How Grey Does Your Garden Grow?

OK, here's a TMI tidbit: I recently discovered I have not one, not two, but AT LEAST four or five pubic hairs that have gone gray. In my attempts to mask that fact and make myself feel young again, I've become quite obsessed with shaving down there and making sure that I sport the oh-so-trendy, oh-so-sexy, youthful Brazilian wax look at all times.

Now that we've got that out in the open, and I trust that you're sufficiently grossed-out, let's talk about aging. I'm 35. Turning 36 in a few weeks (eek!). A few gray hairs on my head are fine; I've dealt with that since I was in my early 20s, and each time I fish out those scraggly white strands, I either stare in wonderment at this strange product of my otherwise youthful body or I look in the mirror and start to see myself fifty years from now, and suddenly my imagination goes wild. I begin to wonder how deep those thin wrinkles around my eyes are going to get and if and when I'll suddenly stop caring. I imagine how they will undoubtedly multiply over the years, and I picture my mother and grandmother staring back at me, bags under my eyes, glaucoma setting in, and moles aplenty dotting the eroding landscape of my face. And then I wonder if my husband, who I assume will be in the rocking chair next to me (awwww), will still look at me one day and feel lust for my decrepit, wrinkly, old body and if he'll get turned on when I take out my dentures. (He'd call me Gummo.)

It's a weird thing, aging. There is a point in your life when it ceases to be "growing older" and finally becomes the stage called "aging," when instead of thinking that you're getting better with age, you fear the moment when your body suddenly turns sour and people might look at you and feel nothing but pity. Or worse, ignore you altogether.

Slate Magazine recently published a special issue on old people, replete with articles from the senior perspective and tackling issues that will undoubtedly be causes for concern among our aging baby boomer populace. One particular article got me thinking -- entitled "Naughty Nursing Homes: IS IT TIME TO LET THE ELDERLY HAVE MORE SEX?" -- what will sex be like at 70 or 80? Will I still want it, perhaps even more than I do now? Will the nursing home I'm in be one big swinger convention? And the gray pubes -- (sorry, stunning visual alert!) well, will I be shaving my pussy even then? Y'know, cuz it'd be like petting a hairless kitty?

This article was truly eye-opening. There are quite a few oversexed seniors out there, and unfortunately they're being denied the right to have sex, mainly because of liability and the fear of lawsuits on the part of the nursing homes. Some seniors are even being denied the right to conjugal visits from their significant others, which I think is downright appalling. This is obviously an issue that needs more media attention, but I fear that our ageist culture will get too grossed out by the notion of grandma and gramps getting it on in the bingo room.

It's something we have to come to terms with eventually. Just like our graying pubic hairs and deepening wrinkles.

So Much for Family Values

Regardless of what side of the political fence you happen to stand on, one thing is clear: There's nothing like Sex to get all hosts of people talking about you and your campaign. The Scandal! The Hypocrisy! The Sex! The Excuses! The Spin! The Sex!

As we all know, sex has been the downfall of many a politician, whether he solicited the services of a high-price call girl, or had a wide stance, or simply exchanged emails and IMs with an underage page. And that's just in the last few years, people. I could go on and on about the scandals that have dotted - nay, smeared, - the political landscape for decades, in all their strange, fetid forms, the entire world over.

The latest political sex scandal to hit the Internets is that of John McCain's VP pick, Sarah Palin and her 17-year-old daughter, who is unwed, underage, and 5 months pregnant. This, of course, is not the scandal. It is that the daughter of a conservative Republican who opposes sex education where contraception is taught and who favors abstinence-only education, is now in the national spotlight showing the world that teaching abstinence-only just doesn't cut it in getting teenagers to abstain. Teenagers will have sex. Even teenagers who grew up in conservative households. ESPECIALLY teenagers who grew up in conservative households. When will conservatives figure this out?

What I find incredibly ironic is that this particular "sex scandal" has more to do with the issues at hand than any other sex scandal that has plagued a campaign in recent history. Sure, all those politicians who try to cover up their propensities for gay trysts and illicit sexcapades should be chastised for hiding behind ultra-conservative, right-wing dogmas. They are obviously in severe denial and suffering from years and years of sexual repression and pent-up sexual frustration. This is different. This is a case where a politician's beliefs and values are challenged by the very reason she upholds those beliefs and values -- her family, and when there is evidence to support the case for a reevaluation and reexamination of her platform, it is quickly dismissed. Pundits and spin doctors alike chalk it up to the fact that the candidate is indeed "human" and that a mother shouldn't be held responsible for a 17-year-old daughter's faults. Bullshit. Your "family values" are now being put to the test, and all you can do is shrug your shoulders and say "values shmalues, leave us alone" ??? This is hypocrisy at its height.

Enough of me on my soapbox. I just hope this woman isn't elected. Otherwise, we'll have four more years of rose-colored glasses, convenient amnesia, and a government that refuses to see how silly their puritanical policies are.

For an entertaining AND educational podcast on sex, go to The Midwest Teen Sex Show or get your sex questions answered at Scarleteen.com.

Boozy John and the Thieving Whore

If I were smart enough and had more creativity than the ounce that I struggle to keep now, I would create a mildly successful and wildly entertaining screenplay based on the Adventures of Boozy John. Who's Boozy John you ask? Well, I'll tell you. He's the 38-year-old guy who woke up one morning and told himself that he needed to change his loser status. He rolled out of his futon, yelled at his mom to leave him alone, and looked in the mirror and said, "John, enough of this life of Taco Bell every night and bootleg porn to while away the lonely hours before dawn. You've got to make a change." So, in a moment of spontaneity, he decides to get a $62,000 cash advance on his credit cards and, intending to spend the cash fairly quickly, stuffs all of it into a duffle bag. Then, cash in tow, Boozy John gets on his bike (yes, his BIKE) and rides to the local bar, indulging in numerous glasses of cognac (because, y'know, he's rich now, and HE'S CLASSY). Unfortunately, John fails to realize how intoxicating 12 glasses of cognac can be, and drunk off the power of 62,000 crisp one-dollar bills in his bag and the hard liquor now marinating his liver, Boozy John decides to get a hooker. Not just any hooker, mind you. He had to find one that was willing to hop on the handlebars of a ten-speed operated by a drunk, middle-aged bicyclist reeking of cognac and Taco Bell. (Believe it or not, a hooker like that isn't hard to find. Trust me, don't ask me how I know.) Enter Jessica Garcia, a 30-year-old streetwalker who was willing to duck into an abandoned building and give Boozy John a $30 blow job. After one whiff of his stale breath, Jessica senses an opportunity, especially after Boozy John boasts of his ability to cum in 2 seconds and slurs in her ear that he had $62,000 in cash in his duffle bag. Before you know it, dear readers, John is out cold, fly unzipped, cum stains on his corduroys, bike stolen, and the duffle bag nowhere to be found.

I wish I could say this were my story, but (as they say) truth is stranger than fiction. Don't believe me? Here's the article: Cops: Hooker swipes $62G from boozy john. My only question is, couldn't he have splurged on a cab or, I dunno, a savings account? I can only hope that he got a good blow job at least. Perhaps he and the would-be porn inspector should get together and write their own screenplay based on their lives. It would be the first porno based on a true story.