Two unrelated reasons not to pick your nose in public and to wash your hands after traversing bridges

I'm offering up two completely unrelated things that were brought to, and captured, my attention recently.

The first is a visual adventure and completely non-bizarro. And the second is all about sex. With objects.

A friend of mine sent me a link to this site with this amazingly detailed photo of the crowd at the inauguration.

You've got to check it out. Click on the picture. And zoom in and zoom in and zoom in.

It's one of the coolest things I've ever seen. While I was in the way way wayback of the crowd, behind the Washington Monument, a number of people I know had tickets. So I feel like if I had time to look at the entire picture, eventually I'd find someone I know.

Even if not, it's just incredible. The detail is astounding.

Now for the sex.

So, I'm generally of the opinion that if you're not doing anything with children or animals, and you're not hurting anyone who doesn't want you to, then what you get up to in your private time is all fine. And this holds true for me with the following.

But this story on Jezebel about Objectum Sexuals is fas-ci-na-ting.

Because it's about this small group of people - all women - who fall in love with objects. Like fences. And the Eiffel Tower. And the Golden Gate bridge.

And when I say they fall in love with them - they fall in love. They imbue them with personalities. They assign gender to these objects. They have sex with them.

One woman becomes a world-class archer because she falls so deeply in love with her bow. In fact, her relationship with her ex-boyfriend ended because she liked the bow more than she liked him. And ultimately, the bow got the sex that the boyfriend wasn't getting.

While she and the bow were hot and heavy (their relationship has since cooled), the sex, according to her, was fantastic.

Honestly.

There's a short video on the site that explains and has brief interviews, and there's a link to a longer documentary.

I found watching it kind of uncomfortable - a mix of feeling embarrassed for them and feeling sad, because clearly relationships with objects is just safer than relationships with humans. But I don't think these people are necessarily unhappy, so who am I to feel sad for them?

There is, however, this piece that makes me twitch.

I am not fastidious, but I feel a lot more comfortable with the idea of "love" with personal objects you store in your home and keep clean than with amusement park rides or the Empire State Building.