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Thoughts from the Throne 7/18/06
These are my observations of the female species. I’m not complaining
just pointing out a few subtle nuances and explaining the male
perspective.
1) Female unhappy that male never notices brand new (insert
brand name) heels, sandals, etc.
The male should never notice shoes! As I’ve told Libby over and
over, if I notice your shoes then I’ve missed everything else.
Actually the male does notice a female’s new shoes when she
complains how excruciating painful they are while we’re at the walk
along way event. The female explains that she knew they were
excruciatingly uncomfortable but they’re really, really cute and they
were on sale. While the 3-inch, knee-high (insert brand name) hooker
boot gives the male dirty thoughts, they have no place at football
games and his feet feel great in running shoes!
2) Female spends hundreds (probably low ball estimate) on
manicures each year and complains that male never notices
French (have they EVER done anything masculine) manicure or
that had to have periwinkle (in man colors, we call that purply)
nail polish.
The male is extremely similar to a bear. Most of the male day is spent
rubbing against inanimate objects hoping to relieve an itch. We may
not notice that a manicure has taken place or the color scheme but we
are thrilled by a little back scratchin’! That’s when the male will
observe the perfect length and shape of fresh manicure.
3) Female doesn’t understand male obsession with sports and
ESPN, instead forces male to watch re-runs of Sex and the City
on TBS.
The male love of sports stems from evolution. We’ve sailed the
oceans, hunted the buffalo, settled the west and now we slave away,
underpaid and overworked, while waiting to be outsourced to Indians
(dot not feather) or monkees, whichever is cheaper. Watching sports
and feeling that competitive connection to a person or team is the
only thing keeping us from going postal.
Sex and the City used to be a compromise show for the male and
female when it was on HBO. Now it’s on cable. No Kim Catrall nude
scenes, just poorly edited chick chat!
Alright I gotta go. I have to observe female hunting. In other words
everything in the store is on sale, and the female demands I attend.
After all, she needs a mobile clothing rack to hold the equivalent of
Costa Rica’s Gross National product in clothing.
If you have any observations email them to nickanddrew@hotmail.com.
-30-
These are my observations of the female species. I’m not complaining
just pointing out a few subtle nuances and explaining the male
perspective.
1) Female unhappy that male never notices brand new (insert
brand name) heels, sandals, etc.
The male should never notice shoes! As I’ve told Libby over and
over, if I notice your shoes then I’ve missed everything else.
Actually the male does notice a female’s new shoes when she
complains how excruciating painful they are while we’re at the walk
along way event. The female explains that she knew they were
excruciatingly uncomfortable but they’re really, really cute and they
were on sale. While the 3-inch, knee-high (insert brand name) hooker
boot gives the male dirty thoughts, they have no place at football
games and his feet feel great in running shoes!
2) Female spends hundreds (probably low ball estimate) on
manicures each year and complains that male never notices
French (have they EVER done anything masculine) manicure or
that had to have periwinkle (in man colors, we call that purply)
nail polish.
The male is extremely similar to a bear. Most of the male day is spent
rubbing against inanimate objects hoping to relieve an itch. We may
not notice that a manicure has taken place or the color scheme but we
are thrilled by a little back scratchin’! That’s when the male will
observe the perfect length and shape of fresh manicure.
3) Female doesn’t understand male obsession with sports and
ESPN, instead forces male to watch re-runs of Sex and the City
on TBS.
The male love of sports stems from evolution. We’ve sailed the
oceans, hunted the buffalo, settled the west and now we slave away,
underpaid and overworked, while waiting to be outsourced to Indians
(dot not feather) or monkees, whichever is cheaper. Watching sports
and feeling that competitive connection to a person or team is the
only thing keeping us from going postal.
Sex and the City used to be a compromise show for the male and
female when it was on HBO. Now it’s on cable. No Kim Catrall nude
scenes, just poorly edited chick chat!
Alright I gotta go. I have to observe female hunting. In other words
everything in the store is on sale, and the female demands I attend.
After all, she needs a mobile clothing rack to hold the equivalent of
Costa Rica’s Gross National product in clothing.
If you have any observations email them to nickanddrew@hotmail.com.
-30-
Thoughts from the Throne 8/4
You can always tell when a man has invented something. Today a co-
worker told me he had to holster his Blackberry. Obviously it was
invented by a man…it sounds manly. For example do you use a
groover in the yard, no you use a RAKE, obviously invented by a man.
Garden implements are a great place to start. Almost everything used
in the yard is the result of man-naming. There’s the shovel, rake, leaf
blower, weed wacker, mower and who can forget the HOE! The only
object used in the yard not named by a man is fertilizer, which reminds
a woman of our exclusive ability to give life.
Check out a construction site and you’ll find our influence there as
well. The hammer, screwdriver, saw and caulk are there. How do you
put things together? You use a nail and a screw!
A woman’s touch is found on objects men don’t necessarily care
about. Think about paint or colors in general. Ask a man what color
to paint a wall and he’ll say white, blue or green. Ask a woman and you’
ll get cream, periwinkle or salmon. This applies to clothing as well.
Man sports include football, baseball and hockey. Women play volley
ball (let’s just volley the ball back and forth for awhile, doesn’t it
sound like fun). A man would have named it hitball or spikeball.
Women have gymnastics! Gym + fantastic = gymnastics.
Women wear bathing suits or bikinis. Men wear swim trunks! Women
have blouses and men wear shirts. The list is endless.
I’ve gotta run. I’m going to the firing range to cock the hammer and
shoot my gun!
-30-
You can always tell when a man has invented something. Today a co-
worker told me he had to holster his Blackberry. Obviously it was
invented by a man…it sounds manly. For example do you use a
groover in the yard, no you use a RAKE, obviously invented by a man.
Garden implements are a great place to start. Almost everything used
in the yard is the result of man-naming. There’s the shovel, rake, leaf
blower, weed wacker, mower and who can forget the HOE! The only
object used in the yard not named by a man is fertilizer, which reminds
a woman of our exclusive ability to give life.
Check out a construction site and you’ll find our influence there as
well. The hammer, screwdriver, saw and caulk are there. How do you
put things together? You use a nail and a screw!
A woman’s touch is found on objects men don’t necessarily care
about. Think about paint or colors in general. Ask a man what color
to paint a wall and he’ll say white, blue or green. Ask a woman and you’
ll get cream, periwinkle or salmon. This applies to clothing as well.
Man sports include football, baseball and hockey. Women play volley
ball (let’s just volley the ball back and forth for awhile, doesn’t it
sound like fun). A man would have named it hitball or spikeball.
Women have gymnastics! Gym + fantastic = gymnastics.
Women wear bathing suits or bikinis. Men wear swim trunks! Women
have blouses and men wear shirts. The list is endless.
I’ve gotta run. I’m going to the firing range to cock the hammer and
shoot my gun!
-30-
Thoughts from the Throne 4/2/07
Every Easter I'm reminded of why I hate the holiday. I know there is
some kind of bibilical reasoning behind the day but I'm not sure how
chocolate and dyed eggs play into God's master plan. As a child this
was my freak the fuck out holiday!
Mind you I watched all of the Nightmare on Elm Streets, Friday the
13th's, Hellraisers, etc and never flinched as a child but the sight of
this hell spawn every Easter would send me into pee myself terror, I
would freak the fuck out and the holiday would be ruined. I am
referring to the Easter Bunny!
First, there is the life size bunny issue. I had been taught that they
were tiny cuddly little creatures and now there is a 6 foot overweight
bunny that smells like Wild Turkey standing in my yard.
Second, one of the first rules of childhood is the "don't take candy
from strangers" speech that is beaten into your head. Now not only
am I supposed to take candy from strangers, I'm also given a device
(the Easter basket) as a means for gathering as much as possible.
Third, that gay ass basket. Now there are a million different kinds of
baskets. I'm sure the Spider-Man basket with the web shooter that
picks up eggs is great, but back in the day Mom is adding lace and
fringe to a pastel-colored cheap wicker basket, not quite a portrait of
manhood.
Back to the damn Bunny! If he was really so fucking wonderful why
does he hide the eggs? I'm thinking he doesn't want me to have them
or if he gave a shit about me he would just leave the eggs at the front
door, or on the kitchen table.
Finally, I knew at an early age that bunnies don't lay eggs. Not only
that but the Easter Bunny is supposed to be male. So how the hell
does this bunny get the eggs? Either this transsexual mammal is
stealing them from the chicken coup or is isn't a real bunny in the first
place. I just don't trust an animal that lies about it's reproductive
capabilities!
I hope you now understand why I freak the fuck out whenever that
filthy animal's holiday comes up. Which mythical animal/creature/deity
freaks you out. Email me at nickanddrew@hotmail.com.
-30-
Every Easter I'm reminded of why I hate the holiday. I know there is
some kind of bibilical reasoning behind the day but I'm not sure how
chocolate and dyed eggs play into God's master plan. As a child this
was my freak the fuck out holiday!
Mind you I watched all of the Nightmare on Elm Streets, Friday the
13th's, Hellraisers, etc and never flinched as a child but the sight of
this hell spawn every Easter would send me into pee myself terror, I
would freak the fuck out and the holiday would be ruined. I am
referring to the Easter Bunny!
First, there is the life size bunny issue. I had been taught that they
were tiny cuddly little creatures and now there is a 6 foot overweight
bunny that smells like Wild Turkey standing in my yard.
Second, one of the first rules of childhood is the "don't take candy
from strangers" speech that is beaten into your head. Now not only
am I supposed to take candy from strangers, I'm also given a device
(the Easter basket) as a means for gathering as much as possible.
Third, that gay ass basket. Now there are a million different kinds of
baskets. I'm sure the Spider-Man basket with the web shooter that
picks up eggs is great, but back in the day Mom is adding lace and
fringe to a pastel-colored cheap wicker basket, not quite a portrait of
manhood.
Back to the damn Bunny! If he was really so fucking wonderful why
does he hide the eggs? I'm thinking he doesn't want me to have them
or if he gave a shit about me he would just leave the eggs at the front
door, or on the kitchen table.
Finally, I knew at an early age that bunnies don't lay eggs. Not only
that but the Easter Bunny is supposed to be male. So how the hell
does this bunny get the eggs? Either this transsexual mammal is
stealing them from the chicken coup or is isn't a real bunny in the first
place. I just don't trust an animal that lies about it's reproductive
capabilities!
I hope you now understand why I freak the fuck out whenever that
filthy animal's holiday comes up. Which mythical animal/creature/deity
freaks you out. Email me at nickanddrew@hotmail.com.
-30-
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