How do you solve a problem like Laika?

Last night, I found myself watching Enterprise before going to bed and as a result, I’ve had a bit of a random conundrum going through my head today. In case the title of this post is a bit too esoteric for you, it’s related to dogs in space. Captain Sam-from-Quantum-Leap has a rather cute beagle called Porthos:

Awww. So far, so cute. What I’ve been wondering though, is where the dog goes when he needs to, ahem, expel waste product from his furry little body. From what I’ve observed, the Enterprise seems to be mostly carpeted; the mess and the smell would get pretty unbearable after a while. Even if, as a friend has suggested to me, the Captain simply sets his phaser to disintegrate and vaporises the dog’s deposits, it’s still going to leave holes all over the carpets and an overwhelming smell of burnt faeces. I’ve certainly never heard of anyone in Star Trek uttering the phrase “set phasers to Febreze”.

It’s this sort of thing that makes me think that some sci-fi is just totally unrealistic.

The day I was almost violated by a rampant sexbot

I had one of the more eye opening experiences of my tender 27 years yesterday. At the behest of one of my friends over here in Edmonton, I accompanied her (under extreme duress ) to the Taboo Sex Show for the afternoon. We were sat on the LRT on the way out to the convention centre and she said to me, “I’ve never really been to anything like this before, so I’m not quite sure what to expect”. At least I was losing my sex convention virginity to someone who was equally as intrigued and worried about what lay ahead. I felt kind of like a teenager again except my hair is a lot better now*.

So we arrived at the convention centre having spent most of the journey trying to work out if the other people on the train look like seasoned sex show goers or not. Judging by the huge variation in people inside, it was a pretty difficult task to spot them. We got inside and got given our bag for carrying our freebies home in. The sum total of my haul was more condoms and lube than I could possibly hope to use even if I got laid twice a day between now and March. Going on past form, this is unlikely to happen.

The goods on offer ranged from the fairly standard (the usual array of toys, lingerie etc.) to iPod controlled vibrators, to repulsive fat men selling all manner of latex, to candles that melted into (surprisingly tasty) edible massage oil, to the random black guy selling African hot sauce. And that’s not even a euphamism. However, there are a few high/lowlights that will be forever seared into my brain:

• I saw a woman dressed in full leather gimp costume chained to a table while a man dragged nails across her chest. That was my first big “ok WTF?!?!” moment of the afternoon. The woman appeared to be enjoying it, but I really want to know how people find out that that’s the sort of thing they’re into. “Darling, would you like to mix things up a bit by tying me upside-down to a medieval torture device and flagellating my behind?”
• Pulsating massage gloves are awesome. My companion and I were both sent weak at the knees when we had these demonstrated on the backs of our necks. I spent some time pondering if my new-found superpowers would enhance the experience for any ladies I used the gloves on. Then I decided that any ladies who saw me wearing the gloves might scream and run away.
• The robot sex toaster is the stuff of nightmares. It looked like a regular toaster. Or maybe one of those little black droids that went whizzing around the Death Star that Chewbacca growled at. Except instead of providing toast as its end product, it was simply the delivery mechanism for some kind of throbbing robocock. I’m sure that 99.9% of them are regular, well behaved sexbots, but mark my words – when the robots rise up and send us all to GuantanRobo Bay, these guys are going to be the interrogators we face…

* Even though I’m really quite bald these days, anyone who went to school with me can attest to the fact that my hair was fucking awful.

Yatta!

I’ve long suspected that I was placed on this planet to serve a higher purpose and it’s looking like I was right. I have superpowers and I can’t control them.

If I were to construct a list of the top 5 powers I’d like to have, it would probably look something like this:

• Invisibility
• The strength to flip over cars
• Extreme sexual prowess
• Communicating with animals and persuading them to do my bidding
• Being able to speak with the gravitas of Patrick Stewart

Of course, the power I appear to have been given is not on the above list. Oh no. My new found power appears to be the ability to shoot static electricity from my fingers. But only when I touch metallic surfaces. In Edmonton. You really have no idea how disappointing that is. It’s like finding out you’re Batman but the only gadget you have is a hand buzzer. (Tangent – anyone attempting to claim that due to his lack of super powers, Batman is a mere crime-fighting vigilante will be forcibly removed from the building).

As was pointed out to me yesterday, at least I don’t have the ability to accidentally kill everyone I love through radiation poisoning. But let me tell you this: shooting static from your fingers really hurts