Today is National Orgasm Day. At least in the US, UK, Australia, and perhaps others. According to Wikipedia, it was (not surprisingly) started in Brazil, where it’s celebrated on August 8th, and it’s also apparently celebrated on November 18th (though it doesn’t say where, exactly). I’m just happy to learn that there are multiple Orgasm Days (though multiple-orgasm days would be even better). Some fun facts (according to this story over at Glamour) include…
1. People who smoke weed have more orgasms. Like, way more. Pot smokers surveyed were 109 percent more likely to have multiple orgasms.
2. Being politically active pays off. People who are more passionate about politics have more multiple orgasms and more orgasms in general.
Presumably because if you’re paying attention to politics, you realize just how fucked you are.
4. Our parents are getting off more than us. Millennials have 12 percent fewer orgasms than boomers. Womp-womp.
Apparently Glamour is staffed by (or at least read by) a bunch of sexually frustrated kids.
And of course…
7. Tech nerds are doing something right. Despite what stereotypes might lead you to believe, people working in computers and electronics have more orgasms than any other profession.
Of course they tend to be alone with their electronic, um, equipment while having them but, hey, an O’s an O, right?
Anyhow, enjoy the day, and, however you manage it, I encourage you to celebrate over and over again.
Our nesting Robins (both the “east” – located above our kitchen window – and “west” – located on the downspout by the garage – pairs) are now on their third set of babies. Or eggs – I don’t think either of these batches has hatched yet. Being ignorant in the way of Robins, I was surprised when the second bunch appeared a while back so I looked it up and, by golly, apparently as soon as the first bunch hatches the dad escorts them to another nest and the mom gets busy on the next batch. And once the new ones are hatched, dad helps feed the young until they fledge (Robins are clearly not Republicans). According to the Internet, they can have two or three sets in a season (Robins, that is, not Republicans – though of course “pro-life” Republicans just force the females involved to get abortions). It’s not quite August, so I’m wondering if we might get four broods out of these. I have to admit, I’m a little tired of getting the stink-eye every time I walk past but I obviously don’t have the heart to wipe out the nests until I’m sure they’re done for the year.
What they do after they’re done breeding, I’m not sure. I always thought Robins went south for the winter. A first Robin sighting was supposedly a sure sign of spring (though around here, it was usually a sign of a soon to be hungry, shivering, and pissed-off Robin). But my recent Ornithological research informs me that, among other things (such as the controversy – or debate, at least – over whether or not to capitalize the word “Robin” and other bird species names; does everything have to be so fucking complicated?). Robins supposedly don’t go anywhere for the winter (well, except for the Canadian ones – though our President will no doubt put an end to that – I’ll miss the Hummingbirds once he cracks down on illegal migration from Mexico and South America). They just flit about, switching from the summer fare of worms and insects to their winter diet of fruit. Where, exactly, they get fruit in the winter up here is beyond me (also, I don’t recall seeing Robins in January around here, though I’ll be keeping my eyes open this year), but the Internet doesn’t lie so it must be true.
I only hope they weren’t nesting in the rather large tree that came crashing down in my backyard the other day. Though it probably didn’t really “crash” but more slowly keeled over until my fence stopped it. Otherwise, the fence would be toast. After a few weeks of hot, dry weather around here, we’ve had several days of hard rain. This not only contributed to my damp (and by damp, I mean “wet”) basement but apparently softened the ground enough to have this poor tree give up the ghost.
So it was time to drag out the chainsaw. Unfortunately, the oiler doesn’t work (stupid “auto” oiler – give me a manual button to push once in a while). So I tried to take it apart to see if the pickup tube was clogged or something, but I don’t have the tool to take the clutch assembly off (turns out, you need one of those), so I ordered that and a new oiler and managed to put the chain back on bass-ackwards (really doesn’t cut very well that way) and chopped the thing up enough for now, though I’m gonna have to work around it while I cut the grass.
And then I put my fancy new LED work lights on the tractor (the old ones stuck up like Mickey Mouse ears, and I kept bashing ’em on tree branches), but they don’t seem to work (did I mention that everything seems to be a pain in the ass these days?) so I said “fuck it” and decided to go and sit under a different tree and not drink beer. I haven’t had a beer in two years now, and, frankly, it sucks. Sitting outside and not drinking beer is really quite boring. And the bugs are a lot more annoying, too. If it weren’t for Wi-Fi, I don’t know what I’d do.
Heh. Somewhere in here, there’s a setting about closing comments on a post after a certain length of time. I’m not sure what length of time that is, or even where the setting is. But apparently that limit has been reached, which only goes to show that I’ve been extremely lacking in writing posts. And thanks to Vernon for the head’s up. Anyhow, I will attempt to be more prolific in the future. Like, more than once a month. Or at least find and change that setting. Ah, found it!
