Gunning, and other useful prison terms.

Not too long ago Relevant Magazine published an article called “Is Masturbation Sin?”  by Jesse Eubanks. My first thought was, “your face is a sin.” But then my second thought, the more mature one (which is always second or possibly third in the lineup), was “maybe I should read this bullshit.” So I did.  And so did Sugardaddy, who had some interesting insights. (Thank you, my sexy little homersexual).  We will share these with you here.  The article is from a man’s point of view. He didn’t seem to elicit the perspectives of a woman when espousing his ideas, so I will do that for him here. I’m not going to be one of those people who stands around and complains that someone else didn’t do something helpful. No one likes those people.

The main issue Sugardaddy took with the article was that “disconnectedness” was being blamed on stroking the salami.  And as a man and woman who have been married for ten years and have experienced the gamut of “marital issues”, we can attest with the strength of a thousand suns that arm wrestling the one-armed champ is NOT the culprit for disconnection between us. Not even close.  I can expand on that at a later, more drunken, date.  And then on top of that, a female’s perspective on masturbation was no where to be found.  Here women are still struggling after FOREVER to understand their bodies, their sexuality, their needs and desires… much of this achieved through the exploration that is masturbation, and this goes straight up ignored during his belittling of the act.  That and– Sugardaddy just likes to watch me masturbate, so Eubanks can just go suck a cock.  With that being said…

In prison, masturbation goes by the term “gunning”. Therefore, in order to accurately relate to you as the prison bitch that you are, I will henceforth refer to it as gunning for the remainder of our time together here on this blog. Maybe by reading it, the chances of your gunning session being interrupted by a large greasy 55 year old white biker inserting his super-nast rod in your brown star… will increase.

What I don’t think people understand is that… gunning is one of the keys to world peace.  If everyone would just take a moment and partake in a little anal play while applying a vibrator to sensitive areas, mass conflicts would be resolved!  Babies would be reunited with mothers, mothers would stop getting acid thrown on their faces, chemical weaponry would cease to be used against your friend and neighbor.  It’s when dictators or mothers begin using butter or the blood of Jews as lube that we need to stop and say to ourselves “maybe something is wrong here.”

45387908714429798_7DvJ8hS6_fIn the article Eubanks states, “When we attempt to find fulfillment outside of God’s design, we may find temporary enjoyment, but ultimately it leads to pain, disconnection and death. It’s like donuts. They are delicious and when I eat them, a smile emerges from ear to ear. But they do not bring a lasting fulfillment and when my life is littered with donuts, it ultimately leads to pain, disconnection, death and husky jeans.” What I can gather from this is that 1) Eubanks has never actually gunned (or maybe he did it wrong?); and 2) is under the (false) impression that he can do a better job of flicking the bean than a woman can. Does he even know what a bean is, when I use that term? Tell us Eubanks, are you a master of the clitoris, so much so that you and your crusty donut must be the only one who touches it, and no one else?! PPBBFFFFTT! Holy shit, that’s funny to me.

He goes on to ask, “How can a spouse in the real world ever compete with the on-demand response of our fantasies that masturbation encourages? …In real life, people don’t want to have sex at the drop of a hat all of the time. People have emotional and spiritual needs that often must be met before they are ready for physical intimacy. There are no issues of love and forgiveness and struggle in the world of fantasy. There is no deep connection.”  I don’t know, maybe he never gets turned down by his wife. Let me tell you when Sugardaddy gets rejected: when the baby is crying, when I haven’t slept in days because the baby won’t sleep, when the 4 year-old won’t stay in her bed, when I have morning mouth, when I’m bleeding heavily, when I’m on a business trip, when I’m bloated, when either of us is sick sick, when one of our kids is in the hospital for months on end, when we’re stressed…. oh wait that’s potentially a lot.  Far be it for me to deny him a little cum in the bucket when I just don’t feel like giving it up.  And I’ll be damned if I’m seen as some sex slave who has to pleasure my man every time he gets a little wood. Which is a lot. Fuck that shit. If he wants to lead Pedro down the road of bulimia, he has my blessing.

Let’s get loud: Female beauty of all flavors.

New post over at BIG TOUCH >>> (Go there now!!!)

Ladies, let’s explain sexuality to the world (so they hear us).

Beauty has been defined for us as women, of all races and ethnicities.  Here are some voices contributing to reclaiming sexuality and beauty.  Raise your voices, friends.

Take me to BIG TOUCH. 

The lost art of keeping your 4-year-old off the pole.

If you haven’t figured it out already, your role as a parent includes keeping your daughter off the pole, which requires setting standards of how she should expect to be treated by others, as well as explaining her anatomy to her.  As much of a free spirit as I am about sexuality and femininity, I found the latter to be one of the more difficult lessons for me to relay to my 4-year-old.  It all started when she was 3, and stopped wearing diapers. I was so proud of myself.  Potty-training– DONE. The next thing I know, we’re watching cartoons and I see her chubby little toddler fingers exploring her nether regions. I mean, you can’t blame her– she’d never had access to that part of her body back in diaper-land.  Undies offer a freedom that I had to teach her to respect.

“What are you doing, pumpkin?” “I’m touching my privacy,” she says matter-of-factly in her high-pitched little voice. (That’s what she called her private parts at the time.)  I had no idea what to do. How was I supposed to teach her that it’s not socially acceptable to finger herself in the presence of others without making her feel ashamed? Knowing your body and the eventual art of masturbation are healthy parts of life, but not in front of your Mom. NOT IN FRONT OF YOUR MOM. Luckily, my fellow mom-boss Holly was there, and she’d already traversed this scary frontier with her two boys. “Bathroom or bedroom, bathroom or bedroom,” she whispered to me hurriedly, so that the madness would end.  It was at that point that I realized I needed to have some answers ready… coming up with them in the moment was not an option.

And she’s going to have a lot of questions, your daughter… and you better have the answers ready that you want settled into the little “sex corner” of her mind.  Otherwise, our fucked up world has answers ready and waiting, and they’re not the answers that will give your daughter a long and happy life with a satisfying and self-respecting relationship with her body, or with other people’s bodies.  Like these “pole-dancing parties”. And I’m not talking about for adults, I’m talking about the ones that 12-year-olds are currently doing for their birthdays.  Or the “rainbow parties” that involve junior highers, a line of girls with different colors of lipstick on, and a line of little dudes who, in my opinion, have years of work to do to earn that kind of love from a woman.

Mark my words: My. Daughters. Aren’t. Gonna. Do. That. Shit.

So here is what I’ve learned. It’s okay to shake your booty with your daughter while you listen to LMFAO’s “Sexy and I Know It”. It’s NOT okay to let them watch the video, and not just because it is not attractive when a guy can only lift ten pounds, or when groups of guys have penis-wiggling contests in bars. Also, it is not okay to let her say “shake my hot booty” (because she should not at the age of 4 know what “hot” means in that context). And when the word “sexy” pops up in the verse, tell her she can’t sing that word because, while sexy is not a bad word, it is a grown-up word.

When you explain her lady parts, don’t use words that have negative connotations that might invoke a sense of shame for having a vagina.   Like “naughty” or “no-no”. Because the world is telling her that it’s a dirty, wicked thing. And it is NOT. The world is also telling her that, if she has a vagina, that she is dumber than her penis-bearing counterparts, and that she shouldn’t hold positions of power, authority, decision-making, strategizing, or influence.   I find it’s simplest to use the technical term, but then apply a nice little word for her everyday use. Like “bottom”, or “private parts.”  A nice little analogy to help your daughter understand what private means can be found in Where the Wild Things Grow, where the kid has a private boat. The boat is JUST HIS. And people have to ask nicely before they can ride in the boat, and he’s allowed to say no to anyone who wants to ride in the boat if he doesn’t want them to. And if people insist on riding in the boat after he says no, then it is more than acceptable to kick that person’s ass so they think twice the next time they feel like riding in whatever boat they fucking want to.

Also, try to avoid using the following terms to refer to her vagina:

Penis glove, cock sock, cock pocket, cum dumpster, sperm bottle, goop chute, love rug, poontang, poonanie, cooch, vertical bacon sandwich, bearded clam, meat curtains, hatchet wound, fur burger, front bottom, kebab, minge, snapper, catfish, love canal, the cum dump, chocha, black hole, sperm sucker, fish sandwich, cock warmer, whisker biscuit, deep socket, cum craver, cock squeezer, slice of heaven, flesh cavern, glory hole, man in the boat, DNA dumpster, tuna town, split dick, bikini bizkit, cock holster, cockpit, snooch, poody tat, cold cut combo, furry furnace, slop hole, nether lips, serpent socket, hairy doughnut, fun hatch, spasm chasm, bacon hole, belly entrance, sugar basin, sweet briar, breakfast of champions, wookie, fish mitten, fuck pocket, hump hole, Republic of Labia, fetus flaps, sausage wallet, Yo Yo Smuggler, Ninja Boot, Chia Hole, Furrogi (Poland), Fortune Nookie, Calamari Cockring, Displabia, Bluntfrunt, moneymaker, The Helmut Hide-A-Way, toolshed, snake charmer, Furby, Enchilada of love, queef quarters, cream canal, punash, salami garage, slurpee machine, pink cookie, penalty box, meat crease, pole hole, one-eyed python trail, bubble gum by the bum, horn of plenty, the indoor picnic, hamper of goodies, the welcome opponent,  devil’s hole, pooswaa, south mouth, Lawrence of A Labia, ponchita,The Notorious V.A.G., baby oven, penis parking, cooter muffin, the promised land, cha cha, the virginator, scrumpter, cucumber canal, dick dungeon, cock curator, nice slice, weiner wrap, pachinko, fuck donut, the unmentionable, jaws of life, love cave, Indiana bones and the temple of poon, or pushin cushion.

If she, upon maturing, and from a place of self-awareness and long-established self-respect, decides to adopt any of those terms (really more because some of them are funny) then so be it.

UPDATE:

A good one: Holie of Holies. Brought to you by the man who explained to me that, if a man wasn’t crazy about me, then he wasn’t fucking worth it. And that’s truth, people.

All this shit is so 1994.

I see it as my job here at Milk & Honey ~ Geeks & Gangstas, to keep all my sexy crackas up to speed on the latest trends and fashions of our time. It’s a responsibility I take seriously, particularly because some of my crackas are a little slow on the uptake.

Let me begin by reminding you all that it is the year of our lord Two Thousand and Fucking Twelve (2012 A.D.).  It’s no longer two centuries ago, or even the 1990’s, where apparently it was socially acceptable to stand by and watch, or even participate, as innocent people were hunted down and killed because of their skin color or ethnicity.  These atrocities were flanked by other crazy bullshit, like the show Full House parading across our TV screens, or Blossom for that matter.  Some shit just shouldn’t happen anymore, primarily because it never should’ve happened in the first place.

Since this important detail has apparently alluded some of my cuddly little bunnies, I thought I’d detail several of these 90’s trends that are simply not fashionable these days, so you can please stop doing them now.

Junior High School.

That’s where I was in the mid-90’s, and I’m never going back there. The only upside to junior high was stabbing my best buddy in the leg with a pilot pen.  Which was the beginning of our now S & M relationship, which takes place all via text and facebook.

Natural Disasters.

Tsunamis, hurricanes and earthquakes are so passe. Get with the now, Earth.

Killing Black people.

So, I see someone didn’t get the memo… like George Zimmerman, along with the State of Florida’s entire executive branch and judicial system… To whom I now direct the question, “What the ffffuck?”

I won’t comment further on these obvious shenanigans at this point, because I by no means want to make a joke of this very real bullshit, and the absurdity speaks for itself.  A more appropriate and thoughtfully articulated commentary on this can be found over HERE at Brown Betty’s.  What I want to emphasize from her words is an appeal to all my lovely crackas to not be desensitized to the blatant personal and systemic racism of our day.  Let’s leave that shit in the last millenium, shall we?

Sucking your boss’ dick.

If I learned anything at the ripe age of 16 from a certain Monica Lewinsky, it was to not get caught up in the very bad decision of sucking my boss’ dick.  The only thing about that situation that makes any damn sense to me at all, is that her boss happened to be the most powerful man in the world.  Outside of that, let’s leave that shit in the 90’s.

Taking Native people’s land.

As in “Hey, let’s clear this Mohawk burial site and expand this golf course. Oh and some luxury condominiums would be swell.”  Let’s. Stop. Doing. This. Shit.

Having actual sex in person.

Who needs to risk an unwanted pregnancy or acquiring an infectious venereal disease, when you can just have sex via webcam? You’ve got the visual, you’ve got a few handy tools and lubes… Real life sex is so old school. (And downright dangerous.)

Ethnic cleansing.

As in Hutus massacring 800,000 Tutsis (or 20% of the Rwandan population) in just 100 days, or Serbs rounding up entire cities of Muslim Bosniaks, putting them in concentration camps, and systematically torturing the men and raping all the women.  May I suggest a little something to my fellow human beings?  That is not okay! I don’t care if Yugoslavia deteriorated and you gotta figure out what land you’re gonna set up your shit on. Figure it out, and don’t be a dick!

The Macarena + Chumbawumba = I hate my life.

No seriously, when I’m at a wedding reception and the Macarena comes on, I literally start asking my friends and neighbors for a gun or semi-sharp object so that I can kill myself.

Fear of Y2K.

Hey, preppers, the fear of the world disintegrating ended as I made out with my high school boyfriend in his truck on New Year’s Eve ummmm… twelve years ago.  (But if “the shit hits the fan”, can we be besties?)

Having the “gay” disease.

Now that the World Health Organization has removed homosexuality from its list of diseases, it’s okay to go ahead and be gay. Go on now. It’s okay, little bird. Spread your wings and fly.

This one goes out to K-Money, my sexy harbor ho. Now that I’ve gotten the cynicism out of my system, I’ll write a more positive ode to the 90’s. I promise, boo. BTW, some of these “related articles” may or may not make this post look less crazy… you decide.”

“Black men tell me my penis is huge”, and other half-truths.

As if I haven’t already publicly humiliated myself 100 times over with this stupid blog, I’ve decided to start a sex page called Big Touch. You can get to it through the top menu, too.

Maybe it is birthed out of a time a few weeks ago when I was eating juicy lucies at Matt’s Bar where my girlfriend was telling me she’s had jaw issues ever since she had braces as a kid, and then I told her that must be rough since I’m sure her husband has a really huge dick, and I’m sure she gives him head like ALL the time.  Or maybe it originates with my friend asking me why drinking a lot of wine makes it hard for her to cum during sex with her husband who has a penis that is on the shorter side, but of great girth (baby ain’t nothin’ wrong with that).  Or maybe it is because that vibrator I bought 2 months ago is actually for men, but I didn’t know because it didn’t say that on the package, and the very helpful ladies at Smitten Kitten must not realize that my husband doesn’t want me sticking vibrating shit in his ass. Nor do I want to stick shit (vibrating or no) in my husband’s ass.

I will say this… I am really fucking clueless. Not about how to have sex, but about sex culture. I was reading a column at Sexis the other day, where The Bloggess writes things that make my brain explode, and one of the other columnists, The Devil’s Advocate, was writing about the overuse of the word “misogyny” within the sex positive culture, and it occurred to me that I don’t even know what that shit is. I had to google “sex positive.” Oh, so it’s a whole movement– got it.  I’ve been a self-described feminist (and a self-appointed Ruler over Everything) for years, but I really gotta get with the program.  This is what happens when you study socio-economics and global urban poverty for ten years– you ignore the important things in life. Like my vagina.  And how can I effectively rule over everyone’s life when I don’t even know what the fuck is going on?