Reflections On Safewords and Enthusiastic Consent

So, QuizzicalPussy posted a fantastic reflection on rapists and consent, and enthusiastic consent is a topic that has been on my mind, lately, given my new position on top of the world.  (Okay, just on top of the slutling.)

Something that has contributed to my hesitation as a dominant figure in play has been the concern that I will take things too far.  As I was laying slutling down for the first time in preparation for play, I made sure that we set up a safeword.  I actually began by asking him to come up with it, because it would be a word he’d never say in bed.  He was drawing a bit of a blank, so I suggested “Bananaphone.”  It’s my go-to safeword, spawned from a joke, but totally practical, in my mind.  When playing with my roommate, I told her, “The safeword is bananaphone,” and I don’t think she took me seriously.  I’m a fan of bananaphone because… come on.  Tell me it doesn’t make you laugh.  In my mind, it eases the tension.  However, it probably isn’t everyone’s style, because some people probably like their bedroom to be a serious place.  I feel safe and secure if I can laugh, so it suits me.  If my slutling comes up with a safeword that’s more suitable for him, then I’ll heed that, but until that time comes, bananaphone it is.

As a top dealing with a new bottom, I try to take my slutling to places he’s never been, but I try to go slowly and remind him that we can quit or change things at any time.  I don’t want to do things without his consent, so sometimes I probably seem very redundant when I’m reminding him that we can stop, or I can change something.  Right now, we haven’t come up with specific words to coordinate with the “traffic light” system, and so when he says the safeword, I stop everything I’m doing, ask him what he needs me to change (or avoid), and ask him if he wants to continue.

The reason the safeword issue really came to the front of my mind while reading about consent is because, while I’ll at least ask about a safeword or suggest one for my bottoms, no one has ever done me the same courtesy.


Every time I have played the bottom, no one has asked me if there’s a specific word that I’d like to use to indicate that I needed them to stop, or back off.  In fact, I can’t remember anyone ever asking me what my hard limits are before playing with me.  Sure, in some circumstances, they’ve come up before.  I’d probably given my best friend the, “There are very few kinks I don’t have, and some of them are x, y, and z,” speech at some point before our sex life started getting kinky.  I have also never played with someone who directly asked me what I hoped to get out of the sexual encounter that I was about to participate in.  I’ve never been offered the chance to say, “So, in agreeing to hook up with you, I’m definitely consenting to some kissing, some biting, manual stimulation, and some protected oral sex, but I do not want to have vaginal intercourse.”

I’m just going to put it out there: that strikes me as being a little fucked up.

I think spontaneity is fun and sexy.  I have had long-term partners that I was always down to do any kind of playing with, or that would respect my decision if I said, “Let me suck you off instead of letting you fuck me,” so I didn’t feel the need to “negotiate” the kind of sex we were going to have beforehand… but that doesn’t mean that everyone in a long-term relationship is always 100% DTF (down to fuck, for those of you who have slept through Pop Culture Acronyms 101).  Meanwhile, I do know people who have been in relationships and have been sexually violated by their partners, not always through complete force, but sometimes just because their partner went much further than they wanted to at the time, and may not have heeded a response that was along the lines of, “I don’t want to do this right now.”

The bulk of responsibility doesn’t always belong to your partner, either.  I’m not attempting to victim-blame anyone, but some of the responsibility to bring up the limits of your consent can’t always lie with your partner.  Be your own advocate.  If you’re planning a hook-up, talk about what you expect beforehand.  It’s easy to change your plans in the middle of things if you want to add some things on, but it’s hard to take things off the menu when you didn’t even know they were being cooked up in the first place.

I’m not entirely sure why I never bothered to address the point of safewords with my play partners.  I haven’t had many who were kinky, and a partner has to earn a large degree of trust before I’ll consider engaging in any of the edge play that I treasure so dearly.  It wasn’t necessarily a smart oversight on my part, and I’m fortunate that it hasn’t screwed me over.  The partners that I have allowed to choke me have generally heeded my “tap out” system without negotiation beforehand, but as I’ve said before – I haven’t had many kinky partners.  The mistake I made was thinking that being the submissive partner meant that the person in charge should address safety concerns, and otherwise, I assumed they were on the level.

I encourage you all to negotiate the activities you consent to, and a “safeword” or light system before you start playing with someone.

With that said, it doesn’t always work out.

The only random hook-up that I had (with As Long As You’re Clean guy) had some vague negotiation prior.  While we never addressed safewords, we did, through casual flirting and storytelling, establish a vague outline of what we expected from our encounter.  We also negotiated the issue of prophylactics, and I told him he wasn’t getting anywhere with me unless there was a condom involved.

This part of the negotiation was pointless.

Yet another place where I should have been proactive was making sure that he wore the condom I provided… because he didn’t.  Not initially, at least.  When I sat up and realized he was barebacking me, I should have made him take me home that instant.  Instead, I gloved him up and we finished, and then he took me home, and I never contacted him again.

It didn’t sit well with me, and I felt absurd for being upset about it.  My feelings were valid, though, because he did something I didn’t specifically consent to and it left me with a bad taste in my mouth.  I did consent to intercourse, but I didn’t consent to unprotected intercourse.  It was a substantial violation of trust, and waiting for my period (as well as getting tested for STIs) after the encounter was nerve-wracking.  I was fortunate to find that I was neither pregnant nor infected, but it certainly has made me a much more cautious person about how I navigate the process of having sex with other people.

I guess the bottom line of this post is that you can’t wait for someone else to be proactive about taking care of you.  You have to ask for the things you need, instead of hoping your partner will bring it up at some point, or assuming that they’re informed about consent and safety procedures.  Talk to your partners about safewords to use when your sexual activity is getting too rough, approaching your limits, or when you need them to proceed with caution.  Negotiate what you’re interested in doing during a sexual encounter ahead of time so that a misunderstanding might not ruin the fun.  None of these things can completely protect someone from unpleasant experiences, but anything that can potentially help avoid unpleasant situations is worth doing.

Switch-y Sugarcunt & Her Slutling (30DoK)

So the 30 Days of Kink is one of those 30 day prompts that has been making its rounds, theoretically originating on the Queerkink Tumblr, but being heftily linked to a post about it on Insatiable Desire.  There’s a huge list of other bloggers who are participating on the Insatiable Desire page about it, and I’m one of those bandwagon-jumping “nonconformists,” so you know I have to do it.  After all, don’t I need something to fill the void in my blog while I’m formulating reviews about how I’m filling the void in my pants?

I’ll stick them all behind read more tags so long, drawn-out posts that come from prompts don’t clutter up my blog’s front page, but this is basically going to be a regular thing for me.

Day 1: Dom, sub, switch?  What parts of BDSM interest you?  Give us an interesting in-depth definition of what that means to you. Basically define your kinky self for us.


The Crystal Causes Fundraiser & Giveaway


Crystal Delights is a company that makes absolutely gorgeous toys, such as the Epiphany Wand and (my personal favorite) the Crystal Frost anal plug, shown here in lavender.  (As a note, this photo came from the Crystal Delights page, because I don’t have the fortune to own one of their beautiful toys yet.)

The latest thing that Crystal Delights has been up to that’s been catching attention in the world of sex toy enthusiasts is the Crystal Causes fundraiser, where Crystal Delights has teamed up with Boy Butter, Just In Case, Devine Toys, RubyGlass 21, Papaya Toys, Thinking Of You (TOY), LELO, Steele Malone, Axovus Leather, Duncan Charles Designs, Kink Academy, My Hardware, Sex Blogger Calendar, Whore! Magazine, Cerebral Itch, Virtually About and Tied Up Events.  All of these companies have contributed to the giveaway prizes, which are 12 gift baskets that are worth over $1,000.

The real focus of the Crystal Causes fundraiser is actually the charities involved.  The primary method of entering the giveaway portion of the fundraiser is to contribute to the fundraising part!  (Imagine that.)

By donating to one (or multiple, or all) of these charities on the Crystal Delights page, you’ll be entered to win a gift basket!  A person will be selected from the list of donators to each charity and there will be a basket winner from each list.

That sounds a little convoluted.  Let me explain with an example: If I choose to donate to SAGE and AIC, I will be entered win two gift baskets – I could win one because my name was randomly chosen from the list of donators to SAGE, and if I didn’t win that one, I could be picked from the list of people who donated to AIC.

My explanation probably isn’t getting much clearer.  It would probably make more sense if you read the How To Enter page!

The charities you can donate to are listed below:

Services & Advocacy for GLBT Elders (SAGE)

Center for Sex and Culture (CSC)

Helping Individual Prostitutes Survive (HIPS)

Advocates for Informed Choice (AIC)

Center for Sexual Pleasure and Health (CSPH)

Jiz Lee’s Karma Pervs

St. James Infirmary

All of these are extremely worthy charities, and I wish I had a considerably larger amount of money to contribute to all of them.  However, what I do have is a blog, so I can urge all of you to go forth and contribute some of what I can’t!

Seriously, guys.  I realize that I have like next to zero unique visitors on a regular basis, but someone is reading this, so check out the Crystal Causes fundraiser.  You’ll find a link to a handy-dandy list of all the neat stuff in those gift baskets if you check out the page.  If you’re as cheap as me, there are also a few non-monetary ways to enter, as well, so you really don’t have much of an excuse not to look!

First Gender Celebration Carnival Round-Up

The first gender celebration carnival went fantastically!  I’d like to thank Lumpesse (again) for organizing it and coming up with the fabulous idea.  Everyone who participated wrote AMAZING posts, some of which have sparked discussions that are still going on!  I’m really excited about having been a part of this, and I anticipate participating in the next carnival, as well!  It would be fantastic if more people participated.  Check out Lumpesse’s blog to learn more. 

Links to all the posts:

NeamhspleachasWhat Makes Gender

Dangerous LillyLabels – Being Politically Correct and Queerly Correct

SugarcuntGender Anarchy and Gender Equality

Curvaceous DeeWhat Makes Me A Woman

Sexpert Jane BlowAre My Nipples Getting the Correct Signals

Sinclair SexsmithLiving Gender

Ellie Lumpesse – My Take On Masculinity

In Defense of the Virgin Lover

The initial courtship is slow.  We flirt so often that I find myself unsure as to whether my intentions are coming across or not.  We hold hands as though we’re pre-adolescents, and when my actions finally reveal that my intentions are considerably less-than-pure, I begin by kissing his fingertip.  His brows quirk when I slide my lips down his skin, taking the finger into my mouth up to the first joint and dragging the tip of my tongue lightly along the inside of the digit.

I have been warned, time and time again by assorted parties, that I shouldn’t have sex with virgins.  One of my oldest and dearest friends warned me against it several months ago.  Another friend, when I mentioned that I was pursuing a virgin, said, “Having sex with virgins sucks.  You’ll have more fun with someone else.”

He doesn’t bother feigning confidence, initially.  He shudders with a mix of anticipation and nervousness, and it feels a bit like I’m clutching a doe.  I’m almost unsure about whether he loves or hates the thing that I’m doing to him.  He tenses up as the gentle strokes on his back turn to scratches and I sink my teeth into the sweet flesh of his shoulder.

Thousands of arguments have been made on behalf of the confident playmate.  We talk up the self-assured lover with oodles of experience.  I have seen considerably less arguments made on behalf of the shy, self-doubting virgin.  During a conversation with Omnihim (one half of my favorite deviant couple in the world of sex bloggers), he pointed out that, in having sex with someone virginal, I was giving him a much-coveted initiation into the world of sex.  I was a little baffled by this idea initially – I only know one person who had all of their first time experiences with another virgin, and the individual in question still sees that partner with rose-tinted glasses that are so thick that I’m led to believe the girl really might have a gold-plated cunt and diamond nipples.  Then I started thinking on a more grand scale.  While virgins outside the gender binary don’t exist in the public eye, and virgin women are praised for their purported “tightness” and the “innocence” that begs to be despoiled, virgin men are stigmatized.  As a person with a vagina, I can attest that we hear warnings of unwavering devotion (which can be a negative if undesired), clumsy fumbling, and general cluelessness. 

He embraces me in the dark as I lay on my back.  His fingers are as slender as his arms, and despite being inexperienced, are moving effectively across my groin,  working the wetness up toward my clit before swiftly delving back inside me – one finger, then two.  He complies when I tell him that I need him to curve his fingers up.  His teeth tug at my earlobe insistently, and his breath is hot and heavy in my ear, “Oh god, I want you…”

Many fine examples of how gender roles have shaped our society can be found in the virginity stigma.  Women that lose their virginity, enjoy sex, and are confident in their sexuality are “sluts.”  Men are “meant to be dominant and experienced,” so woe betide the virgin male.

No one talks about the benefits of having sex with someone less experienced than you.  Apparently, we’re all supposed to spring forth from the womb like Athena from Zeus’s skull, popping out as sexual mavericks with a full repertoire of mind-blowing techniques.  Where are the people singing praises about the fact that I can ask him to finger me just so without affronting his pride?  What about the fact that he acknowledges that I’m hard to get off and that he’s still exploring his technique, so he doesn’t take it personally if I don’t come?  There are so many things that I enjoy more because he’s seeing them as he causes them – the look of ecstasy I make when someone pulls my head back with a fistful of hair, the way that I shiver when lips hit that spot on my neck right below my ear.  The look on his face after he brought me to a squirting orgasm was worth all the money in my bank account.

We’re writhing against one another, covered in sweat, my hands twisting as I draw them off the head of his cock.  Between kisses, he asks me to touch his ass, and I grab it ferociously, squeezing the soft flesh and causing his back to go rigid.

In my experience, the two “virgins” (near-virgins, at the very least) that I’ve been with have been attentive, inventive, and most importantly, eager.  They have anticipated and adapted to my needs well ahead of many of their more experienced predecessors, and responded well to my requests to do something differently.  One might say, “That has to do with the person, not the person’s sexual experience.”  Yes, perhaps, but both of the virgins that I’ve been with have been people embodying those qualities.  And to be quite frank, neither of them were as fumbling and clumsy as you might think.  In fact, my now-deflowered playmate surprised me with his well-aimed bites and his dexterous hands.

I’m not saying that you need to go out and yoink someone’s “v-card.”  Regardless of how attached someone may (or may not) be to their virginity, that’s a good way to step on toes and hurt feelings.  I’m simply trying to help clear up some of the anti-virgin-male sentiment that is floating around my culture for no good reason.  If you’re interested in a person who happens to be sexually inexperienced, bear with them and give them a chance.  I write this post as an ode to the virgin men of the world.  While they may not be as widely-appreciated as they deserve, they do have a place in my heart. 
(And my vag.)

Gender Anarchy and Gender Equality

This is the fourth post in July’s Gender Celebration Carnival!  Check out the post before me, by Curvaceous Dee, and be sure to check out Jane Blow’s post that will be published on the 13th!  If you want to get in on the action, click here to find out how!

I was laying in bed with my best friend, spooning her and thinking about what to write for this prompt.  When I read Lumpesse’s announcement about the Gender Celebration Blog Carnival, I was thrilled and knew I was going to participate.  I love gender, sexuality, and sex… I just wasn’t sure what I wanted to say about them for the July carnival.  So I started thinking about our lives.

I’m female-assigned-at-birth and gender-queer.  My best friend is a male-assigned-at-birth, gender-queer trans lesbian.  I also consider her to be something similar to my “primary.”  Even though we aren’t officially in a polyamorous relationship, she tends to my non-sexual intimacy and emotional needs in exactly the way that I need her to, and in ways that I’m not entirely sure that someone else can.

When I started this post, I was just going to talk about my gender-queer identity and how it reflected in my everyday life.  It probably would have put you to sleep, or sic’d the GENDER POLICE on my ass.  I think my point can be better made by ruminating in a sort of free-form style about how we live with (and without) gender.

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[Image description: a black and white photo of two torsos from the waist to the upper thighs.  Both people in the photo are wearing women’s underwear and sport slightly noticeable bulges.  The person on the left is wearing a black thong with white polka dots and bows, and the person on the right is wearing what appears to be a pair of plain white hipster underwear.]

My birthday is in early August, but her early birthday present to me was something I was lusting after – the Sailor Soft Packer from Good Vibrations.

Both of the people in the photo above have cocks in their underwear… so which of us is the masculine one, and which is the feminine one?  Are we both men because we have cocks?

Our society tends to assign gender based on the irrelevant factor of genitalia, and we tend to judge the actions of others based on whether we perceive them as being appropriate actions for a “man” or a “woman.”  On the first day of the Gender Celebration Carnival, Lumpesse blogged about masculinity and mentioned how her father told her that dropping the f-bomb “wasn’t very ladylike.”  In our society’s view, women are emotional, incapable, soft-spoken, submissive, and meet a certain standard of appearance.  Men are protective, dominant, strong, out of touch with their emotions, and are prized for their ideas and intellect.

Do I even need to point out the flaws in those roles?  How many people do you know that actually fit them?  My father has emotions, and my mother is anything but soft-spoken.  My parents butt heads somewhat regularly because my mother is a verbal-shit-slinging, irrational, domineering figure in their household.  (I love both of my parents very much, so these words are meant to be a statement of fact rather than a verbal assault.)  Yes, my mother did fit the feminine gender role in some ways, such as her (mostly) unerring, sentimental support for the things I pursued in life: tucking away my kindergarten drawings, print-outs of my seventh grade poems about homicide, award certificates from high school, and my diploma when I got my associate’s degree.  In other ways, though, her tendency to default toward gender roles clashes with how she wants to act.  She expects my father to manage the finances because men deal with the money, then she’ll get impatient and take control of them herself, or she’ll spend with no regard for the money they may or may not have.  Despite their tendencies toward the gender roles they were socialized into, they fight because, even though they both were raised to believe that my father should be in control because he has testicles, my mother can’t abide by that.  They’re losing their minds because even though they think they should, they don’t live in accordance with our society’s gender roles. 

Neither do I.

I prefer to live in “gender anarchy,” which is a radical-sounding term that I use to state my ideas toward gender because 1) it’s a decent summary of them, and 2) the part of me that is still 13 thinks it sounds badass.

My best friend and I live together as equals.  We do what we’re good at, and we do those things when we feel like doing them.  I carry heavy things (within my range) because I’m “super-butch.”  We nurture one another based on who needs it, not based on some absurd dogma; “I have a dick, I’ll protect you.  You have a vagina, so you be supportive and understanding.”  If anything, I’m more protective of her, and she’s more understanding of me.  Sometimes she’s the little spoon, and sometimes she’s the big spoon.  We divide chores evenly.

The point of this is not to brag, “Oh, gender-queers do it better,” or to be like, “LOL MY LIFE IS AWESOME BECAUSE I’M QUEER,” (on the contrary – my life is awesome because I’m awesome).  The point of this isn’t to attempt to define “gender-queer” or masculinity or femininity, or to tell you which you should lean toward.  The point of this is to make the case for living in a state of gender equality.  Sociological research proves that happier relationships are based on equality, rather than the enforcement of gender roles… because let’s just be honest: they’re based on the assumption of superiority because of genitalia.  There is no real science to the idea that a husband should dominate the household, or that a wife should care for the children 24-7.  I can understand how things developed that way in the past, but every century brings about new change, and as far as gender roles are concerned, the time for radical change is now.  How many couples will continue to suffer because they struggle to uphold the gender ideals that they were bred into, even though they don’t always fit?

My life with my best friend, who I consider my 24-7 “partner,” is built around equality.  Our genital configuration plays no role in whether we are emotional or detached, dominant or submissive, or the things we have an interest in.  Because we don’t assign these things, we’re free to express ourselves with the fluidity that all human beings crave.  As our moods and desires fluctuate, we can pursue them on our own whims.  She has a penis, and sometimes she’s the dominant partner, supporting and nurturing me, making decisions for us, and guiding me to my destination.  But other times, more often than not, I’m the dominant partner, and she’s my baby-girl.  I protect her, guide her, and boss her around.  We can express however we please without freaking the other out – she’ll pass me my dick, and I’ll dig her tits out of a pile of clothes for her.  I can be as sexually aggressive as I please, and she can be as disinterested in sex as she feels, because she knows that I don’t expect her to “take  the man’s role” and turn a kiss into a sexual encounter.  Our roles in the relationship are fluid.  These decisions have nothing to do with either of us being dominant or submissive (because in the bedroom, we can both switch, but do seem to have leanings, and they’re exactly the opposite of the roles we assume the most in real life), and nothing to do with our genitals.

It’s the freedom to be people, independent of gender.

No dogma.  No expectations.

Gender anarchy.

How do you think being socialized into a gender role has had an effect on your life?  Would you consider living in “gender anarchy?”

Getting My Jollies

I’m just going to preface this entry by showing you the notes I jotted down about this thing when I started drafting:




4) It’s 100% medical grade silicone, so while that means it’s awesome for putting in my electric kettle, it won’t have anything to do with my bottle of Wet Platinum.  Because of the shape, it won’t have anything to do with my vagina.   But because of the material, it does as much as it can with every fuzzy, dust and hair-related particle in my room.  But that’s actually not so bad, because I can just pop this sucker back in my kettle and boil it before I get down with myself.

5) Can’t really feel handle ridges

So those were my first impressions of it… and no, I don’t generally write my notes in allcaps, if that tells you anything.

I’ll explain each of these, obviously.  And then I’m going to tell you why it’s my new favorite toy.

The Jollie [Image description: A pink dildo sits on a white background.  The dildo is relatively phallic, with a bulbous bump near the head of the toy.  A protruding, handle-like piece is positioned at the bottom of the toy, complete with a hole that would be ideal as a fingerhold.]

1)  I tend to do a lot of research before purchasing toys.  When Epiphora mentioned that Jollies was going out of business and that JT’s Stockroom still had the Valentine’s Jollie, I spent a good ten or fifteen minutes chewing my nails and reading several reviews that she linked to determine whether I wanted to spend this money before the Jollie went off the market forever.  There were some warnings posted, and the Stockroom site even offers dimensions for the product, but I’m totally inept at putting those numbers to a visual.  The only time I felt like I really saw the Jollie at proper scale was in the Wanton Lotus video review of it… and I promptly cried, “It’s HUGE… I have to buy it!”  I’m not a size queen.  In fact, I have spent the vast majority of my life being the opposite of a size queen, because my sex with Ex generally always resulted in some spotting afterward.  (His girth wasn’t the only reason, but it was a significant contributing factor.)  But this dildo was a really cool idea, and it was going off the market, and I was seduced by the idea that I would have something that no one else could get soon.  (I’m petty, sue me.)

So the Jollie came, and despite the videos and the warnings, I took it out of the box and I was like, “WHAT?”  Like I said, it’s pretty beastly.  If you check out the photo on my preview post, you will find that its girth dwarfs pretty much every other toy there.  The only adjective I could think of for the shape in my image description was “misshapen,” which is a considerably less-than-stellar word to use when you’re talking about a toy that you actually like.  You will find that this fucked-up shape is actually what passes as “ergonomic” in the world of things that you stick in your vagina.  That’s right – the word ergonomic is no longer limited to office supplies.  I would like to think of the Jollie as the Quasimodo of my toy collection.  Rest assured, the comparison is warranted, because I can tell you right now that when I die, my skeleton will be found entwined with this thing.

2) My first attempt at fucking myself with the Jollie was somewhat less-than-stellar.  I tried to insert it while I was chilling out in my desk chair.  But here’s the thing… I have this bad habit of ejecting my tampons when I sneeze.  Without any sneezing necessary, my vagina forcefully expelled this thing as if it were a tampon.  The g-spot bump did absolutely nothing to keep it inside me.  The Jollie was an expansive foreign body, and my twat wanted it out.

3)  While pondering over why the Jollie wouldn’t peacefully occupy my vag, I briefly speculated that maybe I had too much lubricant.  Bullshit!  There’s no such thing as too much lubricant!  Besides, every time I ejected it, it was practically dry.  The third time I had expelled it after coating it up with yet another layer of water-based lube, I began to wonder if more drastic measures were in order.  Virgin sacrifice?

4 & 5)  That’s self-explanatory, right?

Now I’m going to tell you why I’m so happy about owning the Jollie:

I had a literally hands-free orgasm in less than ten minutes.



So I have a lot of crap on my plate right now, hence why I haven’t put out a toy review in forever and a day… but here’s a photo of some of the toys with reviews that I’m working on.

The Sailor2 soft packer, the Fun Factory Bootie, the Pipedreams Fetish Fantasy Ball Gag, the Jollies Jollie, the nJoy Pure Wand, LELO Luna Beads, the Glass Gems Diamond, the Glass Gems Andalusite, and the Tantus Acute.

For an image description, hit the “continue reading” tag below.

Also upcoming: Reviews for the Tyler Hope Love Bear Toy Storage, the Liberator Throe, a 7-piece neoprene restraint kit that was sold by Trinity Vibes  (although I think it’s manufactured by some division of Kink Industries… unfortunately, I didn’t keep the box, and now I can’t figure that out to save my life), and the 30 Days of Kink prompt.


Gender Celebration Blog Carnival

Something I’m looking forward in participating in during the upcoming months is Ellie Lumpesse’s Gender Celebration Blog Carnival.

In Ellie’s words:

The carnival is about reflecting on gender, questioning it, doing the hard work of grappling with it but also experiencing the joy of celebrating it. Does everything we say have to be all sunshine and puppydog tails? Absolutely not! Celebrations often include intense conflict, debate, and even mourning. This one will be no different. However, my hope is that when we take the time to think, write, and converse about gender we’ll bring good things into the world. We’ll shed light on the beauty of the human family and we’ll all become closer.

It is with that hope in my heart that I am humbly requesting submissions for the first (hopefully of many) Gender Celebration Blog Carnival.

The concept is simple. A group of bloggers all agree to post on the theme of the Carnival during a particular period of time and they link to the posts that transpired at the  end of the Carnival. What happens in the middle is the real magic as we will hopefully have fascinating things to read and great conversations to share on the issues that are generated. Think of it like a two week, virtual cocktail party with a fabulous guest list.

The upcoming theme for July is going to be “Living Gender,” and I’m completely psyched about it.  Anyone interested should give the submission page a look!

Blurb #1

That awkward moment when you have to remove your sex toys from your electric pitcher because you want to boil water that’s actually going to go in your mouth.