IN VITRO HUMOUR

My ebook pHunny Science - What they never teach you at school is available. If you would like a copy, please email mamor@bigpond.net.au with the subject: "ebook" and I will send you a copy. If it tickles your funny bone, a donation would be appreciated. You can donate by clicking the secure PayPal button on the right of this blog. Happy reading!

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello science lovers and haters! Like to have a laugh? This site is dedicated to dragging science kicking and screaming into.....comedy. When I left school, I had less than fond memories of laborious laboratory labours that seemed meaningless at the time. But with the passage of time, combined with an innate desire to write comedy, I've grown fonder of those classroom memories when I think of the funny side. So, I thought I'd invent my own writing genre: "Science Comedy" to have a laugh and hopefully share some with readers who can identify with some of my short stories. Please feel free to comment - but no offensive language, thank you.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
So here's just a short taste of things to come:

FOREPLAY

A pubescent boy’s clammy finger probes the index of a new science text book. Ah! Cleavage! Alas - the search only leads to something about minerals splitting. But where was the good chapter - the one big brother had told him about? Wait - here it is - B20 - Human Reproduction. The one so excruciating for the teachers that their pain was palpable as they tried to explain the intricacies of body parts and their purposes - functional and pleasurable.

Those of us whose oestrogen was a-bubbling, outwardly scoffed at the immature boys who sat rigid at their desks (do male hormones make you stiff?) so they could soak up every detail, and relish every moment of the teacher’s discomfort. The girls’ outward calm, however, belied our inner churnings as we wondered what "it" was like.

Good old B20! The climactic peak in a surrounding desolate plain of endless formulae and principles. But where were the experiments for this one? They would sure as hell have run rings around dissecting rats. (Where did they get the rats from anyway? The canteen?)

If only the rest of the course had been even half as exciting, then maybe students such as I would have bathed with abandon in the bountiful sea of science instead of merely getting our toes wet in the froth and bubble on the shore.

So:-
If lessons in the science lab
At school were really very drab,
My tales will teach you very well,
With a large grain of NaCl.

So come and take the plunge with me
Into the scientific sea.
Wear your togs? Don’t be a goat!
There’s nothing under my white coat.
(At least the one I was wearing....)

NOT TONIGHT, NAPOLEON!

Pre-menstrual syndrome has a lot to answer for. Personally I find this time to be my most creative, but also the time when I am most likely to offend people either with my weird sense of humour or my acid tongue which leaps into action in response to nothing more than, for example, someone telling me my hair "looks nice today" when I know it looks crappy. So, dear reader, if I offend you, tough titty. (Guess which part of my cycle I'm in now!)

Which brings me to hormones. These little wonders of human biology should never be dismissed as a mere spanner in the periodic works. All of us who have experienced their awesome power, will never fear anything else quite as much as the female of the hormone species. You can be calmly sailing along on the good ship Life, when Hurricane Hormones delivers a broadside with all the warning of a premature ejaculation, hurling you into the sea of the unknown, and more frighteningly, the unpredictable. Thrashing against the permeable barrier to sense and reasoning, the hormones wreak a path of destruction and cause flooding of the reproductive engine room, disabling any forward passage until all the bilge water is bailed out.

Hormones are also responsible for so much more than they are credited with, such as some clichés. Perhaps this is because of the taboos associated with them. For example, the much overworked "not tonight dear, I have a headache" should probably more accurately be "not tonight dear, I have a hormone" as that is most likely the real root (pun intended) of the headache, if indeed the headache exists at all.

Still in the same vein, but subtly different, is the rhyming slang reference to the wife as the "trouble and strife". Yep, you can blame the hormone for this one too. As any of you females know, there is absolutely no way you can be nice to anyone if you've heeded the "hurricane" warning, but have nevertheless had a surge of rogue hormones gush over your gunwales.

So, what to do about these much maligned little quirks of nature? Imagine if it were possible for any female hormone to go on trial for crimes against humanity. The women present in the courtroom (especially those crappy-haired, creative ones) would all be baying for blood and chanting "Kill the bitch!" while the men would be hoping for a quick "guilty" verdict and a sentence of life with hard labour inside the "missus". Then they could be off with their mates equipped with fishing tackle and swags of testosterone.

As harrowing as these hormone-related experiences may be, if we didn't have these little hiccups, how dull would life be? I suggest that it's not love, but the hormone, be it male, female or uncertain, that makes the world go around, and I suspect it's not the moon itself, but our collective lunar-influenced ships of Life that affect our tides of sexuality, making us wax, wane or whine.