Can You Lose Your Virginity To A Dildo? from Pot Psychology on Vimeo.

The film also highlights a program that gets it right, the New York City Gynecological Teach Associates, in which specially trained women talk medical students through a pelvic exam on their own bodies. The independent film still needs to raise money for the editing and distribution process; you can learn more here.


At Your Cervix [Official Site]

A Pot Psychology Summer: Looking Back At The Things You Never Saw from Pot Psychology on Vimeo.

"Is Believing In Creationism Grounds For A Breakup?" from Pot Psychology on Vimeo.

Vesna's Burger — Big Brother Uncut [YouTube]

P.S. We like pictures because they're easier than reading, so feel free to send some our way.

Studies show that a walk in the park reduces tension. Apparently this works especially well if you do it in your undies, a la Anne Heche.

If that doesn't work, try hypnotherapy. Glamour helpfully illustrates this technique phrenologically, plotting a woman's bad habits directly on her forehead. Good to know that while my anxiety comes from right under my hairline, my stress comes from just above my ear.

But if none of this works, perhaps the problem is those troublesome menses. If your bloating, irritability, and acne have gotten so bad that they are actually projecting enormous teal lettering in front of your face, try Yaz. Yaz is the young, fun birth control pill that makes you blast white light out of your vagina. Your vagina is Cyclops now. Enjoy. [Glamour]

I'm not the only one who sees the Indy flicks as dentata dramas. According to one Mr. Cranky on his eponymous website, "The climax of Temple of Doom is the key. The offerings made to the female God include a human sacrifice lowered down a canal into a pit of red hot lava. When Kate Capshaw is tied to the contraption and lowered, Indy's Willie is threatened. His Willie's entrance into the canal equals death, and Indy will have none of that."

Mr. Cranky also points out that Temple of Doom highlights Indy's overwhelming fear of being emasculated. A thread that goes throughout the four films is Indy's fear of snakes. It seems that our big, conquering superhero is threatened by external, slithering phalluses! In the Crystal Skull, at one point, Shia LeBouf's character asks Indy to "grab onto his snake," to get Indy out of a pit of quicksand. Indy is not exactly thrilled about it.

In the Last Crusade, Indiana Jones gets that adorably virile scar beneath his lower lip from whipping himself as an inexperienced teen. Considering all that dentata evidence, I think he got the scar from some other, more sensually barbed exploration.

Indiana Jones And The Temple of Doom [Mr. Cranky]

Earlier: Indiana Jones 4: The Kingdom of The Crystal Dull

P.S. No animals were drugged in the making of this video.

P.S. No animals were drugged in the making of this video.

Click on thumbnails to view clips:

Jezebel Crashes The Tyra Show's Vaginas Episode
Three Jezebel editors (Moe, Jennifer and I) tried to go see Tyra's interview with Barack Obama, but instead we ended up as part of the studio audience for her "Vagina Dialogues" episode, in which we watched a woman use a vagina puppet to explain that we have two holes down there! Who knew?

103-Year-Old Woman Tugs At Tyra's Weave
Hands down, my absolute favorite episode of Tyra, if only because one of the old ladies, a Holocaust survivor, tells Tyra that she's never seen anything like, well, Tyra. But it's also great because Tyra fiercely models an afghan one of the women gave her.

Mary J. Blige Dishes On PMS, Brazilian Waxes, & Her Mile High Club Membership On Tyra
This was a great interview, not so much because of TB, but because of how awesome Mary is.

Tyra's "Bodyville" Is More Like "Camel Toe City"
Tyra's "social experiment" about body image was a big, fat mess.

Who's More Sane: Tyra Banks Or Janet Jackson?
Tyra talked about Janet's big ass, danced like a maniac, and manhandled the pop star.

Tyra: "Chinese Face, No S-E-X Talk"
Best mother-daughter sex talk evs.

"In its mild form, men often take to their bed in the week following the birth, complaining of everything from a stomach ache or migraine," claims Dr. Odent. "And in the most graphic example, one perfectly healthy man had his first experience of schizophrenia two days after watching his wife give birth. Was this his way of escaping reality?" Normally, such a statement would have us laughing so hard we'd be curled up into the fetal position but another article — this from the much-respected Guardian — is reporting that male postnatal depression is not only a reality, but a harbinger of future child behavioral problems. Certainly, the story — which comes out of a study at the University of Bristol — makes absolutely no correlation between paternal depression and childbirth, but we have a feeling that Dr. Odent will be taking this latest news and running with it all the way to the NHS maternity wards.

A Top Obstetrician On Why Men Should NEVER Be At The Birth Of Their Child [Daily Mail]
Male Postnatal Depression Affects Child Behaviour, Study Shows [Guardian]

Related: A Perilous Journey From Delivery Room To Bedroom [NY Times]

Earlier this year, author Nancy Redd was asked to give her 2007 body-positive book 'Body Drama' to 250 teenage Hurricane Katrina survivors at a ceremony marking the 10th anniversary of the 'Vagina Monologues'. "I've harbored a major crush on Eve Ensler for over nine years," Nancy says. "Growing up with normal teenage angst and inadequate health education, I hated my vulva and I never referred to "down there" as anything other than a "hoo-ha". The Monologues were my introduction to feminism; nothing was more empowering to 18-year-old me than having a legit reason to scream "MY SHORT SKIRT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU!" and "IT'S SUPPOSED TO SMELL LIKE PUSSY!" to the world." Below, Nancy fills us in on everything that went down in the (very fertile) Crescent City over the weekend, where 18,000 participants raised awareness of violence towards women by giving love to vaginas and the amazing women who own them.

"We call her sultry and sexy when we crave her, but after when we want to demean her and dismiss her, we call her swampy and soiled."

"We brag about her music, the way she moves, we beg to get inside her, but disown her later when she has needs."

This year, Eve decided to concentrate the power of her tenth anniversary on the community who needs it the most: the women of New Orleans, who, as Ensler explains, have "survived the fallout of global warming, failure of public structures, racism, economic hardship, and domestic abuse." (She calls them "Katrina Warriors".)

As soon as we walked into the Superdome, we were overwhelmed by the Biggest. Vagina. Ever. Very hypnotizing, and reminiscent of Gene Simmons' tongue!

Right after I arrived at the arena on Friday, author Gabrielle Roth had everyone come to the front of the stage for a fifteen minute "ecstatic dance" designed to release grievances and to allow positive energy to flow. The crowd was LOVING it, and I wanted Gabrielle to crowd surf so badly, because we would have caught her and it would have been awesome.

Afterwards, I checked out the art that decorated the Superdome, created by activists from around the world. Pieces included the biggest bra ball ever...

...an activist comic titled "Fuck, I'm a Victim," and V-Day memorabilia from the past ten years. One really cool installment was the Intentions Hut, where people could go inside and write their dreams and goals and place them in a box aptly titled 'Intentions.' This is where I found out that nearly everyone working the event — from Rosario Dawson's assistant for the day to the translator for Congolese doctor Dr. Denis Mukwege — was a volunteer, and many were college students or retirees. (The volunteer manning the Intentions Hut told me that her husband took Eve Ensler to his prom!)

A large part of the decision to hold the anniversary event at the Superdome was to transform horrible memories for Katrina survivors into positive ones. To do this, V-Day created three healing stations for local women (with some services and samples open to everyone) on the upper levels. To get to the stations, which was also where the food was, everyone had to pass through a giant glowing vulva. Perhaps for rebirth?

Once upstairs, there were massage sessions, yoga classes taught by Rodney Yee and Colleen Saidman, and free haircuts and makeup application for Katrina survivors, who were truly enjoying all of the pampering.

There was also a jam-packed activism room full of creative and inspiring groups and organizations, like the women from SAFER, who displayed edgy t-shirts...

...and Rha Goddess, who offered her new book We Got Issues.

There were so many younger kids swarming around and it was heartwarming seeing them studying the artwork and questioning the activists about what they do.

One of the best stage presentations included a girl who looked to be about ten and who proudly exclaimed that in her life from now on, she was "going to ignore stupidity and claim self control." She is now my new role model.

There were quite a few guys (a.k.a. "V-Men") around, too, both as participants and spectators. Authors and activists Jimmie Briggs, who brought his proud mom and aunt (aw!), and John Prendergast chatted with Tara from CosmoGIRL! and myself in between adoring fans (of which there were many).

On Saturday morning, Asia Rainey, local activist and the force behind the Daughters of Hope Rites of Passage, gave us our cues and got us all charged up, and Eve Ensler came in to say hi to the giddy teens, who were nervous and thrilled about being onstage in front of so many people, where they recited skills they'd learned in mentoring classes.

A lot of the girls were super-amped about the fact that they were going to meet Kerry Washington afterwards, worrying that their cell phones wouldn't get good enough pictures. As I was lining up to go onstage to give my presentation — during which I gave a motivational speech and presented my book — I bumped into Dr. Mukwege, an amazing Congolese doctor who is at the forefront of next year's V-Day focus on stopping violence against women in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Even though I let loose with an embarrassing scream of glee and a big hug he was incredibly gracious, just chilling in the waiting room wearing a sparkly red feather boa around his neck. I was hoping he would keep it on for the whole evening but alas, he took it off before his Q&A with Eve.

Next up was a Hollywood panel with Kerry Washington, Rosario Dawson, Amber Tamblyn, and Ali Larter; it was a huge hit, and the ladies really opened up about a lot of the sexism and weight concerns that they deal with in the industry.

Women are actually lambasted for crazy things like their ARM size, y'all! When asked about racial stereotypes of females in the media, Kerry expressed her frustration about the few roles for black women that aren't maids or prostitutes, and said that when she had to play one of those roles she tried hard to make the character a real person and not just the stereotype. There were girls who started CRYING in the audience when the celebs came out, and a few teens were brave enough to sneak backstage to get hugs and pictures, and everyone was really cool and gracious about it.

For that evening's star-studded performance of the Vagina Monologues, the Superdome was packed and full of energy.

Eve's adopted son Dylan McDermott was sitting right in front of me next to one of his daughters.

For me, the Vagina Monologues are like My Big Fat Greek Wedding and other movie classics...even though I've seen 'em a million times and I have most of the lines memorized I still love watching from beginning to end. Seeing Eve perform live injected new life into the decade-old words, and I loved her vulva pantsuit.

The celebrities added an interesting flavor and there were some new monologues that had been introduced since the last time I did the show. After watching the touching monologue "They Beat the Girl Out of My Boy" in homage of the transgender experience, I had to Google one of the performers, Calpernia Addams, and I have found my new favorite time-killing video channel.

Towards the end of the performances, Jennifer Beals stole the entire show with her rendition of the crowd favorite "The Woman Who Loved to Make Vaginas Happy", aka "The Moaner".

Her and her backup moaners' renditions of the Irish Catholic orgasm moan "Oh, Oh, Oh PLEASE forgive me!" and the African-American moan "Oh SHIT! Oooooh SHIT! SHIT SHIT SHIT!" were absolutely hilarious.

At the afterparty at the W, I finally got a good look at Rosario Dawson's shoes and they were as I suspected - the infamous backward heels!

What's really funny is that earlier that evening, while we were both backstage, she seriously questioned whether or not my gold wedge heels were comfy. Anyway, she said her shoes felt fine but I wished I had asked her where she got them because my Google-fu is failing me and I NEED THOSE SHOES!

There was tons of food at the party, including made-to-order FREAKING chicken and waffles, y'all! (Eve and her people know how to throw a party.) Everyone was into the music and the atmosphere and the people and it was just a room full of hot, happy vaginas and their guy friends...a perfect end to an amazing weekend. Hope to see everyone in the Democratic Republic of Congo in 2009!

The V Day Event Of The Decade: V To The Tenth [V10.VDay.org]

Earlier:
"Here At The Hospital, We Have Seen Women Who Have Stopped Living"
New York Interviewer Accuses Vagina Book Author Of An "Anti-Waxing Slant"
Badass, Self-Described Feminist Jane Fonda Drops the C-Word On Today

Related: Body Drama [Amazon]

We started with the chocolate vagina kit, since it seemed a lot less complicated, seeing as how I didn't need to be aroused or anything. We had to mix this powder with lukewarm water, then pour it into this scoop thingy, and then press it up against my crotch, all in a span of two minutes, otherwise the stuff would've hardened and been useless.

I pressed it up against me and all of a sudden the excess mixture started pouring out the sides, running down my legs and getting all over the floor. It was all thick and creamy and it seriously looked like I had some kind of VD, or someone had just shot a lump load all over me.

Sorry for sharing that. Anyways, I started screaming because that shit was getting all over my floor (which I just mopped), so my boner donor ran and got a towel. And then we just started laughing maniacally. There I was, standing in my robe, a bra, and slippers with one hand on a dripping crotch and the other holding a glass of wine. I totally looked like Nelson Muntz's mom.

I had to hold the shovel up to my crotch for four minutes. After enough time had elapsed, I pulled it off (luckily, it didn't stick to my hair), and did not like what I saw. I don't mean to get all precious about my pussy or whatever, but this is not an accurate impression of it.

I guess there was a giant air pocket, so we peeled a dry piece of mixture up off the floor and stuffed it in there. We put the vagina mold in the freezer, per the directions, and then got to work on the chocolate dick kit.

Okay, I'm here's the thing about that: If you want a sexy, fun time, don't do this. It's really weird and mechanical and there's sooooooo much start and stop. For instance, first we had to cut the provided dick tube down to the size of his erection, so I had to blow him for a little bit so that we could figure out how long to make the tube, and then left him hanging there as I was hacking the tube down with scissors.

Then I had to combine the molding powder with water, using a thermometer to make sure it was 98º. I had two minutes to mix the stuff, pour it in the tube, get him hard again, and then shove his peen in there, all before the mixture hardened. It was really stressful, and also, impossible. We couldn't do it on our first try. First of all, my dog began humping my donor's leg, and she just wouldn't let go. And by the time I mixed the stuff and blew him, the mixture had hardened in the tube and he couldn't get his dick in there. So we had to start all over again.

This time, we were practically pros — a well-oiled machine of genital casters. He mixed the stuff and poured it in the tube, while I blew him until he was at full mast. Then he stuck it in the tube, and we waited for two minutes until it had set. (When we pulled it off his dick, it totally queefed!) We placed it in the fridge and then went to work on the dick candle kit.

At this point, we felt like we were sweatshop workers in a sex toy factory. We did the mixture/blow job routine again, and he jammed his dick in the tube. Except this time, we had issues of a different kind. His dick is curved, so it was hitting the side of the tube, so we turned it, as per the directions, so that all sides would be covered, but then a bunch of the stuff poured out, and there wasn't enough left in the tube to give him full coverage.

I was like, "Oh, well we can still do it, it'll just be a shorter candle."

"No way!" he said. "Tracie, I ain't goin' out like that." He insisted we start over, since he wanted it to be longest candle it could possibly be. At this point, with all the thermometers, measuring cups, bowls, powder and whatevs, my bedroom was starting to look like a meth lab.

We decided to take a break. All the stopping and starting of making out and oral sex and fingering that had been going on had proven to be really frustrating but also kind of an exciting form of foreplay, since we were repeatedly forced to put the breaks on. By the time we sat down on the bed together, we just started going at it, and after a few minutes, I was like, "Why don't we forget about the candle for now and you just fuck me." So he did. Twice.

In the morning, I melted the chocolate to put in the molds. They were expired or something and were all white. They look like Junior Mints but they're not.

I poured the melted chocolate into the molds and let them set for 5 minutes. My vulva came out looking like a diseased turd.

I'd like to take the time to reiterate that it DOES NOT LOOK LIKE THAT IN REAL LIFE. Got it?

And here's the cocklate:

I told you he was curved!

[Image via Oh! My God! I Miss You]

1.) It Feels Better Without a Condom
You know, people really get on their high horse when it comes to using condoms. Here's the thing: You know those PSAs or HBO Families in Crisis movies about the importance of safe sex? And there's always a guy who's like slimy and tries to sweet-talk his girlfriend into having sex without a condom because "it feels better." Well, he's right. It totally does feel better. I know, know! Condoms are important for many reasons and you should wear them. But for me, it feels way more natural without one and I'm much less likely to get a UTI. And if he re-ups and is able to fuck you again, and you guys go through with foreplay again, it doesn't taste as gross when you go down on him.

2.) Queefing
We've been over this. But in addition to what was already discussed, I'd like to add that you probably won't need to worry about queefing the first time, because most likely, you're so new down there that you're pretty much airtight.

3.) Location, Location, Location
Your pussy is prime real estate. If your body were a Monopoly board, your clit and vadge would be Boardwalk. A lot of guys don't know what the hell they're doing, and sometimes they just poke their dick around blindly. Make sure you guide them to the front hole, 'cause If he accidentally jams it in your butt or your taint, and you're not ready for it, you're not gonna like the way it feels. Trust! Which brings me to number four...

4.) Lube, Lube, Lube
This is seriously the most important thing for D in the V. (Or B...but no butts yet, I said!) Ideally, you want to be so turned on that your vadge is naturally wet, but that might not happen the first few times, for whatever reason (nervousness, fear, etc.) So just make sure you have a bunch of lube on hand. However, if you got a lot of bottled lube down there, you shouldn't attempt doggy style, because all that stuff will get in your pee hole and it will give you the mother of all UTIs.

5.) Tampons Will Fit Better After
No joke. They really will. I was never able to get tampons up there before I lost my virginity, probably because I was too tense whenever I tried. But the weekend after I did it for the first time (and the second, and third, and fourth, and so on), I decided to try to insert a slender/regular, even though I didn't have my period. Not nearly as much resistance and I was able to get the entire thing up there.

So there you go! Now, if you ever get around to it, you won't be so lost when you actually try to fuck. Just remember to be safe and wear a condom. (Even though, yeah, it feels better without it.)

For Guy Virgins: Basic Things No One Told Me About Sex [Dating Groundwork]

Earlier: Queefs: What's The Etiquette For Dealing With Air Up There?

But there's plenty you can experience on the site for free, like the test, "How well does my vagina measure up?" In the interest of science, I got out a ruler and a makeshift dipstick in order to determine the length of my vagina, the width of its opening, and the length of my "erected clitoris."

I'm no stranger to putting my labia to work for this site. And though I'm not exactly sure if I measured everything correctly (there were no instructions on how to do so), after I completed the test, these are the results I got:

The quality of your vulva is of 77.5 points. Based on the answers that you have provided, your Vulva and Vagina is [sic] of average quality.

The Vagina Institute
'Honey! Your Vagina Needs A Mint' [The F-Word]
Earlier: Pimp My Vadge

So the awesomest thing happened. When Tyra was dancing around like a lunatic in front of Chris Brown, the jumpsuit that she was wearing split up the ass. She said the split was this big:

So instead of changing or whatever, she decided to just tie a sweater around her waist, like she got her period and it leaked all over or something.

Periods + Tyra = a dry weave joke somewhere.

And this doesn't really have much to do with anything, but when I saved my video file before recording her date rape episode, I named it "the rapist," but you know, for file purposes, there were no spaces, so it looked like "therapist." I felt they were both oddly fitting.

One of the things that "touched" Tyra was hearing that a 28-year-old registered nurse had never gotten a gynecological exam. So TyTy went with her to help ease her nerves. And she brought a camera and crew with her...into the effing exam room! Could you imagine what it must've been like to have this woman with you when you had no pants on?

So the thing that really pissed me off was that we had to fill out these diagrams of a vagina while waiting to enter the studio. Then, once we were seated for the taping, the PAs collected them from us in large shopping bags and carted them away. Approximately 4 minutes later, Tyra started a segment in which she says that the studio audience was tested and the results were tallied and that only 11% of us knew what all the parts of the vagina are.

There's just no way that happened. Why did they bother having us fill that shit out anyway? It's fine that they wanted to make it look organic in a way, but then I was sort of offended when Tyra was like berating the audience about it, like we're the idiots.

I was really psyched that Moe, Jennifer and I actually made it on camera a bunch of times. But Moe was the only one blessed enough to actually be in the same frame as Tyra. That's Moe, top-right.

Seriously, if that were me I'd make it my Christmas card. I guess the only thing left to do is live vicariously:

Well, unless you count this shot:

That's a framer: