L U N A T A L K with Eva Moon

Secret NSFW Spot

All the recent controversy about the existence or non-existence of the G-spot might naturally lead people to want to put their finger on it once and for all. Now you can. Sort of.

This G-point mouse has a secret spot inside that, when pressed, will take you to your favorite place. On the internet.

I started to wonder what other kinds of anatomically analogous input devices one could devise. Perhaps even one aimed at the female market. I found this, but somehow I think it’s still one for the guys:

Make your own!

I’m still wondering who the G-point mouse is marketed to? The presumption is, straight men. But they’ll never find the secret spot.

See more like that one:

• Vajazzle Me
• National Wax
• Zombie Orgasms
• Keep it Sizzlin'
• Computer Term or Bad Sex?

Lying Eyes

Some optical illusions you can “get” once you see what’s going on. But some are so persistent that you flat out don’t believe it no matter how many times you drag swatches around in photoshop. Like this. I came across another one. The blue and green spirals really are the same color. Really, they are. No, really.

Read about it here.

I made another version of it to prove that it REALLY IS the same color:

You know, I still don’t believe it.

See more like that one:

• Sea Kittens: It's What's for Dinner
• Bah! Humboob!
• The Sunday Six: Weird This Week
• The Sunday Six: Weird This Week
• National Wax

Parking Fail

Our local movie theater has an overflow parking area. It’s just a dirt and gravel lot with no markings, but it’s often the closest spot to the doors and it’s often raining, so we park there.

Today, after the movie we were confronted with this:

WTF?

An entire row of cars was completely blocked in. What were these people thinking?

While other trapped car owners swore and stomped about and fumed and called the police, we quietly retreated to a nearby Mexican restaurant for some beers and a good long head shake.

See more like that one:

• National Wax
• Tap...tap...tap... is this thing on?
• Lying Eyes
• Zombiespeak: A Linguistic Analysis
• Freedom!

Girl of My Dreams

I’m channelling other people’s fantasies in my dreams. This really sucks because I almost never channel my own fantasies. I just had this dream where a petite Asian woman in black lace undergarments was coming on like gangbusters, pulling me into bed and trying to rip my clothes off. I was definitely tempted, but I told her, “Just a minute” and went in the other room to ask my husband if it was OK with him. He said, “No.”

Fuck. Aren’t dreams supposed to be a free pass?

Of course, when I woke and told him about the dream he said, “Wait! No, wait! You asked the wrong guy. I would never have said no!”

If you’ve been channelling my fantasies in your dreams, let me know. Maybe we can swap.

See more like that one:

• How can you ever really know?

Keep it Sizzlin’

Somehow I have fallen into a bacon vortex. I rarely ever eat the stuff, but no bacon product can hit the market without someone thinking of me. Usually I post out of horrified fascination, but in this case there is an odd confluence of bacon horror and sexual delight that’s so perverse it’s setting up vibrations of the magnitude that brought down the Tacoma Narrows Bridge. I give you: Baconlube.

The company’s tag line is “everything should taste like bacon” and I guess this will put it to the test. But, is that an actual slice of bacon floating in the bottle like some pork-based tequila worm?

Still, there’s a part of me that’s thinking, guys like to eat bacon. This could work for me…

(Judging by the posting date of the product announcement, I suspect some April foolery is afoot. Still…)

link

See more like that one:

• Chopping List
• The Magi had it easy...
• Day 15: Which Way to the Egress?
• Day 13: Juice of Affliction, Chili of Salvation
• Day 11: The Wall

Bah! Humboob!

The official holiday shopping season is upon us, such as it is this year.

This story in the Seattle PI amused me:

In hard times, nostalgic toys strike a chord

NEW YORK — Counting dollars this holiday season, Tom De Santes wants to avoid buying high-priced techno gadgets as gifts for his two sons.

Instead, he is going to buy the boys, ages 6 and 7, a classic from his own childhood: Lincoln Logs.

Read more…

Let’s be clear about this: The kids are not begging for Lincoln Logs. It’s the stressed-out, thumb-sucking grownups reaching for the comfort food. Then they try to pretend it’s morally superior. We’ll sit and build log cabins with our kids… as soon as we’re done programming the new Tivo.

There’s nothing about Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robots or Cabbage Patch dolls that’s inherently superior to Transformers or Dora the Explorer. But at last - at long last - we can have all the toys we ever wanted. The Easy Bake Oven that everyone else had and we never got? It’s in the bag, baby.

Still, it could be worse.

This is the kind of misogynist crap that just makes me want to go on a crockery-smashing rampage: A boob job money jar sold as decor for a girl’s room. What fun!

“Here honey, save your money and maybe someday you can fix your poor, inadequate body.”

If you check out the site, you’ll see it’s clearly aimed at young teen and preteen girls. I hesitate to encourage you to go there since it might lead to a purchase of some other item. Don’t do it. Even if you’ve wanted a pom-pom bead curtain your whole life. Just don’t do it.

Grrrr.

A confession: My kids are grown and (mostly) out of the house. Most of their childhood toys are long gone. But I still have the bucket of Legos squirreled away.

See more like that one:

• Lying Eyes
• Sea Kittens: It's What's for Dinner
• The Sunday Six: Weird This Week
• The Sunday Six: Weird This Week
• Bad-ass Bikers vs. Bad-ass Knitters

Cream in my coffee

I know I’ve been writing about food a lot lately. I am a woman of strong appetites and the urge is especially potent this time of year. After all, why stop with just one when multiples are on the table? Let me squeeze out one more for you:

Natural Harvest: A Collection of Semen-Based Recipes

What could be more festive for the holidays? Some sample recipes from the book: “Almost White Russian” (2 oz vodka, 1 oz coffee liqueur, 1/2 oz semen, cream or milk, ice cubes), “Tuna Sashimi with Dipping Sauce” (Seafood n’ spunk. Now there’s a natural pairing!), and for dessert, “Creamy Cum Crepes.”

And so on. Well, you get the jizz. I can’t wait to see this episode of Iron Chef.

It’s hard to think of many human-based substances one would want to cook with (perhaps including the above), but here’s a true confession: Back when I was nursing my kids, I found a fresh and convenient substitute for cream in my coffee… Oh c’mon. Like you never thought of it.

Happy Thanksgiving and do have some more of the cream pie.

Thanks to Mr. Squid.

See more like that one:

• Chopping List
• The Magi had it easy...
• Day 15: Which Way to the Egress?
• Day 13: Juice of Affliction, Chili of Salvation
• Day 11: The Wall

Poetry in Bacon

Too much bacon? Is it even possible? Apparently, it is.

Behold the Turbaconducken!

The Turbaconducken is a whole cut up chicken, each piece individually wrapped in bacon, stuffed inside a whole duck, also completely swathed in bacon and then crammed into a turkey which is… plastered in bacon.

I wonder why they didn’t deep fry it?

OK, the outside looks tolerable, but I don’t even want to think about the gelatinous swamp of fat that poured out of the murky interior.

My 22-year-old-bacon-loving son’s response:

7:17:13 PM Alan: okay
7:17:16 PM Alan: speaking as a bacon enthusiast
7:17:18 PM Alan: that is just
7:17:20 PM Alan: too much bacon
7:17:29 PM me: who knew there was such a thing?
7:17:33 PM Alan: I was aware
7:17:49 PM me: I mean, such a thing as too much bacon
7:18:02 PM Alan: yes
7:18:04 PM Alan: it is rare
7:18:05 PM Alan: but achievable

Reformatted as poetry:

A Poem for the Morning

okay
speaking as a bacon enthusiast
that is just
too much bacon
who knew there was such a thing?
I was aware
I mean, such a thing as too much bacon
yes

it is rare
but achievable

(Thanks to Lisa Whipple, Nina Forsyth, Alan Gordon and Bacon Today)

See more like that one:

• Chopping List
• The Magi had it easy...
• Day 15: Which Way to the Egress?
• Day 13: Juice of Affliction, Chili of Salvation
• Day 11: The Wall

Vogued, Part 2

More selections from the 840-page slab ink and glossy stock that was the September 2007 issue of Vogue Magazine (of which, maybe four pages were editorial content.) See Part 1. It seems a little inadequate to call it a magazine. Like calling US Military spending a small indulgence. And speaking of small indulgences, go for the sweet little pink cloth clutch on page 811 from Louis Vuitton for only $1,275. You deserve it. But first, a few more fashion highlights:

It was supposed to be a medical miracle - reattaching a woman’s head and limbs to her torso after a tragic accident. But things went horribly wrong when the torso was accidentally attached backwards - along with the dress. The incompetent surgeon tried to disguise his negligence by draping the pelt of sasquatch over the evidence. Nice try, doc. (Cute shoes, though.)

These poor siamese twins, joined at the handbag, are saving up for the operation that will allow them at last to be separated. Please give.

Natasha trudged onward through the fierce Siberian winter. The old gypsy woman had looked into the tea leaves and seen a happy reunion with her exiled prince. Unfortunately, she neglected to mention it would only be happy for the prince, who would stumble upon her frozen corpse shortly after the last of his food supplies had been depleted.

The Baleful Banshee of Aberdeen: To summon this demon, burn the contents of your dryer’s lint trap at midnight on the full moon while repeating the incantation “FA SHO N’VI K’TOM.” Be warned though: One mistake and you might resurrect your uncle Scottie’s 1976 rec room sofa.

See more like that one:

• National Wax
• Tap...tap...tap... is this thing on?
• Lying Eyes
• Zombiespeak: A Linguistic Analysis
• Parking Fail

Vogued, Part 1

So I came across a copy of September’s Vogue magazine. Not that it was an easy thing to miss. At 840 (EIGHT HUNDRED AND FORTY) pages, it’s heavier than many of the models featured in its pages.

I’ve scanned a few for your viewificating horror.

The Barbie haircut syndrome. You know what I mean if you ever were a little girl with a Barbie and a pair of scissors. She starts out with beautiful long hair. This is the last stage before dots. Also, last I checked, it was normal for the upper arms to be a bit thicker than the forearms unless you’re Popeye. Would someone please throw this woman a sandwich?

Below: a medical malpractice no-brainer. She went in for a breast augmentation and the incompetent surgeon attached the implant to the side of her head. No wonder she’s got dark circles. Could YOU sleep?

Now I know where the hat from my Monopoly set went. Beyond that, words fail me. This was from an article about a famous makeup artist. She must of run out of big red noses in her kit.

Peter Pan was abducted by gay Victorian zombie urchins. Braaaaiiinnnns.

One bright spot: An amazing photo of Twila Tharp in a GAP shirt. GAP may be a has-been pimp of mundane, characterless, boring clothes clothes, but they’ve just gone up in my esteem. They are now elevated to a has-been pimp of mundane, characterless, boring clothes with the wits to throw a wheelbarrow full of money at a decent ad agency.

More to come in part 2.

See more like that one:

• National Wax
• Tap...tap...tap... is this thing on?
• Lying Eyes
• Zombiespeak: A Linguistic Analysis
• Parking Fail