Who the heck is Valentine and why'd we give this guy a day? Well, I suppose it could have been a woman. Actually, that makes more sense. Would men really be responsible for their own, endless annual torment? No way. Let me start again.
What the heck was Ms. Valentine thinking? Maybe something like, "Men suck! I'm gonna give them a Herculean task every February - I'll let them know telepathically that I want something, but not tell them - even telepathically - what it is. Then, when they completely fail at reading my mind, I'll bake the most dismal of dishes the Britons ever imagined and exert my passive aggression to the max. That'll convince him to appreciate me."
Here we see the way the twisted female mind functions - or rather, dysfunctions. I agree that many women have to work at their man to get those three particular words out, but why gift giving? Why do I have to scour the supermarkets in search of the freshest, most intact roses? Why do I have to take out a loan at the pawnshop to buy new or gently used jewelry every February? (Why do I seem more like white trash after writing this column?)
Well, this man says no more! I'm putting my foot down.
No more Olympic-sized teddy bears! No more 1-800-FLOWERS on my speed dial! No more apologies for getting an ill-fitting cashmere sweater! No more confusing fire and ice roses with impossible apocalyptic plant life!
How about we call a truce? Men can save a little dough ($$$), and women can save a little dough (mystery meat pies).
Here's what we'll do: We're gonna throw out the whole Valentine's Day name - the stigma is too great to overcome. We'll call it Armistice of Love Day (almost went for Pompatus of Love Day, but thought better). This will be the day for women and men to forgive misdeeds and forgetfulness, to overlook potbellies and sagging buns. To help us ignore each other's flaws, we're going to ignore each other. Men will go paintballing, snowboarding, or play a little Rock Band. Women will go … um, spend money? How ever we can go about a full day of not fighting over keeping feet off the couch or not eating over the kitchen sink, success in peace will be the goal of the day. And then we'll go back to the cats and dogs routine the next day.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
I owe ya
Here's another from my columns, this time on home remedies.
Home remedies!
Men have as much knowledge of home remedies as they do of home maladies – nil to none. Yeah, I can’t lie. It’s just not our forte.
Case in point: My father-in-law had a bad reaction to some strenuous work with snowmobiles – his hand swelled up to almost twice its size. How did he think he’d fix it? He thought he’d just wait it out. That’s all. And that’s what man does best. When we’re trying to watch the game or just getting into Guitar Hero, and the woman starts yelling from the kitchen, we’re cool to just let her yell and yell. She’ll give up soon enough. That kind of patience is just ingrained in men; it’s inherent in our genetic makeup. (OK, I made that last part up, but there’s no genetic evidence to prove me wrong … is there?)
And waiting it out is what men do well. If we can sit through a chick flick marathon without crying our eyes out (from boredom), we can wait out anything. It’s when we decide not to wait it out that men start to get a little … nuts.
There are a lot of crazy ideas men have. Remember the old guy Gus from “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”? That character was based off Nia Vardalos’s father who was addicted to window cleaner. He really sprayed that stuff on everything! (No, not really). But thinking that Windex will cure anything from psoriasis to paralysis sounds only slightly exaggerated. There have been other bad ideas I’ve heard of – pouring your own urine in your ear to stop ear infections, eating salmon eyes to prevent tooth decay, drinking chicken soup to stop a cold. It seems that if men want to solve something, they’ll brave just about anything (even embarrassment). But mostly men just ignore health issues like they do all of life’s other problems.
Home remedies!
Men have as much knowledge of home remedies as they do of home maladies – nil to none. Yeah, I can’t lie. It’s just not our forte.
Case in point: My father-in-law had a bad reaction to some strenuous work with snowmobiles – his hand swelled up to almost twice its size. How did he think he’d fix it? He thought he’d just wait it out. That’s all. And that’s what man does best. When we’re trying to watch the game or just getting into Guitar Hero, and the woman starts yelling from the kitchen, we’re cool to just let her yell and yell. She’ll give up soon enough. That kind of patience is just ingrained in men; it’s inherent in our genetic makeup. (OK, I made that last part up, but there’s no genetic evidence to prove me wrong … is there?)
And waiting it out is what men do well. If we can sit through a chick flick marathon without crying our eyes out (from boredom), we can wait out anything. It’s when we decide not to wait it out that men start to get a little … nuts.
There are a lot of crazy ideas men have. Remember the old guy Gus from “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”? That character was based off Nia Vardalos’s father who was addicted to window cleaner. He really sprayed that stuff on everything! (No, not really). But thinking that Windex will cure anything from psoriasis to paralysis sounds only slightly exaggerated. There have been other bad ideas I’ve heard of – pouring your own urine in your ear to stop ear infections, eating salmon eyes to prevent tooth decay, drinking chicken soup to stop a cold. It seems that if men want to solve something, they’ll brave just about anything (even embarrassment). But mostly men just ignore health issues like they do all of life’s other problems.
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