For men who thought that sharing housework duties would make your relationship more fulfilling, that’s true … for your wife. A new study, however, found that it could mean less sex for you.
Couples in more egalitarian relationships where men performed “traditionally female chores — such as cooking, cleaning and shopping” reported having less sex than those couples in which the men performed “traditionally masculine tasks — such as yard work, paying bills and auto maintenance.” Men in the survey reported having sex an average 5.2 times a month, while women reported 5.6.
… Wait a minute. 5.2 versus 5.6?
And now we know: cooking, cleaning and shopping cut into valuable affair-having time — time that women now enjoy.
For those of you who have been eagerly awaiting to have sex with a robot, there is now a projected date to mark on your calendar: 2050. That’s according to two Victoria University researchers, “Management professor Ian Yeoman, a futurist with an interest in tourism, and sexologist Michelle Mars.”
The two published a paper in the journal Futures, “Robots, Men And Sex Tourism,” in which they theorize a sex club in Amsterdam named Yub-Yum will offer up flawless android prostitutes to Red Light District tourists. Moreover, they believe that the 10,000 Euro encounters will be guilt- and disease-free as the customers have technically not cheated on their real-life partners and the machines will be routinely hosed down and made of a bacteria-resistant material.
What has not been accounted for is when the androids are retired after years of unspeakable service. That’s where The Guys’ moonlighting services as futurists come in: Blade Runner Camp. (Patent: us.)
“How would you describe your pain on a scale from 0 to 10, 0 meaning ‘none at all’ and 10 meaning ‘the most imaginable?'”
If you’ve ever gone to the hospital for anything other than a check-up or to laugh at sick people, then you’ve been asked this question. And after years of asking patients for their completely subjective interpretation of a pain scale ranging from none to Michael Bay, medical professionals have finally learned something: men are more imaginative than women.
Comparing the results of men’s responses to women’s yielded a full point difference on average, with women more likely to rate their pain higher towards “the most imaginable.” Men, meanwhile — conditioned on Predator movies and The Three Stooges — are more likely to believe that a new, higher level of pain almost always exists above where they are. We’re pretty sure it involves testicles and a juicer.
Some of you savvier readers might remember Cryos International — the largest sperm bank in the world — turning down redhead and Scandinavian semen back in September. In response, Swedish scientists have released a study that may make Ole Schou reconsider his policy.
They found that Swedish men who donated sperm generally scored better in the screening process for being more responsible, confident and self-accepted than donors from other countries (like those shiftless Danes over at Cryos), thank you very much.
The researchers would be remiss, however, if they didn’t mention that Swedish sperm requires some assembly after purchase.
A new study from Ohio State University reveals that men gain weight after a divorce, while women gain weight after having accomplished all of their life goals except ruining yours.
Researchers were unable to pinpoint the root causes for the higher chance of weight gain in these two groups, but they attributed it to married women having “less time to exercise and stay fit than similar unmarried women.”
If we may, we can fill science in on what happens to divorced men: beer for breakfast and Hot Pockets. Also, lackluster masturbation. (Lacklusturbation?)
Every year, network television producers have a challenge laid before them: to break new ground on sitcoms with the same tired Tim Allens and former Roseanne kids.
One way is to go with the familiar, but add a twist. For instance: Yes Dear was your average white family sitcom, only with another wrong-kind-of-white family living in Will and Carlton’s pool house out back. It’s not glamorous, but it pays the bills and not every channel can be HB-goddamn-O.
But, then, every so often, a producer finds a goal—nay, a mission to champion and the talent to pull it off. A show like Will & Grace, which dared to ask, “What if we made a show about gay people and only one acts like a cartoon?” Or Cheers, which looked at alcoholism and thought, “What’s the big deal, anyway?” A show that tackles the concerns of the average American with a no-holds-barred approach the way Major Dad did with newly-remarried divorcées and the Marines.
There won’t be any letters this week. I want to talk to you about your health and some of my concerns. You may not realize it, but you–yes, you–are unhealthy.
Doctors and lesser scientists have tried everything to make you healthier. We told you that if you got into shape, you’d have more frequent and better sex. When we discovered that fat people and coat racks still manage to have sex, we tried to tell you sex is exercise. That just led to sex toys and the Internet.
We even tried to use food against you. We told you that you could lose weight by eating steak, every f#@king day. You could eat bacon every hour of the day, so long as you didn’t put it in bread. And you still blew it.
And that’s why I’m writing to you today. I’m feed up, so like a high school parent, the government and I are going to pay you for every passed physical. But, any time you do some unhealthy, we’re gonna take some of that money back.