Sex Sells ... Math?

Sex has been used to sell a lot of things.  But math?

There's no reason the nice lady teaching your children their algebra shouldn't be attractive.  But I wonder.  If Danica McKellar was my eighth grade algebra teacher, what would I really remember from that class?  Polynomials, or something else?

Honestly, do we need the "boy crazy confessionals" and the Cosmo-style quizzes right on the cover?  And the titillation of the letter x?  Such blatant subtext: "It's a variable.  But put three of them together and it's pornography."

And how about the implication that it's not enough for our daughters to be smart, they have to be drop-dead sexy too?

Regular readers will forgive me, I hope, for putting pictures of pretty girls on my blog.  That's actually a lovely dress.  (The more persistent among you may find less even modest pictures a google image search away.  Not that I checked.)

Hey, remember Winnie Cooper from The Wonder Years?  Is it me or does that girl look familiar?

Don't Wear Your Pajamas to the Grocery Store

A branch of the Tesco grocery chain in Wales, UK, has felt it necessary to ban the wearing of pyjamas to their stores. 

I'm all for this, although I think "don't wear your pyjamas to the grocery store" is one of those things that should go without saying.  I don't want the government telling me what to wear, but I'll support a private business turning away customers who can't be bothered to throw on pants and a shirt before they leave the house.

I'm a huge pyjama fan, by the way.  I'll keep mine on all day, if I've got the day off and don't need to leave the house.  But what makes them seem so comfortable is the fact that I don't have to go out and do chores in them.  Pyjama time = relaxing time.

I've worked in a place where attendance at weekly meetings was mandatory.  This meant that some folks who attended the meetings wouldn't be scheduled to work a shift directly after, and so to compensate us for making the extra trip in, the regular dress code was relaxed.  I always dressed in my usual business casual for these meetings.  I might put on sneakers rather than dress shoes, if I was going to fit in some errands after.  But otherwise, a button down shirt and a sweater is as comfortable as a sweatshirt, if you ask me, and I've never enjoyed the feel of jeans.  I'll wear jeans when I'm working on the house, doing carpentry, or hauling sheet-rock around.  That's when you need the ruggedness of denim.  (Denim time = hard labour time.)

One of my co-workers chose to flaunt the fact that she could "dress down" by coming to the meeting in her pyjamas.  That was her prerogative, I guess.  But it's hard to think of someone as a professional when they're sitting there in pink flannel with a teddy bear motif.  It certainly didn't make it any easier to stay focused and awake at an early morning meeting.  It put one more in the mood for cuddling than collaboration. 

But if  you're not with the people nor in the place you do your cuddling, why go around pushing those psychological buttons?

Isaac Asimov's Sideburns

Yesterday I came across a couple pictures of Isaac Asimov as I was writing my post about The Naked Sun.  This picture is actually on the back of one of the vintage editions The Wife bought me.  Taken sometime around 1952, I'd guess, he seems every bit the mid-century young gentleman.

It was the first time I'd seen him without his characteristic sideburns.  Most folks are probably more familiar with the portrait below:

To which I say, man, what a neat looking old man.

I've tried the facial hair thing, and while it does lend a certain maturity and gravitas, it can't help but leave one looking scruffy and ill-groomed. 

It surprises me that sideburns aren't more popular.  You can use them to signal your masculinity, wisdom, and experience, and you can still kiss your wife without scratching up her face.