Entries Tagged 'Ask the audience' ↓

If I haven’t given you enough reasons before in reading this blog to go, “oh, come on, there’s always something, isn’t there?” here’s another one:

I’m hyper-orgasmic. Always.

As in damn, girl, you’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t stop. As in, start to finish in under two minutes, twice. As in, an average evening with average foreplay and average sex equals at least five toe-curlers. As in, blessed.

This is part of the reason why I was a bit ambivalent when Eden Fantasys contacted me in the winter to do a review. I’ve never used a sex toy. I’ve never engaged in much creative play that required props. I’ve never even considered using anything with the term adult toy attached to it, because I’ve never had to.

Then there was the selection. I couldn’t choose. There were so many varieties of things designed to get us off, that I was completely confused as to where to even start. Especially when I considered 45 seconds of kegel exercises on par.

What? You didn’t learn when you were 14, doing leg raises in weight training class, that doing a kegel clench at the same time as abdominal flexing brought about a familiar feeling? Sucks to be you.

I kid. Sort of.

Really, it kind of sucks to be me. There’s been many a time when I wished I could just turn it off. There’s a few piercings I’ve have loved to consider over the years that I know aren’t realistic. And I’ve had some crappy lays who thought they were gods, sent from the land of all that is hip swivelling holy.

I’ve been thinking. Maybe I want to look into tantric sex. Maybe I want to discover exactly how to stop it from working so well. Maybe I just need to stop having sex and start having a little more me time.

That’s the other factor. Once I started getting naked with other people, I pretty much stopped ever getting down with myself. It was always…there and if it wasn’t, there was a good chance that I was still recovering from the last time it was.

I have a heart condition, you know.

Anyway. 2009 is all about me. It’s about jumping off of cliffs (socializing with actual people in the real world and speaking at conferences ring a bell?), it’s about doing the opposite of what I’ve normally, ever so comfortably done. Because comfortable makes me antsy. The usual isn’t what I’m looking for. I want some fucking fireworks.

And this is where you come in. No pun intended, because this is not that kind of invitation.

I’m taking the plunge. Because it’s something that kind of scared me a little, at least made me nervous enough to cop out of a review and offer up a contest, instead: I’m going to try it. I’m going to receive a package in the mail and guess what? You get to pick what’s going to be in the package.

I’m going to tell you how it went – likely with too much description, like everything I write. And then, I’m going to do it again. And again. And over and over. Every month. (don’t you hate me, now?)

So, people. I know, so many of you aren’t virgins to the ceramic, silicone and glass. But I am. Be gentle (but not too much so), check out their selection of vibrators, dildos, playtime accessories, etc. etc., and hit me with your best suggestion for what bad boy should pop my wanking 2.0 cherry. And, I may, just possibly have a volunteer of the male persuasion to come out and play, so, um, keep that in mind. (No. I’m not naming names. Nice try.)

I’m taking your comments until the end of the weekend – that’s Sunday, April 26th at 11:59pm PST. The toy that gets the most suggestions will be the one I’m asking for in my mother’s day stockings.

By the way, have you checked out their new online magazine? I’m teaming up with Eden Fantasys to help promote seXis, an foray into the open, destigmatized, dirty, natural, consentual and humorous world of fornicating – solo or not. There’s how-tos and how-to-nots. Some of our favourite bloggers are even dropping some narrative down on those pages. I laughed out loud at articles like The 25 Hallmarks of Bad Cunnilingus and I nodded emphatically whilst reviewing the history of papparazzi obsession with celebrity sexuality. It seems like one of those things I’m just going to love reading, every issue. You might, too. Check it out, if you dare.

Tomorrow, I’m expecting a phone call. During this call, if I can convince Isobel to watch a show and not yell about taking ownership over the conversation, I’ll be interviewed by a reporter for the Georgia Strait. This is a big fucking deal to me.

She was looking for people with mental illness experience – you know I’ve got a little bit of that, right? *wink* So it seems that I might be her gal, at least for an hour. How did I end up signing up for this?

I’m going to be speaking at a conference here in Vancouver, Mental Health Camp. The purpose of this all-day event on Saturday, April 25th is to explore the complex relationship between social media and mental health, be it in relation to blogging, using Twitter, healing others or becoming healthy – about reducing stigma via various two-way methodology on the Internetz.

My topic is an obvious (if you’ve been here for a little while) one: mommy blogging and mental illness. I’ll be discussing the social interpretation of mommy bloggers and how reputations can precede us. About how being known as one with a mental illness and a mommy blogger can get hackles raised, CPS called and how that can effect change in our lives. Or in my case, not.

I started blogging, and continue to do, so for mostly selfish reasons – I get to vent all over your screen and whether you want to or not, or even if you weren’t here, I feel support. As a result of this, from my hands-on candidness and boldness in relating both mine and Isobel’s angst, I’ve gained friends made of gold, stayed up late at night when someone’s heart or head was ailing, and I’ve gotten to know myself (and the world around me) much better.

This blogging schtick, even at its lowest points, even in its ugliest moments, even when visions were painted clearly that made you (and me) wince, is working for me. I do it, because even if it doesn’t seem like it, I get a little temporary healing from each word, post, comment, email, tweet, virtual (and real) hug, and on and on. It helps me.

Apparently, there’s a reason some of you do it, too. Some of you out there are also bold and honest about your own struggles with sanity. Some of you mommies are not picture perfect in Manolos, pearls and the newest Juicy lipgloss. Some of you have also blogged about your medication, suicide attempt, PPD, depression, ADD, eating disorder, social anxiety, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, etc.

You are who I want to talk about at this conference. If you’re going to be in the Vancouver area on the 25th, please consider attending, but even if you’re not, or you have other plans, or you just aren’t that big a fan of Gastown, please consider this:

Part of my talk at Mental Health Camp will focus on mommy bloggers, yes. But not so vaguely. Part of my babbling will mention you, how you blog, about what, why, where, etc. I want to know who you are, out there, the ones that choose to do like I do – let it bleed it on the page.

Please leave me a comment with a link to your post on your mommy blog relating your own issue, struggle, purpose and M.O. about your mental health – I want to discuss in 10 days what, as a community, we’ve done to virtually erase the stigma of moms with mental issues, and use you as an example of what change can look like.

Alternatively, you can email me at mommy is moody {at} gmail {dot} com. If you know that I’m already familiar with you and you don’t want to be referenced, please do let me know that, too.

One more request: can you please pass this on? I know there’s a lot of ladies out there who deserve to have their backs patted for spotlighting the elephant in the room. Stumble, Digg, Tweet, share in your readers, email the link, Facebook it – please help me get the word out.

I want to mention how awesome you are.