C U Next Tuesday
A drawing on a rock at Empire Shopping Center in Burbank. For more of my photos, follow me on Instagram.
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Filtering by Tag: VAGINAS
The Porn Library Recent Updates
Awhile back I created The Porn Library, which is a compendium of books, movies, art, and more about the adult movie business. Recently, I’ve added a few more. They are The People’s Porn: A History of Handmade Pornography in America by Lisa Z. Sigel, Smutcutter: How I Survived Porn by Sonny Malone, and Sexytime: The Post-Porn Rise of the Pornoisseur by Jacques Boyreau. Got a suggestion? Submit it here.
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The Flesh Eaters
This short story was originally published in Construction Literary Magazine in June 2018.
Dolores didn’t expect to spend the last year sewing pubic hair into a disembodied silicone vagina, but that’s the way it happened. One day, you’re working at the 7-11 on the corner of Tujunga and Magnolia, and the next day, you’re submitting your job application at a place your mother will refer to from this day forward as “the dildo factory.” In fact, it’s not a dildo factory. They make many things here. In the three and a half years that she’s worked at this place, she’s spent six months stringing anal beads, fourteen months assembling penis pumps, and two months boxing vibrators. A year ago, she found her niche: masturbators. The name sounded like something for which you should spend your Sunday mornings confessing, but in fact it was just her and four other girls in the far corner of the warehouse bent over a never-ending supply of thermoplastic rubber that had been molded to resemble the vaginas and assholes and entire rear ends of famous porn stars. At this point in her career, Dolores didn’t really think about what she was doing anymore: her head bent inches from the factory sculpted labia of a woman she’d never met as she poked the thick needle into the rubber surface and threaded another plastic pubic hair through the fake flesh. Sometimes she wondered what the real women were like. Somewhere in the Valley, they were famous actresses. On the internet, their images were beamed to places Dolores had never been in order to make men that Dolores would never meet happy, if only for a few fleeting moments. The demand was so great that Dolores and the other girls could hardly keep up with the pace. And right now, it wasn’t even the busy season. Come fall, the boss would hire another half dozen girls to work a second shift. The trucks would pull up to the back of the loading bay with increasing frequency, carting the boxed vaginas off to parts unknown. It made Dolores sad to see them leave, like watching your children head off for their first day of school. How would you defend them from the world? A week ago, Dolores was the last one leaving, and without thinking, she walked over to the table, picked up one of the boxes with a vagina in it, and dropped it into her bag. It was heavy—remarkably so—and she wondered briefly if the camera mounted in the corner where the wall met the ceiling had seen what she had done, even though she had turned her back to its prying eye. At home, she removed the vagina from her bag, set it on her dining room table, and considered it. On the cover of the box, the woman whose vagina it was had been dressed up like a waitress and was holding up her fake vagina like she was serving it for dinner. Dolores supposed that’s what men wanted: some piece of you offered up like a slice of pie for their consumption. To be honest, the thought didn’t make her mad. It made her lonely. As the sun set outside, and the room glowed with the golden hour, she had to believe that there was someone out there who would want the person Dolores really was, served on a platter, whole and ready to be eaten. Perhaps there was one man for whom she—meat and bone, organs and innards, blood and matter—would be enough to sate.
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The Lost Vagina
“The point is, I started thinking, you know, what if my silicone vagina didn’t have to be lost?” Read the rest of my latest Reverse Cowgirl newsletter here, and don’t forget to subscribe to my newsletter while you’re there.
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Lost Objects Is Here
Delighted to have a story I wrote in the newly released LOST OBJECTS from Hat & Beard Press. It’s the true story of a silicone vagina I lost. My fellow contributors include Neil LaBute, Lydia Millet, and Geoff Manaugh. Until 12/25 you can use the code LOSTOBJECTS for 20% off the retail price of the book from Hat & Beard.
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My Lost Vagina
Illustration by Jennifer Heuer
A story I wrote about a silicone vagina that I lost appears in Lost Objects: 50 Stories About the Things We Miss and Why They Matter. In an interview with PRINT, co-editor Rob Walker gave my story a shout out:
What are, say, three of the most surprising objects in your book?
Walker: For me, I’d say the silicone vagina that Susannah Breslin wrote about is not something I would have predicted. Then maybe Mandy Keifetz’ orgone accumulator, and Neil LaBute’s pickled octopus.
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This Smells Like My Vagina
Image via Goop
Fascinating. How is this real? Gwyneth Paltrow’s Goop is selling a candle called This Smells Like My Vagina. It costs $75, and here’s the backstory:
“This candle started as a joke between perfumer Douglas Little and GP—the two were working on a fragrance, and she blurted out, ‘Uhhh..this smells like a vagina’—but evolved into a funny, gorgeous, sexy, and beautifully unexpected scent. (That turned out to be perfect as a candle—we did a test run at an In goop Health, and it sold out within hours.) It’s a blend of geranium, citrusy bergamot, and cedar absolutes juxtaposed with Damask rose and ambrette seed that puts us in mind of fantasy, seduction, and a sophisticated warmth.”
The Cut has some very funny reviews.
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The Lost Vagina
Image credit: Jen Heuer
Today, my contribution to Lost Objects, "Silicone Vagina," is online. It's a poignant tale involving porn, strippers, and the fake genitalia that got away. It's a true story.
"One night, I got invited to a strip club in the Valley. A famous porn star was dancing there that evening. Her name was Nikki Tyler. She was blonde and buxom and bold, and I recall sitting next to the edge of the stage upon which she was writhing, naked and shining, and she looked like something I’d never seen."
Hollywood
12 Likes, 1 Comments - Susannah Breslin (@susannahbreslin) on Instagram: "Hollywood"
I met Fernando on Hollywood Boulevard. He's from Puerto Rico. His dream is to be on "The Ellen Show." His sign advertises a "VAGINA MASSAGE FREE TRIAL." He holds the sign, and passersby -- tourists, mostly -- pay him to take their picture with him.
The Fleshlight Documentary
We're #1
A fun image by Jaime Rojo via This Isn't Happiness.
Cleavag Redux
I wrote a silly thing about cleavag for Men's Health.
"Sure, her face is beautiful, her breasts are impressive, and her hips are pleasing, but what draws your eye downtown is the barely-covered area between her bellybutton and her crotch. The top of her bikini pulled low, she practically demands us to gaze upon this year’s newest trend: a daring flash of vagina cleavage."
Cleavag Is the New Cleavage
Image credit: SI
My god, Jennifer Weiner is fucking annoying. She's made a career out of writing crappy books and carping about how men are to blame for her lack of being taken seriously when the reality is that her books are what cause her to lack being taken seriously.
Most recently, she crawled out of the ooze to weinerwhine about how pubic hair or something: "Great! Another Thing to Hate About Ourselves." She wordclutters on for a while before getting to her point:
"This year, the hot new body part is the formerly unnoticed span of flesh between the top of one’s panties and the labia majora, currently displayed on the cover of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition by the model Hannah Davis."
Reference: This is the Weiner. This is the Davis.
In other words, Weiner says, the SI cover is POORRRNNNN:
"With hard-core pornography available to anyone with a laptop and a credit card, Sports Illustrated has to raise the stakes if it wants to stay relevant."
Followed by this HILARIOUS admission:
"(Disclosure: my gentleman caller edits books for Sports Illustrated and is the author of the oral history of the swimsuit issue that appears in '50 Years of Beautiful,' a coffee-table book of swimsuit shots. #Awkward.)"
#Indeed.
The rest is a fuzzy blur of complaints against Hannah's "mons pubis" and some sort of garbled defense of a vagina area that is hirsute and fat. Or something. I was left weinerized. #Confused.
(See also: FUPA.)
Personally, I was more excited by SI's half-crotch shot because I was like: TREND. What the image makes us look for is ... what to call it?
I settled on cleavag.
Let's celebrate it.
What's for Dinner
Image credit: @raisedbythewolvesau via This Isn't Happiness
Bad Girl
Down There
"In certain corners of Manhattan, the bald look of the Brazilian has become déclassé, more suggestive of a naked Barbie doll or a reality television starlet than an organic lifestyle of cold-pressed juice and barre classes."
[NYT]
Mr. Fleshlight
Photo credit: Jack Davies
"Between the airport and his office, he began to redesign the product in his mind. 'I knew that it would have to be portable; it had to be small; it had to be able to fit easily into the hand so that it could facilitate the use of the product. I thought, Guys are into tools. And what I had settled on was a flashlight, so I decided to call it Fleshlight.'"
[Vice]
Numbers Game
Like He Died
