If you've ever wanted to know how a nice Jewish girl like Merrill Nisker became Peaches, the new feature film slash documentary "Peaches Does Herself" won't exactly connect the dots for you.
If you'd like to see Peaches and her Fatherfucker Dancers reenact her rise to fame—complete with a giant bed that looks like a vulva, dancers in pink zentai that are orgiastically unzipped, and a surgery gone awry, then Peaches Does Herself offers all of that and more. Besides Peaches and her dancers, "Peaches Does Herself" stars Sandy Kane, of New York City public access fame—she's a former stripper in her sixties who wields a dildo [...]
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— Heritage Foundation (@Heritage) April 29, 2013
Ladies, finally there is an advocacy thinktank that thinks like you, believes like you, hates gay marriage and abortion like you—and pins hot guys on the Internet like you! Hubba hubba, etc.
Appearing here Wednesdays, Turning The Screw provides existential crisis counseling for the faint of heart. "Because he's just not that into anything, really, except himself."
I met this funny, quiet, artistic, and all-around wonderful man shortly after I had escaped from an abusive relationship. We hit it off and started out a casual (albeit, exclusive) thing. I saw from the beginning that he was a bit of a flirt, in a self-deprecating, sarcastic kind of way that made women go "Oh youuuuu!" but hey, that's what drew ME to him in the first place, so what the hell.
Fast forward 2.5 years. We've moved in together, [...]
Modern women, are you constantly feeling "drunk" even when you've had a break from drinking—perhaps during the six-hour break from alcohol known as bedtime? The latest problem you have may be more than a recycling bin full of wine bottles. The quack doctor who always writes those no-questions-asked 'scrips (recommended by the quack psychiatrist who keeps your amphetamine jar filled) may be double-dosing you with Ambien, the wildly popular sleeping pill that suffocates your nightly mental battle with the bug-eyed entities grandma called "demons" and your parents called "aliens" and your college friends called "machine elves" and your dog just barks at insanely, night after night. Why do [...]
Let's hear it for the 33-year-old Red Hook chick who, at noon on August 25th, "was approached by a strange man who immediately pointed a black revolver at her head. The victim threw her iced coffee in the face of the assailant, tossed her cell phone and bag on the ground, then fled, police said." WORK. (For the record, that is NOT how you are supposed to react to a "strange man" with a gun, in fact quite the opposite, but sure feels good, don't it?)
Why at this late date are we still reinforcing the idea that women are modest and fragile and in need of gender-specific accommodations? Lowder seems to suggest that the arrival of James Deen's mild-enough flavor of porn is some sort of victory for women. As I see it, the only thing necessarily lady-friendly about soft-core scenes is that they come with less stigma than the real stuff. Watching this vanilla variety of porn might feel, for some, like less of a betrayal of one's feminist values—because the sex depicted is a little gentler, not quite as rapey as what you might expect of, say, a typical S&M scene—but [...]
Brace yourself. Caitlin Flanagan has an exceedingly perceptive and well-done essay in the Atlantic! Sure, there is a psychologically deep-seated and somewhat deranged whiff of/riff on gender essentialism (boys like Hunter Thompson and girls like Joan Didion!), but hey, that's at least a little true. For one thing, she draws well the obvious connections that Didion and John Gregory Dunne were the most extreme caricatures of their generation of parents (in short: rather terrible), the parents who made their childrens' generation into helicoptering nightmares.