The Gender War: The Women May Be Winning, But That's Cause They're Cheating

Sometimes I get the impression that some women are a little confusing. And by “sometimes” I mean “everyday.” And by “some women” I mean “all women.” And by “a little confusing” I mean “bat-shit crazy.”

Now before all of you women out there start freaking out and calling me a sexist pig, might I point out that if you have ever spent any time with me you should already know this and if you are especially offended by sexist stereo-types you should stop reading and go back to knitting. It’s definitely not that I don’t like women; it’s just that I, like every other honest man in the world will admit, understand women about as well as the British understand the concept of oral hygiene. And it’s not like this is a new problem. Men for centuries have tried to solve women, and most of them have died. To prove my point, we welcome back cavemen Wog and Oog.

Wog: Why are you sleeping outside the cave?

Oog: My wife is mad at me for something.

Wog: What could she be mad at you for? They haven’t invented sports so you could ignore her, there aren’t toilet seats to leave down, we don’t know how to make alcohol that we can abuse, and we don’t have computers so she can’t find your porn. So what did you do?

(Crickets chirping in background)

Oog: It must have something to do with emotions or communication or something.

Of course, since man still has yet to discover the concept of emotions, we still find ourselves facing the same problems as Wog and Oog. When you think about it, cavemen had it easy. If women got mad at them, the odds were good that they were just eaten by saber-toothed tigers or something and their pain ended right there. We men in modern times, however, are reduced to hoping that we get run over in our driveways by women drivers who are trying to back out of their garages while also drinking coffee, eating tofu, putting on makeup, texting on their phones, playing checkers and whatever else they are doing in their cars while they are ignoring road signs.

Now I’m not saying women are inferior to men (I’m simply implying it). There are many things that women do better than men, like yelling. What I’m saying is that women think… differently. Let’s face it, men are relatively uncomplicated. We feel three emotions: hunger, thirst, and sleepiness. If you don’t think those are true emotions that can tear at a man’s heart, than you are probably a woman. Also, when men want things, we tend to tell you we want things. We frankly are too busy to be inventing mind games to convey what we want. It always cracks me up when I see all these articles in women’s magazines that say things like “Figure out what your man wants” (if he’s not already eating it, you should just ask him) or “What turns men on” (answer: pretty much anything and everything). Don’t ask why I read women’s magazines; you're missing the point. If a man’s trail of thought were a road, it would be a one way straight lane.

A woman’s thought train on the other hand more closely resembles the US Interstate Highway system. It’s littered with all kinds of random exits, signs that don’t make sense, and dead animals. I’m going use my friends as an example. To protect their identities, I’m simply going to refer to them as “Baddie” and “Midget.” The other night, I was at their place when a friend of mine stole their phone. After several seconds of debating, they came up with a plan to get their phone back: they slapped me. Once again, let me make it clear that I had not stolen the phone. In fact, I had not moved from my spot on the couch the entire time. But somewhere in their twisted female minds, slapping me in the chest twenty times would somehow get the other guy to give them their phone.

Then last night, a group of us (and I have no interest in protecting their identities so I am just going to say it was Kyle, Chris, and Stephen) for some reason decided to let these same women put makeup on us. Now before you go and start reaching all sorts of conclusions and start buying me Zac Effron posters, let me establish that previous to this we had consumed a large amount of a certain beverage that tends to make you do stupid things like letting two giggling girls put make up on four grown men. Also, it was Chris’s idea. It was one of many bright ideas he had that night, some of which included stubbing his baby toe on a door, trying to fight a small parrot, and attaching a clothespin to his nipples (all of which is on video somewhere).

Now when we woke up this morning (or afternoon if you want to be picky), we began to realize the makeup was not necessarily coming off. Since we did not want to go out in public looking like tranny hookers/raccoons we began to panic and asked the girls how to remove the makeup. They then revealed that they had used waterproof makeup and suggested baby oil or makeup remover. Now as you could imagine, we didn’t exactly have those supplies with us. The only “supplies” we had in our apartment were beer and rum, which did not work by the way. I of course asked why they would need waterproof mascara and they answered “for when we go to water parks.” Because heaven forbid you go to a water park not looking like Marilyn Manson.

While I’m giving examples, I’m going to use my sister, who is a junior in high school. One day earlier this year, she decides to go to school in what appeared to me to be something Paris Hilton would wear to a club. I politely and tactfully informed her that the dress would never pass dress code and that she looked like a hooker. She explained that since she was going to wear a jacket over the dress, then nobody would see what she was wearing and she wouldn’t get written up for dress code. I then asked that since nobody was going to see what she was wearing, then WHY ARE YOU WEARING A DRESS THAT COSTS MORE THAN MY ENTIRE CLOSET TO STUDY ALGEBRA! At that point she resorted to trying to change the subject by swearing at me, which I find is a common theme with women talking to me.

Anyway, somebody eventually figured out how to land a man on the moon, so I’m sure one of these days some brave man will figure out women. Unfortunately, he will instantly be assassinated by said women, because keeping secrets is how they maintain power. Like secrets about how to remove waterproof mascara. If you have any ideas I’m listening. In the meantime, since my face is soaked in rum anyway I’m going to try to burn it off. It’s waterproof, but they never said anything about fireproof.