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Anger Diary #557: I Don't Know Anything (About Women)

October 29, 2019

 

Dear Diary ….

 

I know women.

 

Oh wait … that was a typo … I know NOTHING about women.

 

Look  … it’s important to understand your own strength and weaknesses.  I know cooking.  I know pointless details about fantasy football.  Women … I don’t know nothin’.

 

You ladies do an amazing job of holding on to the mystery.   You seem like simple creatures.  You even rope us in and make feel like, “yeah I’m starting to figure this out.”  Then you totally steer the ship into the opposite direction and leave us standing there wondering what the heck just happened.

 

Like for example … why do women take so long to do everything?  Like when my wife and I go to bed.  I go upstairs … brush my teeth … do whatever else I need to do in the bathroom … get into bed.  Boom.  Five minutes.

 

And now I’m ready … cuz it’s snuggly time.  Just waitin’ on the ol’ wife to join me.

 

And waiting …

 

And waiting …

 

And waiting.

 

What the heck is going on in there?

 

I mean, I get it, there’s there’s a couple more lotions and potions going on because ladies have a different routine, and men are just gross ogres that say, “Me go sleep now.”  

 

But still … how long does it really take to wash a face??  Where’s the hustle in all this?

 

I’ll be honest ladies … I think you’re doing it on purpose.  Just … taking your time … while we dudes lay there and … get a little sleepy …

 

Get a little sleepier…

 

Get … zzzzzzzzzz ….

 

Yup … mission accomplished, and now you’re over there watchin’ “Handmaid’s Tale” in peace.

 

Here’s another one … why do women seem like they’re always on a mission to lose their ID?

 

To men … the ID is the single most important rectangle we own.  We guard that thing with our lives.  We keep it in a certain spot in our wallet … and it NEVER leaves that spot.  That way we know exactly where it is at all times.

 

Women?  They treat that thing like it’s an old receipt from Burger King.  Sometimes it’s in their wallet.  Sometimes it’s in their bag.  Sometimes it’s just randomly tossed in a pocket.

 

“Oh I don’t know where my ID is”

 

You crazy, girl!

 

How can you be so casual about the single most important rectangle you own?

 

I’ll tell ya how … women are not held to the same punishments when they don’t have their ID.

 

Try to get into the club?  “Oh I can’t seem to find my ID … well let me check my shirt pocket here near my cleavage.  Oh … I can go in anyway?  Thank you so much!”

 

Meanwhile if you’re a guy without an ID?  Jail.  You’re in jail.

 

“Homeless John Doe spotted on street.  Thrown in jail.” No exceptions!

 

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

 

 

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