Friday, July 20, 2012


As a long-time student of the fairer sex – I’m happy to say I’m generally pleased with them; so much so; that I got married and now have one of my very own - forever.  The alternative appeared to be gayness or singleness and I wasn’t up for either.

Single was fun, but it got old. Plus, everybody else was getting married and, at some point, you run the risk of being weird single instead of cool single. If you don't want to risk that: get married! But you better get it right or you’ll deeply regret not holding out for weird single.

My gay friends seem to have a lot of fun, but a huge downside of gayness, in my opinion; is potentially having to marry a man. Other than that and a few other key specifics - having your buddy around all the time could be pretty fun. At least: when you disagree you can slug it out.

Nobody calls DFCS if a man shows up at work with a black eye – in fact, you just got popular. You’re a scrapper. Plus, in a man fight - whoever cries first loses (which is in keeping with the natural order).  Also – no kids! Or at least – adoptive kids only. And, from what I understand, you can take adopted kids back. I like the idea of being able to turn them back in until I get one that doesn’t act like me

Not so with women. Get in a fight with your wife and she cries first?  You lose. You cry at all?  You lose.  Nobody cries but she wanted to? You lose. Most of the time – winning costs you way more than you ever expected and, ultimately, you lose more, worse, and longer.

Now that I think about it – I’ve never actually won a fight with Tylertoes. I’ve just lost horribly in a million different subversive, sneaky ways.

Remember that disagreement we had about what dark mysterious magic befalls the other half of all my socks? Now they come back clean, together, but inside out – which is much, much worse. No way to prove anything, but I know they didn’t go in the dryer that way. Its not worth fighting about now, but guess who lost? Me and my socks.

All I wanted was my soup to get magically hotter without me having to get up.  Guess what shows up in my mouth? Molten lava.

Beg for something tasty to eat instead of lettuce wraps? Undercooked pork = salmonella.

Sometime soon I’m going to focus on figuring out why women all loathe each other, but lately I’ve just been studying the “I don’t know what my Dad does” phenomena.  Ask a young-ish girl what her dad does? 90% of the time – she has no idea. He leaves every morning, comes back from somewhere and somebody pays him. It’s like he doesn’t exist for about 10hrs a day then he pops back up out of the ground like a man-shaped toadstool put here on earth to change your oil.

I heard my sister one day as a child tell somebody my Dad was in real estate. That is not true. He’s not only NOT in real-estate – he’s NEVER been in real estate.  I confronted her about it (gingerly).

Me: You know Dad's not in real estate, right?
Margaret: Well, he goes to an awful lot of meetings.
Somehow I lost that argument.

I’m not suggesting your average 6-18yr old girl isn’t smart enough to figure it out – I’m just pointing out that, for some reason, they rate it not important enough to investigate.

My research suggests this phenomenon doesn’t stop with Dad. It carries right on down the line. Mom spent 6 years laboring under the belief that I was a tax accountant and I "did people's taxes". I told her at least bi-annually that wasn't true and offered up a clear example of my actual employment. Every year - tax season would roll around and one of her friends would call me about her taxes. I finally just started doing them which, technically, made me a tax accountant! I'm glad she didn't pluck "Lion Tamer" out of thin air.

It gets worse. I offer this to you as evidence:

Tyler:  Whatcha’ doin’?
Me:  I was just talking to Chris in regards to some business. You know. Work stuff. Stocks and bonds and things. No big deal.
Tyler:  Ah. When my girlfriends ask what you do, I tell them that you meet with men...and have meetings...with those men. They nod in understanding and say "that's what my Dad does".  No further explanation needed.
Me:  Ah. Interesting. Tell me: what did your Dad do for work before he retired?
Tyler: He had some kind of business. Then he didn't. I think he sold it. To somebody.
Me:  How about before that?
Tyler: Real Estate.

It always comes back to real estate.