Why We Suck_ A Feel Good Guide to Staying Fat, Loud, Lazy and Stupid - Denis Leary [78]
BEEF
CHICKEN
FISH
SPAGHETTI
BOOZECAKE
PIE
That's it. Make them all the same price and you have a done deal-guys will flock there in record numbers.
I bring all of this up to let women all over the world know-once and for all-we don't really care about Amber towels and Auburn washcloths and Claret curtains and Salsified Sea Bass and Crystallized Cocoa Flake Splashed With A Dandelion Brandy Sauce. We'll shower up and rinse our hands clean and sit down and eat the stuff but for one reason and one reason only-we wanna have sex with you. That's it.
That's why I'm extending the argument put forward in the previous chapter, guys-don't go off the deep end about the linen and the menu additions like I just did-sit back and let it all go.
So you have to let some ponce in a ponytail point out food that simply by the length of its title is gonna have a price tag far beyond its actual nutritional value-so what?
So instead of grabbing a red towel and raking it across your ass and your ballsack-you gently dab at your dabbables and remark: "Honey-this towel is so big and fluffy and just so-is it Magenta? It is? It's such a perfect balance with the smaller towels-the hand ones? Lemme guess-are those Puce or Terra Cotta? Oh-Vermillion. I love it!"
That and a slow, gentle slide of your hand-palm down-across the surface of the new Crimson sheets and a quick remark about how much you love the Russet pillowcases will do wonders down unders.
Nowadays, wife wants a cup of tea? Do I grunt and grumble? Nope. I put on my reading glasses and I shuffle down to the kitchen, put on the hot water, open The Tea Drawer and start perusing the titles:
Smooth Move, hon?
Women's Liberty? No? Okay.
Green Ginger it is.
She's got a selection of teas the guys who signed the Declaration of Independence wouldn't have TIME to throw into Boston Harbor:
Azo Passion Tea
Every Day Detox Tea
Yoga Bedtime Mulling Spice
Yoga Thai Delight
Cinnamon Ease
Yoga Rejuvenatta
Now-they all have their apparent purposes, even though how and when she may need them remains a mystery to me. Does she down a cup of Azo Passion in order to get in the mood? When she needs to loll about on the front porch and ponder the world's problems, does she savor some thoughtful sips of Mulling Spice? Do three and a half ounces of Women's Liberty really set her free? I dunno. But the last couple of boxes I dug out of that drawer are enough to bring any man pause:
Yoga Black Chai and Licorice Root.
This is when teatime can turn into a potential witch's brew-are these the two bags she drops into a boiling mug before telling me to go fuck myself? Is she holding them in reserve in case she one day decides to put me out of her misery? I dunno and I ain't asking.
I just make her the cup of Green Ginger and wonder what kinda teas they make for men.
Oh yeah. I remember:
Lipton.
End of list.
CHAPTER 16 - This is Your Brain on Semen
I think we've done a good job in the last couple chapters with delineating some of the differences between men and women-now it's time for this good doctor to put the final nails into what has become a politically correct coffin in this country:
We don't talk as much as you do.
We just don't.
Keep in mind this is coming from a man who is not only a doctor but-as you must know by now if you've been reading along-a very verbal guy.
I obviously do not have a problem expressing myself.
But you can take all the halfhearted and quarter-assed medical studies done around the world that say men speak just as many words a day as women do and put them in a massive blender and make a giant bullshit shake-I'm here to tell you they are not true.
Go to the gym and watch and listen-guys have headphones on as they run and squat and grimace and grunt-staring up at the TV in between sets.
The women? Paired off on adjacent treadmills or elliptical trainers-yak yakkety yick yak yic, yic yickety,