Cream In Your Pants Cake


It’s the last week of Masturbation Month! I’m all for masturbation and I’m all for taking pleasure in things. Like masturbation because it’s masturbation. Or food because I love food. Especially good food. Especially good food that I didn’t make because I can barely cook and tend to start fires when I do. This is why when my mom told me about Cream in Your Pants Cake, I was curious.

Cream in Your Pants Cake is the chocolate cake that you get from Save On Foods. You go to their bakery section and pick it out and they box it up for you. Then you take it home and enjoy. I don’t actually know what Cream in Your Pants cake is actually called though. It might be Chocolate Tuxedo cake or something. In any event, I recommend that if you have a nearby Save On Foods that you go and get whatever chocolate cake that they have.


The very first time my mom bought Cream in Your Pants cake home, I was skeptical. My mother was being dramatic. She was just calling it Cream in Your Pants cake to get a rise out of me. There was no way that Cream in Your Pants cake could make me cream in my pants. I mean…I’m very sexually aware of myself and food had never turned me on. The idea of foods being aphrodisiacs seems odd to me, but to each their own right? If you want to slurp oysters and gnaw on weird roots because they’ll increase your libido and put you in the mood, that’s your business.

I can’t judge you because I sometimes write my own porn and my first bite of this Cream in Your Pants Cake made me make some very sexual noises in front of my momma.

We had brought the cake home, had dinner, and it was dessert time. Mom sliced up the cake, scooped us some ice cream and handed us our plates. I was happy because I was getting chocolate cake. I love chocolate cake. I had also just eaten food that my mom had made and she’s a really good cook so there was really nothing wrong with my night. I was living my best life. Good food, good cake, and I was spending time with my family.

Then I took my first bite of this cake and it was like the heavens opened up and sang a sweet, sweet chorus of love, blessings, and orgasms. My whole body came to life as everything started to tingle in a very happy way and I groaned. Not a fake, overly enthusiastic groan. It was a groan of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Yes, my mom was there. That didn’t stop me announcing right away that I had just creamed my pants. It also didn’t stop my mom from yelling “I TOLD YOU SO!”

The cake was moist and so was I.


Outside of a good massage or a good wank session, nothing has come close to making me feel the way that first bite of Cream in Your Pants Cake did. It was this beautiful explosion of chocolate that shook me to my very core. Since then I’ve had lots of foods that have made me make happy bedroom noises, but there isn’t much that compares to this cake. I love this cake. I would say that I want to bathe in this cake, but that would be a waste. I honestly just want more of this cake.

Or cake in general. I love cake.


My great grandmother saw me holding sex toys



May is Masturbation Month so I’m going to tell you about the time I demonstrated sex toys in front of my Great Grandmother.

My Great Grandmother Lizette was an amazing woman. I just called her Grandma though. She passed away in 2014 and I still think about her and the amazing childhood that she gave me. But I sometimes also think about the time that I demonstrated sex toys in front of her. It totally wasn’t just her. It was my mom, my nana (mom’s mom), a few of my aunts, great aunts, childhood teachers, cousins, and a whole lineup of family members that were in attendance for my sex toy demonstration. Basically, it was my family matriarch and a lot of very amazing women that I hold near and dear to my heart watching while I pulled sex toys out of a bag and waved them around.

At the time I was a Passion Party Consultant. I liked to just say that I sold sex toys because I didn’t really attempt to sell the other stuff because it didn’t really interest me and lotions kind of sell themselves. If it smells nice and feels nice, people will buy lotion.


Lubricant, purple dildos, and g-spot cream on the other hand? That stuff is a bit harder to sell and you really need an enthusiastic audience to get people interested. Now let me me tell you! There is no better audience than Grandma and a room full of women who were mostly there thanks to her. It also helped that this audience likes to support me in all of my antics no matter what they are. Even if those antics involve me handing a giant purple dildo around the room and telling them to turn it on and touch it to their noses because if you like how it feels on your nose then you’ll like how it feels on your downtown.

So Grandma watched me pull toy after toy out of my little bag of tricks and hand them around the room. She chuckled and didn’t give my nana or my mom any disapproving looks so I was happy to carry on demonstrating all my lotions, toys, and whatnots to 4 generations of my family. They as listened and watched me handle phallic objects like an obvious pro, they tested lotion, smelled perfume, and they even watched me demonstrate the water-based lubricant  my company sold.

Now, the upside of water-based lube is that it’s fairly cheap, and safe to use with condoms and/or sex toys. However, water-based lube can dry up rather quickly or get absorbed quickly. Which can be a bit of a downer if you have to constantly keep reaching for the ol’ bottle o’lube. This was something that I professionally stated to my very supportive audience. But the good thing about water-based lubricants is that they can be easily reactivated with water. Or spit.


While I was explaining all of this to the women who were trapped in the room with me, I was rubbing the before mentioned water-based lubricant between my fingers to dry it up. I slowly worked it between my fingers while talking about the texture of the lube, how it more or less just dried up and shouldn’t stain anything or create a huge mess if it got places it shouldn’t. Once it was all dried up, I looked nervously at Grandma, my nana, my mom, and all of the wonderful women who had watched me grow into the woman I was then and the woman I am today. Then I promptly spit into my hand and gleefully held it up to show how easy it was reactivate water-based lube.

My grandma saw it all. When she didn’t tell me to go cut my own switch, I realized…this was ok. My love for sex, masturbation, and things that go buzz in the night were all ok. I mean, if my grandma didn’t scold me for this then only the gods could judge me at that point. Considering the fact that my grandma was a force of nature on her own, I’m pretty sure that even a god wouldn’t judge me. So this was ok. Sex toys, masturbation, and sex in general…it was all normal. It was all ok. Or at least that’s what I decided to think after letting my grandma witness me waving sex toys all around the room and not judging me, but also still loving me for exactly who I was. Never mind that my hands were covered in spit and lube.

Happy Masturbation Month, everyone!

The time that I got a sex toy taken away



Sometimes I think that I have no shame. So many people have told me that I have no shame, that I’ve started to believe it. Not much phases me. Normally I can brush things off easily and move on. Growing up with my dad, it’s a skill that I had to learn. Especially when he would hear a mall alarm go off and he would take off sprinting while everyone stared and you either had to run with him or pretend you didn’t notice him. Anyway. I’m pretty sure that I have next to no shame. Especially after the time a security guard at Heathrow Airport pulled a sex toy out of my bag.

You see, on night in Wales I was packing to fly home for winter break. My teammates and friends were coming over to my place to help me carry my bags to my bus and see me off. My backpack was stuffed with my hoodie, a couple of books that I needed for a research paper, and my bags were more or less packed. I was excited to be going home. My room was even clean so that I would come back to a tidy room!

There was also a sex toy out on my desk and my door was opening and my friends and teammates were about to walk in.

In a panic I grabbed my sex toy and jammed it into my backpack.

I didn’t remember the toy in my backpack until I was going through airport security the next day. I had just pulled my laptop out and put it in a bin with my phone and send my backpack through the scanner ahead of my boots that were in a bin of their own. Usual airport stuff right?

Then I was asked to step aside so my bag could be searched. I’ve had my bags go through random searches more than a few times so I knew the drill. I stepped off to the side and stood by quietly while the security officer went through my bag.


Compartment, by compartment my Swiss Army bag was opened and sifted through. My knick knacks and thingamajigs were pulled out and examined. My hoodie was tugged free and set aside. My comfy socks were tossed on top of my hoodie. Item by item, the security officer looked at my things while I patiently waited because there was nothing else for me to do. For the record: Swiss Army backpacks are basically Mary Poppins bags on steroids. Those things will hold everything plus a clunky Buick.

Until he pulled a bright purple vibrator from my bag.

My jaw dropped.


It was then I learned that I still had some shame left in me as this poor man gingerly held up a thing that was essentially a big, purple dick and asked me what it was. I heard someone gasp behind me. This man was making no secret that he had found something in my bags. He asked me again what the grape coloured, one-eyed monster was that he was holding between his thumb and forefinger. He knew what it was. The way he was holding it away from himself made it obvious. He was holding it like it was a snapping turtle that was about to attach itself to his nose and never let go. I honestly thought the airport was about to turn into that scene from Monsters Inc when that one monster had a sock on its back.

I didn’t want to make a scene so I told him it was a vibrator.

He told me I couldn’t keep it.

I didn’t fight him on it.

I quietly thanked him for his time while giving thanks that no one could see me blushing even though I wanted to crawl under a rock and hide. Then I packed everything back into my backpack while staring longingly at what was my favourite toy. It had taken me so long to find a toy that I loved like I loved that one. It was also damn expensive so I was sad to see it go.

After that day I learned to double check my bags before heading off to the airport. Now I know to never travel with anything that I wouldn’t want airport security to publicly confiscate. I also generally try to remember not to have sex toys sitting out when friends come over to avoid frantically hiding them.

Turning grey



Lately I’ve been trying to live more frugally so that I can continue to indulge my habit for buying expensive plane tickets. So I’ve cut back on lots of things. I don’t buy as many nuggets, I drive less to save on gas, I’m careful to only buy food that I need, and I no longer get my lady bits waxed. I’m also avoiding the urge to dye my hair lately.

Now if you know me, you know that I have the maturity of a 12-year-old boy.

If you know my mom, you know that she has aged extremely well. She’s in her 50’s, but I’ve seen people mistake her for late 30’s. My mother is aging with much grace and dignity.

Me on the other hand?

Not so much.

I’ve spent the last two years plucking a grey hair that has insisted on growing on my left temple. It would grow. I would pluck it. It would eventually grow back and I would pluck it again. Early grey hair is a thing on my dads side of the family and I had inherited that fun trait. So I waged a 2 year battle with this one grey hair that insisted on growing. It became my cat that came back the very next day.


Until this year when two more grey hairs joined the one that I had been waging a war against. At first I tried plucking all three of them. Except they would all grow back. They would grow back faster. Within weeks of plucking they would come back sparkling and happy. I would look in the mirror and they would be there, glittering away.

So I gave up. Now I’m letting them grow. I have made peace with my hair glitter.

Bring on the silver fox look!


At least this is how I felt until I went to maintain my lady garden last week and discovered a grey hair. I had taken my first swipe with the razor and examined the blades, as is my habit, and saw…glitter. One lonely piece of shining, sparkling, vibrant, silver among all of my dark carpet that matches my dark drapes. Except now my dark drapes with specks of silver now had a matching dark carpet with a speck of silver to match.

I frantically finished shaving and every time I would shave a stripe off I would search for more grey. I found none. There was just one lonely grey in my lady garden.

Now I’m writing this with most of the same horror that I felt last week when I initially found that my dark and silver drapes had a matching dark and silver carpet. I’m honestly not ready to be a silver fox!

And that’s ok.

I am vain and that’s ok.

I’ve decided that I am allowed to be vain and pluck my silver threading. Even if I somehow pluck myself bald. Then when the silver threading turns into salt and pepper shenanigans, it’ll be ok to dye my hair. I’m allowed to be crazy, insecure, and weird about these sorts of things. I am not ready to look my age and that’s ok.

I plan to age gracefully like my mother, even if I have to do it artificially. One shaved grey pube at a time if I must.

I learned how to do my makeup!



In my last post I wrote about how I do my makeup. It involves me repeatedly checking myself in the mirror to see if I still resemble a human being and more or less hoping for the best. I honestly have never had a clue about what I’ve been doing and based what I was doing off a lot of makeup how-to videos and seeing my friends do their own makeup. This resulted in me doing weird things, having no idea why I was doing these weird things and sometimes the end result would leave me looking like the Ultimate Warrior.

Why was I dabbing this stuff on when I striped this stuff on? I saw someone do circular motions when putting on blush so I always did circular motions when putting on blush. Do I need to make all these faces when putting on eyeliner? Eventually I always just say “fuck it” and just use my fingers to smear everything on because that seems easier than trying to figure out what the sponge thing was for. You know, after I’ve finished my Ultimate Warrior look.

As it turns out, that sponge is a beauty blender and you need to get it wet before you use it.

I learned this from my friend Sheena who is a makeup artist based in the Greater Vancouver Area.

After years of not really knowing what I’m doing and thinking makeup how-to’s lie about how easy it is to put stuff on, I finally decided enough was enough. It was time for me to actually learn about what the hell I was doing and how not to sometimes wind up looking like a WWE wrestler. So I booked a learning session with Sheena. She was nice enough to offer some suggestions and we decided that I would bring my makeup bag over to her place and she would help me learn how to do a couple of basic looks on myself.

In the past, I’ve always had issues with wearing makeup because I feel like I would spend the whole day looking in a mirror and adjusting it. It was never as flawless as I wanted to me. Something always needed to be blended, or running, or smeared. Every time I went near a mirror, I was adjusting something. Of course I would notice more things as lighting changed and…I honestly wasn’t overly confident wearing makeup. It was nice that I could cover my bad skin up, but I was always looking in a mirror and worrying about how I looked.

This is where Sheena comes in.

Before we did anything, she looked at everything that I had in my makeup bag and asked how I used it. She pulled everything out and we talked about why I liked it, what I used it for, and she made a few comments on what she thought of the product. Then she had me start doing my makeup so she could see what I did and…


I very quickly learned that I needed to stop finger painting foundation on to my face. I also learned how to properly use a beauty blender.

Honestly, if that was all I learned that day, I would have been happy. Instead of an awkward smearing of foundation that I would spend the rest of the day blending in with my fingers, I got a flawless, clean look. Sheena applied foundation on half of my face to show me how to use my beauty blender and then had me do the other side to practice what she just showed me. Once I’d gotten done blending in my side, I truly loved how I looked. My skin looked even, blemish free, and not at all cakey or streaky.

But things didn’t end there. I learned how to use my weird eyebrow kit to make my brows look super full, arched, and pretty. Sheena also used some of her products on me, to show me how they worked. She showed me how to use concealer and a contouring kit. Then she helped me apply my favourite lipstick. Everything she showed me, I could easily do on my own. The best part was that everything she showed me, I could pick and choose from. I didn’t have to do everything as a full routine. I could just put foundation on and define my brows for a super cute day look, or I could go a bit further with bold lipstick and a bit of contouring for a glammy night look.


Look by Sheena  Sass by me

Mostly I was super stoked on the fact that I could just spend a few minutes in the morning defining my eyebrows and wind up looking like an uber version of my cuteself. Seriously. It takes me less than 3 minutes to do my eyebrows in the morning and the effect is amazing. I personally think that my eyes look a little bigger and more expressive, and I feel like I look like I just spend an hour doing my makeup when all I really did was brush some powder on my brows.

Honestly, I am so happy that I booked this learning session with Sheena. Not only was she my friend, but she was an utter professional too. She used the tools that I already owned and taught me how to use them confidently. I also left the session feeling like I would never wind up looking like the Ultimate Warrior ever again.

Unless I wanted to.

END NOTE: If you’ve read this far, go check out Sheena’s Instagram, @sheena_mua_. She is a makeup artist based out of the Greater Vancouver Area and is available for bookings.