MTV’s True Life is looking for someone on an #OrgasmQuest

cropped-shevibesticker.pngI’ve been in touch with the casting director for MTV’s award-winning docu-series “True Life.” They are searching for people for a new episode who cannot achieve orgasm, perhaps due to a medical disorder, either physical, mental, emotional, etc. In short, someone at the start of their own #OrgasmQuest who is willing to share their story with True Life.

Since Quest went viral I’ve had a few TV shows contact me about my story, this is one of the few times I’m being involved because they are handling the subject with the seriousness and respect it deserves. That 18 months later Quest is still on people’s minds even though I’ve been quiet says volumes about how badly people want to have these conversations. I’d be doing this myself, but I’ve made it mostly through my quest and they are looking for someone who is starting theirs. I’m excited.

Could be a young parent who has lost orgasm after birth due to sensation changes or pelvic floor issues, does not have to be someone who is suffering anorgasmia via side effect, all reasons welcome!

Here is the public release: “On this episode of “True Life” we’ll meet a few people (men or women) whose orgasms have impacted their lives in one way or another. Do you have trouble achieving orgasm with or without a sexual partner? Do you have a physical or psychological reason that the “Big O” has become an exhausting topic of conversation? If so, we’d like to talk to you.”

If you are 18 and older, and need to get your orgasms under control, please send an email to and we can take it from there.

Also, please share this with anyone you think fits the description or to your own social networks. There is a deadline on this at the end of the week, so reach out to me asap!

Thank you loves, as I go I will add that my quiet is about to come to an end *again* and posting shall return, for I miss interacting with everyone.


Crista Anne

Twitter Really Cares About My Reaction To Scalia’s Death

Supreme Court Justice Scalia died today, I’m not ashamed that this is thrilling, and right-wing twitter really does not like me.

Which is fine, the feeling is quite mutual.

Overall, I do not wish death upon people. I do not celebrate death. There are a few exceptions to this rule, and Antonin Scalia is one of them. Actually, I am not thrilled that he is dead, I am thrilled that he no longer wields great power. Great power used to harm, restrict rights and promote horrific bigotry. As being on the Supreme Court is a lifetime job, that means retirement or death. He died in his sleep and I am glad he is gone. Thus, I tweeted.

Read through the responses at your own risk. I rarely feed the trolls, but today I’m still mostly on bed rest and have a fair amount of anger that needed an outlet. None of that bullshit got to me, I was laughing most of the time.

Here is the deal: I’m a queer, poly, liberal, woman who has needed and received abortive care. Scalia was on the bench since I was four years old, a consistently disgusting monster who through his writings made it clear that he loathed who and what I am. Viewed me as a second class citizen at best. A monster with extreme power. Now he is gone and as hard as right-wing twitter has tried, you cannot and will not shame me into feeling sadness.

I feel empathy for those who loved him. For his wife and children. Look, my Dad died eleven years ago. My Dad, who I love and miss, was kind of a shitbag. There are plenty of people who are glad he’s dead and I do not begrudge them that. I’ve harmed people in my life and I’m sure they will be happy when I die. Lots of people told me about how thrilled they will be today alone! Rock on. I’ll be dead and thus will not care how the fuck people react.

“Don’t speak ill of the dead”

NOPE. Nope. Nope. Nope.

I want nothing to do with the making of the mythology of this person. Towards the end of his life/career, he seemed to slide completely into professional troll. Professional trolls are bad enough on their own, professional trolls on the fucking supreme court? I’ve read more than enough of his opinions to feel his loathing for people like me, people like my family, people who are my friends and loves. Plenty of words are being written on his record and life, that’s not what I’m doing here.

What I’m doing here is saying that right now his dead body in Texas has more rights than those of a pregnant person in that state. Abortion rights are about to hit the Supreme Court and I am crying tears of joy that he will not be on the bench for that. Shamelessly.

A whole mess of folks have named me the face and the voice of liberalism on twitter today, so I shall inform you all that as your Queen and Liberal Ruler, you may address me as Her Royal Pinkness. Beware the tyranny of my oppressive socialism and rainbows. The Tyranny of Glitter Everywhere.

Behold - Her Royal Pinkness

Behold – Her Royal Pinkness – Your Liberal Queen

Obviously, I speak for myself and myself alone. 

I choose to have fun with folks who were calling me the face of liberalism when it suited them. I’m a white cis woman, my voice should not be the loudest any longer. Hopefully my sarcasm here was noted by those whose opinions I care about.

Now, back to the amusement on twitter…

shevibestickerYou don’t like what I have to say? Don’t like that I dare speak ill of the dead? 

Don’t fucking read my words then.

I’m not for everyone, that’s fine. I’ve no interest in being palatable to everyone. Feel free to continue to tell me how horrible I am. The fucks I give continue to stay at zero and the moment that I get bored, I’ll go back to ignoring the trolls. For now though? Thanks for the amusement. Thanks for the hate views to my site. Thanks for keeping me distracted from the pain I’ve been in recently. I actually do appreciate that.

Hello and welcome to the new folks who RT’d me for positive reasons. Hopefully the rest of what I have to say resonates as well. If not, I wish you well. 

Scalia. Was. Toxic.

Thanks to @femsplain for this graphic

Thanks to @femsplain for this graphic

Finally: If you were one of the way too many people who took the time to fill my mentions with hatred, slurs, threats and other bullshit – expect an invoice from me in the near future. See, my time has monetary value and all of you are proud capitalists so I expect you to understand this. Reading your intrusive tweet is $5, Abusive tweets are $10 and Threats or Slurs will cost you $20. 

-Anne Lamott

-Anne Lamott

Life in Less Limbo

Y’all, it has been a week.

I’ve updated here and there as things have progressed, but it’s nice to put it all together so I can link instead of re-telling the story. As I said in my Surviving Life in Limbo… post, I’ve had a lot of concerning health issues pop up suddenly. Upside, they are rearing their ugly heads just as I finally have comprehensive health insurance. Bless my glorious marriage. Finally, I have progress and an update:


YAY!! CT Scan showed that my bladder is really unhappy but no signs of cancer. That and other tests have ruled cancer out. Que thrilled excitement.


Got this glorious news, made a bad-fucking-ass pot roast, and finally relaxed for a few hours. Watched MSNBC to hear my fantasy girlfriend Rachel Maddow talk about how Bernie Sanders won New Hampshire, and at commercial break, made the mistake of trying to pee.

Que mindbending pain. Acute, astonishing, stabbing, horrific pain shooting through my pelvis. On the only pain scale I consider to be legitimate, I was in “I am actively being mauled by a bear” that was living in my bladder.

This is the only pain chart that I consider to be legit. Thank you Hyperbole and a Half

This is the only pain chart that I consider to be legit. Thank you Hyperbole and a Half

Laid face down on our bed, one eye watching The Donald give a victory speech, which was not helping my pain levels at all, for most of the rest of the evening while fearing emptying my bladder ever again. Rachel Maddow kept making me laugh, which would also cause a pain spike. My emergency painkiller wasn’t doing anything and by morning I was looking for childcare so we could get me to the ER. I was biting and yelling into a towel, fearing any liquid. Okay, great, no cancer, but I feel like I’m dying. Thankfully, my Doctor found space to see me, because I loathe the ER. Would rather remove body parts in my bathroom than go through that bullshit.

I do not cry in public. It’s a thing. Have trouble letting my guard down enough to cry most of the time. I cried the whole way through the visit. No infection, nothing glaring on my CT scan, the best educated guess is Interstitial cystitis. That needs to be verified by a urologist, who I’ll be seeing asap. Interestingly, one of the treatments for interstitial cystitis is amitriptyline. The cause of my anorgasmia, #OrgasmQuest and a medication I stopped talking six weeks ago in favor of other medications that were previously beyond my financial means.

So, I’m back on amitriptyline. Last year when Quest started, this was the wonder drug for my depression, but as The Madness overtook our life and I hit one of the worst depressive episodes of my life, it stopped helping. Wellbutrin has been a better match for my depressive symptoms, with the added bonus of the return of my sex drive. When I get out of the acute pain, it will be interesting to see how both of those medications affect my sexuality. #OrgasmQuest is certainly not over.

First, I have to get out of this acute pain. I’m on mostly bed rest with pain management medication for the next few days. Friends and family are helping out and V has been amazing. I’ve spent most of the last two weeks curled around him in either pain or worry. They’ve been perfection in soothing my fears and taking care of my needs. I’m more comfortable in the caretaker role, much less as the patient, but they are keeping me from doing too much.


Really sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Progress though. At least it isn’t cancer, “just” probably another chronic pain condition that has no cure or great treatment plan. Yaaaayyyyy. *eye roll* So, that’s where I am. My body says I need to lie back down and pay more attention to the Democratic debate.

Thank you for all the love and good wishes. They mean the world to me. <3

A Less Than Friendly Reminder That You Don’t Know Me.

The fierce Ella Dawson, someone who I am truly honored to call a friend, wrote an excellent piece entitled “A Friendly Reminder That You Don’t Know Me” on her site documenting some harassment she was subjected to this weekend. With her permission I’m posting an excerpt here, but I implore you to go read her full post, then return here. (I know I’m asking a lot.)

I am a woman who talks about her vagina on the Internet and that gives strange men the mistaken impression that they know me. They don’t. I sustain a steady stream of snarky observations on Twitter and that gives strange men the mistaken impression that I want to hear from them. I don’t. I post a lot of selfies and that gives strange men the impression that I am asking for their praise. I’m not. A woman doing her own thing on the Internet is like a woman doing her own thing at a bar: sometimes she wants to chat with strangers, but that “sometimes” is rarely, if ever, and probably not at all.

Read the rest here…

Are you back?


I’ve often called myself a “Professional Oversharer” with my tongue firmly in cheek. My comfort level with sharing parts of my life that many consider “private” is a huge reason most of you continue to read my work. Starting conversations with the goal of de-stigmatizing sexuality, masturbation, life with mental illness, my evangelical love of sex toys – this fills me with joy. As I am comfortable sharing these things, I’m thrilled to “give permission” to others to also share. Empathy, education and connecting via shared life experience is one of the beautiful things about life online.

However, my social media presence, my writing, the work I do – I am only showing you snippets of who I am. While I strive to be my authentic self across platforms, most of my life continues to be very private. You cannot accurately know the entirety of my personhood from what I post online alone.

This is a sore subject with me as folks have tried to “diagnose” me via my social media. This has happened occasionally over the years but picked up frequency when #OrgasmQuest went viral. “Sex Addict”, “Attention whore”, “Narcissistic Personality Disorder” – just a couple of the diagnosis or labels forced on me by “experts”. It’s infuriating and there really isn’t a way to push back against that.

Then we move into the harassment that Ella highlights in her piece.

I’ve been a woman who has openly written and spoken about her empowered sexuality online since before the term “blog” existed. When I’m writing frequently my twitter mentions are a horror show of unwanted sexual advances. My “Message Requests” folder on Facebook? Scrolling through that is like running a through a gauntlet of dick pics and tales how these dude’s magical dicks will forever cure my anorgasmia. Oh, the endless tales of their magical dicks.

When I had an OkCupid profile that straight folks could see, I’d open my messages to find full-blown erotica written about dudes sexual fantasies about me. Someone once sent me a picture showcasing how he had printed out one of my selfies and jerked off onto my face.


No really, Fuck you.

No really, Fuck you.

I no longer reply to unwanted sexual advances, I go straight to blocking. Why? Because back in the day when I would politely decline or state that the advances made me uncomfortable there would be that “wonderful” 180 into insults and threats. 30 seconds ago you wanted to fuck me, now you’re telling me how you hope I get raped or killed. Once that became an obvious pattern, I made the change to swift blocking for my mental health.

The prolonged exposure to these unwanted advances has had other consequences for me.

Last night I had a profoundly sad realization. Once upon a time, I loved to “sext”. Loved erotic messages between myself and my lover(s). They were pleasurable fantasies that built passion between times together. It was a wonderful and treasured part of my sexuality.

That is gone.

Explicit sexual messages in text form, even from people I am deeply sexually attracted to or have an established intimate relationship with, make me wildly uncomfortable. My guard instantly goes up. Instantly defensive. I’ve tried to push through the discomfort with trusted loves but to this point I’ve been unsuccessful.

To be honest, I feel robbed of something special. I feel disappointed when I need to explain this, especially as most of the people I love are long distance. Where such communication would deepen our connection. Anything past playful flirtation and my walls go up. I’m going to keep trying to reclaim my comfort here, but I know that progress will be slow.

What I want folks to understand from this post…

Connecting, sharing, interacting with people across the internet is still something that I love. Something that I want to continue to do for the rest of my days. What I want everyone to understand though is that unless we get to close friends – you don’t actually know me. You may think you do, but my experience has been that the person you think I am is far more a projection of who you want me to be than my actual self.

You see snippets of who I am and those snippets are authentic. These authentic snippets are not the full picture of who I am. There are very, very few people who I can honestly say know me well. As much as I do love to connect via shared experience, very much of myself is private and not for public consumption.

Being an openly sexual person, a pleasure revolutionary, an activist passionate about a wide array of topics about sexuality does not mean I owe you anything. I do not owe you selfies. I do not owe you nudes. I do not owe you the time or mental space to deal with unwanted sexual advances. I do not owe you answers about my life beyond what I share. Allow me to repeat I do not owe you anything.

If you are friendly, respectful, and treat me like a human being in online interactions there is a very high chance that I will respond in kind. There is a very good chance that we’ll form a friendly relationship. I love people. I do not love being treated like an object that exists solely for someone’s sexual fantasy. There are people who do enjoy that, please direct your attention to them and respect my boundaries.

Thank You.