Vajazzle!

So, the other day on the George Lopez show, a topic that deserves attention was introduced.

The vajazzle.

Apparently, one or more salons have started to apply Swarovski crystals after a bikini wax.

At first I thought this was strange.

I was picturing blinged labia. And that sounded itchy and uncomfortable. It also seemed like the crystals would come off during fucking and end up in the vagina. Which could be seriously irritating. But i appreciated the sentiment. Glitter is good.

In fact, if there is one axiom I live by it's that. Glitter is good. And pit bulls. And my snuggie. And knitting. And my Gigi. And my wife.

Ok, it's among other things, but glitter is up there.

Since someone was glittering something I wasn't, I did a little bit of digging.

The spa that's getting the most attention for this is called Completely Bare. It's a NYC spa dedicated to hair removal of all types, including a brazilian style bikini wax followed by the application of:

a Swarovski crystal tattoo design in starburst, butterfly, heart and other shapes.

Suddenly this made sense. The crystals go above the pussy on the pubic mound where the hair just was. This could be itchy as well, but, SPARKLY! And, well, I WANT IT.

Glitter just above the pussy. In a cute little pattern.

Such things give me hope for the world. Tear.

Donating to Haiti in Hampden

On Monday, January 18th, Martin Luther King day, multiple businesses in Hampden will be donating a portion of sales to Haitian relief efforts.

The following businesses will be participating (check back as more may be added):

Sugar - donating 10% of sales to CARE

Red Tree - donating % to CARE

Earth Alley

Breathe Books

Doubledutch ***10% off AND 10% to CARE or Doctors Without Borders SATURDAY and SUNDAY (not Monday)

Edye Sanford - a ready to wear and custom clothing website based in Hampden will be donating 10% of ready to wear sales and 5% of custom sales thru the end of January.

I selected CARE by going thru the four star ratings on Charity Navigator (a online site that has reviews financial reports of charitable organizations) and looking at agencies that had well established services in Haiti before the earthquake and also had experience in disastor relief. Lastly, I chose CARE because in addition to medical services, they also are engaged in emergency food delivery.

Please support Haiti in whatever manner you are able. This is a nation that was already facing massive challenges including severe food inadequacy and high rates of HIV.

Thanks for your support!

The G-Spot and some shoddy science across the pond

**warning: snarky**

ok, so, the Brits have announced with great fuss that there is no G-Spot.

Well, my G-Spot and I would like to respectfully disagree.

First of all, the study was conducted in a manner that doesn't make any sense. If you are looking for an anatomical structure that some folks have difficulty in finding, and many are unaware of, how would you go about doing that? Why by asking folks to tell you if they have one.

Seriously.

That's what they did. The study is not based on any type of hands on, actually scientific method. It was a survey. They did attempt to make the survey more "sciency" by asking twins the questions. Under the assumption that if one twin had identified her G-Spot the other necessarily would have as well. Which is a bad assumption. Because it assumes that the twins also have identical sexual histories. Which would be weird. And frankly a bit creepy.

And this study that claimed to find no G-Spot? Yep, 56% of women in the study said they had one. You heard that, 56%. But the opinions of those women were discounted because they were among women that were younger and more sexually active. Gee, the folks who have had more sex were more aware of their body structures? Huh, shocking.

And the woman who led the survey? She claims to have started the survey to:

remove feelings of “inadequacy or underachievement” that might affect women who feared they lacked a G-spot.

No bias there.

So here's the deal. The G-Spot exists. It is the urethral sponge and surrounds the urethras of folks who were identified female at birth. It is not the holy grail. People can have wonderful fabulous sex lives without ever intentionally playing with their G-Spot. Some folks don't like to have their G-Spots stimulated. Others do.

And, Andrea Burri, the researcher who headed up this study, I'll make an offer. With your permission and informed consent, I'd be happy to show you where your G-Spot is. And please stop with the shoddy science.

Here's a link to the article about the survey.

The paper of record and pronouns...

On January 3rd, the NY Times published an article about the US Evangelical's role in the new Ugandan law that establishes the death penalty for homosexual behavior. Overall the article was interesting, but I had some problems with how they dealt with two folks that are transgender.

here's a link to the article:

US Evangelical's Seen in Ugandan Anti-Gay Push

And here's the letter, I just wrote the NYT in response:

In the explanation under a photo of Nikki Mawanda on the website at 10:55 am 1/4/10, he was referred to as "born female but lives as a 'trans-man' "

That description is incorrect. Trans-man should not have quotation marks (in fact in Websters the term is transman with no hyphen). It is not an uncommon term, and it is how he defines his gender. Quotation marks would not be placed around how he identifies his ethnicity, his political affiliation or just about anything else. By putting quotation marks around the term he uses to define his gender, it sets the term off and implies it is a slang term. Which it is not.

Later in the article Stosh Mugisha was referred to as she, even though the information under the photo of Mugisha stated that "Stosh Mugisha is going through transition to become a man". It is likely, this person would prefer the pronoun he and/or no pronouns at all. Was she the pronoun that Mugisha stated as their pronoun of preference? Or was the question never asked?

In the stylebook supplement put together by the NLGJA, transgendered terms are addressed:

transgender (adj.): An umbrella term that refers to people whose biological and gender identity or expression may not be the same. This can but does not necessarily include preoperative, postoperative or nonoperative transsexuals, female and male cross-dressers, drag queens or kings, female or male impersonators, and intersex individuals. When writing about a transgender person, use the name and personal pronouns that are consistent with the way the individual lives publicly. When possible, ask which term the subject prefers.

As you know, words and language are very powerful, especially in terms of how people define themselves. What does the NYT stylebook say on the matter? Is this matter addressed?

Thank you

Jacq Jones

Seriously, what do we have to do to get news organizations to refer to folks by their chosen pronouns? And yes, I know that Mr. Mawanda should have been referred to as "identified female at birth", but I chose to use the stylebook from the NLGJA to back me up and they aren't there yet. Using journalists seemed a way that might actually get action

It's not rocket science.

Want to send a letter yourself? Here's the email address:

nytnews@nytimes.com

And here's a link to the NLGJA stylebook (the National Lesbian and Gay Journalist Association)

Gi-Ki Review!

So, last week(ish), I got Je Joue's new toy, the Gi-Ki in the mail.

And I have to say, other toys by Je Joue have been a bit overly fussy, perhaps shooting for greatness and ending up confusing (see the original Je Joue - remember the one that you could create patterns of vibration and play lists of vibration on your computer and down load? or today's Sasi?). But here, they went for simple and smart. And they hit the mark.

It's a vibrator, covered in silicone with multiple patterns of vibration. It has a lovely bulb at the top, perfect for g-spotting. It's rechargable (the charger attaches by magnet. which for some reason strikes me as super sexy and clean). It's waterproof.

But here's the kicker.

It bends.

In two places.

So you can adjust it to better get your (or your partner's) g-spot.

Or you can essentially have it fold in half and get clitoral and g-spot stimulation at the same time.

Kind of brilliant.

The Gi-Ki fills a unique nitch in the vibrator market. There's nothing else that does all of these things. The Gigi does brilliant g-spotting OR clitoral stimulation, but not both and not under water. The We-Vibe2 does both g-spotting and clitoral stimulation, but it's not adjustable, and you can't unfold it and use it for some good fucking (although you can - and should - wear that We-Vibe2 while you're getting fucked).

The vibration is good and would work well for most folks and has the capacity to change in intensity, although you can't change intensity within patterns.

And, at least on initial use, it was difficult for me to adjust bendy part on the fly. I needed two hands.

Keep your ears peeled - we'll be carrying this guy as soon as it's available.

It comes in black or purple. I'll probably only carry one color. And I'm leaning toward black. Any suggestions?

Michael Vick? may have served his debt, but an award for courage? hell no!

You see this girl? She used to work security for a drug house in Baltimore. When the house got busted, she was taken to the city shelter where she lived for three months, then a lovely woman took her home and fostered her. Now she lives with me. Her name is Bella Jane.

And when she came home she was fucked up. She shook all the time. She didn't know that standing on the dining room table was inappropriate behavior. She shied if I stamped my feet. She got aggressive if I yelled. And she cuddled like she was starved.

That was a bit more than a year ago. Now she has learned a lot and taught me and S more. She only shakes some of the time. She's been through two obedience classes and private training. She plays well with some dogs. Not well with others. I never yell at her. And she loves us madly.

She's a pit bull (as are the other two dogs that live with me). A pit bull that had been abused, neglected, encouraged to be aggressive, but never fought. And she was a mess.

I have a soft spot for pit bulls.

Which means I have a deep well of rage for people that torture and fight them.

Michael Vick, a QB for the Philadelphia Eagles, served 18 months in prison for running a dog fighting ring. A ring in which he personally, with his bare hands, strangled at least one dog. Others were tortured, many were killed in other non-medical ways.

He's a reasonably talented football player, so as soon as he finished serving his sentence, he was signed by the Eagles. He has since apologized for his choices and is working with the Humane Society to educate young people about the horrors of dog fighting.

Personally, I don't believe his remorse for a second. He's sorry he got caught. he;s sorry he went to jail. But really sorry for what he did? Judge for yourself:



Sam Lamantia Jr., CEO/Chairman of the Board sam@edblock.org

Want more? Contact the foundation's funders:

Harry and Jeanette Weinberg Foundation
Rachel Garbow Monroe, Chief Operating Officer
Phone: 410-654-8500, ext. 220
Email: rmonroe@hjweinberg.org

Want still more? Support the folks who are taking care of the dogs Michael Vick hurt.

Last Friday: or in which i prove once again that someone should follow me with a video camera

How was your Friday?

Oh, was someone asking me that?

Because last Friday pretty much sucked. I mean it could have be worse. I've definitely had worse. But, let's just say it could be better.

That's Minnesotan for, "RUN FOR THE HILLS!!!!!"

It started Thursday.

I work from home on Thursdays. This is supposed to ensure that I get all that pesky paper work done. Uh huh. It does usually mean the web site gets updated and email gets answered. But I also have yoga on Thursdays, so I left the house (this was the mistake), went to yoga, went to the store, ordered some stuff, and went back home. I was gone for, oh, about 3.5 hours. Not much time, right?

When I opened the door, fresh with plans to eat my burrito, get started on some long postponed stuff and meet with the guy about our roof, only to be confronted with a smell that could kill small children.

Amazingly enough, it was not poo. It was puke. Really pungeunt puke. Zach had vomitted all over his kennel, and worn a bare patch on his nose in a futile attempt to bury the extremely odifereous stuff in his blanket. Poor guy.

He then proceeded to vomit about every ten minutes.

I would like you to know that I still managed to eat my burrito. In between cleaning the most awful puke I've ever encountered and calling the vet. The little guy was getting dehydrated.

In the mean time, helicopters were circling overhead. When the roof guy showed up he said streets were closed everywhere. I wondered about that for a minute, looked at the roof with the roof guy, threw Zach in the car and ran off to the vet.

IV fluids and a shot later we were back home and he was doing better. And the puking had miraculously stopped.

So, the rest of the evening was spent keeping a close eye on Puke Boy, and withholding food from both him and Piper. The vet's best guess was that we were dealing with doggie stomach flu. Bella had been sick earlier in the week, so it made sense to me that Piper was next.

It was around then, that I heard that a blizzard was expected. For Saturday. You know, the biggest retail shopping day of the year? Yep. That day. I grumbled and stomped and fed myself some wine. And went to bed.

Piper woke up puking in the middle of the night. But, she had nothing to throw up. Put one in the win column for the Jones/Z household! Good catch.

We were up early, cooking rice, baking chicken, walking dogs, tidying the house and retrieving the snow shovel from the garage. When I got an idea in my head. This should have been accompanied with blinking lights and sirens.

In our back yard we have a sweet little fountain. S and I had been meaning to dump it out and wrestle it into the garage, but she's been working out of town and we just hadn't gotten to it on one of her weekends home. She was coming home, but she had contracted the creeping crud and was coughing up small children and I knew she was going to think she needed to tackle the fountain before the blizzard. I decided to cut this off at the pass. I would take care of it before she got home!

So there I was in the back yard, wearing flannel sock monkey pajamas, red shiny shoes, a black parka and one of those fleece Raven's hats that always kind of look elvin and pointy no matter what. With a pick ax. There was some ice in the damn thing and I needed to get it out before I flipped the base over.

I pick axed out the ice, everything was going well, removed the main part of the fountain, and crouched down to lift and dump. The base of the fountain is heavy as shit. I'm reasonably strong, but it was extra heavy because of the ice. I got it mostly dumped. Then I decided to go for the flip. Just a little bit more umph would do it. And I'd be the best partner EVER. So I pushed with my legs.

And my red shiny shoes slipped on the frost. I dropped the fountain and landed in it. On my face, my nose making direct, hard contact with the pokey end of the fountain pump.

Then I was sitting in a lump of sock monkey pajamas sobbing with blood running out my nose. And all I was thinking was, "God damnit, my nose was already big enough!" Followed by a lot of feeling sorry for myself. And stupid. So I hiccupped and shuffled my way into the house, where Zach stared at me with that special, slightly bug eyed pit bull stare as I put the leftover frozen corn on my face and tried to arrange the corn so that I could watch the soothing patter of a West Wing re-run.

A bit later after I had showered, and reassured myself that my nose had not acquired a new direction, I took off to work, with both Piper and Zach in the car (see aforementioned puke fest). I shortly discovered that Zach was not ready to work in the store yet. Too much happening that scared him, so, after spending enough puke free time in the car that i was reasonably certain he wasn't going to repeat the previous day's kennel experience, back home he went.

By then I was a bit tired.

And overwhelmed.

And sore.

But we had some really lovely customers. And sold a lot of stuff.

I ended the day with a 9:15 pm trip to the grocery store for blizzard provisions.

And settled in with S for a long winter's night.

The black eyes were very, very minor by the way. More a suggestion of black eyes. S decided it was fun to call me Rickey.

She was right. That was fun. But I don't think I'm going to miss them.