Taking a page right out of John Cameron-Mitchell's Shortbus, a perverted denizen of our fine city named Dave has been making very public confessions of peeping-tomfoolery through YouTube.

Normally, this would have everyone thinking "stalker" and issuing a volley of condemnations but it's difficult to feel threatened by a new-age twink who quotes Deepak Chopra and talks about negativity and finding one's self.

I have a weird relationship with porn and it's not about guilt.

Theoretically, I appreciate the utilitarian nature of the genre. It's meant to get you off and whether you like watching fat chicks crush things or "some black dude" outrage imagined fathers across America (both links NSFW) the industry has you covered.

Unfortunately, as with most things in life, the goods are odd and the chances of finding porn worth watching are few and far between. I can't count the number of times I've clicked on some clip out of prurient curiousity only to be confronted with the polar opposite of what I consider to be hot.

Sculpted twenty-somethings pretending to be horny teens doesn't cut it for me. I'm not asking for a Baby Blue-style scripts but I don't think it's too much to want flicks featuring people who really wanna fuck each other. While Sasha over at Eye usually has some great suggestions when it comes to good porn, I'm not what you would label an avid consumer.

It was with all of this in mind that I attended a "red carpet event" featuring Maxine X (NSFW), a Canadian porn star, and friends at Vogue Room, one of those dime-a-dozen lounges dotting the College St. West landscape.

I didn't know what to expect. I didn't think I'd know anyone who would attend and the idea of porn stars meeting their fans brought to mind a more well-heeled version of a Girls Gone Wild shoot than an industry schmoozefest.

In the end, it ended up being a little bit of both. It was also Maxine's birthday.

(Warning: NSFW photos under the cut!)

Four years ago, I went to the Everything To Do With Sex Show and it was quite the informative experience. Even though I was twenty-one, I knew next to nothing about sex toys and going to an event full of 'em was an eye-opener for a guy who had recently left a religious college in the Midwest. I even got to take a picture with a porn star (see above).

Going back last week, I came in with half-remembered memories and not a whole lot of expectations but I knew one thing; I definitely needed a drink to help me process the ordeal. In the midst of a raucous environment that simultaneously recalls a Vegas-style event blended with scenes right out of a bazaar in Marrakech, a beer would be just the thing.

With a cold one grasped firmly in hand, all the scantily-clad girls hawking contraptions guaranteed to increase your sexual pleasure become mere background noise; a subtle cadence to a tumultuous cacophony of cheap debaucheries and bizarre commercial tangents.

If you're into this sort of thing, and I am, it's rather fun and you'll wander the various pathways, up for whatever the next booth will bring. If you're more of a cynic, you'd be inclined to think that all of this crass commercialism is obscuring any message that might be gleaned by couples who could possibly improve their relationships or their sexual worldview in general.

Here's a recipe for a quick and easy art show:

Take a slightly-naughty theme, gather a bunch of submissions that kind of relate, you know, in an ironic way and secure a venue where you can play the music loudly and serve the booze cheaply.

Hopefully the venue will come with a crowd of pretty young exhibitionists and, of course, all of your friends will show up so everyone should have a pretty good time. Big Dicks and Barbie Dolls, a recent show at Spin Gallery, was a terrific party but what about the art?

Sexuality and pop culture have always been favored topics of the artist and in my time at OCAD, I saw a lot of bad art and even some good stuff exploring that theme. This show is no different. Some of it was alright but a lot of it was, in the words of a participant who wishes to remain anonymous, "juvenile" and I would have to agree.

As usual, illustrations ruled the show, at least technically if not conceptually. The rampaging cock creature was cool and detailed enough to be visually stimulating if nothing else but was also emblematic of what was wrong with the show as a whole.

An event that truly raises the bar for dialog about sex is a rare and beautiful thing and seen even less in Toronto, a city that is still sometime seems like its coming to grips with it's Scottish Protestant roots.

One venue that consistently challenges the status quo is Goodhandy's Nightclub; located on Church Street. It's run by Mandy Goodhandy (aka Amanda Taylor) and Todd Klinck, both of whom have a background in club promotion and the production of adult videos.

A favorite topic for media organizations on
slow news days, and only slightly less popular than the national obsession with comparing ourselves to America, is Toronto's love-hate relationship with the rest of the country.

It doesn't have to be this way.

While their families can replay all kinds of urban nightmares brought to them courtesy of CTV Globemedia, the best thing we can do to overcome this provincial gap is by hooking up with some of those girls and boys. Not just for people with a larger-than-life reputation or a hectic traveling schedule, getting together with that special someone outside the GTA can be all kinds of fun.

But wait, I can already hear people saying; why live in a city where you don't date the locals? I counter that I'm not advocating replacing our pool of single urbanites with out-of-towners; I'm talking about supplementing a familiar flavor with something new and interesting.