Who needs Oprah? Here are Erin's favorite things:

The Devil's in the cards: ornaments from Hixsons

Hixsons is an old-timey place on Detroit Avenue in Lakewood (if you live in northeast Ohio and you do not go there once in a while, you are dumb). I used to walk to Hixson's as a kid and sit at the (now defunct) soda fountain, marvel over the psychedelic black light posters (hey, this was the 70's) and buy a piece of maple candy on my way out.

Today, the backroom still comes alive for the holidays, complete with vintage animatronic characters from the old Halle's downtown department store windows and the best selection of European glass ornaments around, many of which were designed by Bill Hixson. If you're lucky, Mr. Hixson will be in the store and will gladly sign and date  yours.

Fondue pot of humble hostess

I really love my cast iron fondue pot. There are plenty on the market. This one will put you back about $80. But what the hell do I care about that? I bought mine at Unique Thrift for $6, which is WHY I SHOULD BE IN CHARGE OF EVERYTHING.

You can't beat this faux fur throw; you also can't wash it. But you can buy a trio of wonderful handmade lavendar sachets from zJayne and toss them in the dryer with the furry blankie on the air setting. The throw comes out fluffy and fresh. I love these sachets so much that I keep one in a glass jar on my desk and breathe in the scent of it whenever I need a little pick-me-up.

Liberty Puzzle under construction

The most beautiful wood puzzles you have ever seen come from Liberty Puzzles. Can't afford a Liberty? Springbok is a high-quality cardboard puzzle with great images and fun shaped pieces. And a tip o' the hat to RedisCover for their easy and funky two-sided odes to Rock 'n' Roll.

For a distinct crispy salty crunch that you have to experience to believe, Tell City Pretzel makes the best hard pretzels in all the land.

And to those gifters out there who are still on the fence over this high-dollar decision, I absolutely love love love my iPad.

You want the perfect stocking stuffer? This mini tripod goes anywhere (it fits in my purse) and has greatly improved my low light photographic endeavors.

Photo by humble hostess courtesy of point and shoot cam and mini tripod

Now dig this: Turns out his mother still keeps his foreskin in formaldehyde and he now is an expert at reading Tarot cards. It also turns out that you can get a whole book of sentences that fine: Gears by Alex Pruteanu.

Asbach confection serving suggestion

While we're on the subject, The Irish Hungarian Guide to the Domestic Arts is funny as hell and God knows we could all use a laugh. So if you want to give a little Erin O'Brien to someone on your list, do it by way of my book. It will not disappoint.

Let's end this on a sweet note. Asbach Pralinen Zarte Flaschchem is a very fine (and I daresay tiny) dark chocolate bottle that is lined with a sugar crust and filled with brandy (I am not shitting you). Available locally at Hansa Import Haus. Or go booze free with a Dagoba Chai chocolate bar, which is essentially a spiced chocolate orgasm enhanced with flecks of crystallized ginger.

As you can see, I know what I'm talking about. I just had one:

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Lightbulb schmightbulb

Although the following assertion is going to rile certain portions of the readership, I'm putting it out there anyway:

Bellyaching about having to use energy-efficient light bulbs is pure candy-ass.

CODE ORANGE NEWS ALERT: Using your incandescent light bulbs to heat your house is dumb dumb dumb. You go to touch a light bulb that's been on a few minutes? You burn your candy-ass fingertips? You just proved my point.

Yes, I know the curly bulbs aren't the most aesthetically appealing. Yes, I'm pretty sure you can buy good-looking energy efficient bulbs. No, I haven't researched said topic. Yes, we still have some hotbulbs* in our house, including five above the kitchen table on a dimmer and four in my bathroom, also on a dimmer. Yes, my family eats in low light. No, I don't put my makeup on in low light (I'm 46 years old for chrissake). Yes, the heat from the bathroom bulbs makes me crazy in the summer (no AC) and guiltily indulgent in the winter (the thermostat is set to 64 [day] and 60 [night]). Yes, I have to find energy efficient replacements for these fixtures. Yes, I realize this yes/no format is cloying. No, that is not me featured in today's graphic.

Our electric bill averaged $73 over the past 12 months. Kiss my ass.

And it doesn't end there. We** used to replace the bulbs over kitchen sink about every three months. Now it's every three or four years. How beautiful is that you silly candy-ass righties?

That said, even I have my limits when it comes to conservation.

The Goat (from behind the newspaper last night): They've got a light bulb that costs forty bucks and supposed to last 25 years.

Me ( hovering over my jigsaw puzzle): Really? (long pause) Dunno, though, hon.

The Goat: What?

Me: We might not live that long.

The Goat (he's nine years older than me): We're pushing it, huh?

Me: Yup.

##

*Hotbulbs? Dear Lord, please tell me I've just coined a new word.

**The readership will note the Goat's objection to the authoress's pronoun selection in this sentence.

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To hell with Weiner, give me Joe Namath in pantyhose

Prior to the Twitter kerfuffle, I knew nothing of Anthony Weiner and I'm not interested in him now. All kinds of people have been having all kinds of sex for a long time. So what?

That said, it's funny how the blood red rightie blogs out there are clamoring on and on about Weiner, but had little to say about that Nevada dandy, John Ensign.

When it comes to sex scandals, I stick to one of my cardinal rules: The Only Sex You Need To Worry About Is The Sex You're Having.

I am not completely mum on sex scandals. I wrote about Senator Larry Craig when that scandal broke. In fact, I wrote about him twice.

John Edwards also got my attention.

Yeah, yeah. This stuff has been going on forever. The righties can have their fun over some silly underwear pic. I'd rather dig Joe Namath in pantyhose in 1973. HELL YEAH!

I don't think you understood me. I want to get some drivers.

The contrast of this four minutes of footage against what follows in the 1972 film Deliverance mesmerizes me. Wardrobe, set, dialog, casting and staging--it all works here.

Dig the hats, and the way the one local starts dancing. Dig the shape of the banjo kid's face. His behavior at the end of the segment embodies understated foreshadowing.

And would you look at Burt Reynolds for chrissake? God help me, would you look at Burt Reynolds?

(Everyone take a moment, please, and pay some respect to Dinah Shore, who had 20 years on Reynolds and was bedding him right around the time this film was made. Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah, indeed.)

I shall not end this post without a reference to the outspoken conservative Jon Voight (who admittedly was pretty hot back then). Voight not only sired Angelina Jolie, he starred with Jane Fonda in the 1978 film Coming Home. It includes a steamy scene in which Voight's character orally services Fonda's character thereby delivering her inaugural climax.

Poetry, people. Pure poetry.

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The six most unfortunate marital aids

1. Little Steel Tonight

For $2000, a person should expect something that a) has a better name and b) packs more punch than a 5" tube that's a mere 2/3" in diameter for chrissakes. Who cares if it's emblazoned with hand-written lyrics from Dave Stewart (of the Eurhythmics)?

You can buy a cucumber three times that size at the discount grocery for 79¢. So it doesn't vibrate. So what? Your "Little Steel Tonight" only packs a two-out-of-five on the intensity scale anyway. Strap your $7 Spinbrush to your cucumber if you want to get your buzz on. You're still way ahead of the money game and when you're done, you can make a salad*. Now that's green living.

*Wash cucumber thoroughly after personal use.

2. The Sqweel

At best, this is a mutant Hot Wheels wannabe. At worst, it's a slew of amputated tongues rotating around an unseen axis.

That said, I'm pretty sure that if you give that thing enough gas and set it on the ground, It'll either make it halfway to Nebraska or mysteriously transform into a bevy of mothers-in-law. Either way, my knees are crossed tight.

3. Mr. Right.

Go on and click that link to view the single most depressing object ever realized by humankind. That thing will never ever achieve erection. You want to destroy a woman's self-esteem? Give her a limp dildo. Broad'll take one look at that thing; think even my dildo can't get it up for me and well up with tears for the next three days.

Christ awmighty.

Yes, smartass, I realize that this is an ill begotten fashion accessory designed for a) someone of the feminine persuasion who wants to laugh in the face of penis envy, b) a gent who's own manhood is so negligible, he sports a visual prosthetic to inspire confidence, or c) other.

Yeah, yeah. Mr. Right is a hapless schmuck who will never find his groove, or Viagra Falls for that matter.

The glory he does enjoy--those delighted gasps courtesy of stolen glances as he struts through the club on a glittering Friday night--are born of deception and woefully short lived. Can you imagine what happens when the zipper is finally down and the jib is finally up? When the cards are on the table, this is no winning hand, just a full house of flaccid.

4. Velvet Jewel Vibe.

Per the sales literature: "If being used for insertion, please use with a condom."

You're kidding me, right?

5. Liquid Virgin

People, the active ingredient in "Liquid Virgin" is alum, the same stuff that gives pickles their pucker. Call me crazy, but applying a pickling agent to your zorch just sounds like a bad idea.

You want me to get my Vlasic on, baby? Get makin' with your Polish dill.

6. The Form 2

I admit it: the Form 2 is sort of cute with its two curiously vibrating fingertips. Only trouble is, they're attached to that bulb-like base just like the roots of that goddamn Tommy Tooth model in every dentist's office.

Although the Doc no longer takes Tommy apart for me in order to display the hidden workings of decay, the mere site of the tooth-like Form 2 catapults me back to the most nightmarish moments of my youth, spent squirming beneath a screaming drill in the dentist chair, beads of sweat popping from my forehead.

In this realm, the phrase "open real wide" is anything but sexy.

That said, how darling is this vid? I love the part where the Form 2 tooth gets a nice little bath!

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Everybody come together try to love one another right now

Beautiful agony - Watch more Funny Videos

Ask Erin

Dear Erin,

All I want from my girlfriend is to look at her after we DO IT. I mean REALLY look at her. But every time I try to sneak a peek, she rolls over and crosses her legs. Am I being weird?

--Boy who Wonders

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Dear Boy Wonder,

No you are not being weird. Men can't get enough of that thing. I don't know why, but there it is. So you're 100 percent normal, but to get to the (ahem) bottom of your situation, we need to take a a couple of steps back.

So, Boy Wonder, are you or are you not delivering a splendorous orgasm unto Batgirl during the proceedings?

Methinks not.

Because if you were, Batgirl would be so full of glorious human sexual fulfillment, the aftermath would have her breathless on her back, not caring one toot if you were examining the secrets of the ol' batcave with a Klieg light. She'd probably even be giggling with that joyous intoxicated satisfaction only a true-life climax can produce. Hell, given enough big O's, she might even leave her cape and mask on, or show you a few inverted yoga poses (keep plenty of towels on hand in the case of that eventuality).

Instructing you on the ins and outs of how to properly maneuver your Batmobile in order to deliver the big O is a bigger tutorial than I can fit into this here blog post, but you might start by studying up in your spare time. Look at some diagrams and get making with the internet. Maybe upgrade to a nice bottle of vino instead of a six of Natty Light on your next date. If she loosens up enough, you might even talk Batgirl into giving you a live tour of her batcave during the opening acts of the evening, if you know what I mean.

Good luck.

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Have a question about sex, housewifery, politics, culture or goat husbandry? Why not ask Erin?

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Being married, vol. 3

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Gee spot

At the moment of orgasm I knew that I was in a great, golden light and I experienced myself as transparent, luminous energy. I saw seven star-like, golden, swirling points that lined up in my body.

--a quote from "Carrie" in Linda Savage's "Spiritual Sex" piece for HuffPo.

Warhol's Blow Job

Not the original, which was longer and ran at a different frame rate, but evocative and arousing nonetheless. I don't know if a soundtrack accompanied Warhol's original footage, but I preferred to mute the music on this vid anyway.

I wonder if "Blow Job" was part of the impetus for Beautiful Agony.

Busted: pepperoni bread

Goddamnit anyway. Nothing is simple.

I got a few requests for the pepperoni roll recipe from this entry and I promised to post it, so here goes.

Truth is people, the pepperoni rolls don't come from a recipe so much as a procedure and in that telling, I'm letting a big secret out of the bag.

I make all my homemade bread doughs, including the one for my beloved pepperoni rolls, in a Panasonic SD-YD250 Automatic Bread Maker.

There, I said it. I'm busted. So kill me already.

I recently purchased this Panasonic in order to replace the SD-BT55P model that was gifted to us by sister of Goat and her husband for our wedding in 1992. The original Panasonic was a godlike machine that operated perfectly for 16 years and was only replaced when the paddle mechanism began to leak (from extraordinary wear) and replacing it cost half as much as a new machine. I can only hope the new model does as well as the old.

This machine kicks ass.

I make my pizza dough in it (and yes, I am the sort of asshole who has a big stone on the bottom of the oven to bake the pizza on), I make bread dough in it (I use that for everything, regular bread or I roll in some cheddar or parm and herbs or whatever strikes my fancy), and I sometimes use the machine to bake the bread as well (when I'm in a hurry and don't have time to shape and bake it myself).

For pepperoni rolls, I put this in the machine:

3 cups bread flour (about 14 3/4 ounces)
3 tablespoons powdered milk
2 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons salt
2 tablespoons butter
1 cup water
1 1/2 teaspoons yeast.

then I press "dough" mode and a perfect dough comes out 45 minutes later. How fucking beautiful is that?

I cut the dough into four pieces, roll each into an 8-inch circle (which are never perfect and always come out as a weird amoeba shape), sprinkle a handful of shredded mozzerella on there, then arrange about 10 slices of sandwich-sized pepperoni in an even layer on top. I roll that up, pinch the seam and let it rise, covered (with a layer of Saran and a kitchen towel on top), for about an hour.

HINT: put those mothers right on the baking pan after you roll them and let them rise on there. And do me a goddamn favor? Line the goddamn pan with parchment paper. Because if you have a blow-out (and you will have a blow-out), you'll be glad you did, trust me. Jesus christ awmighty.

After they've risen, put three slashes in each and bake them at 385 F for about 25 minutes or until they're golden brown. I usually rotate the pan about halfway through for an even bake.

Everyone loves these pepperoni rolls. You can use ham and cheddar (Lil' OB's fave) instead of pepperoni and mozzarella (Goat's fave). Or I sometimes make an Erin roll with olives and banana pepper and whatever leftover lunchmeat and cheese I've got lying around (me likey hard salami and swiss). I wrap these individually and freeze them for lunches. They're great for picnics. One roll is a really big portion. I cut Lil' OB's rolls in half and wrap them that way before I freeze them.

The secret is in the dough, which is chewy and luscious. That dough makes a hell of a good dinner roll as well. Just cut it into 12 pieces and bake 'em. Those are my mom's fave.

So I'd like to take the credit, but the Panasonic does most of the work and if you have $140, go over here and get yourself one. I use mine all the time. If you only have $33, maybe get you one of these. You won't have any bread, but add a couple of AAA batteries and maybe you'll get some facial grimaces and toe curling to rise.

Beautifully honest

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Well hello dolly

Not safe for work. Perhaps not safe for any sort of human consumption, but nonetheless, this is one of the funniest vids I've ever seen.

Reconstructing Dan Savage, vol. two

Oh boy.

Sex columnist Dan Savage's Episode 57 podcast, which originally posted November 20, 2007, features a guest expert. Savage and "Science" open the show with a discussion on how to determine whether or not a woman is faking an orgasm. The description tag for the podcast calls it "a useful tutorial on how to scientifically determine whether a woman's orgasm is fake or genuine."


The two Boy Wonders go on to tell their listening audience to check for pupil dilation and sweaty palms and feet at the moment of climax, all of which indicate an innate "fight or flight" response commonly associated with orgasm.

This is your advice, boys? Palms and pupils? You're kidding me, right?

When you're talking the fairer-sex climax, you are obligated to include a mention of orgasmic contractions. Perhaps Savage was being polite and didn't want to trump his guest. Maybe he was having a subtle laugh at Science's expense. But orientation notwithstanding, Savage has mentioned orgasmic contractions before, so it's not as though he doesn't know about them. Whatever the case, neither man brought up the single most definitive characteristic of a real orgasm. And how you can have such a discussion without mentioning the fact that the vagina puts on a regular floor show during the genuine article escapes me.


What really bothers me is that there is a contingent of men that took this sage advice at face value. They're out there prying their lover's eyes open at a crucial moment or blotting their palms with a Kleenex to check for perspiration. Savage and Co., you did a major disservice to all of them as well as their partners. Shame on you! Now let me set things straight.

Gentlemen, the puss is not static during climax. It does fun tricks.

That said, I am not a doctor or statistician, just one woman with copious experience. I realize the orgasmic reaction is as unique as the woman enjoying it. Some vaginae mark climax with a subtle vibration while others exhibit a wildly undulating affair. Mine sings the Star Spangled Banner.

And if you don't believe me and don't have anyone around to demonstrate, there are plenty of NSFW examples available courtesy of the honeys over at Youporn.

This is not a secret. Plenty of people have written about it. But nonetheless, it continues to mystify. So here are a few tips.

I understand that during regular boy/girl coitus, the usual suspect may or may not feel the woman's climax, particularly if it's subtle. The man may wonder how sincere that scream really was. That said, gents, your tongue or fingers will know for sure. Seeing is believing as well.

You know what you have to do.

And for pity's sake, don't be afraid to ask for help or direction. A straight-forward demonstration may be in order as well. Once you are familiar with her unique climactic reactions, you'll never wonder again. And by then, you'll be delivering the goods so regularly, it won't be an issue.

And yeah, if it's a one-night stand and you don't know the woman at all, don't expect to know her orgasm. That advice goes for the ladies out there as well. I hate to be a fuddy-duddy, but long-term relationships produce the best sex for a reason.

To summarize: If she's grunting and moaning and pulling a regular When Harry Met Sally, but her vagina isn't doing anything, you've probably got a goose egg. On the other hand, if all she offers up a tiny "ooh" along with a bead or two of sweat while her puss performs acrobatics, you done good, kid.

And if she's splayed out on the bed with limbs like noodles and a smoky look in her eyes afterwards, that speaks volumes as well. You could call it the wake of pupil dilation, but I like my description better.

Good luck out there.



Confidential to the ladies: Don't fake; teach. Just trust me on this.