Man Haters
Now that I'm single I have once again joined the ranks of the man-haters, that venomous group of women who are ever ready to point out every short-coming of the male species. Every snide comment is related to the fact that, in reality, I just need to get laid. Oddly enough, those same male bashing comments came spewing out of my mouth when I was... well... active.
The truth of the matter is that I'm just a snide person. I make off-hand comments and observations about the human condition all of the time, regardless of my sexual activity. My point of view is that humans in general, male AND female, are prone to stupidity. I just love talking about it.
I even like to talk about my own stupidity. I mean, come on, I told the whole world about my attempts at self-electricution when I put my finger in the puddle of water surrounding a heating element in my waterbed! Yet nobody accused me of sexual frustration as I told this story of human stupidity, albeit my own stupidity. I frequently lambast women for their acts of stupidity. I actually have a possible book running through my mind that I would love to call STUPID GIRL. I am obsessed with dumb blonde jokes. They make me giggle every single time! That sure as hell doesn't mean I have any unsatisfied lesbian desires.
It means that I watch people and share with everyone else my amusement.
But the moment I broach the subject of man-stupidness, I become a man-hater. I can hear already the comments that it's the viciousness and the volume that makes me a man-hater. PLEASE! Men are just prone to more stupid crap than women.
Maybe I need to re-phrase that...
Okay, when I see female stupidity it is usually just sad and depressing. Women put themselves out there in vulnerable ways and become the victim. It's stupid and sad, but not so funny. Men, on the other hand, are going for the glory. They act brave and blindly plunge into feats that should be, and frequently are, deadly. Death isn't funny, really, it isn't, but these guys sure do a bang up job of catching our attention. And hey, isn't that what it's all about? Getting the girl to look? Granted, the guy can't go on a date with her, now that he's dead, but maybe, just maybe, she'll attend his funeral. He did, after all, die for her.
You're stupid, I laugh. But since I don't have a man at my side, or at least in my bed, I'm not allowed to poke fun at this other moron's stupidity. Sorry, that arrangement just doesn't work for me. But I don't hate men, really I don't! A very wise woman said "they taste just like chicken." I have to agree.
I can't guarantee a steady supply of sex-partners while trying to keep my dignity somewhat in tact. I can, however, guarantee that morons will cross my path every single day. It is from the moron population that I receive the greatest form of satisfaction: a reason to laugh.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Play To Win
If I were a poker player in the old west, I surely would have been shot.
I like to cheat.
I’m probably the most honest person you’ll ever meet, but I do love the joy of winning a game by any means possible. I don’t fudge on my taxes, don’t embellish my job resumé, nor lie about my weight on my driver’s license, yet sit me down for a game of Scrabble and you’ll be facing an uncontrollable cheat.
Last night I played Trivial Pursuit and guess which team won? Mine, of course. I could read the answers on the card as the question was being read. It was quite a feat to make it look like I came up with “Nathan Hale” all on my own, as if I knew what I was talking about. At least I knew who he was in American history, but there was not a chance in hell that I would have come up with that man’s name in response to the question with out the ability to read fine print across the table, upside-down. It is a skill. Likewise, I would never have come up with “West Virginia” as a state with streams adversely affected by coal mining if it were not for a quick glimpse of a long name starting with W. It looked longer than Wisconsin and I don’t recall Wyoming being a stream-laden state. I used power of deduction with that small clue. One of my teammates was much more blatant in her attempts. As the other team refilled their drinks while we were contemplating the answer, my teammate flipped the card over and just read the answer outright and then had me act like I was thinking it over and over and out of the blue came up with it. The boys looked so dismayed that the girls won. Poor things, they were trying to win on intelligence alone.
Why do I do it? I don’t know. I don’t take parlor games seriously. I think they are for fun and this just enhances it, at least for me. If somebody is a poor sport about it, well, I probably wouldn’t enjoy their company anyway. Just because I cheat doesn’t mean I always win, and actually that makes the whole situation even funnier. One night we were playing Pictionary. This game requires that one member of the team draw a picture to denote the word on the card for the other team members. Words are never allowed in the picture. You can guess that with my poor drawing skills I was writing the answer for my teammates. Sadly the other team was much quicker in their drawing and interpreting than my team was in reading and writing. We lost and lost big. But we had fun and isn’t that the point of playing a game?
Maybe if I were to play games for money, I would be more likely to abide by the rules. I certainly behave myself if I’m new to the group, but I will tell you I don’t have nearly as much fun.
So now you are warned. If you want to have a good time and can be a good sport, invite me to play a hand of cards or a round of board games. I assure you, I will find a way to cheat, even if it means slipping the vicious “Qu” tile to an opponent in Scrabble. It’s an addiction and I have no intentions of going through any 12 step reform. I would find a way to bastardize it down to 8 steps.
I like to cheat.
I’m probably the most honest person you’ll ever meet, but I do love the joy of winning a game by any means possible. I don’t fudge on my taxes, don’t embellish my job resumé, nor lie about my weight on my driver’s license, yet sit me down for a game of Scrabble and you’ll be facing an uncontrollable cheat.
Last night I played Trivial Pursuit and guess which team won? Mine, of course. I could read the answers on the card as the question was being read. It was quite a feat to make it look like I came up with “Nathan Hale” all on my own, as if I knew what I was talking about. At least I knew who he was in American history, but there was not a chance in hell that I would have come up with that man’s name in response to the question with out the ability to read fine print across the table, upside-down. It is a skill. Likewise, I would never have come up with “West Virginia” as a state with streams adversely affected by coal mining if it were not for a quick glimpse of a long name starting with W. It looked longer than Wisconsin and I don’t recall Wyoming being a stream-laden state. I used power of deduction with that small clue. One of my teammates was much more blatant in her attempts. As the other team refilled their drinks while we were contemplating the answer, my teammate flipped the card over and just read the answer outright and then had me act like I was thinking it over and over and out of the blue came up with it. The boys looked so dismayed that the girls won. Poor things, they were trying to win on intelligence alone.
Why do I do it? I don’t know. I don’t take parlor games seriously. I think they are for fun and this just enhances it, at least for me. If somebody is a poor sport about it, well, I probably wouldn’t enjoy their company anyway. Just because I cheat doesn’t mean I always win, and actually that makes the whole situation even funnier. One night we were playing Pictionary. This game requires that one member of the team draw a picture to denote the word on the card for the other team members. Words are never allowed in the picture. You can guess that with my poor drawing skills I was writing the answer for my teammates. Sadly the other team was much quicker in their drawing and interpreting than my team was in reading and writing. We lost and lost big. But we had fun and isn’t that the point of playing a game?
Maybe if I were to play games for money, I would be more likely to abide by the rules. I certainly behave myself if I’m new to the group, but I will tell you I don’t have nearly as much fun.
So now you are warned. If you want to have a good time and can be a good sport, invite me to play a hand of cards or a round of board games. I assure you, I will find a way to cheat, even if it means slipping the vicious “Qu” tile to an opponent in Scrabble. It’s an addiction and I have no intentions of going through any 12 step reform. I would find a way to bastardize it down to 8 steps.
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