Last week, I was visiting my local ethnic grocery in Chicago and found this:

Sure, I’ve tried cock before (common, who hasn’t?), but never in a soup. Anyone have any recipes?

Some other fabulous products circulating around the net:

Go Girl

Last year, BTH, wielding its connections and power, managed to get me a few samples of Go Girl, a urinating device for the girl who wishes she were a man. I know I certainly have—whenever I see women mutilating themselves so that they might be attractive to men, knowing that will one day be me.

Basically, I experimented with the device, which is recommended for long car rides, concerts and the great outdoors. You take your pants down, place the silicon funnel beneath your lady parts and pee into it, where it will flow out into the toilet, on the ground, or the mouth of whomever you wish.

$10 for one device might be hefty—the Web site boasts that the funnels are reusable, because that’s not gross, but still, if you’re a girl on the go, “ur ine” for a treat.

Sick and tired of your cheap Forever 21 jewelry disintegrating before you even get it to the sales counter? Why not try Human Ivory jewelry, the jewelry that will actually last forever because its made out of human toe nails dipped in resin. What will they think of next? Poo-lery—the jewelry made from excrement?

The brainiacs over at ThinkGeek have discovered the nectar of the 21^st century man: Baconnaise– the dual bacon/mayonnaise condiment that should be slathered on everything from sandwiches to celery sticks.

The only catch? It’s vegetarian. How does that make sense?

I recently wrote an article about the wonderful world of squirrels and came across this product for the furry rodents:  Squirrel Underpants.

For only $9.50, you can help “protect the world from squirrel nudity,” according to the Web site. I don’t even know.

Obviously it’s a joke product, but still. What’s the point? I could buy a five-pack from Target for the same price, and who’s to say that all squirrels prefer briefs?

One of the perks and banes of journalism school is being forced to know what’s happening in the world.

Through Redmanthatcould, I get my important porn news of the day, like this video that will most likely get you fired or make your neck feel really funny.

I subscribe to a zillion newspapers through my phone and also check out the Huffington Post semi-regularly. On top of that, since I’m on the magazine track, I get a bunch of magazines that have yet to be opened. Truthfully, I mostly cut out pictures and paste them on my walls, kindergarten style.

My teachers have also stressed the importance of getting news from a variety of sources. Apparently, there is more information out there than what CNN provides. In fact, there is a whole entire bizarro world of “news” called Foxnews.com, and boys and girls, it’s an amazing sphere of published nonsense.

I found this article today while perusing the internet. It comes from “Hannity’s America.”

Blast From the Past

A mystery billboard in Minnesota is turning heads along I-35 just outside the city of Wyoming. The massive sign shows the 43rd President of the United States George W. Bush waving at drivers as they pass by asking, “Miss Me Yet?”

But the real question on the minds of a lot of Minnesotans is: Who’s behind this ad campaign and, frankly, whose side is that person on?

The general manager of the ad agency that leased the billboard told Minnesota Public Radio that it was “paid for by a group of small business owners who feel like Washington is against them. They wish to remain anonymous.”

I think a lot of Americans all across the country have the answer to the question on that billboard: Yes, President Bush, we miss you. Come home.

Turns out, several websites confirm it is real, but the shocking revelation about this brief is that there are actual people out there who “miss” the former president.

The mystery behind the board however is whether it’s a jab at Bush or Obama. Hannity seems to think it’s the latter. This is the baffling part.

Since when did people suddenly forgive Bush for his idiocracy? Did I miss something? Has a year’s worth of Obama transgressions really been tantamount to nearly a decade of Bush-shit?

Can’t help but wonder if Bush’s sudden resurgence of popularity has anything to do with Rahm Emanuel’s “retard” snafu—say suggesting that retards should be treated better?

You all know what’s happening. You see it taking over the supermarkets, the florists, even the dentist’s office: Hearts. Everywhere.

We call this epidemic of red and chocolate, Valentine’s Day, and it can either be a source of bliss or agony, depending on your fragile state of mind.

Despite the plethora of books out there that declare people to own their single status, let’s face it, most people aren’t completely satisfied with their vibrators or Youporn.

The trouble is Valentine’s Day stigmatizes this one group rather cruelly. This scarlet lettering has inspired restaurants to hold anti-Valentine’s Day themed dinners for bitter women. Chocolate cake and sorrow for dessert. I’ve been to a couple. Imagine restaurants filled with grimacing vodka-infused women and confused bus boys.

In Japan, it’s worse. Instead of one day of emotional suffering, the country decided to create a complementary holiday called “White Day” on March 14. Valentine’s Day in Japan is exclusively for men. Women will buy ludicrously priced chocolates for their true loves, who will hopefully return the favor on White Day, with even more lavish presents. The first White Day, celebrated in 1978, was concocted by a delicious candy company that has been earning very sweet profits since.

I love relationships, especially with good, sexy people. But I have never really been the type of person to agonize over being single’s on Valentine’s Day. I’m certainly not a subscriber to those endless survival guides that teach lonely people how to cope with the day’s chocolatey bittersweet loneliness. Why do they need to be called survival guides? Do we really get that close to death if we spend this day alone?

If you want to be in love, you should want it. And I think it’s perfectly okay to admit that you like love.

On the other hand, if you want reasons to embrace your singleness, I just happened to jot down a few perks right here:

1. A new study of couples found 56 percent of young adults in new sexual relationships were infected with HPV. The risk of contracting a disease has always been my favorite reason for not hooking up. And who enjoys the awkward, “Can you please just not get that into me?”

2. None of your friends will resent you. For those of you in loving, committed relationships that resemble picture frame stock photos, single people hate you, sorry.

3. Most people don’t care about Valentine’s Day. You’d think with all the hoop-la surrounding the holiday, that it was the second coming of Christ, but really, it’s mostly Walgreens that exaggerates the holiday. Valentine’s Day used to be a big deal in 5th grade when we made valentines for our classmates and ate heart-shaped cookies. As Chet Baker once eloquently crooned, “the thrill is gone.”

4. There’s no pressure. I’ve always felt an incredible amount of pressure to celebrate amazing Valentine’s Days with guys. I helped my friend’s boyfriend plan an insanely romantic hullalbaloo for her, complete with Tiffany jewelry! When a partner’s sentiment doesn’t match yours, or if it’s simply a letdown, there’s really nothing worse.

5. You can be with someone if you really want it. As of 2002, there are 904 dating service establishments all available to serve you and find you a potentially suitable mate. Apparently it works too: $489 million in revenues. Or if you’re a millionaire, you should really visit the Millionaire Matchmaker, who is the most entertaining crazy person I’ve ever seen on t.v. Apparently, she has a 99 percent success rate, which makes about as much sense as this astrologer who has a money-back guarantee if a spell doesn’t work.

Still I personally don’t advocate singledom.

I love being in love, and I think that there is nothing more ideal than finding your soul mate.  More than the candy, flowers, and expensive four-course dinners, I prefer the free massages.

Because on the off chance that the chocolates are fruit-filled disasters, the flowers are carnations and dinner comes from the drive-thru, you can always ask for a massage to make up for everything else.

I wasn’t sure it was possible, but there’s someone I hate more than Carrie Prejean–it’s her mom, Francine. Billy Bush interviews the elder Prejean on his show where she calls Larry King a little wimp for being put in his place by her 22 year old daughter. Put in his place– of course– refers to when the beauty queen made headlines by refusing to answer Larry’s questions about why she chose to settle her lawsuit with the Miss America pageant. Donning an eerie pageanty frozen smile, Carrie repeatedly told Larry he was being inappropriate with his questions regarding her settlement. She got so agitated, that she stopped talking altogether and began conversing with someone off screen. She would have left the interview too, if she had been able to figure out how to remove the microphone. Sadly, what the pundits say about her intelligence, seems all too true.

At least now, we know where she gets it from.

Listen to Francine here.

Take one part Oprah, one part Tyler Perry, and one giant part Mo’Nique, and you’ve got Lee Daniels’ Precious– and it will tear you apart.

I’m not a huge girly girl, but I was bawling ten minutes into the film. Precious isn’t just sad, it’s downright abysmal.

For those of you out there who have no idea what I’m talking about, Precious is a film based on the novel Push by Sapphire, a former Harlem public school teacher-cum-novelist. It is a fictionalized account of her experiences teaching inner city youth. Push achieved every author’s wet dream of success when it was inducted into Oprah’s Book Club.

Precious, played by a riveting Gabourey Sidibe, is the title character of the film who may quite possibly be the unluckiest girl in history. She’s overweight, has an abusive mother, two children fathered by her own father, and she’s illiterate. I don’t want to spoil the rest of the film— but things go kind of downhill from there. Frankly, her story makes those starving children in Somalia look pretty well off.

When Precious gets kicked out of school for being pregnant, she starts attending an alternative school called “Each One, Teach One,” where she meets her beautiful lesbian mentor/teacher Blu Rain (Paula Patton), who encourages her to keep a journal where she can jot down her inner most thoughts.

Her thoughts are interludes of fantasy sequences from handsome boyfriends and a loving mother to nightmarish flashbacks of an abuse ridden past. Daniels effectively emphasizes the differences of both in his film making, switching from light-hearted music numbers during her fantasies to gritty realism during the rape scenes. Well, I assume he did. I had to cover my eyes during the latter.

The biggest surprise in Precious, though, is her mother Mary, played by the insanely talented Mo’Nique (no, I never thought I’d say that ever) who won a special grand jury prize at Sundance for her role. You have never seen a woman so broken, so sadistic, so in pain, and so out of touch with the world around her. It’s uncanny really and quite masterful. For anyone who has ever thought acting was easy, Mo’nique is a force that will convince you otherwise. She may be the best and most convincing reason to spend $12.

I’ve found that people generally are really eager to see the film or totally dread it. In today’s culture, there is no shortage of depressing things, so this is not the film for those of you who need an upper or are already suicidal.

Why was I so eager to see Precious?

Easy. Oprah is God. And everything she touches is precious.

My first adventure in Nepal led me to to the top of a mountain in one of the lesser known Rookum district in the Western Terai. With my guide Budrie (we communicated successfully 50% of the time), we began with a 25 hour bus trip and then 2 days of ferocious trekking through stunning rice paddies, mountain scape, and shanty towns to arrive to the capital city of Calalinga in Rookum, a part of Nepal that no Tourist has ever heard of.

My goal was to meet, find, and potentially rescue a family of siblings who had recently been orphaned by the annual diarrhea or cholera epidemic that comes at the outset of every monsoon season (late spring). This year’s cases numbered in the thousands, and fatality rates have reached triple digits.  When Papa Michael (Director of Papa’s House: volunteernepal.com) shared an article in the Himalayan Times about 6 orphans, the oldest– 13, who was left with the job of taking care of all her siblings after both parents died from cholera, I knew that I had to do something. For those of you who are pretty dumb (just kidding!, I didn’t know what it was before I came to Nepal either), cholera is a disease that is pretty much eradicated in the world, except for in developing nations like Nepal. It is a water borne disease that causes a large amount of watery diarrhea. Treatment is relatively cheap and effective, but in rural regions of Nepal, there is little to no education, money, or outreach to help those affected.

Papa’s House arranged a last minute trip/rescue operation to try and meet the journalist who would hopefully lead me to the orphans. If it was possible, I would bring them back to Kathmandu so they could the join Papa’s House Family.

I prepared for my trip to combat cholera, bugs, by arming myself with a lot of anti bacterial sanitizer, three pairs of
surgical gloves, and a laptop computer.  Little did I know that none of these things would be necessary for what I encountered.  After the 3 day harrowing journey just to meet the journalist, I was shocked to discover that the orphans would require an additional 7-8 day hike to reach, as they lived in a very remote part of the district.

Additionally, the journalist, who was once captured by Maoists, proved to be less than grateful for my efforts.  He seemed wary of me and Papa’s House and informed me that a financial donation (via him) would be a more effective way to help the orphans. And, to go into a region with such rampant cholera (where even health workers were fleeing) without medicine or money was pointless. It was devastating.  The entire time, I was thinking– This could have all been settled with a quick phone call. But we were in Nepal, a country where rolling black occur daily; why would cell phone service be any better?

However, the journalist did manage to set up a a small meet and greet with a local military official the next morning, who was able to give me some numbers and data regarding the epidemic… as well as some other interesting information:

The official had also read the same Himalayan Times article and was shocked by the story of the orphans. While he was appreciative of my efforts, having come all the way from America to rescue these kids, he too, was moved by the story and said he sent military helicopters to undergo a search and rescue for the family a week prior.  However, he found nothing.  Yup. NOTHING. He questioned whether

or not the orphans even existed, and implied that journalists sometimes make up stories like this one to gain sympathy or make the government look bad.

Meanwhile, my journalist is sitting right next to me (the one who met the children and wrote the story about the children) and Budrie (my translator) is sitting on the other side, probably absorbing 50% of the conversation.

I looked at my cup of tea an wondered if I had lost my mind. Later on, I asked Budrie what could have possibly happened. The two were completely negating each others’ stories… Budrie looked at me quizzically and offered, Maybe the kids disappeared? Thanks, Budrie. That’s helpful.

So that was my final explanation. A mysterious disappearance, an potentially unethical journalist, a shady government official, and me at the top of a mountain, wondering just how this story was going to end.

It turns out, that was my ending. After being asked for official documents that I didn’t have, I was expected to leave politely, and head back down the mountain, empty handed without kids and answers.

As painful as it was to feel a sense of failure and confusion, it was eye opening and remarkable to learn and experience what communication is like in Nepal. With limited email, phones, cell phones, and mail, people make must make pain staking efforts to get information, which oftentimes, is still marred with inaccuracies.

What I learned from my adventure is that information is the key to solving these problems.  You can rescue orphans, but the true gift is preventing them from becoming orphans in the first place.  Health education (especially in rural, lower caste areas) is vital and hopefully the aim of my next visit to Nepal.

In other news, I’m back and happy… and living in New York City. (Kinda like that other salsa from those old Pace Picante Salsa commercials)

I’m spending the summer in Nepal — doing stuff that’s none of your business. I may die. I may live. It really depends on how good I am at sweet talking those pesky Maoists.  Seeing as I have never even been able to get out of speeding ticket, chances may be slim.

Currently, enjoying hour 8 of my 10 hour layover in Hong Kong, and I just had to share with you some of the amazing things I’ve been experiencing thus far.

1. It’s 1000 degrees here. I am literally in a melting pot. And I am dead.  After being in the airport and in vehicles for close to fifteen hours, I longed to inhale real life air. Little did I know, that real life air here tastes like steaming hot B.O.

2. I visited a mall called Harbour City. It’s HK’s biggest mall boasting over 2 million sq feet of retail space. 2 million. This is great for someone who really dislikes shopping. I think it’s the city’s favorite hobby.  Needless to say, I was lost for about two hours…  I did find a bunch of Indian guys milling around the malls trying to hawk stuff. I dunno what… but they were targeting young girls that looked like me.  Anyone know what this is? Perhpas HK’s version of selling star maps on Sunset?

3. There is a toilet restaurant called Modern Toilet where you sit on toilets and food is also served in toilet dishes. Oh yea, and if you get the ice cream, it looks like poo. As God is my witness, I am going to visit this place before I’m back in September.

4. Also, am planning to visit the first modelled to scale Noah’s Ark located in Ocean Park. Though, how does anyone know how big it was supposed to be?  People, Noah fit 2 of each animal on earth on that thing. I’m just sayin…

5. HK is very foreigner friendly. Everyone speaks english (it’s actually one of the official languages), and no one gropes you physically. Only with their eyes. It’s kinda nice.

I’ve never been too into porn. Maybe it has to something to do with my irrational fear of penises, which developed soon after Red Man that Could scarred my brain when he gave me my first gay porn starring the very talented Cody Cummings.

Aside from the sporadic Hotel Erotica or Cathouse episode, my exposure to adult cinema has been fairly lackluster. Additionally, I’ve never gotten into it– maybe it’s because I’m not ultra fond of watching ugly naked people go at it. Just not my cup of tea– I guess.

That is– until now. Turns out I do enjoy me some voyeurism, but reading about it, only. Maybe it’s a terrible side of effect of all that book learnin’ I did in my youth.

Ashley and me details the salacious affairs of a married man with graphically meticulous play by plays — deliciously sinful literary porn if you will.  Think Danielle Steel meets Dave Sedaris meets hard core sex. It’s like nothing I’ve ever read before, and it’s pretty freaking amazing.

Riff Dog is the adulterous star and “me” of Ashley and Me, who blogs his lascivious trysts with the various women he meets on AshleyMadison.com.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Ashley Madison (AM) (like I was), it is a co-ed dating (or affair, if you want to get technical) service for those who are married or in relationships. The clever tag line reads: Life is Short, Have an Affair. This service, which essentially advocates adultery, has been berated on numerous television and news programs for trying to destroy relationships and families. See a clip here.

CEO Noel Biderman denies any wrong doing, and insists that the site is totally legal and legitimate.  In fact, in a recent interview, he claims that adultery can save a monogamous relationship. Nearly 4 million members worldwide seem to agree.

Membership to AM is free and you basically pay for upgrades, such as virtual gifts (think Facebook gifts), personalized messages, and premium memberships.

Riff Dog, a premium member, describes himself as a 6’5, handsome, athletic, white professional in his 40′s.  Married with children, he paints a sob story of how his wife is ill and how he would never leave her for any of his other girlfriends.  Clearly, he’s quite the gentleman.

What is so addicting about Ashley and Me are not only Riff Dog’s numerous sexcapades, which read as easily as an X-rated version of Twilight, but the Dog is actually a really talented writer.  Even when he’s not describing wet hot sex, his humor, charm, and wit really come alive in his entries.  You feel like you’re right there with him as he’s making some girl climax for the tenth time.  It’s strangely surreal, and gross, but still kinda cool. Additionally, his self critical jabs– he readily admits to being a dog– somehow makes him seem more human, likable, and forgivable.

Not that I condone adultery or anything. In fact, I wouldn’t hesitate to go Lorena Bobbit on a boyfriend should he decide to join AM one day.

Oh yeah, and apparently, he is quite talented in the bedroom, or pool table as well:

She puts her arms around me. As I suck her tongue into my mouth. My fingers making their way once again into her hair. Pulling her head back again. So I can kiss her neck now. I open my mouth against the front of her neck and slide my lips up and down it.

Her moan is different now. Lower pitched. This is her spot. I keep sliding my lips up and down her neck, but a little harder. More moans. I grab her hair a little tighter. And keep sliding my lips on her neck.

While my other hand reaches down to the hem of her dress. I pull it up with my thumb. And put my hand on the inside of her thigh. Then up. Until my index finger is just to the edge of her panties. And already making it’s way under. She’s already so wet. I run the tips of my fingers between her pussy lips. Up and back. So, soooo wet.

Then in one motion, I push my middle finger deep inside her, all at once. “Oh, God!” she gasps.

Breathe. Yes. That just happened, and there’s more here.

A convenient sidebar organizes Riff Dog’s affairs into chronological chapters, so new fans can get up to date easily.  Users are also invited to comment on posts– surprisingly, he has a strong female fan base as well.

In fact, Riff Dog’s latest conquest, Gabriela, was an avid blog fan, before she joined AM and met the Casanova in person for a NC-17 rated lunch date. Here’s a taste:

Gabriela now turns towards me, no longer worried about any passers by. She starts unbuttoning my pants. Looking so focused. And succeeds in “freeing me.”

I’m not sure how good an idea this is. There are no tablecloths in this restaurant. We’re pretty “out in the open” should anyone else walk past.

Naturally, as an investigative journalist, I felt compelled to delve deeper into Riff Dog’s dogly persona and try to find him myself. After signing up for AM with my own secret identity, I set myself up to find this literary sex god lover… for research purposes only, of course!

Based on the physical description he gives about himself on the site, the feat has proved rather difficult.  There are thousands of over 40, white, and professional cheaters over 6 feet tall in Los Angeles alone.

But I’m not the only one searching for a lover. After I set up my profile, which basically reveals nothing about me except that I’m 5’7 and live in the Valley (both of which aren’t exactly true), I get 7 winks (which are kinda like pokes from Facebook), get added to 2 favorite lists, and receive messages from 10 interested users. I don’t even have a picture up.

This is after I’ve been a member for less 24 hours.  Turns out that Riff Dog isn’t the only dog in town. Apparently anonymous sex with strangers is still a guy’s favorite past time.

I suspect it will take me a while (if ever) to learn the true identity of Riff Dog. In the meantime, we’ll just have to wait and read.

Welcome to a time when most good news comes in the form of other people’s bad news.

I cannot explain why it seems human nature takes such immense pleasure from other people’s misfortunes, except that I am 100% guilty of it. In the vein of F-mylife.com and other sites that are vehicles for public ranting and embarrassment, welcome KissandDish.com, a confession website that focuses strictly on romance and dating.

Posts are conveniently grouped into different categories: hookups, finding love, good dates, bad dates, advice, and more love related nonsense. Kiss and Dish is still relatively new, so there isn’t a whole lot of content yet, but there is a dedicated community committed to helping this site grow daily.

Now for my confession: I don’t like this site. AT ALL.

I really wanted to too. I’ve heard such good things about it, but I just couldn’t get into it.  For starters, the stories are way too long. They read a lot like rambling from high school diaries, and while that was really profound back in junior year, nowadays, I just want to laugh and get to the point fast. None of this listlessly going on for a hundred pages talking about your math homework and the color of trees. In fact, most of the confessions read like the essays I used to write when I was doped up on mushrooms. Not my finest work.

Secondly, the confessions aren’t all that interesting. They remind me a little of those embarrassing moment sections from teen magazines, except not as good. I filtered through ten stories looking for one to post here that might be noteworthy, but alas, I couldn’t. I’m sure there were a few diamonds in the rough, but I eventually gave up. I think I would have had better luck finding WMDs in Iraq. A bit of advice: add a “best of” section.

The best and only part of the website that I could actually get through was the about the authors page. I like reading people’s profiles–a habit cultivated by many years of Facebook and Myspace stalking. I liked hers:

Personally, I still prefer Fmylife for short and sweet confessions and horrific moments.  Perhaps, I also feel that my love-scapades cause enough trauma in my life– I don’t need to suffer through anyone else’s.

Kiss and Dish does, however, link to two of my new favorite websites: Manslations.com and Hookingupsmart.com.  Manslations is for girls who are constantly on the impossible quest of deciphering male behavior, while Hooking Up Smart dispenses practical guidance, love, and advice from a former ho, who’s settled down into ho-maker.  Both these sites are about a thousand times funnier, wittier, and well written than Kiss and Dish.

(Sorry to dish out tough love.)

Thus far, I have discovered that there are many occasions in which I threaten impending death. “If that happens, I will die” has become one of my favorite overused statements. Here is a short list of some of the situations where I should have died, (but miraculously didn’t):

1. If I sit in traffic for more than 5 minutes
2. If I get a parking ticket
3. If he doesn’t call
4. If I’m late
5. If I walk one more step
6. If there is no more mustard
7. If I don’t get into Columbia
8. If I don’t book that commercial
9. If they forgot the hot sauce
10. If you make me drink that Orange Vitamin Water
11. If it rains
12. If it’s cloudy
13. If I don’t go to the bathroom right now
14. If I don’t get an A
15. If I get a C
16. If I can’t pay my credit card bill
17. If he farts
18. If my boobs don’t grow
19. If you eat the last chicken McNugget
20. If I fail my drivers test twice

I probably utter this phrase, once an hour, which means that I technically should have died about a million by now. Clearly, somebody up there likes me.

Coming soon:  “I will kill you if you…” reasons