The GHH, continued
I will post a new blog, I swear, but in the meantime something keeps locking up the blog on the last one. I’m assuming it’s Bob’s post.
Here’s hoping this fixes the problem.
More than you ever wanted to hear from Jenny Crusie.
I will post a new blog, I swear, but in the meantime something keeps locking up the blog on the last one. I’m assuming it’s Bob’s post.
Here’s hoping this fixes the problem.
Julie B - I’ve had a visual of Fred Flinstone stuck in my brain all day. Grand PooBah.
Bob couldn’t have posted that comment without a “dialogue tag” and we would’ve guessed it was him.
Does a man really only know that he’s found the GHH if he’s done the dipping, or can he simply believe that he’s found it?
Or is that a woman thing, believing that He has the GR. Sort of like Scarlet and Ashley even once Rhett has turned up on the scene.
That’s the problem with Ashley - no sane reader can believe that Scarlet has deluded herself into thinking that he possesses the Magic HooHoo.
Marcia I have to agree. It was short and to the point. He kind of reminds me of “the guy with no name” in FISTFUL OF DOLLARS.
I digress, the other thing that amazes me is that the GHH post has almost as many comments as the debate about CTC on the Dear Author blog.
I have a question. Is hoo-ha glitter different from magical glitter?
I was just over at The Unfortunate Miss Fortunes rereading and it seems to me as if there’s a lot of glitter going on around the sisters. Is this a physical (metaphysical? supernatural?) manifestation of the glitteriness of their hoo-has hoo-hae?)or is it just a coincidence? Are the sisters unconsiously expressing their longing for the man who can appreciate their individual GHHs by giving off glitter residue like a pheremone when they work their magic? Said man would have to be accepting of the magic (which they hide from the world) and, by extension, those parts of themselves that are the most private thus making him a good candidate for a long term mate.
I’ve been itemizing grocery bills for the last two hours, I am not legally responsible for my actions or questions.
Only Mare comes close to glitter. Her magic is blue sparks. Lizzie’s is purple smoke and Dee’s is green fog.
Nobody glitters, really. Sparks are not glitter. Especially blue sparks. I tend to think of the GHH as pink glitter, for obvious reasons. I think blue glitter would send a mixed message.
maybe magicians have glitter squared. not so much the sisters (as Jenny explained above) but others. glitterly glitter. glistening glitter.
i just spent almost three hours at the gym. i’m not responsible for what i write either.
Plus remember, as Lani said, the glitter, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. It’s not something everybody can see, just the guy who’s met his One True Love.
Over on the writing workshop blog, Bob said:
“And Jenny is talking about hoo-haa or some such.
If I talked about that, I’d be in trouble.”
Not true. We’d all be too shocked that you said anything at all to give you grief about it. C’mon Bob, we’d all love to hear what you have to say about this new literary term and the GHH theory. Render us speechless.
BTW, I want you all to notice how polite and well-mannered and inoffensive I’m being by moving that off-topic comment over here where it belongs and not mucking things up over at the workshop.
I want a gold star. With silver glitter.
And a pony.
Virtue is its own reward, BCB.
Well, now look who’s off topic. Are we allowed to say the v-word over here?
I just figured since I was asking for the improbable, might as well throw in a request for a pony.
You never know.
I’m going to have to back up the GHH theory. But it only glitters for your One True Love. My Sweet Babou acts as though I have a GHH, but my first three fiancees cheated on me. I would like to think the glitter was always there, I just dated men too dumb to see it :0) Did anyone else ever read the fairy tale about the princess who was ‘cursed’ by her fairy godmother so that everyone saw her as butt-ugly, except her One True Love who saw the ‘real’ her, who happend to be beautiful? I always wondered … was she really butt ugly or really beautiful? And as long as your One True Love sees you as beautiful, does it matter if you are or not?
Exactly.
OK, I think we’re talking about multiple kinds of glitter here. There’s the soap-opera GHH which is irresistable to the hero, but highly noticeable to the bad guys, who want to kidnap GHH and have their way with her (possibly him, if we’re talking a more modern romance).
Then there’s True-Love GHH, which is only visible when some enchanted evening, two people fall in True Love. The crack cocaine of glitter, perhaps.
I think there must also be Smoke-Gets-In-Your-Eyes GHH, too, where it looks like true love in the bar, but looks like hell in the bright light of morning. JT and the actress springs to mind.
Then there’s just glitter and glamours of various sorts — magical, cosmetics, a really good hobby, a truly wicked tongue — that may or may not be connected to a GHH.
BTW, I’m using GHH in the Hoo-Ha *and* Hoo-hoo sense.
(-: But I can’t help thinking that when it comes down to it, glitter is pretty but worthless. The protag wants a HH that drips rubies and pearls . . . .
I think that’s more like false glitter. Fool’s Gold as someone said before. Its not GHH because its not the one true love.
Laura V. just analyzed one of the characters over on the Unfortunate Miss Fortunes’ blog as trying to manufacture GHH, trying too hard, shiny hair, espensive suit, etc. I love that concept, especially because it’s so futile. The GHH either is or isn’t, you can’t make it happen. That’s why it glitters.
Yesterday Sis and I discussed GHH and generally had a good time. Then Sis’ 6 yo daughter butted into the discussion: “You’re supposed to say vagina!” Who knew she was listening? Apparently, children are being taught these days to use only anatomically correct terms.
Only in the Cherry Community, where all things are possible, can I be so fascinated and entertained at 6am on a Saturday morning that I find myself thinking about physics before my first cup of coffee. This Magic Hoo-Hoo/Glittery Hoo-Ha stuff is great.
As I read and laughed, my subconscious kept booting up the concept of resonance, like in RLC circuits. I really thought I’d managed to flush all that electronic theory years ago, but there it was, and making so much sense. I mean, most of our communication is based on resonance (TV, cellphones, radio). And resonance only happens when circuits are perfectly balanced.
So, it follows that no matter how many GHH’s an MHH has been dipping into, or vice versa, the magic only happens when they find one (or THE one) that’s their equal but opposite. Sure, there’s still electricity without the balance, but there’s no resonance. No magic. Dull glitter. Which explains how Sam can be such a big dipper (yes, thank you, I did have to say it), yet do a behavioral 180 when he finally achieves resonance.
And, now I think of it, the whole chemistry of fluorescence works, too. How or who can make the glitter really glow. I need coffee for that one, though.
Also, Jenny and Lani should pick their favorite charity (or is that Cherrity?) so someone can sell panties with “GLITTERY” written in sparkle fabric paint across the front. Maybe add an embroidered cherry for the in crowd, although that might be in questionable taste, especially if the Cherry greeting turned from the secret handshake to panty flashing. Which could get RWA conferences raided. I can see the headlines now: ‘ROMANCE WRITERS IN PANTY RAID’.
Maybe I should substitute sleep for coffee.
Marta, I would love to see your paper on the resonace of GHH. :0)
And the big dipper joke almost killed me.
For full effect I think the panties should be boy cut gold glitter cloth with a big sequined cherry on the front and ‘da bomb’ written on the back. But not crotchless. That would be tacky.
Ooh, the panties are already out there. I have a pair in purple satin with pink trim, with a short spell written on the front (for luck in love or some such rubbish) and a small bag of glittery stars and moons attached. I never got round to using them, as I figured having a small trail of glitter follow me around probably would put off more men than it would attract. And the possibility of being followed by a small flock of magpies was also a deterrent…If only I’d known about the GHH theory when I bought them.
Anyway, I seem to remember getting them in New Look (a cheap and cheerful UK chain) a couple of years back, but I’ll see if I can dig them out and find out who makes them. They’re definitely good for a giggle, if not entirely practical. And I can’t vouch for the spell, either.
Bless you, K.L.; I am no longer baffled on LSHMTPO.
I was going to buy some fabric that’s a cherry apron panel and back it with cherry fabric, in honor of Agnes. I have changed my mind and am now going to buy some glittery lycra and some fabric paint. Maybe sequins? Though those would scratch up your hands as you pulled up your jeans, I guess.
Hi,
Jenny mentioned this thread elsewhere, I contributed something, and she asked me to repeat it here. It actually comes from a talk I gave a few years ago on the science of love and it explains pretty well the reformed rake, in my opinion.
So I dug out that talk so I could be a bit more coherent, and here’s the relevant bit.
This is largely based on research reported in Dr. Helen Fisher’s Why We Love (highly recommended) and is based on studies of voles, but supported on brain scans of humans.
The voles in question are two similar types with different mating behaviour. One is monogamous and the other lacks bonding behaviour, which turns out to be entirely because of the “wiring” of their brains. the non-bonding voles lack receptors in the recognition part of their brain, which means they don’t attach sexual pleasure to a particular person. Let me explain.
The prairie vole is monogamous and behaves much like most humans. They bond into couples, and couples groom each other, sleep together, and avoid other potential mates. The male guards the female from danger. They are affectionate, caring parents.
Their cousins the montane voles are not monogamous. They — both genders — are all for sex,but only as one-night-stands. We can call these the rakish voles.
Both voles court, going through similar patterns of behaviour in order to choose and win a partner, impelled by a complex pattern of triggers and hormones, mainly seratonin, dopamine and oxytocin. You may recognize oxytocin as an important part of human breastfeeding and the mother/baby bonding after birth. It’s the bonding hormone.
Humans do the same mating dance, almost as predictably as voles, and with almost the same triggers and hormones.
The hormones also create a lot of bliss, more and more of it as the voles become more and more intimate, and then an explosion at orgasm. Sound familiar?
So our voles have picked the one, and gone through the mating dance getting higher and higher on hormones, then have orgasms, which give a powerful new burst of hormones making them, in effect, crazy high.
Rakish Jane thinks something like, “Sex good! Males provide sex. Need more males!”
Bonding Jane, however, thinks, “Sex good! Sex with John good! Need more John!” If the system’s working, John things exactly the same about Jane.
This hormonal bonding has been explored and proved in labs. If scientists give the romantic voles drugs to block the action of these hormones in the recognition center of their brains, what happens? They turn into rakes. They are keen on sex, but they do it without commitment. They no longer attach to one one partner.
So what happens if the rakes are given a shot of those love hormones? Do they become bonded, devoted, monogamous lovers? No. The chemicals have no effect on them because they lack the receptors in the recognition part of the brain. Having no receptors is like not having a lock for a
key to go into. More keys, bigger keys, it doesn’t make any difference.
I think this explains perfectly the reformed rake so beloved of romances. It’s reasonable to assume that nearly all humans have the receptors, but that some have more, some less. Those with lots of receptors will likely
fall in love very quickly, perhaps even indiscriminately.
Those with none are fated never to bond, and not to understand what bonding is. Lovers make no sense to them.
But the romantic rake, the rake who can become the great devoted lover, I see him or her as a person with few receptors.
Look at it from their point of view. In laboratories, the brains of people crazy in love are almost identical to those of people taking cocaine. Doesn’t matter if they’re cops, queens, farmers with muddy boots, or prim governesses. They’re high, and they’re addicted to the source of their fix — the beloved. That’s how it’s supposed to be, because nature demands that they turn every faculty to reproduction.
Now here’s the rake. They meet people, they court after a fashion, they have sex, but they don’t attach. If they get bored they move on. If the partner attaches to them, they probably move on because that behaviour is freakish to them. No one thus far has the key that fits the very few locks in their brain.
Then one day they meet a person who does. Click into the lock, hormones in the brain, cocaine, high. Zap! They’ve just experienced an ecstatic sexual/relationship high for the first time in their life. They’ve been around, they’ve had sex with a lot of people and this has never happened before. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this person might be their only source of delirious delight in the universe.
They’re not just bonded. They’re obsessed. At best, this leads to the totally devoted mate who will do anything to keep and treasure the beloved. At worst, it leads to the stalker, imprisoner, and abuser who will never let this person escape and would rather see them dead and die afterward.
Make sense of the GHH? No mystery. Just chemicals.
Jo
I love this.
I like Fisher’s stuff, too, Jo.
So basically, the GHH is the key that fits the other person’s lock. Very nice.
Oh-ho, glitter as hormone! And it might explain unrequited love. Your key fits my lock, but my key doesn’t necessarily fit your lock . . . .
(-: The glitter panties as merchandising is priceless.
Jo- wow. that is so cool.
GHH. the wonders of it, the absolute wonders.
I love this, Jenny! I’m going to amend it a little since I write traditionals/no-sex-before-marriage and call it the Glittery SmoocHa! It will work perfectly for my wip playboy hero and now I have something to blog about, too. Full credit will be given to you and Lani, of course! Thanks so much!
The rake dynamic absolutely works with traditional romances. I started out with traditional regencies, and I had a few heroes who were rakes. Depending upon the definition of rake, he doesn’t have to be a jerk. Just because he has mistresses and even orgies, that doesn’t mean he’s going to grope respectable ladies at balls or try to seduce them, or worse.
In fact, as the hero of my MIP says to the nun, that sort of rake has no trouble getting sex. He doesn’t have to work that hard for it.
Jo
I was laughing up a storm reading the blog and all the comments, so much that I had to quickly finish and get back to work.
Afternoon break rolls around so I pull out my new Harlequin American Romance book and find this passage. The hero is thinking about the heroine here:
“After the company Christmas party almost three years ago he hadn’t wasted the opportunity to claim her. He’d pursued her, seduced her and found nirvana when he’d made love to her. Sex wasn’t necessarily a spiritual experience, but with Tori it was different. He’d never quite put his finger on why, only that she was somehow a part of him, one he hadn’t planned to let go.”
The GHH strikes again! Page 68 and she’s already got him hooked!
Okay, maybe my mind is guilty of venturing to the dark side - or at least the dirty - but I thought LSHMTPO stood for “Laughing so hard my tampon popped out.”
Even if I’m wrong, I think my translation was funnier.
Rachael I think you’re right about the use of LSHMTPO, because otherwise the follow-up cooment of “(or it would have if I weren’t post-menopausal)” makes no sense…
I love it!
I’m so glad to know the etymology of the glittery hooha! No surprise that it’s a TWoPism.
Wasn’t the movie called “About Last Night”?
dear god! so much trouble just to leave a comment…I forgot the point I was gonna make. such an interesting perspective on pussy, the GHH concept. Hasn’t it been described in every fairy tale every little girl with suburban descendence grows up with? Works like a Disney charm. Hollywood (where I live) is their natural environment, where you can pick them right out of the trees, or bushes (more appropriate) where they grow. thank you for taking time to pin point their habits, behaviors and instincts. Congrats for isolating, recongnizing and labeling a new species of pussy, in the evergrowing fauna of POMO.
This is my first visit to “Argh Ink.” I have come to the conclusion that women are fundamentally wacked, but I did love every second of it. A fact which clearly lends itself to the belief in the glittery hooha and its almighty presence.