5 Gross Products For Your Nether Hygiene
In this day and age when crotches of all shapes and sizes can be summoned onscreen with a simple tap of your finger, we've learned from the pros that everyone needs to take a few moments to groom their nethers every once in a while. As such, there's an ample number of products for preventing your private parts from descending into a marsh-like state of moisture, sadness, and the occasional alligator. And, as is the case with every market, some of those products are something so far removed from sanity, it's like the manufacturers just came up with the stupidest idea they could and then expected people to slather it all over their balls.
Oh, hold on. That's exactly what they did.
Vaginal Detox Herbs
If I know our readership at all, roughly 98 percent of you are joining me right now in a big, fat internal "Nope!" scream at the mere sight of that header (the other 2 percent are resignedly unzipping their pants and reaching for the spice rack). Alas, the universe cares not for our woes: Herb balls for vaginal detoxing are very much a thing, and one peddled by a company called fucking Embrace Pangaea, to boot.
"I know we've talked about spicing up our sex life, but this is absolutely ridiculous."
Let us for a fleeting moment put aside the fact that we live in a world where five seconds on Google will reveal that the very concept of "detoxing" is dubious at best. Instead, let's focus on what the product claims it can do: For bargain basement prices ranging from $30 to freaking $480, these "herbal womb detox pearls" promise to "cleanse the womb and return it to default state." From ... from what? When is the womb not in its default state? Was the womb secretly shooting heroin? Did something out of the ordinary -- say, a baby -- creep in, and the detox pearls are a strange holistic method to induce labor, aiming to make the kid pack its bags by acting like a pesky neighbor that keeps smoking salvia?
To be fair, I don't have the gynecological expertise to thoroughly debunk this product. Luckily, here's Dr. Jen Gunter, who very much has said expertise, thoroughly word-pooping over the very concept of herb-detoxing your nethers. She gloriously likens the vagina and the uterus to a self-cleaning oven that can generally do just fine by itself, and definitely hasn't misplaced any chakras that an enterprising herb bullshit company might be able to help it locate. In fact, stuffing a bag full of random "holistic" dried-up crap up your, uh, yoni will probably just increase the likelihood of bad bacteria growing and causing infection.
Pubic Hair Oil
Personal story time: I've had a beard of varying lengths and shapes for the last decade or so. Because of that and the fact that my skin type is "Sahara during a drought," I've had to learn to dabble with beard oil to offset the dry, itching hellscape my face is all too liable to become. Incidentally, I've also learned to hate beard oil with the wrath of seven hells. There is no correct amount of beard oil. You either use too little and rub your face with the equivalent of a wet fart, or use too much and have everything that touches your face for the next few hours gain a greasy sheen. Everything smells like lavender, whether that was the scent advertised or not, and that shit will get old in a hurry.
Fur Oil is that, but for your crotch.
You just know that someone, somewhere has been clawed to death for
misunderstanding the "oil your pussy" advice they were given.
Oil for your pubic hair.
Oil. For your. Pubic hair.
You can feel it at the back of your mind right now, can't you? The uncomfortable oil slick slowly seeping through the chaste cotton underwear I generously assume you're wearing, or uncomfortably greasing things up in the studded leather thong we all know you're actually wearing, Steve. Awful, no? Sure, the product description talks a big game about the lightness of the oil, and the curiously positive, almost shill-like Amazon reviews throws praise upon its pleasant scent, but they forget the two important things I described in the above beard oil analogy: The inherent inability of a human being to apply a "correct amount" of anything, and the fact that even the most pleasant scented oil will turn into ass and taint sweat once your nostrils get used to it and start getting annoyed by it, especially when the scent is located in fairly close proximity to ass and taint sweat to start with. Don't oil your crotch, folks. Your crotch is perfectly capable of funking itself up without you actively helping it.
Semen Volume Enhancers
Semen is reasonably essential in the whole makin' babies part of the sexperience, but when it comes to recreational use of genitalia, it's mostly a goddamned nuisance. Imagine an athlete scoring a touchdown and, instead of the rest of the team joining him in celebration, a lone linebacker walks up to him and solemnly presents him with a small amount of herring paste. That's semen: An exhilarating activity culminating in a worthy climax, and then you're left with a spoonful of funky goop.
At least, that's one way of looking at it. There's another, very different one, which is: "HOLY SHIT SEMEN IS THE BEST I MUST HAVE MORE MORE MORE BROOOOOO." Which I suppose would be perfect for whoever the fuck buys semen volume enhancers.
With product names like Monster Xplosion and Ball Refill, I'm guessing especially the "bro" part applies here as well.
Ejaculate volume is a largely individual thing that depends on a whole host of factors, and it's not what you'd call a much-researched subject, presumably because shockingly few scientists are willing to risk living the rest of their lives with the nickname "Doc Money Shot." When you actually find something peer-reviewed, it tends to contain enough "may be," "may occur," and "however" to confuse an entire colony of cock-worriers. The Amazon reviews of the volumizer pills -- which also supposedly improve your orgasms, because why the hell not -- tend to follow the same trend: The overwhelming majority of them are either fairly transparent five-star shills, or one-star reviews that point out certain ... shortcomings with these no doubt super scientific boner hose pills.
"The foreplay is pain, and we brought plenty for everyone!"
If you can't read those, they all say the same thing: 1) Doesn't work -- 2) It actually caused me motherfucking pain.
In fact, let's ignore the above, reasonably compelling arguments to steer the fuck clear of these things for a moment. Because, even if we assume they work super fine, who exactly buys these products? Is ... is this a pissing contest thing? Does some strange nook of the world host a sperm fight club of some sort, where fraternity types play Jerkoff Javelin in the woods and carefully avoid eye contact when they fist-bump afterwards? Nah. There's no way anyone's that stupid. It's not like there are people in the world who get so sensitive about the volume and pressure of their ejaculate that they'd actually use these products, let alone admit it to the worl-
"HER EYE. ALMOST SHOT IT OUT. BROOOOOOOOO."
... oh, right. I keep forgetting the elusive "asshole" demographic.
Coffee Baths For Your Genitals
10 out of 10 coffee enthusiasts agree that although it's an excellent beverage, mentioning it in the same sentence with your genitalia is mostly good for internal screaming and a full-body cringe. And then, just as the survey is wrapping up, the door opens and an 11th person slides in Cosmo Kramer-style, wearing his underpants on his head and screeching: "YES COFFEE GOOD COFFEE SOAK YOUR DONG IN COFFEE YESSSSSS."
The above situation may or may not be slightly made up, but really, it's the only scenario I can imagine to have led to the birth of coffee implants for the vagina and/or penis.
"Can I at least get it out of the espresso maker first?" "No."
If you for whatever reason disregard your sanity enough to click those links and study the subject matter, you'll find that while the madness deity behind the system has definitely decided its preferred method of mayhem (caffeinated crotches!), it sure enjoys playing with variations of the theme. The dong version of the treatment is basically "Wrap your dick in a coffee-soaked rag or just dip it in the cup LOOOOOLLLL." Meanwhile, even though women's coffee implants are essentially coffee-soaked DIY rag tampons that you leave in for an indeterminate amount of time ("No adverse effects so far!"), their manufacture is lovingly described, down to suggestions on how to best cool the saucepan (this coffee is made on a saucepan for some reason) and the benefits of adding ozonated water. A special mention goes to the pointer that some of the (no doubt millions of) users find the treatment most effective when combined with a coffee enema, leading me to suspect that the creator of the system has a very specific fetish that has gotten them banned from Starbucks for life.
"That's right; put the third one in your mouth. Yeah, that's the stuff."
So, what good does slathering coffee all over your fun parts supposedly do? Oh, you know, the usual. Apart from the alleged homeopathic and energy-moving benefits you'd expect, coffee implants are claimed to help with infections, ovary issues, infertility, and ... the "ability to retrace old relationships and let them go more completely"? "Help with future relationships"? Improved self esteem? Holy crap, this treatment might be bullshit, but they certainly know how to market it. Awful as it is, the comedian part of me almost hopes that the dude version of this thing would go viral in a "trendy new kooky behavior for powerful people" kind of way. That way, when Business Insider and its ilk stink up the internet with their "You won't believe what these successful people do and you don't" yuppie clickbait, they'd at least feature dudes in suits at the water cooler, nonchalantly stirring their coffees with their dongs.
Vaginal Jade Eggs And Healing Crystal Dildos
For every Cracked writer who dabbles in celebrity and/or sex related stories, Gwyneth Paltrow is something of a ... what's the opposite of a matron saint? No matter the premise, at some point she's going to be there with her opinions or her Goop.com crap.
I've been subjected to the Paltrow before, and am not keen to be again, but you know what? Fuck it. I've got a job to do, and today, part of that job is discussing Gwyneth-endorsed $66 vaginal jade eggs. There is no comedy routine in the world that can deliver what this thing is supposed to do better than the product's official Goop.com description does. (For the record, I have no idea nor inclination to find out who "Shiva Rose" is, but it sounds like a dog's name. I'm forced to assume that this product was invented when a shih tzu accidentally sat on a pebble once, and a nearby Goop yoga camp immediately went apeshit.)
As much as I'd like to get overly snarky about an over-expensive stone you're supposed to shove in your vagina for what essentially amounts to "like, positive vibes," I'll instead quote Dr. Jen Gunter, the OB-GYN from a few entries ago who seems to share my righteous beef with products like these:
"I would like to point out that jade is porous which could allow bacteria to get inside and so the egg could act like a fomite. This is not good, in case you were wondering. It could be a risk factor for bacterial vaginosis or even the potentially deadly toxic shock syndrome. Regarding the suggestion to wear the jade egg while walking around, well, I would like to point out that your pelvic floor muscles are not meant to contract continuously. In fact, it is quite difficult to isolate your pelvic floor while walking so many women could actually clench other muscles to keep the egg inside. It is possible the pained expression of clenching your butt all day could be what is leading people to stare, not some energy glow."
"You've made a powerful enemy today, Dr. Gunter."
That, obligatory person who has purchased this product and is reading this article after googling "why does my Jade Vaginal Stone feel weird," was a professional telling you that not only doesn't your yoni-cleansing horseshit rock not work as advertised -- it's downright detrimental to your health. Not that it ever stopped people inclined to believe this kind of thing -- somehow, the jade egg has actually sold out. See if you can spot the painfully crab-walking New Age-oriented coworker who bought one!
Still, not even Her Goopness will pretend that shoving glorified rocks all up your equipment is a pleasant experience. After all, that particular lunacy market is cornered by Chakrubs.
Yeah, that's really their name.
Yes, someone out there decided to carve "healing crystals" into straight-up dildos, and yes, they advertise them with all the words you know and love from regular crystal horseshittery: Doing it with one of these totally in no way super cold and stony contraptions will, among other things, "create harmony in mind, body, and spirit," "remove blocks caused by sexual trauma," "encourage self-awareness and mindfulness," and "set the tone for you to create your own intentions of wellness."
Though, to be fair, I actually buy that encouraging self-awareness part. Once you've voluntarily fucked a $114 rock, chances are you're going to know a whole lot more about yourself than you'd like to.
Pauli Poisuo is a Cracked columnist and freelance editor. Here he is on Facebook and Twitter.
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