All that VaJazz

Bertie: "It's a small world, Jeeves."

Jeeves: "Yes, Sir."

Bertie: "I don't know when I've seen a smaller."

Jeeves in the Morning by PG Wodehouse

As I looked at the photos of a beautiful woman having crystals daintily placed on her bikini area I thought “Wait…I know her…”

The story (click for the pics) was "I got Vajazzled (and had a camera crew)" on The Luxury Spot, and had been sent to me by another friend as a blog topic suggestion. When I went to Fairvilla this evening and one of my pals there hadn’t heard of it before I figured it had to be the cutting edge of cool: I never ever have one on the people at Fairvilla.

Vajazzling is the Swarovski crystal jewelling of one’s vagina - well, technically of one’s mons. It’s a bit like body jewels but far more posh and far more intimate. I’d seen Jennifer Love Hewitt talked about it and then, low and behold, there was someone I knew having it done on The Luxury Spot. It wasn’t the cooch that gave it away, but the name: Bryce. Bryce Gruber is a Luxury Spot writer who I had the pleasure of meeting online when she interviewed me for a piece on nudism a few months back. She was sent by Spa Week Daily to have her vajazzling (a mix of vagina and Bedazzler) done at the Completely Bare Day Spa in NYC (if you are or will be in NY April 12-18 during Spa Week check out the piece for specials). The video of her adventure is below and not only are the results uniquely lovely but she’s amazingly poised for someone having her private parts decorated on camera.

“Vajazzling was easy peasy,” she told me in an email. The whole process, including the wax took only 45 minutes. Since she’s wearing jeans in the video I wondered if she could feel the crystals when she put her clothes back on.

“You can’t even feel the crystals once they're on,” she said. “If I didn’t have every major media source publishing pics of my crotch, I would've forgotten about it by now!

That’s a tweet if ever there was one.

The vajazzling looks very delicate and elegant and is certainly a striking new trick to have up your proverbial sleeve to surprise someone with. Check out Bryce’s video below as well as the story linked above for additional info.

Shine on!

Toy Talk: Good Vibes in Spain

       A couple of weeks ago a popular club in Valencia, Spain came up with the best promotion since horror director William Castle stationed ambulances outside the theaters showing his films. Cuomo gave out free vibrators to the first 400 women that paid the $10 Euro cover charge (about $13 US) to get (8 if you had a flyer) and could show they were 20 years old. They called the free prizes “consolers.”

       I’m not the boozehound I was once, the girl who coordinated both her nail polish and her clothing to whatever she was drinking that night (looks good; hides spillage) but I would have slapped on some eyelashes and gone out for this. Sure, you could pony up $13 and get an inexpensive vibrator without going to a club but then you’d miss tipsy ladies sharing their thoughts about sex toys – two glasses of pinot and there’s not much a girl won’t scream over the house music. And the idea of calling them ‘consolers’ is clever, though I’m not sure about the implication, which is obviously that if you didn’t hook up as you expected to this would be your consolation prize. My guess is at least a few women didn’t wait to find out.

       Vibrators aren’t any substitute for men but having them handed out as an alternative to a boozy bar hookup is  brilliant idea. I have never ever heard of a woman waking up, looking up her vibrator and thinking “Oh, Christ! What the hell have I done?”, having to take that horrible trip to the drug store or clinic, or obsessing over the fact that her vibrator never called her again when it wasn’t a good enough her to begin with.

       The foresight and wisdom of Cuomo makes me wonder: why don’t they sell vibrators in bars? If they can have condom vending machines in the bathroom surely they can have vibrator vending machines as well, like this big fuschia beauty from Tabooboo a British company that sells vending machine vibes all over the world for about $9. Call it the Orgo-mat. Or just sell them from behind the bar or via the restroom attendant. If they can supply you with everything from perfume to gum surely they can keep a few Pocket Rockets handy.

       This could be the healthiest idea to come to bars since smoking bans. Not that every boozy hookup is sloppy or unsafe but if ‘consolers’ could make a woman reconsider something that might not be in her best interest – and it good business to boot– it sure couldn’t hurt.

       Putting the condom rack next to the beer cooler in the grocery store might not be a bad idea, either. 

PIllow Talk: The Edward Cullen body pillow

       Of all the swag associated with vampires, including stick-on fangs, the weirdest has got to be the Edward Cullen man pillow. The “mannlow,” which was available on Etsy– it’s now sold out – is pretty much a stuffed chalk-outline with a Peter Max-ish black and white rendering of Rob Pattinson’s face on it.  First thought: If you could elongated anything about a fantasy male, why would it be his neck?

       Once that quandary is cleared away it’s impossible (at least for me) not to compare the low-tech - or no-tech - nature of this item it to the Roxxxy TrueCompanion the newest advance ‘sex robot.’ Retailing at $7,000-9,000 Roxxxy is customized, anatomically correct, has interchangeable personalities, (S&M Susan, Mature Martha and a host of others), sleeps, likes what you like, is connected to wireless internet for software updates and responds to being touched.

       Does the fact that an asexual boy-toy armrest sold out while men are buying a sex doll that’s arguably more wired than some small towns mean that women are just naturally more low tech? For a second I that might be the case, not because I'm sexist but because I never forgot an episode of "This American Life in which a woman transitioning to manhood stated that two of the effects of huge testosterone infusions were a heightened sexuality and a sudden interest in and understanding of science. I was fascinated, somewhat upset but very vindicated by his story, fascinated because of the way a little spurt of chemical can change one's nature, upset because it is ammo for sexism (even interviewer Alex Blumberg joked "You're just setting us back 100 years, sir,") and vindicated because science is not at all intuitive to me. The mysteries of the human heart are no challenge, but don't ask me how the phone works.

      So the testosterone story was the first thing to pop into my head, but on further reflection it seems that the sexes both have their love of high- and low-tech intimacy. Women are constantly having sex with machinery after all - modern vibrators have more advanced controls than a Tilt-o-Whirl. So far, though, we haven't seriously wanted them attached to anything that takes up room on the couch (there is a 'Rocky' companion to Roxxy that's currently in the works; we'll see how that goes).
       So women, too, are sexually gadget-happy and when it comes to 2-D love men can be low-tech, too.

       Not too long James Franco appeared on 30 Rock as a a man is “in love with and common-law married to a Japanese body pillow.” These body pillows are for real – long pillows printed with images of anime characters and they’ve become a substitute for love for a lot of Japanese men according to Lisa Katayama’s New York Times story Love in 2-D. Just like in “Lars and the Real Girl,” they take their pillows out on dates and spend quatliy time with them. While some of these relationships are “unconsummated,” Katayama writes, but “for others, 2-D is a full-fledged sexual lifestyle.”

       On one hand I can think of some people (me included) who would have been better off with a couch cushion than the humans they’ve dated. The disconnection that has caused some Japanese men to almost entirely give up on a human relationships is certainly sad, but at least it's understandable –dating is weird and awkward for even the most secure individuals. On the other hand, a lot of the images that evidently adorn these anime pillows are of prepubescent girls. Now that’s just grand mal creepy.

       And it actually makes the Edward Cullen pillow look like healthy, normal swag in comparison. Sure, it's got a weird giraffe neck but at least Rob Pattinson is in his freaking 20's. Have at it Twihards. And sweet dreams.

Me on Steve Otero's Mondo Eros

A little while back I had the pleasure of being a guest on Steve Otero’s Mondo Eros radio show out of NYC – the podcast is up! So check it out when you get a chance – we talked about nudism, polyamory and god-knows-what-all, so I hope you enjoy it, and while you’re there check out the Sexy Spirits website for great stories on sex, psychology, technique and culture. Enjoy! 

"Boys are policemen; girls are metermaids."

Came across this little gem in my web travels last week, "I'm glad I'm a boy! I'm glad I'm a girl!" by Whitney Darrow, a children's book that explains gender roles with comparisons like "Boys are doctors. Girls are nurses," and "Boys can eat. Girls can cook."As of this writing there is one going for as high as $340.76 on Amazon. Kind of surprising that this was published in in 1970; I thought I grew up in a more enlightened era than this. It was, after all, the year that also debuted spunky single serial-dating career girl Mary Richards in "The Mary Tyler Moore Show," the publication of Kate Millet's influential feminist work "Sexual Politics," and the all-girl rock stars Josie and the Pussycats. Come to think of it, it was also a year when Dean Martin's entrouage of women was called "The Golddiggers" (guess what I wanted to be when I grew up). So we did get more self-determined in some ways and stayed plenty ditzified in others. Go ahead and say it. Some things never change.

One comparison in the book still stands: "Boys are presidents; girls are first ladies." The fact that that one came closer than ever to changing recently is actually a really big deal. It's no longer a surprise to see women at the highest professional levels, which it was in 1970. In the 70's women were secretaries. Now one's a Secretary of State. We still have a long way to go - but it's easier knowing we've come so far.

I'm in Details Magazine!!!

So, so, so excited! I've posted items from Details Magazine many times on this blog - I've long been a fan of the magazine for it's fresh content and witty writing and I'm proud to have done a piece for them for the online addition: 5 Rules from the Polyamorous for not Screwing Up Valentines Day. I talked to so many people for this story and enjoyed their conversation so much, so thanks everyone! Post it, repost it, but mostly enjoy it! Cheers!

Butt soft! Guest Blogger Charles Martin recommends romantic films for Valentines Day!

Not only was Charles Martin my first editor, he introduced me to the films of Tim Burton, both of which prove he knows what he’s talking about when it comes to entertainment. A lifelong cinephile, former editor of The Orlando Sun who has written for Film Threat, Mac World and many other outlets, I asked him to recommend some mainstream films for your romantic weekend viewing.

You can check out his movie blog Film Moi here, his Canadian blog Crawling from the USA and the podcast from his former WPRK show Crusty Old Wave here. Enjoy!

The films you saw at the early stages of your romantic life can have an enormous impact on your perceptions of love, the opposite sex, and life in general. Further, because most people tend to see movies on the big screen only once -- those thoughts and impressions and visual memories work their way deeper into our subconscious than something we can see on-demand any old time via the cable box or the internets.

Thanks to a local art-house cinema in my youth, my fantasy love life was longer and much richer than my actual love life for quite some little while, but I used that time learning from the Masters of Romance, from Rudolph Valentino to Errol Flynn. The main thing I learned from them is that their pick-up lines don’t work as well if you’re not as rich or good-looking -- or living in the 1940s.

Sexually-charged scenes always made an impact on me and the first I can recall was in Zefferelli’s 1968 Romeo & Juliet when the sun rose and the lovers gently bickered about the nightingale and the lark. It wasn’t just the nudity, I had seen that before -- there was a beauty and a tender emotional connection, between the lovers and between them and us -- that a movie hadn’t given me before. To this day, I get dreamy-eyed just thinking about this film.

Around that time I snuck into a showing of Fellini’s Satyricon and received a mind-blowing vicarious thrill of teen love and decadent lust that fueled a powerful fire indeed, one that drove me to accelerate my indoctrination into the forbidden worlds of adult pleasures. I happened to catch The Rocky Horror Picture Show on its earliest “cult” runs and recall vividly how Frank N. Furter -- particularly in the scene where he disguises himself and seduces both Brad and Janet -- took my notions of “normal” and traditional sexual roles and blew them as sky-high as that spaceship mansion of theirs (it’s the sheer curtain that really does it for me).

Blue balls from unsatisfied lust has nothing on the pain of a pure and broken heart, and as I transitioned away from the raw thrills of sexually-charged films, I found (no doubt due in part to the early influence of Romeo & Juliet) that sad films often produced the most romantic feelings, as tragedy often reminds you of the importance of appreciating what you have when you have it. Films such as The Elephant Man and Requiem for a Dream, The Very Long Engagement or In America have all those elements, but most romances are trumped by the first 10 minutes of Pixar’s Up; that such a charming, effective and utterly perfect portrait of love and loss and everything that is important about life should be the preamble of a children’s “wacky misadventure” type movie makes it all the more amazing.

It still must be said that if you made a movie of my love life it could only be a comedy. The romantic bits of Monty Python’s Life of Brian come to mind: I’m not the Messiah, I’m a very naughty boy!

One type of movie I can’t recommend if you’re serious about making Valentine’s Day something special is the so-called “Romantic Comedy.” I suggest – as always – that you dig up movies with genuine emotion as much as wits or tits. A shared laugh is an often-overlooked but insanely powerful bonding agent. For all the yuks and sight gags, Airplane! is actually a really sweet love story. Young Frankenstein has nothing but love at its heart when you think about it. Still, my favourite commedia di amore is a classic in the “war between the sexes” genre – combining sagacity and sexuality, mischief and misdirection, exotic locations and erotic elocution; songs and words and deeds in praise of a love based on genuine friendship – 1993’s Much Ado About Nothing. Indeed, it was the theme of my wedding.

So give up that Ghost DVD and pass the porn on to your buddy – for true love, the play is the thing.

Sexpert, author Sheri Winston at Florida School for Holistic Living

Sheri Winston will be teaching her Wholistic Sexuality Classes at Florida School for Holistic Living from February 10 -14. Below is an overview of her recently released book “Women’s Anatomy of Arousal: Secret Maps to Buried Pleasure.” Movie Mondays Valentines Day recommendations will come out later this week; yeah, I can shift time like that.

       When you were taught sex ed in school – hell, if you were taught sex ed in school – how much of it do you remember?

       Honestly, I don’t remember almost anything. We all knew what went where in regards to intercourse but as we grew older we didn’t get a lot of schooling in regard to any of the attendant aspects that make sex good sex: sensuality, passion, play, self-stimulation and mostly the fact that this would all take long while and a lot of honest exploration to learn (which sure as hell wasn’t the way it seemed in the movies).

       Those of us who grew up in the 70’s and 80’s were a little luckier to at least have “Our Bodies, Ourselves,” and Dr. Ruth to help us but despite those boosts a lot of things about sexuality remained mysterious and confusing. It would have been great to have an older sister – a smart one that you could talk to who knew everything but wasn’t awkward, like your mom or teachers.

       Sheri Winston is that sophisticated sister, the one who not only knows the score but knows how to convey it to you in lanague that’s thoughtful and comfortable. The more you learn from her the more you’re ready to hear.

       Last year I attended and wrote about Sheri's workshops and this year much of the material she covers in her lectures are happily combined in her new book Women's Anatomy of Arousal: Secret Maps to Buried Pleasure. Sheri’s frank, easy manner translates well to the page and once you begin to get involved you’ll find a wealth of beautiful information that will make you only want to put it down to try out its techniques.

       One thing I love about this book is that it’s so gentle and welcoming – it’s not just about getting off, it’s about your very personal paths to erotic enjoying…and getting off. So many of us have the mistaken idea that sexuality just naturally to us – we’re animals and animals just know how to do it, right? – but to get the maximum happiness and natural joy takes effort, exploration and practice. And these things take time. You will get it but not overnight. I’ve actually felt myself physically relax just reading Sheri’s gentle, insightful book which explains “wholistic” sexuality as embracing the body, mind, heart and spirit all working in concert to make beautiful, freeing music together.

       Some of the things she covers that can reassure even the most intimidated and enlighten even the most sophisticated are:

       - a treatise on both the female and male sexual energies as studied in Taoist sexuality, the yin and yang, including a great analogy about how our differing approach to cats and dogs reflects how we should approach female vs. male sexuality

       - a ‘vulva gallery’ offering photographic and hand-drawn images of the vulva which most women usually only see either in their own body or in porn films which don’t necessarily give you an idea of the head-spinning variations on what a ‘normal’ outward appearance is

        - “Homeplay” (as opposed to home work) guides offering techniques for how to get to know your own anatomy more intimately – knowledge is power, power is confidence and confidence is happiness

       - “Hot Tips For Guys” and “Smart Slut Tricks” along the way to help male partners learn what you’ll love right along with you

       - How our female erectile tissue works (yes, we have it, too)

       - Where and what the G-spot is and how to tickle it

       - “Vaginal ecology,” or the delicate balance of vaginal chemistry and how to encourage its health

       - A poetic view of the menstrual cycle, it’s association to the lunar cycle and treatment in primitive (read: natural) cultures

       - How to use, sound, movement and the pelvic muscles to escalate your sexual pleasure

       - The arts of hands-off orgasms and female ejaculation

       - “Clit notes” at the end that are an abbreviated reminder of everything you’ve just learned

       Sheri also included a lot of beautiful illustrations and helpful charts long the way to instruct and inspire.

       I loved Sheri’s classes, learned a lot in them and can honestly say they worked for me. I’m not as far along as I will be one day but I have a much better start than I did before meeting her. Having “Women’s Anatomy of Arousal,” is like being able to drop in on live instruction when I need a boost or am ready to move on to the next place, which, Sheri assures me – and you – can be whenever I’m good and ready. 

Guest Blogger Richard Torres: A Valentine's Day Soundtrack

 

       Someone once said that “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” If that’s true Richard Torres could do a samba about the Guggenheim that would make “Dancing with the Stars” look like aqua-robics at the rest  home. Music is tough to capture in words but Rich does it with such finesse that I asked him to offer some recommendations for your Valentines Day and lucky us, he agreed.

       Richard has written about the arts for The Village Voice, New York Times, The New Yorker and Newsday and is the author of the urban detective novel Freddie's Dead.  His blog Rich Thoughts  has more musical musings (including the one below) but for now – for you - his Valentine’s Soundtrack.

FEBRUARY 4, 2010 A Valentine's Day Soundtrack

     My friend Liz Langley – a terrific writer - posed an intriguing question to me the other night: if I had to pick three albums – a “sexy,” “romantic” and “goofy” one – for a Valentine’s Day soundtrack, which would I select? Well, here they are and the reasons why.

      Sexy: Let’s Get It On by Marvin Gaye. As my choices show, I’ve been in an old-school mood lately. (For the musically-challenged, old-school refers to the pre ‘90’s period of the 20th century when both radio and melody mattered.) Now, I could’ve selected discs by Maxwell, Robin Thicke, Usher, R. Kelly, even Prince but why bother when I can go to the source. See, in the ’70’s with albums like What’s Going On, I Want You and Let’s Get It On, Marvin Gaye set the musical template that today’s “sexy” singers fervently follow. Of the aforementioned Marvin trinity, Let’s Get It On states its case with a then-uncommon frankness. Just the song titles tell you exactly what was on the marvelous one’s mind: “Keep Getting’ It On,” “Come Get To This,” “You Sure Love To Ball,” “Just To Keep You Satisfied” and, of course, the sublime “Let’s Get It On.” (Already in possession of his fans’ hearts and minds, Marvin decided this time to aim for their nether regions.) Finally, I gotta say that if you can’t do the deed with the sounds of the ultimate love man at his cooing best then stop, get up, power up the computer and Google ‘nearest monastery” cause that’s where you’re headed. (Pun intended.)

     Romantic: Promise by Sade. There was many a contender for this title. Performers from Luther Vandross to Luis Miguel to the Isley Brothers to Roxy Music to Johnny Mathis to Miles Davis to John Coltrane to Barry White have created multiple works of undeniable sensual satisfaction. (Shoot, with the right combination of candlelight, wine and person, even Barry Manilow, Ol’ Dirty Bastard or the Ramones can work. Trust me on this.) But on this – her second LP – Sade hit a sustained sensual peak few performers have ever matched. Sinuously slinking through tunes like “Is It A Crime,” – still her most emotional song –“The Sweetest Taboo,” “War Of The Hearts” and “Never As Good As The First Time,” the combination of Sade’s smoky vocals and the pseudo-jazz instrumentation anchored by a mournful saxophone creates a sumptuous ambience than transcends the depressing lyrics. It’s a downer of an album but an uplifting experience, if, wink-wink, you know what I mean.

     Goofy: Love To Love You Baby by Donna Summer. This was the toughest choice to make. I mean, you’re talking to a guy who with the right lady can have, ahem, fun to, say, the theme to Ren & Stimpy. (And I’ve got the affidavits to prove it.) So I thought about quirky albums like Stevie Wonder’s great, much misunderstood masterwork The Secret Life Of Plants. (Think of it as the aural equivalent to Isabella Rossellini’s Green Porno series and you’ll get what I mean.) Or stuff from artists as far-flung and disparate as Rammstein, Paul Anka, Method Man, Ennio Morricone, Fleetwood Mac, the Clash, Public Enemy, Cher, Def Leppard, Reba McEntire and the Spice Girls. (I plead guilty – with a big smile – to all of the above.) Well, you understand my dilemma. That’s why I went back to the birth of disco’s sexual frankness. I’m referring, of course, to Donna Summer’s groundbreaking – and, for some, backbreaking – moan-a-thon Love To Love You Baby.

     Now forget the other five tracks on this LP. They don’t matter and 93% of you won’t get to them anyway. See, the trick is to last, to survive the 16 minutes and 51 seconds of the album’s title track. Clocking in at an unofficial 2000 moans and 1769 orgasms – that’s counting every hiccup, sigh and stammer – Love To Love You Baby is an exhilarating showcase for Ms. Summer’s ahem, skills. (After hearing this song again recently, I now believe a reason she later became born-again is that she was just too tuckered out to sin). While it may have set the Olympian standard for orgiastic oratory, I urge each of you reading this to put this track on Valentine evening and - to quote Sly Stallone in the neo-Shakespearean cinema classic Rocky III - “Go for it!” (Records were made to be broken, right?) In the interim, feel free to send in your own picks and remember to have a happy VDay, everybody!

Toy Talk: Massage in a Bottle

       Sometimes the best sex is accidental..

       Not ‘accidental’ as in falling down strategically on someone at a nudist resort; accidental as in the unexpected discovery of a new turn-on. Of course great sensual moments can be planned; sometimes planning is even required (birth control, room reservations, place cards for the orgy) but there’s nothing quite so gratifying as touching your honey in a certain spot and hearing them make that “Mmm!” or “Oh!” sound that signals that, like Columbus, you’ve stumbled on something that might have a little promise.

       I discovered America while trying out Kama Sutra’s Serenity massage oil, a relaxing, clean-smelling mix of marjoram, cedar, orange and lavender. Some of you might remember when all massage oils were cloyingly sweet and their scents came at you like a wrecking ball: waves of strawberry and pina colada could disorient a whole Spencer’s Gifts full of people if you spilled the tester. Thankfully things have gotten more sophisticated.

       There two things I recommend for a massage that’s more relaxing than Ambien. First: use your nails. Of course I don’t mean you should claw your partner like you’re trying to unwrap a CD and can’t find the tab, I mean drag your nails across the skin lightly enough not to hurt but firmly enough to be stimulating and slightly authoritative. Too light a touch can feel like they have a bug on them; the only thing that will arouse is annoyance.

       The second is to not dwell on the obvious places. You will get to the bathing suit parts eventually; they are not the last discounted flat screen at Best Buy so there’s no need charge towards them like someone might beat you to it. Massaging the back and shoulders are of course lovely because a lot of people hold tension in those places but in addition you want to expand your territory. If your sugar-booger works at a computer all day how cramped up do their hands get? If they’re on their feet all day, those could definitely use some love. The thighs, the scalp, the ankles – how nice does it feel even to just have your face lightly caressed? Everything counts.

       At some point in your expedition you’re going to find that place which, if your lover were a dog, would make their foot go 90 miles an hour. Finding that spot is as close as you’ll ever come to casting a spell – the mix of surrender  (mutual, because you will not be able to stop) and connection can be inversely orgasmic: a very quiet, focused rush of intimacy instead of an outward, explosive, loud one. And the afterglow can certainly be as blissful. The rapture could occur and you wouldn’t hear a thing because the rapture, right then, is at your fingertips.

       This slow, patient, exploratory massage has the effect of making time stand still; you’ll be too doped up on your own chemistry to move. Don’t attempt it if you have somewhere to be right away.

       The Kama Sutra products you can get at Fairvilla, the hands you already use every day. Now all you need to find is time. Since you’ll never want to stop you're going to need a lot of it. 

("Serenity" kanji from www.thejapaneseconnection.com)

A PA Goodwill's new spin on Valentine's Day

Talk-Life-A-Pirate-Day notwithstanding, only a few holidays really have fans, mostly Christmas and Halloween. People don’t put light-up turkeys on their lawn for Thanksgiving or obsess over their July 4 outfit. And if you see any adults dressing up as Cupid in the next two weeks, please, please send me a picture before you contact the police.

Valentines Day is not universally loved: if you’re a romantic person it’s fun, but you don’t need a holiday to break out the lingerie. If you’re not a romantic it blows by you like Groundhog Day did. If you’re a cynic you start your eye-rolling campaign just about now, when the commercials start pushing red electronics as expressions of commitment (but they’re red! Get it?)

It seems to me that the VDay zeitgeist has mellowed into a more all-inclusive celebration of love in general – for your partner, your pals, your pets and anyone else that will put up with you. It’s a more MOR vibe that invites everyone to the party.

Some keen-eyed people in Pennsylvania, however, have found a clever way to turn the anti-aspect of VDay into a constructive, even cathartic tool for those whom love hasn’t treated so kindly. On Feb. 12, a PA Goodwill will have a "dump your ex's stuff" collection drive. Patriot-News reporter Lauren Boyer writes: “…behind the Valentine’s Day paper heart cutouts speckling the window of the Colonial Park Goodwill is the graveyard of relics from relationships past that inspired the event’s creation.

Mugs reading “You’re the best lover,” 25th-anniversary flower vases, and bride and groom Champagne glasses have made their way onto shelves.”

Ouch…if you’re a Goodwill shopper, though, you’ve seen it for yourself in the store before, just never framed as a therapeutic plan to reclaim your space, which is a brilliant spin. Ditching the relics of a relationship is usually a lugubrious and lonely business no matter how many friends are available to offer both cocktails and assessments of your ex that have to be handled with fire tongs. The idea of making it about the optimistic and graspable future rather than the pain-riddled past (as one of my friends put it when I had to get rid of the clothing of a loved one who had passed on “That’s like keeping a bag of sad,”) is a wise one, enough so that other second-hand stores are likely to follow suit. In two years it will be part of the culture, like sexy adult Halloween costumes and 24-hour runs of “A Christmas Story.”

It’s a weird thought that ceramic and plastic can outlast love. But maybe it’s a good reminder that if we all put a teeny bit more time into the people we have in our lives, romantic and platonic, they might last longer than our attachment that statuette that says “I love you thiiiiiiiiiiis much.”

Movie Mondays: Adult Film Reviews: A Tale of Two Tigers

The ironic thing about the adult film parodies of the Tiger Woods saga is that in one glaring way they can be more realistic than any news show: they can show the sex.

Well, not the sex obviously, but sex, with lots and lots of different girls, which caused the fight, the car wreck and these two satires: “Tyler’s Wood” (Adam & Eve) and “Tiger’s Got Wood” (ZB Ventures), both now available at Fairvilla Megastore.

Tyler and Tiger are framed almost identically, cutting between TV reports on the scandal and hardcore vignettes of how the affairs might have gone. In the first Tyler Knight plays Tyler who we first see getting in the accident and wondering “How the hell did I get here?’

Then of course we see how he got there. There several hardcore scenes with different women, my favorite featuring a girl named Jamie Moneygrubber (Natasha Nice), who Tiger asks to change her outgoing voicemail message in case his wife calls. She changes it to “This is Jaime, unless this is Ilan. If this is Ilan you’ve reached Chinese Express To Go….”

Ilan has her revenge by bedding an employee, played by the ubiquitous Evan Stone. Evan Stone’s IMDB credits show 784 films in the past 12 years so it must be official – if there’s going to be sex in a movie Evan Stone has to be in it. If you’re making sex tapes at home and Evan Stone is not in them you may be violating some kind of adult film industry law. Better be careful.

This isn’t a complaint – I like Evan Stone, but I thought “Surely if he’s in one Tiger parody he can’t be in the other, too. Isn’t that a conflict?”

Obviously not because – TADA! - Stone appears in “Tiger’s Got Wood” as a security camera installer hired Tiger’s wife Elaine Norwegian Wood.

'Tiger' was more deft in it's handling of the comedy and it paid off, like the newscasters speculating about the athlete's financial future and saying, “The only endorsement deal he’ll ever get is from a condom factory.” It seemed for a second like they’re going to MST3K the actual sex scenes this way and I liked the comedy enough that I kind of wish they had.

So I paid more attention to the screwy part than the screwing part, but I will say about the sex in both films that I was kind of jealous that I wasn’t having it (which might say more about me than the films). ‘Tiger’ boasted a noteworthy positioning scene, missionary but with the man facing the woman's feet (the fourth stage in the "Turning Position" in the Kama Sutra) There's something new for you to try and just in time for Valentine's Day, huh?

Finally, on a personal note, while I was writing this there was a cat in heat howling outside my window. I do believe she was peeking through the blinds.