Don't Even Say It

It might be foolish to heap a little scorn on Microsoft, but foolishness calls for foolishness, so what the hell? On the MSN homepage today was a link to their "Lifestyle" page which contained a list of things women should "never, ever say to a guy." In all fairness to Bill Gates, the "article" came with a Glamour magazine logo and the subheading, "we asked men to spill the details on the phrases guys dread." My suspicions are that the whole thing was concocted by some 20-year-old Glamour intern, reflecting her idea of what verbiage would send a guy into a tizzy; if not, if real (sic) men were indeed consulted, it must have been done at a take-out quiche joint--real men don't tizzy.

Read the entire list here, but among the supposed verbal atom bombs the piece warns women against deploying on men are such inanities as "Can you TiVo the game? I need to watch the finale of The Bachelor live." If a guy "dreads" this phrase, he's either as soulless as she or doesn't know an open invitation to spend the evening at a sports bar when it hits him over the head. How about, "Maybe you should pick up some Rogaine"? Guys know the condition of their pates, trust me. If he's been thinking about Rogaine, he'll thank you for the confirmation. If he's not, he'll just laugh, thinking it funny that someone else gives more of a damn about his hair than he does. But be warned: men know the names of some image-enhancing products too, and if he's in a feisty mood, he might consider the door open to make comments along the lines of, "Okay, let's go to Walgreens and while we're at it we can pick up some _______ or ________ for you." Let's see who's full of dread now. One of the "dreaded" phrases that really cracks me up is accompanied by this photo:

"I really wish you'd shave your back." Seems to me the MSN art department could find a picture of a man who just might have a whisker or two of visible body hair to illustrate this damning quip. But really, even if a man has abundant back hair, there are about five million phrases he dreads more than this one. "Fine, I can't see it or reach it, so if it really bothers you, lather me up and go to it. It's no skin off my back, I hope."

Look, let's get real here. Men are narcissistic ego-maniacs, but we're not wimps. It takes a little more than the type of petty digs the article lists to raise our hackles. You want to get a man ticked? Tell him his lawn needs mowing. Guys have a sensitive internal clock that tells them the exact time to cut the grass. Don't mess with it. "Are you going to shower today?" Well, "today" might be a little too constricting, but, yes, I do intend to shower again in the future. "What are you thinking?" Well, whatever it was, it's now been replaced by thinking how in the hell I'm going to answer that question. "Do you have to spit?" Duh (though beware, if you phrase the question, "Do you have to spit like that?" the man may not pick up on the tone of admonition and instead hear it as a more inquisitive statement: "Well, no, I can also spit like this, and like this, and ..."). But the king of them all, no doubt, is this one: "Would it bug you if I said ..." Men are either bugged or not; they don't think about it, which really bugs them. Which is why MSN/Glamour has really bugged me today.  

Men Are Better Than Women (At A Few Things, I'm Pretty Sure)

Today I was asked about a new book I had never heard of before, Man Down. The customer, a woman, said it was about how women are better at a lot of things than men. My response: "It's only one volume?" Turns out the book has quite a sub-title: Man Down: Proof Beyond a Reasonable Doubt That Women Are Better Cops, Drivers, Gamblers, Spies, World Leaders, Beer Tasters, Hedge Fund Managers, and Just About Everything Else (check it out here). Turns out too that the book was written by a man, Dan Abrams, which just goes to show you. What, I don't know, but it should show you something. Now I could take some potshots at that sub-title (beer's for drinking, not tasting; just who wants to identify him or herself as either a world leader or a hedge fund manager these days?; drivers?! Mr. Abrams has never driven the streets I drive!) and I suppose I could read the book and review it here (though I'm sure a woman blogger could do a better job), but I've reached that stage in life (post first grade) where I'm really only interested in things I don't already know. Of course women are better at most things; I've been saying it for years, truly.

But.

"Just about everything else"; "most things"; not everything. There are definitely a few skill sets left out there that men excel at and at which they totally out-perform women. So while Mr. Abrams is out there doing the media thing and singing the praises of women, I think it's only fair that a little equal time is given over to the prowess of men right here right now.

Scratching. May seem trivial to you, but just wait a few minutes until you get a really bad itch. Hands down, men scratch--in a utilitarian, not pugilistic sense--way better than women. Growing hair. Yes, as far as I know there's no such thing as female pattern baldness, but knuckles, ears, noses, backs--men can grow some serious hair. I mean, compared to taking someone else's money, lifting a wet finger to the times, and taking an educated guess, i.e. hedge fund managing, growing a nice bushy patch between one's shoulder blades is godlike.

Spitting. That's a given, isn't it? No argument there, right? In keeping with this blog's theme, I'll go a step further and claim that men are much better than women at chewing gum, too. Men work the gum, gnawing on a wad of it; women frenetically chimp chomp a tiny square piece at the back of their mouths and snap it. In terms of chewing gum, men are like DaVinci, women are like etch-a-sketchers. And while we're in the vicinity of the mouth, burping. Spend ten minutes around five 13-year-old boys, and if you come out of it still sane, you'll grant the less fair gender the burping crown, no question.

Artisans of the remote control. I cry tears of pride and wonder when I watch one of my nephews work a TV remote. A woman with a remote in her hand only gives me a nic fit.

Grilling/barbequeing. Yeah, you're going to argue that one?

Getting ready. For anything. Except maybe a fantasy football/baseball draft, but since I despise fantasy sports, that doesn't count.

Killing creepy crawling things. I'm sure she exists, and I'm sure she's good, but you never think of the Orkin Woman, do you?

Carrying on a half-hour conversation using less than a hundred words. Physically impossible for women, nirvana for two good male friends.

Laughing at one's self (just a hunch).

Prelude to 110 or 220/Women of the World--Jim O'Rourke by spitoutyourgumblog