Odd Spot #123

Sigmund Freud had a morbid fear of ferns.

So ... errh ... what are ferns a symbol of?

I don't know exactly what the Freudian theory is of ferns but ...

High heels, my foot!

Here's an article which urges women to wear stilettos instead of sandals and flats because it will boost their health and possibly also their sex-life.

One minute high heels are bad for you, straining your ankles, next minute they're a godsend. It sounds like one of those crock messages dieticians give you that has you running in both directions. Stupido.

I say, wear what you like, eat what you like, it's too hard to keep up with this load.

What I don't quite get is if these podiatrists are really so concerned about health, and that's their main concern, why is the article only urging WOMEN to pull out those stilettos? Why isn't it asking men to go to the ladies' section to find a high heel that suits them?

Is it because men's bodies are so differently constructed that they don't need the benefit of a heel to stop knee pain or arthiritis or help with posture, or more likely, that podiatrists are thinking, "No it's ok to urge all women to pull out high heels (even though the women I'm urging are presumably those who've been opting to wear the opposite kind of shoewear) but I wouldn't try to impose these ideas on men because, well, that's just a bit ridiculous, eh, I mean *snigger* a guy in high heels hehehe women can do it but I wouldn't expect a man to have to!"

It sounds like a weird discrimination both ways - putting people in boxes, expecting certain ladies to wear something that they have avoided because of certain health gains *supposedly*, and also avoiding marketing the same health benefits to men just because of a presumption that they mightn't want to wear same costume.

Unless it's true that men just don't gain the same benefits from wearing heels - and I'd like to see a test study, thanks, then how can you take this seriously?

As for the sex-life boost, the only possible sex-life boost I can imagine is that when you wear heels you are most likely to trip over, possibly into someone's arms, or perhaps in some weird way, flat on your back into a bed.

Sweet Ever-child

Is it just me, or does the word "child" seem kind of incongruous here? Apparently she's a young, early-twenties inexperienced junior.

When I was that age I wore rounded glasses, a daggy T-shirt, baggy jeans and a Swatch watch, had a jagged thick fringe, pimples, and no hips, and thought joining the chess club was ultra cool. And I thought make-up was pretty cool - if you were a clown or a mime-artist. I had to put socks down my bra to fill out a Double-A bra. Actually, that hasn't changed that much except I finally threw the light-blue and white striped shirt away. I've changed it for a green T-shirt, it cost $5, which was a major outlay for me. It's so mega-hot.

Maybe I'm a Neverland kinda girl, but I get on buses, and I find girls on child passes who look more developed than me. Or so I think. Either school girls grow up quickly, or someone's cheating the transport system for a heck of a lot.

And then these young models who look ... erh, more worldly than me. Hmmm. Am I weird to say I feel rather inadequate in many regions?

If my child looked like that, she'd be using me for her Cabbage Patch Doll.

Dear Maria: Actually, Ask a Statistician

The fretfully in love, and sexually embarrassed on Ask Sam
(previously known as Sam And The City) were confronted with the statistic from wherever Sam gets her stats, which was that the average man has had 7 sexual partners, and the average woman has had 4 sexual partners, which "doesn't add up" complained some, and bewailedcertain others, "women must be lying, where are all these extra women that men are sleeping with???" ('Course, couldn't be the men who were exaggerating their sexual prowess.)

Of course the stats could add up.

The average (whoever "average" is) man has had 7 sexual partners. The average female has had 4 sexual partners.

Doesn't say that those partners are all of the opposite sex.

Or for that matter, even human.

--

Postscript:

Jerry Springer's team read the above paragraph and has started storyboarding:

My hubby is bi, homo, gay, queer, experimental, and every othe not-that-there's-anything-wrong-with-that word you can think of!

My boyfriend bonks aliens!

I found my partner bonking a squirrel and now I'm experiencing insecurity problems and furry fantasies!

My man has ghost fetishes and it's driving me nuts!

My father likes it with ... well however you'd describe it you can't call my piano teacher human!

Men Don't Understand Me! Waaahh!

And I thought I just didn't get the romantic life.

Perhaps we'll start a little "What Shall I Do With My Love Life?" column, right here. All responses welcome. As a long time contributor to the hugely entertaining, highly addictive, often turning-into-jelly-wrestling-type-lowbrow banter blog, Sam And The City (if that offends anyone, please let me know and I'll ignore your complaints - I'm sure even the most ardent fans will agree that Sam's blog doesn't exactly massage the highest of their cerebral functions, or if it does, then ... oh dear) - the topic now turns to romance. Or lack of it.

I head to the streets, and turn my attention to the distressed Pinky.

Maria: Pinky, let me guess. Man problems?

Pinky: Isn't it always? My boyfriend is an idiot. He doesn't know what I want!

Maria: Hmmm, neither do I. What do you want?

Pinky: Boyfriends are jerks! The last one didn't stay long enough to be a boyfriend. He just has sex for a week then he disappears!

Maria: Ummmm ... welll ... Pinky: *glares* I AM NOT A SLUT!

Maria: Errh, I wasn't going to say that. *thinks: next interview I will bring a bodyguard/bulletproof vest/at least a heavy baseball bat*

Pinky: Then the next one gets all gooey eyed and wants to have kids and be my husband - can you believe it? My husband?

Maria: *thinks of glaring eyes* I definitely can't.

Pinky: I just want a gorgeous hunk of spunk who I can use for sex when I want and who'll spoil me rotten and adore me and never look at anyone else but won't marry me and doesn't expect commitment - is that too much to ask?

Maria: Errh ...

Pinky: Men are idiots aren't they?

Maria: *thinks: you'd better hope so* Thanks Pinky, good luck.

There's always someone with a pressing problem. Plenty of those unlucky in love out there.

A Beginners' Survival Guide To Sam And The City

Blogger Lexicon Harlot sprayed orange juice over her keyboard at the reading of it, and I say that enough's enough. Anything that causes a waste of orange juice is worth a protest over. The Sam And The City blog on the Sydney Morning Herald website, darn it.

'Lexi caused a dangerous juice spill, stumbled and fell, simply by reading about 'chivalry' and the 'biological clock' - but that's tame to a seasoned blog patron of SATC. Read Lexicon's post here.

Bloggers' Guide To SATC

1. Do not know the meaning of, but be prepared to recognise, the words 'intone', 'opine', and 'hilarious'. These are used frequently, discretely, indiscriminately, and out of context.

2. Be prepared to play blog poker. That means something along the lines of using the 6-digit security code provided by SMH each time you post, and announcing it as part of your post, and cheering if you got doubles or triples of any number. This, many bloggers who consider themselves highly intelligent, think of as very witty.

3. Announce whenever you get 999999 as your security code as proof that whatever you post must be correct, or that you are going to have good luck that do, or whatever you feel like. This is also considered very witty, despite the fact that 999999 must be one of the most common computer generated security codes to get.

4. Try to be the first person to post on a blog topic. Don't say anything relevant, write "first post?" or "Hey, first post, too bad I don't have anything to rite! hehehehee!"
Since the blog takes a while to update, this ensures that there will be a string of about six posts like that on each blog before anything on topic is written. It's also pretty good to write "No you didn't get first post" in answer, to string this out a little, ensuring that anyone reading the blog will have to scroll down about two screens before they actually start reading anything relevant. Again, many posters consider this extremely witty. Even though this ritual has been going on for over one year, approximately 5 days per week.

5. There are several posters who love stirring and criticising others, quite personally, but puerilely attack you for the same. Expect to read a lot of "I know you are but what am I"s or attempting-to-be-witty-sarcastic-put-downs.

6. Don't tell anything to a blog-poster you can't risk being posted - especially if you've met them at a blogmeet and they drink way too much. The "what goes on off the blog, stays off the blog" doesn't always stick, especially when people are angry - or drunk.

7. If anyone asks you your astrological sign ... oh, this applies to how you'd deal with anyone asking you your astrological sign in person. Sorry.

If You Have An Itch, Scratch It ...

Sounds good in theory ...

My last post reminds me of a friend's justification (if he needed one) of flings and casual sex "If you have an itch, scratch it."

While I wiggle uncomfortably in my seat here, feeling the bites of my sunburn - and yes you guessed it, a few mosquitoes caught up with me recently and had a field day - I'm certainly hoping for his sake, that his experience of an itch is qualitatively different from mine ...

And his "scratch" is a lot more satisfying.

A Bed To Bonk In

Someone commented to me recently, "You know, there are two things that you do in bed - sleep and have sex."

Obviously this person wasn't privy to the underworld of souls who have fondue-eating parties, clip their toenails, solve world poverty, knit booties and hold champion chess tournaments between the sheets, but I let the inaccuracy pass.

"However," he continued, "I've never seen an ad for a bed telling you how good it is for having sex in."

'Tis true, bed advertisements tend to blather about the cost-effectiveness of the pice of boudoir equipment and tell you you'll get a lovely snooze - no doubt important - but what ever happened to the romp?

I suppose you simply have to call over the salesperson, "My husband and I are into athleticism, three times a week, will this bed support it?"

What would the ideal bed to bonk in include? A condom dispenser? Certainly no squeaky mattresses. King-size, naturally, or are there certain people who like the idea of two bodies squashed into a little single (or perhaps their idea iof sex is flying solo?). Silk sheets - an arousing bright red or the more subtle shades of silken cream, or violent black? Four poster? Canopy? And is there anyone who favours waterbeds?

What about ambience - I've got an idea for a bed to bonk in that'd have about 1000 songs stored into its memory, a push-button system, easily accessible, or has someone got technology for a bed that's access your mood and play some appropriate tunes (and start a fanfare at orgasm?).

Gosh, I'm sweating already. If this is the bed, what will the ads for it be like? I'm picturing crowds on opening night at David Jones, Level 5. Manchester, Lingerie and Small Electrical - open demonstrations. Top Models at low prices ...

A Nice Game Of Scrabble

Last post I advocated a lovely - no, 'Nice', game of Scrabble.

However, as I was reminded, Scrabble isn't always so nice. Once played sedately by polite families who wanted to build their 9-year-old's spelling and vocabulary skills, it blossomed into a sport which you'd be unwise to play without mouthguards and shinpads.

When I first played Scrabble, Mum would mumble "oooh, a P and a T and an E hmmm let's see, what can we do here ..., can I help you with your letters dear?"

Since then it's metamorphosised into a war-game. I settled down to a game where my opponents screamed "Block off tactics! Cover the left hand corner of the board. Lure her into using the P, then move towards the triple, and cut her off towards the top! Move into the Double and the Z area - if we can't use it, she can't either! Ah-har!"

Not only has Scrabble turned into a life and death tactics game, but it's become ... naughty. OK, sexual. You don't need to play 'Stone Face' (see below) to get a raunchy game going, a 'Nice' game of Scrabble can become a raunchy game of Scrabble, and for all those eagerly awaiting details, yes, you can still use your old 'nice' set.

In fact, it seems almost every game is going the sexy route (pardon the pun).

Ways To Spice Up Your Scrabble Life

1. Strip Scrabble

Each round, the person who made the lowest scoring word takes a bit of clothing off. Or gets it taken off. Either way, you've got someone naked sitting there pretty quickly, because let's face it, everyone knows there is:

a) Always someone who is a loser at Scrabble, and usually finds it difficult finding the two-pointer words. And that this person is usually an old, ugly, wrinkly or deformed person when you're playing Strip Scrabble.

b) Always some exhibitionist who will put out (a lot), oh yes, and also put out a lot of two-pointer words, just for an excuse to show off their body. They also tend to be the old, ugly, wrinkly or deformed people. And they're usually the most likely to be completely deluded about their looks.

2. Sex Dictionary Scrabble

Only words having to do with sex and dating can be formed on the board. Let the words intersect and intertwine. Length of word does count, a lot, but so does size and how you use it. And definitely how it fits in nicely and snugly with the spaces left by the other words.

See how many times you can get ORGASM on the triple word, and whether many players start their play with DINNER, a DRINK, a CUDDLE and some STROKING or do they just lay out the HUMPING from the word go?

How many people will put out SEX before they've even gone for their first DATE?

And how many guys actually do manage to find CLITORIS?

Oh my. Oh God. I love Scrabble. The versatility. The contortions. The tension. Anything is possible.

Party Games

Times are a-changing. I was just thinking about Christmas day and some fun party games that could be played, when a discussion on Sam And The City turned to party games with the date and sex theme.

Now what ever happened to good old-fashioned 'Spin the Bottle'? Spin an old green glass bottle and get an innocent peck - or maybe a not-so-innocent-not-so-peckish-smooch, depending on your luck. Or 'Truth Or Dare'.

But then on Sam's blog popped up a game called 'Stone Face' - and actually, I'm loathe to use the term 'popped up' and 'Stone Face' in the same sentence. Now I'm no prude, or maybe I am (up for challenge) but I was just a little more than squeamish when explained the 'Rules of The Game'.

The rules, one person explained go along the lines of all the game players of the same gender (say the males) sitting around a table, with their lower torso covered by a sheet. The player(s) of the opposite gender would go under the table and choose one person to ... errh, um, how do I prudishly explain this, well I guess I go for the dive and say it out plainly - orally pleasure - and that person would attempt to keep a 'stone face', that is, not show by grimace or smile or cringe or other that they were the Chosen One. Then the others would try to guess who was Chosen.

Hmmmm.

A long way from 'Spin The Bottle' days. What would my mother think of that?

Of course, proponents of the game go on about freedom of choice, but like all party games, everyone's subject to the peer pressure, and the teasing and being felt left out and boring. "You're so boring, you don't crawl under tables and smooch anonymous genitalia! That is sooooo uninteresting!" is the battlecry of today's youth!

Now let's do an historical comparison of peer pressure, adventure and party games:

I'm remembering that gem of a book, the foundation stone of my childhood, 'Little Women'. There's a lovely chapter where some of the more daring and adventurous characters participate in a game called 'Truth' - they each take turns in having to answer (truthfully) questions put by the others. "Which lady here do you think the prettiest?" is a probing question, as is "Didn't you cheat at croquet?"

Amidst the laughter of the revelations, Jo says "Well, I think Truth is a very silly play. Let's have a sensible game of Authors to refresh our minds."

Then there's that wild game of "Daring" that's all the rage in 'Anne Of Green Gables' when she breaks her ankle walking the ridge pole of a roof after she gives in to daring from her classmate.

"Let them dare away," scoffs Marilla, when Anne asks her what she would have done in the face of peer pressure.

Wonder what Marilla would be thinking if it wasn't a ridge pole facing her little girl, but some dangly bits under the table ...

And how Jo would have refreshed her mind ...

Merciful goodness! Let's have a nice game of Scrabble to refresh our minds ...