So it was with great anticipation that I clicked on THE LIST.  The rabbit, check, warming bullet, check, but then my eyes moved down to number 5.  The rolling pin?  WTF?  I googled hard but could not find it. That’s when my imagination took over. First of all is the size altered so that an Easy Bake chef could you use it?  Does it require two hands to roll out the relief?  And if you‘re going to name a vibe after a kitchen tool, surely there are other names that come to mind.  Melon baller, sizzling spatula, OXO good grips g-spotter all have more appeal that than a gadget designed to pummel dough into submission.  But wait, it gets worse.  Number 6 is the Tongs vibrator.  Why not just invent a Tweezerman twister that can give you the big O and Brazilian at the same time?  I understand that British slang differs from the US variety, but do tongs really conjure up randy shandy, rumpy pumpy sex?  We might as well rename the rabbit the toad in the hole and label remote vibrators as the ultimate call-box.  But I saved the all-time worst name for last: Leftovers.  Why beat around the bush (as it were)? Just call it sloppy seconds and be done with it.

I’m not an expert on British slang but I do know my arse from my shag carpet, and frankly these names seem like marketing nightmares. How could you sell some of these vibrators?  “Leftover orgasms are special because they’re even better the next day.”  Perhaps a diddle riddle could work?  “What bashes your dish and the bish?”  It’s a cheeky challenge—no doubt about it.  For me, I’ll stick with my favorites and leave the tongs across the pond.

LITTLE GOLD ETERNITY Silent, Waterproof, Everlasting Vibrator

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There are great models to choose from, so why are we inundated with multi-function gadgets?  I don’t want a pen with a vibrating eraser. Nor am I interested in an all-in-one vibrator, keychain and flashlight.  (Now where did I leave those Keys???).

The most recent offenders are the Tingle Tip and Brush Bunny.  I stumbled upon these products when I was doing research for my vibrator book, and my mood quickly shifted from carnal to cranky.  Why?

Because these products TURN YOUR ELECTRIC TOOTHBRUSH INTO A VIBRATOR.

Yes, you read that correctly.  The Brush Bunny fits over the top of the brush, whereas the Tingle Tip “fits directly on to your electric toothbrush with patent-pending technology to deliver orgasmic vibrations.”  Both products suggest liberally applying lube before use and washing thoroughly in warm water afterwards.

Now I’m fastidious about proper dental care. I wonder, therefore, how I could ever take the same device that I use twice a day for oral hygiene and apply it the to the contours of my vulva. For me, even though they promise to keep things “fresh down below,”  the eeeww factor guarantees a bad case of receding cums. I can’t even wrap my woolly brain around the double entendre  “we have to fill that cavity” and the emotions that phrase would now elicit.

I suppose the good news is that you’d only need one set of directions for both the Tingle Tip or Brush Bunny and the Electric tooth brush.

*   Proper oral irrigation is essential.

*   Use at a least twice a day.

*   Make sure your brush is always properly charged

*   Place the head at a 35-degree angle

*   Move the brush up and down gently in short strokes.

*   Use the “”toe” to clean the inside surfaces using a gentle up-and-down strokes.

*   Apply to outer and inner surfaces to remove unsavory bacteria.  Check and Mate.

Here’s my advice—forget the the Tingle Tip and the damn bunny and buy yourself an Eroscillator, a true grown-up vibe.  It’s the one vibe I’d take if my house caught fire and after every use I bow down to Our Lady of the Screaming Orgasm.

As an occasional reviewer of sex-related products, I sometimes find “surprise” packages at my front door. Two weeks ago I received a nondescript cardboard box, but the content was anything but ordinary. What did I discover when I rummaged through the tissue paper? The cone vibrator.

Now the cone has been around for a while but this was my first chance to test-drive it. Just in case the picture doesn’t do it justice, let me provide a more complete description. First of all it’s big, measuring 7 “ across the base and 5 inches tall. (Men, you all know what six inches looks like, so just use your imagination.) It features a souped-up 3,000-rpm motor so you can pretend you are diverting traffic AND operating a jackhammer simultaneously. And it is PINK. I’m talking make-your-teeth ache-Pepto-Bismol pink with a chaser of cotton candy,

When I first saw this his and/or her vibe, I was not bewitched, just bothered and bewildered. Did I really want to turn my tender tarmac into a construction zone? No. But my honest opinion was required, so I reluctantly put my snarky thoughts aside and tried it on for sighs. Consulting the instruction manual, I discovered helpful illustrations of recommended positions—all hands-free! Unlike every other vibe on the market, (i)conic coitus involves resting or sitting on the vibe. As I began perusing the possibilities, I noticed one glaring oddity– every illustration prominently featured reading material.

Were the figures reading the instructions, perusing racy porn, or checking on the correct way to assume the down dog position? Apparently, having both hands free allows you to multi-task in ways I’d never thought possible.

The On the Way Out variation allows you to achieve the big “O” while “drying your hair or applying make-up. Pop it on a chair, lower yourself down and enjoy the sensation, as you get ready for your day. Perfect.” Come again? Who the Hell wants to focus on applying foundation when you’re trying to raise the rafters with a roaring orgasm?

But maybe I just lack an adventurous spirit. If you read the customer reviews on the cone’s website, the conversations women have with this inanimate object can get pretty animated. Hearts pound, pulses race and the explosions sound worthy of a supernova!

So I decided to get back up on the um… horse. Discovering that the lunge is one of most popular positions, I decided it would be the logical next step. How very wrong I was. Because you hold your intimate hovercraft over the cone, the hamstring strength required to maintain this position is only possible for the genetically enhanced. As my thighs do not bear any resemblance to Popeye’s forearms, they began to shake after a minute. By minute 2, the inevitable happened: The cone turned on me. I fell off and it ricocheted off the bed frame.

After all of this “C”-list battery buzzing, my poor Little Bo Peep felt like a swollen vending machine. Instead of choosing the sensible path to pleasure (immersing myself in a sitz bath for hours), I decided to take another whack at the sit spins. This time, however, I tried The Wall.

Recommended for more adventurous customers, The Wall enabled me to give my quads a rest and paint my toenails at the same time (I make up for in flexibility what I lack in lower body strength. I was voted “Most like Linguine” in High School.) While this position gave me much needed support, it rendered a small but pivotal part –the control switch, inaccessible. The cone comes with 16 built-in programs ranging from subtle vibrations to blast off. Fumbling for the all-important orgasm button between my legs proved “pointless.” The dimpled button that guaranteed a predictable Doppler effect from this up vibe was always just beyond my reach, and I couldn’t see under the hood. Maybe I shouldn’t have let my subscription to Contortionist Illustrated lapse.

Anyway, I was bumping and grinding away when the soles of my shoes began sliding on the hardwood floors, my orgasm hanging precariously in the balance. At that point, thoroughly bored with the cone (and I mean that in both senses of the phrase) my eyes fell on one of the random reviews that now littered my bedroom floor. Great Sex Toys for Hiding Out in the Open. I slowly lowered myself to the floor and began to read. The Cone, it seems, is being touted as a Vibe “you can leave out for guests to appreciate your art collection!” Then I spotted another: “The funky, contemporary style means you don’t need to hide it away in the bedroom drawer.”

First of all, you’d need a steamer trunk not a drawer, and second, “Who the Hell wants a pink cone in their living room.” Maybe if you’re living in Barbie’s dream house or like to display oddities among your odds and ends, this makes sense. But for people who don’t consider random neon-bright shapes postpostmodern sculpture, it’s unfathomable. Sure this piece of “tramp art” is less benign than a diving dolphin, but why would anyone want to test the limits of their personal sphere of privacy with a vibrator? Keep them in your secret stash where they belong and put this pleasure dome away.

Bottom Line: for the maladroit I give it only 1 star, and while I’m at it, a double thumbs down, which I can do because both hands are free.

Just in case you haven’t heard, Green is the new black of sex toys. 

Yes, it is now possible to achieve sexual satisfaction and take socially responsible actions to protect the planet. You can engage in eco-friendly playtime with seaweed-based dildos, phthalate-free vibes, vegan condoms, and hand-carved wooden sex toys (with organic varnish, naturally). When you’re ready to make the switch, there are even vibrating recycling centers that will dispose of your worn-out rabbits and plastic penis pollutants safely. My imagination runs wild at the thought of this island of unfit toys.

This should make me ecstatic, yet I greet this news with pure rebellion. 

I’ve changed my light bulbs, my toilet and my detergent – happily. But I’m drawing the line at replacing some of my vibrators.

I can imagine the legions of vegans who will read this as a battle cry. They’ll scoop up their faux fur handcuffs and come after me brandishing 100% hemp floggers and whips made from recycled rubber inner tubes. 

Does this make me shake in my 5”-stilletto thigh-high pleather boots? No. (But it does provide fodder for a potential future fantasy. Hmmm…)

I completely understand choosing organic products when it comes to lubes and massage oils. Anything that reduces the possibility of yeast infections has got to be good. And I get that, for some women, a penis is the only animal product that has an admission ticket to their vagina.

But do I really want to replace my secret stash of all-stars with vibrators that carry the Green Seal of Approval? Um … NO!

Finding the right vibrators doesn’t happen overnight. Over the years, I have spent more time and money than I can count, searching for models that guarantee my Goldilocks moment: “Ooh, this feels just right.” Vibrators aren’t Swiss-Army knives that come equipped with pullout devices for every occasion. Situations change, moods fluctuate, privacy issues come up, and let’s face facts: A woman’s erogenous zone plays favorites, bores easily, and comes equipped with a mind of its own. I sometimes picture my sweet spot retreating into her Juicy Couture pink hoodie and whining, “Oh, No. The Super 9000 again! Been there.  Done That.”

After much trial and error, I now have a trusted array of toys. My line-up includes a powerful travel slim-line, Jimmyjane’s Form 6 for my adult swims, my beloved Wahl 7-in-1 personal massager, and the Eroscillator, the one vibe I’d rescue if my house goes up in flames. I thought my search was over, but now I discover that I need to worry if all of my vibes are certified as Energy Star appliances. 

I have complete confidence in my power tools, and to start the process all over again is more than a little dispiriting. After all,I already own several pleasure wands that are certifiably green.  My pocket vibes contain only rechargeable batteries, and I am now the proud owner of the Mia, an ingenious Lelo vibe that I can charge in my computer’s USB port. Moreover, my gorgeous Jimmyjane is safe for the two most important heavenly planets–the earth and my body. 

But enough is enough. Sure, a wind-powered vibe is pollution-free, but will its transmission grid carry the same mega-watt power that I require? Brain research is beginning to show that anticipation of food can affect how it tastes, and the same is true for my sex life. I have a variety of erotic appetites, and I love knowing that I have just the right device to quench my varied thirsts.

 There’s no way around it: imposing a social consciousness on my libido is an unwelcome burden. I’ve been through the wide-eyed phase of a neophyte’s curiosity. Now I find solace in knowing exactly what I want and how to get.  I’m also no longer enthralled with a random theory of events, and I take issue with Wundt’s findings that an intermediate level of arousal is the most pleasurable. Trust me Dr. Wundt, my g-spot bears no resemblance to your inverted U-shaped curve—it demands the kind of power that only my plug-in models can provide. As a result, I look for the same quality in my vibe energy source as I do in my martinis—a little dirty. Turning off the lights in my home to save the planet is doable; giving up my Acuvibe is not.

My refusal to totally embrace products approved by Mother Earth also says as much about my sexual personae as it does about the state of my bank account.  I enjoy the thrill of being naughty and savor the power that bad girls attract.  How can I concentrate of making mischief if I’m too busy checking on the status of my solar-powered vibe? So what if my pitcher of sun tea and my vibe use the same clean energy source? When it comes to sex, I’m seeking vixen not virtue.

Then there is the question of lingerie. Despite the promise of eco-kinky chic, I have yet to find sexy garb that lives up to its name. If you don’t believe me, spend some time browsing through sustainable clothing catalogues. Promoting the advantages of planet-friendly fibers, they feature “spicy gear” such as 100%  hemp halters. These styles may be a turn-on for Woody Harrelson, but not for me, unless of course I’m in a cult-girl goes crazy kind of mood.  It can happen, but it pretty much peaked for me when People magazine featured the children of Waco on its cover.

If all this makes me an environmental outlaw, so be it.  I’ll bend over and take whatever punishment your sustainable, fair-trade wooden paddle has to offer. When it comes to my sex life, I’m not always after the green.  I want hot, red-hot. ]]> http://intelligentwomansguide.com/2009/05/whats-the-carbon-footprint-of-my-vibrator/feed/ 2