Yes, the packaging is kinda stupid.

My last two sex toy reviews were, alas, of sub-par products. Too expensive, too loud, too battery-eating, too ridiculous. But at last, with the Bum Buddies Tease My Tush (hereafter referred to as the BB) I think we have a winner!

I gotta say, I was skeptical when the BB arrived at my doorstep. The name, the packaging, the color – none filled me with a sense of confidence. (Not that “confidence” is what a sex toy should fill you with, ifyouknowwhatimean.) But the MSRP, $16-18, isn’t too bad and – unlike some other toys I’ve tested – the front and back oft he packaging note that it’s made of silicone, is phthalate free, can be cleaned with soap and water and/or boiled and/or placed on the top rack of the dishwasher. (My roommates have yet to let me do that last one…)

So while the color and packaging were kinda silly, the actual information on the packaging was reassuring. Imagine that! And the package was easy to open!

The BB feels nice and silicone-y to the touch. You can see the small manufacturing seam running down the middle if you look, but it seems to be pretty well made and I wasn’t worried about it falling apart. Honestly, I was more worried about not feeling a thing, or having it slip out right away. But, thinking happy thoughts, I lubed up and got to work.

Sex toy lineup

The BB slipped right in, with the rounded tip making for easy insertion. The…I dunno, flange? Nub? Rib? Is there a sex toy linguist in the house? The flared bit near the base was also easy to insert, and the wide base (CRUCIAL FOR ANAL TOYS UNLESS YOU WANT TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL) did – as the package promised – “fit comfortably between [my] cheeks.

The BB comes in three sizes, Beginner, Intermediate, and (presumably) XTREEEM. (Or maybe just Large. Or Skilled. Anal Princess, perhaps?) I received a Beginner, the smallest size, and wondered before I began if my tush needed more material in a sex toy for adequate teasing.

Fortunately, my tush WAS adequately teased with the beginner Bum Buddy! I’d love to get my hands on a larger size, but it was actually yummy having a successfully non-slipping toy for use with sex play. Go Bum Buddy!

This review seems pretty short, because I have mostly good things to say. The package is silly, the color isn’t my favorite, but the price and the toy itself were both great. So I’d definitely recommend this toy, for novice and more experience anal players alike. If you know you only like really big things teasing your tush, it probably won’t do much for you. But if, like myself, you’re fine with a smaller tush teasing experience (and for under $20) this toy seems pretty hard to beat.

(Hard to beat. Get it? It’s a masturbation joke. Hard to…oh, nevermind.)

And, of course, if you’re going to purchase this or any other sex toy, go to Early to Bed, provider of this test Bum Buddy, to shop. (Thanks ETB!) Now go have some (safe) fun!

Alas, my experience with the Amante Remote Control Egg wasn’t quite so exciting, but still provided good fun. Read on for the full review!

Pretty, aint it?

Unlike the Luxe Magic Massager, the Amante actually looks like something you might want to put near your genitals. It’s packaged in a nice, easy-to-open box, and comes with adequate instructions for use. Both the remote and the vibrator are pleasant to hold, and the vibrator itself is made of medical grade silicon, meaning it’s easier to clean and safe to use on your fun bits. The remote is molded plastic, nothing too impressive. All in all, my roommate described the set as “the Macbook of vibrators.” And, indeed, it really is a cute little product, not at all scary or intimidating.

The remote has two buttons, one for power and one to change the settings. There are seven settings, including different power levels, pulsations, and riseing-and-falling vibrations – there’s sure to be something you’ll like.

After extensive testing (meaning me and my roommate going to the opposite ends of the hall, holding the vibrator, and yelling “Is it still working?!”) we determined the range when the vibrator isn’t – ahem – inserted into anyone to be about twenty feet. Holding it under an armpit, to get some flesh between the vibrator and the remote, brought the range down closer to 10. Not overwhelming, but certainly enough to use in a public place.

Which brings me to the biggest question I got from friends when explaining my latest toy to review: “Why would you want a remote control vibrator?”

I think the video at the top of this post gives the best-case scenario: a remote control vibrator is intended to allow for public or semi-public sexual activities, ranging from restaurants (perhaps at the “most public” end of the scale) to walking the dog together or sitting on a front porch (at the “least public but still kinda public” end of things). You could even just use it at dinner, in the privacy of your own home, allowing for surprising your partner without embarassing them in public.

It's like the iPod of vibrators

But any of those require a certain kink, either exhibitionism on the part of the vibratee, or voyeurism on the part of the vibrator. For this specific toy, they also require a very specific vaginal anatomy.

See the tail on the vibrator? (The part that made my roommate squeal “It’s like a mouse!” when it vibrated in her hand?) That’s supposed to be left outside the body when the vibrator is inserted, for easy retrieval. Ignoring the fact that it feels like it’ll break (it didn’t, and I think it’s stronger than it seems) it means there’s no real control of where the vibrator goes, or where it vibrates, once it’s inside.

Whether or not you’re interested in exhibitionism or voyeurism, vibrating panties at least allow for centering the vibration over your clit. The partner I tried this with said that it was an interesting sensation while inside of her, but more like a vibrating tampon or weird tickling than anything particularly sexual. (I, on the other hand, must admit I had lots of fun making her jump by using the remote without first alerting her.)

That said, it actually worked alright for me – not having a vagina – by positioning it in my underwear right along my perineum. (That is to say, my taint.) And by “worked alright” I mean it did succeed in turning me on. It’d never get me off, but it was an interesting and fun sensation.

I did, however, put the ‘waterproof’ claim of this toy to a full test. It worked fine inside of my partner (wouldn’t be much use if it didn’t) but also survived a bubble bath with me, suffering no ill effects.

So who is this toy for?

I really want to recommend this toy for everyone. It’s the prettiest sex toy I own, by far, and seems to be the most well designed, too. In fact, the only functional aspect I have to complain about is the included batteries wore down really fast. But it comes with an $85 price tag… Which means if you’re simply looking for a waterproof vibrator, Early to Bed has lots, and for less than $85. Likewise for bullets, including a number of silicone toys. (Which, remember, are safer and easier to clean.) And the Amante isn’t an ideal bath toy because the remote itself isn’t waterproof. (Though I suppose you could put it in a ziplock bag or something, and hope for the best.) And it doesn’t provide ideal stimulation in its intended role, unless you know your vag is really sensitive to vibrations.

So, I ask again, who is this toy for?

This toy is for someone who knows they want an insert-able bullet vibrator that can be remotely controlled by their partner. For that (presumably small) population, the Amante absolutely could not be designed better. (Well, maybe the remote could be waterproof, but that’d probably drive up the price.) Is the Amante worth $85 to that population? I think so. Looking at comparably priced non-remote vibrators, the Amante seems to be in the same ballpark on features, design, and silicone safety. Would I recommend it to friends? No, unless they were sure they wanted it for its intended purpose. If they did, I’d recommend it without hesitation.

Thanks to Early to Bed for  the Amante, and happy sexing!

I bought this one! This one! Mine!

As I mentioned last month, I bought an electric bike shortly after I got out of the hospital. Specifically, a Currie EZip Trailz. (I feel particularly clever because it’s currently $499 at Amazon, but I bought it for a brief period when it was $399.) I haven’t really discussed it much since then, though, so I figured it was time for an actual review.

First, a bit on how electric bikes work. They all have some sort of motor connected to a battery, allowing for extra oomph while biking. The motor is either strapped onto the fame (like my bike) or, for more expensive models, built into the hub of the wheel. The hub motors are better and quieter, but the external motors are cheaper. The battery then goes somewhere on the frame of the bike, in this case attaching to the rear rack. Again, on fancier bikes, the battery is more well-hidden. Depending on the style of the bike, you get power to the motor either automatically, by pedaling, or manually, by a handle-mounted throttle or trigger.

The Trailz is about as low-end of an electric bike as you can find. It’s a steel frame, so it’s super heavy, the battery is less expensive, so it’s heavy, and the motor is mounted rather than hub-based, so it’s heavy. With the battery, the bike weight about 90 pounds. Without, it’s closer to 75. I got the step-through model because, to be totally honest, it’s a bit more girlie. So sue me.

The bike has two modes of operation, which Currie calls “Pedal Assist” (PA) and “Twist and Go” (TAG). Pedal assist means that the motor will automatically kick in when you’re pedaling, to give you an extra bit of power. You can also twist the throttle to get even more power, but by default the motor will help you out a bit. In my experience, PA gets me to about 13 or 14 MPH without much work, which is pretty great. TAG means you don’t have to pedal at all, but I rarely use it because it makes me feel like a complete tool. It’s fun, particularly when showing off the bike to friends, but I like the experience of pedaling a bit.

This is the emotional experience of riding the electric bike.

What I usually end up doing is using pedal assist to get me up as fast as it’ll go, then twist the throttle for maximum speed. I’m going to be a giant dork and say I feel like it gives me afterburners, which is just awesome. It’s particularly fun to pull up next to a (real) biker at a stoplight, and just waste them when the light turns green. Or bike lazily by someone who is clearly working much harder than I am, even though I’m going faster.

Using the pedal and the throttle, I’ve been averaging about 16 MPH, and can hit 20 MPH if I want to really work for it. For comparison, on my real bike, I usually averaged about 14 MPH and was working a hell of a lot harder for those 14 than I do now for the 16.

So what about downsides? Well, the big one has been weight. I intentionally chose an inexpensive entry-level electric bike, and I’m not regretting the purchase. However, next summer or the summer after, I may seriously consider selling this one and upgrading to something with a lighter frame and/or a better (and lighter!) battery. While biking with the motor, you don’t notice the weight. But if you try to bike without the motor, or need to carry the bike at all, the weight becomes kind of ridiculous. It’s like you have this easy, breezy time getting up to 16 MPH with the motor, but then hit a steep incline in difficulty. Not just because you’re trying to go faster, but because you’re suddenly trying to drag the 90 pounds of steel bike and heavy battery with you.

Likewise, the throttle is a little tight. By which I mean it takes too much effort to hold it in place to go – the spring returning it to the neutral position is strong enough that my hand will begin to tense up over the ~6.5 mile ride to work. Possibly a sign I should lay off the friggin’ throttle, but why would I want to do that?!

I do like that the battery is removable, even though it’s friggin’ heavy. That means I can store the bike somewhere – in my garage at home or in the basement storage unit at my office – and still take the battery up to my apartment or my office to charge. The charger is about the size of a laptop power thinger, so is easy to stick in my bike bag and take to and from work. In playing with the bike along the lakefront, I’ve successfully biked 15+ miles on a single charge, but I’m paranoid enough about being stranded at work that I take the charger with anyway. I’m pretty confident the 12 mile round trip would be no problem for the battery, I’m just a cautious gal.

Throttle and battery level

Speaking of the battery, the bike does have a red/yellow/green battery power indicator on the handlebar, which is nice. However, as anyone who has used something with a live battery status indicator can tell you, they aren’t very accurate. (Think about the battery gauge on your laptop.) If you’re cruising along using only a little battery, the indicator will be at green. If you then push the throttle and get a boost, the indicator may drop to yellow. If you go from a complete dead stop and use the throttle to get going (I’m lazy) it may even drop to red. I think I understand why – because it’s telling you the load it’s able to draw, and unlike gas tanks it’s hard to tell how much is “left” of a battery charge – but it’s still a little annoying. I think I’d rather have an analog needle gauge displaying the total charge, even though I know it’d jump around (like the digital lights do) as usage changed. But I’m a big geek who thinks about these things, so I don’t know if that’ll be a practical concern for most people.

So what do I think of my purchase? I (almost universally) love it. I have a few frustrations – namely the weight and the throttle – but nothing huge. I knew about the weight going in, and that’s purely an indication of how much I was willing to pay. But the ability to get to and from work on a bike, without having the full strain of biking, is awesome. And it fit what my original goals were: A) I’m able to raise my heart rate without arriving to work drenched in sweat, and B) Getting to work on the electric bike results in a comparable travel time to driving. On the way up to work, when there wasn’t much traffic, it takes me a bit longer to bike than to drive. But on the way home, during rush-hour, it’s probably just as fast – if not faster – to use the electric bike as it is to drive. I’m also more willing to stop and get groceries or whatnot on the way home, because carrying them is easier and less effort.

The only reason I’m rethinking the purchase is because of my situation with work. This may have not been the best financial decision as I look for another job, but it was definitely a great purchase. Feel free to ask any questions in the comments, but I’ll have to answer them later: I’m about to go bike to work.

The book is divided into 6 chapters, with multiple sub-headings in each chapter. The chapters are:

1. The Social Construction of Biological Fact
2. Self-Definition: Birth through Adolescence
3. Constructing the Self: Options and Challenges
4. Coming Out to Community, Family, and Work
5. Gender Policing
6. Inner Turmoil and Moving Toward Acceptance

There is also an epilogue, “Gender Liberation,” and an appendix with the survey-advertising flier and the survey itself.

As you may be able to guess from the book’s subtitle, “Beyond Women and Men,” and even more so from the chapter titles, I generally agree with the politics of Transgender Voices. Girshick does a solid job of representing a very wide spectrum of people, and (for the most part) she interjects her own thoughts only to provide context or summarize how aggregate groups felt, rather than impose a specific definition of identity or gender.

However, in the introduction, “Identity Boxes,” Girshick lays the groundwork for a view I’m not 100% comfortable with:

My own bias in this book is to advocate for liberation from the binary gender system, which for many people artificially restricts the fullest expression of self. At the same time, though, I deeply respect those who wish to identify with “male” or “female,” “man” or “woman,” and are willing to undergo expensive and painful medical treatments to achieve physical correspondence with who they feel themselves to be given the current gender system.” (Pg 11, Emphasis in original)

She continues by acknowledging that medical/hormonal/surgical transition is a radical act, and one which pushes against the traditional gender binary. At the same time, those italicized words in the above quote seem to imply that people wouldn’t need to undergo medical treatments if the gender system was less restrictive. There is undoubtedly some truth to that, but I think Girshick strays dangerously close to questioning the validity of medical transitions. I agree that “the binary gender system…artificially restricts the fullest expression of self,” but I don’t like how Girshick takes a subtle jab at the validity of binary-gendered identities, when those identities are part of a conscious choice, even as the imposition of binary-gendered identities or behaviors is a problem.

Likewise, I’m not merely “willing” to undergo medical treatments, I need to be on hormones and undergo hair removal and transition. I would continue to do so in the utter absence of any other human life on the face of the planet, because I’m ultimately not doing it for “the current gender system.” Yes, I know: I exist within the current gender system, and a fish can’t see the ocean in which it swims. Nevertheless, Girshick seems too quick to label my choice as a result of the gender system, and not an informed decision based on my own identity. (On the same note, I’m curious why male cross-dressers fall under the transgender umbrella, but female cross-dressers don’t.)

All that said, Girshick’s gender politics did not really detract from my experience of reading Transgender Voices, as it is composed primarily of quotes and summations of the 150 surveys she collected. For example, Gail (MtF) talks about pretending to act male on page 56:

I can play act it, but from the heart I haven’t a clue. So it’s been this great big pantomime or something, you know. Lip-synch. Gender-synch. As far  as I can remember, since I was very young. But yeah it is kind of strange. I can relate sometimes when men are talking but the heart doesn’t make sense.

By far, these quotes were the most valuable part of the book for me, and did a lovely job both of providing insight into people whose experiences differed from mine and giving voice to people whose experiences matched my own. When Girshick quotes people in Transgender Voices, she includes their self-defined gender in parentheses: Leslie (male cross-dresser), Glen (human), NiseyLynn (MtF), AJ (FtM). In this way she does a good job of honoring the identities of her subjects. Here’s another quote, from Lynn (MtF), that resonated with me due to some of my own recent encounters with men (page 125):

My biggest challenge was when I was first approached by a male. All the rules of homophobia came flying back to me and I had to run out of the area to get control of myself.

I also appreciate the chapter structures of Transgender Voices. Each chapter was composed of multiple sub-sections. For example, some of the sections in chapter 1, The Social Construction of Biological Fact, included:

• Influences of Hormones and Brain Development on Gender Identity
• The Made-up Gender Binary
• Perceptions of Others
• Living with the Gender Binary
• ..and quite a few more

Each section was only 3-5 pages, meaning the book was easily consumed in bite-size chunks before bed or while reading on the train; I never felt like picking up Transgender Voices was going to result in a huge time commitment of theory or narrative.

I also appreciated that, in the introduction, Girshick breaks down the various gender identities, sexual orientations, races, and socio-economic backgrounds of her subjects, and acknowledges the problems of a self-selecting bias: 57 of her 150 respondents identifies as MtF, almost double the next highest response rate of 30 for FtM, most of the respondents were white, and so on. But Girshick doesn’t pretend to be offering the definitive exploration of gender identity. She’s simply attempting to provide a better understanding (a better voice, if you will…) to an often neglected part of the LGBT community, and to that end I think she succeeds.

I’ll leave you with a quote from Lessons from the Intersexed by Kesler, pg 124, than Girchick quotes near the end of Transgender Voices:

One can imagine that just as a heterosexual woman today can legitimately claim not to be attracted to men with excessive body hair, in a newly configured system she could claim not to be attracted to men with penises or to be attracted to men with breasts and a vagina. What then would heterosexual mean? In what sense could a woman with a vagina who is sexually gratified by being penetrated by a “woman” with a large clitoris (that looks and functions like a penis) be said to be a lesbian? If gendered bodies fall into disarray, sexual orientation will follow. Defining sexual orientation according to attraction to people with the same or different genitals, as is done now, will no longer make sense, nor will intersexuality. (Emphasis in original)

I was pleasantly surprised to be (mostly) wrong.

The movie is about a married couple, Ben and Anna, whose life is interrupted by Andrew, a college friend of Ben’s who drops in unannounced after not having seen him for many years. Andrew encourages Ben to come out with him and, while at a party, Ben and Andrew learn about an amateur porn festival some of the other party-goers hold every year. They complain that all the good porn ideas must have been taken by now, until they (drunkenly) stumble upon the possibility of two straight men engaging in gay porn. Of course, they both agree to go ahead with it.

The first thing that surprised me about Humpday was the cinematography. It’s shot in a somewhat ‘home movie’ style, with relatively close zooms and a willingness to have oddly-framed shots. The film quality isn’t a home movie, but the general shooting and editing style gives that impression. Coupled with that, I thought the dialogue was pretty realistic, particularly between Ben and his wife, Anna. She was really unhappy about A) Andrew showing up at 1AM and B) her husband agreeing to shoot porn with Andrew, but her unhappiness was presented as being legitimate and not merely shrew-ish. Humpday doesn’t pass the Bechdel Test, but it also doesn’t cast the wife as an emasculating bitch playing against the beleaguered husband/hero.

The “sex commune” from the Netflix description was also a pleasant surprise. It was actually a house (possibly a co-op) with a lot of people who were either in open relationships, somehow polyamorous, or just generally sexual. I was surprised, however, because they weren’t presented as freakish or immoral. Ben was definitely uncomfortable (at least, until he got drunk) but it was because he was outside his comfort zone, not because his hosts were shown as particularly outlandish. I found the scene where Andrew goes to sleep with two women at the party hilarious, because they have dildos in their bed and he freaks out about it. One of them replies, “Why should we get rid of one of our penises just because there’s a new one in the bed?” Amazing. (He ends up leaving, to which they kind of shrug.)

But what about the ‘gay porn’?

Here, too, the movie continues its trend of realistic – and funny – dialogue, with neither of the two men willing to back down or wimp out. When Ben and Andrew finally arrive at the hotel, they decide to just “do it,” but…

Andrew: That’s the tricky thing. It’s the difference between this and bungee jumping, is that bungee jumping, you just walk to the edge and jump…
Ben: …and the whole thing takes care of you…
Andrew: …and you don’t have to have a hard-on to bungee jump.

I won’t ruin whether or not they go through with it, though.

So what didn’t I like about this movie? Well, I wanted someone to say, “Hey! Putzes! You know enjoying anal penetration doesn’t make you gay, right?” As much as this movie ultimately wasn’t about homosexuality, it did further the idea that A) being penetrated is an inherently bad thing for men, B) “real men” can’t like being penetrated, and C) that two men being sexual is icky.

For all that, I do think the movie is worth watching. The interactions between the characters are honest, and it (mostly) doesn’t resort to cheap laughs. But definitely don’t watch it expecting some amazing deconstruction of heterosexuality and homophobia. Cuz this movie aint it.

Good Omens was the first thing I read this past week, It’s a hilarious book about the appocalypse, co-written by Neil Gaiman (of Sandman fame) and Terry Pratchett (of Discworld fame). It really successfully combines Gaiman’s skill at exploring and probing mythic tales with Pratchett’s irreverent humor.

I’m now reading the first book of The Mysterious Benedict Society series. It’s a fun young adult novel about a group of orphans who are recruited by the mysterious Mr. Benedict to help save the world from Ledroptha Curtain. Again, a fun book to read, and one where I know that everything will turn out alright regardless of the characters’ current predicament.

When I’m finish with Benedict, I think I’m going to reread some Heinlein, starting with Time Enough For Love. I fully admit Heinlein swings back and forth between being an advocate of gender equality and a shameless misogynist, but I still really enjoy his books; they take me back to being a teenager, but in a satisfying way somehow.

After that? I’m not sure. I may reread the Clan of the Cave Bear series. Without a doubt, a ridiculous and highly romanticized series, but another set of books I think I’ll enjoy without having to think too much.

How about y’all? What books must I read? What are some of your favorite books, escapist or otherwise?

Of course, I’m not the first or only one to comment on Avatar’s racial dynamic. Sci-fi site io9 says it best:

[Movies like Avatar and District 9] are movies about white guilt. Our main white characters realize that they are complicit in a system which is destroying aliens, AKA people of color – their cultures, their habitats, and their populations. The whites realize this when they begin to assimilate into the “alien” cultures and see things from a new perspective. To purge their overwhelming sense of guilt, they switch sides, become “race traitors,” and fight against their old comrades. But then they go beyond assimilation and become leaders of the people they once oppressed. This is the essence of the white guilt fantasy, laid bare. It’s not just a wish to be absolved of the crimes whites have committed against people of color; it’s not just a wish to join the side of moral justice in battle. It’s a wish to lead people of color from the inside rather than from the (oppressive, white) outside.

Meanwhile, Avatar is yet another story of a male knight in shining armor running to the rescue of oppressed “savages.” Sure, they do much of the work themselves, and there are strong female supporting characters, but the movie is very clear that without Jack, the Na’vi would have been screwed. Likewise, from GlobalShift:

As preferred as the Na’vi culture obviously is, they still need the help of Jake to decide on allowing their women to have any say in marital arrangements. And, given that Neytiri is precise in addressing the final step of a warrior is to choose “his woman,” it becomes abundantly clear the film is likewise heterosexist. Cameron bragging about slapping prosthetic breasts on non-mammal females doesn’t help, either.

To be clear, I’m not trying to pretend I didn’t enjoy the movie. I liked watching it a lot, and would recommend it to anyone looking for an escapist fantasy. (And seeing it in 3D, for which we had to wait another hour past the non-3D showtime we intended to see, was worth it. This is a very pretty movie.) But I do think it’s unfortunate that a movie with such revolutionary technological storytelling power was a rehash of the same white-man-saves-noble-savage trope.

Finally, for some delightful fridge logic, isn’t the ‘victory’ at the end of the movie incredibly hollow? Sure, they kick the humans – “except for a special few” off-planet. But there must be another mining ship on its way, and sooner or later (within about 10 years, if the ~5 year transit time indicated in the movie is accurate) the humans will be back with much heavier firepower.

What, you didn’t think conquering the colonialists actually works, did you?

(Bonus links: Avatar at TVTropes and Cameron saying (paraphrased) “Yeah, it’s Dances with Wolves in space.”)

I just got into the first season of Ugly Betty. The show is – very broadly – about Betty as she tries to make it in the magazine publishing industry. I started watching because I’d heard good things, and because I heard it had a trans character.

Honestly, I enjoyed the show so much that I straight up forgot about the trans character, so her introduction a little more than half way through the first season came as a bit of a surprise. It didn’t hurt that the show very openly parodies (or maybe not) ridiculous soap-opera-ey storyline shifts, so revealing a presumed-dead character was really in hiding to come back as a woman is pretty in line with the tone of the rest of the show.

What did surprise me (or, at least, has surprised me so far) is how respectfully the show handles the trans character, Alexis, even within the wholely silly and over-the-top world of the show.

For example, one of the first conversations around Alexis after her return are between Betty and her father, about the difference between being a transvestite and transsexual (and how he needs to shut up and be respectful). Likewise, Alexis and her brother have a really similar conversation to what I’ve had with my brother: Why didn’t you tell me sooner?! (Admittedly, our conversation was not in bumper cars at the behest of my brother’s assistance after I faked my death two years prior in a skiing accident. Ridiculous and over the top? As TV Tropes says, “Yeah, so?”)

And I was really impressed when Alexis was hit on in a bar and A) clearly didn’t know how to react and B) was then outed and embarrassed in front of the whole bar. (And made to be, without a doubt, the sympathetic character.)

Back to a wider look at the show, I really think it’s a ton of fun. It’s well acted for what it is (if, obviously and intentionally over the top), does a good job of simultaneously poking fun at itself while letting the characters stay invested, and is a great use of an “I’m not going out because I’m exhausted” Saturday night. (Although, for those of you who have seen more than the first season, keep your big mouths shut about any major plot twists! Feel free to say you’re happy or unhappy with the direction of the show, but please don’t tell me any specific information. Please!)

The Droid is awesome at everything except being a phone. I don’t know if I hold it “wrong” (whatever the fuck that would mean), or the sensors suck, or the software sucks, or what. But it consistently hangs up on me, activates the dial pad, locks when I want it unlocked, unlocks when I want it locked, you name it.

If I want to get directions, it’s awesome. If I want to watch YouTube videos, it’s awesome. If I want to look something up online, read blog feeds, play a silly game or an NES game in emulation, text, it’s awesome.

So why does the phone suck so damn much?! I’d have thought someone else would mention this if it was a widespread issue. And I can’t really reproduce the problems…I keep on trying to change how I hold the phone to see  if that helps. Does anyone have any insight into how the hell to use this phone as a phone?

The game is a relatively easy action-adventure-platformer (meaning lots of exploration, lots of jumping puzzles, and while you lose points for dying you have unlimited lives). It goes from Episode I all the way through to Episode VI, broken up by long scrolls of text (in true SW style) and rather amusing cutscenes with the Lego guys filling in pieces of the movies. The cutscenes are actually pretty great, as there’s no voice acting in the whole game so everything is done in pantomime.

The game itself controls pretty easy, although some of the jumping puzzles are a bit frustrating. Likewise, while you can swing the Wii remote to control the lightsabers, it’s really not worth it: pushing A is just so much easier. You get to play each level with default characters (whoever was in that scene from the movie) but can then go back and play with anyone you’ve unlocked (either seen in the game or purchased at the cantina).

This, ultimately, is my undoing.

See, I’m a sucker for unlockables. That is, each level has things that you need to go back and play through again to get – hidden areas, more points, little Lego ships that appear in the main menu, etc. And since the game has such a simple pick-up-and-play style, it’s easy to justify “just one more level.” Likewise, there’s just something fun about using a Star Wars battle droid to lay waste to Jawas.

The game is still a little expensive ($50 new; I bought it for $45 used…) but I’m getting a big kick out of it. The one thing I haven’t had a chance to try is multiplayer, which is likewise supposed to be good fun. If you’re a fan of Star Wars, Legos, or action-adventure (and particularly if you have fond memories of Yoda Stories) at least give Lego Star Wars a rental, if not a purchase.

-R

PS – This has only increased my desire for some of the ridiculous Star Wars Lego kits out there…