An intrepid Gizmag (presumably pronounced jizz-mayg) reporter has stuck his dick where few have ever gone: into a small machine that claims to replicate the sexual experience encoded in a POV video. The Real Touch sex toy apparently lives up to the hype - "eye-popping" according to the writer, and we all know which "eye" popped for him. And just look at it - isn't it cute? I suppose the crown and wig are extra, but who wouldn't add that on to their order?
Sexy Robot Party!
In Japan they love their robots, they love boobs, and they love seizure-producing flashing lights - so of course they turned it into a restaurant that is the AWESOMEST PLACE IN THE WORLD. You may have seen it elsewhere last fall, where pretty much all they talked about were the giant fembots, but look at the restaurant's official video. First, dinosaurs run out, then get beat up by robots. Then the robots get beat up by a bikini girl swinging Thor's hammer and using Captain America's shield. Then two cave girls riding a glyptodon fight the robots. Then the robots fight some pandas. Then Albert Einstein starts the chrome robot dance party. Then Bumblebee from Transformers shows up for some reason. Then more dance party robots until the giant lady robots show up. It's like somebody let an ADD 13-year-old boy write up the restaurant's business plan, and it turned out better than anyone expected.
Sex Cereal!
Wonder why you're not fucking with as much fervor as you have before? Feel like something's missing in the bedroom? No, it's not you -- it's your fucking breakfast cereal. Fruity Pebbles ain't cutting it mister: you need to step it up by eating Sex Cereal. Wait, what? Ten bucks a pack? Fuck that, if I'm rich enough to afford that for breakfast, women will be throwing themselves at me anyway. Plus, my doctor makes me eat some box of sticks and gravel because of my cholesterol. A sex-enhancing cereal would probably give me a heart attack.
A and F and Zizek!
In 2003, Abercrombie & Fitch hired Slavoj Zizek, former presidential candidate for the nation of Slovenia and budding philosopher, to write their fashion catalog. What they got was the textual version of their catalog photography: full of clumsy sexual concepts, overwraught artistic sensibility, and a taste of naughtiness which never rises above the level or teenage circle-jerkery. And that's what makes it so awesome. Verisimilitude is always appreciated more than forcing a suspension of disbelief.
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Chubby Checker!
You know the old adage, that shoe size translates to penis size? Well, some enterprising soul made an app that automatically does the conversion for you. It's not available in the Apple store, nor is it in the Android store, apparently it only exists for Palm, which is why big-money like Apple and Google didn't get sued, but the struggling HP and its 2010 acquisition Palm company are the ones being sued by the original Chubby Checker, the musician. I can totally understand: if there's one thing musicians hate, they absolutely abhor being associated with big penises. Oh, I know, this is about trademark and dilution of brand and blah blerg flhhkk, but my guess is the esteemed Mr. Checker checked his shoesize and found out an unfortunate truth about himself. Or, maybe he found the app is horribly miscalculating on the undersized end of the scale and he was the only person in a place to remedy the failure. And really, who besides 12-year-old boys looking for a reason to pick on other kids are going to play with an app that converts show size to penis size, and, do any of them own a fucking Palm device? Where can you even get one, besides a garage sale?
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Steak and a BJ!
Well, here we are again: one month after the one day of the year your girl is guaranteed all the romancing she wants, the boy gets all the romancing he wants on Steak and a BJ Day. Because, I mean, guys, on Valentine's Day you had to suffer the indignation of eating at a nice restaurant with your lover, then went back and fucked in your bedroom -- don't you deserve more? Like Valentine's Day, Steak and a BJ Day is lusted over by the single members of your gender because the feel they deserve to be showered with the selfish parts of the holiday. Those in relationships who properly celebrate the day are doing so out of their own mutual enjoyment. So, single people: stop fetishising a single day of the year because you feel you deserve something people lavishly write about on the internet. Everyone in relationships: if you're longing for one day a year to experience romance and sex, you're fucking wrong. Steaks and blowjobs come to those who deserve them, not because Google Calendar dinged on your phone. Today's holiday, like Valentine's Day, is merely here to remind you what you should be doing the rest of the year to show your fondness for the opposite sex, not the other way around.
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Grado Mahogany Headphones!
Grado Labs has been producing high-quality phonograph styluses since the 1950s, but today I just learned that Grado also makes these gorgeous mahogany headphones. Since they come from Grado, I expect them to conform to their usual high standards of audio quality, even if I'm not so sure that a ring of hardwood provides much difference in sound from a three-inch transducer. I suspect they reduce weight, which would be nice. I speak of this in the theoretical, because I'm going to have to work my ass off to ever afford a pair. Maybe someday, kids.
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Poor Workplace Safety!
If my OSHA guy were to stop by this worksite, the shit would hit the fan. The saying goes, "the right tool for the right job", and that hammer is not the kind of tool for wood construction. It's for metalworking, and sticking it up your hoohah is not obeying general safety procedures. That handle is going to get all slippery, and then an accident is going to happen, and somebody's going to get a hammer in the face when that vagina-moistened cross-peen flies out of an unsuspecting HVAC worker's hands. She should have kept on just sticking a banana in there. Oh, yes, there's a banana.
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Makeup Does Wonders!
This is why, walking down the street, you never actually see a pornstar in the wild. Unless they've got distinct tattoos or something else very identifiable, underneath all that makeup the ladies look like anybody else. So, use this information as you go through your daily life. That thin-lipped, acne-suffering babe with big boobs at the counter at McDonald's? Porn star. The mail carrier with long legs and dark rings under her eyes? Porn star. Life's a lot more exciting when you can just assume any person could be a porn star right in front of your nose. Just don't point it out to them that you know; famous people hate that, especially suspected pornstars.
Grandma's Porn!
Gunaxin reminisces about why porn was so great back in the seventies. If you're me and you've watched Boogie Nights every Saturday morning for the past ten years, you agree that VHS fucked everything up. But, don't forget that sensibilities changed, people started wanting things fast and hard, so porn gave it to them. Plus, look at fucking Ron Jeremy, here. Dude was badass. 
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Buddhists Get Laid!
Who has the most premarital sex? Buddhists and 'other', do, much to nobody's surprise. The twist is this says "most likely to report", which means the degree to which there is a stigma of talking about it, and not about the actual fucking. Keep in mind, "buddhist" and "other" are what young college kids to do rebel, and generally have religious aspects of fucking and less barrier to premarital boots-knocking, which reduces the surprise about "none" and "missing" - the stigma isn't purely a religious one, it's about the society you're in, so if you can comfortably claim buddhist so you can fuck the hippie chicks in your Anthropology classes, hey, good for you, man, the stigma is less over there.
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Women of 7-11!
Over at Peek-A-Boob, we learn how 7-Eleven screwed over Playboy magazine - and how Playboy got back at them. Edwin Meese, the blowhard Attorney General who decided that porn was worse than communism, sent out a warning to retailers that they need to stop selling porn - including cheesecake and artsy magazines like Playboy. Playboy sued, but they also put out an offer for 7-Eleven employees to make a little money on the side.
More at Peek-A-Boob >>
Housekeeping Dudes Suck!
This is bullshit, I tell you what. A new study says that men who do household chores and cook get laid less. Ladies, isn't this something you've been telling us will get us laid more? It has to be one big conspiracy - women convince us vacuuming will get us into their pussy, then don't put out. God dammit. Anyhow, men, that's no reason to stop helping with the chores: if you're going to be an asshole around the house, you might end up alone, doing all the housework and sex entirely by yourself.
Porn Collection Stolen!
Tragedy has struck the porn collecting community. Earlie Johnson...wait..really...'Earlie'?...anyway, Mr. Johnson arrived home one day to find his house had been robbed. Electronics and other valuables were missing, but the true tragedy was discovered when Earlie realized over seven thousand dollars of porn had been taken. That value was arrived at when Johnson brought his collection on PBS' Antiques Roadshow, and was given the value by those two creepy twin dudes. Anyhow, Johnson believed himself to be the most prolific collector of porn in all of Michigan, something to be proud of when you're a big black guy named "Johnson". The porn still hasn't turned up, so Earlie will have to just get his porn for free on the internet like the rest of us now.
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Girls Gone Wild Gone!
It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. After a few years of accusations of Joe Francis' douchebaggery have quieted down a bit, things have caught up with him: due to the overwhelmingly destructive judgments and lawsuits against Francis and his company, Girls Gone Wild has gone into bankruptcy to shield assets from his debtors. In the beginning it was all about Joe Francis, but what the brand needs now is some business savvy that doesn't rely on late-night ads or bad publicity; bring in a real business to run things, even Hustler brands for cripes' sakes, and bring it back into prime territory. If there's a brand designed for the internet world, it's Girls Gone Wild, and the fact that they went with a fucking magazine -
a non-nude magazine a'la the constantly-struggling Maxim, which makes no sense - shows they're not really getting it. Bankruptcy is a time to make these sorts of drastic changes, toss Francis out, bring back consequence-free teen boobs.
