Hugs and Snuggles

A recent weird news item reported that an establishment in Madison, Wisconsin dubbed the Snuggle House offered a per pay service of providing someone that you can talk with or cuddle or snuggle with at $60 an hour.  Each encounter there was to involve snuggling only, no sexual moves on the part of either the customer or the snuggle service provider.   However, this unusual enterprise was closed by local authorities lest it be an occasion for prostitution or sexual harassment.

The claim by the management and fans of the Snuggle House is that an hour's snuggling with someone else would release the hormone Oxytocin, the "tend and befriend" hormone.  Here's a description for the establishment itself; you can form your own conclusions about it:

http://thesnugglehouse.org/

An enterprising reporter of the Badger Herald looked into the house, and gave this description:

http://badgerherald.com/artsetc/2013/11/25/went-snuggle-house-happened/#.UvWUf6-Yb4g

Undoubtedly, being close and quiet or having soothing contact with someone else would release this beneficial hormone; but so would other things.  For example, sitting quietly and petting a dog would do so as well.  Or the simple act of hugging someone else, if they are receptive to this going on.  Perhaps it's something we should be a little more permissive and welcoming about as a culture.  We need smiles, pats on the back, kind words, and hugs.  Who knows, some people might experience less loneliness.  Some churches are becoming more encouraging of this type of contact in addition to the ritualized shaking of hands.

Little things do matter; and people feeling a sense of being loved and not alone matters a lot.  We need hugs.  Seriously.

We Need a Minimum Daily Allotment of Humor!

Sometimes we have rougher times than others; and we need a laugh break to get over the rough patches.

Take persons who are involved in serious, possibly life or death situations.  They have their own version of humor shared internally (doctors, pilots, cops, even professors). Outsiders encountering these examples of humor might be put off, or even horrified, by hearing it.  Here's a few from medicine:

FLK -- funny-looking kid; one who appears with overt facies  (facial characteristics) indicating some symptom.
Circling the drain -- about to die.
Acute lead poisoning -- gunshot wound.
Fecal encephalopathy -- shit for brains.
LOBNH -- lights on but nobody home; person catatonic or generally unresponsive.
Code yellow -- Urine needing cleanup.
Goober -- malignant tumor.

Or psychology:

Bra-size IQ -- one in the range between 30 and 45.
Room temp IQ -- one in the range between 70 and 80; just barely above intellectual deficiency.
Shrink -- psychotherapist.
Binet or WISC jockey -- psychometrician.
Worm runner (archaic) -- an experimental psychologist who tried to do transfer of learning studies with flatworms.

We're on safer grounds in recommending more mainstream humor sources, provided the type of humor is consistent with one's taste.  For example, these sites are really for people who are okay with irreverent, even risqué, humor:

http://collegehumor.com

http://fark.com

Television and the internet provides a lot of funny for those in need.  I like The Big Bang Theory and How I Met Your Mother.  30 Rock also had its moments, as did a lot of classic comedy from the 1980s, like Wings.  I think Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert are not my style; but my point is, if it works for you, go for it!

Humor is supposed to have health benefits, as well as giving pleasure to many people.  I wish some governmental agency could be formed that would unbiased rate all forms of humor in terms of some RDA of humor.  Then each person could assess her or his own daily intake, and make adjustments accordingly.  We already have this available for diet (calories, sodium, protein, sugar, etc.) -- why not humor?

Oh, the obvious hit me like a tennis racquet falling out of a closet on my head: can we expect bureaucrats to do this kind of job?   Gee, the I.R.S. or the U.S.P.S don't have people there who are a bundle of laughs.  Or consider our officeholders, who might have to set it up.  Can you imagine the Nancy Pelosi Joke Book, or John Boehner doing a show on the Comedy Network?  How about it falling under Homeland Security?  Well, they must have a sense of irony, given their name!

No, I'd sooner entrust this to the nuns, or to a random selection of names from the phone book.

Humor really remains as something we should assume personally as a social obligation.  We owe it to our fellow humans to make light of things sometimes, to look on the sunny side of life!  Let's all do our part, America!  Lighten up, Francis!*

Even "gentlemen's clubs may find occasion to be a little humorous:

*A line from Stripes, a very funny movie.

Too Many Amens

Unlike the solemnity and conviviality of most Sunday meetings at church, one in western North Carolina had an event that marred the occasion.

In turned out that two preachers, an older one and a younger one from the Sacred Ground Church With Signs Following, were sharing a convivial bottle of whiskey privately before the evening service, since one aspect of their religion was to disapprove of drinking in any form.  Still, the flesh was weak, and the whiskey was particularly blessed one night.

As a sure sign that they were looped, they started talking -- well, arguing -- about the remarkable opportunities for extramarital sexual activity their ministries allowed themselves access to.  So they made a bet, and each swore on his honor to tell the truth.  After church that Sunday evening, they were to stand in the door and shout "Amen!" when each woman they had sex with passed them on the way out.

That Sunday, each preached a short (a mere 40 minute) sermon, and the service ended after the usual suspect hymns.

As some of the women passed, the younger or the older preacher would say "Amen."  After a few passed, both said "Amen!"

The younger preacher's wife exited; and both of them exclaimed Amen!  The younger preacher got a dark expression on his face.

Just then, the older preacher's wife and daughter left.  The older preacher naturally said "Amen!"  He was, after all, married to her and was diligent in performing his husbandly duties.

The younger preacher shouted, "Amen!  Amen!"

The old preacher glared at the young one, turned bright red, and threw a punch.  The young one hit back, and the two of them went at it on the church floor in front of the entire congregation.  It was so sudden and so bad that they had to call in the sheriff's deputies to arrest them!

That evening the deacons held an emergency meeting, and they voted unanimously to withdraw fellowship from both preachers due to their setting a bad example and not following the Lord like they should.  But they never found out why the two of them started fighting!

True Love-Detecting Bra and the Two-Factor Theory of Emotions.

Ravijour, a Japanese company, is currently marketing a True Love-Detecting Bra, presumably as a novelty item.  You can get an idea about this product by visiting this site and viewing the YouTube video.

Basically, the bra has within it a sensor which monitors the wearer's heart rate and other vitals.  Data from these measures is constantly transmitted via Bluetooth to a mobile phone which processes the data using a special app and measures the heart rate elevation using special algorithms and preset data and it is only when your heart has truly found that special someone then it would beat in a way that the app would recognize and wirelessly unhook the bra.

As the descriptive material advises,"Ladies can relax as not any changes in heart rates will unhook the bra as the experts at Ravijour say it is only when a woman falls in true love does she get excited enough for the Adrenal Medulla to secrete Catecholamine which affects the autonomic nerve and increases the heart rate which is detected by the sensor and processed by the specially developed iOS app."

Isn't technology wonderful?  Well, I have a few concerns.

1)  Love, as well as any other emotional experience, is not reducible to a specific set of physiological responses.  According to the Schachter-Singer theory of emotion, any emotional experience has two components: the physiological state itself, and the cognitive awareness or interpretation of why that experience is happening.  In other words, the pleasures of his (or her) company, the positive experiences that are transpiring, the person's charm and sincerity all come together with the physiological arousal to result in that wonderful and complex experience that is inferred into "I am falling in love with that person."*

2)  How sensitive are the measures in fact?  Many commercial products that purport to measure physiological events are notoriously low in reliability.  And the Love-Detecting Bra does not factor in the cognitive awareness of the wearer.

3)  One's bra becoming unhooked should never just automatically happen in the moment.  The moment should be private, planned, and after a suitable passage of time or occasions.** 

To take an extreme case:  Suppose I was wearing one of these bras, and it suddenly happened while I was giving a presentation to a graduate class that I would suddenly be overcome with these physiological responses due to another student's presence.  (Yes, getting smacked by true love in the moment!!!!!)  Frankly, the last thing I would to happen is to have a bra malfunction at that time!  Besides the embarrassment, it might actually serve as a distraction to lessen the likelihood of their being a reciprocal response on his part.)

4)  Suppose you just want to get out of your bra for other reasons.  Will there be Prince Charmings around to make house calls or road service?

http://geekologie.com/2014/01/bra-clasp-only-unhooks-when-true-love-is.php

*In the future I plan to write about misattribution of emotional states, but that is another story.

**Think of the old-time intimacy rules.

Ramblings About a New Orleans Girlhood

 I'm the youngest in my family: two older sisters and two older brothers.  Growing up in the 1990's, I was allowed to be a free-range kid within the bounds of the Lakeview neighborhood, zip code 70124.  Yeah, I was a bit of a tomboy but only one aunt worried about that.

When I was in high school, I dated a bit, starting when I was about 15-1/2.  I had a Midnight curfew on weekends; 10 P.M. on nights when I had school the next day.  Some of my friends thought, or at least expressed the opinion, that I was too controlled by my mother.  Actually, when I started at the University of New Orleans, Mama told me that, since I was now an adult university student (hee hee), I no longer had a curfew and could choose to come home when I wanted.  Funny thing, I never told anyone that I was curfewless.  This worked in giving me an excuse for getting me home from dates in was not wild about, plus sympathy points from guys.  Frank confession: my enjoyment quotient flags at around Midnight, anyway.  I'm an early riser.

Like most teens, I had an illicit drink on now and then.  I never drank and drove.  We did pranks, like putting detergent in fountains or hiding garden gnomes.

Dee-Doh (pet Acadian name) was the first boy I kissed deeply.  Okay, there was a little more . . . . We debated whether we should have brought it up in confession.  Our relationship is mostly Platonic, and we have a lot in common.  We helped each other through each others' relationships.  I think that both boys and girls benefit from having a sympathetic friend of the opposite sex.

Our family was officially in St. Dominic's Parish in Lakeview; but where we attended mass was strictly a matter of convenience.  Or amusement.  And especially to avoid priests who gave long sermons.  Fifteen minutes is enough, tops!  Daddy used to look at his watch subtly (he thought).   I used to love to go to St. Louis Basilica in the French Quarter because it was so campy and baroque.  My aunt used to do flying novenas there, and take me along.  Afterwards, we would get coffee and beignets.  She knew how to do religion!

I was asked to be an altar server, but did not attend sufficient classes to become official.  Tant pis!  I might have been a swell nun someday!

I got the sex talk when I was about thirteen.  It was matter-of-fact and non-judgmental.  When I turned sixteen and started to date, Mama took me to a doctor so he would prescribe me birth control pills just in case.  I took them for over three years before I actually had occasion for them!  I told Mama about how things went when I went out with guys, and she was very supportive.  Okay, I'm a Mama's girl!

I attended Catholic schools.  They were really not as awful as the internet folklore would have it.  As a matter of fact, the ones I attended were quite easy-going.

Not surprisingly, considering my temperament, I stuttered a bit.  Also, I have a hot temper and was actually on antianxiety medication for a while.  Any sweetness on my part was strictly due to Ativan and other antianxiety meds.


I still think of the Times-Picyaune as the apotheosis of newspapers, and WWL-TV as the one to watch, especially for the 10:00 news. 

Some French groups had communal dances, called fais do-dos.  Actually, to fais do-do means to go to sleep.  I occasionally slipped after leaving Louisiana, and said that I was going home to "make do-do."  It's hard to shake the hometown idiom.  And, yeah, I walk on banquettes and think of mixed breed dogs as cayoodles.  Words to not use in the Great Elsewhere.

I worked for a while as a barista.  All of us had part-time jobs and it gave we an additional reference group in addition to classmates.  It helped me be more outgoing and less shy.  And, darn it, I liked dispensing mildly addictive caffienated drugs to people!

I got my driver's license at 16.  Dad taught me to drive in City Park and on the streets of Lakeview.  I think he might have aged a bit in the process!

Oh yes, I wore what I call my faux purity ring.  The Baptist girls in the neighborhood flaunted theirs, so I had to wear a piece of junk jewelry to keep up and not be regarded as a Jezebel by them.

What to wear?  Mama helped me shop.  Once she encouraged me to wear brighter colors and more daring clothes than I was inclined.  She liked to make costumes, and was quite skilled and imaginative.

I was warned not to go down Bourbon Street unaccompanied.  This is something that the locals have to deal with: the French Quarter being both attractive and treacherous, especially for the young.  Retrospectively, I think that is good advice.  Stepping over vomituses or being pawed by intoxicated tourists is not too cool.  That's a reality that locals in New Orleans have to live with.  The French Quarter can be quite hazardous after dark if you're a lone female.  I think it's imperative that girls develop street smarts.

My eldest sister had her own room.  My two brothers shared their room, and I shared one with my older sister.  We learned not to get in each others' hair, and that at times we needed a little private time.  In a lot of ways, she and I were good roommates.

Sometimes Daddy, when he would take recreation, would occasionally play the ponies at the Fair Grounds, and he took me along sometimes.  He enjoyed taking us on special occasions for breakfast at Brennan's (brunch) to dine en famille.  At home, we were offered beer or wine when the parents would have it at dinner -- no age limit!  Same with mixed drinks.

My grades fell down during Mardi Gras season.  That's because Mama, Maw-Maw, my sibs, and I went to a parade each night.  I was a C student because of this.  I made A's and B's in Math and Chemistry, but sucked at English and History.

I was on the track team, and ran the half-mile and mile.  I used to go to Tad Gormley stadium and practice with the guys at the open sessions for track and field practice.  That was considered daring by some of the girls who were rather stiff in the fanny and thought my going was for other purposes than for running.  Cross my heart, you all!  I'm not telling a story.  Guys in sports were encouraging to girls who also went in for it; only old guys and nonathletic girls had issues with us.

I've been told that I speak with a New Orleans Yat accent.  So where ya'at?  In addition to English, I speak passable Acadian French (It would barely pass in Paris!) and Louisiana Creole.  I am reminded, however, of the words of François Villon: "There is no good speech except in Paris."  The French, and the old Creole families of New Orleans, are trés snobby about their French.  Cajuns are not. 

My grandmother was skeptical of the pretentions of the Creoles (families who descended from the days of the colonial settlement).  As she used to say, the Creoles are like the Japanese: they eat rice and worship their ancestors.  She had a keen view of things and an unihibited tongue.

My girlhood extended into adulthood; but effectively ended on August 29, 2005 with Katrina.  Enough said. 

Living in New Orleans allowed me to be less inhibited about things.  It's true, we tend to be tolerant of others' bad habits.  And even encourage a few.  After all, it's easier to live in a community where the bar of acceptable conduct is set fairly low and human fraility is not only accepted but encouraged.

Expanding the Market on Bridal Garters

I must admit that the custom of wearing a flimsy bridal garter as part of the wedding ensemble is a charming touch; definitely one which would enhance the wedding experience when removed in private by her newly-wedded spouse.  

The part of the groom publicly removing the garter as part of the post-ceremony hijinks at a reception, then tossing it to a group of bachelors, not so much.  Many bridal garter sets come with two garters:  a more elaborate one for a wedding keepsake, and a smaller one for the toss. As a matter of fact, I find the garter toss to be tacky!  Especially so if he uses his teeth to remove it!  Now everyone expects the newly-wed couple to do it, but too naked an allusion does coarsen the solemnity of the affair.  (Angel sniffs disapprovingly, then stamps her foot.)  Coming in second is the bride tossing the bouquet to the as-yet-unmarried women and girls.  That can be hard on those in their thirties, especially if they have to compete for the bouquet with teenage girls!* 

Anyway, couples tend to get married at an older age, and more often with less formality and traditional wedding trappings.  That's bad news for the wedding industry.  Anyway, there were fewer weddings in part due to the decline in birth rate since the heyday of the Baby Boomers!

Sheila's Fine Bridal Garters was a company experiencing this demographically-induced recession, and the owner called a meeting to deal with this problem.  The staffers all realized that, indeed, there was a problem.

Finally, Clara, who had gotten a marketing degree from an on-line institution, proposed that Sheila's Fine Bridal Garters should diversify the potential market: repositioning them as possibilities in other circumstances, as well.

The CEO of the company was intrigued, and invited Clara to expound on her thinking.

"Well, Sir, we could start to market a line of Promwear Garters.  After all, some Millenials do wait for prom night to lose their virginity.  This would help make it a special event."

"Hmmm....."

Clara quickly added, "Well, we could also offer a line of First Time Garters or You Got Lucky Garters.  This would provide the guys with some tangible proof to his boon companions that he indeed got lucky."

Wilhelmina, the accountant, observed, "But the company is Sheila's Fine Bridal Garters.  Wouldn't marketing to the prom crowd or the casual affair market get us off-message?"

Clara replied, "Well, maybe the company should shorten its name to "Sheila's Fine Garters."

Sakura, who sometimes dressed whimsically in the Lolita look, added, "You could seek the niche market by offering black and red Elegant Gothic Lolita Garters.

Wilhelmina doggedly added, "What about the moral implications?  Would we garner bad publicity by seeming to support promiscuity?"

Clara observed, "Yes and no.  Yes among the prudes; but not among the groups that we are targeting."

This just goes to show that a little creative marketing can transform a company in the doldrums into one that is known for its innovation in development.  Sometimes it just calls for a different paradigm!  As a further example, there are already sports team-themed garters. 

Mike might find this one to be especially of interest.

*In some Cajun weddings, it is a tradition that, if a younger brother or sister marries before the older one, the older one must dance with a broom at the wedding dance.

Return to Humor

I've written about gravitas, politics, battle-axes, and in general been free with opinions all over the place.  And tossing big words here and there.  Suddenly, it's like, gee, I'm one of those who would write for heavyweight publications like Atlantic or The New York Times or Cosmopolitan, for God's sake!  And, frankly, I'm out of my league.

Anyway, I'm into humor, and think that chicks can do it too.  Even blondes in their twenties with small hooters!

Someone said or wrote that, "Life's a comedy, for those who wish it to be.  Have fun; none of us are getting out alive."  So, enough of my serious crap!

Here's a short blonde joke:

Several blondes were driving through Louisiana. As they were approaching the town of Natchitoches, they started arguing about the pronunciation of the name. They argued back and forth until they stopped for lunch.*

As they stood at the counter, one blonde asked the manager, "Before we order, could you please settle an argument for us? Would you please pronounce where we are - very slowly?" The manager leaned over the counter and said, "Burrrrrrrr-gerrrrrrr-Kiiiiing."

*For the benefit of the curious, it's approximately "Na-ka-tosh."