Orgasm in Translation

We've gone pink...and German!

The Orgasm and The Brain

Barry Komisaruk, a neuroscientist at Rutgers, is studying orgasm in the hopes of finding the roots of human consciousness. He selects women to orgasm in fMRI machines so that he can see what's going on in their brains. I volunteered to be a participant in one such study. The Pleasure Lab is what resulted. Enjoy!

Happy Anniversary

Today is the 1st anniversary of the publishing of Thanks for Coming. Thanks for all the reading, supporting and orgasm awareness.

They grow up so fast. It seems like just a couple months ago that TFC was a clean-shaven broad.

Mara Altman is currently working on her second book - a novel - which is due out when Procrastination Junction meets the end of Vibrator Battery Life Avenue.

Kalanchoe's Addiction

I received my succulents via mail last friday (thanks, Mom!). But a big surprise happened when I opened the box. I'd unintentionally picked out a smoker.

Kalanchoe luciae aka Flapjacks McGee huffs on the things as if they were soil laced with a heavy dosage of sunshine. I'm trying to help her quit. I told her that the nicotine was an inferior substitute for what she really craved: Propagation.

I'm yet to convince her. She thinks she looks groovy (succulents prefer 'groovy' to 'rad' or 'awesome') with the cigarette hanging off her leaf and she swears that it makes her roots tingle like no form of nitrogen enriched substrate or commercially produced fertilizer has ever done. I told her it was the tingle of gangrene. Then she cursed me for anthropomorphizing her.

As for now, I'm hoping she doesn't spread her bad habit to her sill companions. I'm planning on buying her the patch. She didn't do well with the gum; she couldn't absorb carbon dioxide and chew at the same time. When I threatened to withhold water, she just laughed and chanted "I'm drought tolerant, bitch!"

Pussy Doldrums

Yes, you heard it. I'm kinda sick of pussy. Okay, not sick of pussy, but sick of writing about it... for the moment. I just need a twattle break.

You know how it is when you say any word over and over again really fast it starts to not even sound like the thing or action it refers to. It just sounds like a string of sounds, a string so long that you could double Dutch with it and still have some leftover to tie up a pork loin and floss your teeth. That's what pussy sounds like to me right now.

I want to expand the topics on this blog, because there are no rules here (and I don't want to think of flossing my teeth when I think of pussy). If there are no rules, I don't know why I feel the need to explain myself, but I do. So I will, because there are no rules.

I might end up writing about my newfound love for succulents, which my family (parents and two brothers) grow for a living and I thought I'd always loathed. It actually turns out that I didn't like that weird words like Pachyphytum oviferum and Glottiphyllum linguiforme received more attention than the neato smiley faces I'd form from my pasta. Now I am beginning to appreciate those words and the plants they refer to (some succulents can live more than four years without water and have root systems that look similar to a potato. Come on, that's crazy!) Just look at them in the upper left hand corner. If flowers could have online personalities, I wouldn't be surprised if they'd appoint succulents as their avatars (and I mean flower in a purely flower way; no vulva insinuation).

I also might write about eating, dancing, music, tropical fish, how my landlady kicked me out of my apartment today, pizza making and my long quest to make the hem of my pants (which are always too long) molded to the right length via the interminable dragging of the extra five inches on New York's crusty streets. I will not pay to get them hemmed. It's just wrong and unjust, like not legalizing gay marriage. I was born this way.

After all that talk not about pussy, I kind of miss talking about pussy.

'pussy'

okay, I'm over it again.