10 orgasm facts

1. Marilyn Monroe claimed she never achieved orgasm with any of her famous lovers (including John F. Kennedy, Frank Sinatra and Joe DiMaggio).

2. Have a headache? Maybe you should have sex, after all. Orgasms can relieve all kinds of pain—including pain from arthritis, pain after surgery and even pain during childbirth.

3. A pig’s orgasm can last 30 minutes.

4. According to the Kinsey Institute, the average speed of ejaculate during a male orgasm is 45 km/h (in contrast, sperm, travel less than 4 centimetres in15 minutes of intense swimming).

5. Ladies, there are plenty of things to gripe about when it comes to getting older, but as you age you get more orgasms and they are bigger and better.

6. Studies show that males orgasm 59% of the time while their partner is screaming in ecstasy, and only 2% of the time while he or she’s lying quietly, counting the holes in the acoustic board in the ceiling.

7. According to a university of Kansas study, 25% of guys say they have faked.

8. The most recorded orgasms in an hour: 134 for a woman and 16 for a man.

9. In When Harry Met Sally, the woman who says ‘I'll have what she's having’ after Sally's faked orgasm is director Rob Reiner's mother.

10. You can have an orgasm when you are dead. By stimulating the sacral nerve root (the headquarters for orgasms, along the spinal nerve) with an electrode, scientists can trigger an orgasm, even in the legally dead.

Image: Jenny Solomon

Swearing 101

There’s no such thing as Swearing 101 but by the time we’re about five, we all know which words, if used in front of Grandma, will result in a paddle with a wooden spoon.

Did you know your brain processes swearing differently to the way it handles other words?

In early childhood, you can show strong emotion by crying. As children (especially boys) grow up, we discourage them from crying and swearing steps in as acceptable stress relief. In one study, volunteers who cursed could tolerate pain for nearly 50% longer than volunteers who didn’t.

In most people, the left hemisphere of the brain is in charge of language. The right hemisphere creates the emotional content of language.

Language processing is a ‘higher’ brain function and takes place in the cerebral cortex (this is the thin layer of grey matter about the size of a formal dinner napkin that covers the surface of each cerebral hemisphere).

Emotion and instinct are ‘lower’ brain functions and take place deep inside the brain.

When you’re about to speak, the brain generally comes up with a bunch of phonemes (units of sound) and has to put them together to make a word. This would be like having several different parts to a Happy Meal toy and having to put them together before producing a plastic car.

But the brain processes swearing in the lower regions, along with emotion and instinct. Instead of processing a swearword as a series of sound units that must be combined to form a word, the brain stores swear words as whole units (a squeaky rubber Bart Simpson head with no assembly required). So, the brain doesn't need the left hemisphere's help to process expletives.

Swearing specifically involves:
• the limbic system, which also houses memory, emotion and basic behavior – this is the system primates use to vocalise
• the basal ganglia, which play a large role in impulse control and motor functions.

So, swearing is a motor activity with an emotional component.

And magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) studies show that the higher and lower parts of the brain can actually struggle with each other when a person swears.

Shit, if you swear, you’re a chimp.

Five facts about swearing

1. Most swear words are either deistic (related to religion) or visceral (related to the human body and its functions) – there are also racial slurs but I think these are slightly different.

2. Swearing originates from early forms of word magic – people believed that spoken words could curse or bless people or otherwise affect the world – Voldemort!

3. Men swear more than women (and they often do it to seem more blokey).

4. In studies where people must identify the colour a word is written in (instead of the word itself), swear words distract the participants from colour recognition.

5. You can remember swearwords about four times better than other words.


Image: Michael Elliott

Lazarus clothing

It's the old story. Last night, you didn’t iron anything to wear to work today – you watched four episodes of your latest vampire/forensic/reality show instead. Half asleep, you throw together an outfit. The look basically hangs together but you can’t find a jacket that works. You reach down the back of the wardrobe and – voila! – the perfect thing.

Okay, it’s the perfect thing except that it hasn’t seen the light of day for three years and it was old then; you’ll need to hang it in the steamy bathroom while you shower to lose the wrinkles and waft it through a cloud of deo to get rid of the musty smell; and how long has that button been missing?; also, you have never liked it that much – it doesn’t quite fit right, the sleeves are a fraction short and the colour is a couple of shades darker than you would prefer. But it will do. Won’t it?

Come off it, Not-very-deep in your heart, you know that jacket is out of style – hell, was it ever in style? Nobody is going to tell you that you look great today and you’re going to feel vaguely yuck until you peel the wretched thing off tonight (and throw it in the bin, if you have any sense.)

Lazarus clothes are those items that we resurrect again and again. Somehow they fly under the radar when we’re doing wardrobe purges. And somehow, they always end up back in the wardrobe ‘just in case’.

But you know what? Nine times out of ten, they should be thrown out. My theory is, if you don’t have it, you can’t wear it. And that’s probably a good thing. You’ll be forced to do without or buy something more suitable to replace it.

So, when should you keep clothes?

For a start, you’re unlikely to keep anything forever (except maybe your wedding dress, if you’re the sentimental type and you don’t get divorced) and, even then, you’d be better off selling it and buying yourself a nice piece of jewellery.

You can keep classic pieces – good quality wardrobe basics in styles and shades that flatter you (Levis, a Burberry trenchcoat, a Chanel LBD) but throw them out when they are showing signs of wear. Also, replace them when the classic style is significantly updated (yes, even classics change over time).

You can keep unique/rare pieces if they’re in good nick – a gorgeous retro velvet smoking jacket in exactly your colour, a one-off skirt tailor-made for you, vintage shoes that precisely match your favourite evening bag.

You can also keep accessories you love.

You can even keep ‘fat clothes’ or ‘skinny clothes’ that you can’t wear right now if they fit in to these categories, but box them up and store them until you can wear them again so they don't clutter up your wardrobe.

And, allow yourself to have one box of ‘maybes’ at any given time (I'm talking a copy paper box, not a shipping container). Pack them up, put them in the garage, and if you don’t need them in the next 12 months, turf the box – without opening it.

Luckily, the pink jacket I’m wearing this morning is a rare retro piece and not a fashion disaster. I know. The boss already told me I’m looking great today. And I'm pretty sure she wasn't being sarasctic.

The difference between 14 and 40

  

A lot of things change between 14 and 40: jeans are no longer part of a dressy outfit – even with heels; socks and soap from your auntie for your birthday are 'handy' not 'lame'; and most of the time you spend on a computer is for actual work, not Face Waste .

The teen and I wrote a couple of lists separately and were delighted to find at least some common ground. Bring on the Baygon.

Fourteen:

5 things I can’t live without

1. phone (for texting)
2. iPod (music wherever you want)
3. hair straightener
4. Chocolate Teddy Bear biscuits
5. mirror

5 things I’d happily never set eyes on again:

1. broccoli, Brussels sprouts and cauliflower
2. a maths textbook (900 pages of misery)
3. dust pan and broom (sweeping is the worst chore)
4. Miss Boyd (grumpy teacher)
5. spiders

Forty:

5 things I can’t live without

1. iPhone (for everything)
2. car
3. L’Oreal (not because I'm worth it, more because I'm past it)
4. credit card
5. gym

5 things I’d happily never set eyes on again:

1. alarms and reminders
2. pantyhose
3. my reflection first thing in the morning in the magnifying mirror (maybe I shouldn't have had that laser surgery - soft focus was so much kinder)
4. credit card statement (did I really need those shoes?)
5. spiders

The ups and downs of pantyhose

Do you love sexy, silky pantyhose?

I don’t.

Ernest G. Rice (inventor and sadist) ought to be hanged by the neck with nylon for having come up with this hideous garment. But, hey, there wouldn’t be much point, seeing as he’s already carked it.

Apparently ‘spandex and elastane are much more comfortable than the original nylon’. This was clearly written by a man because, in a woman’s world, ‘pantyhose’ and ‘comfortable’ never belong in the same sentence.

How can you be comfortable when a band is digging in to your skin in the place where the undergarment sticks out above the top of your skirt? Hmm, yummy: thick synthetic fabric and red welty skin dents above your waistline, Sunshine.

Sheesh, at least stockings (with a garter belt and a bit of lace) have some sex appeal to make up for your legs feeling like they’re impersonating a pair of about-to-explode sausages. But stockings do tend to cost about three times as much as pantyhose, you can’t get them at the supermarket and their destructibility increases with every dollar you spend on them.

Tights and leggings are alternatives, of course, as are bare legs. Though, from the 1960s, the miniskirt supposedly made pantyhose ‘essential’. Clearly whoever alleges this has never walked through the Elizabeth Street mall on a spring day – either that, or all the visitors to said mall missed the memo.

Some pantyhose have an inbuilt instant liposuction effect in the form of panels that squish bulges into weird and unnatural flatness – which is fine, as long as you don’t take your clothes off in front of anyone.

Ditto if you’re wearing support pantyhose (they’re meant to improve circulation and reduce leg pain, swelling and discomfort). Doctors are now advising some men to wear these. (Great, we'll have a whole swathe of medically induce Brian Adams impersonators.)

Even regular pantyhose make foreplay more like an army camp obstacle course and impede getting to the main event.

Trying to put pantyhose on – especially if you’re getting dressed in a hurry or in the dark – is like wrestling a pair of aggressive giant spaghetti noodles.

Pantyhose do, I grant you, even out your skin tone and offer some concealment for leg blemishes (like that bruise where you walked in to the table after the fourth champagne, winter stubble, razor burn, freckles, unfortunate ankle tattoos or varicose veins). And they are a great emergency stand in for a spray tan if your legs are white enough to illuminate the MCG.

Pantyhose also provide a slight warmth factor in cool weather. But ‘this warmth might mean people who wear them every day might risk developing; yeast infections, urinary and bacteria problems’. (Um, okay, I read this somewhere but I speak from experience when I say this is crap.)

Surfing? Pantihose will protect you from jellyfish stings.

Robbing a servo? Maybe go with semi-opaque tights.

Brightly coloured pantyhose or any pantyhose of more than 15 denier are generally fashion disasters and should be avoided unless you’re over 80 (especially if you're a man). It's black or skin tone. That's it.

Patterned pantyhose can work but only under very limited circumstances.

And pantyhose of any kind look tacky with open toed shoes. They just do. I don’t know why people debate about this.

Finally, if you’re going to a job interview, who cares what you think about pantyhose? It’s about what your prospective employer thinks. Girls, be on the safe side and wear the hose. Boys, maybe don’t.

15 signs you have no friends

1. When Kermit says, ‘Hi ho, everybody,’ you say ‘Hi ho, Kermit’.

2. You wait anxiously by the phone around dinner time, hoping for calls from telemarketers  –  you know them by name.

3. You are a world champion Solitaire player.

4. All the contacts in your phone start with 1300, 1800 or – worse – 1900.

5. You pretend to be lost just to talk to someone.

6. You check out the mannequins in the Country Road window as potential buddies.

7. You sign up for longitudinal studies because you can count on the researchers calling you back every year.

8. You go to your local pizzeria, DVD store or bottleshop and say ‘It’s my turn to choose, you chose last time’, out loud to yourself.

9. You think James Taylor's You’ve Got a Friend is aspirational.

10. You think the Do not call register's for wimps.

11. Someone tries to rob you at knife point but gives up when you finish talking about your religious beliefs and start on your career plans.

12. You drive around looking for speed cameras and roadworks just so you can call the radio station and talk to someone about the traffic.

13. Your favourite drink is Solo.

14.  You look for crowded restaurants so you can share a table with someone.

15. You look forward to death threats from your stalker.


If any of these signs appear in your life, just change your name to Nigel and be done with it.

Bring on the bread armour

When I go to the supermarket, the bread section is first, so I carefully place my loaves in the separate compartment at the end of the trolley. I baby them along as though they are crystal champagne flutes or fluffy newborn chicks, not even placing light items like paper towels or bags of lettuce on them.

When I get to the checkout, I gently add the bread to the conveyer belt last and, after the purchase, I position the bread back in the separate compartment on the way to the car.

I lay the bag with the bread in the backseat, away from the boot full of other groceries.

And when I get home, I carry the bread tenderly to the kitchen where it can be safely put away.

I hate squashed bread.

This is not because I am neurotic or anal. This is because once bread is mangled, there is no way to re-fluff it. Bread is not Nerf. It is warped for life.

I freeze my bread.

Have you ever tried to pry a slice of bread from a misshapen frozen loaf? Sometimes it works. Most times it doesn’t – even if you lever the slice loose with a knife. Frozen slices of deformed bread break. Then the broken edges burn in the toaster and set off the smoke alarm (or burn your house down if the battery is flat and you’re hanging out the washing).

So, that’s why when, after 15 aisles of care and protection, the thoughtless checkout bloke mindlessly squeezes the loaf in an almighty paw or crams it in to a bag beside a couple of jumbo tins of dog food and a bottle of soda, I want to smack him.

That’s why, when the backseat completes an inexplicable and inconvenient dive (probably scoring about  9.3 but smashing the bread), I want to scream.

And why, when a kitchen helper clearly subscribes to the 'speed and pressure' theory of fitting the bread into the overstuffed freezer, I feel like kicking someone’s head in.

I do not want to make breadcrumbs with it, bake a bread and butter pudding with it or feed the ducks with it. I want to freeze it. I want to toast it without needing a fire extinguisher.

A bent sense of humour is admirable. A bent loaf of bread is unacceptable.

I wish bakers would package bread in something robust to alleviate my angst.

Image: Paul