Oh, Happy Day!

My best friend and I always joke about our differing taste in men. She’s always liked the guys who were good at gym class (jocks) where I have always been more attracted to the guys who were smoking and setting stuff on fire when they should have been in gym class. As a kid I would watch re-runs of Happy Days and would reenact elaborate song & dance sequences from Grease and Westside Story. As a teen when most of my friends were hanging up posters of dimpled nice guys like Scott Wolf, I found myself gravitating more towards the likes of James Dean and Johnny Depp. If you want my lady parts to start tingling, give me a social outcast in a leather jacket that’s well-prepared for a knife fight. So, when I found out there was a vibrator named “Fonzie” (named after one of the most famous leather clad bad-asses around) I knew I had to try it. After all, the Fonz was always popular with the ladies.

The Fonzie G-spot and Clitoral vibrator is a dual stimulation toy from Feelztoys. This little purple guy is made of 100% of silicone – a body safe material that has the soft and velvety feel of skin. It is hypoallergenic and Phthalates free. Fonzie’s shaft is curved to help stimulate your G-Spot and also includes a little nubby bit for clitoral stimulation. The toy has seven different vibration settings that you can easily cycle through to experience different sensations. If you want to take this toy into the bath or shower you can because it’s completely waterproof! At approximately 5 1/2 inches long, Fonzie is a smaller sized (read: non-intimidating) toy that actually packs a lot of punch.

Fonzie took a little bit of getting used to however, once I did, I’ve really enjoyed using this toy. The important thing to understand about this toy is that if you are looking for a Rabbit Vibrator (dual stimulation toy that you can use inside and out) this probably isn’t the toy for you. Fonzie is not a classic Rabbit vibrator.However, if you want a good G-Spot vibrator, with a little bit extra, you will probably like what Fonzie has to offer.

I think we’ve all been in the situation where you’re in bed with someone for the first time and they’re totally hot, you’re turned on but yet somehow the sex just. isn’t. working. It’s like a big tangle of awkward limbs and even though you’re shifting your hips, moving your legs, trying to find a position that works, it just feels like maybe your bodies just don’t line up properly. This is kind of what my first experience using Fonzie was like. I think what threw me off was that the nubby bit that’s meant to stimulate your clit totally didn’t line up with mine. When I was finally able to get it to work for me, the clitoral vibrations weren’t really that strong. Unlike typical Rabbit vibrators where the clitoral stimulator usually has a motor of its own, Fonzie’s clitoral arm is attached to the shaft so you are basically just getting residual vibrations from the rest of the toy, not intense stimulation. If you need a lot of clitoral stimulation to get off, this toy might not be for you. You should instead check out something like this or like this.

The upside? As a G-Spot vibrator this toy is quite awesome. The curved shape hits all the right spots and the vibrations were strong enough to get me off several times in a row. Fonzie’s ribbed texture also feels really good. I love that you can cycle through the different vibration settings with ease – a feature I love about my Lelo Mona. Overall I was impressed with the design and quality of this toy, given it’s reasonable price point of $39.99.

Who I would recommend this toy to: This toy would be great for someone who maybe already has another vibrator but is looking to add something specifically for the G-Spot to their toy collection. It’s a great option for anyone who is looking for a vibrating alternative to the Lelo Ella but one that is more user friendly than the Candy Cane vibe. This would also be a fun toy for couples who are looking to mix things up a bit.

A Fonz FYI: This toy takes two AAA batteries (those little tiny ones that fit in your TV remote). Make sure you have some in stock. When Fonzie arrived on my doorstep, I immediately tore off all of his packaging only to realize once I was in the bedroom that I didn’t have the right kind of batteries. Before I could play with him I had to run out to the convenience store. As I was anxiously purchasing my AAA’s, the elderly Korean man who runs the place gave me a look that totally said “Honey, we know what you are up to.” Don’t do what I do. The more I spend time with Fonzie, the more I like him. My opinion has gone from: This:

to THIS: Thanks to Fonzie there have been some “Happy Days” over at chez Skinny Dip. Actually I think this accurately sums up my week of “rocking and rolling” (again & again & again) with Fonzie:

“The weekend comes, my cycle hums…ready to race to you!”

OK, now that I have officially shattered more childhood memories, which sex toys are you interested in seeing reviewed on Skinny Dip?

*The Fonzie vibrator was provided to me by Eden Fantasys free of charge in exchange for my honest assessment of the product.

Christmas "Comes" in July

When Eden Fantasy’s asked me if I would be interested in reviewing the Candy Cane G-spot vibrator, what popped into my head was: “It would be really funny if it actually looked like a Candy Cane” Then, I opened the link and voila….!

A few weeks later, the toy that looks like everyone’s favorite Christmas candy landed on my doorstep. Even though its the middle of summer, the festive packaging still got me as excited as a kid on Christmas morning.

The Specs:

The Candy Cane G-Spot vibrator by Doc Johnson is a multi-speed, waterproof, phthalates free vibrator made of Tempered Glass. Yes, you heard right. GLASS. My first thought was, “I’m supposed to put THAT…THERE?!” but, as soon as I held the toy in my hand I was less nervous. The toy has a similar sturdy feel to a Pyrex baking dish. I know that doesn’t sound very sexy but, this toy is made of food grade materials which means it’s completely safe for your girl parts and hypoallergenic – making it a great choice for people who are super sensitive.

The toy is controlled by one easy to use button, has three speeds, and takes only one AA battery. As you can see from the photo, it also has some red candy-like ribbing designed to hit certain pleasure points (I’ll explain about those in a minute!)

It retails at a very affordable $32.99.

Taking off the Wrapper:

The Candy Cane G-Spot vibrator is a very esthetically pleasing toy and I really, really wanted to like it. But, the first time I used it by myself I was a bit disappointed. The vibrations felt nice but they just weren’t strong enough to get me off. I’ve used other G-Spot vibrators before but I didn’t find that the Candy Cane did much for my G-Spot initially. The red ribbing that’s meant to increase the pleasure just felt kind of awkward and bumpy. If you are looking for a toy for solo play that has powerful vibrations and will get you off quickly, I wouldn’t recommend the Candy Cane. Instead, I would suggest something more along the lines of the True Love Honey Bunny. However, if you are super sensitive to vibrations and want something very gentle, you’d probably like what the Candy Cane has to offer.

Candy is for Sharing:

So, who WOULD enjoy this toy? COUPLES!

Woo’ed by this toy’s cute packaging, I was determined to give it a second chance. I called upon my boyfriend, who happily agreed to join in on the play session. Let’s just say- the Candy Cane vibe is much more fun with two people. I would suggest using it as a teaser during foreplay or inserting it while your partner goes down on you.

Just like you wouldn’t stuff a whole candy cane in your mouth and start to chew, this toy should be enjoyed at a leisurely pace. Don’t expect instant gratification- the more you move it around inside you, the more the pleasure actually increases. I can’t even explain exactly what the red ribbing does, except that its quite magical. After a lot of build up, I eventually just blanked out and was transported to la-la land. Sugar plum faeries were dancing and I was desperately clinging to my headboard. It was that good.

Now that I think about it, the Candy Cane G-Spot vibrator is actually a lot like Christmas. In November, the holidays still seem in the near future. Then, you notice a wreath here, a candy cane there. Whoa it’s snowing! Wait, when did the malls get so crowded?! Is that a plastic reindeer on my neighbor’s lawn? Oh god, Christmas is getting closer. Really, really close. Christmas is tomorrow! OMG, THERE ARE SO MANY PRESENTS UNDER THE TREE. PRESENTS! PRESENTS! PRESENTS EVERYWHERE! OMG, CHRISTMAS IS HERE! PRESENTS, PRESENTS EVERYWHERE! WRAPPING PAPER IS FLYING ALL OVER THE PLACE. RIBBON IS BEING PULLED. YEAH THAT’S RIGHT, RIP THAT PAPER. COME ON. RIP IT! FUCKING RIP IT! YES! YES! YES! IT’S AN IPAD! NO, ITS TIFANNY’S. ITS BOTH! ITS IPADS FOR EVERYONE! YES! YES! YES! IPAD. IPAD. IPAD. OH YES. THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU. THANK YOU. breathe. exhale. After it’s all over there’s a huge mess to clean up but no one cares. Everyone is glowing and happy and then we all go to sleep.

Yes, the Candy Cane vibrator is totally like that.

To recap…

People who would enjoy the Candy Cane G-Spot vibrator:

-People who are very sensitive or have allergies & want something gentle
-Couples looking to spice up their bedroom activities with fun some sex toys.
-The toy user who already “has everything” and wants to try something totally different.
-Christmas enthusiasts.

*The Candy Cane G-Spot vibrator was provided to me by Eden Fantasys in exchange for my honest assessment of the product.

Sex toys - EdenFantasys adult toys store

What do you guys think? What are you interested in seeing my review next?

Ex-Boyfriend Letter #2


Dear ______,

YOU’RE AN ALCOHOLIC.

There I said it. I probably should have told you that 10 years ago when I broke up with you but I didn’t. I’m sure by now someone has told you this. Or some other girl you’ve dated has tried to stage an intervention. Or you’ve figured it out on your own (I hope).

It feels a bit weird writing you a letter because I often wonder if you’d even remember me, like if we happened to run into each other on the street…or in the liquor store. If you need a bit of a refresher, here it is: I met you the summer of 2000 at a cheesy bar in my hometown. I was home for the summer, after my first school year in Toronto and was on the rebound from a bad relationship. I was out with my friend that night, soaking my troubles in whatever neon colored-tropical flavored-vodka infused bitch pop I was drinking that week. When I saw you, my first thought was that you were precisely the kind of guy I NEVER date. You looked like the stereotypical West Coast surfer dude (a look that seems to overpopulate my hometown): Yellowy bleach blond spiky hair, deep tan, Hawaiian shirt, pucca shell necklace. You also had these piercing ice blue eyes. When you looked at me with those eyes, I forgave the Hawaiian shirt. You were hot, in a “could be mistaken for a member of a late 90’s boy band” kind of way. I’ve always abhorred boy bands. So, the idea of dating you seemed kinky and exotic like dating the enemy. You also drove a truck, sold car parts for a living and enjoyed Bryan Adams. We had absolutely nothing in common. You were 25. I was 19. I decided that you would make the perfect summer fling.

A few nights later we went out on our first date. After a movie and some margaritas, we ended up back at your apartment. Once inside your place, you dimmed the lights, lit candles all over the apartment and spread a blanket on the floor of your living room. Sitting on the blanket together, you poured us two glasses of wine. After a few sips of wine we were making out on the blanket. When we started peeling off each others clothes, you paused, looked at me & my ivory colored skin and dark curly hair and said “Wow, I’ve never seen a girl without a suntan. You’re beautiful. Like a painting from the Renaissance. Like the Venus de Milo“. Then you said the words that every girl wants to hear “You deserve to be worshiped” (How do you say no to that?!). And that’s exactly what you did: you started at my feet, massaging them, sucking on each of my toes, kissing my ankles, allowing your tongue to travel up my calf…no body part was neglected that night as you worked your way back up to my lips to kiss me (much, much later). We never slept together that night but, I remember my back arching in pleasure as I came. hard. many times. on your living room floor. It was totally hot. It was exactly what my body needed. In the morning, I crept home with shaky legs on a multiple orgasm high.

Everything went downhill from there.

That many orgasms in one night can turn you into a bit of a dum-dum. I had a serious case of sexually transmitted stupidity. This explains dates #2-#5.

Date #2. A few days later I went back to your apartment. Everything looked different in the light of day, without the distraction of the margaritas, the candles, THE WINE, or your head between my legs. How did I not notice that your curtains were made of fabric printed with a Marijuana Leaf motif? Or the giant Marijuana Leaf FLAG on the living room wall? Or the creepy terrarium with the Lizard inside? Or the Star Wars paraphernalia? And how did I not notice the giant BONG on your coffee table? Or the other half dozen bongs all over the living room? Was this really the apartment of the guy I had shared Chardonnay and a candle-light pic-nic with just a few nights before?! When you caught me staring at the bong, you asked “Wanna take a hit off of my Old Lady?” (huh?). I politely declined. Despite growing up on the West Coast weed has never been my thing. You replied “Suit yourself! Don’t mind if I do!”. Then you dove face down into the bong. I sat on the couch, drinking the beer you had handed me (after mentioning you’d already had 6) and watched you orally pleasure your “Old Lady”. I would have preferred if you had been orally pleasuring me. But, like I said before I was 19 and a bit of a dum-dum. At this moment I was really turned off by you but then I thought of the orgasms (orgasms? bong? orgasms? bong?) and said to myself the thing that all 19 year-olds making bad dating choices say “I’m just going to see where this goes“. I dove down and took a hit off of the “Old Lady” and hoped for the best.

Date #3. I barely remember this date. What I do remember is that it involved another cheesy bar in my hometown, lots of Red Bull and an OBSCENE amount of Tequila. One moment we’re jumping around to Basement Jaxx, the next I’m outside in a parking lot watching you puke behind a parked car. At the time I thought “This is gross!” but the joke was on me. As soon as I got home, I was more sick than I have ever been in my life. ALL NIGHT. Scary sick. TMI: I threw up and threw up until I was just throwing up stomach acid and blood. I started to cry. My Mom completely freaked out (rightfully so) and got on the phone to the doctor’s office. She was convinced that I had an ulcer and a ‘very low alcohol tolerance’. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that her daughter had a bit of a substance abuse problem of her own.

To say I was slightly “troubled” at 19 would be putting it mildly. A lot of bad stuff had happened during my first semester of college. Traumatic stuff. Rather than really face what I was going through, I figured the best thing to do was to have as much fun as possible ALL THE TIME. I was all about “self-medicating”. When I would drink, I wouldn’t just have a few. I would drink to the point of oblivion where everything I felt didn’t matter anymore. Comfortably numb was my preferred state of being. I tried to explain this to you a few times but then realized that I couldn’t. I didn’t trust you enough to tell you about the things that had happened and why I was drinking in the first place. I couldn’t even admit these things to my best friends.

When I told you about throwing up blood you said,

“That happens to me all the time”

(what?!)

As messed up as I was, I knew that being around you wasn’t good for me. But, instead of walking away at that point (hey, remember those orgasms?!) I told myself two other lies that 19-year old dum-dums making bad decisions tell themselves:

Just because HE’S drinking, doesn’t mean I have to. Besides, maybe I can help him

Which brings us to date #4. I decided that I would plan a “sober” date for us (after date #3 I couldn’t even look at a bottle of liquor without feeling nauseous). I was house sitting for my Dad and decided to have all of my girlfriends over for dinner…and invite YOU to meet EVERYONE! You showed up bleary eyed, stumbling, WASTED, with a six pack. You proceeded to sit down in front of my Dad’s TV and drink six more beers. When my girlfriends went home, I suggested that maybe you should lie down for a bit and “sleep it off”. I went to go get something from the bathroom, when I came back into the room you had taken off all of your clothes and you were standing in the middle of the room STARK NAKED.

me: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

At which point, you ran out of the room and puked in my Dad’s toilet.

As far as Summer Flings go, I was kind of hoping mine would be more along the lines of “Dirty Dancing” or “Blue Lagoon” (naked teens on a deserted island!). Instead, my summer romance had turned into “Leaving Las Vegas”.

When the amount of puke in a relationship outnumbers the amount of orgasms, that’s when you know its OVER….which totally doesn’t explain why there was a date#5.

For date #5, you asked me to the movies. Barring you managing to smuggle in a flask in the pocket of your Hawaiian shirt, I figured the movies were probably “safe”. When we arrived to the theater and you suggested we “Grab a Drink before the show”I knew it was now or never. I HAD to break-up with you. So, while we sat at the bar across the street from the movie theater, you nursing a Pint and me a tiny cup of coffee, I told you it was over. I wish I had told you the truth, that your drinking really bothered me. That I thought you needed help. But, I didn’t. I barely knew you. I don’t think I could have saved you. Not, when I needed saving myself. Instead I came up with some other bullshit reason for why I was breaking up with you: “Its not you…It’s me”

The fact of the matter was, it totally was you.

We never spoke after that night. A few months later, my best friend and I were driving through town. I looked out my window and saw you in the car next to us. Your head was hanging out of the passenger seat window. The only time I have ever leaned out of a car window like that is when I’ve had so much to drink that I am about to spill my guts. It was 2pm in the afternoon. I knew at that moment I had made the right decision.

You were a nice guy. A good-looking guy. A really good toe-sucker. We both needed help. I hope you’ve found that help. I hope you’re happy and in a good place now.

Love,

S.D

What would you say to an ex if you could say anything?

Ex-Boyfriend Letter #1


Dear ________ ,

Originally I wasn’t going to write you a letter because our break-up was pretty cut and dry. You were too old for me. We were both at different points in our lives. When we broke up, we shook hands as friends and never spoke again. But here is what I should have said to you when I had the chance:

YOUR FRIENDS TOTALLY SUCK.

They’re pretentious. They’re elitist. They are total ASS-HATS.

Hanging out with them while we were dating was honestly one of the most painful experiences of my life. Don’t believe me? Let me refresh your memory. Here are a few things that happened while we were dating that convinced me your friends were douche-bags:

1. The Ikea incident: While we were dating I had to move apartments. Your best friend kindly volunteered to help me move. While you guys were moving you managed to break the legs off of my Ikea computer desk. When this happened, you and your friend started laughing.

Me: “You guys just broke my desk”
Your friend: “It was a crappy desk anyways. I think I just did you a favor. What is this.. Ikea?”
Me: “Yeah thanks. Now my desk has no legs”
Your friend: “You should really spend the money and buy better stuff Simone. Ikea is for low income people”

I really wanted to yell at your friend and say: I just graduated university and have 30K worth of debt. I AM LOW INCOME. And you just amputated my desk. ASSHOLE.

But I didn’t. I swallowed my feelings while you stood by idly, laughing with your friend as he made fun of my stuff. I should have broken up with you then.

2. The Wife: Your best friend’s wife is a total SHE-DOUCHE. I just had to put it out there. She’s one of the most controlling, competitive people I have ever met. I tried to be friends with her but it stopped being fun when I realized she tried to control every. single. social. situation. The worst was when we’d hang out with both of them and she’d pick these crazy fights with your best friend. They’d be swapping passive aggressive comments across the dinner table while we were held hostage, listening to this crap. It was seriously stuff right off of the pages of “Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Wolf”. If I wanted to watch that, I’d rent the DVD. At least then I’d be allowed popcorn. The worst fight was definitely the one that took place at the Mexican restaurant. Between your friends embarrassing comments about how much they loved “ethnic food” and their public display of relationship problems, the staff was totally staring at our table. I just wanted to grab one of the oversize sombreros off of the wall so I could hide under it until this whole mess was over.

I know you found these fights totally awkward and inappropriate. But you never did or said anything.

The day I completely wrote your friend’s wife off as a SHE-DOUCHE was the night I showed up at your birthday toting my vintage Louis Vuitton bag. I had recently got my first “real job” and just felt like dressing up that night. As soon as she noticed the bag she was suddenly nicer to me than she had ever been. She pulled me aside and said condescendingly “Oh, Simone. Isn’t it nice to finally be able to buy nice things for yourself?“. Then, she held up her $700 pocket book and said “Welcome to the Club!“.

What I really should have said to her was this: The purse is three years old. I bought it with my own money (vintage). And despite being a CHARITY CASE in your eyes, I DO have nice things. I just don’t wear my nice things around you because frankly, you’re not worth it. And unlike you, I don’t need to rub these things in other people’s faces because my whole sense of worth isn’t built around what kind of monogram is on my purse. I actually feel really bad for you that this is how you see yourself and the world. Whatever “Club” you think you belong to, I’m not interested in joining.

3. The Hitler incident: This is what convinced me once and for all that your best friend was an asshole. We were driving through a “low income” area of Toronto that is known for its high density housing projects and large immigrant population. Your friend says,

“This neighborhood is disgusting. It doesn’t even deserve to exist”
Me: “I have friends who grew up around here”
Him: “Well, its disgusting. The city should just bulldoze the whole area”
Me: “Umm, I don’t think the residents would be too happy about that”
Him: “I would just round everyone up, put them on buses and ship them off to farms in the country. Maybe they’d learn how to become productive members of society”
Me: “Oh you mean sort of like how Hitler rounded up the Jews and sent them off somewhere?”

YEAH.


Your friend stared DAGGERS into my eyes. I’m pretty sure at that moment he hated me. And I hated him. That was also the moment I lost respect for you for not standing up against your friend’s obviously fucked up values.

You became an asshole by association.


4. The Trapeze: You and your best friend were really into Kite Surfing. My new boyfriend says that this “sport” is retarded and for pussies. I have to agree with him here. Because of your obsession with Kite surfing I will never, EVER date another guy who plays a sport that can have the prefix “XTREME” placed in front of it. I hated Kite Surfing because it totally monopolized our time together. One Friday night we went over to your friend’s house because he had set up a Trapeze swing in his loft that apparently simulated the “aerial movement” (?) of being on an actual board. I sat on the sofa, watching two 35 year old guys swing from one end of your friend’s loft to the other, like overgrown monkeys. Eventually I got so bored that I fell asleep sitting up. When I woke up, I looked at my phone and saw that 3 hours had passed. I don’t think you had even noticed that I was unconscious. I realized at this point that there wasn’t room for me in this bro-mance.

I never understood why you liked hanging out with these people so much. I always thought you were “different”. I thought you were better than all this. But, it can’t be denied that the people you choose to surround yourself with ARE a reflection on who you are and your values. You CHOSE to be these people’s friends. Looking back on you and me, I can now see how much of your friends values were your own.

I don’t think you really liked me for who I was. Not really.

There were many, many times where you criticized the way I dressed and the things I liked. You called them “tacky”. You thought I was too bright. Too glittery. My personality too brash. My hair too curly. My earrings too big. Around you, I toned down so much of myself just so that you and your friends wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. I straightened my hair. I listened to my Roots CD in private (because you thought my music taste sucked.) I tried to become the white-washed-WASP-y-white-cotton-pantie-wearing-GAP-commercial-girl that you wanted. But it didn’t work. Because that’s not who I am. I will never be white cotton panties. I will always be leather and lace and garters and bright colors. And as much as YOU hated it I love animal print (in moderation.) I have Eastern European roots-wearing animal print is like my fucking birth-right.Deal with it. I love music with bass and dancing around the living room to Craig Mack with the volume cranked. Your comments hurt my feelings because when I met you, I was happy with who I was ( I still am). It was you who didn’t like who I was.

Honestly, I think you only stayed with me because you thought I was hot and liked fucking me. When I stopped wanting to fuck you, I think we both just decided to cut our losses.


But that’s OK. Water under the bridge. In the end we both wanted people that neither of us were. You wanted a girl that would stroke your ego. I wanted a guy who stood up for what he believed in. Neither of us got what we wanted from each other.

And I hated your friends.


That pretty much sums it up.

xox

Skinny Dip


What would you say to an ex if you could say anything?

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