Sunday, November 17, 2013

Dirty Snuggler

I know what it sounds like, and it's exactly what you are thinking. This post isn't about twins or being a parent or anything like that. It's way worse.

There is an actual business that opened up in Madison, WI where you PAY to snuggle. Like money. To snuggle. Well, actually, for an hour of "touch therapy". The song "Tiny Dancer" immediately popped into my head: "Hold me closer, dirty snuggler. I paid you 60 for the houuuuur". $60 an hour? Fuck that. For that much money, I better be able to choose if I want to be the big spoon or the little spoon.

 I'm just confused. It brings up so many questions. What is the target population to this place? There are pictures of very attractive people, just snuggling away on the website, but I assure you, I doubt this is the type of clientele that will be patrons of this fine establishment. You know that hairy, sweaty guy that you avoid eye contact with at the store? Yeah, client numero uno. The needy, clingy chick that smells like despair? Yep, repeat costumer. Don't even get me started on all the politicians in the states capitol.

 Another question would be, what in the world is the staff thinking? What an awkward class reunion that could make.
"So, what do you do?
"I am a professional snuggler"
"Oh my God, you're a smuggler? Should you really be that open with what you do, with drugs and all?"
"No, I'm a snu...forget it."
What if you go up to a PS (pro snuggler) and give them a hug that lasts a little too long. That'll be $5 sucker. Or if  family member wants a session ONLY with you, because they would be uncomfortable with a stranger?

I'm very curious to see what a session would all entail. I picture walking into a dimly lit room with a bed (naturally). Will the bed be too hard? Do I get to pick my PS out of a lineup? Because I wouldn't want to end with a Sasquatch that mouth breathes into my ear. Ok, so you're in there, picked out the PS, assumed the non-sexual position and...and...what? Feel the loving, paid for embrace of a stranger? Is there talking involved? I wouldn't want to talk because there's nothing worse than forced conversation with someone who is ALL UP ON MY ASS. Could I snuggle for a bit in silence  and then go on Facebook or text or something? Because that's real life.

Are there options for different positions? Or is it all just hugging from the back? Can we front hug/snug? I would think that would be out of the question, because you never know if Mr. Dingy would pop up to say "hi". Of course, the website claims that it's non-sexual, but when's the last time you snuggled with anyone without humping (dry or otherwise) beforehand? It's a well known fact that spooning leads to forking, am I right? I'm sure that's not their intention. They are just trying lift up people's spirits through the power of full body contact.

Ok, last burning question. (Well, I probably shouldn't call it burning. You never know, I may someday choose to try Touch Therapy and I wouldn't want it to get back to them that anything from me was burning.) Why Madison? I could see a big city on one of the coasts or down south, but Madison? It's a town full of damn hippies! I'm sure if you went down to State Street, you'd find someone to uncomfortably snuggle with you for free. The first ones ALWAYS free.

So there you have it. Social media has depleted us of our social skills so badly, that we have to set up craziness like this. These things will pop up all over the country. Soon you'll have the Snuggle Shack, The Cuddle Corral and the seedier Poon Spoon. But, if anyone does take a chance and goes to this place, let me know how it is. And enjoy yourself, Mother Snuggler.

Monday, November 11, 2013

Mommy and Daddy Fun Time (Day 2 &3)

I had gotten sleep. Hardcore sleep. My body hurt after it. That's either a sign that I'm old or the bed was horrible. Regardless, I was able to get like, 9 hours of sleep AT ONE TIME! I had wanted to take a dip in the hot tub, but the hippie market was calling us.

We went to the farmers market day around the capitol. Brad had mentioned that a singer (Pat) that we used to see live while in college was going to be performing. I had never seen him perform any earlier than 9pm, so I knew it was going to be interesting seeing as it was 10 am. If I had to pick out my favorite part of Pat's performance, it would have to be the chorus of one of his songs, which ends in "Screw you". Loved the look on parents faces when Pat didn't sing it, but the audience sang it and fairly loud. I enjoyed what I had heard, but not as much as the middle aged blond with the short patchwork mini skirt and the two adolescent children who were singing songs verbatim. That lady was doing so much wrong and so much right. We left after a few songs, but I wonder if he encored with "Sex and Beer"?


Other highlights of the afternoon:


-Thousands of people, and LOTS of hippies, walking around a block in several different lines looking at food. Conformists.


-A big cardboard display exclaiming that evolution is not real. "Evolution is NOT real. SHOW ME YOUR EVIDENCE". I didn't feel like arguing with an idiot and I become physically ill at confrontation. I wonder if they believe in the Darwin Awards?


-Day drinking! Granted, it was only one old fashion at The Old Fashioned, but it was damn good. I got all pink-faced and fuzzy feeling. The chunks of fruit on the bottom can suck my ass though. Makes it harder to get to the booze.


And one not so good highlight. It began to rain. I trusted Brad to know his way back to the parking ramp. My trust faltered as he took the most convoluted way back. I was wet, I couldn't catch my breath (from being sick, not from severe lack of exercise my entire life) and our damn umbrella was conveniently in the car. Brad's taller than me and his stupid long legs work way more efficiently. So of course, I always walk several steps behind him. Once we took 4 right turns, I started to get annoyed. Now, I'm not geometry genius, but I'm pretty sure he didn't know where he was going. So I became paranoid and suspicious. If he wanted me to get some exercise in on this trip, he could have asked me so I could have told him no. We stopped at a bus stop hut thing, but NOT because he was getting his bearings. Of course.

 I do NOT like Pina Coladas, nor getting caught in the rain.
I may not have looked very soaked , but I was. And not in the "hey, we're both wet, let's make out in the rain and slip into a dry martini". More like, "hey, I'm gonna take these wet jeans off when we get back and slap ya in the head with them".  But, we eventually made it back to the car and I bit my tongue (for the most part).
Returning to the hotel, I believe I took a nap. We were going to go swimming, but I think we just swam on State Street.
A few hours later, it was time to go to dinner. Brad was going to surprise me with a place that he had found. I asked what the dress code was and now that my day outfit was drenched, I needed to know if I should wear what I wore the previous night. He told me, and I quote, "Anything. You could wear a sweatshirt. Don't matter". Oooookkk, clothes from the night before it was.
I'm so glad I didn't listen to him, because he took me to like a freaking 5 star restaurant, called Harvest. It was an all local, organic, hoity (but not toity) place. It was niiiiiice. Like, I can't take pictures of my food, nice. We got to sit down right away, in a softly lit room that was as lovely as any small wedding venue would be. As soon as we sat down, I told Brad that if he would have allowed me to walk into this heaven in yoga pants and a Brewers sweatshirt, I would have ended him. The waiter came up and gave us an amuse bouche compliments of the chef. I only knew what it was because I watch Food Network. It's a tiny appetizer (because I can't properly spell o'douerve) that is meant to cleanse the palate. Whatever it was, it was pretty tasty. While waiting for our fancy first course, I couldn't help but to overhear the conversation at the table next to us. It was two couples, one English and one American. They were talking about their holiday in South America and Europe. Possibly Africa, but some of the countries sounded unfamiliar or made up. I can't remember. They smelled of leather bound books (not really, well,  maybe). Just overall classy with a capital C.  I wish I could remember specific quotes, and I remember hearing some and thinking "Damn, I should blog about these dandies" but I can't remember. I don't even remember if I ate breakfast today or not. I felt very inferior to them. In fact, after I returned from the bathroom, it took all of my power not to announce "Shitter's full", just so everyone knew there was a line for the bathroom. Instead, I drank a fancy adult beverage, ate a dessert that was prettier than I was at prom and we left. Naturally, we got into Fat Kid zone and walked over to Ian's to get a slice of pizza for a midnight snack.
Cut to the next morning and it was already over. Sad day. The girls were happy to see us though and that makes me happy.
But let's hope it happens again before a year has passed.