4mmvj-rhBc5fe3YWM4JecMXcRbYZ7hrC2oiRlktgoSFGKAMgazrcuLswxujHvyR79fcmDKlwFY5Pv5VAR98NvTHGerdjxFKogfTa4SOv_Ad0/s320/14793861433_28e78e661d_o.jpg" width="209" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>You basically walk around like this trying to hide your butt.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
You know how everyone says, "My mother never told me!" Well, that's why we have the internet. Today we talk about menstrual sweat.<br />
<br />
You're thrilled, aren't you?<br />
<br />
Seriously, though, I thought I was the only one and then a friend mentioned it in passing and I was so fucking relieved I thought I'd mention it here to see if she and I are the only two. I bet we aren't.<br />
<br />
Does your whole crotchal area sweat significantly more when you have your period? Do you spend at least a couple of days constantly worrying about the question, "Sweat or blood?" It's not just the method of absorption being used, at least from my small statistical sample. She uses tampons and I use pads so it's not that the item is causing the sweat. Could be hormonal, could be psychological, could be real. I just don't know.<br />
<br />
Do you?<br />
<br />
Frankly, I'm sick of it.Kizz at 117 Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07641731042008349260noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-62605684516023946312015-05-28T13:13:00.001-07:002015-05-28T13:13:35.022-07:00Pendulum<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsH4KbkqPsFqktIiqSI4zVMOfSR7o2idNuov7IwgQM2sIk2AOwWBAA0ctLXj6Xcc4muXmzUcDVxciIJLin3CZcC-3hqti6xil6mMXHKEM6sCCSw4I3sQDbSYuvrVWazOfi-EKOPhv7UtI/s1600/17054339221_e896f6a623_o%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsH4KbkqPsFqktIiqSI4zVMOfSR7o2idNuov7IwgQM2sIk2AOwWBAA0ctLXj6Xcc4muXmzUcDVxciIJLin3CZcC-3hqti6xil6mMXHKEM6sCCSw4I3sQDbSYuvrVWazOfi-EKOPhv7UtI/s320/17054339221_e896f6a623_o%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I have a friend who sometimes talks about how her married sex life goes in cycles. There are times she and her husband have wild monkey sex regularly and others when one (or both!) of them can't stand the sight of the other one clothed much less naked with intent. I have said all the things you say when you talk about this kind of thing with friends. "Totally normal!" "It'll come back around, right?" "You could _____." And you know sometimes she does ______ and sometimes she doesn't and their marriage isn't in danger of crumbling and she's a healthy red-blooded woman.<br />
<br />
Me too.<br />
<br />
But I'm single, right? And I'm really not "putting it out there" if you will. I'm concentrating on learning a new career, furthering an old career, and keeping the job that's currently supporting both. I've got a dog to walk. I have a lot of friends going through tough times right now and I'm doing my best to be supportive in whatever ways seem possible. I'm not even thinking about sex.<br />
<br />
Wait.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijwZAWeYK68tU2tl2SPyIColr4dBTcXtVGXAxeESH9Qzr4KRYg4dKsCpAmcXq7a4PnklcUm-sA88JLrzkLdewsBK4tj7mAV8cxp7aC0NgFC82UBIQ76-ZyEsyhz_dO-cUBo0vK9rA40fw/s1600/16847747187_c699337f78_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijwZAWeYK68tU2tl2SPyIColr4dBTcXtVGXAxeESH9Qzr4KRYg4dKsCpAmcXq7a4PnklcUm-sA88JLrzkLdewsBK4tj7mAV8cxp7aC0NgFC82UBIQ76-ZyEsyhz_dO-cUBo0vK9rA40fw/s320/16847747187_c699337f78_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Actually, let's backtrack. What I'm getting at more accurately is that, while I miss having sex with other people, it's not ruining my life not to have it. I can polish my own silver, if you'll pardon the expression, and I go through cycles with myself. I know that it's tied to menstruation and that a good catch and release, if you will, populates my thoughts at certain times of the month and fades into the background at others. Sometimes I idly wonder if I should be honoring those thoughts with more action but mostly I don't worry about it.<br />
<br />
For the past couple of months I don't think I've jacked off at all. It was, actually, starting to bother me. Not, I guess, enough to do anything about it but enough to obsess on it just a tiny bit. Finally last weekend time and energy and opportunity and desire all converged so that I got to do myself a solid, as it were.<br />
<br />
And now?<br />
<br />
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Well, christ, now it's all I can think about. I sat outside for lunch the other day and basically played Marry/Fuck/Kill with the passersby. I had 30 things to do last night in my 2 hours of free time and I stopped in the middle of them to rub one out. I spent conservatively 30 minutes this afternoon combing through social media photos of a couple of attractive men for the sole purpose of examining their hands in order to fuel some <i>very</i> specific fantasies. And those fantasies are happening all the time. It's really odd to be studying how to train a dog to retrieve on one channel in your mind while using another channel to craft the perfect neck kissing scene.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKpqUkMJRm7LthmuBaRkxWY_C9n_1x5BhOiKS9geh3HdmeZ8Tk1pYB2TNkJswYMWcsoGjjep3UN-XOB8lm_8aMACW2h8sV4dNQSeVRIy6nKB4oGm0hDfoewejTJhfKMA2vfZlOF60b6LE/s1600/16580640314_22719b425b_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKpqUkMJRm7LthmuBaRkxWY_C9n_1x5BhOiKS9geh3HdmeZ8Tk1pYB2TNkJswYMWcsoGjjep3UN-XOB8lm_8aMACW2h8sV4dNQSeVRIy6nKB4oGm0hDfoewejTJhfKMA2vfZlOF60b6LE/s320/16580640314_22719b425b_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
By the way, if I wasn't busier than a one armed paper hanger right now I'd be writing that scene down for you and posting it here. Hope to get to it soon!<br />
<br />
At dinner this weekend another friend said to me, "I don't know why but you've taken yourself off the market!" I didn't understand why he was bringing my love life up and I didn't think it was true but I didn't know what to say either. I certainly didn't do it intentionally. The intent is, perhaps, the key. "Use it or lose it!" they say. All I did was use it once and I unleashed the beast! When I'm not paying attention to how much I love sex - alone or in company - then I'm going to pay less attention to it. So, I guess, like my friend and her husband, I need to pay attention, to make it a priority, so I get to keep making it a priority in future. I'm here to tell you, it's totally worth it!<br />
<br />
Anybody with me?<br />
<br />
<br />Kizz at 117 Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07641731042008349260noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-16363147719992188112013-11-26T09:11:00.001-08:002013-11-26T09:11:41.361-08:00Best Practices<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/31403417@N00/10896048683/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Mile 9 by kizzzbeth, on Flickr"><img alt="Mile 9" height="214" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7409/10896048683_cf94aab493_z.jpg" width="320" /></a>I don't know how other people do it but I have a masturbation routine. OK, not a routine exactly but sort of Best Practices, if you will. I've been doing this for a while now, I know what works. These Best Practices generally include some form of visual aid or reading material. I do love me some <a href="http://www.tellkizz.com/search/label/fiction">erotica</a>. So much of it.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I felt the calling the other night but I had been cleaning all day. I have a houseguest arriving today and a party at my place on Friday and I worked all weekend to reduce the clutter to party-appropriate levels so I wouldn't have to worry about it when my friend got here. Pertinent to the whole masturbation thing is that means that all my books and DVDs had been put away. Sure, I could have gotten something out, used it like a two dollar whore, and put it away again but I had just spent all weekend putting things away. Putting things away is the enemy!<br />
<br />
At this point the Justification Lobe of my brain started to work. It didn't know if it was arguing pro- or con-getting out some reading material, it didn't even know if it was arguing pro- or con-masturbation but the gears were grinding. It finally came up with, "Do you even know if you can satisfy yourself without these crutches? It's been so long I bet you can't! If you can't achieve this basic goal without assistance then what kind of sex blogger could you possibly be?"<br />
<br />
Now, those arguments are, by and large, bullshit but they turned out to be motivational. It started to seem scientific. Could I? Only one way to find out!<br />
<br />
I can. It's still awesome.<br />
<br />
How about you, do you have Best Practices? Do you ever try to branch out or pare them down to see what you're capable of?Kizz at 117 Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07641731042008349260noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-52900953556203580562013-09-12T13:24:00.001-07:002013-09-12T13:24:54.357-07:00Let Me Ask You*<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/31403417@N00/7016131771/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Day 317: Crystal by kizzzbeth, on Flickr"><img alt="Day 317: Crystal" height="267" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7116/7016131771_bb8d22b026_z.jpg" width="400" /></a>I was sitting at a party the other night between one friend and another. I was talking to Right Hand Friend and I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Left Hand Friend's conversation had ended and he was on his own. I reached over and took his hand. Our hands sort of naturally locked fingers and fell on the couch between us. I'm a little embarrassed to tell you that <i>he laughed at me</i>. I turned and he said, "What? Are we going steady now?" It did not do an ego good, I tell you!<br />
<br />
I responded with the only tool I had available, the truth. "No! It was just that I didn't want you to think I was ignoring you but I'm having a really good conversation about sex toys over here and I'm not ready to end it yet." That'll teach him. He did have the grace to laugh at that, too, and not to interrupt.<br />
<br />
So let me ask you, where were you the last time you had an in-person discussion of sex, sex toys, erotica, or the like? And what were you talking about?<br />
<br />
In my conversation we were continuing a discussion we'd started days earlier about strengthening pelvic floor muscles as a way to relieve pain. In particular I was admitting that, for fun not pain, I'd bought some <a href="http://www.amazon.com/LELO-Luna-Beads-Bestselling-Exercising/dp/B0029ZALB2">Luna Beads</a> but have failed to use them as yet. I'll let you know as soon as I do!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Is this a good title for a feature? Should it be a feature? Should I shut up about features until I get into a posting groove?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**That is not a luna bead in that picture!</span>Kizz at 117 Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07641731042008349260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-44104626555449143032013-08-09T18:12:00.001-07:002013-08-09T18:12:50.157-07:00And I Don't Mean British Columbia!<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/31403417@N00/9453354309/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" title="Untitled by kizzzbeth, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="400" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3807/9453354309_bfd5ccc898_z.jpg" width="267" /></a>I know that I write <a href="http://www.tellkizz.com/search/label/fiction">fiction</a> on this blog sometimes but I'm not making this up. Promise. Even though it's going to sound like a 7th grader going to <a href="http://www.plannedparenthood.org/">Planned Parenthood</a>.<br />
<br />
A friend approached me with a question about birth control. She didn't need it for herself, she was asking for a friend. (Ok, maybe it's going to sound like a <i>6th</i> grader.) The friend (I swear, it's true!) had asked her how to find out more about <a href="http://www.plannedparenthood.org/health-topics/birth-control/iud-4245.htm">IUDs</a>. She, not having been in the market for any kind of birth control for a while, wasn't sure where to look. Additionally she had some pretty strong negative feelings about IUDs but understood that her facts might be outdated. What could I tell her and what resources could I suggest for her friend?<br />
<br />
I'm human, my first reaction was to be pretty damn pleased that someone came to me as an expert on the subject. Hard on the heels of that was some doubt about whether she was out of her fucking tree for giving me that trust. I decided to earn it and I will tell anyone who asks that I was able to do so because I write this blog. So, thanks to each and every person who has read and enjoyed this forum for discussion. You make me a better person in a measurable way.<br />
<br />
First I went to <a href="http://www.scarleteen.com/">Scarleteen</a> because I trust them to have clear and comprehensive birth control information. Since both of the women in question (all three if you count me) are not even close to teenagers it seemed a little odd but my first criteria was trustworthy information. While I did eventually find the information I had a bit of an old lady moment because the section titles and the layout are so clearly geared toward younger people that I had a hard time identifying the right path. I eventually got to <a href="http://www.scarleteen.com/article/sexuality/birth_control_bingo">a page</a> which included their "<i>Birth Control Bingo</i>," which is basically a <a href="http://www.cyoa.com/">Choose Your Own Adventure</a> but with contraception.<br />
<br />
Next I was inspired to search "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Bodies-Ourselves-Boston-Womens-Collective/dp/1439190666">Our Bodies, Ourselves</a>." It's a classic resource and more of the time of the generations I'm dealing with in this case. Turns out there's <a href="http://www.ourbodiesourselves.org/">a website</a>! It's basically excerpts from the book and links. Again, though, I have faith that the people who built this book wouldn't post unvetted or otherwise shitty links, so I passed on this <a href="http://www.ourbodiesourselves.org/book/chapter.asp?id=18">informative page</a>. <br />
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Finally I went to <a href="http://www.goodvibes.com/main.jhtml">Good Vibrations</a> just because they're sex positive and I know the site and, not to be all broken MP3 Player about it, but I <i>trust</i> them. Now, logically, they're about sexual pleasure items and safety within that pleasure and that logic was borne out. I didn't find a specific page about birth control or contraception or even safe sex. I did, though, wind up at a 404 Page Not Found and that included the revelation that Good Vibrations has <a href="http://www.goodvibes.com/web/20130704165004/http://www.goodvibes.com/content.jhtml?id=good-vibrations-sex-doctors">live chat</a>! I don't know how to get to it except via the 404 Page so that's what I'm linking to. I am willing to bet they have experience talking about birth control and, even if they don't speak to it directly, have a go to list of good places to send chatters for help.<br />
<br />
I think I'm allowed a small dose of pride* at my ingenuity. I'm definitely excited about what I've found. However, three links is no avalanche of fabulous information. That's what inspired me to write here. Last time I got birth control, though I was in my thirties, I made a decision based on information I learned in high school and asked a doctor I'd only been to a couple of times if there was a compelling reason to do something different than what I had decided. She didn't think so. I went <a href="http://www.plannedparenthood.org/health-topics/birth-control/diaphragm-4244.htm">diaphragm</a>. It was fine but I don't know if I'll choose it again. I'll certainly use <a href="http://www.plannedparenthood.org/health-topics/birth-control/condom-10187.htm">condoms</a> until I'm in a position to fully trust someone and since I'm not even at the condom point right now there's time.<br />
<br />
Seems like a good time to gather knowledge, no? Which is why I'm asking you. How did you choose your most recent form of contraception? Did you use any resources to make your decision? Do you know of any resources I could use? Man, I miss talking to you folks!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*I lose expert points for not thinking about Planned Parenthood until I started linking things in this post. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-65763831664823014902013-03-21T13:34:00.000-07:002013-03-21T13:34:00.571-07:00Don't Ruin the Party!<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/31403417@N00/8175616628/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" title="A Favorite by kizzzbeth, on Flickr"><img alt="A Favorite" height="400" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8197/8175616628_8f6f171ee4_b.jpg" width="300" /></a>I have a longer story to tell you about yeast and homeopathic remedies and the downside to living another year but not quite enough time to tell it today. I have this other, shorter related thought I want to share, though, so today seemed a good time.<br />
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I don't enjoy the way the inside of my vagina feels.<br />
<br />
It feels super controversial to say that, like I'm going to get dinged for self-hatred or something. Please don't get me wrong, I love my vagina. I like what it does (<i>usually</i>, wait for the yeast story) and how it makes some people react and how it makes me feel overall. It's just....I find myself sort of terrified when I put my fingers in there. It all feels too squishy, in an unpleasant, tapioca sort of way and then there are my fingernails. I can't get rid of the image of wearing stilettos in a bouncy castle.<br />
<br />
You know?<br />
<br />
To clarify, I kind of love the way the rest of the mechanism feels. Labia, clit, opening are all a treat to be devoured. It's just the chicken breast marinating in pudding sort of thing that's happening inside. I haven't been privileged to compare the way it feels to touch my vagina with the way it feels to touch someone else's either. I don't know if that danger quality would transfer or not. I assume it does but I know better than to assume anything...especially where sex is concerned.<br />
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Please, don't judge me harshly but do tell me how you feel. How's your tactile relationship with your happy parts? Let me know if I'm missing something, 'cause I'm always happy to learn something new. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-73705435136608943152013-02-14T05:01:00.002-08:002013-02-14T05:01:46.565-08:00Love Is DangerousI can't watch <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Love_Lucy">I Love Lucy</a> because Ricky always tells her not to do something and then SHE DOES IT and there are predictable consequences. I can only watch <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frasier">Frasier</a> occasionally because they do exactly the same thing then they go a step further. The extra step is always great but I have to get through the first act and sometimes it's impossible.<br />
<br />
One Valentine's Day years ago they split the show up into character-focused segments. For some unknown reason I watched. The first chunk was Niles and it's nearly silent and <a href="http://www.davidhydepierce.org/">David Hyde Pierce</a> is a genius.<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=86UyxGZ_pgQ">Here it is</a>. Whatever else you're doing with your day I think you should take 5 minutes and 9 seconds to watch it. Totally worth it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-81016399147077010712013-01-31T10:58:00.000-08:002013-01-31T10:58:10.968-08:00Reject Pile<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/31403417@N00/5810454798/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" title="Day 38: I Multi-task by kizzzbeth, on Flickr"><img alt="Day 38: I Multi-task" height="214" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2099/5810454798_02db6c3b29_b.jpg" width="320" /></a>As you may remember, I <a href="http://www.tellkizz.com/2012/10/submission-joyfully-achieved.html">submitted some stories</a> to Blogher's upcoming ebook of erotic fiction. Their nice online submission system sent me emails to confirm and every so often I'd just double check to see that my status on each piece was still listed as "In Progress." It was. All this week I've been telling myself not to check, to try and forget the whole project so I can be surprised when I hear. <br />
<br />
This morning I got surprised. I got an email from Blogher and it was short so I knew it was bad news. Turns out, though, it was different bad news than I expected. Apparently they are no longer going forward with the project because...they didn't get enough submissions. I think that sucks on a number of levels. The editors went on to explain that they are still working on a way for a book to become a reality and that, to that end, they were reconsidering their attribution policy. As I understand it they were not going to agree to publish any story anonymously and they think that policy contributed to the lack of submissions.<br />
<br />
Then I received the email twice more. (Once for each story.)<br />
<br />
I've been missing writing fiction for this site. It's a problematic goal to put on my plate because of my resolution this year to "Write. At least 15 minutes a day. Not blog posts." but I think there's time and space. If there isn't I think it's worth it to make some. So, watch this page! It looks like I'm going to be back.<br />
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I think I'll also be inspired to submit some posts to Blogher's new Sex and Love section editor, <a href="https://twitter.com/FeministaJones">Feminista Jones</a>, because clearly we need to keep getting our words about sex out into the world.<br />
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Thanks, as ever, for reading this site and bearing with the herky jerky way I seem to be finding a place for it in my brain. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-9070578352025759542012-10-18T12:33:00.000-07:002012-10-18T12:33:13.223-07:00Submission Joyfully Achieved!<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/31403417@N00/6267013131/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Day 163: Big Book by kizzzbeth, on Flickr"><img alt="Day 163: Big Book" height="214" src="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6113/6267013131_26c5fc5df1_b.jpg" width="320" /></a>Thanks to everyone who read through the archives over the past week while I pondered what to submit to <a href="http://www.blogher.com/racy-sexy-saucy-call-submissions-bloghers-e-book-sex">Blogher's upcoming racy ebook</a>. Did you submit anything yourself?<br />
<br />
There were <a href="http://www.tellkizz.com/2012/10/opine-your-opinionated-opinions-please.html">great suggestions</a>, even one that I'd already considered myself. Since there was no limit on the number of items one could submit today I went through the very simple process and turned in three posts; <a href="http://www.tellkizz.com/2010/10/masked-ff-r-honestly-youd-think-that-at.html">Masked</a>, <a href="http://www.tellkizz.com/2011/07/hello-stranger.html">Hello Stranger</a>, and <a href="http://www.tellkizz.com/2010/12/snow-day.html">Snow Day</a>. The deadline is this Sunday and I'm sure it will take a while to go through all the pieces that came in so I don't know when I'll hear back. Fingers crossed, though, I'd really like to be part of this project.<br />
<br />
Now here's the fun part, somebody is getting a movie. As it turns out <i>two</i> somebodies are. You see, three people chimed in by the deadline and one of those said she already had a movie so she could be taken out of the running. I'm not going to eeny meenie miney mo the other two so I'm going to send them each the <a href="http://www.comstockfilms.com/">Comstock Film</a> of their choice.<br />
<br />
So, <b>Laura and Bethany</b>, you're both winners! Please email me at isabeau6 at hotmail dot com with your choice of <a href="http://www.comstockfilms.com/">Comstock Film</a>. Include your address so I can order online and have it sent directly to you. Thank you thank you for your help!<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-76997797517965721612012-10-11T13:28:00.001-07:002012-10-11T13:28:14.513-07:00Opine Your Opinionated Opinions Please<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/31403417@N00/8025114363/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" title="Untitled by kizzzbeth, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="214" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8462/8025114363_921024092b_b.jpg" width="320" /></a>Blogher has been working in concert with Open Road to publish a couple of e-books. They recently put out a call for submissions for <a href="http://www.blogher.com/racy-sexy-saucy-call-submissions-bloghers-e-book-sex">the next publication</a> which is about sex.<br />
<br />
Hmmmm, I may have written a thing or two on the subject.<br />
<br />
I would really like to submit something but I always have a hell of a time choosing which thing to send. Here, of course, is where I hope you can help me. I was thinking of submitting some <a href="http://www.tellkizz.com/search/label/fiction">fiction</a> but I'm open to other ideas, too.<br />
<br />
In related news, my friend, <a href="http://www.sailingmontauk.com/concept/captain-david-ryan/">Captain David Ryan</a>, formerly known as Tony Comstock, tweeted recently that they are low on stock of a couple of <a href="http://www.comstockfilms.com/">Comstock Films</a> titles and they aren't sure if they'll be reprinting them since their <a href="http://www.sailingmontauk.com/sailing-trips/">family's work</a> has taken on a different focus.<br />
<br />
Let us combine these two pieces of information. I will choose someone at random from the readers who, in the comments section of this post, suggest something for me to submit to Blogher's sex book and send that person the Comstock Film of their choice. (If you comment anonymously then simply sign in the body of the comment with an alias and if your alias is announced here as the winner you'll be responsible for emailing me to choose your film and pony up a place for it to be sent in a perfectly confidential way.) <br />
<br />
The Blogher deadline is October 21 and I'll have to have a little time to prep whatever I send so let's say, please <b>have your comments in by Wednesday October 17 at 5pm</b> (that's next Wednesday). Sound good? <br />
<br />
Thanks for your help. You are always endlessly helpful to me and I want you to know that I appreciate it.<br />
<br />
You know what else I appreciate? The fact that you have great sexual thoughts and experiences and feelings that deserve to be shared. Anyone can submit writing or artwork to this book so if you've got something you want to send you should do it. You really should. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-83372303430145282722012-08-28T08:48:00.000-07:002012-08-28T08:48:30.173-07:00Tell Me About It<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/31403417@N00/7517727890/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Lucky Find by kizzzbeth, on Flickr"><img alt="Lucky Find" height="400" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8159/7517727890_042f799cb4_b.jpg" width="400" /></a>Ages ago I went into a <a href="http://www.the-chocolatier.com/">fancy chocolate store</a> with a beau and he told me he'd like to buy me whatever I wanted. I browsed a bit and chose something I loved and brought it to the register. He looked down at the one modestly-sized box of candy on the counter and said, "No. I didn't say <i>one</i> thing you wanted I said <i>whatever</i> you wanted."<br />
<br />
Just remembering it makes me start breathing heavy. When he did the same thing later in a bookstore I thought I might follow him to the ends of the earth. (Spoiler Alert: I did not and it was a good thing.) Now, I knew neither of us was made of money. I wasn't going to grab an armful of artisinal truffle oil-infused chocolate or the complete works of Shakespeare unabridged. The offer, the releasing of limits in the gesture, though, was the largest part of the gift. It said, "You don't have to hold yourself back, make limiting choices, curb your appetites. I want you to have it all." He was all about expanding my limits. His own, not so much.<br />
<br />
This morning the first thing I saw when I checked my email was an alert from my bank. I had made a foolish mistake resulting in a large overdraft. It's something that I can fix but because of the way banking works it will take a few days and numerous phone calls to reverse and hopefully eliminate any fees associated with the error. I was hyper emotional, as I usually am with money matters, and wanted to curl up in a ball and never <i>ever</i> peek out again. Since I have a dog that wasn't an option. I got up and walked to the park in the rain with him. While I walked I had a thought about fantasies.<br />
<br />
If I'm honest, and why wouldn't I be here, there's usually a huge protective element to my fantasies. Sometimes that manifests sexually, I'm a sucker for the spooning and being taken from behind, but just as often it's also a long term plot element. (I'll keep the same characters and locations and just keep writing the story of the fantasy in my head over time, sometimes months. Just me?) The men I fantasize about, both real and imaginary, always handle our finances. I stop myself just barely short of abdicating all responsibility for income and it's apportioning, but the guy is usually a celebrity, has an inheritance, studied finance, or in one thrilling post-war rambling, got a huge settlement for being injured in the line of duty so we have plenty of money for living our dreams.<br />
<br />
Inevitably, often on one of these walks with the dog, I will craft a scene where I want to do something that I want to do in real life - quit my job, write a novel, do a solo cabaret show with a big band, audition full time - and this dude in my head will say, "Do it."<br />
<br />
I'll dither about the money and he'll say, "We can handle it. Do it."<br />
<br />
Even in my fantasies, I'll ask again, "Are you sure?"<br />
<br />
"Yes." Yes. That yes is possibly the hottest thing I ever imagine and I'm working on making a career out of imagining shit. <br />
<br />
Now, we could pull out the psychology books and talk about how that's also related to how I want to feel valued and protected emotionally. We could take a side trip along the road where it's also about unleashing my sexual desires and having them be fully accepted, appreciated, and supported. I won't argue. Those things are all true, too, and come out in different parts of the fantasizing process. None of my fantasy men ever balk at ass play or toys or hot, noisy car sex, either.<br />
<br />
The money part of the fantasy is real, too, though, and sexy and important to me. I might even go so far as to say integral.<br />
<br />
Do you have any non-sexual aspects to your fantasies? Do you want to share them here? Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-1161010327586343022012-08-01T13:19:00.000-07:002012-08-01T13:19:27.503-07:00Free<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/31403417@N00/7531898628/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" title="Untitled by kizzzbeth, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="267" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7131/7531898628_2108b8f658_b.jpg" width="400" /></a>I know that mostly we talk about sex but we also talk about health. Today is a huge day for women's health so let's talk about it a little.<br />
<br />
As of today women's preventive health services are free. Not even a co-pay, ladies. That's contraception, breastfeeding, and domestic violence counseling among other things. This <a href="http://feministing.com/2012/07/30/what-obamacare-will-bring-you-the-day-after-tomorrow/">info graphic</a> I saw at Feministing outlines the good news and points out how important it is. Please take advantage of this wonderful thing. I've been putting off getting my annual screenings so long I can't really call them annual and it's time to fix that. Please join me! If you need convincing let's spend a minute for this <a href="http://www.shakesville.com/2012/07/benefits-of-contraceptive-use-to-women.html">short video</a> at Shakesville outlining the benefits of contraceptive use by women. We're all better off if we're well informed, right? <br />
<br />
Now, some people, of course, <a href="http://feministing.com/2012/08/01/birth-control-coverage-like-911-and-pearl-harbor/">think this is a terrible idea</a> (women's health care in general and contraception in particular). To be clear, I agree that the Affordable Care Act isn't perfect. On the
other hand no one plan could possibly be perfect for everyone in such an
enormous country. I do believe that making sure that our citizens are healthy is a top priority and that prevention is cheaper than cure. This, to me, is one step in the right direction.<br />
<br />
The past weeks have brought stories of <a href="http://feministing.com/2012/08/01/the-wednesday-weigh-in-reddit-rape-thread-edition/">rape apologia</a>, declarations that <a href="http://inkdot.tumblr.com/post/28306881706">women aren't funny</a>, denigration of women who <a href="http://feministing.com/2012/08/01/olympic-weightlifter-zoe-smith-speaks-for-us-all-when-she-tells-sexist-trolls-we-dont-care-if-you-dont-find-us-attractive/">don't look like Maxim magazine models</a>, <a href="http://whatever.scalzi.com/2012/07/31/readercon-harassment-etc/">sexual harassment ignorance</a>, and a host of other bad news. It's heartening that this one little step forward is happening <i>right now</i>. It doesn't fix everything but it makes me feel a tiny bit better.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-57399522237420725242012-07-27T16:20:00.001-07:002012-07-27T16:20:41.396-07:00Comfort Zone<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/31403417@N00/7476052564/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" title="Express by kizzzbeth, on Flickr"><img alt="Express" height="400" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8159/7476052564_e9363a6f98_b.jpg" width="267" /></a>I treated myself to the bus from the train today instead of walking the 20 minutes. I sat down a few seats away from a couple of teenage boys who were chatting, trying to seem tougher than they really felt. They were talking about girls but in a pretty low key way. My ears perked up when I heard "rape."<br />
<br />
Nope, it didn't go the way I thought I was going.<br />
<br />
"If you get enlarged then it can't be rape. So you can't really get raped."<br />
<br />
Yes, it went wrong in an entirely <i>different</i> way. I had an impulse to speak up immediately but swallowed it while I thought about the sort of things that would need to be said. It turns out I didn't have the chutzpah to discuss the subtleties of direct stimulation, blood flow, and their relationship, or lack thereof, to desire with two teenagers I'd never met before. There are arguments to be made that I was right not to do so and arguments that I was wrong.<br />
<br />
I grew up in the 1970s. It was a time of encouraging children to use the technical terms for body parts and to be comfortable with sex and reproduction. From my perspective the '70s were all about knowledge being power. My mother was fully on board with this movement. She was always happy to provide a <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=where+did+I+come+from&hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=63Z&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&prmd=imvnsb&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=Th0TUKmiJ4rv0gH5yoCgCQ&ved=0CFMQsAQ&biw=1312&bih=699">book</a>, explain a situation, and encourage feedback. She still is! Sometimes I question her methods but then look at me, I'm comfortable talking about sex and other bodily functions with people, just not with my mother.<br />
<br />
As I got off the bus I wondered where those kids were getting their basic info and who they might be able to talk to. I wish I'd at least had some sort of calling card with the contact details for <a href="http://www.scarleteen.com/">Scarleteen</a>* on it so I could have told them that their take on rape of men wasn't strictly accurate but it was understandable and there was a place to get answers.<br />
<br />
Where did you get your questions answered as a kid? Where do you get them answered as an adult? Do you wish things were different?<br />
<br />
*Scarleteen is in great need of <a href="http://www.scarleteen.com/help_lift_sex_ed_to_a_higher_plane_support_scarleteen">donations</a> in order to keep providing quality sexual health assistance to young people. If you have a <a href="http://www.scarleteen.com/help_lift_sex_ed_to_a_higher_plane_support_scarleteen">few dollars</a> to send their way, please do.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-17270343214553816532012-07-15T18:56:00.001-07:002012-07-15T18:57:28.524-07:0050 Ways To Read Your Lover<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/31403417@N00/7579422426/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" title="Untitled by kizzzbeth, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="400" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8023/7579422426_b9977a4a39_b.jpg" width="400" /></a>I try to always be upfront with you so lets be clear, I haven't read <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fifty_Shades_of_Grey">50 Shades of Grey</a></i>. My To Read pile is already out of control. People whose opinions I value have read the book or parts of it and said that it's not terribly well written. People whose blogs and tweets I follow who are core members of the domination and submission communities have had some problems with the way they've been portrayed. Now, I'm not judging anyone who reads stuff that's well written. I read and watch a lot of crap. More even than I ought I'm sure, however, I decided that it was ok not to read this particular stuff if it was going to mirror my experience wading through <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twilight_%28series%29">Twilight</a></i>. Despite taking it off my list I had great plans to write a whole <i>Alternatives to 50 Shades of Grey</i> post but, as you can see, it hasn't materialized.<br />
<br />
This evening I swung by a friend's house briefly. She's moving and has been sweating to the tune of her own packing all day. Before I left I pawed through the books in her giveaway pile. I moved one book back and forth about three times before I stopped myself. It was <a href="http://www.ourbodiesourselves.org/"><i>Our Bodies, Ourselves</i></a> and I don't own a copy. I thought, "I write about bodies and sex. I need a copy of this book."<br />
<br />
Well, you can't say that if you don't actually <i>write</i> about bodies and sex. That was enough to inspire me to get my ass (and my fingers and my brain) back here. As I strolled home with my bodily instruction manual clutched to my modest chest I mulled over how I should begin my Alternatives post. About halfway there I realized that I've written more than one post on the subject already. Why am I trying to reinvent the wheel? Let me do a round up of those posts below so we can share them with anyone who might be interested. One of my favorite parts of this site and the G-Spot column before it is the conversations. The one fantastic thing about <i>50 Shades</i> is that it's upping the odds of people talking about sex and desire and pleasure. I've got my fingers crossed that we'll all have more opportunities to share (and read) these gems.<br />
<br />
My tardy review of the anthology <i><a href="http://www.tellkizz.com/2010/11/revisiting-once-bitten-not-shy.html">Bitten</a></i>. Not just BDSM but plenty of that if you need it. <br />
<br />
I don't think any of our readers would call <i>Speak</i> pornography but <a href="http://www.tellkizz.com/2010/09/speak-loudly.html">here's my post</a> about the people who do. <br />
<br />
Another <a href="http://www.tellkizz.com/2010/09/star-light-star-bright.html">round up</a>, this one of all the ways you can enjoy the work of Susie Bright. <br />
<br />
On the non-fiction shelf we've got <i><a href="http://www.tellkizz.com/2010/08/i-see-you-standing-there.html">Bonk</a></i>, Mary Roach's exploration of sex in our society. <br />
<br />
The only thing I've been recommending to people who like <i>50 Shades</i> that I haven't mentioned here is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Sleeping_Beauty_Trilogy">Anne Rice's <i>Beauty</i> series</a>. It's been around a long time so many of you may know it. It's very specifically BDSM. I've got the first one and re-read parts of it often but haven't gone on to the rest. I think I'll have to add those to my very tall To Read pile. <br />
<br />
I'll see you soon with another of the posts I've been procrastinating on. Let's keep the conversation rolling!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-57201917711025485972011-11-20T17:48:00.000-08:002011-11-20T17:48:48.304-08:00Who's That Girl?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8zuQedNrKekgpYlXCPnmkpyj4ilPxEVycrVrtaOAIAI0Aof3fak89LFQ3vR5IjlkoWoldyUDTBmRj53k8NdIlzLLUEQNKZDz8l-1Y4bS5l2WnupZOYkNino7NZtQ3wnP-UbF8lLEZB8i7/s1600/3033713578_95e795a21b_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8zuQedNrKekgpYlXCPnmkpyj4ilPxEVycrVrtaOAIAI0Aof3fak89LFQ3vR5IjlkoWoldyUDTBmRj53k8NdIlzLLUEQNKZDz8l-1Y4bS5l2WnupZOYkNino7NZtQ3wnP-UbF8lLEZB8i7/s320/3033713578_95e795a21b_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I have a window in my bathroom. If you're from most places this isn't a huge deal. If you live in New York it's like I just said my cat shits diamonds. My window is small but so is my bathroom so it works out great. It's by the tub and has a sill where I can keep shampoo and stuff. I love showering in the sunlight but don't get much of a chance to do it.<br />
<br />
The last few days I've hit the sweet spot and showered in warm rays of sunshine. It turns out the angle of the sun makes for a reflection I've never seen before. At the foot of the tub I can see my upper body clear as if the tiles were mirrors. Almost that clear but not quite because in the reflection I look like I have the most enormous rack!<br />
<br />
I've always liked my breasts but they couldn't be classified as enormous in any context so it's cool to see myself as this character out of a bad Skinemax feature. I'm all soapy and wet and normal showering protocol starts to look way more racy than it really is.<br />
<br />
It's no surprise to me that seeing oneself out of context can make you feel sexy even though seeing yourself with fresh eyes isn't always so great. A few years ago I went on a weight loss program not because I felt especially fat but because I saw some photos and I didn't recognize myself. I wasn't hugely overweight but I didn't feel like me so I decided to try and change it. This shower experience was similar in that it took me a moment to realize it was really me I was seeing but, in contrast, it was completely delightful. I believe that I've gone about my day with a little pep in my step, a little swagger in my wagger, if you will, because of it.<br />
<br />
When was the last time you saw yourself differently and it felt great?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-49854888594288045502011-11-16T13:24:00.000-08:002011-11-16T13:24:03.512-08:00Pick A Little Talk A Little<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWvvcoka2itA9QpfqSXJDEY3HeCFYko8LbM6OL7HKD3CeFUi2woYh-6WnL74eReWZjhmpR8a_bOcHGART5k3IWXiJwK5tgw3K5cG5Ronwpqh4gnrfpcYrGf9Qr0COKM7jEQjxMnxABfCz/s1600/4699634726_3e76db2eb6_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWvvcoka2itA9QpfqSXJDEY3HeCFYko8LbM6OL7HKD3CeFUi2woYh-6WnL74eReWZjhmpR8a_bOcHGART5k3IWXiJwK5tgw3K5cG5Ronwpqh4gnrfpcYrGf9Qr0COKM7jEQjxMnxABfCz/s320/4699634726_3e76db2eb6_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I don't know how many of you know the origins of this site but I think now's a good time for a quick refresher. When <a href="http://derfwadmanor.squarespace.com/">Mrs. G</a> founded a community blog called the Women's Colony she, rightly, thought that a sex blogger would be a good piece of the puzzle. She already had a team of fantastic writers so she (I assume, I wasn't there but this is the impression I got) asked around to see who wanted to grab that apple off the tree and everyone politely declined. We'd met in person and we were blog friends so she asked me if I would do it. I don't know if she knew before that offer that it's something I'd been interested in for a long time.<br />
<br />
So I joined the Colony Crew and loved writing the G Spot column even on the days when I hated it. Mrs. G was right, it was a really popular section. It was not, however, a column that always got a ton of comments. People were reading but they were keeping mum. They seemed shy to talk about sex in general as well as online. We made some decisions about encouraging anonymity for comments if it made people feel more comfortable and the discussions opened up a lot. I'm sorry that, when the site closed, those comments were lost because I learned a lot. Some lessons were easier to accept than others, sure, but I was grateful to learn them anyway. After getting to know and trust me as a moderator and with the ability to post anonymously our readers were extremely brave and giving which led me to keep the conversations going here, albeit sporadically, after the Women's Colony was no more. <br />
<br />
Today blogging Titan, <a href="http://www.sweetney.com/">Sweetney</a>, opened up a conversation about moms and sex. In part she wonders if any moms are having sex because they aren't really talking about it. She was surprised to find that the majority of commenters are emailing her their answers. I'm not surprised but I'm glad that her readers trust her enough to talk to her about it even if they want to stay anonymous to the larger internet. I encourage you to <a href="http://www.sweetney.com/2011/11/moms-sex-help-me-help-you.html">check out the post</a> if you haven't already. Let's talk!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-71483547707307602462011-10-21T18:36:00.000-07:002011-10-21T18:36:23.019-07:00Not At All Like Bungee JumpingYou know what's inspirational? Fisting!<br />
<br />
Today is Fisting Day and I can't let it pass without a post. I don't know if it's National Fisting Day or International, maybe Universal. I'll take it whoever is endorsing it. <br />
<br />
OK, full disclosure, I don't know a lot about this. That's why I'm so thrilled, though. It's a topic about which I am very intrigued. I would never bungee jump but I imagine the combination of excitement and fear about fisting is how people feel when they want to bungee jump. Let's hope that someday I have as much fun as the people in those amusement park commercials seem to.<br />
<br />
Back to the topic of having a Fisting Day. What's great is that it brings out great information and resources. Let me share what I've found. <br />
<br />
First is aagblog with <a href="http://aagblog.com/2011/10/21/fisting-day/">a list</a> of all the fisting posts she's done.<br />
<br />
Secondly aagblog also links to Jiz Lee's <a href="http://jizlee.com/wordpress/october-21st-is-fisting-day/">fisting contribution</a> (which confirms that it's actually International Fisting Day [unofficially]).<br />
<br />
Babeland reviews posted a fisting link <a href="http://babeland.tumblr.com/post/11749716602/fist">round up</a>.<br />
<br />
Dylan Ryan contributed <a href="http://triple-xxx-ploits.tumblr.com/">a photo</a> that's somehow both hot and kind of funny. <br />
<br />
If you've got anything you've found please let us know in the comments.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-58007345839631093772011-08-07T10:47:00.000-07:002011-08-07T10:47:11.829-07:00Finding Your Own TechniqueEden Fantasys had a booth in the Expo Hall at Blogher this year. They were displaying some high end toys and giving gift bags with two different kinds of lower end vibrators. The branded bags were proudly displayed all weekend long and I have overheard countless conversations about how women will be getting their goodies home. Some want them in checked baggage with minimal scrutiny. Some are shipping them home with other swag that won't fit in their luggage. Yesterday I found myself alone in a big conference center bathroom and next to the sink where I washed my hands was a small swag backpack. Curious if it was empty and abandoned or if I should turn it in to lost and found I peeked in the open zipper to see one item, the giveaway vibe. Oh no! I decided to leave it there. I figured either someone was too embarrassed to have it or pass it on and had chosen a lost treasure approach to recycling or they'd want it back but might be too shy to describe it at lost and found.<br />
<br />
What would you have done?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-54832671150877636802011-08-03T08:10:00.000-07:002011-08-03T08:10:51.671-07:00But Before I Go...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvmEd2mjltYP-f7k0BBimVrlYeWRucNqMN1HkCnuNPKbMyXnrC25lTLvS4vagUAj1c0MxtBQmoBXZsb7-vqiSZP80rFLIwS0iCeVAuBDq3wkw_4GDEvTKd69oLNM0MFnu0jKQ6h3Yc6szr/s1600/Ina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvmEd2mjltYP-f7k0BBimVrlYeWRucNqMN1HkCnuNPKbMyXnrC25lTLvS4vagUAj1c0MxtBQmoBXZsb7-vqiSZP80rFLIwS0iCeVAuBDq3wkw_4GDEvTKd69oLNM0MFnu0jKQ6h3Yc6szr/s1600/Ina.jpg" /></a></div>I'm headed off to <a href="http://www.blogher.com/">Blogher</a> in a few hours but I was reminded of a couple of things this morning. First, I owe a friend a vibe recommendation post. <i>So</i> overdue. I will get on that, so to speak, as soon as possible. Second, I will be in the very same city as the original, awesome <a href="http://www.goodvibes.com/main.jhtml">Good Vibrations</a> storefront. So going. So. Absolutely. Going. Stay tuned.<br />
<br />
In the mean time, would you help me tide my friend over by letting her know what your favorite sex toy is, please? I now live in fear that her current vibe, which is on its last...well, legs, will give up the ghost before I've chimed in about what she should get next.<br />
<br />
I'll kick us off. I haven't tried this one but I would really, really, like to. I saw it over at Epiphora's blog when she was putting together a <a href="http://www.heyepiphora.com/2011/02/giveaway-green-sex-toys-for-everyone/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=rss&utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=giveaway-green-sex-toys-for-everyone">round up of green sex toys</a>. It's the <a href="http://www.heyepiphora.com/2010/06/review-ina/">Ina Rabbit Vibrator</a> by <a href="http://en.lelo.com/">Lelo</a>. I guess it's not for everyone but it sure looks like it might be for me!<br />
<br />
Ok, now you go.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-41863234362714364062011-08-01T11:15:00.000-07:002011-08-01T11:15:56.317-07:00Fiction: 7 Flight Plunge<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ-93Foo40qjRKH0Bs90mW7AZuLxLe42nBpKDIPrJ44GOs_yJTihkG64dCZ5Kl7-duQZnUzGM6V743hjTgA_QJatYS9QJYHr1R2aOF32hsbkjgYl32lYfvV2jNkPMRYj5ji6vvlMX7CC-I/s1600/5928177853_8cecb645ea_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ-93Foo40qjRKH0Bs90mW7AZuLxLe42nBpKDIPrJ44GOs_yJTihkG64dCZ5Kl7-duQZnUzGM6V743hjTgA_QJatYS9QJYHr1R2aOF32hsbkjgYl32lYfvV2jNkPMRYj5ji6vvlMX7CC-I/s320/5928177853_8cecb645ea_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b>7 Flight Plunge</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">M/F</div><div class="MsoNormal">Rated: PG-13</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">**********</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Lost. No warning at all. Totally lost. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’d met him at another party. Maybe it was a concert. Friend’s birthday? We couldn’t recall. We’d only spoken briefly at this party. There was a lull between when I arrived and when everyone else I knew did. As I passed the kitchen I recognized a familiar face and grasped that social straw.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m terrible at parties. No, not terrible, I am <i>average</i> at parties. I say vague things and tell minimally interesting stories and every once in a while manage to get off one brilliant joke so people don’t just turn away from me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That’s happened before. Occasionally people do just stop listening to me, pivot 45 degrees in another direction and leave me hanging. I was so relieved when my friends showed I probably did that to him.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After the songs were sung and the candles blown out and the toasts made everyone’s brains toasty I snuck out. I was too tired for stairs. So I punched the button for the elevator and made myself busy with my phone. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Been waiting long?” he asked. I hadn't even heard him behind me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I looked up, less startled because I was more drunk, and he was right there, barely a person’s width away from me. My head swung around and suddenly I was looking right into his eyes. I’m too shy to do that normally. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">They were green. A jade green that seemed polished and cool but alive. He wasn’t shy. He was looking directly at me, not turning away. I can’t speak for his mouth but his eyes were smiling. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As usually happens in these situations I was speechless. I got a little unexpected vertigo and fell forward a bit into the eyes. I hadn’t noticed them before. I’m not an eyes person normally. I tend toward hands, sometimes lips or chins. Always something you can see when your head is bowed a little. This time, though, I got caught in the eyes and was suddenly lost. They seemed to want me right where they had me. He was going to pivot in the other direction any second and I’d lose them. I stood up on my tiptoes, braced myself with a hand on his shoulder and kissed him. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He kindly stepped in toward me so I wouldn’t tip over. I felt his hand on my waist, just at the hip, and it didn’t just rest there he held it the way you tighten your hand around something you don’t want to drop. I finished kissing and leaned back ever so slightly then he closed the gap and returned the favor. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Before I wanted it to be over a bell dinged and the elevator doors opened. We each spun a bit to face the arriving carriage. I licked my lips, wondering if I looked kissed but unable to stop grinning. I was a little embarrassed but his hand hadn’t left my hip. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">No one was in there. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He guided me into the elevator in quite a gentlemanly way. We turned, as you do, to face front. The doors closed.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">At lightning speed we were kissing again. I stabbed my fingers into his loose, curly hair and that hand of his moved off my hip. It came front and I felt a nipple pinched between fingertips. The sweet sting of it made me rise all the way up on my toes. I was vaguely aware of trying to straddle one of his legs. Any second clothes were going to come off. How long did it take to go down 7 flights anyway?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">CLACK</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The apartment door opened and someone else exited the party. “Been waiting long?” she asked as she rummaged in her stylish purse. <i>She</i> wasn’t looking in anyone’s eyes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I’ve only been here a minute and…” he gestured to me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Just a couple of minutes, not long at all.” I stammered.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We all turned to face the elevator doors, thinking our own thoughts. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-18595009098456061102011-07-28T12:37:00.000-07:002011-07-28T12:37:31.107-07:00Hello Stranger<em>***The following is a reprint from the Kizz & Tell's origins as a column known as The G-spot at <a href="http://thewomenscolony.com/">The Women's Colony</a>. There was a rousing discussion there when it was <a href="http://thewomenscolony.com/home/2010/3/9/g-spot-hello-stranger-by-kizz.html">first published</a> on March 9, 2010. Hope we'll get a little more of that today. Thanks for reading. ***</em><br />
<br />
<em>The G-spot is coming a little early this week (heh) in order to be part of the theme issue. The photo challenge will appear Friday. There isn't a lot of physically raw information here but emotionally some of it may be triggering. Proceed with that in mind.</em><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" src="http://thewomenscolony.com/storage/11003428_gal.jpg?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1268105770892" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="full-image-block ssNonEditable"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="thumbnail-caption" style="width: 462px;">Tom Wilkinson in Normal</span></span></span></div>There's this great movie from 2003, <a href="http://www.tower.com/normal-jessica-lange-dvd/wapi/107046784">Normal</a>. Tom Wilkinson plays Roy Applewood, a mild mannered midwestern guy and Jessica Lange is his wife of many years. They have teenaged kids and a nice, comfortable suburban life. Until, of course, Applewood admits to himself and eventually to his family, friends and neighbors that there's something he hasn't yet dared tell. He's a woman and he needs to change his body to match his identity.<br />
<br />
I've been thinking about Normal because I've been thinking about how little we know each other. It's especially prevalent on the internet because blogging has evolved into something that often celebrates brutal honesty while providing numerous opportunities to conceal truth. I recently read <a href="http://www.dooce.com/">Heather Armstrong's</a> book, <a href="http://books.simonandschuster.com/buy/It-Sucked-and-Then-I-Cried/9781416936015/from-other-retailers#book_retailers">It Sucked & Then I Cried</a>. It took me a long while to get to it because I understood it would cover the period of Dooce's life that I had first read online. I suspected she'd add some new information but that mostly it would be familiar. She did and it was. There were two glaring omissions, from my biased point of view, two stories that, from my angle, were absolutely <em>critical</em> to understanding who Heather is. Right off the bat that's crazy because it presumes that I have any idea who she is just from reading her web site for a number of years. I've never met her, what makes me think I know her? Who am I to say that the bathtub poop story or the bra cabbage story are any more or less indicative of her true self than anything else. But, I read it, she <em>told</em> me who she is. Didn't she?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" src="http://thewomenscolony.com/storage/12847__transamerica_l.jpg?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1268105817178" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="full-image-block ssNonEditable"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="thumbnail-caption" style="width: 400px;"> Felicity Huffman in Transamerica</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I <a href="http://117hudson.blogspot.com/">blog</a> now. I tell people who I am. Sometimes I'm pretty honest about it. On the other hand there are things that I leave out. In the same way that there are plenty of things I leave out when I talk to people or write them letters or post on Facebook or fill out a job application. Sure, posting that picture of me from when I was 25 with a migraine and a shitty perm and the glasses that ate Kentucky can seem like an act of soul baring but I'm 41 now. I have a life and a job and a dead dog on my bookshelf, that picture costs me nothing emotionally and people like it so out it goes as some twisted kind of currency. But it doesn't mean that everyone who reads me <em>knows</em> me. How could they? I still haven't told anyone what it was like lying on the floor next to my beloved pooch the day I arranged to put her out of her misery. Not by blog or in person or a letter or by smoke signal. And how could anyone know me if they don't know that?<br />
<br />
Maybe the people who know me in real life and read my blog know most of me, though, enough of me, whatever that is. <a href="http://mistiridiculous.com/">Misti</a>, <a href="http://theinnerdoor.wordpress.com/">Chili</a>, <a href="http://chromeplatedgirl.blogspot.com/">Chrome</a> & <a href="http://whodoesshethinksheisanyway.wordpress.com/">Auntie</a> have my cell number and can text me in the middle of the night if they need me. They live in different places so we don't see each other all the time but we're friends on terra firma so they must have some advantage. Except how many times do I write something and get an e-mail or a text from a good friend, "What's going on?!?!?" "Is that about so and so doing such and such?" "I didn't know you were doing that."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" src="http://thewomenscolony.com/storage/4266826541_e5678eba83.jpg?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1268105880567" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="full-image-block ssNonEditable"><span class="thumbnail-caption" style="width: 341px;">Kizz in Montreal 199?</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Which brings us back to Normal. How well can we ever know anyone, even someone with whom we've made babies (or at least practiced really, really hard)? For me, the most intricate part of this movie's writing is parsing Lange's character because she knew her husband, she loved him and they'd been together a long time. She wasn't going to have any more surprises, they were on the path to happily ever after and then she finds out that, the way her husband and best friend perceives it, she's <em>never</em> known his core being. It's not her fault. How could she have known if he'd carefully constructed a life that protected him from such a potentially dangerous revelation? And yet he'd led her to believe that she knew him. He'd encouraged her to open up and be her most vulnerable self with him with expectation of reciprocation and...he didn't. <br />
<br />
Can we ever really know anyone?<br />
<br />
We hear that question a lot. It comes up in relation to sexuality, to politics and, of course, to religion. Knowing that we still pair ourselves up, make friends, help neighbors, comment on blogs, love each other and lay bare our souls for other people to poke around in. Life is full of surprises and not all of them are good. I am continually surprised by people, especially on the internet. A commenter on my lark of a post regarding <a href="http://thewomenscolony.com/home/2010/2/26/g-spot-come-for-the-gold-by-kizz.html">a sexual Olympics</a> said she didn't understand it at all. Thank goodness for her, because, as silly as I know it was, I thought it was almost boring in its straightforwardness and yet it was so far out of her mindset she couldn't even fathom it. How would two people like us ever meet up in person? But here we are. She read it all the way through and took the time to comment about it too. It's miraculous, this deeply flawed medium. I derive great joy from reading the stories of lives that writers give me (and you and everyone else) and it's all non-fiction, it's all the truth...whatever that is. <em>Isn't it</em>?<br />
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How does this relate to the <a href="http://thewomenscolony.com/home/tag/g-spot">G-spot</a>? In a lot of ways. Let's think a little bit about all the ways we could be surprised by a partner: The biggies include but are not limited to infidelity, infidelity with a side of STD, coming out as GLBTQ, announcing transsexuality, falling out of love, quitting a job. On a smaller level what if you were approached by your partner about a desire to explore bondage or swinging or a fetish of any kind (mother-baby play, furries, feet, lingerie, anything), or mutual masturbation or a new position or public sex acts?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" src="http://thewomenscolony.com/storage/4242798736_6d872fc8fa.jpg?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1268105937862" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="full-image-block ssNonEditable"><span class="thumbnail-caption" style="width: 500px;">My dog, Emily</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Have you ever been confronted with something like this? Have you ever felt, for a moment, that you really didn't know the cherished person in front of you? How did you handle it? My challenges have been few in this regard and I've been fortunate that they've been very much in tune with the way I think. I took a chance one day and asked a boy about a pair of handcuffs. He didn't balk, he didn't re-evaluate his vision of me, he grabbed his debit card and found the nearest place to buy handcuffs. When I unbuttoned his jeans a few months later and discovered a cute pair of ladies' cotton undies it turned out to be more delight than shock. I wonder if he still wears those sometimes. What if he'd added a wig and heels? What if he'd wanted to try breath play, which scares me? What if he wanted to try long term celibacy, which also kind of scares me?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" src="http://thewomenscolony.com/storage/2936119841_4b6dc2d41f.jpg?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1268106000337" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="full-image-block ssNonEditable"><span class="thumbnail-caption" style="width: 432px;">Misti's foot, one of my highest viewed photos on <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/31403417@N00/">Flickr</a></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>For the record I don't remember how Normal ends. I know it's difficult for Mrs. Applewood but I think she defends and supports her husband with everything she has. I could be wrong, though, I might just have blocked the disappointing part out.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-13098491432010769922011-07-20T19:27:00.000-07:002011-07-20T19:27:26.001-07:00When Anticipation Goes Too Far<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwo_B0W4waGiUIZEyeYT9D324XDQuwRo8YJ7dsS8C2Yjyt1gqncNdBkiYFTDjpzl2wnNUcfe_Rt8FL4w2RLdCSxbCwiyw7lYXUJrixDesJdpkyfI6uay7ahFKaPJyKrdl3BVO1kdM1-OGh/s1600/_DSC3216_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwo_B0W4waGiUIZEyeYT9D324XDQuwRo8YJ7dsS8C2Yjyt1gqncNdBkiYFTDjpzl2wnNUcfe_Rt8FL4w2RLdCSxbCwiyw7lYXUJrixDesJdpkyfI6uay7ahFKaPJyKrdl3BVO1kdM1-OGh/s320/_DSC3216_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Way, waaaaaaay too far, eh?<br />
<br />
I missed you! Sorry that I jumped ship for a bit. Let me lead by saying this is what I'm going to do in today's post, 1. ask a little question and 2. announce the ding dang winner of the <a href="http://comstockfilms.com/">Comstock Films</a> <a href="http://www.tellkizz.com/2011/03/cross-posted-at-117-hudson-i-was-going.html">giveaway</a>! <i>Finally</i>.<br />
<br />
1. I don't usually talk about writing here because that's not what this space is generally about. It's relevant right now, though, because clearly I had a hard time keeping up with writing here. Then I put off writing until I could do it "right." And here we are.<br />
<br />
I'm having the same issue with doing nice sensual and sexual things for myself. There's no use listing all the reasons because they're wildly familiar. Say the first reason that comes into your head. Yup, it's on my list. I can almost guarantee it. For both writing and sex it's important to keep in practice. And I mean that in the yogic sense of the word, not the piano one.<br />
<br />
So, the other day I had to get up about 40 minutes before the alarm to do one 3 minute task. Kind of not enough time to go back to sleep. Too much time to waste doing nothing. Too early to get up and go to the park with the dog. But you know? It was kind of the perfect amount of time for a <i>personal treat</i>, if you know what I mean, and a rest. So I did. Felt much better when it was time to start my day, too.<br />
<br />
So the question is, of course, what have you done for yourself lately? And I don't mean did you change the oil in your car. Please elaborate in the comments. Italicized euphemisms not required.<br />
<br />
2. <a href="http://www.tellkizz.com/2011/03/cross-posted-at-117-hudson-i-was-going.html">Giveaway</a>!<br />
<br />
For the record here's what I did:<br />
<br />
1. Wrote each entrant's name down the number of times they had earned to be included.<br />
2. Went to random.org's list randomizer and had the list mixed up officially randomly.<br />
3. Moved over to random.org's number generator to have it select a number. It was 2.<br />
4. Go back to the randomized list to see who was in the 2nd slot.<br />
5. Alert <a href="http://mistiridiculous.com/">MistiRidiculous</a>, aka Zelda, aka MKAEP, to check her mailbox in the next couple of days for a copy of <a href="http://shop.comstockfilms.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=4&products_id=1&zenid=he2p5707kjdnv69k98hhfhvg24">Matt & Khym: Better Than Ever</a> because SHE WON!<br />
<br />
Thank you all for entering and I will do this again and in a more timely fashion so I hope you'll win next time. Every one of you!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-76562034212334674842011-03-28T11:06:00.000-07:002011-03-28T11:09:35.960-07:00Insert Sheen Joke Here<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUpaQiaZwAJSt9mQ0fN3AFNRaZdJ9EGqoa6eKR79m2F8tXTDeUpxorsU5cujFRbyGOdR9lJ5a5D2VneTSoABU9mvU4N_hYtIThZ2lXCyXhGSs5rTY5FVgO27tdcJy9qZAXRnjO5dBCAoo/s1600/5565173407_38d1abbc92_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUpaQiaZwAJSt9mQ0fN3AFNRaZdJ9EGqoa6eKR79m2F8tXTDeUpxorsU5cujFRbyGOdR9lJ5a5D2VneTSoABU9mvU4N_hYtIThZ2lXCyXhGSs5rTY5FVgO27tdcJy9qZAXRnjO5dBCAoo/s400/5565173407_38d1abbc92_b.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>*Cross posted at <a href="http://www.117-hudson.com/">117 Hudson</a>* <br />
<br />
I was going to write some really sad shit here, y'all. Feeling sad, sharing sad, I am made of generosity. Then I typed the first sentence of this entry into the url bar instead of "blogger.com" and decided my brain was not meant for writing of the deep today. So let's have a contest.<br />
<br />
Remember <a href="http://www.comstockfilms.com/blog/tony/">Tony Comstock</a>? You better. He's opened <a href="http://www.sailingmontauk.com/">a new business venture of sailing trips</a> off the coast of Long Island on his pretty little boat. Then he had another stellar idea (I bet Peggy helped) that they would raise money to fund a stipend for a <a href="http://www.comstockfilms.com/blog/tony/2011/03/25/now-accepting-applications-for-the-comstock-foundation-subgenius-grant/">Comstock SubGenius Grant</a>. The grant will get you a week in September of life on the lovely boat and the stipend to ease your way to spending that time getting some honest work done on what you love. Your only obligation that week will be to have dinner with the Comstock Clan on Wednesday September 14. Nice work if you can get it.<br />
<br />
<i>I want it. </i><br />
<br />
So I'll apply and all will be well whether I receive the grant or not.<br />
<br />
<i>However</i>, the stipend-raising hit a snag today when Kickstarter kicked the grant off their system. Details aren't important but Tony has a new plan, of course. For the next 24 hours (until noon Eastern on Tuesday March 29) half of the profits from all Comstock films sold will go into the stipend fund.<br />
<br />
Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to <a href="http://shop.comstockfilms.com/">buy</a> a copy of <a href="http://shop.comstockfilms.com/">Matt & Khym</a> (review coming, no seriously, I <i>promise</i>) today during the stipend-raising period. I'm going to give it away to one of you on Saturday. This is what you can do to increase your chances of winning.<br />
<br />
- Leave a comment here: 1 entry<br />
- Leave a comment at <a href="http://www.tellkizz.com/">Kizz & Tell</a>: 1 entry<br />
- Tweet a link to your favorite <a href="http://www.tellkizz.com/">Kizz & Tell</a> post (leave a comment here with the link): 1 entry<br />
- <a href="http://shop.comstockfilms.com/">Buy a Comstock Film</a> after the stipend raising period has ended (comment here to tell me, honor system): 3 entries<br />
- Buy a Comstock Film <i>during</i> the stipend raising period (comment here to tell me, honor system): 5 entries<br />
- Blog about Comstock Films (comment here or at Kizz & Tell with a link): 10 entries <br />
<br />
Contest ends at midnight on Friday April 1st (no fooling!). I'll select a winner on Saturday and announce it here.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-67715891257704757912011-02-14T13:02:00.000-08:002011-02-14T13:02:25.304-08:00Soar Like A Frog<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5WMbFgWq9GZf6lkNmY3W1fdqw-w71PnFxg_pGx7EQxULAl3YpGg6e_t8CuR7jXuEmxadjyw1X5TPLB-gf7okC2OmWZUt-oX17OEefnBbEChTjMSFKXHa2DHVWQl6eF6S4O8Mc-ND_cC1T/s1600/5379193883_8145c47053_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5WMbFgWq9GZf6lkNmY3W1fdqw-w71PnFxg_pGx7EQxULAl3YpGg6e_t8CuR7jXuEmxadjyw1X5TPLB-gf7okC2OmWZUt-oX17OEefnBbEChTjMSFKXHa2DHVWQl6eF6S4O8Mc-ND_cC1T/s320/5379193883_8145c47053_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Chocolate based recipes, <a href="http://www.tellkizz.com/search/label/fiction">love stories</a> and jewelry ads have been assailing me for a week. For the most part I don't care. I love chocolate, I'm a sucker for a love story (I'm voluntarily watching the <a href="http://robert-downeyjr.net/">Robert Downey, Jr.</a> episodes of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ally_McBeal">Ally McBeal</a> and they are <i>smoking</i>) and I can easily tune out the jewelry stuff since they're not hawking things that are my style. Everyone has their saturation point, though. I'm not here to hate on the day, no holiday rooted in chocolate can be all bad, but I would like to provide some balance.<br />
<br />
Once upon a time in a cool apartment in New York City's Chinatown I sat on a grungy futon to receive a gift of love. It came in an intricately carved wooden box, the kind sold on a big sheet on the sidewalk alongside statues of giraffes and elephants and skinny women with big boobs. "It" consisted of a number of animals origami-folded out of bright colored paper. Along with the fauna was a story. The boy lifted each carefully creased creature out of the box and paired it with a line of a little poem. The poem was all about how wonderful a person I was and how I, I don't know, elevated his humanity or something. Off the top of my head the only line I remember was about making him soar and the only item I remember was a frog that actually hopped when you flicked it just right. I also remember that it was deeply sweet and kind and heartfelt if just slightly corny. At the bottom of the box were, I think, 2 subway tokens so we could go somewhere specific in the city, I don't recall where.<br />
<br />
Go ahead, you can give your big aaawwwwww now, I'll wait.<br />
<br />
To understand the fullness of the moment, however, you have to realize that watching him present this gift was an out of body experience for me. I couldn't absorb the sweetness of it because I had stepped out of my skin and was standing beside myself well nigh screaming in my own ear, "Oh no he isn't. Is he? Please tell me he's not. He can't! What are you going to do if he does? We cannot do this. There is just no good way about it. Make it stop. Right now you, you make it stop right now or else....or else...." and then the subway tokens came out. I was, well not sure, but strongly afraid that he was going to propose to me. Small metal object coming out after the paper critters read as "RING! RING! ABORT! ABORT! ABORT!!" instead of, "Cool, free train ride." I didn't want to marry him. We led a life so woven together with all of our friends and families and pets and jobs at that point that leaving didn't seem feasible but staying? To agree to stay in that place, emotionally if not physically, would require powers of self-deception even I did not possess.<br />
<br />
I can only imagine how my reception looked to him. I sat, silent and stiff, as he poured out these words and presented these items straight from his heart then, when I saw that they weren't rings, I must have sagged in relief. How would that have read? I know he was nervous, that was part of what scared me so, and it turns out he had good reason to be.<br />
<br />
I still have the box and the origami. Just passing by it in a bunch of keepsakes gives me awkward pit-of-the-stomachness. Throwing it away seems disrespectful, though, so I bury it a little lower in the detritus of a life I used to live and wait until next time.<br />
<br />
Now you go. Let's not limit ourselves to Valentine's Day. What's the most awkward romantic moment you can remember?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3114790288703878798.post-25140109180652514792011-01-19T11:36:00.000-08:002011-01-19T11:36:34.973-08:00Once Is Enough?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW0PHCrXU2ft5uXrkXHWtEZPrQlQwPwYK5b7LeXCZkqbUcc9qDOxOVBV9YkoOlJolUt3P_zaa1HatYB4R37FuzgbERI7hgKHx87-RN5SvSIsQriQED6kxYBi94B-ROMf0-X1dDL7p55SR4/s1600/3704385306_07cf66a476_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW0PHCrXU2ft5uXrkXHWtEZPrQlQwPwYK5b7LeXCZkqbUcc9qDOxOVBV9YkoOlJolUt3P_zaa1HatYB4R37FuzgbERI7hgKHx87-RN5SvSIsQriQED6kxYBi94B-ROMf0-X1dDL7p55SR4/s400/3704385306_07cf66a476_b.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>M/F<br />
<br />
R for language, sexual content, emotion<br />
<br />
***<span id="internal-source-marker_0.8536711231319059" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">It would have been so easy. Normally hearing her laugh, making her feel better wouldn't have been a problem. We are friends, after all, and she is hurting. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Her timing, our timing, however, is atrocious.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">She is in the throes of a huge breakup. The guy she'd stumbled across right after we met has...you know, it doesn't even matter why or how. They’re breaking up and she isn't happy about it and a friend would help, wouldn't he? She doesn't want a joke or a night at the movies. I know her well enough to read the signs. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I know it would have been so easy last night to turn my head when she hugged me goodbye. I could have kissed her right up against the back of the front door. It would have felt delicious to press my whole body against her, feel her breasts, even through that oddly fuzzy little coat she wore. She would have smiled, with her eyes closed, and hummed a little, way back in her throat. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Or I could have simply moved in a little closer as she stood at the sink last Sunday afternoon and I reached into a cupboard above her to grab a glass. I could have brushed the backs of my fingers over her cheek, run my palm down her side, pressed my thumb against the center seam of her jeans until she leaned back against me. She’d have hummed then, too. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I admit it, I’m a little obsessed with the humming. On New Year’s Eve a few years ago at midnight she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me soundly on the cheek. Then she turned to him and and leaned in, very slowly, for a kiss. When their lips met she did that little humming thing. It made him smile. It made my chest tight. Then it made me think about her humming around my cock.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I’m a nice guy but I’m not dead. I think about that stuff.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I think about it a lot. I think about the taste of satay sauce on her lips when we order in from her favorite Thai place. I think about the slippery seawater tang of her other lips. I think about how her hair would smell after we’d had sex, right before she fell asleep. And, yeah, I think about holding both her arms above her head and thrusting into her cunt with abandon.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I know her pretty well. I honestly think she’d like that.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">She’s going through this break up, though. It wouldn’t be right to press her at this point, no matter how much she thinks it would relieve suffering. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Or maybe it would. Sometimes a little sexy naked time is exactly what’s called for when your heart is breaking. So perhaps, just perhaps, my reluctance has nothing to do with protecting her and her fragile emotional shell. I’m not saying it for certain but it’s possible, quite possible, that I’m protecting myself. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">As much as I picture her naked and writhing across my yard sale super bargain sheets humming her desire into my collar bone I picture her plunking down across the coffee table from me with her laptop. Not the sad, defeated way she does now (though I fear that might come later, once she’s gotten to know me like she knows him) but happily, there because she belongs there, there because she wants to be there. With me. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Tonight the moping recovery girl will surely “just swing by” for an hour or so of companionable silence and TV with a beer and chips chaser. When she leans her head against my shoulder, sighs from the depths of her lungs and smooths her hand over mine I could kiss her fingers, suck one in my mouth maybe, lay her back on my lumpy second hand sofa and lick a smile out of her. With a little concentration and luck I bet I could even get her to giggle. But I’m damnably self-aware enough to know I wouldn’t want to do that just the once. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I know her, sure, but it turns out I don’t know her well enough to know if, for her, once would be enough. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2