The first Sex-Positive Journalism Awards (the Sexies) were handed out this week and I couldn’t be more excited. You see, I studied journalism in my younger days (and by younger days I mean I just graduated last fall) and although my concentration was sports media, I sit in front of you a changed woman. The Sexies have quite an advisory board – the Center for Sex and Culture, the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom, and even Babeland! You can check out more about the Sexies here, including a full list of the winners with links to the winning pieces. Listen, I may never win an SJA British Sports Journalism award or even the Pulitzer Prize, but I wouldn’t mind taking home one of these. So congratulations to the 2008 winners and here’s to hoping I join them in 2009!
Okay, okay, now that the movie (that we have surely all been waiting for) is finally out, and the hype has somewhat died down, I wanted to share my thoughts on it.
I never watched SATC when it was on HBO. I was in junior high when the series started and graduating high school at it’s end. My parents had HBO but my attention span wasn’t into it. However, when I moved away to college, the series was in syndication and throughout college, the series became an extension of my dating life. I dated my fair share of losers and Bigs (although I’ve always been partial to Steve and Harry) and as a journalism major, I clearly saw myself as the Philadelphia Carrie – although after a rough breakup, my girlfriends claimed I acted more like Samantha. I’ve seen every episode, some I have memorized (La Douleur Exquise!), and I feel it’s a completely accurate representation of how no matter how strong a woman may be, love (or the pursuit of it) can wholly consume your life.
So when the line for the Transformers 2 open casting call seemed a little too long for us, Venus Vegas and I decided to catch a Saturday matinee. Two hours later, I’d never been so happy to own giant sunglasses because I know I cried my makeup clear off my face. The movie made me laugh, cry, laugh, cry, cry, cry, laugh and cry again. Even on the big screen, the movie was still as relatable to my life as the series was. In fact, Charlotte and I shared a major life event and it wasn’t adoption or pregnancy. And the New Year’s Eve scene? I lost it.
There were a lot of things that bothered me, however. For example, no one wears couture all the time. I’ve moved to a new apartment three times in the past four years and anytime my girlfriends helped me, we were wearing our finest Target sweats – not even Juicy Couture! On the show, they often showed the ladies dressed down and I missed that element of “real” life. And Carrie, I love you, and I love that you’re feeling old enough to rock the pearls but no one wears them to bed. No one. I guess your mother didn’t warn you of the necklace choking hazards that can occur while sleeping like mine did. There wasn’t enough “good guy time” – Harry and Stanford were practically absent from the flick. And Jennifer Hudson is painful to watch. Painful! And this is coming from a girl who sang throughout her life and bawled at Dreamgirls like there was no tomorrow.
But overall, I loved it. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but I spent the rest of the weekend basking in the glow of Ben & Jerry’s, a box of Kleenex, and rom-coms (and a gratuitous serving of Brad Pitt, sorry George) and read the love letters of great men online. I’m with Big on that – Beethoven really got it right:
“We shall surely see each other soon; moreover, today I cannot share with you the thoughts I have had during these last few days touching my own life – If our hearts were always close together, I would have none of these. My heart is full of so many things to say to you – ah – there are moments when I feel that speech amounts to nothing at all”
Inspirational, don’t you think? I’m going to find my Harry this weekend and get down to coloring outside of the lines.
Okay, so Memorial Day was Monday and we all know that’s the unofficial start to summer. Summer, to me, means copious amounts of hair product to combat frizz, sweating, baseball, and drinking outside – the last two helping to eradicate memories of the first two. It might have something to do with my pale complexion, but I’m not big on summer; I’m more of a cold weather person. The fact of the matter is that summer is here and my main summer jam is the classic “Summer Girls” by LFO. What? Who? Exactly. This gem came out when I was still in junior high (1999!) but it really stands the test of time. I don’t think these guys did much after this (okay, I lie, I know the entire history of the Lyte Funky Ones) but they gave us brilliant summer lyrics like “call you up but what’s the use/I like Kevin Bacon but I hate Footloose.” Maybe that’s why none of my summer flings ever last – we have dissenting opinions on Kevin Bacon movies.
This week, I’ve been moping around the HotMoviesForHer offices because it seems like everyone’s in a relationship except for me. Even on my lunch break, I noticed everyone had a wedding ring or a lunch date or someone to wait for on the corner in hideous sandals. Listen, I’m not usually the type to whine and cry about not having someone (at least not the type to whine aloud) but it’s just EVERYWHERE.
I recently got out of a long affair that was hardly satisfying emotionally or sexually, so I feel like I’m ready for something solid. How am I supposed to find that if everyone is in a relationship?
Enter George Clooney.
George Clooney and Sarah Larson, his girlfriend of about a year, have officially split up. Yes! George must’ve felt my lonely vibes and gave her the boot. You see, George and I are soulmates. This may be hard to believe, but I have some cold, hard facts that support my case:
George Clooney is an older man. I have an old soul. We should mate.
He won an Academy Award for his role in Syriana. It’s my ultimate goal in life to win an Academy Award.
He starred in ER when I was considering a career in the medical field. He went on to direct, produce, and star in Good Night and Good Luck – and as a journalism major at the time of its release, I knew it was for me.
He recently released Leatherheads, co-starring John Krasinski of NBC’s The Office, which is the basis for why I get up and go to work in the morning.
George Clooney is really good friends with Brad Pitt. Brad Pitt’s birthday is the day before mine, which means we’re probably like-minded (according to the stars, at least). I bet this means Brad Pitt would feel the same way I would about a threesome with my soulmate and his friend.
George Clooney has a great sense of humor (to the point of being self-deprecating in interviews) – and I know you’ll agree that I do, while you’re all laughing at this very serious post.
The list goes on, but I won’t disgust you with our love. The bottom line is this: if I seem a little quiet lately, it’s because I’m so busy moving my stuff to California and learning to not get sick on motorcycle rides that I don’t have time to blog. I’m sorry, loyal readers (Porn Librarian, J.D. and Venus) – but can you blame a girl?
P.S. On the off chance that George Timothy Clooney would ever read this, I’m not crazy so you can probably skip the restraining order. However, an e-mail and/or an autographed picture wouldn’t hurt.
It’s Memorial Day! It’s the unofficial start of summer, so while you’re firing up the grills and heading to the beach, I’m bringing you something special from the air conditioned offices of HotMoviesForHer. You see, I was somewhat of a history nerd in undergrad (and in life, really) so the ladies of HM4H have asked me to share some interesting facts in the history of sex and sexuality. Memorial Day isn’t all about military history, it’s about remembering what got us to where we are today – I think that includes evidence of the first sex toys.
We’re a close-knit bunch here at HotMoviesForHer and we spend our days in the office sharing our most intimate secrets over a closely monitored instant messaging system. But hey, when you work in porn, there isn’t much left to the imagination anyway, is there?
A hilarious discussion on “man feet” after the jump!
A British study has deduced that couples who sleep apart have a better quality of life and are happier together because they’re getting a good night’s sleep. Often it seems that couples believe that sleeping apart is what tears them apart, when really a lack of sleep can be attributed to mood swings that may lead to fights.
The biggest issue between couples seems to be snoring and that men are more aggressive in addressing snoring by waking their partner while a woman will try to put up with it. I, for one can agree with this as I sometimes snore when I’m over-tired and I dated someone once who practically slugged me in the back in the middle of the night to get me to stop.
Anyone who knows me knows that my long-term commitment fears lie in sleeping arrangements. I’m all over the place in my sleep, I need white noise, I like to be cold and I like lots of pillows. What if my one true love prefers minimal pillows on the bed and a hairdryer blowing in his face? (Don’t laugh – a friend of mine knew a guy who actually slept like this! Sometimes he preferred to have it blow on his groin and would wake up with burns all over!) Sleep and I have had a pretty serious thing going on for years and I’m not ready to give it up.
Don’t get me wrong, there are some nights when I love sleeping with someone. I think it’s the ultimate sign of true intimacy, being able to sleep next to someone (and wake up next to them with gross morning breath and no makeup to hide behind) and be comfortable. I love waking up in the morning in someone’s arms or falling asleep with my head on their chest. But every night? For all time? Oh, that freaks me out. Sometimes I just want to sprawl out. And when I’m sick, or my partner is sick – go away! I want to be alone.
It’s FRIDAAAAAAAAY! TGIF, for real. Well, I’m a little irritable this week and the slightest thing is setting me off so I am seriously looking forward to the weekend. (To be fair to myself, it’s not the slightest thing but it is ridiculous nonetheless.) Anyway, my mixtape rewind is a little throwback to the early ’90s that always puts me in a good mood when I’m angry – “King of Wishful Thinking.” Thank you, Go West, for the gift that keeps on giving – even when your career hasn’t.
I think that porn is potentially ruining my social life.
That sounds harsh, I know. Before you light your torches, put glitter on your protest signs and MapQuest directions to my home, let me explain.
I’ve always been really loud and open. I don’t scare easily and I never understood boundary lines. I was always the one to “kiss and tell”; anyone in my social circle could be subjected to intimate details of my sex life at any given moment because that’s what was on my mind and I wanted to talk about it. My icebreakers include anal sex and masturbation habits. Inappropriate doesn’t even begin to describe me – and that’s without alcohol.
The thing is, I never saw it that way. I was just raised in a very open family where no topic was taboo. Even before my lucrative career began, people assumed I was some kind of harlot. (Ironically enough, I went to college a virgin and it wasn’t too long ago that I bought my last book, so it’s not like I’ve climbed Mount Everest sexually.)
I often struggle with being dumb. No, I’m not “dumb” – I graduated in the top tiers of my high school class, went through an accredited journalism program at a pretty renowned university, have a slight fixation on all things American history (to the point where I have considered many a doctoral program in the field), and I even won a spelling bee once – but I want to be. I often envy girls who don’t think about much more than shoes, clothes, and relationships. You can hear it in my speech; a desperate longing to be nothing more than, like, a total valley girl – but you can’t tell from my writing. I know, a woman should be proud of her intelligence and hold her head high, but it’s quite the cross to bear.
A study in Germany recently concluded that smart women have bad sex because they’re too busy thinking, and therefore they rarely have orgasms. I know I’ve spent time during sex thinking about numerous unrelated things – what I have to do tomorrow, did I shave my legs, what was Nietzsche really trying to say – that I almost forgot to moan a little. I always thought my mind wandered because the sex was bad, not because I was simply too smart to focus.
I thought about my past sexual history and realized the worst sex was with smart guys. The dumb ones? I never even thought about anything else. I didn’t date them, we were just having sex, nothing more, so I wasn’t concerned with anything. The sex was always really good.
Maybe that’s the smart woman’s problem – we’re always thinking about what comes next. Do we cuddle, do my thighs look okay, is he happy, does he love me, maybe Nietzsche was just full of it…it’s all the way we’ve been programmed academically. We graduate high school and we immediately move onto college or the work force. We get promoted and we yearn for even more. A masters degree? Let’s get a doctorate!
I’m not saying that being a smart woman is holding you back sexually. It’s not – smart women are also some of the most vocal in the bedroom. We’re the women who aren’t afraid to show our partner what we like or what we don’t like. We’re the women who aren’t afraid of our sexuality, period. We’re just wondering what’s next.
So here’s to taking a few moments to realize that what’s next isn’t as important as what’s happening right now. Right now is what takes you to what’s next anyway. Maybe I don’t want to be a dumb girl, but I definitely want her hang-ups – or lackthereof.
Porn for women! We hand pick through the largest online adult library to find the best movies just for women - on demand and ready to watch, along with a FREE blog full of movie reviews, sex tips, erotic stories, interviews, our own fun ramblings, and more! No monthly or recurring charges; you just pay for what you watch, without the hassles.
Main Theater
Hetero TheaterLesbian Theater Queer Theater Gay Male Theater
