I Made My Own Glass Dildo Because Life is a Magical Adventure

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When the #DildoHoliday schedule arrived in my inbox, I opened it up and speed-read it as though it contained the meaning of life.

My eyes swept over the various planned workshops, roundtable discussions, and group meals, until they landed on these intriguing words: “Super secret surprise event. Trust us – you’re gonna love it!”

What the fuck could that mean?

The only piece of information we were given about this “secret surprise” was that we’d need to wear closed-toe shoes. I was utterly baffled. At one point I even Googled “activities that require closed-toe shoes,” because the curiosity was gnawing at me. The search results were unhelpful.

When we arrived at the beach house where #DildoHoliday took place, and the scheduled time of the Super Secret Surprise Event was creeping up, Piph and Bex told us to wear pants instead of flowy skirts. I asked if I should bring a jacket and they told me to skip it, because the temperature of our destination would be hot. It was a bit chilly outside, so once again, I was mystified. But I put on the clothes I’d been instructed to wear, and piled into Kate’s car with the others.

Piph told Kate where to drive, and the anticipation in the car was palpable. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been faced with a surprise that was actually a surprise; usually I figure these things out well before they happen. But in this case, I truly had no clue what we were in for. Kate asked Piph if we were going on a boat ride, which was also the only idea that had occurred to me, and Piph just laughed and said no.

And then we pulled up outside Jennifer Sears Glass Art Studio, and we started shrieking. Because it suddenly became obvious. We were going to MAKE OUR OWN GLASS DILDOS.

Needless to say, this was a much better surprise than a boat ride.

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There were three glassworkers there to help us make the glass dildos of our dreams: Kelly, Kyla and Otto. (Is “glassworker” the correct term? I’m kind of more inclined to call them “glass wizards.”) This glass studio doesn’t normally make sexual paraphernalia – glass floats, bowls, and hearts are their usual wares, and there was nary a glass dildo or glass anal toy in sight! – but they’d agreed to set aside some time outside of business hours for us.

I was assigned to Otto, and at first I was nervous because I thought I’d feel uncomfortable describing my ideal dildo shape and size to a man, especially one I’d just met. But Otto was a total sweetheart and helped me through the whole process without making me feel one iota of discomfort.

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Otto explained each step of the process as we went along. First I gathered up some molten hot, liquid glass on the end of a metal rod. I wore gloves, of course, so the hot pole (!) wouldn’t burn my hands.

Then, while continually rotating the rod to prevent dripping, I dipped the squishy ball of orange-hot glass into a couple piles of a powdery substance that would give the dildo its color. After much deliberation, I’d chosen two of my favorite shades: a deep royal blue and a gorgeous turquoisey-green. Otto did some masterful glass manipulation to get the colors to swirl together in my dildo.

After we’d applied the colors, we put an additional layer of clear glass on top – that way, the paint would be inside the dildo, instead of on the surface where it could potentially flake off during use.

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Then came the really fun part: creating the shape of the toy. I had shown Otto some reference images of the Fucking Sculptures Double Trouble on my phone, because I wanted my dildo to have a similar S-shaped curve. He understood what I meant immediately, and I watched in amazement while he went to work on the melty blob of glass.

The glassmakers shaped our toys by spinning them against a thick square of folded wet newspaper. You’d think that the glass would just burn through the paper, since it’s incredibly hot at this point – but instead, the glass heats up the water in the wet paper, creating steam, which keeps the newspaper from burning while also protecting the glassmakers’ hands from the heat of the glass.

I asked Otto why he wasn’t wearing gloves like I was – it seemed dangerous! – and he told me he never wears them because they just get in his way. What a badass! I also asked him if he’s got super buff forearm muscles from spinning glass on rods all day every day (my arms got a bit sore just from the small amount of glass-spinning I did) and he told me he’s actually gotten muscle injuries from the strenuous work before. I believe it!

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The dildo began to take shape. Otto would manipulate it with the wet newspaper and some metal tongs until it started to cool down, and then we’d stick it back into the burning-hot “glory hole” again until it heated up enough to be bent and formed some more.

After he initially made the S shape, he asked me what I thought, and I said, “Can you give it a little more curve?” He kept increasing the angle until it looked about right to me.

We could’ve slimmed it down, but I decided to keep it huge. I thought it’d be better to have a dildo I could “grow into” than one that might feel disappointingly small to me someday. I knew I was pushing the limits of vaginal superpowers when Piph eyed my dildo and commented on how big it is – after all, her vagina is a black hole, so she can judge a super-sized dildo better than most – but I told her, “I think I can handle it.”

Later, one of the other glassmakers walked by and saw my dildo. “That’s so big!” she said, and Otto replied, “She says she can handle it!”

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When the dildo looked how I wanted it, it was time to separate it from the chunk of glass that kept it attached to the metal pipe. Otto gave me some tongs and I squeezed as hard as my scrawny arms would allow, while he turned the pole.

When I’d thinned off the end as much as I could, the glassmakers did some kind of blowtorch magic and my dildo popped right off the pipe into their waiting hands. They smoothed out the end with the blowtorch and then put all of our toys in a special machine that cools glass very gradually over many hours, so it doesn’t crack from the rapid change in temperature.

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After waiting what felt like forever (but was actually less than 24 hours!), we went back to the glass studio to pick up our finished treasures. We took them home and passed them out like it was Christmas morning. I’ve never seen so much dildo-related smiling in my life!

It wasn’t long before I ran off to my room with my dildo and gave it a go. It is HUMONGOUS – the diameter of each end is 2 1/4″! – but with lots of warm-up and lube, I managed to get the slightly smaller, more tapered end into me. The G-spot stimulation was so intense it almost hurt, as was the riotous orgasm that quickly followed.

I nicknamed my dildo the “Seaside Steamroller,” because a) we made it in a seaside town, b) its colors evoke the ocean, and c) it’s fucking MASSIVE and will basically steamroll your vagina. Sex toy reviewer extraordinaire Epiphora gave it a shot, and here’s what she had to say about it:

Daunted but also inspired by Girly Juice’s triumph with her Seaside Steamroller, I set out to conquer it myself. I went for the tapered end first, which is really wide, so I turned it sideways to insert it. Thoughts of how much of a genius I am for that move were replaced immediately by delicious G-spot sensations. Holy shit. It was AWESOME. I thought I’d be annoyed by the weight, but the shape of the handle was so ergonomic it didn’t matter.

The other, even larger end was less amazing. I had to do lamaze breathing to get it in (which I haven’t had to do since Randy), and the handle was facing down and away from me. Not ideal.

I switched back to the tapered end and proceeded to squirt all over everything and right through the hilariously useless towel under me. As I came down from my orgasm, I thought, somehow, some magical way, Girly Juice has managed to craft a dildo that improves upon the njoy Eleven. Yes: the Seaside Steamroller is what the Eleven wishes it could be.

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Our glass-making experience would not have been possible without the help of two of our #DildoHoliday sponsors, Tantus and We-Vibe. We had more fun making dildos than I would have thought possible, thanks to the generosity of these two fabulous and innovative companies.

Since coming home from Oregon, there have been moments when I’ve felt that #DildoHoliday couldn’t possibly have been real – like it was some souped-up fantasy or terrific dream. Because yeah, it is distinctly dreamlike to spend four days in a beach house far from your home with people you only knew from the internet, doing things like posing for naked pictures and masturbating side-by-side.

But then I hold my glass dildo and it’s like the spinning top from Inception: it reminds me that this stuff really happened, that this is my real life. And that’s an even better feeling than the G-spot pleasure my glass dildo gives me.

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Top photo by me. All other photos by Kate Sinclaire. Linked photo of blue glass dye by Penny.

This post contains a sponsored link. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

GJ Reads Grey, Chapter 1

As I’m sure you’ve heard by now, there’s a new Fifty Shades book. Because E.L. James totally needs more money, right?

It’s called Grey: Fifty Shades of Grey as Told by Christian. And as much as I hate E.L. James’ writing, as much as I loathe the campaign of kink miseducation she’s inadvertently created with her shoddily-researched “literary” empire, I just couldn’t stay away. I was too curious. I had to get my hands on this goddamn book.

I mean, it’s not like this is a surprise. I have seen the Fifty Shades movie FOUR TIMES, after all (most notably, at Drunk Feminist Films and while eating pizza and riding a Sybian). I endured these viewings and half of the first book despite pretty much hating every second of both, because, I guess, I’m even more of a masochist than Anastasia Steele.

(Is Ana even a masochist, though? Emotionally, maybe… but sexually, I don’t get the impression that she’s as into pain as Christian wants her to be. Anyway, that’s a can of worms for a whole ‘nother day…)

So without further ado, I’m gonna start a series of blog posts wherein I review and pick apart Grey, chapter by chapter. I can’t guarantee I will get through all the chapters; it’s an absurdly long book. But for as long as I can bear to read this garbage, I will blog about it. Because what’s the point of reading shitty shit if I can’t even snark on it?

(Incase you needed to be told: THERE BE SPOILERS AHEAD!)

Chapter 1

Grey opens with a dream Christian is having wherein he is a child, but I’m so used to E.L. James’ terrible writing that I thought it was just Adult Christian’s inner monologue for a while.

I have three cars. They go fast across the floor. So fast. One is red. One is green. One is yellow. I like the green one. It’s the best.

The dream Christian is having is actually a memory of his drug dealer/prostitute mother, who calls him “Maggot” and otherwise largely ignores him. Because that’s what drug addicts do, right? And because sad childhoods inevitably lead to sexually fucked-up adulthoods, right? Guh. This book is pissing me off already.

After Christian wakes up, he goes for a run on his treadmill while watching the “morning business news” on TV. One of my favorite features of the Fifty Shades franchise is how little E.L. James knows about business, or even the business that her main character is the boss of. The phrase “business meeting” is repeatedly used in the first book and movie. Like… can you do the tiniest bit of research on the lingo of the world you’re inhabiting? Or at least be the slightest bit more specific than “business” in all the many, many contexts you use that word?

Later in the day, Grey meets with his personal trainer, who is named Bastille. It’s like James is trying to make a historical reference, something about how Christian’s physical fitness and aggression serve to protect him from emotional vulnerability the way the Bastille fortress protected the French in its day. But I dunno. It doesn’t quite work. I mean, what kind of a name is Bastille?

My mood is as flat and gray as the weather.

Oh, Christian, what an original thought.

At work now, Christian is scheduled to be interviewed by journalism student Kate Kavanagh for her school’s newspaper. Grey and Kate’s father have “done business together” (yup, another vague reference to “business”) and Christian is “curious about his daughter.” Is he planning to mack on Kate?

Of course, Kate’s fallen ill, and Anastasia Steele has been sent as her replacement. Though Christian initially “repress[es his] natural annoyance at such clumsiness” when she falls headfirst through his office door (what a kLuTzZz!!), he’s immediately caught up in her “powder blue and guileless” eyes that seem to be able to “see right through” him, and then all of a sudden he’s wondering “what [her skin] would look like pink and warmed from the bite of a cane.” Yikes. This guy is an instantaneous predator. Straight creepin’.

She gapes at me, and I resist rolling my eyes. Yeah, yeah, baby, it’s just a face, and it’s only skin deep. I need to dispel that admiring look from those eyes but let’s have some fun in the process!

Oh my god, I hate this guy.

A bashful, bookish type, eh? She looks it: poorly dressed, her slight frame hidden beneath a shapeless sweater, an A-line brown skirt, and utilitarian boots. Does she have any sense of style at all?

Uhhh, Christian Grey is definitely having a Miranda Priestley moment.

He goes on to remark to himself that Ana can’t possibly be a journalist because she lacks assertiveness and seems submissive. As a journalist myself, yes, I can say it is true that you need to be assertive. But what the fuck is this conflation of weakness and passivity with submissiveness? Being a sexual submissive is incredibly active in many ways and requires strength and tenacity. This is exactly the kind of bullshit misconception that the Fifty Shades series is infamous for peddling.

As she fumbles and grows more and more flustered, it occurs to me that I could refine her motor skills with the aid of a riding crop. Adeptly used, it can bring even the most skittish to heel. The errant thought makes me shift in my chair. She peeks up at me and bites down on her full bottom lip. Fuck! How did I not notice how inviting that mouth is?

I wish I could shake Ana by her shoulders and tell her to get the fuck out of there. This dude is not safe.

Literarily speaking, can we talk about how James writes the entire book as Christian’s inner monologue but also occasionally italicizes certain phrases, as if to say, “Look, these are Christian’s thoughts”? The whole book is Christian’s thoughts. I’m confused by this choice. I’m confused by E.L. James’ entire approach to writing, actually.

The interview continues. Ana asks a bunch of smart questions and Christian answers them patronizingly while thinking about fucking her mouth and whipping her ass. What a charmer.

The chapter ends with Christian making a call to some guy named Welch to ask him to run a background check on Ana. Helloooo, stalker.

No surprise here: chapter 1 of Grey was every bit as creepy and worrisome as I expected. And E.L. James’ writing was just as bad as I remembered. Hip hip hooray for the modern literary industry!

Want to keep reading? Go to the next chapter.

Review: Tantus Sport

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SheVibe sent me the Tantus Sport months ago, and I’ve been slacking on my reviewer responsibilities. I tried it once and immediately declared it Boring. I began to dread trying it again, because sex toys are supposed to be fun and bad sex toys ruin orgasms.

I even brought the Sport with me to #DildoHoliday, thinking its mere presence in my suitcase would pressure me into giving it another shot. But nope. The only times I even touched it were for photo ops: I took the above photo of the Sport near the firepit of the beach house we were staying in, and I also set it up in my closet for an Instagram shot.

However, when I got back home to Toronto, I decided it was time to put the pedal to the metal and the Sport to my vag. And I’m glad I did, because it’s not nearly as boring as that first testing session had convinced me. (This, fledgling sex toy reviewers, is why you must always test toys at least three times before you review them!)

Certainly, the Sport won’t excite most dildo veterans. I’d guess that everyone who was at #DildoHoliday, with the possible exception of Reenie, would find the Sport too small to be satisfying. But that’s part of what makes it a worthwhile addition to Tantus’ catalogue. I’ve been complaining for years about the lack of good small dildos on the market; the Sport is the kind of dildo that me-from-two-years-ago would have loved.

The Sport’s ball-shaped head is 1.25″ across at its widest point, making the rest of the shaft significantly smaller than that. Because vaginas are muscular and snap back into shape rather than gaping like an open pit, dildos with a big head and a smaller shaft tend to stimulate the G-spot pretty effectively, even for folks who like their dildos huge.

True, as a vagina gets turned on and swells in arousal, it may start to crave something bigger, firmer, or both of the above. That’s definitely true for me when I’m using the Sport: it’s more flexible than my G-spot prefers, and seems to lose its efficacy as my arousal mounts. But as a G-spot warm-up toy, or even a straight-up G-spot toy for folks who like their toys on the smaller end of the spectrum, the Sport performs very well.

I still maintain that the Slow Drive is my favorite of Tantus’ smaller offerings. Its finger-shaped head seems to stroke my G-spot more deliberately than the Sport’s round one. The Slow Drive’s thinner head also enables it to get all up in my A-spot without angering my cervix; this is especially true of the Slow Drive Long.

But if you know your G-spot digs round heads, and you prefer your dildos smallish, I think the Sport will be just your cup of tea.

Thank you, SheVibe!

Three Cheers for Foreskins!: Tantus’ New Uncut Dildos

My Twitter stream is always full of sex toy photos, so you’d think I’d be desensitized to them – but when I saw the pictures of Tantus’ new Uncut dildos, I actually moaned out loud.

Foreskins are my jam, dude. I would never kick a guy out of bed for being circumcised – it’s not his fault, after all, and penises are wonderful regardless of their accoutrements – but if I’m honest with myself, I’d rather fuck dudes who are intact. Visually and tactilely, for me, foreskins are where it’s at.

So, yeah, I’m pretty damn excited about Tantus’ new offerings: the medium-sized Uncut 1 and mega-sized Uncut 2.

They’re both made of Tantus’ exquisite dual-density silicone, which pairs with the dildos’ realistic appearance to create a truly lifelike experience. They come in three different (beautiful) skin tones. Oh, Tantus. You sure know how to spoil us.

Mainly what excites me about these toys is that they could help to normalize – and eroticize – intact penises. In North America, it’s heartbreakingly common for uncircumcised guys to feel insecure about what makes them different, even though their anatomy is, of course, totally natural. Just as I perk up a little when I see chubby ladies rocking their sexy-ass curves, I hope that uncut guys will see these dildos and feel terrific about their package!

The future is here, folks: sex toys exist which represent real, diverse bodies. What other kinds of sex toys would you like to see in the future?

(This post wasn’t sponsored. I really am that enthusiastic about foreskins.)

2 Health Apps That Legitimately Make Life Lovelier

I am a Problem Sleeper. I frequently have trouble falling asleep until hours after I should, and then inevitably I sleep way past the time I’m supposed to get up. It’s a quality of mine that’s annoyed parents, teachers, and sleepover hosts, but mostly, it annoys me.

I’ve sought all sorts of help for it – most notably, getting a special lamp for sufferers of Seasonal Affective Disorder (which I also have) and using it for 10 to 15 minutes in the morning when I need some bright light to smack me awake. (It really does help!)

However, there’s another technological marvel that’s been helping with my sleep issues lately, and it – like most of my life – relies on my phone. Oh, iPhone, what would I do without you?!

The wonder of wonders I’m speaking of is the Sleep Cycle app. This post isn’t sponsored in any way; as any IRL friend of mine will tell you, I rave about this app because I really do love it.

Here’s the dealio: at night, when you plug in your phone to charge, you set the alarm in Sleep Cycle and then put the phone face-down on the bed. (I usually put mine above my head and slightly to the left of where I sleep, so I won’t knock it onto the floor if I toss and turn.) The app uses your phone’s built-in motion sensor to track your movements through the night, and – using some kind of high-tech magic I don’t understand – tracks where you are in your sleep cycle at any given time.

It then uses this information to wake you up only at the lightest point of your cycle, so that you’ll feel alert and rested when you wake, instead of groggy and disoriented. Whatever time you set on your alarm, the app will wake you up at your lightest moment of sleep in the half-hour before that time – so you’ll be extra-awake but still on time for whatever you’ve got scheduled that morning.

The wake-up sounds are gentle and gradual, so you never feel blasted awake. You can also set some soothing sounds to play while you fall asleep; I like to listen to rain. Or sometimes I open up the Spotify app and play the Jazz For Sleep playlist. Ah, bliss!

Sleep Cycle also appeals to my inner geek by collecting and displaying statistics (fuck yes!) on how long you sleep and how well you sleep. You can see all the hills and valleys of your restfulness through the night, and the app even keeps track of how many steps you took each day so you can check if there’s any correlation between physical activity and sound sleep. There’s also a place to keep notes, if, say, you want to keep track of how a certain medication, caffeine drink, or exercise regime is affecting your sleep.

This app has genuinely revolutionized my life in that I almost never feel groggy when I get up anymore, even if I went to bed later than I should’ve. Sure, I’ll get sleepy later in the day if I didn’t get enough Z’s, but it’s no longer a struggle to get going in the morning. And that is a damn blessing.

The same company also makes an app called Power Nap which uses the same basic mechanic but is made for naps rather than night-long sleeps. You have the option of three different nap lengths, depending on how much time you have or how deeply you want to nap. You tuck the phone in your pocket (or, if you’re me, in your bra) and it tracks your movements and wakes you up gently when you’re sleeping lightly. This app has saved my ass so many times when I needed a mid-day power-up but didn’t want to risk the grogginess that happens when you nap for too long.

While not strictly related to sex, I think we can all agree that your level of restedness affects not only your sex life but also how you feel about yourself and your life. This blog has basically expanded to cover not only “sex” but “anything and everything that impacts sex,” and lemme tell ya: when I haven’t slept well, any sex I have (even with myself) is gonna suck. So, thank heavens for Sleep Cycle!

Do you use any health apps that rock your world? Do you have sleep struggles comme moi?