Category Archives: sex

Brains, rumps, and MYSTERIES in SPACE: must be science day!

Yet again, it is late and I spent a lot of the night doing THINGS. I really need a course in time management or something. Or someone to sit in my living room and say, “STOP EFFING AROUND ON THE INTERNET AND DO YOUR STUFF, YO!” Like a little gym trainer, only for internet usage. Or a little drill sergeant. “DROP AND GIMME TWENTY SOLDIER!!!”



Some of what I had to do was blog-related. Some was not. I had to play with the phone a little. It needed some apps on it. Like Pandora. Why didn’t you people tell me about how amazing Pandora is? I had it for like 4 seconds on The Phone With No Memory (which is how I will now refer to the Droid, may it rest in peace, it has since been donated to the battered women’s shelter) and then it sucked up all the memory so I couldn’t keep it. I now have all the stations and it already played a song that made me weep and weep and have a stomachache of memories, so PROBABLY that should make me hate it, but I don’t. I love it for being psychic. THANK YOU PANDORA!

Anyway, TODAY, we are talking about SCIENCE. Because often we don’t talk about it enough. And I feel this means we are underutilizing our Science Fellow. I mean, how often does a blog have a Science Fellow? And then not to use him enough? It’s a shame, really. (Not to mention, we have the BEST Science Fellow, who is also one of my absolute favorite human beings in this entire world. And there are a lot of people in the world. I just Googled it. About 7 billion people. I only have about, oh, let’s say, ten-ish favorite people? Maybe twelve, if I’m being totally gracious. I mean, I haven’t met ALL the people – and I don’t want to, honestly, people make me itchy – but to be one of 10 or 12 out of seven billion people is pretty damn good, yo. That’s just how awesome our Andreas is.)

So today we’re talking about the following:

  • Brains and the relative size thereof;
  • Sexy bird rump-shakery; and
  • Intergalactic flora.

All of these things, I’m sure, our Science Fellow will like to talk to us about. I feel like he should live closer. He could sit here and correct me as I write these things. Also maybe fix my heater, it’s being weird. Andreas, can you fix my heater? It’s being weird.

First! BRAINSSSSS! (Calm down, zombies, not for you.)

According to this article, big brains cost us a LOT. So really, it’s all about either being a dummy and having all the things or being a smartie and having to settle, I suppose. Grumble.



See, the bigger the brain, relatively, the more energy it needs. This takes energy away from other things, like reproduction. So, by experimenting on guppies (which are VERY much like humans, what with the gills and the swimming and the scales and all) they saw that the brainier guppies had fewer babies. I guess this is a problem if you’re a guppy, because they want to have all the babies. But isn’t there an overpopulation problem with humans? I don’t think we need to be having all the babies, even if we are the smartest. Maybe us smarties don’t WANT to have all the babies. Maybe we’re SELECTIVE about our baby-making. I feel like this is an indictment about smart people.

Then this article went on to say that the small family size may LEAD to large brains. Which I don’t know about. Do they mean that children from smaller families tend to have larger brains? Because they get more one-on-one time? I’m not really sure. I guess if that’s what they’re saying, I’m behind that. What do you think, Andreas, is that what they’re saying? This is not the best-written article, and I almost feel like it was translated from another language at times.

So I guess you can be dumb and have all the kids (and I’d like to say that maybe you’d be happier; I don’t know too many intelligent happy people, to be honest, because we tend to overthink) and be smart and have…less kids? I don’t know about this article at all. I know some smart people with large families. I know some not-so-smart people with small families. This is all very odd to me. Andreas, your turn, what the hell?

For example,if you have one of these...well, I'd wonder about your brain-size. (I like the zombie version of this, though.)

For example,if you have one of these…well, I’d wonder about your brain-size. (I like the zombie version of this, though.)


So apparently some birds woo each other with sexy rump-shakery. I like that. I like that some birds totally shake a tailfeather. And then that’s how they get the ladies.

Apparently, even DINOSAUR BIRDS used to rump-shake. You GUYS! Dinosaur birds!

Here is an oviraptor. Who knows if this is what they really looked like but dude, this tailfeather-thingy makes me laugh SO HARD. It looks like a dragonfly is attached to his tail-area. This dino-bird has all the bling.

So apparently oviraptors (which reminds me of those evil velociraptors from Jurassic Park that stalked those kids in the kitchen and that freaked my shit OUT, yo) used to dance for their lady-friends. To show their interest and such. How do scientists know this? I have no idea. I just think it’s kind of awesome.

Now, I am sad that men TODAY don’t dance to try to woo us. Just birds. What’s comparable to sexy bird rump-shakery in our menfolks today? Taking us out to dinner, I guess? SIGH NOT THE SAME. My version of sexy rump-shakery would be to…um…woo me with well-written emails. Write me something spectacular. Use grammar and puctuation well. Make me effing LAUGH. That’s my sexy rump-shakery right there. Someone else’s might be, oh, I don’t know, wherefore art thou Romeoing from the balcony or taking her to play skee-ball or one of those Bull Durham kisses that last three days, I can’t tell what your rump-shakery might be. I just know what mine is. And it’s words. Woo me with words and you’ve got me, fellas. You can bring me words instead of flowers. Flowers just die and drop all those messy petals on the rug and make me and Dumbcat sneeze, anyway.

*sigh* This'll do just fine.

*sigh* This’ll do just fine.


Look, the Mars Curiosity (which I will never think of without thinking of my beloved NASA mohawk dude, sigh…)

Also, his name is Bobak. SIGH SIGH.

Also, his name is Bobak. SIGH SIGH.

found a FLOWER on MARS.

I don’t think this looks like a flower. But they’re calling it a flower. I think it looks like a squished shiny frog, to be honest. Is this like a Rorshach test?

Apparently they found something else a few days ago they were all jazzed about and it was just space garbage because we’re tired of dirtying up our own planet so we’re leaving space-litter on OTHER planets now.

But THIS one, they don’t know what it is but it might be a mineral outcropping on Mars or it might be a MARTIAN SPACE FLOWER or it might just be a trick of the camera, who knows.

People make me smile. I don’t think it’s a mystery. It’s a rock. A shiny pretty rock. We have those on Earth, too. I pick ’em up a lot, bring ’em home. I like rocks a lot. Especially shiny ones.

But I also like a sense of magic and mystery. So, think it’s a space flower, my darlings. I will never be the one that tells you it’s not. If you want to think there are mysteries and magic on Mars, you can think that. I’ll let you.

I still think it looks like a squished shiny frog, though. And wouldn’t a squished shiny Martian space-frog be even COOLER than a space-flower?

I found this on a conspiracy site. These people think they already FOUND a space-frog! Huzzah!

I found this on a conspiracy site. These people think they already FOUND a space-frog! Huzzah!

There, Andreas, we have brains (not the zombie-kind) and sexy rump-shakery and suspicious Martian flora. ALL FOR YOU! VERY SCIENCY!

Also, Andreas, do you have the number for the NASA mohawk guy? Because I kind of want to…um…do PG-13 to R-rated things with him. And I’m sure all you sciency types have each other’s numbers. Thanks, Andreas, you’ve got my back.

Happy weekend, everyone!

Preparing for the apocalypse with snack cakes and disco balls.

We were talking about the end of the world at work the other day. You know. As you do.

Apparently, the Mayan end-of-the-world is December 21. I don’t know the details. Something about the Mayan calendar ending or something? I read a bunch of things and they were confusing. Something about some sort of period ending? And some people are all DOOM AND GLOOOOOM! and some people are all, um, yeah, that’s not how this works at all, people, you’re being weirdos. But you tell people the end of the world is nigh and people start freaking the hell OUT, yo. (And it’s not even about zombies! I know. Hard to fathom.)

Apparently this thing predicts our DOOOOOM. It looks like a prop from a Nicholas Cage movie.

Apparently this thing predicts our DOOOOOM. It looks like a prop from a Nicholas Cage movie.

Mostly I think the end of the world is hokum. I think we’re all going to have an end of the world; it’ll happen at different times for all of us. Some of our worlds will end with heart attacks and some with cancer and some with accidents and some with, I don’t know, falling into the sea from a cliff or something, there’s always someone who does something like that, right?



BUT, just in CASE the end of the world’s happening in less than two weeks, we totally have to be PREPARED. I worry about you, my little jelly beans. What if I poo-poohed the Mayan apocalypse and then it happened and you were all beset upon my locusts or something? I’d feel just utterly TERRIBLE. Well, in-between hiding from those locusts, I suppose. In-between that I’d feel terrible.



So I totally researched the things you need to do to be prepared for the (potential) upcoming apocalypse. So you don’t fall prey to the locusts. (If the horsemen come, I can’t help you, though. They’re total badasses.)


According to this website, which I think we can all agree looks quite sciency in a not-at-all sciency way, we need to do the following:

  1. Get together a group.


    Apparently your group needs to be about 25 people, and with your group you need to repopulate the earth. Oh. Um. Well, I think that’s how you need to phrase it. You should walk up to your friends and say, “Listen. The world’s ending in a little over a week and a half, so I’m trying to get a group together. We’re going to need to have a lot of sex. You’re cool with that, right? Us having a lot of sex, platonic-friend-up-until-now?” That won’t creep your friends out at all that you want to use them as brood mares. Neat! So start making a list of people you want to spend the rest of the end of the world with and/or bone and/or procreate with. (You also can’t bring along family members, obviously, because no one wants to have sex with their siblings. So see ya later, bro, you can’t come. Get out of my apocalypse shelter.)

  2. Plan.
    "Bob, you're in charge of the sex swing, and Jenny, you're in charge of the baking. We cool? Good, good."

    “Bob, you’re in charge of the sex swing, and Jenny, you’re in charge of the baking. We cool? Good, good.”

    Get together your orgy group and talk about the apocalypse. I’m sorry I left this for so late. You don’t have a lot of time to do any of these things. I guess talk quickly. This also says to elect a club president and treasurer and such. You know the president’s going to get the most sex, so choose wisely.

  3. Find a place for your new civilization to begin.
    I choose here. Look! Pretty!

    I choose here. Look! Pretty!

    Claim a plot! Make it be in the middle of nowhere (because of other people who are NOT in your sex-orgy group, and also probably looters.) Get a map, so you can find it once the locusts come. Go camping there in all weather (um…we only have a week and a half left…so again, I’m sorry, I really shot you all in the foot on this one) so you can be prepared because this is your new HOME.

  4. Put together a survival kit.
    Here's mine. I am OBSESSED with these things.

    Here’s mine. I am OBSESSED with these things.

    Now, this site was not helpful about a survival kit, but I was reading a recap of some show on TLC (of COURSE it was on TLC – TLC has some SUPER-helpful programming like about hillbillies and such) about preparing for the apocalypse and apparently what you need is a lot of food in cans like huge cans of pudding and stew; a big garden under a geodesic dome like in that movie with Pauly Shore and the stoner Baldwin who has since found the Lord; rabbits (so you can pet ’em, but also kill ’em and then eat ’em); a portable surgery kit just in case someone needs to get their leg amputated; and guns. A LOT of guns. One guy was pre-carrying his gun everywhere, just in case the apocalypse hit while he was going about his day. He was attempting to learn to SWIM with it on. I’m not even kidding.

  5. Build a shelter.
    Ooh, a BOOK. About SHELTERS. Nice.

    Ooh, a BOOK. About SHELTERS. Nice.

    The site recommends you build it underground and also protect yourself from the elements and also looters. Also since you’re going to be having all that procreatey sex, you probably want to put one of those rotating beds in there with satin sheets, and maybe also a disco ball. And load up on CDs you like, probably. You’re going to be listening to those over and over and OVER. Plus also the site recommends you figure out your power source. Listen, this is a lot of work. Why didn’t you all warn me we needed to start planning for this before this? URGH.

  6. Hoard.


    Hoard a YEAR’S worth of supplies. Shit, you guys, you have to do this in a WEEK. You’d better get on the horn with your 25 sex-people and get them to start hoarding too. Put one in charge of snack-cakes and one in charge of Dumbcat-food, ok? (Oh. Yeah, if the world’s ending, Dumbcat’s coming with. Sorry. There’s going to be fur all up in our shelter. Listen! I’m not leaving my guy BEHIND. He wouldn’t know what to do with all those locusts.) Don’t just hoard food. You also need things like clothes and toilet paper and pens. Don’t forget pens, how will you write to-do lists?

  7. Pray.
    I like this kid's face. PRAYING IS HARD!

    I like this kid’s face. PRAYING IS HARD!

    No, seriously, the next step was to pray. Um. Well, I guess, if that’s your thing, you can do that. I’m not going to tell you NOT to pray. But while you pray, I’m going to use that time to hoard more.

  8. Study.
    NO, you can't have a Golden Ticket. Stop asking.

    NO, you can’t have a Golden Ticket. Stop asking.

    Each of your people who are also sex-orgy people also need to be an expert in something. Well, I think we can skip this step, because I’m not inviting anyone into my underground bunker who’s not brilliant. All of my people are already experts in something. Also, I’m not having sex with anyone who’s not brilliant. Sorry. That’s the golden ticket to my areas.

  9. Cross-train.
    We get to use awesome bouncy balls? That's ok, then.

    We get to use awesome bouncy balls? That’s ok, then.

    This article wants you to be in peak physical condition for the apocalypse. Shit. I don’t think a week and a half is long enough. Sorry. Unless you’re already IN peak physical condition. Wait, do I know anyone in peak physical condition? I don’t know that I do. Those people confuse and befuddle me, plus where would I meet them? Those people don’t live on the internet.

  10. Keep an eye on the sky for…something?
    I guess one of the other group-members will have to look for the bombs. I have to hoard ALL THE THINGS RIGHT NOW.

    I guess one of the other group-members will have to look for the bombs. I have to hoard ALL THE THINGS RIGHT NOW.

    I don’t know. Bombs, maybe? This one’s confusing, plus I’m too busy hoarding.

So, really, what we’ve learned it, mostly we don’t have much time, but once we do all this stuff, we’re totally going to be having a lot of sex with our friends. Um. I don’t…huh. I don’t really want to have a lot of sex with my friends. (Sorry, friends.) But then again, I don’t know that I so much want to go up to complete strangers and ask them to be in my sex-orgy apocalypse group. This is a hard choice, you guys.

OK, so we have almost two weeks. Hoard hoard hoard. Also maybe get some guns and rabbits. Or don’t. But if anything happens to you, I will feel TERRIBLE.

And so will Dumbcat, although mostly he’s just excited he gets to live in a BUNKER and get his fur all over NEW FURNITURE MOM!

Science: making you feel bad about your swimsuit areas. Sorry, swimsuit areas.

Apparently we’re all supposed to sleep around randomly and not ever get married ever, or maybe not.

IT IS SCIENCE! (Or maybe not.)

So I read this article a couple months ago and I saved it because it was interesting (but also totally kind of vague) and also SCIENCE and it talked about “horny papillae” and come ON, we all love to discuss things like horny papillae, don’t we? It’s like it was MADE for discussion over here.

Also, if there’s science, I think, “oh, Andreas will be so proud of me, because SCIENCE.” I do so like to make my Science Fellow proud of me.

So according to this article, back in the ancient days of yore, our ancestors (wait, we all agree we came from monkeys, right? Can we agree on that? Because if we can’t…well, I worry about your sanity. I found this for Andreas the other day and I think it would benefit ALL OF US EVERY LAST ONE OF US.)

ANYWAY, our ANCESTOR MONKEYS all had “horny papillae” on their penises. Yep. We’re totally talking about penises today. Only for a little while, though. I haven’t talked about penises OR sex lately and Ding Dong Joe’s getting all nervous I’ve forgotten about them.

Now, a lot of mammals still have these bumps. Guess what they’re for. NO GUESS.

You totally guessed for her pleasure, didn’t you? Like those terrible condoms that are lies lies lies? WRONG SALLY.

They are to make sex last LESS LONG. Yep. You read that right. Because in the animal kingdom, having Sting-style tantric sex ALL NIGHT LONG (all night) is not a good idea. You have to be doing other things. Like eating seeds and such. Or maybe other mammals or insects. Or fighting. There’s a lot of fighting in the animal kingdom, you know. Don’t you watch Animal Planet? Or Cops?

Even wee bebeh kittens fight!!!

Even wee bebeh kittens fight!!!

But HUMANS evolved PAST our horny papillae so we could trip the light fandango or get our oil changed or play hide the sausage for HOURS. Or whatever euphemisms you might like, you can pick. It’s really your call. Or if you want, you can ask Ken, he’s in charge of euphemisms. He’ll find one for you if you want. I’m sure he’d be happy to. Guy loves a challenge.

I know, I know, this has very little to do with marriage or not-marriage or all the sex, doesn’t it? I’m GETTING there. The scenic route is the way I go, chickadees, EVERY SINGLE TIME. Except for when I don’t, I like to shake off the people tailing me sometimes.

Anyway, science-types say that the reason we don’t have these bumps and lumps is to make sex last LONGER and be more PLEASING for BOTH PARTIES (whoo, THANKS, science, except for that one time…no, let’s not talk about that right now, except for to say NO THANK YOU FOR THAT TIME SCIENCE SIGH) and therefore this led to monogamy.

Except then the article got all vague and was like “although maybe not.”

Listen, article. You need to take a STAND. You need to be BRAVE. You can’t be all wishy-washy, it’s EMBARRASSING.

I learned things from this article, like only 1 in 6 societies enforce monogamy as a rule. Really? This seems low. I guess I believe it. What choice do I have? I don’t know all the rules of the world. Also I learned that back in the DAY, you weren’t allowed to have a formal concubine, but you were allowed to have all the sex with your slaves as you wanted. Well! That seems fun for the slaves. In a not-at-all fun way.

I feel the slaves maybe had enough to do without having to worry about your needs as well, guys.

I feel the slaves maybe had enough to do without having to worry about your needs as well, guys.

Then they talked to some sciency types who said “There are a few species that are monogamous…the fat-tailed dwarf lemur. The Malagasy giant jumping rat. You’ve got to look in the nooks and crannies to find them, though.”

Hee, “nooks and crannies.” Also, I’d have to wonder if it’s in the name. Like, who’d want to sleep with a fat-tailed dwarf lemur, or a Malagasy giant jumping rat? No one. Also, don’t call animals fat. Call ’em big-boned. It hurts their feelings to call them fat. They can’t help their genetics or if they like to eat all the snack cakes while watching Cheaters.

Stop negatively attacking my self-esteem, says the fat-tailed dwarf lemur. This one's name is Petunia.

Stop negatively attacking my self-esteem, says the fat-tailed dwarf lemur. This one’s name is Petunia.

Then the article started talking about testes size. YEP! We’re talking about PENISES and also TESTICLES today. Apparently animals that  cheat a lot have HUGE BALLS. Heh. So as better to spread all the seed. Then the article says – I’m not even kidding, sorry, fellas – “And what about a man’s testes? They’re not so big and not so little. They’re just eh.” Aw! Guys! Apparently human testes are just EH! I feel bad for your testes. THEY ARE LOVELY, GUYS. Don’t let the article make you feel bad about your swimsuit areas. BAD ARTICLE BAD.

Mostly, what the article said was “we don’t know if humans used to be monogamous or polygamous. Because we have no way of knowing such things. We think humans are monogamISH. WE SAID ISH. And we are SCIENTISTS. So stuff that in your pipes and smoke it.”

This worries me. Why can’t the scientists figure this shit out? (P.S., Andreas says that scientists don’t like to say “YES!” or “NO!” because if they’re wrong they look like assholes. Well, he didn’t say THAT. He’s much less vulgar and more well-spoken than I am. THANK YOU ANDREAS!)

Here’s my thought. (What, you thought I’d let it go without giving you my very sciency thoughts? Andreas, you need to read this article and give your thoughts, by the way. I bet you do better than the scientists. You can even say penis and testes as much as you want, and it’s not even filthy. I KNOW! Isn’t this the best? Sure it is.)

I know some people are all “I could never love just one person!” and that’s awesome. I don’t judge. (Well, unless you don’t tell the person you’re currently WITH you feel this way. I don’t think cheating is cool. I have weird values about cheating. Don’t ask. It’s one of my weirdly puritanical things. Or maybe it’s one of my weirdly Wiccan things – you’re not supposed to harm anyone in the Wiccan faith. And cheating always harms someone. Or multiple someones. I don’t think it’s a good idea. I also think it’s sneaky. I hate sneakiness and I hate lying.)

Also if you're not careful you'll end up on this show and it's SCANDALOUS, you guys.

Also if you’re not careful you’ll end up on this show and it’s SCANDALOUS, you guys.

But I’m very one-persony. If I’m in love with someone…that’s my person. I’m a baby duck who imprinted when I’m in love with someone, I’ll totally admit it. Mostly this might be because it doesn’t happen very often? And so when it does, that person is SPECIAL. Also, I fight it. I realize I’m falling for someone and I’m like “NOPE STOP THAT THIS WON’T END WELL!” but if it’s meant to be, my stupid heart wins out and then I’m in for trouble. Hoo, boy, am I. So if I went through ALL THAT why would I want to be with someone ELSE? That was a lot of work. A LOT of work.

Here's me. Imprinting on a corgi, apparently.

Here’s me. Imprinting on a corgi, apparently.

So…I guess mostly I don’t understand polygamy? Because I don’t WANT to be with more than one person. I want ONE person. And hopefully that imaginary nebulous person would feel the same? I mean, that would be the goal, anyway? Also, I’m a (what? shock! awe!) very jealous person. I always thought that would be the worst part of being in a polygamous relationship. Wouldn’t you be so jealous of the other wives (or if you’re male, husbands?) Wouldn’t you think, “s/he looked at my sister wife/brother husband a little longer than s/he looked at me at dinner…does s/he like them better? WHY WHY WHY?” and then the whole thing would self-destruct?

Maybe most people aren’t as jealous as I am? What say you, readers, don’t you think you’d get so jealous if your husband was having sex with say 5 other women or something, or vice-versa sex-wise, men? Or am I out of my mind and old-fashioned and it would be awesome?

So…are we SUPPOSED to be monogamous? I don’t know. Probably not. I think we’re SUPPOSED to probably spread the seed all over and make a billion babies, right? That’s the way mammals work, isn’t it? Procreate? All you can? Like bunnies?

(This is mostly for Andreas because I know he loves this song as much as I do.)

(This is mostly for Andreas because I know he loves this song as much as I do.)

I guess what you decide to do really boils down to how your heart works. And some of us have weird loyal clockwork hearts that latch onto one person and that’s it, we’re done; and some of us are more open to lots of love, I suppose. Either way’s cool with me, just, like I said, don’t hurt anyone.

So…in summation:

  • horny papillae
  • penis
  • testes

You’re welcome, Ding Dong Joe. Don’t say I never gave you anything.

The sex part always gets in the way.

Harry: You realize of course that we could never be friends.
Sally: Why not?
Harry: What I’m saying is — and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form — is that men and women can’t be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.
Sally: That’s not true. I have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved.
Harry: No you don’t.
Sally: Yes I do.
Harry: No you don’t.
Sally: Yes I do.
Harry: You only think you do.
Sally: You say I’m having sex with these men without my knowledge?
Harry: No, what I’m saying is they all want to have sex with you.
Sally: They do not.
Harry: Do too.
Sally: They do not.
Harry: Do too.
Sally: How do you know?
Harry: Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her.
Sally: So you’re saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?
Harry: No, you pretty much want to nail ’em too.
Sally: What if they don’t want to have sex with you?
Harry: Doesn’t matter because the sex thing is already out there so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that is the end of the story.
Sally: Well, I guess we’re not going to be friends then.
Harry: Guess not.

You all recognize this, right? Good. It’s flawed, because it’s from a movie where the two WEREN’T friends – well, not ultimately, anyway, they ended up being in love with each other, so, more than friends – but it’s an interesting argument. One that’s been going on for a very long time.

Can women and men be friends? Can they really? Or, as Harry thinks, is it completely out of the realm of possibility?

Well, according to Scientific American, the answer is…Harry was right. Men and women cannot be friends. Not just friends, anyway.

HIGH FIVE! One of these people wants to epuhemize with the other.

Shit. This is terrible news. What am I going to tell…well, hell. All my male friends. Who actually outnumber my female friends, because, ever since I was a kid, I’ve always been better with male friends than female ones. Not because I want to get in their pants (or, as far as I know, they want to get into mine), but because, due to deep and abiding childhood trauma, I have a lot of trouble trusting women. I’m not saying I don’t have SOME female friends. I do, and the ones I have, I love a great deal. I’m just saying that childhood issues take a long time to resolve, or possibly never get resolved, and what you’re comfortable with is what you’re comfortable with.

My best friend is male. We’ve known each other for…how long, now, BFF, fifteen years this year, right? Fifteen years in August? Damn, we didn’t even celebrate that. SORRY BFF! Fifteen years is…what…crystal? Huh. Did you need me to send you some crystal, BFF? I mean, I could. But I don’t know that you’d want it. I don’t think you’re sitting around sippin’ from crystal wineglasses. Or are you? I haven’t seen you in YEARS. (BFF, I hate that I haven’t seen you in years.) Maybe you’re all fancy now, I don’t know. (Please don’t be all fancy, what would we have in common?)

Here, BFF, light of my life, I found you this crystal skull. HAPPY 15 YEARS I LOVE YOU!!!

But Scientific American says we can’t be friends. And, why? Why can’t we be friends?

Because of science.

Researchers (where? I don’t know. The link is broken. That’s suspect. Also, I find it strange I can’t find this on the Scientific American site, but only on Yahoo and mentioned here and there on the interwebs. Is my Google broken, or is this all one big scam?) brought 88 pairs of same-sex undergraduate opposite-sex friendship pairs into the lab. They told them they couldn’t share the results with each other once they left, and they interviewed them separately, so as to minimize the potential bias.

What’d they ask them?

Sounds like they asked them, “So…I know you say this chick/fella’s just your friend, but you really want to bone him/her, right?”

The results were:

  • Men seemed to want to have sex with their female friends (so, Harry was right)
  • Yet, women seemed much less likely to want to have sex with their male friends
  • Men seemed to think their female friends were attracted to them, even when they weren’t
  • Women had NO IDEA their male friends wanted to sneakyfuck them
  • Men were willing to go after female friends whether or not they were in a relationship; women were more respectful of their male friends who were in relationships

This bothers me. Let me tell you why.

Although the university wasn’t named (SHADY) they said these people were undergraduates. So, using what we know (college students and undergraduates) let’s assume some things. They are probably ages 18-22, and they have probably known each other from 1-4 years.

Now, I don’t know how many of you went to college, I’m going to guess probably quite a few of you. What’s the first thing I think of when I think of college?


Yeah, these are trustworthy scientific study participants. One of these people is wearing no shirt, but also a KNAPSACK.

(I’m exaggerating, it’s not the FIRST thing, but it’s one of them. At  least one of the top five.)

These are 18-22 year olds who are extendedly away from home for the first time in a living situation with OTHER 18-22 year olds and sex is EVERYWHERE and NO ONE CARES IF YOU ARE HAVING IT. Of COURSE they want to screw their friends. OF COURSE THEY DO. Also, how good of friends can they be if they’ve only known each other for a brief period of time, and at that age? At that age, you have goldfish-memory.

I’d like this study done properly, with people who have been friends for longer and who are not hormone-riddled. Well, we’re all hormone-riddled our whole lives long, but you know what I mean. Not AS hormone-soaked. People in their, say, mid-to-late 20s, early 30s, who have been friends with people of the opposite sex for 5 years or more. Would the results be the same, I wonder?

This study just makes people reading it say, “MEN THINK WITH THEIR DICKS” and that bothers me. I’m not saying I haven’t said that at one point or another in my life when I’ve been frustrated by the actions of the opposite sex; of course I have. I don’t know if you’ll meet a woman alive who hasn’t. I just think men are a little more complex than that, and I think it’s a disservice to them to just dismiss them out of hand as being controlled by their cocks. I mean, we as women fight CONSTANTLY not to be defined as “emotional” or “flighty” or “hysterical” or “attracting bears due to our lady-menses” or I don’t know what else the hell, right? This isn’t that much different. We’re all PEOPLE. We are complex and we have a lot more going on than our XX or XY chromosome pairings.

Har de har har. Things like this make me want to stab someone.

OK. Rant over. Sorry, I have to stick up for my guys. Guys can be frustrating, sure. But so can women. We all can. It’s one of the things about humans. We do weird, stupid nonsensical things, whether or not we have an innie or an outie downstairs, you know?

Also – ALSO – another reason it’s shitty to be all “ALL MEN THINK ABOUT IT SEX” is…well, why do we assume women don’t think about sex? Shh, top-secret news: WE DO. We TOTALLY do. I don’t know the statistic or anything, but I’d assume women think about it just as much as men do. Sex is awesome and why would you NOT think about it, male OR female? This whole thing is ridiculous.

Apparently, the study went one step further and DID interview older people – just in a weirdly skewed way. They asked opposite-sex friends to list positives and negatives of their friendship. This is written in a very confusing manner – here, I’ll let you read this:

Variables related to romantic attraction (e.g., “our relationship could lead to romantic feelings”) were five times more likely to be listed as negative aspects of the friendship than as positive ones. However, the differences between men and women appeared here as well. Males were significantly more likely than females to list romantic attraction as a benefit of opposite-sex friendships, and this discrepancy increased as men aged—males on the younger end of the spectrum were four times more likely than females to report romantic attraction as a benefit of opposite-sex friendships, whereas those on the older end of the spectrum were ten times more likely to do the same.

So…men think being into your friends is good, while women don’t? Hmm.

Being romantically attracted to your friends – I’m going to tell you this right now? – SUCKS. And as I’m a woman, I guess I’m in the target demographic. So maybe this is why women list this as a negative; because we’re PRACTICAL.

The movies make it seem SO FUCKING EASY. You already KNOW each other, right? So one day, you just look at each other and you realize BAM, I’ve loved this person ALL ALONG, and now I get to have sex with them AND I know how they like their pizza PLUS I know all of their bad stuff AND I STILL LIKE THEM, plus vice-versa, and then you get married and all of your friends are all “I KNEW IT! I knew it all along. Those two. AW THOSE TWO.”

Give me a fucking break, please.

Only, it doesn’t usually (barely hardly ever) end up this way. Usually, one friend crushes on the other. And the other is not interested. Then the friendship limps along all awkwardly until it dies a sad panda death.

(You all remember Ken’s post about Duckie being a sneaky fucker, right? He was also “that guy”. That sad “I’m in love with my best friend BUT I CANNOT TELL HER” guy. Here, if you didn’t read it, go read it now, you can thank me later.)

But this happens regardless of sex. This happens to men who crush on their female friends, this happens to women who crush on their male friends, and this happens (most likely) to men who fall in love with their male friends and women who fall in love with their female friends. Once someone falls in love with someone who isn’t interested, there’s a power imbalance, and the whole thing falls to shit.

(Exception to this: sometimes you can get over the crush and regain the friendship. I have a friend who was a crush-object once. I managed to get over him and we’re still friends. It was rocky going for a while there, but we’re ok now. So, sometimes you end up ok.)

Now, don’t even tell me you know someone (or are someone) who fell in love with your best friend; I know it happens, and I’m so happy it does, and yay, you. I’m so not dismissing that sometimes this happens. Of course I’m not. However, people are predictable creatures; they see one example of something, and they think, “IT CAN HAPPEN TO ME!” like with winning the lottery or whatever, and it gives everyone hope that falling in love with their best friend CAN HAPPEN TO THEM and then they get all crushed when it doesn’t. It gives people unrealistic expectations, like those movies where the nerdy girl takes off her glasses and ZOMG SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL ALL ALONG YOU GUYS!!! (Tip: if you can’t tell someone’s beautiful just because they are wearing glasses, perhaps you need to get your OWN eyes checked, because that is stupid. It’s why I was always confused by the Superman movies.)

My thoughts on this? Yes. Men and women can be friends. No, not all men want to hump us like overeager puppies. It’s stupid to think they do. I don’t care what this weird and wonky “scientific study” says. I have plenty of male friends that I’m quite sure don’t want to have sex with me. (Guys, if you do, please don’t tell me. I like being oblivious of such things.) I mean, I have some male friends I’ve known since high school. If I’ve known them that long and they’ve NEVER made any sort of overtures toward me, what, are they biding their time? That’s ridiculous. That’s a lot of time to be biding.

Scientific American, I am saddened by this. I really am. This doesn’t seem very scientific. Or overly Merkan.

ANDREAS. You are our Science Fellow. What are your thoughts on this? From a scientific point of view? Or a male point of view. Or both, that’s fine. I’d be interested in both.

Oh, and because what my parents think of something is always of import:

  • Mom thinks all of my male friends are trying to get in my pants. EVERY ONE OF THEM. And also that I’m trying to get into theirs. My mother apparently thinks everyone in the world is a sex-crazed lunatic. She says things like “I don’t know if you should talk to your male friends so much; their significant others won’t like that.” Or, “It’s a good thing those friends of yours live so far away; otherwise, they’d come over and try to have all the sex with you. THAT’S WHAT THEY DO.” And then I roll my eyes so hard I dislocate them. Can you dislocate eyes? Mom is VERY RELIGIOUS and thinks everyone’s whorey. Including (sadly) her own daughter. Who is actually kind of the opposite of whorey, to tell you the truth. Don’t you have to be having sex to be whorey? I would think so. Or is it like religion, and you can be a non-practicing whore?
  • Dad thinks the same thing, only he thinks it’s fine. And then he says, “Don’t tell your mother.” Because she would be FURIOUS at him. So, apparently, per Dad, it’s ok if I slut it up with all my male friends, as long as I don’t tell him about it because EW WE DON’T TALK ABOUT SEX AMY. When I tell him I have no interest in having sex with my male friends and I honestly think that’s kind of bullshit to assume that men and women can’t be friends without them having all the sex, he says, “Well, I saw it on the news, so it must be true.” Apparently Fox News says men and women can’t be friends? So you know it must be true, then. BOTH FAIR AND BALANCED.

So my mom thinks all men are dogs and I’m a whore and my dad thinks men and women all want to be gettin’ it on and that’s ok as long as we don’t talk about it. I don’t…are we sure I’m not adopted? Quite sure? (Is this a generational thing? No, I’m quite serious. Are there less male/female friendships in older generations because it’s just a thing that wasn’t done back in the day, maybe, and that’s why my parents are so weird about it?)

Also, this piece on The Colbert Report about this report made me giggle. DAMMIT WORDPRESS why won’t you let me embed Comedy Central videos? You are annoying me.

Harry was wrong. Except for about when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible? That part’s ok. I’m down with that, Harry. I’m totally down with that.

Tip Number 31: You can use it like undereye cream! Remove those unsightly bags! What? No?

So yesterday we started the week out with a euphemistic bang by discussing weird vibrators and wall-sex and scarf-sex. Today, we’re ALSO not safe for work, and we’re discussing MORE helpful Cosmo tips. About ROMANCE. And LUBE. Listen, YOU’RE the ones who said there’s not enough SEX around here. Now you get TWO DAYS of it. Oh, my search terms next month are going to be SO AWFUL.

25 Romantic Ideas (That Won’t Freak Him Out.) How much money do you want to put on the fact that these are going to freak him out? I’m poor as poor and I’d take that bet.

  • Initiate a spontaneous dance party. While you’re cooking or going about other daily rituals, turn up one of your shared favorite artists and start grooving. Even if he tries to rein in your silly side, the moment he comes over to curb your running man can lead to a sweet, intimate hug and kiss. (The hell? Don’t do this. I mean, if you wanna dance, dance, babe. But don’t do it just to get him all romantic-like. That’s stupid. Also, he’s going to think you’re a weirdo. And I can assure you, if I did it, he’d think I was having a seizure. Can’t dance! Not even a little!)
  • Write him a short, sexy message on a sticky note and stick it in an unexpected place for him to find. When he opens his glasses case or starts his car, he’ll have an unprompted reminder that you care. (“Hi honey I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I WANT TO EAT YOUR FACE EAT IT RIGHT OFF HA HA NOT REALLY BUT KINDA!” Write that. He’ll love that. Put that on like fifty postits and put them EVERYWHERE. That’ll get him.)

    I don’t think you need to write “The Beatles” under this. That’s like writing “In the beginning…” –God on a post-it. WE KNOW WHO WROTE THESE LYRICS.

  • Browse the local music listings for cheap or free shows in your area and create a “crawl” based on acts with the most hilarious names. Another option: checking out a genre neither of you are too familiar with. You never know—you might discover your favorite new group, and if it’s horrible, plenty of performers can turn out to be entertainingly bad. (Because nothing says “romantic night out” more than mocking local musicians who are just trying really hard. Way to go, douchecanoes.)


  • Make a game out of picking out random items around the house and determining ways to incorporate them into bedroom play. Okay, maybe those porcelain frog figurines won’t do, but those cashmere scarves might serve, shall we say, dual purposes? Whatever doesn’t work can totally make for a good laugh. (ZOMG COSMO. Make it STOP with the scarves. Also, don’t even bring porcelain frog figurines into this. Porcelain frog figurines are INNOCENT and are not allowed to be part of your naughty scarfy sex-play.)

    LEAVE US OUT OF THIS. Better yet, turn our froggy faces to the wall when you’re gettin’ all weird up over there. *shudder*

  • Tease your guy with little practical jokes. Have an object, like a ridiculous fake plant, that he’s given you a hard time about? Hide it around his place. Whether it’s waiting for him in the fridge, the washer, or his computer’s desktop wallpaper, it’s destined to deliver a genuine laugh. (You’re going to put a PLANT in the WASHER? I think he’s going to be all “why the hell is this plant in the washer, my girlfriend’s losing her shit.” This isn’t romantic. It’s stupid. Stop being stupid. Also, how the hell would you get a plant into someone’s desktop wallpaper? In like a virtual-reality way? In the FRIDGE? FOOD goes in the fridge. Not fake PLANTS. WEIRD and STUPID.)


    Although this tip did put one of my favorite songs in my head and I’ve been singing it under my breath for the past twenty minutes. I like the “it wears her out” part.

  • Even studies have proven that vacation sex is one of the hottest varieties. Too broke to jet off to the Caribbean? Experience the same fresh change of scene by indulging in a staycation. Check into a hotel of your picking and kick back with a killer bottle of wine and some room service. Don’t forget to score a few dirty looks from stodgy older guests by playing some of your favorite throwback games in the indoor pool. (Listen, I’m all for bon vivanting. You know that. And sexy bon vivanting is NICE. But acting like an asshole in the hotel and pissing off the other guests is not the way to go.)

These romantic ideas are stupid. You can do better. Here’s an idea: just be yourself. If he’s the right guy, it’ll come. If he’s not, why are you wasting your time? Honestly, I’ve been with some guys that hanging out talking all night was the most romantic thing in the world, and we didn’t spend a single penny, and I’ve been with some guys that dinner and wining and dining and moonlight and candlelight and ALL of that left me dead and cold inside so romance is where you find it, chickpeas. (ZOMG I TOTALLY WANT CHICKPEAS. If someone brought me chickpeas right now, now THAT would be romantic.)

I want these SO MUCH right now I can’t even. I am having a Pavlovian response to this photo. WANNNNNTTTTT.

Two more! This is super-long, right? It’s because Cosmo’s so helpful. 25 Ways to Seduce a Man. WELL! That’s going to be helpful. I’d like to seduce a man. What’cha got, Cosmo?

  • Join him in the shower wearing a white tee and nothing else. Once you get soaked, he’ll get a front-row seat to a hot wet T-shirt contest. (Or you could…just get into the shower naked? I don’t…is the t-shirt sexier? It’d just get all wet, and hard to take off, and clammy, and then you’d have to dry it and wash it again, and the thought of extra housework doesn’t make me turned-on. It makes me tired. Also, one time I knew someone that had shower sex and she almost dislocated a hip. I don’t think ER visits are sexy, either.)
  • When you’re watching TV together, drape your bod across his lap with your stomach facing the sky. Then, arch your back so that your boobs stick out. He won’t be able to tear his eyes away. (“I’m trying to watch Storage Wars. WHY ARE YOU BOTHERING ME? This can’t wait until after this is done? I can’t even SEE over your BOOBS. Sheesh.”)


  • If you’re at a party, walk up to him and whisper something naughty in his ear like, “I’m wearing a new thong tonight. Want to check it out later?” Then saunter away. (That’s naughty? You can do better. “Let’s go have sex in the guest bathroom right now, the hostess has a kicky selection of scarves,” now THAT’S naughty. Also, don’t saunter. Don’t ever saunter.)
  • Spotted a hottie across a crowded room? Make eye contact, hold it for two seconds while giving a sexy little smirk, look away for a second, and then look back at him. He’ll be over in no time. (TRUE STORY! Once I tried something like this, and the guy totally came over, and I was all, “no shit. That worked?” and he was all, “I’m sorry, were you trying to get my attention? Do we know each other?” and I said, “no…” because I didn’t know what to say because THIS was awkward and he was all, “oh, I thought we had class together or something, sorry” and then he left. So that was TOTALLY seductive! Except not at all seductive.)
  • Climb into bed one night wearing sexy thigh-highs and nothing else. (You think I’m going to wear pantyhose? On PURPOSE? On my time OFF? No thanks. Not even a little bit.)
  • While you’re both at work, text him a pic of how hot your bare legs look in your new heels. (“What the hell? Why is she sending me photos of disembodied legs and feet? This chick is SO EFFING WEIRD.”)
  • Send him this text: “I’ve got a surprise for you tonight…;).” (“What’s in the box? What’s in the box? WHAT’S IN THE BOX?!?!?!”)


  • Spritz a musky perfume in your hair and pull it up into a ponytail. When you’re hanging out next to him, let your hair down. He’ll get a sultry whiff. (“GOOD GRIEF WOMAN! Why is your hair so GREASY? Maybe you could use SHAMPOO next time and not PERFUME?”)
  • If you have long hair, gently stroke the ends and let your hands float down to your breasts afterwards. Catch his eye while you’re doing it and give a sexy smile. (This is the single freakiest thing I have read yet. This is worse than the scarf-thing. I’m just imagining this girl staring at this guy all dead-eyed and playing with her hair over and over while the guy’s all, “are you ok? What’s up? Did you take your meds today?”)

Are these the ways to seduce a man? Really? Well, shit, I guess I see why I’m single. And why I’m likely to remain so forever. I’m not going to do ANY of these things. Not ever ever. SO EMBARRASSING. Finally, we have 25 Sexy Ways to Use Lube. Um. I don’t…huh. I can think of one. And it’s to lube oneself, or, I suppose, another, prior to…um…needing that lube. Twenty-five? That is a LOT. Cosmo knows all the things, it’s really kind of impressive.

ZOMG JIM. Look what I FOUND. It is the GROSSEST. Bacon DOESN’T make everything better, not at all.

  • Have your guy lay face-down on the bed and spread lube on your hands. Massage up and down his groin area using a sawing motion with the side of your hands. This movement stimulates blood flow down there, giving him a better erection. (The words “sawing motion” made me laugh so hard I almost choked and died, I’m not even kidding. SAWING MOTION. Because if there’s anything sexy about “groin areas” and “lube,” it’s a SAWING MOTION. Like you do with wood! Ha, wood. With sharp, sharp saws, and wood.)


  • Spread a warming lube like Durex Play Warming on his boys. (Putting lube on someone’s children is not advised. Oh, wait, boys is a EUPHEMISM. It means BALLS. Don’t do this, I know someone who had a bad experience with warming lube and “it burns IT IS BURNING ME” made me laugh until I choked. NO, it didn’t happen to me. It was the retelling the next day that killed me dead. In TEARS of laughter, I was. Because inappropriate things make me hysterical.)

    Please don’t put lube on these adorable kiddos. Look at these FACES!

  • Spread a strawberry-flavored lube on his erection and lick it like an ice cream cone. (What, with big old chomps? That’s how *I* eat my ice cream. OK, who wants me to chomp on ’em? What? No one? Sheesh, Cosmo said it was SEXY. This is TERRIBLE advice. Also, FLAVORED lube? GROSS. It would taste awful. Don’t fool yourself it wouldn’t.)
  • Slick lube on your breasts and lay down behind your guy, with his back to you. Slide your bod up and down his back. The sensations will be super-hot for both of you. (What? No it wouldn’t. It would be HYSTERICALLY FUNNY. He’d be all, “What’cha doin’ back there?” and then you’d both get the giggles. Don’t do this, come on. Also, stop saying “bod.” NO ONE SAYS BOD.)
  • Marathon sex sessions can dry you out, so reapplying lube during a long one is key. Make a game of it by setting a timer on your phone. Once it goes off, you both have to stop and spread lube on each other. (What a fun game! “ZOMG I AM DRY AS THE DESERT WHAT WITH YOUR HUMPING! The timer went off! WHAT FUN TIME FOR LUBING!” Is anyone else getting the idea that this is paid for by the American Lube Council or something?)
  • Got a squeaky bed? A few drops of lube at the joints should fix it. (THEY RAN OUT OF SEX IDEAS. This is #17. They couldn’t even finish the 25 so they’re now including HELPFUL HOME TIPS. This list is making me laugh so hard I have to pee.)

    Why is this person doing so much work? Just squirt a shit-ton of lube all over that mother. Works like a CHARM.

The moral of this story is…shit, I don’t even know. Get all slippery, I guess. SO STUPID. So what did we learn today, chickadees? Other than, sometimes this blog is totally not safe for work and YOU ARE WELCOME? Well, the answer is, Cosmo is VERY BAD AT SEX TIPS. So, so bad. Like, so bad it makes my head hurt. Here, I will give you sex tips. They are better than Cosmo’s.

  • Have sex.
  • Have fun having sex.
  • Please don’t hurt anyone. Unless that’s what you’re into, I’m not judgey.
  • I guess if you feel you need to use scarves, you can? But please give the guy a heads-up. And don’t tie them too tight. Because, there’s a difference between a sex-scarf and a tourniquet, you know?
  • Please don’t feel the need to listen to Cosmo’s advice. I feel like the people who wrote it might have grown up in a closet or something and have very little understanding how the real world works, sex-wise.
  • Did I mention have all the sex, and have fun having that sex? Good. Those are the most important points.

That is all I have to say about sex right now. I think that’s enough, don’t you? Good. Oh, don’t buy that cone thing we talked about yesterday. That’s not sexy at all. sj and I have been discussing it and mostly the concensus we came up with was “ew, what? No. I can’t even…no.” Can you even imagine whipping out that cone-thing when you had a gentleman caller over, all, “hey, babe, let’s try this cone-thing?”  No. Do not do that, please. Ding Dong Joe, and also I suppose Pervy Pete: I hope you have enjoyed these very informative posts. You are WELCOME, don’t say I never gave you anything. Maybe start thinking about finding your own place in Munich? Ken can’t be supporting you forever. He might want to actually SIT on his couch someday, you know? After he disinfects it. Disinfect that couch, Ken. RIGHT AS SOON AS HE LEAVES. You have NO IDEA where he’s been. None at all.

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