Day 5: A little to the left please

This is what my living room floor looks like right now. And it will still look that way in the morning. Now don't you feel better about yourself?

Also, I bought some sausage gravy and biscuits Lays potato chips when I was out shopping with my daughter Elvira this evening. We tried them, they were OK, and she stuck them behind us on floor of the van. I have absolutely zero anything delicious -- meaning salty and greasy -- in this house to eat with my glass of chardonnay. I know, right? So far I haven't gone out to my van to get those stupid chips. They aren't even that good, and I have a sore on the back of my tongue, but if I were you I wouldn't put your odds on my will power holding out.

It's probably bad enough I'm drinking the chardonnay. You know what they say about people who drink alone. I'm not really drinking alone though. See, I've mounted a mirror right beside me at my computer to keep myself company. Every once in a while I toast with myself and congratulate us for not drinking alone like a couple of big, fat losers. Clink! Somehow, it's the eating potato chips alone that seems like a worse practice anyway. Nothing says loser more than an empty bag of chips you just bought this afternoon.

Hold on ..... I'll be back. I'm going out to the ... I mean, to the ..... I mean, I think the dog's barking out back. Better check.

Bitch, I am right here! Hey, are those chips?

I'm back. Everything is fine. Let's not talk about potato chips. Let's talk about this new app that can allegedly teach a person how to give a woman an orgasm. And, no, this isn't the one I wrote about in the monologue I performed last fall in All the Sex Monologues. That one was worthless. This one might actually work.

(Stolen from
Google Play)

The app, which is sold by a company in Denmark called Lovable Hat Cult, is named La Petite Mort, which means a little death, another name for an orgasm. Because it feels so fucking good you want to die. Although in my experience, it could also mean you're going to die if he (assuming here that women know where the spot is) doesn't find the right fucking spot and stay the fuck on it long enough for la petite mort to happen. Ladies, you know what I mean! (And if you don't, I just might go all Jolene on you and steal your man!)

Anyway, this is an app so unlike a real woman it doesn't have a clitoris. It has pixels. So what you do is you excite the pixels on the screen. And as you're circling and stirring the pixels around with your finger or .... well, I guess you could actually use any part of your body to excite the pixels .... music plays. If you get it right, the music lets you know. And if you get it really right .... if you stir the pixels into the ultimate pixel climax ... if you really kill it, the app rewards you with a satisfying musical climax. Probably something like this.



The game has different "landscapes" so you don't get bored. The company touts the meditative quality of finding the sweet spot and circling ... circling .... building and agitating .... circling as the music builds and guides your finger. I actually think this one sounds kind of cool, so I went to the Google Store to take a look. Apparently Apple won't allow iPhone users to buy it, because it's not family friendly. Whatever. It's not a real pussy, Apple, nor even a facsimile of one.

I, however, could buy this Zen-like experience for the low price of $2.50 in the Google Play Store, and I would have clicked right on that sweet sweet app..... even though, and I feel a digression coming on .... I think we all know I have my own pixels, and circling my pixels eventually brings on a small death that, while it is not accompanied by a musical climax, is nevertheless an experience to die for. And I'll just add, although I don't want to brag, that I've never had any complaints when I've circled anybody else's pixels either, so it's not like I need this app. However, I do know a few people who absolutely do need this app. I'm not naming names, but maybe I should some time just to make sure this app or one like it gets into the right hands, but I digress ....

Anyway, I could download La Petite Mort if my phone weren't several years old (4? .. 5? who knows?) with a memory so tiny it can't remember its own mother. I've had to ditch all but the most necessary apps, and I can't even upgrade Facebook. I can't even play Words with Friends. I can't even upgrade voice mail ....which means, I can't fucking buy the app. I can't buy even a small orgasmic death.

It's not fair. I really wanted to give my phone -- my Android! -- in appreciation of its many years of service, a huge, pixel-shaking, full-orchestra orgasm. Who wouldn't want that?

Fuck it. I'm too depressed to write any more. I really thought this was the one, and yet I can't even give it a decent review.  I can't even get my Android-loving friends together and have contests to see who can make their phones come the fastest. Do you even know how much fun that would be? I know I would win.

Oh, well. Fuck my life, but maybe one of you can download it and tell me what it's like to give an Android an orgasm. It's cutting edge computer fuckery, my friends! Cutting edge.

The company has other apps that look intriguing. All joking aside, if I could I'd try a couple of them out, even if they aren't free. If you do give them a try, let me know what you think in the comments below. I'm disgustingly used to vicarious sex.

Disclaimer #1: I have no affiliation with Lovable Hat Cult. I just wrote this because I was intrigued and I can't stop talking about sex.
Disclaimer #2: I didn't really go to my van and get sausage gravy potato chips. I ate some stale fucking rice crackers instead. All of them. I'm pathetic.

NaBloPoMo #8: I'm not licking that reprise

All the Sex Monologues is over, and I don't think anybody could argue that it wasn't a success. We sold out both shows, and today we had to hold for 10 minutes, because we had a line out the door and around the corner. More chairs had to be set up to accommodate everybody. The audience laughed and cried. Many condoms were handed out. I'm grateful for my friends who came out to see the show, and that my son Drake and daughter-in-law Montana came last night too. It makes a difference being up there on the stage, trying to be funny, that I was talking to friends .... although the whole having an orgasm up there on stage in front of my kids might have been awkward if I hadn't had my eyes closed the whole time.

I got to work with some wonderful, talented people. While performing monologues is not the same as working on a play together, we still became a pretty cohesive group. I feel grateful to have been able to work with them on a show that was both entertaining and relevant and for such a good cause. I'm not sure how much money we made for Planned Parenthood, but I suspect it's more than was projected.

And now the crash comes. I always crash after a show closes. I tried to avoid it by cleaning, but it's still there. I feel tired and a little blue, like I've got a loose end flapping around. But a busy week will sweep that away before long.

I don't usually repost old posts, but tonight I'm going to repost "I'm Not Licking That" with the revisions I made for the show. I know pride goes before a fall, but I am proud that I wrote and performed my own monologue. It's a powerful feeling, and I'm getting some fresh ideas for writing more performance pieces. So if you've read this, sorry. If you saw the show this weekend, sorry. If you've never seen this one before, I hope you enjoy it.

Recently a friend sent me a link to an article about a new app that got me really excited. Not for myself so much as for my male friends.

It's an app that teaches men ... I mean people ... no, I really mean men how to lick. It’s a licking app! Do you want to know right where my mind went? Good licking makes for good cookies. This is brilliant, I thought .... and I definitely should have thought of it first. I'd be every woman's new rich best friend.

I started to make a list of men I've known ... OK, I mean fucked in the past who need to know about this licking app. Wait! I know what you’re going to say, and I’ve considered the consequences, and I'm sure any judge would agree this is more important than following those silly restraining orders. I thought I would compose a message to my exes that was both sensitive and encouraging, not critical or blaming. In fact, I actually planned to encourage all men to download this app and start lapping away at their screens immediately. Who can't use more practice? Fuck Words with Friends. Start licking, boys!

Then I decided to make beating this game a prerequisite for dating a guy. Just in case we ... or he .... went down .... that path. I thought if I ever joined an online dating service, I'd say right up front I wanted proof of proficiency with the licking app before I swiped right. Or is it left? Nevermind. I had big plans for this licking app.

Then I read an interview with the developers, and disappointment set in.  "Do we think you'll be a better lover because of it? No." That’s co-creator Chris Allick. "Do we think it's an interesting approach to human computer interaction and making people think about their sexuality and maybe start a conversation? Totes."

Do you think I was disappointed when I read that? Totes! Really, Chris, who wants to start a fucking conversation? What we woman want are more tongues wagging, and a lot less talking.

If it won't make men better lovers -- I'm assuming men, because I haven't heard any lesbians complain about lack of attention to detail in their licky licky -- what the fuck good is it? If it won't make men better cunnilinguists, why would we want them to slobber all over their phones trying to flip a light switch or roll a virtual beach ball around? They could just as easily practice tracing the ABC's with their tongues on the tips of their pinkie fingers.

When I saw the name of this app, I expected to see a cartoon version of the lady bits. I expected the player would get points for locating the clitoral sweet spot and staying on it long enough to win the game. I expected an explosion of cookies on the screen or at the very least a series of satisfying ah .... ah .... ah ... ah .... AAAAAAHHHHH sounds. Or both!

I must confess, I didn't download the app to taste-drive it. I could come up with reasons not to get it, but no good reason I should. For example, google "cell phone poop," and you'll learn that 1 in 6 cell phones have poop dust on them. Anderson Cooper's phone has poop dust on it. The creators of the app suggest people use plastic wrap over their screens to avoid contamination, but grilled cheesus that's a lot of work for something I really don't need to practice. And anyway .... ick!

I did click over to the developers' website and saw Club Sexy Time has several other free, yet useless, apps. Like a stare-down app, a pencil-arranging app and a booby trap app. OK, I was tempted to check out that last one. Who doesn’t love boobs? But then I remembered my time is valuable. Someone might have posted a funny, new meme or a cute photo of a kitten on my Facebook feed while I was playing a booby trap app. And since even the developers admitted the licking app would be of no use to pretty much anybody ... I decided fuck it. Which is not the same as lick it.