(Note: I apologize for my weekend absence. While I was ‘away’, I’ve moved
all most random snippets of the site contents to a different server. If you’re reading this, you’ve reached our new home, so there’s nothing more to do but soak it up and enjoy. Hopefully, this will keep things around here rock-stable, highly available, and sunshine fresh. In other words, all the things I’m personally not, most of the time. Smashing.
Oh, and do let me know if you see anything wonkier than usual around here. I’m sure I’ve left some odd bits and loose ends hanging. Now let’s get to the post.)
I’ve always been fascinated by people’s propensity for metaphor, especially when it comes to feelings of happiness. It seems the preferred ways of expressing joy mostly rely on equating it to other sorts of good feelings. Thus, we can be ‘high on life’, ‘drunk with love’, or ‘dizzy with excitement’. All of the giddy, exciting, potentially dangerous ways of feeling good have been incorporated into handy metaphors to tell others just how gosh-darned peachy we’re feeling.
“Why, when we compare our euphoria to intoxication, narcotilation, and vertigositation, do we exclude the one ‘natural high’ that’s left?”
All, except for one. Why, when we compare our euphoria to intoxication, narcotilation, and vertigositation, do we exclude the one ‘natural high’ that’s left? The one that sends our hearts aflutter, our cheeks aflushed, and our lips atremble? It seems obvious to me that we need another metaphor for happiness, this time taking advantage of comparisons to the more carnal of instincts. It’s time we were horny-style happy.
(As an aside, I do realize that ‘lust for life’ has been in circulation for a while, but it doesn’t really fit the bill here. After all, ‘lust for life’ doesn’t really connotate happiness, exactly.
Frankly, I’m not entirely clear on what it connotates. As far as I can tell, it should either be used to describe a reckless thrill-seeker, or someone who spends a lot of time with a hand down their pants.
Not that someone couldn’t qualify on both counts, of course. Hugh Hefner comes to mind — though, in his defense, it’s probably most often someone else’s hand. ‘Lust for life’, indeed.)
I’ve decided to take it upon myself to work a ‘horny’ metaphor for happiness into common usage. As a matter of fact, I’ve already started a guerrilla campaign. Whenever it’s seemed appropriate in the past few days to express my pleasure, I’ve done so in a decidedly ‘horny’ way. I think the results speak for themselves:
An old friend from school called unexpectedly last week; I hadn’t seen or heard from him in years. So I made sure to impress that I was ‘downright horny to hear from you‘. Soon after that, he suddenly had to go; he said his cat had unexpectedly caught on fire. I sure hope he calls back. And I hope the cat’s okay, too.
At my employee review a few days ago, the boss told me that not only wouldn’t I be summarily escorted from the building soon, I might even get a raise. I told her I was ‘hornied pink to hear that‘. She’s started locking her office door when we both stay late now.
After a long grueling Monday, my wife and I were relaxing earlier tonight on the couch. It was such a relief to be resting in the comfort of my own living room, I felt compelled to remark how ‘nice and horny it feels to take a load off‘. She’s in the bedroom now, sleeping in three sweatsuits and with one eye open.
So the first wave of ‘horny-phors’ hasn’t worked out so well. But it’s going to happen. Those other ways of saying ‘happy’ are tired, worn out, and overused. We’ll feel so much better with a fresh new metaphor to help us out. We’ll be as horny as clams in no time. You’ll see.