How Not to Get a Man to Fancy You

I have realised that I’ve been jumping the gun. All this time when I’ve been asking ‘How to Tell if a Man Fancies You’ I should really be starting somewhere near the beginning (traditional I know) and asking ‘How to Get a Man to Fancy You.’

I’ve done some research.

Looking at some basic Newtonian laws of the universe, I have discovered this:

‘Every point mass attracts every other point mass by a force pointing along the line intersecting both points.’

Obviously points are important.
As is mass.

It goes on to say
‘The force is proportional to the product of the two masses and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between the point masses.’

So, we also discover that proportionality and distance and squares are fairly crucial.

Therefore (and I worked this out all by myself using extrapolation, logic and absolutely no calculus), according to Newton, the real trick of being attractive to the opposite mass is:

Be a large, comely ballet dancer on tip-toes and stand very near your target person holding an upside-down square.

I have actually been out in the field testing this hypothesis.

This is what happened:

I had trouble being large so I opted for being full instead. Part of the logic was that if sports people do carb loading then surely it would work for lonely people too. So I ate a large meal of pasta, roast potatoes and toast.

The comely bit didn’t come quite naturally either. Not to be defeated I settled for comedy as it was only one letter different and after all, it was possible, nay probable, that my target mass was short-sighted. Well I am anyway.

I had a tutu. Pink. Fucking spot-on perfect.

The tip-toes was slightly prohibitive because of the boots but I did my best by standing on a couple of willing molluscs.

The target bit was actually the most difficult as he simply didn’t seem to be around. This didn’t worry me because on a Newtonian Gravitational Scale nearby could be up to a couple of hundred light-years away.

My upside-down square was easy. I held, in my most sexy manner, a road-sign depicting a man with a large umbrella-shaped penis.

I waited. In the field. Wearing my tutu, my wellies, my red nose. Holding my sign. Waiting. Not very much happened aside from the snails becoming uncomfortable and deciding to go off for a bonk without me standing on them.

After a bit (about five hours) I realised what the problem was.

On a Newtonian Gravitational Scale, even if I was (and I was) stunningly attractive and exerting a quite frankly irresistible pull, the distance (which could be up to a couple of light-years away) my prospective target mass needed to travel was going to take some time. Possibly days. And that’s if he was running. Fast.

I am still waiting. But at least I’m not hungry. And the sheep like pink.

How Never to Innuendo Again

I’ve been updating my Google iPage. As you may recall last time I did this, ah, I can’t recall, still, I did something.

This time I felt it was time to become more intellectual, better read and generally cerebral.

Gone is the fortune cookie who was always telling me that I was popular/brilliant/gorgeous. Despite moments of being on a low ebb, flattery from bakery products just wasn’t working for me.

Gone is the horoscope that told me what to do and think as doing and thinking seemed to just work by itself.

Gone are the girlie snowflakes, butterflies and leaves that floated across my screen in a disorientating confusing confusion of seasons.

This is what I’ve put there now:
Place of the day to see before you die
Scientific American headlines
New Scientist headlines
Einstein Quote of the day
How to of the day
National Geographic picture of the day
And
The weather

This is all going to lead me to be a better and cleverer person. I can read all this stuff and be inspired to write grown-up blog posts that are no longer thinly disguised metaphors for sex.

This is what I learnt today:
Before you die you should go to Jamaica and lie on a beach (possibly naked).
How to swallow a pill.
Scientists are designing prosthetics for men.
Fizzy water powered ‘super’ geysers on Mars
How to tell if an sausage is bad.
Birds gotta fly
The sun is shining
Levitating joystick improves feedback
There will soon be wormholes in Geneva
And
Size matters.

I believe my readers and I are about to lead richer, more intellectual, less innuendoed and generally more fulfilled lives.

How Not to Solve Another Great Science Mystery

I am on a crusade to link science with life and life with science (you probably noticed that). Thus, using only some common sense, some imagination and a small carrot I have solved yet another of life’s great mysteries. Physicists and blog writers have been pondering this question for many a passing moment.

This is the question:

Does Dark Matter Exist?

This is what happened:

One day man looked up into the night skies. Woman was busy doing useful stuff like feeding babies, growing stuff, inventing crochet and reading philosophy. Man noticed something. That the universe was holding itself together. Man believed in gravity (mostly because they had proved it through the phenomena of falling balls).

The problem was that there didn’t seem to be enough stuff to make enough gravity to hold the universe together. So, and here’s the brilliant part, they invented more stuff. But they couldn’t see the stuff. So they called it Dark Matter. There is still a deal of debate amongst physicists as to whether Dark Matter actually even exists.

This is the digression:

The problem with physicists (and I know because I just made scrambled eggs for one) is that they seldom consult the ordinary woman on the street (or in the kitchen cooking scrambled eggs). Common sense is not a prevailing attribute of this breed of scientist. My physicist, for example, can do some very difficult sums, write a lot of letters and symbols on pieces of paper and strew the aforementioned pieces of paper around the house, she can even do a back somersault on a four inch beam, but ask her to discover the use of dusters, pour water from a jug just into a glass and not onto the table, or make scrambled eggs, and she is completely flummoxed.

These are the answers:

So, Dark Matter – does it exist?
Yes, most definitely. Think coal, chocolate, the insides of Wellington boots and the works of Sartre.

Does Dark Matter hold the universe together? –
No. If it did then
1. We would see it if we used one of those very stylish torches advertised in Sunday supplements that shine a very long way.
2. We wouldn’t understand a word the universe was saying.
and
3. The universe would smell quite different, a bit like warm feet pudding.


Then, if not Dark Matter, what exactly is holding the universe together?

And this is where physicists are really going to kick themselves for never having asked the woman on the street, in the kitchen or me before.

The answer is so blindingly obvious. It is the same thing that holds everything else together, is the answer, is all you need, makes the world go round and is a triumph of imagination over intelligence. Love.

After all, gravity, essentially, is the mutual attraction of two bodies.


Next week: Does Dark Matter? The sex lives of the stars.

How Not to Treat a Wormhole – or The Future in G-spots

I have solved yet another great mystery of science.

The Theys of the New Scientist are sometimes a tad blinkered. Or possibly they don’t read the New Scientist. Yet I have discovered that with the right interpretation, analytical technique and slightly skewed reading there are many more answers enclosed in this bijou publication than it might first appear.

This is what happened:

It was reported that Geneva was to be the beginning of time. To be more precise 2008 Geneva was to be the beginning of time. Because soon, in the very heart of this majestic, pretentious and expensive city, they are going to make a wormhole. The first ever wormhole here on earth. Exciting eh?

Wormholes are handy for a number of reasons –
For worms to live in
For the quick transport of worms from one place to another
For baby worms to hang out
For teenage worms to hide in for a smoke
And
For time travel.

So, all time travellers will be able now (given that construction of the aforementioned wormhole goes according to schedule and budget) be able to visit 2008 Geneva.

Here comes the interesting bit – What would a traveller from the future want to take away as a souvenir from 2008 Geneva? Chocolate? Swiss Army Knives? The spurty fountain that for some reason lives in the lake? Possibly. Yet possibly not. For surely the travellers from a distant time would be after that very elixir of life, not slightly overly milky chocolate, not small red items to break one’s fingernails on, not even ejaculating lakes (although almost). No, any sensible traveller from the future would be looking for what we are all (or me anyway) are looking for – the perfect orgasm.

Here comes the really clever bit - a more careful reading of the New Scientist has revealed that in fact the time travellers have already been and removed the souvenirs. And why no one except me has noticed this is quite inexplicable. In that very edition, probably on the next page, was the now infamous article about the missing G-spots.

That is where they all went. And this is backed up totally by scientific and anecdotal evidence – It has been shown that 70% of G-spots are missing. When my G-spot was stolen I was actually in Geneva. AND the man who stole my G-spot has also gone missing – back to the future obviously.