Photo via dailymail.co.uk

Pictured above is the Fauteuil D’Amour. This special chair was reportedly built for use by King Edward VII at Le Chabanais, a fancy pants brothel in Paris. The chair allowed Eddy VII to enjoy comfortable sex with two women at once.

Thanks to Charlene, who brought the chair to my attention via Twitter. We had fun speculating about what position each member of the royal threesome would have taken on the Fauteuil. I have my theory. Any of you care to venture a guess?

Coat: Banana Republic (via eBay). Dress: Old Navy. Tights: Foot Traffic. Shoes: Pierre Michel (thrifted)

Bright, bold COLOUR!

This week began with the alleged Blue Monday. The third Monday of January is rumoured to be the most depressing day of the year; a time when the glow of December holidays is long gone and the prospect of a long, gloomy winter drop kicks our spirits (and by extension our libidos).

I wasn’t feeling blue this week, but I was feeling purple…

Blouse: Gap. Belt: Forever 21. Skirt: Ann Taylor (thrifted). Tights: Roots. Shoes: Aldo (thrifted).

…and red!

T-shirt: Threadless. Skirt: Gap. Tights: Foot Traffic. Boots: John Fluevog

I’ve loved colourful clothing for as long as I can remember.  Dressing like a human crayon does good things for the soul. And until the spring’s vibrant palette blooms outside, I can give my spirit a little boost by dolling up in my most vivid duds!

BTW, I wore my yellow ensemble to Kevin’s party this past Sunday. The sunny ensemble was a good choice. The shift dress I wore underneath gave my stomach plenty of room to expand as I gorged on the delicious array of cookies, cheeses, meats, meats with cheese and S’mores.

Finger lickin’ good times!

Image via workingoutsucks.com

couple of weeks after my first burlesque performance, The Man of Mans and I had a meeting with The Green Bean’s teacher to discuss some issues with classroom shenanigans.

It was a productive conversation, but as the teacher recounted The Bean’s random acts of hooliganism, a thought began forming in the back of my brain.

I wonder what this nice teacher would think, if she knew you took your clothes off in public. She’d probably think The Green Bean is acting out because you’re a bad mother.

Crap. I’d had boarded the I’m A Bad Mother Train.

The Bad Mother Train train travels along dark, seemingly endless route with stops that include Self-Doubtsville and Big Guilt City. Once I get on, there’s nothing I can do but ride it out, while my black thoughts stoke the engine’s fires

Nadine, you’re a disgraceful mother. Look at you – with your smutty writing and your non-stop jawing about sex. And to top it off you’ve started swinging your tits about in public!

Chugga-chugga-chugga…

You don’t even have a noble excuse! You’re not pole dancing to pay for your kid’s college education. You’re strip teasing for your own exhibitionist pleasures! You’re selfish! Mother’s are not supposed to be selfish!

Chugga-chugga-chugga…

Your mother wasn’t selfish. Your mother was committed to doing what she believed was best for you and you alone. She put aside her own desires and wishes. Instead you became her main source of pleasure and pride.  Mothers are supposed to derive satisfaction from their children, not from dancing the hootchie-koo.

Chugga-chugga-chugga…

Of course, for all of her dedication and propriety, your mother raised a daughter who grew up to dance the hootchie-koo.  Which is lots of fun and kind of cool, but probably not something ever she envisioned for you.

Chugga-chugga…

She loved, she cared for you, but ultimately those sacrifices didn’t benefit you. And they certainly didn’t mold you into the type of person your mother expected you to be.  But that’s just fine — you’re happy being a self-focused weirdo who goes pantsless in public.  And that makes your mom happy…because she loves you.

Chugga

Just like you love The Green Bean. No matter what mistakes you make, or how unconventional your choices, your kid has a mother who loves him. Talk to his teacher, deal with his rascality and then keep right on twirling your tassles. In the end, he’ll also probably also be just fine.

And just like that, the engine ground to a halt. I grabbed my baggage and got off The Bad Mother Train.

Photo via: queerfatfemme.com

I stumbled upon The Queer Fat Femme Guide To Life by happy happenstance while trolling a friend’s Facebook page one morning. I didn’t get much done that day, as I was instantly sucked into author’s Bevin Branlandingham’s land of fabulosity.

Queer Fat Femme is jammed packed with things I love. There are dance parties and fashion! There is Gay Sex Week, The Lesbian Jack Kerouac Gay American Road Trip, and the airpunch-inspiring Femme Shark Manifesto.

There’s also the best advice on asking someone out I have ever read!

Bevin Branlandingham is a sex-postive, body-positive, fat-positive, queer-positive, smart, funny, gorgeous woman. And she might have the best name in all the blogosphere. Despite being a skinny, straight girl, Queer Fat Femme seems like a great guide for my life.

Go have a gander… just clear your calendar first. I promise you’ll want to linger in the Queer Fat Femme-verse for a while!

I was wondering…

Can we all just agree that erections are normal?

It’s been brought to my attention that some people worry about getting hard-ons. Or more specifically some people worry about getting hard-ons at “inappropriate” times or in “inappropriate” spaces. My understanding is that the idea that there is a time and place for boners stems from shaming messages/experiences that often occur during childhood and/or puberty.

Let’s stop doing that.

I don’t have a penis, but I am a long-time fan. I read penis-books, I watch penis-films and I very much enjoy the company of the penis. I’ve learned a few things about the phallic appendage, including the following:

Sometimes penises are hard.

Hard-ons are often (but not always) a spontaneous physical response to sexual stimuli. They happen all around us, every day. They happen in response to visual, aural, nasal, tactile and mental stimuli. Erections ride the bus. They stand in line at the grocery store. They happen in our schools, at the office, in our homes and at fine, five-star holiday resorts. They happen in every country, to people of every race, colour and creed.

Somewhere, someone is having an erection right now.

Sexual arousal is an essential human drive and one that we have limited control over. When we get turned on parts of our bodies may spontaneously dialate, lubricate, accelerate, flush, contract and/or become tumescent with blood.

(Which reminds me, can we also agree that nipple hard-ons are also normal?)

Wood happens. There’s no right or wrong time for it – any time is bonert time. It’s not an insult, nor a compliment, nor commentary or any kind. It’s not a pet that can be trained to stand up or lie down on command. It’s just a penis doing one of the many things that penises are meant to do.

So from now on, no more shaming over random trouser (skirt or dress) tents, okay? If the owner of the penis consents, you may choose to pet the erection. Otherwise, I propose giving the erector in question a little space to adjust themselves and go about their lives, while we go about ours.

All those in favour, say “Aye”!

Josephine Baker is known as a singer, dancer and one of  history’s most celebrated burlesque performers.  But “The Bronze Venus” was also a committed social and political activist. During the Second World War, Baker used her unique position as an international performer to collect intelligence to help the French War effort.

She was also a champion of racial equality and the American Civil Rights Movement and  the only woman who spoke with Martin Luther King Jr at the 1963 March on Washington.

Now you know!

Hoodie: Cathy Peng. Leggings: Old Navy. Boots: Dr. Scholls. T-shirt (peeking through at the bottom): Threadless T-Shirts

Hoodies!

I gots to level with you, peeps. This week it’s been a challenge for me to feel sexy in anything as the January freeze has me shaking in my boots, so much so that I opted for indoor photos this week.  I’m the kind of gal who needs to be warm, in order to get hot, so my trusty hoodies have been just the ticket.

Hoodie: Lululemon. Hat: San Diego Hat Co. T-shirt: Threadless Tees. Skirt: Land's End. Tights: Foot Traffic. Shoes: John Fluevog

Not only do hoodies keep my body temperature at a balmy 37 degrees celcius, their casual style is reminiscent of laid-back Sunday mornings at the Farmer’s Market, followed by languid Sunday afternoons getting laid.

Hoodie and Jeans: Old Navy. Hat: Frangi. Boots: Miz Mooz

Mmm…the seductive allure of fleece!

There's a kitty on my bosom!

This hoodie is one of my many Cathy Peng tops. Cathy is a Toronto-based designer, illustrator and portrait artist with a gift for creating cat-themed paraphenalia that is rad, not sad. I use her first name, not because we are friends, but because I wish that we were.

Brr!

This week has been cold-ass cold! As a woman of island ancestry my instinct is to hibernate when the mercury takes a nose dive and keep warm by any means necessary.  Fortunately I have central heating, a stock of herbal tea and lustful fantasies of secret celebrity crushes to keep me warm.

Secret celebrity crushes were very popular amongst my old blog gang on LiveJournal. I’m not sure what the “secret” was – we discussed our all lust-worthy luminaries openly and often.  Nonetheless celebrity crushes are hot fun on cold days, so I thought I would share a few of mine.

5. Steve Carrell

I’ve definitely have a thing for nice, normal guys. Exhibit A: The Man of Mans. Exhibit B: Steve Carrell, who seems like the nicest, most normal celeb on the currently on the A-list roster.  And I didn’t appreciate it until the season four premier of The Office, but Mr. Michael Scott has a pretty solid body under his ladies’ suits. Nice guys tend to be considerate, well-mannered and very committed to giving good head. Based on his red carpet interview, Carrell seems to fit the profile nicely.

 4. Jian Ghomeshi

Jian Ghomeshi is like the cool guy in my high school that I could never talk to, only lust for from afar. Except instead of being the cool guy in my high school, Jian Ghoemshi is the coolest guy in Canada! And he’s the best kind of cool guy – a geek-cum-cool guy, who used to lay down nerdalicious beats as part of Moxy Fruvous. Now he’s all cutified and discussing the zeitgeist with the most enviable guest roster on FM radio. It’s unlikely I’ll every find myself in his real-life studio, but in my fantasy interview we do more with the microphone than just talk.

3. Zoe and Wash

This is fantasy Inception-style, where I go a layer deep into fantasy. Zoe and Wash are my favourite fictional couple from Firefly, one of my favourite fictional shows. It’s five hundred years in the future and adorkable Browncoat aims to do some misbehavin’ as the meat in a Wash/Zoe sandwich!

2. Kate Winslet

I adore Kate Winslet as an actor. I admire her personal style. I think she has a gorgeous face and her smart, sharp humour in interviews makes me suspect she’d be a great Saturday night dancing companion.  but in secret celebrity crush land, it’s all about the body! Specifically, the phenomenon I call Kate Winslet’s Boobs! The sketching scene in Titanic is the first and only time I’ve felt the urge to motorboat someone. The image of my face nestled between Kate Winslet’s Boobs has kept me piping hot on many a cold, winter’s day.

Which brings us to…

1. Stephen Colbert

The one. My ultimate secret celebrity boyfriend. He Who Is Known As Uber-Crush. Let’s take stock, shall we?

• Classic middle-aged dude good looks: Check.
•  Perfect teeth: Check.
•  Impeccably tailored sutis: Check.
•  Writer, performer and the ability to make political satire his bitch: Check.
•   Signature spectacles that set my heart and my loins a-flame? Check.

Yes, Stephen Colbert is 5’10″ of pure fantasy perfection. He’s the fantasy I save for darkest days of winter.  When the mercury is at its lowest, Uber-Crush and I get up on that C-shaped desk and do all the things!

I shared my secret crushes – feel free to share yours. Is there a famous someone you like to canoodle with in the deepest recesses of your brain?

Like everyone in the sex biz, I had to start somewhere. And what an auspicious beginning it was!

Venus Envy is Ottawa’s best destination for quality sex toys, books and other tawdry paraphenalia. The Man of Mans and I stumbled upon the original location in the ByWard Market shortly after we moved to the city.

The space was small and discreet yet bright, welcoming and conspicously free of shame.  Stepping into the store was a little like entering a new realm – a land where  sex was good!  The array of products was beguiling and a little confounding. The MoMs and I spent a good portion of that first visit, gawking  and wondering what-the-Sam Hill-that-was-for?

I couldn’t wait to go back!

Venus Envy became a requisit stop anytime I was in the Market. I loved it there. I loved chatting with the manager (who at that time was local literary legend Megan Butcher). I loved thumbing through their selection of porn and erotic literature. I loved their after-hours workshops where I finally learned what was up with my G-spot and how to approach anal sex.

I especially loved my vibrators!

But most of all, I loved going to a place – a store no less – that encouraged individual sexual expression. I wouldn’t have known to name at such, but I discovered sex-positivity at Venus Envy.  I learned that what I did with and desired for my body was valid regardless of whether it resembled what anyone else was doing. When it comes to sex there is no “normal”. Going to Venus Envy helped me find the motivation to figure out who I was as a sexual person.

One day, a friend told me they were looking for new staff. I submitted my résumé immediately.

When I was hired, I knew I had landed a supremely cool day job.  I figured the  biggest perk would be the deep discount on vibrators. I didn’t realize that once again, Venus Envy would change my life and start me on a whole new career path that eventually lead to work as a sex educator, an advice columnist and most recently, a burlesque performer.

But here I am and this Saturday, I’ll be twirling my tassles at Venus Envy’s 11th Anniversary Party!

Happy Birthday, VE! You’ve come a long way and thanks to you…so have I!

This past weekend, I ran into a friend I haven’t seen in awhile. I’m mightly glad our paths crossed because in a few short weeks he’s pulling up stakes and heading across the country to live with a man that he loves.

My understanding is that this is a relatively new relationship and the future is To Be Determined. But for now they’re determined to determine together and while I’ll miss seing my pal around town, I can’t think of a better reason for him to go.

The Man of Mans moved to Ottawa for a job. I moved to Ottawa for him. That wasn’t the only allure of this city. Once the prospect was on the table, I found there was enough here that I could find happiness as well. And The MoMs would have never come if I couldn’t be happy. But Ottawa wasn’t on my radar until he had a reason to come. I never would have chosen or even thought to live here, if he hadn’t asked.

It’s seems most people consider moving to study, for a job or even for a change of scenery a bold, enriching experience. Yet sometimes there’s less support for a person who wants to hightail their smitten ass out of town and to live with their beloved. Once upon a time, I judged myself for doing that very thing.  Leaving to be with a lover seems to evoke particular unease if the couple in question haven’t logged a requisite number of years together and/or made an engagement-like committment.

This reticence, I suspect is born of good intentions. No one wants to see someone they care about get hurt. There is such optimism in the leap of faith required to up and move somewhere new for someone new. That much optimism is scary because, my god what if it doesn’t work? What if it doesn’t work and the person I care about is devastated and far, far away?

The truth is anything can not work out. That dream job might be a nightmare. The new scenery may make you realize the grass was greener where you came from. It’s always as risk and love as much as anything can blow up in your face.

But what if it doesn’t?

For my money, love is a damn good reason to pack your bags, gather your courage and get the hell out of town. In fact, it’s my favourite.  It may not work out. Your heart might get broken.

But the cards might just fall in your favour. Love may take all your previous plans and KICK THEIR ASS WITH AWESOMENESS! It might be better than any job, school or the most beautiful scenery that’s ever been seen. It might be the best decision you’ve ever made. And if it’s not, it’s not. But why not try?

My friend is leaving to be with the person he loves. I’m pretty happy about that.  To quote Erica Jong:

Love is everything it’s cracked up to be…It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for.

Word.