All the Hardware & Software I Use for Blogging, Journalism, Podcasting & Music

Kate Sloan

I get questions sometimes about the equipment I use to do the various things I do, so I thought I’d compile it all in one big master post! (Last updated: 10/08/2024)

 

General hardware

  • My computer is a 2022 M2 MacBook Air. I added more storage space and RAM than the base model offers, so it can keep up with the most taxing tasks I do (usually video or audio editing).
  • When I’m at my desk, my MacBook is hooked up to my 24-inch ViewSonic monitor, which I got because it’s one of the only ones that can connect to a MacBook and charge it at the same time, through just one cable.
  • When at my desk, I switch back and forth between a few mechanical keyboards that I customized myself. My daily driver is a blue Epomaker Galaxy80 with Holy Panda switches on the alphanumeric keys, Akko Cream Blue switches on the modifier keys, and blue and pink pastel keycaps from Drop; I also added a custom volume knob to it. When I’m podcasting, or doing other activities that require quiet, I switch to a KeebMonkey KBM68Pro that has Akko Fairy silent switches on the alphas and Akko Penguin silent switches on the modifiers, with turquoise gradient keycaps.
  • I use an Apple Magic Trackpad (a gift from my Apple-nerdy spouse). Have never really been able to go back to using a mouse after getting used to a trackpad.
  • My spouse also got me a reMarkable 2 a while ago, which I love to use for writing while traveling, writing at coffee shops and bars, songwriting, note-taking, and various other writerly purposes.
  • I use my iPad mini 5 for leisure activities mostly (Netflix, Instapaper, etc.) but it’s also what I work on when my chronic pain is flaring up too badly for me to sit at a desk, or when I want to work in a location where bringing a laptop would be inconvenient. I often use it with a walnut iPad stand from Yohann, which is very design-y and beautiful.
  • My phone is an iPhone 13 Pro, a hand-me-down from my generous spouse. It has a great camera; I take most of my photos and videos on it.
  • For Zoom calls and such, I have a Logitech C920S webcam affixed to my monitor.
  • When I read, either for pleasure or for research, I’m usually doing it on my Kindle Paperwhite. I love that it’s waterproof, because I read in the bath a fair bit, and I also love its highlighting and note-taking features.
  • I have a HomePod mini next to my bed which I use to control music and lighting with my voice, among other things. it’s especially convenient on days when chronic pain and fatigue are making it difficult for me to do things myself.

 

Podcasting & music equipment

 

Analog hardware

 

Software

  • This blog runs on WordPress.
  • I do most of my other writing in Google Docs.
  • I keep track of my income and business expenses in Google Sheets.
  • The Notes app that comes built-in on Apple devices is my best friend, and I use it for the bulk of my digital note-taking and for keeping track of my life overall. It’s where I make my daily to-do list as well.
  • I used Scrivener to write both of my books. It’s the best software for longform projects that I’m aware of.
  • For podcasting, I record in Audacity and edit in Adobe Audition. No particular reason for these choices except that I know them well/have been using them for a long time (they taught us Audition in journalism school and I used Audacity for my first podcast, when I was 12!).
  • Depending on who I’m talking to, I usually do online video or audio calls with either Zoom or FaceTime.
  • When interviewing people on Zoom or similar, either for a podcast or for an article, I record audio with Piezo.
  • When interviewing someone over the phone (very rare these days), I use TapeACall Pro. It’s a bit convoluted and unreliable, though, so I’d like to find a better solution someday.
  • For making rough demo recordings while writing songs, I use Voice Record Pro. This is also how I capture any random melodic ideas that come to me while I’m out and about.
  • During the songwriting process, I often use the Rhymezone app, not only for rhymes but also as a dictionary and thesaurus.
  • I use Descript for automated interview transcriptions. It is a weirdly complicated and difficult-to-understand app but I know how to do the basic things I need to do in it, so it’s fine.
  • I save and read articles in Instapaper. I save and read book highlights in Readwise.
  • The Dildorks is hosted on Simplecast.
  • I record and produce music in GarageBand and then edit videos in iMovie.
  • I listen to tunes on Apple Music all day long.

Review: Womanizer Liberty by Lily Allen

Kate Sloan

If you were following along with new developments in the sex toy industry back when the first Womanizer model launched, then you know that these toys had an ugly start. Literally.

The tragically-named company was bringing an exciting new technology to the market – pressure-wave stimulation, i.e. making clits feel good with rhythmic pulses of air – but they had made a grave miscalculation (in my view) by festooning their new toys in cartoonish leopard print and over-the-top rhinestones. The product itself was giving folks with vulvas a whole different type of stimulation than they were used to, so Womanizer could’ve gone with a much less gaudy aesthetic and still intrigued consumers around the globe. And yet, they went with designs so garish that I was frankly kind of embarrassed when friends spotted the toy on my nightstand. (As you can imagine, in my line of work, that situation doesn’t usually embarrass me…)

I say this not to retroactively shame Womanizer, but to say that I really appreciate the aesthetic direction the brand has taken over the past few years, particularly since they were acquired by We-Vibe. Their current lineup is sleek and sophisticated-looking. If you love leopard print, perhaps you’re crestfallen (I can appreciate it too, just not on a sex toy), but I’m delighted that consumers can access pressure-wave toys now without their friends and lovers making comments such as, “Did an Elvis impersonator in Vegas throw that at you from the stage?” or “Liberace called; he wants his vibrator back.”

The most recent addition to my Womanizer collection, sent to me by the lovely folks at XOXTOYS, is the Womanizer Liberty by Lily Allen, a special-edition toy co-designed by the British singer/songwriter whose name it bears. Prior to trying this toy, the only other thing I knew about Lily Allen was that she did a song called “Alfie” that I liked (I think it was even my ringtone for a while in middle school). I’m not quite sure to what extent she was actually involved in the design process for this toy, but I imagine that she at least picked the colors, and they’re good ones: a very 1960s juxtaposition of hot pink and bright orange. I actually love this color combo and find it uplifting to see this toy on my nightstand.

Another aesthetic thing I like about the Lily Allen Womanizer is that it comes with a matching “travel cover,” a piece of curvy hard plastic that the Womanizer slots into perfectly, so that it’ll be protected from dirt, dust and damage in your purse or suitcase, and also won’t be immediately recognizable as a sex toy to any nosy relative or TSA agent who happens to spot it.

In terms of what the toy actually does, though… This Womanizer has six intensity levels and no patterns, which I respect. I’m not a patterns person, but if you are, this isn’t the toy for you.

I don’t always love reviewing pressure-wave toys, because I find the differences between them more subtle and difficult to discern than the differences between vibrators or dildos. But this Womanizer actually feels markedly different from most other pressure-wave toys I’ve tried. It feels… thumpier? Stronger? Sharper? More aggressive? There’s an intensity to the sensation that I don’t often run across in these toys. It feels like someone is firmly tapping against my clit.

I imagine that this intensity is what makes the Womanizer Liberty such a hit with so many online reviewers. For me, it’s a bit hit-or-miss. My clit enjoys the first couple of modes, but after that, the jumps between settings start to feel a bit wide for my preferences. Things’ll be feeling good, and then I’ll hit the “+” button and be jarred out of the moment a little bit by how much more insistent the stimulation suddenly gets.

The thing is, sometimes that’s an unwelcome sensation for me, but other times, there’s a bit of forced-orgasm hotness to it – like a dom is holding a slightly-too-strong vibrator against my bits and trying to (consensually) induce a climax in me whether I like it or not.

And indeed, I have orgasmed several times with this toy. I will say, it’s a bit more hard-won than with some other toys, because I’m constantly engaged in a dance of turning up the toy when I want more and then turning it back down when I want less, until I finally reach orgasm. But frankly, I prefer that over some other pressure-wave toys that are so depressingly weak that they have no hope of getting me off. There’s never any doubt in my mind that the Womanizer Liberty by Lily Allen is gonna get me there, although it might take a while.

Perhaps my favorite feature of this toy is the buttons. There was a night recently when I was trying to sleep but kept having intrusive sexual fantasies about receiving oral (what else is new), so I decided to quickly jerk off so that hopefully I could get some shut-eye. Literally without removing my eye mask, I was able to reach over, grab this Womanizer, position it on my bits and turn it on. It only has two buttons, a “plus” one and a “minus” one, and the “plus” one is significantly larger. This makes it shockingly easy to operate this toy in the dark, even while half-asleep or intoxicated (trust me, I’d know).

This Womanizer is one of the more powerful pressure-wave toys I’ve tried, despite its small size. It’s also definitely the most travel-friendly of any I’ve used. It doesn’t stimulate as much of my clitoral shaft as the Lelo Sila – so if you have a larger clit, or are a transmasculine person with bottom growth, this may not be the one for you. It doesn’t have fancy patterns and modes, like the Womanizer Premium does.

But it’s probably the prettiest pressure-wave toy I own, at least for my particular aesthetic tastes, and it’s also one of the quietest and most discreet toys in their lineup. Whether or not you’re a Lily Allen fan, I think you stand a good chance of enjoying the Womanizer Liberty by Lily Allen. This sex toy company has had some failures and some successes, and I think this toy is firmly in the “successes” pile, even if it’s not my favorite ever.

 

Thanks to the folks at XOXTOYS for sending me this toy! This post was sponsored, meaning I was paid to write a fair and honest review of the product. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Review: Arcwave Voy

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Note from Kate: I asked my spouse to review the new Arcwave Voy because I was super curious about it. Enjoy!

The Arcwave Voy is the second toy in the relatively new premium Arcwave line of sex toys designed for “modern masculinity,” whatever that means. In less-weirdly-gendered reality, the toys from this We-Vibe sub-brand are designed to look elegant, feel sophisticated, and come in any color you want, so long as it’s black. The Voy is a space-age stroker for penises that follows up their innovative pressure wave toy for dicks, the Ion.

The Voy is a 4.5 inch long black cylindrical stroker which, much like the Fleshlight Quickshot line, is designed to be open on both ends when uncapped. When I first unboxed the toy, I was confused as to why there wasn’t a charger included, since its marketing promises an advanced feature called the TAS (tightness adjustment system) that I assumed worked via motorized suction. Plus, there’s a little circular Arcwave logo on the toy’s case that looks a lot like a power button. But TAS is actually much simpler than that. Twisting a knurled ring on the outside of the toy manually tightens and loosens the stroker; there a total of 8 different diameters to choose from. As it moves between settings, there’s a mechanical click and audible thunk, and the ridges readjust in a triangular shape to offer more stimulation to sensitive spots like the frenulum.

Other than the ability to manually tighten and loosen the walls of the toy during play, the other thing that sets the Voy apart from less expensive toys in the same category is its materials. The Voy’s sleeve is made from a glossy black body-safe “CleanTech” silicone that won’t degrade or hold onto bacteria like the TPR more commonly used in these types of toys, giving the Voy a huge leg up on cheaper strokers in terms of body-safety. It’s also nicely textured with geometric ribs, and fully waterproof. The plastic case and lids feel solid and screw together satisfyingly.

Using the Voy is simple. Unscrew both lids and set them aside, apply ample water-based lube (there’s a sample included) to both your penis and the sleeve, slip inside, and start strokin’. I started on the loosest setting and tightened as my arousal and erection built. The 8 different settings reminded me of different sensations:

1. Fleshlight Quickshot Vantage. Tight-ish but still very easy to penetrate.
2. An already aroused vagina. (Remember, the vagina usually expands during arousal in a process called tenting, to allow it to accommodate penetration.)
3. A vagina that’s tightened as if its owner is about to have an orgasm. This is my favorite setting to come inside, for hopefully obvious reasons.
4. The death grip: my tightest possible fist while masturbating. Useful when I’ve had one too many (drinks or orgasms) and need that extra stimulation to push me over the edge.
5. An unfeeling, robotic milking machine (I imagine) that has no purpose other than squeezing the cum out of me as efficiently as possible.
6-8. Vice grip. Oww. Too tight. Maybe good for CBT but not strictly pleasurable anymore.

Dick widths and hole tightness preferences vary widely, so I’ll note for science (not to brag) that my girth while erect is 46 mm and the Voy’s “insertion area” is 33 mm unstretched. Do with that information what you will.

The biggest issue I had with the Voy is its industrial design. The same quality materials that I praised do have some subtle flaws. The toy is heavier than its competitors due to its clever adjustable mechanism, which can make long sessions or use with chronic pain tiring. Its smooth finish can be hard to keep hold of with lubey hands. And the threaded ends mean that if you grip the toy tightly in the throes of pleasure, you might hurt your hand on some sharp edges. I also miss the translucency of the Quickshot, which is much more friendly than the Voy’s opaque black silicone for voyeurs.

But these are minor complaints. Overall, the Voy is the nicest manual stroker I’ve ever had the pleasure of being inside, and it looks completely innocuous on a nightstand or in a suitcase. Having a no-batteries-required, shower-ready, portable hole with adjustable tightness is the stuff of sexy science fiction, and I’m delighted to be able to own and fuck one on the regular.

If you want to buy one stroker that can service your dick or a partner’s through an entire session, travel easily, and last a long time, the Arcwave Voy might be for you. But if you’re just taking your first few strokes, start with a cheaper toy to make sure you like strokers before buying this one. The journey, or voyage, will be worth it.

 

This toy was sent to us free of charge for editorial consideration.

10 Myths People Mistakenly Believe About Sex Toy Reviewers

Kate Sloan
Pictured, from L to R: the Fucking Sculptures Double Trouble, Fucking Sculptures G-Spoon, Tantus Tsunami and VixSkin Mustang

I’ve been doing this sex toy reviewer thing for a long time – over a decade, in fact – and there are a handful of myths about my line of work that I run into again and again. Let’s bust ’em, baby.

  1. We “masturbate for a living.” Look, I completely understand why so many people react to hearing about my job in a way that boils down to “Must be nice!” My career, indeed, involves an activity I love (writing), focused on subject matter I’m passionate about (sex). I’m extremely privileged to have a job I enjoy and can physically do, despite the chronic illnesses I live with. But I promise you, I only spend about 2% of my working hours actually masturbating, if that – and it isn’t “normal” masturbation because it’s for work, not for pleasure. I have to pay attention, take notes, compare different toys to each other, etc. rather than just being able to enjoy myself, and often end up ruining my own orgasms in the process. It’s a fun job in many ways, yes, but probably not in the ways you’d think!
  2. Sex toy reviewing takes no skill. Uh, nope. Most people can hold a vibrator on their bits or insert a dildo into their body; most people cannot summarize and analyze the cultural context of that toy, compare it usefully to several others in its category, write a compelling and well-crafted review, take photos to go with it, pre-emptively answer questions that consumers will wonder about, promote reviews effectively on social media, implement SEO, keep up with industry trends, and so on and so forth. As with media workers in any specialized “beat,” sex toy reviewers tend to develop their own skillset and style. To devalue that is to misunderstand the work and what goes into it.
  3. We are sluts who are always DTF. Oh, certainly some of us are. I have been at certain times in my life. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a slut. But don’t assume someone’s personality and entire life revolve around sex just because their career does. And certainly don’t assume you’ll have an easier time getting laid if you’re on a date with a sexual media-maker than with anybody else. I often feel pressured to live up to the “manic sexy dream girl” fantasy some people seem to have about me, and it sucks.
  4. We prefer using toys over having sex with human beings. There’s nothing wrong with people who do feel this way, but it’s reductive to assume someone will feel this way because their work focuses on sex toys. And, as ever, I must remind you: sex toys and human partners are not mutually exclusive. The two can and do coexist in sexual encounters. Most of my best sex ever has involved toys.
  5. We can’t find sexual partners because they’re too intimidated by what they do. I have to laugh and call bullshit on this one. Many of my sex toy reviewer friends are in high demand in their sex/dating lives, sometimes partly because of what they do, not just in spite of it. As for reviewers for whom that’s not the case, it’s worth noting that it doesn’t even fucking matter. The number of sexual partners you attract or pursue has nothing to do with your intrinsic value as a human being, or the quality of the work that you do. And if someone would judge you for something as innocuous as reviewing sex toys, IMO they’re not worth dating or fucking anyway.
  6. We’re also sex workers. Some of us are (kudos to those folks!), and I have dabbled in sex work myself and usually enjoyed it. But it’s strange to assume that someone writing about sex toys automatically means they’ll sell you nudes or a cam show, or that you’ll be able to meet up with them for sex, paid or unpaid.
  7. We sell sex toys. It continues to surprise me how often I get emails and DMs from people who think that I run a sex toy store, or who want me to supply them with wholesale sex toys to sell at their shop. I do not do this and have never done this, but there are plenty of great stores and distributors out there that do sell toys (including wholesale adult toys) if that’s what you’re after!
  8. Sex toy reviewing can only ever be a hobby. To be clear, there are a ton of people for whom sex toy reviewing is a hobby or a side gig, and that’s absolutely valid! But in my case, it actually is the vast majority of the work that I do, and brings in the vast majority of my income – so it’s funny and sometimes a bit insulting when people say stuff like, “Oh, fun! What’s your actual job, though?”
  9. We owe you details about our personal life. I get that when someone shares intimate details about themselves, it can be surprising that they’d choose to be private and guarded in other areas of their life. But one thing sex toy reviewing has taught me is that I can be selectively open. Good boundary-setting is an important part of the job, I think.
  10. We’ll regret it. I do know people who have regretted reviewing sex toys, often because they incurred harassment online, offline, or both, from people who thought that this work was worthy of denigration or evidence of some kind of moral failing. But a lot of sex toy reviewers use pseudonyms precisely so that they can do this work without (as much) fear of it coming back to bite them in the ass. I did that myself for several years, fearing repercussions if future employers stumbled across what I’d been writing – but then I realized that this was what I was meant to do, full-time, so I came out publicly about my name and identity and have never once regretted it.

What myths have you heard about sex toy reviewers?

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

What My Objectification Kink Taught Me About Relationships

Kate Sloan

There are many forms of “objectification play” that I’ve experimented with, and the older I get, the more I seem to enjoy this kink.

There’s the version where I’m a literal object, usually a piece of furniture like a footstool or drink-holder, performing a functional service that may not appear outwardly sexual but can feel very sexual on the inside.

There’s the version where I pretend to be a doll – either a literal, porcelain doll, or a full-grown adult who’s been transformed via hypnosis or drugs into a “human sex doll” – and then get to be “used” by my “owner.”

There’s the form of objectification that most non-kinky people are familiar with, the kind that shows up in fashion magazines and in plenty of porn, wherein I’m viewed as a sexual object without agency or personhood, just a series of willing and fuckable holes.

And there are lots more ways this kink can play out that I haven’t even tried yet.

 

As with many kinks of mine, a lot of what appeals to me about objectification is the way it helps me reclaim and subvert shitty nonconsensual experiences I’ve had in the past. All the Tinder bros who text shit like “u up?” and “ready to be my fuk machine tonight?” All the hookups who cared more about getting off than giving pleasure. All the times I thought I meant something to my date on an emotional level – even one as simple as “I like her and like having conversations with her” – but it turns out that apparently I didn’t.

The sting of these mistreatments has eased a bit after several years, but I can still bring those feelings vibrantly to mind if I focus on those memories. Because I’ve paired that type of objectification with consent and pleasure in roleplays with trusted partners, the idea of being sexually objectified in this way is no longer quite as abhorrent to me – because I know it can be done in consensual ways.

Granted, none of the people with whom I’ve play-acted objectification actually saw me as objects; that was what allowed the play-acting to indeed feel like play and not like senseless cruelty.

 

As someone who writes about sex toys professionally (including, occasionally, sex dolls), I find it oddly gratifying to pretend to be a sex toy of sorts from time to time. There’s something subversive and relaxing to me about setting aside the sexual machines I’ve been writing about all day and then getting to morph into a sexual machine myself.

See, when I’m being objectified in a deeply consensual and intentional way, my mind gets to shut off. And I value that a lot, as someone whose mind is always racing with anxiety and deadlines.

But also, in my career as a sex scribe, I’ve encountered countless people who thought that my career choice was an invitation for harassment and nonconsensual sexualization. They thought that my creative interest in topics like sexual psychology and the history of the porn industry was reason enough to see me as a walking, talking sex doll who exists to spice up their boring lives.

I understand the desire to have your life overtaken by someone interesting and magical – it’s the reason “manic pixie dream girl” stories continue to get cranked out year after year. It’s also something I’ve felt myself, during long hours of swiping on Tinder late into the night, always hoping that the next swipe would conjure a life-altering force, someone so cute and charming and kind and loving that my entire daily existence would take on a different tenor just from having them around.

But as I’ve been learning in therapy, viewing other people as potential “redeemers” or “saviors” gives your power away. It strips you of the knowledge that you have the ability to make yourself happy more readily and more profoundly than any external person can. It makes you feel dependent on people you never actually needed and maybe never even really wanted.

 

So I’ve been on both sides of the objectification equation: I’ve been objectified (a lot), and in some ways I’ve objectified other people too, seen them as heroes or saviors or props in my life story.

This is no doubt why it feels so good to me now when I play with objectification, from either side of the D/s slash. Because it shows me the difference between the consensual and nonconsensual versions of these dynamics – and even equips me with the communication tools I need to say, “No. Stop. You’re putting me in a role I didn’t consent to, and I will not stand for that.”

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.