Warning: This Friday Mail Bag Contains An Awkward Moment

Kim of Long Beach, winner of the Club Vibe from our favorite female-friendly sex toy company, Good Vibrations, was delighted to receive her new toy. "I got it!  I tried it!  I love it!!" she wrote.  (Quick back story for those who just got here:  The Club Vibe vibrates in response to sound and can be hooked up to a music player to pulse along with the beat or set to respond to ambient noise, such as the sound of "a lover's voice," night club music, or--I don't know--"The Price is Right."  So discreet is this darn thing that women are reportedly wearing it as they go on their daily errands. I might have suggested that if you saw Kim about town, you should assume that she too was wearing it and you should most definitely direct some comments in the direction of Kim's crotchal region (in a deep booming voice, natch) to get the thing going. I might have further suggested that you could go all out and do a whole Peter Frampton voice-box guitar solo thing ala Frampton Comes Alive!)

ANYHOW, dear Kim mentioned the directing-comments-below-the-belt notion in her status update on Facebook. That weekend she went to the Tijuana orphanage where she volunteers and, well, I'll let her explain: "People I really don't know very well started talking to my crotch." I sooooo hope she writes back to tell us all what, exactly, these semi-known people from a foreign land said to her, er, you know. (For more on the "you know," please see The Land Down Under post).  If you're looking to get a Club Vibe of your very own, click here.

The Land Down Under

Kitty, honey pot, coochie, box, beaver, quim, snatch, down there, yoni, muff, lotus, cunny, hoo ha.  

Ugh. No, no and no. How can there be so many names for a woman's nether regions and not one of them I want to say? Pussy? Too porny. Vajayjay? Too trendy. And the proper term, vagina? It sounds like something that involves medical diagrams and perhaps special ointments.

Besides, as faithful readers may remember, I have a quirk of prudery that makes me feel like a giggly, immature kid in sex ed class whenever I am forced to say the word vagina.  (Yes, forced.  When you have children, saying vagina is unavoidable.)

Except for the aforementioned educational contexts with my daughters, I rarely refer to these female parts by any sort of name.  It's actually quite amazing (and kind of pitiful) how one can go decades without ever having to use particular words.  I mean, I birthed babies, had sex, went to the gyno -- never once uttering the phrase "my vagina."

But I am a big girl now and need to get over this! Tell me, dear readers, what's a good name for a feminist, (sort of) mature chick to call her, uh, you know? What do you call it? (And do NOT tell me anything involving the word "beef" because that whole line of vaginal slang will simply not do.)

Vajazzling, And Other Upsetting Topics

Have you heard about this whole vajazzling thing? Vajazzling, so says the Urban Dictionary, is "the act of applying glitter or jewels to a woman's nether regions for aesthetic purposes." Also "the transfixion felt by the pointless wonder of vaginal glitter."

Vajazzling first came into public consciousness when Jennifer Love Hewitt revealed in her memoir that to get over a break-up, she had Swarovski crystals applied to festoon her "precious lady." She does not reveal whether or not the break-up was precipitated by her penchant for using the term "precious lady." (My guess:  yes.) 

But vajazzling is but one part of what women are doing to fancy up their precious ladies, according to an article in The Globe and Mail thoughtfully sent in by a reader, "Vaginas Enjoy Their 15 Minutes of Commercial Fame".  Says the article--and why would they lie about this?--some among us are dyeing their

Do Your Part For Smutty Blogs

You can vote for In Bed With Married Women as Best Humor Blog in the 2010 Blogger's Choice Awards.   Click here to vote.*

*The small print:  Voting is sort of a pain.  You have to enter your e-mail address, they send you an email back and then, and only then, will they let you vote.  In Bed is on about the third page under Humor Blogs.

In Bed Goes All Green (Hey, Turn Off That Light When You're Done With The Blog)

We're guessing your sex life is already pretty green. Hopefully you're not doing it while simultaneously eating excessively-packaged Lunchables, and we certainly hope you've traded up from your old-fashioned nuclear-powered vibrator.  But beyond the obvious ways of greening your sex life (i.e. take a shower together to save water, don't have 8 billion kids the Earth can't sustain, etc...), there are a few ways to push it further--way further:

There are companies that recycle sex toys, including the Sex Toy Recycling Program and Sex Toy Recycling.  The latter's site features this oddly heart-warming diagram of old, sad broken sex toys being transformed into a shiny new purple dildo. (Hooray!  The Island of Misfit Sex Toys is saved!)

I know, I know, sex toy recycling, gross.  But it's not like they're just hosing 'em off and putting them back on the shelves. They take the items to the lab where a (hopefully very highly paid) team of workers sorts through all the materials 

and sends them to the appropriate bins for grinding up to be made into shiny new sex toys and other things as well. Like, perhaps, that coffee cup you're drinking out of right now!  

The (unused) sex toy industry is also all over this green thing and has a host of greener products including vibrators with rechargeable batteries, organic lube, flavored vegan condoms, even bondage

Brave Reader Will Watch Porn On Your Behalf, aka Someone's In The Kitchen With Dinah

"I hate porn in general because of the lack of plot, stupid fake tits and scary fingernails that you shouldn't be wielding around soft body parts," writes Miss Kitler of West Virginia. "I also hate it because no one looks like they're REALLY having a good time and you cannot convince me that gagging is 'pleasurable.'"

Well, Miss Kitler, I think many of could agree with that assessment (and if you don't, send us an irate e-mail immediately). Porn films commonly feature actors joylessly pounding away, as though the act is giving them about 75% less stimulation than it should and they have to hammer at it all the more strenuously to make up for it.  And don't even get us started on the girls and their passionless moaning. "Oh yeah, that feels so good," they groan dully, in a depressingly poor approximation of real sexual desire.

Does good porn exist? Let's find out. Brave Miss Kitler is going to watch some porn for us, specifically Fluid: Women Redefining Sexuality from our favorite purveyors of smut, Good Vibrations, and report back on her findings. Why do we have high hopes for this particular film?

Dreams DO Come True--A Cautionary Tale

So, want to read my tale of inadvertent public nudity? (Fear not, to provide your eyes from burning with the horror of it all, I have not included any photos of said event.) I'll tell you the story right now, if you have the time.  Grab a cup of tea and come sit by the warm glow of the computer.

What Is The Best Make-Out Music? Let's Ask Damone. He's The Coolest Guy In School.

...And Bad Make-Out Music

Ever hear the song Don't Trust Me by 3Oh!3? It goes, "Shush, girl, shush your lips/Do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips." Now, I'm sure Helen Keller was quite a foxy lady and all, but dude, mentioning Helen Keller in a song automatically makes it Bad Make-Out Music.

What makes for Bad Make-Out Music? It depends.  Some songs are just plain upsetting. This includes songs like the music from Jeopardy! the Jonas Brothers catalog, anything performed by Alvin and the Chipmunks and The Hokey Pokey. Other cases are more complicated. Dueling Banjos is Bad Make-Out Music because it was in that one scene in "Deliverance."

Any song that involves the term "making love" (or, for that matter, "makin' love") is immediately on the list.  Meaning, there shall be no playing of Roberta Flack's Feel Like Makin' Love nor any Bad Company's Feel Like Makin' Love. Songs that reference icky-sounding people having sex makes for Bad Make-Out Music.  This includes 70's hits like the Starland Vocal Band's Afternoon Delight and Captain and Tennille's Do That To Me One More Time.

Most older TV theme songs are off-limits as well. The theme from "Friends"?  Not good. The theme from "Sanford and Son"?  Uh-uh. The song from "The Facts of Life"?  No way, despite the not-irrelevant presence of George Clooney in later seasons.    

Oh, there are plenty of elements that automatically make for Bad Make-Out Music.  This includes any talk of the U.S of A., barking dogs as lead singers, tubas and/or bagpipes, and the entire genre of bluegrass.  And while we're at it, we'd add all white supremacist music, songs titled "Lady" and music in which--at any point--the singer switches from singing to spoken word.

This knowledge did not come easily. I once had a U2/Smiths-loving beau and when he came over to my dorm room for some making out (aka "makin' out"), I put on a DeBarge cassette tape. Cue sound of: wah, wah-wah, wah.  It was, to use the parlance of the time, a "totally gay" choice.  The shame of it still burns.

And you?  What's on your Bad Make-Out Music list? Did anyone ever put on Bad Make-Out music to make out with you? Or did you ever put on Bad Make-Out Music? Be honest, now, I told you about DeBarge. It's your turn. Comment below or drop us an e-mail.

We Have Our Winner!

"YIPPIE!!!!!" wrote Kim from Long Beach, CA, using 5 exclamation points to convey her joy upon learning she was the lucky winner of the Club Vibe from Good Vibrations. You may recall that the Club Vibe responds to sound and can be hooked up to a music player to pulse along with the beat. It can also be set up to vibrate in response to ambient noises, such as the sound of "a lover's voice," night club music, Bill Moyers on PBS...whatever does it for you.

You may also recall, as I most certainly do, that users were reporting that the Club Vibe is so discreet that they were wearing it everywhere, even to most assuredly unsexy destinations like the grocery store.

What I glean from all this is that we should all assume Kim from Long Beach could be wearing her new Club Vibe AT ANY TIME and we should all behave accordingly.  If you happen to see her about town, you might direct some lively comments to her crotchal region to get the device going.

Or if you really want to show her the love, feel free to perform a vocal guitar solo, talk box-style, ala Peter Frampton, circa Frampton Comes Alive! (one exclamation point) toward her nether regions. It's just plain good manners.

Friday Mail Bag

The mail's here! Let's see what our increasingly disgruntled postal worker has brought today.

(shown in photo: mail carrier nervously speeding away from our house)


One reader, reflecting upon the giant papier-mache-looking V in a previous post wrote, "There's something about the fact that it seems to be built onto a bicycle, and there's this bored, bizarrely-dressed woman standing there, like she's resting from a cross-Europe vagina awareness tour. Also, I wonder if maybe there are prizes inside." Egad!  Prizes? Like a pinata? Oh, but what would these "prizes" be?  I shudder to think.

Another reader reported that looking at In Bed With Married Women inspired a "night of love" with her husband (and, in all fairness, no, she did not use a phrase so icky as that). I am a little perplexed at what might have been the source of arousal. Was it the giant papier-mache-looking V, the treatise on the female condom, or, god forbid, the post on the anal ring toss game?  Perhaps she will be good enough to report back. This blog is about sex, but I don't know that it's horribly sexy. What do you think? Has In Bed affected your sex life, for good or for evil? E-mail us or pop a comment down there at the bottom of the post. (Attention Fellow Oldsters:  to comment, push the button there that says "comment" and a form should pop up for you.)

New Contest! Do your other blogs treat you this nice? I think not.

In this one, reader is pitted against reader in a gory mellee of previously dignified ladies fighting it out for a fabulous prize and the glory of winning an unmentionable prize.  Your task:  spread the word about In Bed With Married Women.   Your winnings, should you choose to accept this challenge: Your very own Club Vibe from Good Vibrations, the cool San Francisco, girl-friendly purveyors of sex toys.  

The Club Vibe (a $69 value, mind you--no cheap sex toys, for you, dear reader) is some sort of magical device that responds to sounds.  You can plug it into your MP3 player or iPhone and it pulses to the beat of the music. (I am actually kind of afraid of plugging it into my iPhone.  I already like my iPhone excessively and if it were satisfying me sexually as well, I might just run off with it to an Italian villa.) The Club Vibe also can be set to respond to ambient noise so, as the breathless ad copy suggests, you could "Let the sound of your lover's voice wash over you in waves of ecstasy." Hopefully your lover would get into the proper spirit of things and whisper sweet words of hotness, unlike me who would be compelled to pretend it was a microphone and say something horribly inappropriate such as "Clean up on Aisle 3!"  


Anyway, people seem to like this thing--a lot.  One highly pleased user wrote, "At the gym, the stationary bicycle became an exercise in desire. And nobody even wondered why I was sweating and gasping for air! Also, with the Club Vibe firmly clipped to my hip, the supermarket never seemed so sexy."  I don't know if I am pleased or disturbed to imagine that while I am idly scanning the cover of US Weekly, the other women in the supermarket line are secretly having intimate moments.  ("Honey, we need more bread..."  "I'll go!  I'll go!")


It could be you at the grocery store rocking out with your Club Vibe.  To win, you must gather the most new fans for Facebook's In Bed With Married Women page.  You have from now--right this second--until noon on Friday, April 16 (Pacific time).  If you are vehementally anti-Facebook, and that is certainly understandable, you can also send people directly to this blog, instructing them to let me know that you sent them (have them provide your e-mail address as well).


Btw, if you want to just skip all that work and just order the damn thing for yourself, click right here.

What's Your "Not Tonight" Signal?

Trailers for two recent movies both feature the silent "no sex tonight" signals that wives display for their husbands.

In "Date Night," it's the Wearing of the Mouth Guard:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uSV4Y2l7JQg

In "Extract," it's the Donning of the Sweatpants:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fzJI08YUNik

I love this idea of the non-verbal no-sex signals from an anthropological aspect. For example, an obscure spider in the rain forest might signal their lack of interest by biting the head off their would-be suitor.  But humans generally have to be a bit more subtle.  So I ask you, human reader: what's your no sex signal?

Since I'm asking you such a personal question, I'll go first. I have two: One is pointedly saying, "Wow! I am soooo tired tonight.  I just can't WAIT to be asleep!"  The other is feigned obtuseness--that is, pretending not to recognize any signals from a certain husband.  These signals are not acknowledged aloud.

That is, they weren't until I just now revealed my secret female tricks to the world--crap!  New secret signals needed--STAT! Dear reader, needing your imput immediately...

Why, Isn't That Just....Something!

"Stumbled across this image," wrote one gentle reader. "Might be fun for your blog."  Said image was this:

My first thought was "Yuck!" and I was just going to delete it, but then as I was trying to fall asleep tonight, I was besieged by unanswered questions.  First being, how did this dear reader "stumble across" this image?  Was he looking up "giant papier mache-looking vaginas" and this was but one of the search results?  Or had he been searching for "giant baginas" and a sudden typo sent him in this shocking direction?

What was the creative process that yielded the gigantic V?  Did the artist use a model for her piece, or did she just sort of go on memory?  If there was a model, was she pleased with the jumbo sized 3-D rendition of her wang?  Was she bragging to passersby that the big V was based on her own much smaller (one would certainly hope) V?

And how did the artist get this piece to this street anyway?  Did she rent a U-Haul or just tie it to the roof of her car, like a hunter with a dead deer?  There seems to be a wheel attached to the whole contraption, which we won't even address because, at this point, that's the least of our worries.

And finally, and I know I shouldn't bring this up at all, but look at the artist's face--she looks quite displeased, like something unpleasant is near.  Now, now, does a certain giant papier-mache-looking V need a little freshening up?

True Wife's Tale #2: "Mara," Former Wild Child Goes All Suburbia

Our second true wife's tale comes from the gorgeous Mara, who says, "I'm just a regular mom, incest survivor, recovering topless dancer." Now that she's fully ensconced in suburbia, the only tell to her racy past is her penchant for wearing heels with shorts.

Her only request on this interview:  "Just keep it real."  Well, Ms. Mara, consider it done.  Except that Mara isn't even her name.  And her husband now magically has a completely different job.  And a fake name.  (Lies!  I'm full of lies!)  I did let Mara pick her husband's new name. "How about Ken?" she said. "It sounds like a porn name." And that's a good a reason as any, I guess. Everything else in the story is true, btw, so be don't worrying your pretty little head about it.  To read Mara's story, click here.

For those who just joined us, True Wife's Tales are a place for women to tell the truth about what's really going on in their sex lives.  The idea being:  knowledge = power.  If you would like to tell your own story, click here, little missy.

Mail Bag

Let's see what our friendly (and now-blushing) postal worker has brought today.

One reader was inspired by the post on the anal ring toss toy. "Hilarious," she wrote, piquing our interest immediately. "I actually googled 'Who invented the anal ring toss.' I needed to know the story of the guy--because it's a guy, I'm sure--who invented it. Couldn't find anything. Darn. But what I did find while searching was almost as funny to me. I need to explore these web sites more--check this out:  The Pony Head Bridle Set. Here I feel so knowledgeable, but I didn't know this existed."

[editor's note:  I don't want to ruin the mood, but that "plume" looks suspiciously like a feather duster.  And did anyone else notice how much it is?  $275-335!  Although, as the ad copy boldly claims (and who's going to argue, really?): "You could search the finest stables in the world for the rest of your life and never find a bridle set as intricate and beautiful as this one."  If you're one of those matchy-matchy types, you can also buy the Stainless Steel Horse Hair Anal Plug for only $99 (much better than the old-fashioned asbestos anal plugs).  And if you have an extra $1000 burning a hole in your pocket, the also-advertised Slave Driver Fucking Machine might be worth it just for the name alone.]
The next reader was hesitant to enter our contest (see last post) lest she actually win the I Dare You: 30 Sealed Seductions card game.  "You see, seduction is not a problem in our house.  I try to avoid it, if you