By Richard Peterson
Here’s an item on men which came to me in an e-mail. This is published as a public service to help women better understand men:
Because I’m a man, when I lock my keys in the car, I will fiddle with a coat hanger long after hypothermia has set in. Calling AAA is not an option. I will win, even if it may mean destroying the door or window in the process.
Because I’m a man, when the car isn’t running very well, I will pop the hood and stare at the engine as if I know what I’m looking at. If another man shows up, one of us will say to the other, "I used to be able to fix these things, but now with all these computers and everything, I wouldn’t even know where to start." We will then drink a couple of beverages and curse at the machine as a form of holy communion.
Because I’m a man, when I catch a cold, I need someone to bring me soup and take care of me while I lie in bed and moan. You’re a woman.
You never get as sick as I do, so for you, this should be no problem.
Because I’m a man, I can be relied upon to purchase basic groceries at the store, like milk or bread. I cannot be expected to find exotic items like "paprika" or "tofu." For all I know, these are the same thing.
Because I’m a man, when one of our appliances stops working, I will insist on taking it apart, despite evidence that this will just cost me twice as much once the repair person gets here and has to put it back together.
Because I’m a man, I must hold the television remote control in my hand while I watch TV. If the thing has been misplaced, I may miss a whole show looking for it . . . though one time I was able to survive by holding a calculator (applies to engineers mainly).
Because I’m a man, there is no need to ask me what I’m thinking about. The true answer is always either sex, cars, sex, sports or sex, or sex. I have to make up something else when you ask, so don’t ask.
Because I’m a man, I do not want to visit your mother, or have your mother come visit us, or talk to her when she calls, or think about her any more than I have to. Whatever you got her for Mother’s Day is okay; I don’t need to see it. And don’t forget to pick up something for my mother, too.
Because I’m a man, you don’t have to ask me if I liked the movie.
Chances are, if you’re crying at the end of it, I didn’t. And if you are feeling amorous afterward . . . then I will certainly at least remember the name and recommend it to others.
Because I’m a man, I think what you’re wearing is fine. I thought what you were wearing five minutes ago was fine, too. Either pair of shoes is fine. With the belt or without it, looks fine. Your hair is fine. You look fine. Can we just go now?
Because I’m a man, and this is, after all, the year 2006, I will share equally in the housework. You just do the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning, the vacuuming and the dishes, and I’ll do the rest . . . like wandering around in the garden
with a beer, wondering what to do.
Two South Texas farmers, Jim and Bob, are sitting at their favorite bar, drinking beer. Jim turns to Bob and says, "You know, I’m tired of going through life without an education. Tomorrow I think I’ll go to the Community College and sign up for some classes."
Bob thinks it’s a good idea, and the two leave. The next day, Jim goes down to the college and meets the dean of admissions, who signs him up for the four basic classes: math, English, history and logic.
"Logic?" Jim says. "What’s that?"
The dean says, "I’ll show you! Do you own a weed eater?"
"Then logically because you own a weed eater, I think that you would have a yard."
"That’s true, I do have a yard."
"I’m not done," the dean says. "Because you have a yard, I think logically that you would have a house."
"Yes, I do have a house."
"And because you have a house, I think that you might logically have a family."
"I have a family."
"I’m not done yet. Because you have a family, then logically you must have a wife."
"Yes, I do have a wife."
"And because you have a wife, then logically you must be a heterosexual."
"I am a heterosexual. That’s amazing, you were able to find out all of that because I have a weed eater."
Excited to take the class now, Jim shakes the dean’s hand and leaves to go meet Bob at the bar.
He tells Bob about his classes, how he is signed up for math, English, history, and logic.
"Logic?" Bob says, "What’s that?"
Jim says, "I’ll show you. Do you have a weed eater?"
"Then you’re gay."