Let’s Get It On

Back when I was living in Ottawa I would, on occasion, take my children to the Museum of Nature so they could learn about all the wonders of this island earth. Including, of course, dinosaurs. Who doesn’t love dinosaurs? (if you actually don’t like dinosaurs I strongly suggest you find another article to read because this is about to get 50 Shades of uncomfortable)
Later, when I was in the company of adults only and possibly aided by a few drinks I would wonder out loud “How did dinosaurs f*%k?”
Now I’m not talking the quadrupeds because anybody who has been around a particularly aggressive dog has had that question answered in spades. I’m talking the bipedal dinosaurs and in particular, the mighty T-Rex. Let’s be honest here, they weren’t the most sturdy looking creatures when it came time to shag.
I always wondered if it was done missionary with a very inconvenient tail in the way. Was it bitey sex? Was a passive herbivore, hoping submission could be traded for it’s life, used for support? These questions rattles around in my brain.

After a recent trip to Drumheller, I once again presented these questions to my boyfriend who was not at all shocked I wondered this but insistent I am a minority in this query.

To this I say…. HA!

It turns out my questions were, to a very lessened degree, actually very scientific ones, according to paleontologists, who have spent decades researching T-Rex coitus.

Complete with fantastic illustrations of a variety of dinosaurs mid romp, this article posted to the science section of the Daily Mail Online, briefly explains how dinosaurs (T-Rex included) mated.
You can only imagine how giddy I was to discover this information, so I sought more.
I found this documentary on YouTube split into two parts. It was actually quite educational. Click the link or don’t but you have to learn one thing a day and this could be your one thing and frankly, I’m just trying to help.

(If you’ve gotten this far… I was TOTALLY right about the bitey sex!)

I don’t have enough money to be Bruce Wayne

Last night at midnight my neighbour knocked at my back door.
Midnight!!! Most people would think there might be an emergency but not us. We contemplated going to the door with a spray bottle to attempt to correct this improper behaviour because she is always at our back door for something or another and midnight is just the most ridiculous time to do it yet.

The heat meant I was already set to sleep in naked glory so Pedro got the honors. I was not privy to the conversation but apparently it was about a bat in our back yard. She was freaking out about a bat in our shared back yard.
This was why she was waking us up.
I for one was thrilled. Those bad boys can eat up to 600 mosquitoes an hour. Bring it on!!!

Turns out, the brown bat was sitting on our back step railing when her wunderkind boyfriend went to let their dog out. He saw an animal that weighs aprox 8.5 grams and has a wing span of 8 inches (ladies, you know what I’m talking about), and freaked the eff out. He ran down stairs to their unit AND LEFT THE BACK DOOR OPEN.

Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle YAH!

Now this bat is in the common laundry room, and guess who has left for the day (I’ll give you a hint, I’m in my bedroom, angry blogging) and who is left to try and get rid of the bat (I’ll give you a hint, I’m in my bedroom, angry blogging).

I really don’t mind bats. They are wonderful, useful little critters and once I get rid of the one in my basement let in by my moron neighbour, I’ll probably get a bat house for the backyard. I just don’t like them in my basement, let in by moron neighbours.

I just hope this little guy doesn’t bite me because I’m broke as shit and my BatBelt will look like something from a swap meet.