Tuesday, August 01, 2006

‘Hon, does my butt look big in these jeans?’

‘Hon, does my butt look big in these jeans?’

I was ambushed. Nowhere to hide, too late to run.

On a normal day, the mere thought of loitering from store to store for hours trying to look interested is scary enough, but doing that when a sale is on is fucking insane! Ever seen those poor saps with faceless expressions outside a women’s store while their partners are probably enjoying their 2nd hour in the same shop trying to decide whether to buy a white tee or a black one?

I reckon the judicial system should incorporate shopping with a woman as a community service sentence. In most cases, the man is tortured mentally, physically and financially. I say physically because when it comes to shopping, you can never out-walk a woman even if they’re wearing heels. They should really document this phenomenon in Ripley’s Believe It or Not.

When I was out there, joining the chorus line of brain dead men wishing that they could somehow conjure an out-of-body experience and be at a beach or a pub somewhere, I almost felt compelled to ask them, ‘So, what are you in for?’ but I think they’re probably so spaced out that if I kicked them in the nuts, it’ll take them 30 minutes to register the pain and another hour to come up with a spontaneous reaction.

The things we do for love.

I got restless and couldn’t wait any longer so I made my way through the war zone to find the woman that put me in this inhumane and torturous situation. When I found her in front of a mirror jostling for position like Shaq, she dropped that bomb of a question on me. I felt as if, the whole store suddenly fell silent and all eyes were on me for a response. Basically, balls shrinking stuff!

Why can’t women understand that men are simple creatures? If any of my male friends or colleagues were to ask me if they looked fat while grabbing a fist full of flab around their stomach, I’d agree in a heartbeat and mocking them for at least a month would be a prerequisite if we were to stay friends. However, with women, it’s different. When they ask a man for an opinion on their physical appearance, they basically want you to lie your ass off and be condemned to hell for all eternity.

It’s almost as if the bigger the lie, the more believable it is to them. Ever seen those grannies in their 60s walking around a shopping centre with permed red hair, make- up that could provide a serious smokescreen if they were slapped and wardrobe that made you think Gianni Versace’s alive and designing again? Heck! They’re probably wearing a g-string underneath all that. (FUCK! I visualized!). Anyway, when a bunch of these beasts have a gathering, you could be forgiven for getting your kids’ hopes up by telling them Cirque du Soleil is in town. Why do you think they dress this way? It’s all their husbands’ fault. Instead of saying, ‘For fuck’s sake, you look like Mimi from The Drew Carey Show!’ when they had a chance, they chose to lie. Each lie compounds itself to make a woman more bold with each appearance. Those beasts don't just happen overnight you know? It takes years of encouragement and compliments from men to concoct such a potent blend of courage and delusion.

You think we should be more sensitive to their feelings? HELLO?!! If women can pour hot wax on their pubes and fucking yank them out by the roots, I’d say they’re tougher and more sadistic than us don’t you think? Besides, having a woman walk out like that should be a crime. They freak the kids into inducing nightmares, put mental images into guys that cause them to turn gay, or never marrying or having a relationship, therefore reducing the birth rate and population of the country.

So, tell them what you really think.* Do it for your country!

‘No, it looks great. Did you lose weight?’, I responded.

What? You think I have a death wish or something? I was surrounded by a bunch of crazy women high on massive discounts on clothes and had no cyanide pill to make the pain easier to bear. What's a guy suppose to do?

*Due to the high risk of not having your reproductive organ ever functioning again, it is ideal that you have at least 2 litres of the little torpedos stored in a sperm bank before doing this.

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