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 Everything's 3D these days - Toy Story, Avatar, Nicholas Cage, and even online pornography. A couple months ago Maxim did a 3d photospread, but it just made my eyes hurt; I can't imagine blue-red anaglyph video would be any better. Hell, after a while my eyes can't focus on regular porn anyway, how is this going to be any better? All you're asking for is a two-foot long penis thrusting out of your TV at you, and that's an LSD flashback I'd like to avoid.
 She sat up from the bath when she heard the door open. Her hands covered her nipples, lest the wrong person see them -- it was only me, so I suggested she uncover those. "Not until you come a bit closer," she said. I took two steps,and she shook her head. Two steps closer... 
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 As part of an exhibit dedicated to the Triumph motorcycle, designers took spare parts from the bikes and made new things - like this awesome Triumph turntable:
It's pretty much just an Ariston RD80 transcription turntable with the platter replaced by the brake rotor of a Triumph, which will probably wreck the turntable's motor due to weight and inertia after a while, but, hey, with that kick-ass Triumph thing bolted to the side in such a way as to prevent the cover from closing, it - um, crap, how could somebody take two things like an RD80 and a Triumph and make something that sucks? They could have added some racing stripes to make it sound faster, too.
 Lady Gaga, everybody's favorite Jem and the Holograms villain, has come out with a signature perfume that reportedly carries the scent of blood and semen, or, in Gaga's own words, smells like Paris Hilton's career. Seriously, it's a little too close to the smell of gay sex, which might appeal to to the noses of some men, but is otherwise not the kind of thing for a gal to wear to the club. By 11pm, most bars smell like that anyway.
 When a dentist wants you to get comfortable, they turn down the lights, turn on soothing music, and make sure their boobs are popping out. A dentist in Germany - proving Germans are awesome sexy - put all of the sexy, sexy dental hygienists in dirndls. " The sight of cleavages gets patients narcotised and distracted from the pain rather quickly." says the dentist, whose website shows nearly 100% female staffing...except for poor, poor Silvan Eichenseer. I bet his dirndl puckers in all the wrong places.
 Now, if you look really closely, you'll see that Nicki Minaj is actually wearing some very subtle facepaint. You'll have to stare long and hard, because it can be hard to see with all the distracting details in the rest of the photo:
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These will appear in something called V Magazine, but I warn you, they're actually lizards underneath their skin and the lady from Lost knows the secret!
 It's a fact, everybody: the insides of people's ears are erogenous zones. Not the curly part you can see - it's the place you touch deep, deep inside your skull that you can only reach with Q-tips. Gracie always tells me that I make an "O Face" when cleaning out my ears and she is fucking right. What I didn't know is that there's places you can go and have other people clean out your ears for you. If that's not two inches away from prostitution, I don't know what is. From the article, " There are stories of customers leaving wives for ear pickers and a life of in-home ear pleasure." Now that's what I would have liked to see in the movie Pretty Woman. Guy falling for cheap hooker with big teeth? Who cares. Guy falls for chick who touches his brain via his ear canal? That's a god-damned keeper right there.
Ashley Madison, the 'duh' in 'online daters are often married', can't air their commercial during the Superbowl. How come? Too much man-on-bunny sex. 
Oh, the humanity! When will all the sexy sex end!?!? Alas, the family-friendly NFL needs to have some standards, so that's why they're having red-carpet coverage and some fucking stupid-ass Obama/O'Reilly interview during the preshow. It's good they're keeping it all about the football, and keeping lesbian kisses out of the commercial breaks. Well, unless it's in a beer commercial.
 Sailor Jerry is a legendary tattoo artist, and there's a book out now. I've never heard of him, but there's apparently movie, and a store with a website that sells Sailor Jerry booze, and a wikipedia page, and who the fuck knows what else, so I suspect I'm supposed to know him as an Ed Hardy who could kick Ed Hardy's ass with both arms tied behind his back. As you may have noticed, I'm a fan of tattoos, but cutting through all the marketing crap sucks; it looks like, if I want to see tattoos, the book's the place to find it.
 The Frisky wants men to know that there's only 23 things you need to do to get a hot chick. First of all: Men, you are doomed to fail. If you wonder why women have unrealistic expectations for their partners, this is it, right here. "The imagination to surprise me" and "You gotta know how to make a woman feel like your sexy ideal" and "The sexual confidence to make the first move" are the kind of mind-reading shit that women don't realize is a hairs-breath away from being really creepy. No, she doesn't actually want to be treated like a sexual ideal that's ready for the first move and prepared to be surprised. This is Sixteen-magazine bullshit where they want a man who appears this way, but behaves chastely and respectfully. This is the kind of shit women wish for, but cut things off after date #2 because the guy's too much of an asshole, and lists the things he did to fulfill the Frisky list as cues for his crappiness.
Now, if the list cut out the mind-reading fantasy bullshit, it's not too bad. Primarily, it filters out the lazy jerkwads who are interested in being served by their partners. If a guy can't cook, doesn't own real furniture, or can't dress himself, that's a clue, ladies, that he's looking for a mom and a toy. Keep away from the fantasy shit, though (seriously, what dude has the money for a nice suit?) and the list is pretty good. The fact that they end it with the Old Spice ideal of the ideal man - he's on a horse! - proves that there's a higher bar here than humanly possible. Seriously, that dude was just on a boat, and now he's on a horse; that can't really happen.
As you might have noticed, basic-workmanlike things are what I like - and nothing's more basic and workmanlike than a simple shop apron like this one from Blackbird. Keep shit off your clothes and keep things clean; this ain't no baking-with-grandma apron:
A couple weeks ago, something amazing happened: The 8-track museum opened! Bucks Burnett, who does look vaguely like his cowboyesque name, is not just honoring the history of the 8-track, but he plans on reviving it by issuing new recordings under the on Cloud 8 Records label. Hopefully that means somebody'll start actually making 8-track players again, because I've only got three or four here and I can't part with any of them. That's all we need, though - a bunch of audiophile dicks arguing in message boards about how they can hear the density of the cartridge plastic thanks to their gold cables and high-grade electrical outlets and speaker stands made from the bones of Belgian orphans or some shit like that. The museum, at least, exists within something called a " Dolly Python", in the Dallas area.
Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and IMHO one of the more important holidays of our year. It's not necessarily about being black, but about stepping up and making the world around you a better place for those people around you, regardless of their categorical characteristics. What makes America great is the idea that we're a body of people who all contribute to make our country better each and every day. Seriously; the unknown neighbor who plowed my sidewalk while I was at work is part of it; having a black president is part of it; giving everyone - men, women, minorities, the poor, the sick, everyone - the right to vote is what we've got, and that kicks ass.
While we've climbed so very high and moved so many mountains in the past century, gone to the moon and created cable TV and made email that can circle the world and connect distant lands in an instant, there's still fuckheads like these, featured at PWSNT. It's Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and so many people don't get it - and it's not that they don't get it, but that they're so removed from this awesome world that in exercising their first-amendment rights they only show just how empty, scared, and painful their shitty lives are. Calling a spade a spade 1, showing on this fine day just how much is left to be remedied, must remind us to not rest on our laurels and continue what MLK Jr had in mind. I heard this at lunch, Cory Booker, Mayor of Newark, talking about what he thinks today is all about. Listen to him, fuck all the racist shitheads.
Tracy Clark-Flory of Salon wanted to know: what do modern people know about pornography, in our porn-saturated world? About as much as can be learned from an episode of Desperate Housewives, apparently. Despite having porn available at their fingertips at all times, modern women avoid porn and modern men are afraid to admit it in polite company. Well, duh, Making something more available due to modern communications don't change the society it lives within. Humans are prudes by nature; we hold our sex close to the vest because it's important to our existence. The fact that Girls Gone Wild exists is because the medium is more extensive, not because there's more stupid chicks willing to embarrass themselves. The people that fall into those categories - the sexually-willing woman and the unsatiable lothario - are the stereotypes that the porn industry lives off of. It doesn't turn people into those stereotypes. Videogames don't mess up our kids, rock-and-roll doesn't cause suicide, charged political rhetoric doesn't make people kill politicians, and more porn doesn't make more sex fiends. If anything, American society over the past twenty years goes further to prove that one single environmental factor doesn't fuck up a person's entire being. The diffusion of porn into everyday life only serves to make people money, and reduce the social stigma of the average level of porn appreciation. Unstigmatising the austere and ancient love for pornography is where we all win, yo! Cheers, let's go get a beer and some DP!
So, this month has Boobs McGee on the cover - seems like it happens every two or three months - and I come to find out that, horrors!, you can see right through her panties! The blogosphere, of course, was OUTRAGED! because you can see a faint outline of her welcome mat through the sheer fabric. Granted, even the SI Swimsuit Issue is smart enough to know that you put the porny bits inside, but this is Maxim, not rocket surgery.
The fact that Munn's belly button was completely photoshopped out is a sign that whatever you're seeing on the cover is a graphic designer's clone tool wet dream and not any actual Munniness. But - I got my issue about a week before the outrage, and I know if I were looking at the hottest pubes G4 ever unleashed on the world, I'd have noticed. So, I go get my copy:
FUUUUUUUUUUU-Fuck you, Maxim, and the horse you fucked in on. I pay good money for photoshopped sexpots, the least you can do is give me the good edition. The pube edition is even helpfully marked down in price, so if I had known I could get cheap Olivia Munn crotch, I might have left my copy of Maxim at the dentist's waiting room (like I usually do) and bought myself the good version. Now, dammit, it's just too late.
Here's a cool satin jacket for you: black-on-black details with stitching accents, it'll make you look like you won Satan's Dart Tourney. It's also designed by, like three different things, so its awesomeness must be multiplied.
Somebody with a CNC laser cutter got too close to the machine one day, and - bam - laser-perforated shirts were born. Poor Jeffrey, though, didn't make it - while his T-shirt looked awesome, they were still missing a few pieces of him when the coroner arrived. Anyhow, now there are awesome t-shirts that look kinda like 70s-perforated-jerseys, but in cool patterns. I, of course, want to see these on braless busty women, but I'm weird that way.
Ever wonder where all the tits are on Facebook? Right here, losers. None of them are your friends, of course; your Facebook profile has the problem of having friended your mom, so now half your friends are her coworkers and if some hottie with a rack were to friend you, you'd be embarrassed to reciprocate. Note that there are no naked tits, which makes this list kinda 'meh', but only has the benefit of allowing you to not look like the skeevy titwatcher at the bar.
Pale skin and dark hair were a stark contrast to her red lipstick. The suds undulated as she shifted her seating, lifting her pert breasts out of the water. "I'm almost done in here," she purred, "so you should be waiting in the bedroom for me..." 
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 As I announced a year ago, Lady Gaga is a creative director for Polaroid now. Eh, she's got ideas, that's a good thing. Now, she's actually produced a camera, much to everyone's amazement: the GL30. It looks sorta like the SX-70, and it does instant "inkless"(?) printing as well as saving digitally. Less practical but more awesome are the GL20 the GagaCamera Glasses. The GL30, looks practical and marketable; the GL20 looks cocksuckingly impractical and expensive. Who'd expect less from Gaga?
Turn off the fucking waterworks, ladies: SCIENCE! says that crying is a turnoff. And not just the act of crying: tears themselves are unattractive to men. Gracie mused on whether tears of joy would be different -- FUCK NO, tears at all mess up men's hormones. Note that the study found "six really good criers", who are, no doubt, the least sexually attractive women in the world. Who cares how good they look or how big their tits are. They smell like crying all the god damn time.
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