Guttersnipe: Music, Movies, Comics, Books, Fashion

The Taboo Naughty But Nice Sex Show arrived once again to remind us there are other things in life besides the latest Sufjan Stevens album. Kate Reid, recovering from her evening of Victoria nouveau hippiedom (see Jon & Roy review) a couple nights before, shares.

-Kate Reid, 18/01/09, Vancouver (Photos: Liz Stanton)

The Taboo Naughty But Nice sex show is your ticket to finely-crafted erotic cakes, bouncing dildo strap-ons and hanging clitoral jewelry. The annual tradeshow is a fun way to gratify (or discover) your inner kink without getting weirded out in the Granville sex shop tradition. If you have a predilection (I think I saw a vibrating version of that), Taboo has a product or position for you. Here are some highlights from the show and some choice items for your bedroom or dungeon.

Choosing the right prosthetic pussy is never easy, so allow me to suggest the Ayana Angel-endorsed “Pussy & Ass”—because like my mom always says during our family’s Tortilla Tuesday dinners, “Never settle for a plain taco when you can add some guacamole.” The packaging says it’s a “genuine cast of Ayana Angel… detailed down to every luscious curve and fold.” If sticking your thingy into a plastic facsimile of a porn star’s hooha isn’t doing it for you, maybe you’re just not into plastic vaginas, in which case I feel very sorry for the sad life you must lead.

Order before midnight tonight...

If contracting syphilis in public is your thing, head on over to the tattoo booth and get that sleeve you always wanted, or better yet, head to Wild Rose Tattoo Shirts and pull some tattoo-adorned pantyhose over your arms instead, cause there’s nothing sexier than a body sheathed in nylon. Except for maybe a full-body condom.

The Candy Girl Cabaret is Vancouver’s version of the Pussycat Dolls, which is all well and good, but the titillating twenty-minute stage show was rudely interrupted by a vertically-challenged male performer who kept butting in with casino-style crooning. While I’m all for little people love, this guy was no Peter Dinklage—he was too tall and too cheesy for such a glowing comparison, plus I doubt Dinklage would strip on stage (unless Tina Fey made a personal request—don’t pretend you didn’t notice the chemistry during the 30 Rock episode). The point is, when I wanna watch some talented ladies straddle some chairs, I don’t want this dude’s theatrical eyebrow raises distracting from the fishnets. Way to dry up my girl shorts, buddy.

One way to keep my garden watered would be to acquire the Ultimate Clit Caresser, a bit of dangly jewelry you attach to your girly bits that acts like a tuning fork. When the bead strands swing together, you feel a yayness in your happy place. The girl selling these gems recommended wearing them under your clothes as you go about your day. Perhaps this can up the morale at my grandma’s women-only retirement home. If not, it’ll at least boost the satisfaction I’ll feel after volunteering.

Come back and see us again soon!