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1. The human cell contains 75 MB of genetic information
2. A sperm 37.5 MB.
3. In a millilitre, we have 100 million sperms.
On average, one ejaculation releases 2.25 ml in 5 seconds.
Using basic math we can compute the bandwidth of the human male penis as:
(37.5MB x 100M x 2.25)/5 = (37,500,000 bytes/sperm x 100,000,000 sperm/ml x 2.25 ml) / 5 seconds = 1,687,500,000,000,000 bytes/sec = 1,687.5 TerraBytes/sec
That's a lot of data.
Two teenage nerds, Gary and Wyatt, unpopular and unable to meet girls on their own, use Wyatt's computer to design the perfect woman. They feed various data into the computer. Lacking sufficient processing power, they hack into a US Government mainframe and use its power to create a computer simulation of "the perfect woman" in order to place her in "real life sexual situations" and see how she reacts. A bizarre electrical storm follows, and they find themselves unable to shut the computer off.
Mysteriously, the result is "Lisa", a real-life woman, who emerges from a red fog in the bathroom. She is a sexed-up but kind-hearted "80's babe" with Einstein's IQ, David Lee Roth's attitude and inexplicable supernatural powers.
When you have to visit a public toilet, you usually find a line of women, soyou smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check forfeet under the cubicle doors. Every cubicle is occupied.Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving thecubicle. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn'tmatter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants!
The dispenser for the modern 'seat covers' (invented by someone's Mum, nodoubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your bag on the door hook, ifthere was one, so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck,(Mum would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!) down withyour pants and assume ' The Stance.In this position, your aging, toneless, thigh muscles begin to shake. You'dlove to sit down, but having not taken time to wipe the seat or to laytoilet paper on it, you hold 'The Stance.'
To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what youdiscover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser.In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, 'Dear, if you hadtried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWNthere was no toilet paper!' Your thighs shake more.
You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your bag (the bag around your neck, that now you have tohold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would haveto do, so you crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smallerthan your thumbnail.
Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work.The door hits your bag, which is hanging around your neck in front of yourchest and you and your bag topple backward against the tank of the toilet.
'Occupied!' you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny,crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, while losing your footingaltogether and sliding down directly onto the TOILET SEAT.It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late.Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life formon the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not thatthere was any, You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, becauseyou're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seatbecause, frankly, dear, 'You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get.
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is soconfused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hoseagainst the inside of the bowl and spraying a fine mist of water thatcovers your bum and runs down your legs and into your shoes.The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force and you grab onto theempty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.
At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wettoilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a sweet wrapper youfound in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.You can't figure out how to operate the taps with the automatic sensors, soyou wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the lineof women still waiting.
You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very endof the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe.(Where was that when you NEEDED it?)You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell herwarmly, 'Here, you just might need this.
As you exit, you spot your hubby/boyfriend, who has long since entered, used and leftthe men's toilet. Annoyed, he asks, 'What took you so long and why is yourbag hanging around your neck?
This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with any public restrooms/toilets (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains tothe men what really does take us so long. It also answers that othercommonly asked question about why women go to the toilets in pairs. It'sso the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your bag and hand you Kleenex under the door.
Friday night was chilli night. The standard of entries was seriously high this year. Entries varied from chilli and crab pate to chilli jelly with all sorts of curries in between. The eventual winner was Mr H Stogdon of Earlsfield with his Lamb Hydrabaddy. Winner of the home grown raw chilli round was Mrs J Edmondson of Knockholt with her Chinese Four Colour variety. The 3rd annual chilli competition is planned for November 2009. Get growing!
John McCain receives a present from Orange County Choppers. One problem: he can't reach the handlebars!
I'm watching the BBC for news of the US Election. By the time you read this, we'll know who the next president will be.
Some thoughts about the campaign: George W. Bush has been 100% absent. He's toxic. It's therefore amazing that John McCain is doing as well as he has. I believe McCain's major mistake was choosing Sarah Palin as his running mate: there might've been an increase in popularity from women and traditionally conservative voters but he has suffered tremendously now that he can't use his "more experienced" line and it's become clear Palin is not up to the job.
I was in Florida two weeks ago. It was fascinating being in the middle of the action. The media was plastered with adverts. John McCain's adverts even started with him saying "The last eight years haven't been good, have they?" This from a Republican candidate! I was impressed by the organisation of the Obama campaign in Florida - it completely neutered any work by McCain - there were more rallies, more car stickers, more flags, more garden posters. The Republicans seemed to be silent.
It's amazing what is allowed to be broadcast on US television. All sorts of groups are putting out adverts for and against each candidate. There was a lot of crap flying around. Because of this, many of the news stations (I flicked between CNN, MSNBC and FOX) were spending a lot of time separating fact from fiction.
Who will win? It must be Obama (though watching the BBC, you'd think it was a one horse race!). With the #1 issue moving from Iraq to the economy over the last few months, the American public are keen for a change in how the economy is run, and think Obama will deliver that. But I'm not sure how. To me they're voting for the personality and charisma of Obama and the dreams, hopes and aspirations that personality brings, rather than any particular policy.
I'm just putting the finishing touches to my entry into this Friday's chilli cookoff. I've put together a bean chilli with a "modest" amount of habaneros. I'm a little worried: just from cutting the chillies, my right hand feels like I've pushed it into a school of Portuguese Men o' War. I'm having to write this with my left hand only.
Let the games begin.
Frank is enjoying a pint in the pub one afternoon with a friend.
"My wife will be on the plane now" he says with a wistful smile.
"Really?" his friend says. "Where's she off to then?"
"Oh nowhere" says Frank. "I've left her at home taking a couple of inches off the kitchen door"
One morning, a stud farm owner receives a visit from a midget wanting to buy a horse. It soon becomes obvious that the dwarf has a bad speech impediment. "Can I view the female horth?" he asks.
Dutifully, the owner leads one out, and shows the midget the hoofs and legs.
"That'th a thtrong looking beatht, for thure" says the gnomic breeder, nodding his head. "Can I thee her mouf?"
Confused as to how the tiny man will ride the animal, the farmer still picks up the midget by his braces and shows him the horses mouth.
"Nith healthy-looking horth" agrees the midget. "Now move me awouwnd to her eerth..."
Now getting annoyed, the owner lifts up the midget one more time to look at the ears.
"Finally "says the Lilliputian, "can I see her twat?"
With that, the fed-up owner picks up the midget and shoves his head in to the horse's vagina. He pulls him out after a minute, and the tiny man stumbles around, dazed.
"Perhapth I thould rephrathe that"says the midget, shaking his head. "Can I thee her wun awownd?"