Oh, sure, I could get into the habit of posting this little graphic every few days to warn people about the current PMS threat level.

(Today is Yellow, lucky you.)

Or I could just point you to PMS Buddy, a free service to help you track “that time of the month” for the women in your life.

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What kind of world are we living in if things like Sega’s new LoveTrainer can actually find a market?

Part Demolition Man, part mp3 headset, part yenta, the “LoveTrainer” — from Sega Toys, no less — bills itself as a “unisex sex enhancer that combines biofeedback training with the excitement of your favorite music”.

Did I mention the “sensuous voice commands” issued to clue-in the clueless? You’ll never be at a loss for ways to keep your hands and other appendages occupied with hits like these:

• “The foreplay will now begin!”
• “Please confirm the heart rate sensor.”
• “Your stamina will now be tested.”
• “The love making will now begin.”
• “Following the beat make love much harder.”

Seriously, with a price tag of $79.95 I’m guessing you can find some crack-riddled whore to sit by your bed and offer similar suggestions at half the price. Throw in a pack of cigarettes, and I bet she’d hold your boom box for you, too.

[Via Gizmodo]

My latest column, Hooking Up is Nothing New, is up at Pajamas Media.

Striking in the nude to protest low wages for nude models? Reminds me of something about a cow and buying milk….

Look, I love a good orgasm as much as the next person, but to start a church for one? That seems a bit odd, even to me. But, hey, I’m nothing if not open-minded.

Not surprisingly, the church was founded by an artist, Carlos Bebeacua from Lövestad (no joke) in southern Sweden, a place known for being a bit more in tune with their inner sex freaks than we are here in the U.S.

“The orgasm is God, the orgasm should be worshiped,” Bebeacua told the Kvällsposten newspaper.

“The orgasm is the ultimate feeling of lust, it shouldn’t be limited to ejaculation. You can reach it through art or by looking at a landscape and thinking ‘Wow!’”

As such, the church has only priestesses, and its scriptures are the Catechism of Orgasm which preaches the gospel of sex.

Sound good? Then get down on your knees and… pray.

Earlier today, David Duchovny left the rehab center where he’d been receiving treatment for sexual addiction. According to his attorney, the Californication star “successfully completed his treatment”, whatever that means.

But it kind of makes you wonder: has the man even taken a good look at his wife? Hell, I’d be addicted to sex if I was sleeping with Téa Leone.

A designer vagina? Thanks, I’ll stick with my generic one. I like to think of it as “retro”.

You don’t hear a lot of men bragging about lasting “all night” anymore. Maybe that’s an unanticipated benefit of Viagra: such boasting would lead to speculation that a man had pecker problems only a pharmaceutical could cure. And, really, how many men want to admit to such a thing?

Besides, if a recent survey is to be believed, lasting all night long isn’t even necessary.

A survey of sex therapists concluded the optimal amount of time for sexual intercourse was 3 to 13 minutes. The findings, to be published in the May issue of the Journal of Sexual Medicine, strike at the notion that endurance is the key to a great sex life.

The researchers hope this will ease the minds of folks who, for whatever reason, are curious how their sex lives stack up against everyone else’s. So just remember, guys: the goal is to last longer than the commercial break. Do it, and she just might get your beer for you when it’s done.

Apparently, you really can buy everything online these days… including the opportunity to pay child support for 18 or so years after winning an auction to have sex with a complete stranger.

A woman in Germany who became pregnant after an online sex auction has won a court battle to force the Web site that hosted the sale to reveal the names of the winners, so she can find out who’s the father.

Six different men won Internet auctions to have sex with the woman in April and May last year. They were only known to her by their online names, a spokesman for a court in the southwestern city of Stuttgart said Wednesday.

“The woman wanted to discover which one of the men had made her pregnant,” the spokesman said. “So she needed their contact details. Of course, if they’re not willing to go along with the gene test, she’ll have to take them to court.”

The woman asked the site’s operator to reveal the true identity of the men, but it refused, citing a confidentiality clause in its terms and conditions.

The court ruled in her favor, saying the child’s right to know who its father was took precedence.

Gee, and I thought I was lucky to get a pair of brand new Ferragamos for a mere $28 on eBay.

Anyone want to explain to me why it’s a bad thing to call an unwed, pregnant teenage girl (and the boy who knocked her up) sluts?

The law capping Medicaid’s nursing home benefits for senior citizens at $35 per day was created back in the 1980s. During that same time, inflation has nearly doubled. As a result, that $35 just doesn’t stretch far anymore, which means many low-income senior citizens in nursing homes are spending their “golden years” in misery.

Florida state Rep. Rick Kriseman has a plan to fix that by encouraging people to frequent strip clubs more often and buy more lap dances.

Kind of.

The proposed law, House Bill 751, would create a sales tax on “adult entertainment services” that would be fed to low-income nursing homes, the Sun reported. These funds would defray the cost of some services for senior citizens, including haircuts and trips to the movies.

Men throughout Florida may very well have good cause to rejoice if this Bill passes. After all, how can a wife complain when her husband announces he’s going to do something nice for his mother-in-law by stepping out for a quick lap dance?

So, imagine you’ve been married a while and the blush has worn off. Bathroom doors remain open throughout the performance. Your daily Happy Hour becomes the Hour of Dread as you postpone returning home, day after day. You don’t even bother with hall sex because it just seems like too much effort.

Then you get to thinking to yourself, “Self, I think I’m going to go get some nookie on the side. I’m going to go down to a brothel. I’m going to pay some stranger to get jiggy with me.”

Wouldn’t it just be a bitch to find that the hooker you just hired is your wife?

Now that another Thanksgiving is literally under my belt, I guess I can’t put off Christmas shopping any longer.

Shopping for my son is simple. Come mid-November, my son points at just about every commercial on TV and says “I want that!” At this point, he’s asked for so many things I can’t possibly go wrong. When it comes to buying him gifts, I tend to go overboard and then wind up on Christmas Eve, surrounded by wrapping paper and ribbon, trying to decide which of the excess can be held back until his birthday in March. Somehow every year I talk myself out of putting some away, probably because I know I’ll just wind up over-shopping for his birthday, too.

The Venomous Hubby is far more difficult to shop for, however. Years ago, I’d started getting into the habit of taking note whenever he saw something that caught his fancy, then adding them to an Amazon gift list so I’d have a backlog of ideas: James Bond DVDs, video games, a TV tuner card for his computer, whenever he said he wanted something, I hunted it down and saved the link in the hope of making gift-giving a bit easier.

Unfortunately, I’ve somehow managed to buy him just about everything he’d expressed interest in this year, which means I have absolutely no idea about what else he wants! To make matters worse, his birthday is December 12, which means that I’ve been pleading for two days for him to come up with a Wish List.

The answer’s always the same: “Oh, I don’t know. I could use some slacks, I guess. Maybe a new tie or sweater?” Those are so boring, though. They’re “Dad Gifts”, and something within me refuses to give up seeing his face light up with surprise and delight when he opens his presents on Christmas.

So while I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out what my husband secretly wants most of all, one answer has come to mind again and again: SEX. He is, after all, 100% male and a parent on top of that, both of which mean that as far as he’s concerned he never, ever, ever gets enough. I will begrudgingly admit that he might have a point.

Now, back when we first became parents, VH and I established one Christmas tradition that we’ve held onto steadfastly over the years: on Christmas Eve: after our son has finally — finally! — nodded off with visions of sugar plums dancing through his head (or, more likely, images of battles between toy soldiers and remote control miniature Abrams and Panzer tanks, since none of us have any clue what sugar plums are), we stay up and enjoy a few cups of spiked egg nog. Then we exchange a few special gifts so we can enjoy that “Wow” moment without it getting lost in the gift-opening carnage that starts the instant my son opens his first present Christmas morning.

Usually, the gifts we select to exchange on Christmas Eve are the most special ones, the ones we’ve spent the most time picking out for each other in the knowledge that they’re exactly what the other most wants. Last year he gave me a bottle of my favorite perfume, Chanel No. 5, and an autographed copy of a book by Anthony Bourdain. I gave him a hand-carved Meerschaum pipe and a vintage smoking jacket.

Then, of course, we had sex on the floor between the sparkling Christmas tree and the roaring fire. From what I remember, we both agreed it was perfect. Why mess with a good thing?

So this year I checked out an online adult site, Vibrator.com and browsed through the vast selection of sex toys. Talk about putting the Ho in the ol’ Ho, Ho, Ho! I had no idea there were so many different shapes, sizes and colors of vibrators!

But enough about me. I needed to find something for VH, so I bought a couple of erotic games, which are certain to light up his face and lead to that that “WOW!” moments since they ensure he’ll get what he really, really wants most: SEX, and lots of it.

Yes, folks, it truly is better to give than receive. But just barely.

Remember Kyla Ebbert, the blond, leggy young woman who started a brouhaha when Southwest Airlines kicked her off the flight for dressing inappropriately?

She’s posing for Playboy now.

Anyone smell a setup?

I’d raise my hand, but with this cold still having me under the weather, I can’t smell a thing. Not even her.

(Thanks to Jae for sending in that slink!)

For those of you who are looking for nude or naked Hooters Girls, sorry. I don’t have any pictures. I don’t even know any women who work there.

I do, however, know where you can get the Playboy: Girls of Hooters or a copy of the Hooters Desert Showdown: 5th Annual Swimsuit Competition (DVD).

Or, for the culinary lovers out there, perhaps you’d rather pick up a copy of the Hooters cookbook (and a Hooters Waitress costume for your girlfriend/wife to wear at dinner)?

You’re welcome.