Cue

Cue: (v) anything said or done, on or off stage, that is followed by a specific line or action

The cues are off.

Somebody has stolen the script of human behavior and has messed with the stage directions so that we, the actors, do not know when and how to respond.

It’s subtle.

There was a time when someone in pain would cue empathy.

There was certainly a season when belligerence would cue disfavor instead of a bizarre outburst of admiration.

Do you remember a time when sitting by a fire would cue some intimacy or even singing without us feeling phony?

I’m telling you—the cues are off.

We used to rely on romance to cue sex.

Now we appear to hope that a well-planned calendar of sex will initiate romance.

A discussion of women’s rights used to cue men to consider the misogyny that still existed in them. Now such a conversation just makes guys get quiet—pretending to give a shit.

The cues are off.

There are fewer and fewer prayers of thanksgiving because there are too many prayers for victims of tragedy.

There is less holding of doors for others.

It’s become inexplicably important for us to enter first.

Free-flowing conversation among friends has turned into a chess match as we carefully pick our words so as not to offend or come across unenlightened.

Where is the cue that welcomed humility instead of the stiffness of foolish pride?

The cues are off.

Therefore the play acted out every day doesn’t seem to make sense. It fails to develop a plotline which leads to a story which gives us hope that the conflict in our second act can be resolved by the denouement. (Sometimes we even fail to get the cue to look up the word “denouement,” but instead, decide that the writer is too fancy.)

What are the cues?

How do we know how to be human beings on the stage unless we’re prompted to provide our best performance?

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

 

Cuddle

Cuddle: (v) to lie close and snug; nestle.

Among the great myths floating down to us mortals from Mount Olympus is the assertion that women “like to cuddle” just as much or more than actually having sex.

This particular fable is favored by men so they don’t have to worry about the female orgasm and can spend about two-and-a-half minutes with their arm around their girlfriend and then roll over and go to sleep.

Meanwhile, the young lady is supposed to be completely satisfied having her face stuck into the hairy armpit of a gentleman friend, who really only desires to stop panting so he can go to sleep.

Let me give you a clue:

A woman who has had an excited sexual experience and orgasmed also wants to roll over and recover from the experience.

A woman who did nothing but permit the pleasure of her mate may wish to settle for a squeeze, a hug and a hair stroke and call it a day, but any member of the human race who has sex and achieves orgasm is not that interested in confirming it or enhancing it by being a cuddle bug.

I know there are people who will disagree and there are women who insist that they “just love to cuddle.”

(Actually, some men voice this as well, but we won’t get into it.)

When human sexuality is done correctly and a little bit of surface sweat breaks out all over the body and the toes tingle at the highest point of arousal and breathing is heavy, the natural conclusion to celebrate the experience is to bless one another with a great night’s sleep.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

 

Address

Words from Dic(tionary)

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Address: (n.) the particulars of the place where someone lives or where an organization is situated.

150 Letts Avenue.

That was my first address. It’s where I grew up. We were a family of seven living in a two-bedroom house that was less than twelve hundred square feet. In most cases, that would qualify us for subsisting in the third world.

But in Sunbury, Ohio, it was my home. And when you’re a kid, you don’t spend a lot of time considering social status, closet space or the particular drape of a curtain. You just get by.

If you do it right, you spend more time outside, where the square footage is only limited to the amount of panting you can tolerate following a sprint.

My friends had bigger houses–what you might call a “better address.” Interesting phrasing. They also lived on Letts Avenue, but their parcel of land yielded more prosperity. But we didn’t look down on each other–at least, I don’t think so. There may have been parents in the neighborhood who told their kids not to play with me because I was “Little House Johnny,” but I was not aware of the slight.

Since then I’ve had many addresses. Big, small, bathtubs, showers, dishwashers… even swimming pools.

Presently I don’t have a home address because I’m traveling. This causes some folks to shake their heads and smirk as they comment on my “gypsy lifestyle.” But all in all, home is where you hang your hat. At least, that’s what they say.

But if you can’t afford a hat, I guess home is just where you hang.

As I look back on it, I had great fun on Letts Avenue. Even though all the moms and dads were concerned about money and prestige, the kids were concerned about snacks and play. Maybe that’s what happened to me. Maybe I never grew up.

Because I am certainly, to this day, more concerned … about playing and snacking.