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Better than Sex

By on 1 July 2011 in All Posts, Weekend Magazine Columns

BRACE YOURSELF WINS A $50 GIFT VOUCHER TO THE PLEASURE SPOT WHICH SPECIALISES IN ON-LINE EROTICA

 

I WASN’T surprised by a recent hotel industry survey that showed couples who go away are more likely to watch television than have sex.

Around 80 per cent of Australian hotel guests responded that they preferred to turn on the TV or an in-house movie instead of their partner, the online survey revealed.

It seems to me that most people in long-term relationships are more driven by a need to escape the mundane, and become part of a murder mystery or medical crisis, than have a shag.

And most people I interviewed  had 1 to 3 things they’d rather be doing than having sex with their partners. I casually asked a few people who’ve been together five years or longer. Here are some of the answers:

“Eat chocolate mousse; watch House; sleep; anything; eat a home-cooked lasagne; play with the dog; watch internet porn; watch a great film; read Vanity Fair; be skiing; watch soccer; go to a great dance party; be online; have sex but with someone else.”

What are the things you find better than sex?  Or how do you keep it hot & spicy?

Go to “comments” button above

 

Read full story in today’s   The Australian


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Souvenir hunting

By on 22 April 2011 in All Posts, Weekend Magazine Columns

IT was reported the other week that a US company has invented a washable microchip to track robes, towels and bed linens stolen from hotel rooms.

Theft apparently costs the industry millions each year. A Honolulu hotel, which introduced the technology, claims to have reduced theft of its pool towels from 4000 a month to just 750, two figures I found deliriously far-fetched.
For those who manage to smuggle their towel through the hotel lobby like sweating drug mules, I can see a reality TV show: Hotel Cops. Fugitives are brought to justice in their homes: “Hands up! We have reason to believe you have an illegal hotel towel in your possession!” Then from another room, “Oh my god, Brian, come quick,” as they kick over a garbage bag filled with mini-shampoos. In the background the music score: “Bad boys, bad boys… what ya gonna do when they come for you.”

My own hotel theft story is even better than this. For my wedding we flew my fiancé’s eccentric parents to Melbourne and put them in a luxury hotel for two nights. His late parents, as I have written before, were Holocaust survivors and already had a very strange relationship with the world. Eva, for instance, would keep cupboards full to the brim of canned tomatoes, beans, asparagus, just in case the Nazis invaded Bondi. They had never flown before, having come to Australia by boat.

But they took to hotel life like ducks to water. When it came time to leave, the bill for two nights came to more than $1000. We couldn’t understand, given we’d paid the accommodation in advance and taken them out for meals. The mini-bar tab listed two bottles of Moët, countless bottles of wine and mini-spirits, chocolates, nuts, and four towels. “Mum, Dad, you don’t drink alcohol! What happened here?” We opened the heavy suitcases and there were the items. “What are you doing?” we yelled.

Eva was totally baffled. She said, “Dey were so kind to us. Dey give us all of dis food. We didn’t want to be rude.”

 

We pay hotels enough to stay in them. Should we be entitled to keep a few souvenirs?

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