I Am Surrounded by the Follies of My Own Gender

I have not blogged for awhile.
But I will not apologize. Because to apologize would be to imply that people are relying on me, which they are not. I will not over-estimate the importance of my blog, as so many delusional people do.
I will apologize for something, though; I am sorry that I used "blog" as a verb.

I realized something today, and I think you ought to know what it is. Not that you are relying on this information or anything, but if you happen to be paying attention, you should find this information of worth.
What I realized is that women who say that all men are the same are idiots. Plain and simple.
Firstly, the statement is a gross exaggeration - has the speaker had experience with all men? I think not. And if she did manage such a feat, she would have to be a bit of a tramp, and most likely would not have trustworthy judgement, don't you think?
Women who claim that all men are the same have simply had perhaps a handful of bad relationship experiences, and are feeling down in the dumps. And in said dumps, they comfort themselves by thinking about every awful quality that ever was present in a man. This helps them to boost their self-esteem, and ignore the fact that part of the problem may have been them.

How can a woman say that all men are the same? Can you compare your garden variety suburban drug addict to an earnest youth worker? Not without disproving the bulk of your theory. Here is what you are likely to find when comparing varying men:

1. (Straight) men like women. Especially certain bodyparts.
2. Men are likely to think about these bodyparts for a good part of their day.
3. Men are often confused by women.
4. Men are sometimes made nervous by women.
5. Men may lie or exaggerate in order to try and win the favour of women they are attracted to.
6. Sometimes men don't know the right answer to the question a woman is asking, and may accidentally say something the woman doesn't like.
7. Men, like women, make mistakes.

Can we blame men if they occasionally give us an answer we don't like? Is it right to criticze them for telling us honestly that our hair looks dumb that way, or, yes, we do look fat in that dress? Is it our duty to hold a grudge for a week if they are a half hour late for dinner?
If we are upset by these things, it is because of several qualities common amongst women:

1. High maintenance
2. High standards
3. Obsession with mind games
4. The need to be lied to

Men are very drama-free. They lay things out flat on the table, and can become upset and ununderstanding when women expect the things in shining paper and a great big bow. This causes arguments, which cause tears and break-ups and other horrible things.
Some men are jerks.
Some women are sluts.
The world still turns.

I, myself, have very little experience with men. Most of my experience has been with boys, in fact. But from that experience I have learned the value of good judgement. I look for a smart man who reads good books, enjoys the films of Alfred Hitchcock, and has a deep hatred of most North Americans.
How can I go wrong with that?

R-E-S-P-E-C-T (Means Dry Faces).

I realized that my last blog was kind of personal, and did not follow my theme of having some kind of message, or story that might be interesting to others. Sorry.
On a contradictory note, a three year-old spat on my face the other day at work. And I found out that neither Chapters or The Oakville Centre for the Performing Arts is hiring. Life is a bitch.

Welly welly well,
On another, more depressing topic, I visited my grandma in the hospital today. She is in with a broken wrist, and may require surgery in weeks to come. I told her I would pray for her, but I forgot. I don't know that it would count, either way.
Across the room (though only separated by about a foot, the darned room was so small) was a very old and sickly-looking woman being visited by an old man. They were speaking what I believe was Italian, which I realized must come in handy in a hospital - to speak another language, that is. It would be such a relief to be able to have a conversation in a room with three other patients and not have to worry about privacy. Although, keeping bodily functions private did not seem to be this woman's priority; she belched like you would not believe. She sounded as though she was about to be sick, and I thought I might be, too. Poor old thing, though, perhaps she had uncontrollable stomach issues.

I'd like to grow old, but keep my dignity. I figure I am owed this, as I have learned that it is impossible to give birth and be left with any. I will spare you all the horrifying details, but know this; if childbirth is a miracle, God is a sadist.
Oh! Speaking of birth, I came up with a short story idea about a sperm bank, and two nurses running an under-the-counter operation selling sperm to women who want their children to have better qualities than their husbands.
Harsh, right?
Do you know what else is harsh?
having a three year-old spit on your face.

Get used to it.