Posts Tagged “men”
Sep
29
2009
I am a dad, and pretty busy, but after reading the snark-dumb of the recent Frisky article “22 Things Women Can Teach Their Sons About Women and Relationships“, (is it 22 things per the title? 15 per the link title? 18 per the CNN title? Come on ladies make up your mind!) I feel I would be remiss if I did not respond in kind. I know an awful lot about men and how to avoid irritating them, so I plan to pass that knowledge down to women in hopes that it will stem the flow, so to speak, of antagonistic gender bullying.
I hope to rid the female sex of all the things that make us rant by raising women with balanced male and female perspectives. Here are the 22 things I’d teach them.
1. Stop fucking with your hair so much. It’s weird. Get a simple cut, one that you can maintain. No woman should be spending over 100 dollars a month on hair care, nor should it take more than 5 minutes to go from “showered” to “ready”.
2. If you want a guy to go down, make sure you have a clean plate, and keep the parsley to a minimum
3. Pick up your feet when you walk, especially if you are the kind of slattern who insists on wearing flip flops every day.
4. If someone tells you that you are being “crazy”, you should evaluate your behavior. It isn’t an idle statement, it’s a subjective opinion that your behavior and thinking are not sane or rational.
5. Cooking, cleaning, and taking care of children are tasks related to establishing a home. A woman can be proud of these things.Young women should be taught to prepare food. Far too many women today are fucking clueless in the kitchen. It isn’t a prison, it’s a life-skill. Know it, and be ashamed of yourself until you do.
6. Stop looking to the eating of food as the solution to your problems. Chocolate is a fattening treat, not a therapy device.
7. Don’t ask your man to do things he does not want to do simply because you want to see if he will. It’s insulting, and he will hate you for it.
8. Gifts are another way of buying you. If you are for sale, then whore up, whore.
9. A woman who earns more than a man is a novelty. Spend less time wondering how it impacts men and more time using your position to set right the imbalances in the sexes with regard to your immediate workplace.
10. Men have nuts. Nuts itch. Welcome to the world.
11. Be on time. Seriously. It’s fucking rude to show up late.
12. Don’t spend more time shopping than you do volunteering. Life is more than pants.
13. If he does not make you happy in bed, it’s because you aren’t telling him what you need done.
14. Stop having so many favorites. A daisy, a tulip, a rose, a buttercup – all have merit, all matter, and all are indicative of the fact that the guy actually thought about you. Take the fucking thing, and smooch him. Be happy someone cares whether or not you are alive.
15. Get the fuck over your shoes.
16. If he does not listen to you, your rhetoric is shamefully dull. Think more, speak less.
17. Sharts happen.
18. Your emotions should be natural. If you are crying to get optimal action from someone else, you are scum.
19. Just because you are fat does not mean you have a great personality. Odds are, you are fat AND narcissitic, fat AND
underread, fat AND suffering from Halitosis. Work it out.
20. Avoid his family, odds are they are assholes.
21. Never say that someone will never understand you. You are not a riddle, a puzzle, or an enigma. You are flesh, sweat, and jokes. If you cannot fuck, function, or be fun, STFU and work on it.
22. Tell your mother to mind her own goddamned business, or he will hate you for it.
Tags: chocolate, cnn, Cooking, crazy, daughters, eating, fat, flip flops, flowers, food, frisky, gift, girls, hair, late, men, mother, on time, relationship, shopping, somacow, sons, teach, volunteering, walk, whore, women I love women, don’t get me wrong. But they…it’s just…they can’t…they always have to… WHY CAN’T THEY MAKE UP THEIR FREAKIN’ MINDS?! So, you buy a house. By which I mean you visit every one of the 1,800 model homes in your area, pretending to be interested when the woman says “I love the vaulted dormer soffits” or “this would make a perfect breakfast nook!”. Look, I’m a man, I have no idea what a “breakfast nook” is. It sounds like a kind of English Muffin. Then, you move all your furniture and crap in, which is a seven-week process, during which you nearly lose a finger in the footrest of the recliner and, even if you never set foot in the attic, you somehow always wind up with fiberglass insulation in your hair. The point is that you haul your years of accumulated “treasures” into your brand new house. Then, exhausted and most likely bleeding, you collapse onto the chaise lounge (for which the cushions have not yet arrived) and you think to yourself “Finally this is over!”. Ha! You are a foolish little man. Why? Because, what is the very next thing the woman in your life wants to do? “Christen” the house by having sex in each and every room, including the closets, pantry, attic, garage and various crawlspaces in the ceiling? No. She wants to redecorate and remodel! You can plan on spending every Sunday for the rest of your life moving furniture in a circular pattern around each room, until it finally winds up back where it was to begin with. The tons of furniture that you moved in by hand will, of course, immediately need to be replaced with more expensive furniture because your college beanbag chair “looks ratty next to the elegant armoire”. Hey! When we loaded up the trucks, there WAS no armoire. Suddenly, one has appeared, complete with knick-knacks (which she will now complain about having to dust). Men don’t have knick-knacks! We have old copies of Playboy! I have never dusted mine once and they are just fine! Now that you’re $24,000 in debt with “The Home Furnishing Decor Salon Parlor and Bistro”, you can finally relax and enjoy your new home, right? Seriously? You’re going to fall for that again? No, now you have to open an account at “The House-Fixing Depot” because the “perfect love nest” that SHE chose has inexplicably become a “fixer-upper”. Dammit, woman! The house is only eleven hours old! I just don’t know how to cope with the standard female trait of never, ever being satisfied with anything they have. You want to know what I would do? You want to see my idea of “redecorating”? Do ya?! This is a diagram outlining the most convoluted redecorating plan I could POSSIBLY ever concoct, even after twelve beers (click the pic for full-sized image): Tags: boobs, decor, english muffin, Home Depot, home improvement, men, Playboy, recliner, redecorating, teen, womenI am a man. A man’s man; a guy; a d00d. As such, I am cursed with a very simple, rudimentary brain, a very short attention span and a trouser-dwelling companion who thinks he’s running the whole show from down there. I’m not complaining, exactly. Most of us men eventually learn to adapt to these limitations. It becomes second nature, like parallel parking or being able to kill a spider without standing on a chair screaming. Or not caring when people at the mall catch us scratching our junk. But it sure would help us out in the bedroom if you ladies could see your way clear to not complicating matters for us. I’m talking about your G-spot. Where the hell do you women keep your freakin’ G-spots?!?! Do you always bring them along, or do you sometimes leave them in your purse? I have personally found the legendary Holy Grail four times already (including once in a castle in England and once in a Sharper Image store), and I can tell you where Waldo is in an instant (he’s usually behind the concession stand), but locating the apparently migratory G-spot is usually way tougher. Is there any adequate device for achoring the G-spot into position? Having to chase one around the living room during foreplay is not very romantic. Maybe you sometimes forget to provide a G-spot, and are then too embarrassed to mention this to your partner. Have you ever locked your G-spot in your car? Did you have to call Triple A? Triple G? I have no idea what proper “G-spot etiquette” is. Is it poor etiquette to be the only partner having a G-spot? My Mom always used to say “If you didn’t bring enough G-spots for EVERYbody…” If we go out to dinner first, do you expect me to open your G-spot for you, check your G-spot with the coat attendant, or pull out your G-spot for you as we’re being seated? A tiny little clue would be nice. I think you women perpetuate these mysteries as just another tool in your “Convince Men That They are Inferior” toolbox, which I find highly unfair. Men will give YOU a four-page, double-spaced script, with notes in the margins, diagrams AND a PowerPoint presentation describing EXACTLY what we like, what we want you to touch, and PRECISELY where it is located. We leave nothing to chance. We don’t ask you to guess. I think this is very generous of us. So, if you would like us to be your knights in shining armor in the bedroom, a trail of breadcrumbs leading to YOUR own personal Holey Grail would be very much appreciated. Or a trail of tater tots. Or Fritos. And bring some dip too, please. And some beer. In fact, let’s just go out to the sports bar. Umm…what were we talking about? Tags: beer, boobs, etiquette, fritos, g-spot, holy grail, men, tater tots, teen, Where's Waldo? |








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