Sexy Genarians

Oh good grief, here we come again:

Sex is best in your SIXTIES: Survey finds 66-year-olds are the most satisfied in bed – and sex therapists say it makes sense
The eighth annual Singles in America survey was taken by more than 5,000 single people in the US.
It found single women are having the best sex at 66 years old and men at 64.
Sex therapist Dr Madeleine Castellanos said lovemaking is more fulfilling for single men and women in their 60s because they are experienced, they know what they want and are free to explore the dimensions of their sexuality.
While many think younger people have a better time knocking boots, the recent survey revealed it actually gets better with age.
In fact, a study published by National Commission on Aging found women, in particular, said sex in their 70s was at least as satisfying or more satisfying physically than it was in their 40s.

As someone who’s in his sixties, I’ll let you know as soon as it happens. (Actually, that’s a lie: I never talk about my sex life, such as it is, because I can’t imagine anything more boring.) I would imagine, however, that having a little knee-trembler with any of the following sexagenarians might be quite fun:

Cherie Lunghi:

Lynda Carter:

Sela Ward:

Marina Sirtis:

Jane Seymour:

Dana Delany:

…and finally, Kim Cattrall:

Swinging sixties, indeed. And if none of the above caused at least some parts of your body to tingle, you’re in deep trouble, buddy, regardless of your age.

Oh, and just to be inclusive, a token trio of sexagenarian men for my Lady Readers:

Liam Neeson:

Chris Noth:

…and Kevin Costner:

Or did I get this last lot wrong, Ladies? (I have no idea what men are attractive to women, unless I know the size of their bank balances. Then, I’m infallible.)

 

 

Another Train Smash Woman

There is a plausible theory that any woman who appears in a “reality” TV show is a candidate for the label of “Train Smash Woman” (definition here). But even among reality TV shows, the execrable TOWIE (The Only Way Is Essex) on Brit TV is one long litany of Train Smashdom.

Allow me, then, to present a splendid example of the TOWIE Train Smash:  Lauren Goodger. Here’s what she looked like when she first appeared on the show:

Yup… there are distinct elements of a Train Smash there. But she couldn’t stay like that, of course; no Train Smash Woman qualifies for the label unless there is a massive change in tonnage / body shape, and questionable life decisions. And here we go, first with the body:

The last pic, by the way, was after liposuction, which she had done after seeing the bikini pic.

But here’s the best one of her:

Now there’s the question of the curlers in her hair while out in public, of course. But that’s not especially Train Smashy. This is: the picture was taken when she was on her way to visit her boyfriend… in prison.

Yes, folks: that right there is the sine qua non of questionable life decisions for any woman. Which is why Ms. Goodger is currently atop my list of Train Smash Women.

 

Stranger Than Fiction

Ripped from the headlines comes this beauty:

Ron Jeremy is BANNED from porn awards in Las Vegas amid sexual assault allegations

Wait a minute… in an industry which is the very manifestation of sexual exploitation of women, one of its leading performers is being castigated for groping?

No wonder The Onion is going out of business.


An aside: shows you how out of touch I am. I’m in Vegas right now, and never knew there was a porn convention going on. And in case you’re wondering: I’m sticking to the gun thing at SHOT.

Just A Minute, Sparky

From our mole in Scandinavia comes this little gem:

Seriously? You mean just laughing at this bullshit would send me to jail?

…and:

And who is this priceless little feministical?

So all that study in the hard sciences, and young Ashleigh is analyzing the  implications of gender differential in flatulence?

Send me to jail now, Judge Sotomayor. Because I’m never going to quit making fun of these spoiled First-World fuckups and their loony little “philosophy”, ever.

Beta Royale

And so it begins… the pussification of Harry.

Prince Harry will not be taking part in the traditional royal Boxing Day shoot because he doesn’t want to upset his fiancee Meghan Markle. The 33-year-old was just 12 when he took part in his first festive shoot but has pulled out because Miss Markle is a keen animal rights campaigner. Miss Markle, 36, doesn’t like hunting and Prince Harry is said to have shocked gamekeepers at Sandringham after he informed them he won’t be there on December 26.

Couple of points need to be made, here.

I have it on good authority that Harry is an excellent shot, and as the article indicates, he’s been doing this for two decades — i.e. most of his life. Why should he care what this totty thinks about hunting? He’s a bloody royal, FFS, and she’s the one who gets the most out of their upcoming nuptials. Hell, he can get pretty much any woman he wants — and better-looking than her, for sure. (He certainly has in the past; here’s Cressida Bonas, for one.)

So why he has to accommodate this Markle woman’s silly nonsense is beyond me.

She’s a “part-time vegan” and an animal-rights activist, according to reports. Oh, isn’t that special. Well, he’s a member of a royal family, a decorated war veteran and a keen birdshooter, which I think is a lot more special than some two-a-penny divorced actress.

I never cared about this relationship one way or the other, because it’s none of my business and celebrity stuff bores me to tears. But I get truly irritated when a woman comes into a family with traditional values — and it’s hard to think of a family with more traditional values than Harry’s lot — and wants to make everyone change around her. Arrogant bint.

I always used to think that the penchant for royals to marry other royals (or at least nobility) was silly. But the more I see of it, the more I think it makes sense: the odds are always better if you marry into your own class. No good is going to come of this marriage; you heard it here first.

Dangerous Business

So not only can sex make you blind, the Daily Mail reports, it can make you deaf as well — or worse:

[B]lindness isn’t the only terrible injury Cupid can inflict. The medical world has recorded a catalogue of romance-related catastrophes that can leave ardent lovers deaf, paralysed, clinically depressed — or even dead.

My favorite of all the woes listed in the article is “lover’s knee”.

Arthritis specialist Dr Robert S. Pinals, of Rutgers University in the U.S., was searching desperately for a cause when he asked his patient about her bedroom habits. ‘Always on my knees,’ she replied.
The patient and her partner had first tried the position a year previously and liked it so much they subsequently indulged ‘several times a day… often on a hard surface,’ reported Dr Pinals.
‘Abandonment of this position was recommended. With some reluctance the patient agreed,’ he reports. ‘Two months later, she said the knee pain had almost completely disappeared.’

I once suffered from massive rug burns after a romp on a bearskin rug, and when we transferred our activities to the bed, the next morning the sheets looked as though I’d slaughtered a small animal in there. [Pro tip: doing it on a bear skin is one of those things, like beach sex, where the concept is far more romantic than the reality. Bear fur is coarse and scratchy. Stick to cotton sheets.]

Of course, sometimes rug burns are a necessary evil:

Of course, that’s not a politically-correct image these days, is it? (Which is why I posted it, duh.)