Unless I step into the voting booth on November 4th, close that weird spring-tension curtain, flick down all the little switches, pull the space-shuttle emergency brake lever, cast my votes, and am then sexually gratified by a stars-and-stripes sex toy to the point of experiencing the longest, hardest orgasm of my life—I don’t think I’m going to be satisfied by the results of Election 2008.

As most voting stations around the country cannot be relied upon to properly perform their one and only function—to accurately record and report the number of votes cast for each respective candidate—I suppose I won’t stand around on November 4th with my dress up around my waist, waiting for a full body flush and sweet release. [ . . . ] Continue »

We realized that something was very wrong when, following Sarah Palin’s keynote speech Wednesday night, I stood in our kitchen screaming and sobbing while repeatedly beating the oven door with a dish towel. Holy media-induced mental break, Batman!

About a half an hour into this preposterous, wholly unproductive behavior, my tongue felt thick, my head swirled, and a knot of sadness and shame settled into the pit of my stomach. [ . . . ] Continue »

Strap on your merkins*; it’s time to talk about the ladies.

* Yes, a “merkin” is a pubic wig. Just marinate on that.

By the time the opening credits of “Sex And The City: The Movie” flickered across the screen, my eyes had rolled to the back of my head, and my body was limply twitching into submission to the beat of a new Fergie song that sounded a lot like that other song of hers about the glamour of dental hygiene. [ . . . ] Continue »