Masturbation Monday: Why Men Wanking Off Is Such an Embarrassment

men having sex with themselves

Choke the Chicken, Flog the Hog, Yank the Crank

or

Male Masturbation Gets the Shaft

I talk about fucking myself ALL the time. Most people do not do this. Most people keep their wanking off stories to themselves. I suppose this makes sense. Most people do not go around talking about how much they enjoy brushing their teeth, what the best toothbrushes are, how to really get in there with the bristles and get that gum disease off. So, I get why it might be a mundane subject to people. Because, yes, masturbation should be part of every person’s daily maintenance just like brushing one’s teeth.

So why is there so much stigma around dudes’ cuffing their carrots?

It probably has something to do with the phallocentrism that pops up all over our earth and of course, let us not forget the patriarchy.

We get it. You have a PENIS! Congrats.

The rest of the world doesn’t need to hear or see or smell anything to do with it. Keep it in your pants! Or take it out, buff the banana, and carry on your day.

You’re horny. You watch porn. You take pics of your dick and send it out to randos hoping one or two may bite–not literally– and send you some sexy pics back.

The stigma stems from TMD. Too much dick.

It’s a culture oversaturated — not by seeing dick necessarily — but by the unseen dicks’ need to shower the world with its creamy milk juice (over and over and over again).

Of course, this stigma makes talking about male masturbation as an art much harder.

For example, guys are not going around discussing tips for better baloney boppin.

Don’t even get me started on the toy industry! There are SOME good toys for the penis, but of course clits & g-spots by far rule this market.

Is talking about male masturbation in a mature way even possible? I don’t know. That’s the other thing about pounding the flounder, it’s almost always portrayed in mass media as something funny. Because the penis is funny let’s be honest. Sure, it’s sexy and hard and like a powerful rod of magic and delight, but still, male masturbation does not have the same sort of appeal as say ass fucking does or even watching a hot girl stick a wet carrot in her mouth.

I don’t know guys. You tell me. This is just round 1 on this topic as I feel like I have a lot to learn and I’m relying on YOU to inform me. So comment below or send me an email. Let me know your thoughts on the stigma surrounding teasing the weasel.

Also– buy this if you want a good male masturbator:

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Sometimes The Hardest Thing To Do Is Get Out of Bed

depression anger heat sadness

Yes, I’m Still Stuck In Bed, But I’m Working

or

Help! Send Food. And Beer.

Sure. I like talking about SEX. But that was never the entire intention of Go Eat a Carrot. The purpose was for me to let loose on all the truth I have bottled up in me. And what’s true today is that I’m tired of trying to conform to other people’s desires. Yes, there’s an entire world out there of sexploration to be had, but I’m not in the mood.

There I said it, the horniest woman on the planet is not in the mood.

We must have entered an alternate universe.

I’m hot. I’m overheated. I’m bordering the line of anger and depression. I could cave in and just embrace the gray but why do that when I can fight it off?

I haven’t been to the grocery store in weeks. The last thing I ate yesterday was BBQ leftover from my friend’s 4th of July party. You know, a party that happened more than a week ago. Somehow I’m still alive and mostly getting all of my calories from beer, which I also ran out of last night.

You know in Denver you can get all of the above delivered to you? Groceries, beer, even sex if you know how to use Tinder right.

But I refuse! I have two legs. I can walk to the store. Yet, I don’t. I open the fridge and go,

‘oh look, three rotting limes and one old carrot. Guess I’ll come back and look in here again in 15 minutes and hope things have changed.”

At least I still have hope even though nothing changes unless you actually do the things that make changes, hence why I’m still stuck here, hungry, thinking about making a lime/carrot juice.

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Wet & Wild Wednesday: This Boob’s For You

boobs instagram and body positivity

When You’re Angry and Depressed Just Get Naked

or

Your Body is Just a Body Moving Your Body Around

(Enjoy the video rant. An angry cry may occur in it)

I have, for many years, gone through phases where I fall into these dark holes. They’re dirtier and darker than anal holes let me tell you. Hippie-dippie people like to call it “the shadow self.” Whatever. It’s usually more menacing than a shadow, more like an empty cave that has a terrible heating and cooling system.

I care not about getting out of bed. I contemplate how I do not want to be here. And when I say here I mean Denver. I mean the United States. I mean Planet Earth. I mean here in this body.

I question my worth. I question every choice I’ve ever made. I question the people in my life and what might possibly be wrong with them to choose to spend time with me.

It starts as a simmer. Turns to a boil. Evaporates into nothingness.

The nothingness.

The care not.

The heavy gray blanket that suffocates and keeps me from moving forward.

I return to my body.

It’s funny because I imagine that many people think I’m putting up pics of my tits and ass on Instagram as some sort of desperate plea for attention. Of course, I enjoy attention but that’s not my motivation.

I do it because it’s what I have to give.

We’re all put into these vessels of flesh to learn and grow and connect. I happen to be blessed with a body that other people seem to enjoy looking at. What do I care if they look at it? Sure, I’m in charge with taking care of this thing and I could do a better job about that, but I believe we all should experience more pleasure. So here I am, mostly naked, giving strangers pleasure.

Perhaps deep down I’m just a giver with not much to give.

One day this body will be rotting in the ground and no one will want to look at it then so I might as well take some pics of it now so there’s digital proof of its existence.

I found a sentence in an old journal of mine that read,

“We’re all afraid of going after our dreams because if we fail, we will have nothing left.”

Well, I quit my job nearly a year ago to write a book. I wrote the first draft of that book.

And here I am left.
Nothing.

Yet, everything.

The opportunity to edit and write Draft 2.

The opportunity to keep showing off my boobs.

The opportunity to connect to you and you and you.

So sure, I like the attention, but it’s merely a side note to a much bigger picture. The concept that we get to move around in this package of bones and muscle and blood and skin and shit; that it’s all we really have right here where we are until we are not here anymore.

So fuck it. I embrace the dark. The light. The unknown. The complete and total hot mess that I am. And of course, I embrace the boobs.

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Tits Out Tuesday: Free the Nipple Movement v. Feminism v. Objectification

free the nipple movement

Free the Nipple Movement, is it Feminist?

or

Why Are Your Tits Out All the Time?

You know, I started this blog because I like giving blow jobs. I like giving blow jobs and I feel guilty about enjoying it because somewhere deep down in my feminist bloodline I feel guilty about liking dick.

After 3 days of mania that also included giving one of the best blow jobs I have ever given–I believe it was described as “transcendent,”–my throat chakra opened, I ditched my liberal identity, and began talking about pleasure as a political tool for growth and change. Of course, I don’t always outright say it. Mostly I just talk about sex stuff, but the point is when we all experience more joy, love, orgasms, the world is a better place. When we all can open up about what and who we like, we can all experience our environments in deeper, more profound ways.

As Go Eat A Carrot has grown I’ve been contacted by some interesting people to say the least. Recently a modeling agency reached out to me.

Now I will tell you right now that for a second in time my EGO almost got the best of me. But, there was something off about the email.

The woman who sent it explained that the agency had booked models for

“Playboy, Maxim, Sports Illustrated, and FHM to name a few.”

Then she went on to say how a different client was looking to film a pro-feminist documentary about the Free the Nipple Movement and body positivity.

She wrapped up the email with my favorite part:

“If interested please respond with your name, age, height, weight, and standard body measurements.”

Perhaps I’m cynical. Skeptical. A non-believer in the GOOD of people. But, if you’re a modeling agency booking women for Playboy, then you reach out to a non-model to be in your “pro-feminist” doc about body positivity only to follow it up by asking how FAT they are, I mean, you clearly are unaware of what kind of documentary you’re actually making.

It sounds like your client is using the Free the Nipple Movement and the body positivity movements to create a film that claims to be feminist only to continue to objectify women–but now women of ALL shapes and SIZES.

Anniversary Collection

Cool.

Coolio.

Cool carrot.

I objectify myself quite often. But I am making the conscious choice to do so. And sure, it’s okay to mix sexuality with feminism. What’s not okay is to lie about your intentions. It appears to me that this company’s intentions is to make money off of the female body by playing off the current cultural phenomenon of feminism, which leaves a bad bad taste in my mouth. (Yes, even worse than stale ejaculate).

The whole point of the Free the Nipple movement is to de-sexualize female breasts.

It’s really fucking annoying that the only time we see boobs are in sexual contexts. The idea is that if we normalize the nude body maybe everyone will calm down a bit. Perhaps be able to keep it in their pants when it needs to be kept in the pants. You know, like when women are breastfeeding their babies, that would be a pretty good time to not get a boner about boobs.

I mean, dudes can get turned on by elbows and feet and fingers and ANYTHING attached to a body really, so why make the boobs extra special? They have nipples and areolas too, some dudes even have boobs that are bigger than some women’s boobs, but if they wanted to walk around shirtless that would be okay?

Come on!

Anyway. I’ll all for freeing the nipple. I’m even for documentaries about body positivity and freedom of expression etc. but only if that’s what the documentaries are actually about and not some trick to show more boobs for guys to wank off to … there’s enough porn out there for that. In fact, there are porn categories for ALL the different boobs sizes guys like to wank off to. The Free the Nipple Movement goes beyond that, to the place where people can look at nipples and not feel the immediate need to spank the frank or diddle the skittle or whatever.

Here’s a toy you can buy for your wanking off pleasure:

Wantis Premium Male Dual Channel Space

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Friday Feels: Free My Nipples

free the nipple movement

Tits Out, Only in Theory

or

Why Are We All So Obsessed with Nipples?

So, a few days ago I got my first STRIKE on youtube for a video I posted about two weeks ago titled, “Tits Out Truth Bombs Tuesday: Morning Thoughts on Thicc Thick Women.”

They removed it for “inappropriate content.”

AKA

My nipple fell out of my robe for all of one second (maybe 2 seconds) in the video.

no more video about thick women
Womp, Womp.

I have videos where I talk about rubbing my pussy on a dude’s bald head. I have videos where I discuss why threesomes are the best somes. Yet, the video where I discuss body image issues and what it’s like being a slightly thicker (though not even that thick) woman which just happens to have a moment of tit gets me in trouble on the internet.

It’s funny because not everyone has rubbed their vulva across a shiny bald head nor has everyone on the planet been involved in a threesome BUT every human has nipples.

Even babies and grandmas have nipples.

We ALL have nipples. (except perhaps some people that were involved in some crazy accidents or were born with a genetic defect I don’t want to be 100% on this just in case).

But because my nipples are attached to a body that people think about having sex with then surely EVERY TIME my nipple slips out I am intentionally attempting to give the world a giant boner.

I know, I know. I violated their fucking rules. But, sometimes rules are dumb.

In this case, as an example, that rule is dumb.

It’s supposed to “protect children” ?

So,

1. Children aren’t supposed to see nipples?!
2. Children are on the internet unsupervised?!

Just a little bit confused about both of these scenarios. Pretty sure that children have nipples. See how having nipples is not an automatic sexual thing? I believe our culture is WAY too update about the naked body. Are we seriously only supposed to see the naked body when we’re having sex? No wonder the body is overly objectified and people can’t seem to handle nudity without blowing a gasket (or a load in some instances).

Also, why are children on youtube looking up sex stuff? At least my channel has some educational purposes to it, but perhaps if your children are curious about sex stuff there are ways to talk to them about it without them having to fall down a strange youtube hole?!

In any event. I’ll be watching my nipples more closely now.

Interested in seeing this BANNED youtube video?!

Email me and I’ll tell you how many carrots it’s worth 😉

lelo amazing sex kit
Someone buy this for me or someone you love.

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Hope, Fear, Depression, Pleasure: Thoughts on Anthony Bourdain and Suicide

bourdain, depression, suicide

On Depression and Pleasure

or

Fuck This Shit

I, like everyone else, woke up this Friday morning to the news that Anthony Bourdain has committed suicide.

And course, there was Kate Spade just a couple of days ago who did the same.

I’m not sure if anyone else is feeling not only heartbreak but fear. Fear that no matter what you do, what you have, what you’ve gained, what you’ve lost. No matter how good it seems for a moment–the demons will always come back. The demons will always win.

All of these beautiful creatures who walk the earth broken, fragile, scraping by every day just trying to connect to something other than pain. Other than the heavy blanket of suffocating grayness that covers so many of us and keeps us alive, but barely. Every once in awhile lifting up, lungs filling with love and light–and then abruptly reappearing right when we think we’ve made it through, right when we forget that we ever had felt that way before. The cruelest joke in the world. Played over and over on so many souls.

This is so hard I think because we saw someone we could truly relate to in Bourdain. Flawed. Yet, able to rise above those flaws and do something.

Something.

Which is often the hardest thing to do at all when you’re being smothered by the thoughts that none of it matters. That it’s all a waste.

Is it?

I’ve often thought so.

Yet, there has always been that slight glimmer; often very very far away, yet, because I’m lucky or tortured I’ve held onto that hope. Hope that the demons will leave me the fuck alone for a day. Hope that at some point I can be strong enough that if they do come back I can drop kick their asses and they will go away only to never return.

There’s that hope.

But there’s also that fear. The knowing that they will return no matter what. And that maybe one day there will be no fight left.

The thing that I relate to so strongly with Bourdain– is that when all else fails, the road to pleasures opens.

Here’s what I mean.

When I gave up entirely. When I wanted to die and felt like I had nothing left. I let it all go.

During a three-day sativa-ridden mania I came to this basic conclusion:

“Fuck this shit. If I already want to die. If I feel like death. If none of it matters, then I’m going to go out in the world and squeeze every last drop of pleasure that I can possibly get. I’m going to be raw and open and so honest it hurts. Because there’s nothing left for me. Except for those things. And if I connect with people along the way, good. If doing this changes me and the demons no long come around, great. But I’m going to ride it until the last drop of wine, the bite of steak, the last loud and long and ecstatic-driven orgasm.”

This is how I relate to Bourdain because when I see him, flawed, yet out there traveling the world, enjoying the simple pleasures, it seems like he had finally figured it out. That he had figured out how to say, “fuck this shit,” and win.

That’s why there is both hope and fear.

The hope that I can carry on a bit longer without the gray suffocating me again and the fear of knowing that one day it will be too heavy to get out from under, no matter what.

This is why I tell people to, “Go Eat A Carrot.”

It’s basically a triple entendre (which is one of my favorite things to write in the world):

1. Go literally eat an orange phallic-shaped vegetable (aka take care of yourself).
2. You suck as a person, go eat a dick (aka STFU).
3. You suck real good, keep on sucking that dick and eating that pussy (aka we all deserve more pleasure from this devastatingly beautiful and hard as fuck world).

And with that, because I never know when the cruelest joke in the world will make its return into my own life, I just want to thank everyone who has ever supported me, loved me, hated me, cheered me on, wished for my failures, eaten my pink taco (and vice versa), let me lick their carrot, brought me flowers, brought be sandwiches, talked to me, talked me out of it, talked me into something that I didn’t want to do but it made all the difference; really each and every one of you out there who makes this place so fucking amazing and awful at the same time. I seriously thank you, because yeah I know, it’s super cheesy and pseudo -sciencey but we’re all here right now, we’re all connected whether we want to be or not; we each do our best and I’m grateful to be a part of that, even if sometimes my best is just breathing through the day.

P.S.
If you’re feeling like shit, if you’re feeling like you’re trapped on the top floor of a burning building and the only way out is to jump, please fucking reach out to someone first. And if they don’t help, reach out to someone else. It sucks and it’s hard but keep reaching because I swear to the fucking goddesses in all of the universe that someone somewhere will take your fucking hand and lift you up (or like bring a long-ass ladder over so you can climb out the building). It’s okay. Nothing really matters. Everything is beautiful. Enjoy the pleasures.

P.P.S.
Burning building/ hi-rise thing was written by David Foster Wallace another beautiful soul gone too soon. Here’s some of that quote just because it’s stuck with me since I read Infinite Jest and it might be the most poignant moment in that long fucking confusing powerful gorgeous horrible lovely book:

“The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.”

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Tits Out Truth Bombs Tuesday: LGBTQ Corporate Marketing Rainbow Washing Bullshit

Pride month lgtbq marketing

 

Taste The Colors of the Rainbow of Profit

or

LGTBQ+ People Have Money Too, Let’s Get It!

This is how I imagine the conversation goes at like every corporate company’s marketing strategy meeting for the summer quarter.

“What do we got coming up that we can profit from?”

“Hmm. Well. Next month is June. There’s Father’s Day?”

“Yeah, but like, no one really likes their fathers.”

“Flag Day?”

“Come on really? What are we going to do with that?!”

“Juneteenth is a pretty big deal.”

“I don’t even know what the hell that is?! Give us something to really go on!”

“Umm… the first official day of summer happens.”

“Over-used.”

“Oh! What about the Gays?! The Gays have money they like to spend on stuff too!”

“Yeah, but what about the Gays?”

“June is Pride month.”

“Oh right. What’s there for the Gays to be so proud about again?”

(*The one gay person at end of table cringes*)

“Does it matter? We could just put a rainbow on everything for the month and everyone will think we’re so tolerant and accepting and then we’ll be loved by the gays and the straights and our profit margin will increase.”

“Wait. All we have to do is put a rainbow on all our marketing material for a month?”

“Yeah. And we could probably just get Steve the Intern to do it.”

“Is Steve gay?”

“I don’t know. He’s graphic designer?”

“Are graphic designer’s gay?”

*shrugs*

Sure, that’s a hypothetical meeting, but as someone who has worked in marketing for many years, it’s not a stretch. In fact, Rainbow Washing might be becoming worse than October’s Pink-Washing for Breast Cancer Awareness.

As stated in above hypothetical conversation, Rainbow Washing is when a company uses the Rainbow Symbol, a symbol that represents all the different spectrums of sexualities and ways of being, less so to show support and more so to make a profit.

Of course, these companies may argue that they’re both trying to show support and make a profit. Sure, whatever, thanks for trying? But sorry, Budweiser still tastes like Budweiser even when you put two hot gay guys on a poster and stick a rainbow behind them. Yeah, I get it. Gay people also drink beer, but maybe we’d like your companies more if you thought about us more than one month out the year? Like, if you actually showed support by I don’t know, supporting us, than by just saying, “You Go, Ya Gays!”

(To be clear, I am not gay. I am attracted to people regardless of their gender identity. This does not mean I fuck everyone, but I’ve probably fucked more people than you.)

The most recent rainbow washing that got up my ass the most was this literal rainbow flag painting of two crosswalks along South Broadway here in Denver. It would be fine if a couple of people went out and threw down some ROY G BIV, but no, they have to make it way more complicated. They’ve estimated the cost to be around $25,000.

$25,000?

In the grand scheme of things $25,000 is nothing. BUT, to paint sidewalks when there are so many people in need of housing, food, medical care etc.? Nah, dudes, nah.

Then there was the whole Ipsy thing. I just started getting Ipsy a few months ago and I had really been enjoying it. Have to say, your marketing department has NO LGBT+ on staff (or they’re silenced) if you think it’s acceptable to say “authentic women v. trans women.” You all are selling makeup. EVERYONE wears makeup these days because that’s how good we’ve gotten at marketing… where you at?! Fucking authentic woman? That’s even worse than that bullshit phrase, “real women have ___.” Or “real women do ____” Real women? Authentic women?

(If you want to get super theoretical, there are no REAL or AUTHENTIC any ONE anymore. We are all copies of copies of copies, but that’s a major digression.)

Anyway, I appreciate that the company has issued an apology and on top of that they’re now working to learn more about the full spectrum of ways of being that exist on this planet.

Do marketing companies need to have this understanding? Why does it matter if Pepsi or United Airlines or Cover Girl or any or all companies grasp the concepts of intersectionality? Why does it matter if they know anything about the LGBTQ+ communities or being a minority or being from working class or how all of it intersects with each other to cause oppression and struggle?

I don’t know? Maybe because all of these people use money to buy things too (when they have it at least). And if you want us to buy things then we want you to understand us or at least make it seem like it’s not so obvious you’re using us.

How could you possibly do this?

Hmm. Well. Maybe start by hiring LGBTQ+, minorities, freaks, geeks, weirdos, to come on board and help you. And by hire, I mean equal pay. I mean giving these people agency. I mean listening to what we have to say and not just staffing us as another attempt to “look good.”

I get it, I get it. Of course it’s not ALL companies. Some companies actually are supportive blah blah. That’s not really what I’m saying.

I’m saying to all the companies out there Rainbow Washing to make a profit, we’re on to you, we’re watching you, and most of us would rather you have our backs then post a few extra pops of color on your ads for one month out the year.

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