Scratching my own funny bone for shits and giggles. Lampooning books, music and being a single woman over 40. Recording observations with an almost Seinfeldian obsession for the minutiae of life. Things can get sweary around here. You understand.

Friday, July 9, 2010


I’ve just finished reading the appalling 'Great Sex Weekend' which appears to have been written for persons who need instructions to breathe. What a woeful waste of a great afternoon! The only way this book could be remotely useful is if you’d spent your entire life in Amish country. Even your average Joe could learn this stuff from M-rated movies with naughty bits. As suggested by the title this book is a step-by-step instructional guide to having amazing nookie all weekend. Apparently the authors are well known experts who have trialled their theories with an army of ‘road testers’ whose feedback is littered throughout the book in an attempt to strengthen the validity of their recommendations. The book begins by tackling all of the minutiae involved in organizing a weekend away. *yawns* I found myself getting a soft-on. The authors recommend that if you have children and are unable to secure family or babysitters to look after them you should ‘approach a couple that you think might be in a similar situation’ (that is if anyone seriously goes around telling people that don’t have enough sex) ‘Show them the book, tell them a bit about your plans for an intimate weekend and see if they are interested in swapping child-care favours. They can borrow the book after your weekend and maybe even some of the items that you bought to enhance your own getaway.’ Well no thanks. I dare say that nobody is going to want to borrow a half-used bottle of canola oil and a sweaty old shower curtain. ‘Here Janet…have my twelve inch strap on to try with Gary…’ FFS!

Then the fun really begins. ‘Just as your car needs tuning periodically, every relationship needs to be recharged now and then. Your relationship needs tune-ups that not only keep it going but keep it humming. Think of our play-by-play guide as a handy manual to use again and again to maintain a higher level of sexual desire and satisfaction. But don't feel restricted by our advice.’ And therein lays the problem with earnest instructional genres. The author invariably operates under the assumption that people are mindless drones that will follow their advice to the letter and consequently feel compelled to include constant reminders that the reader can ‘pick and choose'. What a tedious waste of page real estate. So for all this ‘freedom of interpretation’ I’ve been granted the authors are still hell bent on spelling out a rigid timetable for this so called ‘tune-up your sex life weekend’. Friday night: leisurely walk, dinner interlude, reminiscing and industrial scrubbing of genitals followed by orgasms but no intercourse. Saturday morning: snuggle before breakfast in bed, more industrial scrubbing of the genitals followed by intercourse in no less than six different positions. Saturday night: swap fantasies during hors d’oeuvres, role play a prostitute pulling tricks over drinks, avoid films with too many gynecological close-ups and root like rabbits in your daughter’s cheer leading uniform. Sunday morning: whisper sweet nothings over breakfast, shower separately, strap on that twelve inch dildo and go for gold in the verbal sex Olympics. I want to (adverb) (verb) your (adjective) (noun). I want you to (adverb) (verb) my (adjective) (noun). Sunday afternoon: scrutinize every detail from the weekend and offer each other a critique.

HER: You just thrashed around for five minutes and fell asleep.

HIM: That’s because you laid there like a log you fat blimp.

Sounds like university to me.

Anyway, it isn’t difficult to believe this book was written by two women. And two very cautious girls at that. By incorporating contrived ‘testimonials’ from third party reports they conveniently avoid having to write anything from firsthand experience which seems a shame. The clichés roll thick and fast.
‘‘I told him that I frequently fantasized that we’re making love outdoors. When we got back from dinner we had sex on a blanket on the bathroom floor with the heat lamp and pretended that we were outside in the hot sun”

“We gave each other full body massages and did food play. He dripped honey down my body saying ‘not that you need to be any sweeter’"

Oh PUHLEEEEASE! It gets worse.

“I overcame my resistance to oral sex when my lover sent me a steamy note that read: ‘Deep pools of viscous you – I long to go there.’"

Is it not enough that we must endure having our privates referred to as small hairy mammals without bringing glue into the equation? Any man that said that to me while on the job would find himself set upon in a combination of a rolling rugby ruck and a SWAT team manoeuvre until I had him in a grip that would neuter a bison…oops...sorry boys.

“My husband and I watched Jerry Maguire and it got me really aroused. When we were spent he told me I was his Sex Goddess!”

“My wife and I danced to Melissa Etheridge. Soon the action moved to the couch. It was really hot.”

I’m sorry but anyone that recommends watching Jerry Maguire or any other Tom Cruise movie as fodder for getting aroused deserves to be damned in hell with ‘show me the money!’ as their ring tone and poked in the both eyes with Lucifer’s trident. And while we're at it: anyone that recommends listening to Melissa Etheridge deserves a similar fate…only in a more hurty place. Last time I listened, Melissa’s catalogue was wholly based on personal suffering and consuming human flesh. Her lyrics feature drowning in desire, shocking and electrifying someone, tasting sweat, quenching her thirst, feeling the steel of red-hot truth and enduring nights of lust and fire while asking to be stripped and cut by the hand of death until she bleeds in Hell. Not to mention slaps and stings and foul night air. Combine those sentiments with an Ovation guitar (which incidentally, sounds to me like dung beetles being bitch-slapped inside a Tupperware bowl) and her music is taken to a whole new carnivorous level. Yep. That's the kinda gear that makes me frisky.

In the chapter on purchasing sex aids via mail order one man happily reports that his mother-in-law discovered the catalogue and pinched it from the coffee table for her own purposes. Bollocks! I would suggest anyone that needed to read this book to obtain advice about sex would not be inclined to casually swap sex tips with their mother-in-law.

Then there is the predictable chapter on recording the proceedings with the aid of electronics. “If you’re concerned that the videotape or photo may fall into the wrong hands and cause you embarrassment, plan to destroy them at the end of your weekend.” Now assuming this book as been written for married couples and not those partaking in casual rooting (Lermontov I’m looking at you!) do you honestly think your husband is going to want to share this with his mates? Here boys…check out my old lady’s wobbly arse!

Now if I have one serious criticism of this book is that it works on the presumption that women never initiate sex and that one day on the weekend should be declared the Sadie Hawkins Day. This line of thinking has become so ubiquitous that I fear it may just be the root of all the problems between the sexes. It has been my experience in long term relationships that men and women equally make the overtures in the initial stages but after the shine rubs off the relationship, it stagnates as each person waits for the other to make the first move. You can understand why. I love it when a man just ‘has to have me’ and is so confident that rejection isn’t even a concern. I’m certain men feel the same way about women seducing them. So what are we all waiting for uh? I reckon we should all just be really honest and confess that the bloom is off the rose…and that we love the intimacy but want an open relationships and be free to love lots of people. Now how good would that be? I guess some of you might think I'm a dirty filthy hippy. Well tough.

Interestingly enough the best advice I’ve ever read about sex was written by a man. I’ll never forget the day I read that chapter for the first time. I wept. THIS was the kind of sex I was missing out on. I’ve yet to find a partner willing to read it nor find a way of expressing it. You know how reticent the male species can be about accepting advice; especially from a woman. Now apart from being a traffic-cop in bed, how else can you get your man to lift his game? I've tried the encouraging approach. I’d appreciate the advice.


Dr Yobbo said...


I know JB and Flinty hate hearing this - JB wrote something along those lines in Off Ones Tits - but there was a hell of a lot of useful advice in How To Be A Man and chief among which was the sections on Rooting, Usage and Deployment Thereof, which has been adopted, adapted and improved by Yr Correspondent. In particular the comparison of cunnilingus to eating green vegies: you might not enjoy it but it's in your best interests for long-term health and wellbeing.

Lou said...

"...pools of viscous you" sounds like an yeast infection to me *gag*

Bondiboy66 said...

Ovation guitars sound like 'dung beetles being bitch slapped inside a Tupperware bowl'!! LOL fucken! I shan't be rushing out to buy one with a recommendation like that.

Flinthart said...

Doc Yob... I've got a sneaking suspicion NatV may in fact be referencing the book you mention. I believe she may have commented once back on Jspace that she felt the advice therein was reasonably sound.

The real clue was the blue hyperlink to "How To Be A Man" on, though.

NatV -- that is an extremely funny post, and I'm cringeing in sympathy here. Oh... and regrettably, while Birmo and I can write the damned stuff, there appears to be no real way we can convince the lads to put it into practise*. Nevertheless, the bulk of that chapter is really nothing more than any sensible chap discovers for himself with a little time, open-mindedness and enthusiastic effort.

*It occurs to me that some sort of hands-on seminar might be useful. Hard to organise, though. And I have to admit that taking on the role of traffic-cop for a bunch of clueless gents is a prospect that boggles even MY mind.

Simon said...

Lacklustre sex-life? Leave it to the professionals. Hire the services of an expensive prostitute.

Mayhem said...

Hi Nat,

Hate to be a b*tch, but just not having those problems at the moment. Of course it's probably mainly due to the fact that we live so far apart, by the time we see each other again we just can't keep our hands, mouths (and other body bits) off each other.

That said, as a method of spicing up your sex life, living at opposite ends of the country is not one I'd recommend.

YsambartCourtin said...

I think the only real response is to write "Diary of a real Great Sex Weekend". I volunteer to help. FOR SCIENCE.

Dr Yobbo said...

Flinty - yes mate I did see that, wouldn't have brought it up randomly otherwise. I figure any gents who fail to take up the advice or are incapable of being taught are just improving the odds for the rest of us who can be arsed figuring that stuff out.

Pools of Viscous You were a new romantic band weren't they?

Flinthart said...

Aha. Sorry, Doc - misunderstood your comment as a suggestion to check out the book. And yeah, I think Birmo and I both are distinctly uncomfortable in the formal role of Sex Professors. It had to be done for the book, but as always, the best teacher is experience... and experience in this field generally thrives on privacy and discretion!

Natalia the Russian Spy said...

Firstly I would like to address Lermontov's comment made on twitter. He was concerned for my motivation in reading 'How to be a Man'...well on the surface dear Mr Lerm, it may appear odd. I read it for insights into the male mind and was presently pleased. Or perhaps I'm growing a COQ. Take your pick!

LOU: It's funny because in my notes (taken whilst reading it) I wrote down the same reaction. *gags* Honestly! How could one say that with a straight face???

SIMON: You think I should dial-a-stud? GINCHY!

MAYHEM: Well I'm glad you're getting some hot stuff darlin'. Lemme know if it's still the case after you've been living together forever!

BART: Like those scientists that study why the vegemite side of toast always hits the floor first, I couldn't think of a more exciting scientific exploration!

FLINT: OH. MY. GAWD. I've have this mental picture of you in a lab coat with a clipboard and a crop. Dirk Flinthart's 2010 Hands-ON Sex Convention for chaps that have the dexterity of someone trying to shut an overstuffed suitcase.

YOBBO: It pleases me no end to know there's a man out there that has taken on those tips. Lucky, lucky, lucky DMDY!!! As for the enjoyment part...well I'll have you know that the good sex weekend recommends shaving and industrial scrubbing...but yes. Well practised enthusiasm makes for a long and happy marriage.

As for Pools of Viscous You...wasn't their first hit entitled 'Show Me Your Slippery Dip'?...errr sorry...too far :-)

Barnesm said...

Magnificent work NatalieV, suc stuff only further confuses me as to why you don't have a regualr gig in the weekend magazines.

My concern is also flagged by the choice of Music of Ms Ethridge pain, angst and suffering yeah thats what will get the relationship back on track.

Nautilus said...

What do you mean "lift his game"? You are making this sex thing sound complicated.

Hang on, are you having sex for reasons other than procreation?

Natalia the Russian Spy said...

BARNESM: I'm actually going to send this one to FHM instead of fucking around!

NAUT: Very droll handsome.

yankeedog said...

"I want to (adverb) (verb) your (adjective) (noun). I want you to (adverb) (verb) my (adjective) (noun)."

And so one of the most loving and generous acts has been reduced to a Mad Lib...alas.

Really, no one other than the pros should be filmed doing the horizontal bop. Amateurs-ugh!

Anonymous said...

I just want to know who was at the counter when you bought this worthy tome or did you chicken out and order it from Amazon...?

Natalia the Russian Spy said...

CHAZ: It has been stashed for years in my X-rated pile and has only just seen the light of day since installing the book shelves...I have a feeling I bought it at one of those cheap book stalls you see in shopping centres...ya know...the excess stock that nobody has bought. So to answer your question. NO it wasn't an Amazon purchase.

YANKEE: It's all rather clinical isn't it?

Dr Yobbo said...

No prob Flint, was a good read, least I can do to up the sales of it is offer a few unsolicited plugs.

Not all of 'em can be told. Dr Mrs Dr Yobbo bought her younger bro the aforementioned tome for a birthday a few years back. He could have used the help. Instead he cracked a sad and bought her a book entitled 'Surviving turning 30: Fuck you're washed up' or words to that effect.
He's still single.

Natalia the Russian Spy said...

YOBBO: Here's hoping he gets lonely enough to read it one day.

Mayhem said...

Nat, honestly, the distance does make a difference, but it's not all good trust me. And to be perfectly honest? If we'd stayed together 25 years ago, it's likely one or both of us would be dead. Maybe we can make a go of the next 25.

Natalia the Russian Spy said...

MAYHEM: Yes with a bit of life experience under both of your belts I'm sure there's a good chance.

Anonymous said...

When I eventually make my way to Brisneyland, and I can finally take you to dinner, I will share with you some of my adventures among the Amish back in the 1980's.

Natalia the Russian Spy said...

PAUL! OMG. Did you hear jack-hammer sex through the thin walls?

Anonymous said...

I wouldn't call "listening" an adventure, Nat.

Natalia the Russian Spy said...

Yes you're right Paul. So instead of picturing you with a Clydesdale I'll just wait until we have dinner and then approach the subject with an open mind.

Anonymous said...

And an empty stomach. I love to watch women eat.

Steve said...

The Amish are surprisingly freaky. There was a huge problem with drug use some years ago amongst the teenagers. The kids were getting high on meth and cocaine. Unfortunately, as the parents had no clue about illegal narcotics (they should've had TV's like their Mennonite neighbors), they just thought their kids were possessed by Der Teufel.

Natalia the Russian Spy said...

You know I'd considered that I may have been using a very simple stereotype when referencing the Amish but decided to leave it in to see what my favourite Americans might say about it. I think I saw that program on Foxtel...the one where the Amish kids hang with the cool cats in LA?

Anonymous said...

Amish women drive me wild with desire. And do you know why? Because no matter what you do to them, they forgive you.

Oh, God, I think I'm crying...

Steve said...

I should've said "Amish Teenagers" are surprisingly freaky. The adults are about as dour as you'd expect. And, while I know rampant hard-core drug use has been an issue, I don't know if that translates to sex as well. They are descended from German Baptists, for all I know they like the German porn as well.

I saw that same program. I was kind of cheering for the Amish kids to give up their old life and go into stripping or something.

Anonymous said...

There is no need to disparage the Amish people, Steve, other than to observe that their women are hot.

Steve said...

I haven't disparaged them in the slightest. I've only suggested that their inability to watch CSI or Law & Order increases drug use amongst the young, and that their German heritage *might* give them a prediliction for hardcore German porn.

And whilst the women are hot, I assure you, their bathing schedule is not what it is, say, over the river in New Jersey (but, it's quite a bit better than the rest of Pennsylvania).

Damian said...

Teehee, all fun. Part of this comment thread calls to mind as sketch in Monty Python's The Meaning of Life, quite strongly. Dirk, I enjoyed the chapter in question though at that point I'd already learned most of the, ahem, experience thus embodied.

I had a few quibbles with HTBAM in other areas, though they were minor as I recollect. The one that comes to mind, as a (albleit now mostly former) musician for me there exists no other colour for a suit than black. Sure I experimented with a navy linen thing in my 20s, but that was the road to perdition, ah tells ya.

Natalia the Russian Spy said...

Well considering your hair colour I'm certain the black would have looked smashing. Thanks for popping by.

Therbs said...

"HER: You just thrashed around for five minutes and fell asleep.

HIM: That’s because you laid there like a log you fat blimp."

Who gave you those tapes I paid to get wiped by the hotel dude at Holiday Inn in Frisco? I paid good money for him to wipe them. Bastard.

YsambartCourtin said...

You around? ysambart is AT the gmail in the dot on the com.

Madam Morgana said...

Just do it.

Unless you're feeling really comfortable, intimate, mutually turned on, fully reciprocated etc. etc. - in which case, as you have already pointed out, all instructions are probably redundant - often things are easier to DO than DESCRIBE. Show him, if he's sufficiently interested to be worth your while screwing, he'll get the hang.

NowhereBob said...

Hey you?
To busy with the new man to entertain us?
and what Virgilio said with a bow.

Natalia the Russian Spy said...

BOB: Nah babe nothing that exciting. Teen girl problems. I'll be glad when this gig is over.

VIRGILIO: I say WTF? I'm too scared to even translate it!

MADAM: Nice to have you hear Morgana!

THERBS: Always good for a giggle you are.

BART: Hey you! Still hanging in there. Just.

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