Thank God I’m A Tripod – Pt II

Thought I’d get off the political bend for a bit…

Sorry for the country music again, Mrs. C., but it was just too perfect! 🙂

Now, on to more reasons why I’m glad I’m a guy (and remember – the intent here is to be funny)…

1) More pay for the same job, with the same training, the same qualifications, and the same experience – no, it’s not right, and it’s needs to change, like, YESTERDAY! But, at the moment it works in my favor, so it makes me glad I’m a man and not a woman.

2) The world is my throne – I can stand up to pee, so I can go anywhere I want to. Middle of the woods? Sure. Side of the road? Why not? Incredibly disgusting gas station restroom? Hey, I don’t have to sit on that toilet seat. I can write my name in the snow (I’m pretty sure I don’t ever want to see a woman do that). I can take part in and potentially win a peeing for distance contest (I KNOW I don’t ever want to see a woman do that! 🙂 ) I can pretend I’m Red Adair as I’m shaking the ol’ weasel.

Downside? It sucks when you have to pee when you have a hard-on. If you’re in a place where it doesn’t matter where the pee goes, that’s one thing – just let ‘er rip. But if you’re in the bathroom at home or in a public restroom and it has to go in the toilet or urinal, trying to stand at just the right angle or forcing Mr. Happy down is a real bitch.

3) Medical / biological stuff – I’ll never have to worry about getting pregnant, being pregnant, or giving birth either vaginally or via C-section. I’ll never have to bleed for a week out of every month and turn into a raging psychopath during that period (pun intended). I’ll never have to get my boobs mashed on a regular basis. I’ll never have to go to see my ob-gyn and have my legs spread wide open in a set of stirrups and have ice-cold metallic objects stuffed into places I’d really rather not.

Downside? I’ll never be able to use my monthly visits from Aunt Flow as a legal defense if I’m ever accused of murder. Also, now that I’ll be turning 40 in July, I will have to deal with somebody rooting around in my ass on a regular basis to perform the ol’ “hunt for red October.”

4) Not feeling self-conscious when eating certain foods – I’ll never have to worry about some guy staring at me lustfully if I decide to eat a popsicle, ice cream cone, or banana in public.

Unless I’m in San Francisco or P-town, of course. 🙂

And, yes, ladies – that is what we’re thinking when we see you doing that.

5) Being stared at in general – I understand that having this happen to you makes you instinctively uncomfortable, ladies, I really do. And I understand that far more often than not we guys are pretty offensive when we stare at you. We don’t bother to be subtle or covert about it. Our eyes bug out, our jaws drop, we may even make some completely assholish comments or gestures, often in a loud, obnoxious, attention-drawing way.

I wish we weren’t like that – ever, believe me. I’m not like that, not even at a strip club, so I wrongfully assume that most of my gender is like me.

Well, I got a beatdown from MST that disabused from that assumption toot-sweet!

However, when you catch a guy being a neanderthal jerk (thanx, MST 🙂 ), try to consider this: it is, in it’s own barbaric way, a compliment. It means the guy finds you attractive. The guy himself who finds you attractive may be a prehistoric lout with the intellect of the average garden slug, but he is being complimentary.

Also, try to consider what you’re wearing at the time. No, I don’t think you’re “asking for it.” No woman is ever “asking for it,” and anybody – male or female – who ever thinks she is “asking for it” derserves to be kneecapped. But, if you don’t want to have somebody stare at your breasts, how about not wearing the shirt with the eye-drawing image or saying on it?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How about buttoning up a button or two?

 If you don’t want people checking out your ass, how wearing a skirt or dress an inch or two longer?

 How about not wearing the pants that look like you spray-painted them on?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We’re men, we’re pigs, our willpower is pretty low when it comes to this kind of stuff, and chances are when you wear clothes like that, we’re not going to be able to suppress the instinct. Some of us will be better at controlling our reaction, but I’m willing to bet the majority of us are going to look.

Just a thought. 

6) I can trust a mechanic – I’m willing to bet that, now that we’re in the 21st century and a little more cognizant of being politically correct (except me, of course 🙂 ), a lot more mechanics don’t automatically try to screw women when charging them to fix their cars than they used to. However, I’m willing to bet it’s still a widespread pratice. I’m willing to bet plumbers, electricians, carpenters, and contractors do it, too. I’m comforted by the fact that it’s less likely to happen to me just because I have facial hair, because, to be honest, Mrs. Chili’s youngest daughter knows infinitely more about cars or home repair right now than I ever will!

7) The promiscuity double-standard – now that I’m married, of course, this no longer applies, but it made life easier when I was young(er), dumb(er), and full(er) of cum that I could go out and screw anything with two legs and a heartbeat and my friends would admire me for it. If a woman does that, she’s a slut, a tramp, a whore. If a guy does it, he’s a “man”, a stud, somebody to look up to and hang out with in hopes of picking up his leftovers.

Go figure.

8 ) I can go to a public bathroom by myself – Can somebody please explain to me why women have to go to the ladies room at least in pairs, preferably in a pack? Jesus, we didn’t send this many men into the jungle on patrol in Vietnam!

9) Gas – it’s so stress-reducing to be able to belch or fart in almost (almost!) any situation and have it laughed off as just being a guy. There is virtually no situation where it’s funny (as opposed to horrifying) when a woman burps or lets one rip. Sorry ladies, but whether you meant to do it, it slipped, or it got forced out when you sneezed or coughed, you burping or farting is just plain scary. We know you do it (you have to, you’re human), but we really don’t want to hear it.

Queefing, though – now that’s funny! Mystifying, though, the first time it happens to a guy. We’re going at it, the queef slips out, and we’re left thinking to ourselves, ‘Did she just fart?’ You don’t really want to, but your instinct is to take a whiff, and of course you don’t smell anything, so now you’re really confused. You don’t say anything, of course, because you don’t want to interrupt the sex, but when the sex is over…

And why is it exactly that the queefing only seems to happen in the doggy-style position? Any theories? Ladies?

10) Body image – ever notice that a lot of guys who are considered sexy aren’t necessarily in the best of shape and/or are kinda old? Sure the ladies go ga-ga over Brad Pitt or Orlando Bloom or Tom Cruise or Justin Timberlake or name-your-buff-hottie. However, I’ve also seen women take a liking to Sean Connery. Patrick Stewart. Harrison Ford. Alan Rickman. Lawrence Fishburne. Nice to know that if the hair starts turning grey and/or falling out you might still be sexy, huh, guys? Nice to know that even if you pack on a few extra pounds the ladies might still wanna break off a little of your sumthin’-sumthin’?

Now, how many men in the room find, oh, let’s say Helen Mirren hot? No? Um, Kathy Bates? No, hmm… oh, I know! Any of the women from Calendar Girls? No? Huh!

You know why not? Because men have nowhere near the pressure in today’s society to maintain a certain body image like women do. Sure, there are a couple of magazines out there like “Playgirl” or “Men’s Health” that always have buff dudes on and in between the covers, but it’s nothing like what women have to deal with. For every “Playgirl” there’s “Playboy,” “Penthouse,” Hustler,” Club,” High Society,” etc., etc., etc… Are there even any women’s versions of “Maxim,” “FHM,” and those types of men’s mags? Jesus, even the publications that are supposed to be helping women like “Cosmopolitan” and others of its ilk still bombard women with a certain body type. When was the last time you saw a cover of “Cosmo” that didn’t have some babe with her boobs hanging out?

Have I made my point?

It’s SO much easier being a guy.