Friday, February 12, 2010

Five more minutes...

Okay, so my internal procrastination has been hitting the snooze a lot longer than I thought, and it's been almost 10 days since my last post. Yeesh. Well, anyway, I had a rant prepared (somewhat) for the Super Bowl, but I got pulled away half way through and forgot to finish it, so.... little late, but here you go:

Last Sunday, at least for those of us living in the United States, is probably the most infamous Sunday in the history of the country. And no, I'm not talking about Easter. It was the Super Bowl, a time for men to revel in the sport dressing in tight clothing and chasing down a ball and in a field of grass while attempting to grab and smother each other as much as possible. A sport of glory, of spirit and of fame, which two teams enter and only one team leaves victorious.

I hate football. But, to be fair, I hate most sports.

Yeah, I know, comparing football to a gay orgy has been done before but it's still funny. That's one of the many things I don't get about men. They are so intent on contradicting themselves that it almost seems like the national past time of this nation should be a bullshitting contest. I'm not saying football players are gay, because I'm sure they're not. And I'm not saying that people that watch football are gay, because gay people are smarter than that. What I'm getting at is that men go to great lengths to keep themselves distanced from each other in an attempt to avoid the classification of being homosexual. They won't hug, they rarely even pat each other on the back... I think the only physical contact they allow is a firm handshake from a distance of at least 2 feet away. And only with a specific hand. Yet you put them in a jersey and all of a sudden it's chest bumps, pats on the ass and choke holds. What the fuck did I miss here, because these guys were acting like they were dealing with a leprosy victim not two minutes ago? And they say that WE'RE confusing? Bwha?

I've also noticed that, whether it's on purpose or not, pigs seem to be the symbol of manliness. I'm not saying exactly that men are pigs or anything, but look at the facts here: When men let their male urges take full control, they are called pigs. Most men, when left to live on their own create a mess often refered to as a pig sty. They love bacon. A football is referred to as a pig skin, and while watching this sport, the snack of choice is pork rinds. It's not so much that I think men are pigs as they have an unwritten kinship with the animal that goes far beyond mere coincidence. Not that it's a bad thing, I mean.... I have nothing against pigs myself. I just thought I'd point it out.

Moving on, as you can tell, this rant is mainly about men. I'm not having man troubles unless you consider the fact that they confuse the fuck out of me on a regular basis as 'man troubles.' I'm happily single, thank you. The point of the matter is, I don't understand why they insist on making everything as difficult as possible just to try and prove some point no one cares about but them. A good example of this is directions. Men hate being given directions, whether it's driving or putting something together. They just can't stand it, like it's some personal insult that they might not know how to do something they've never done before. How does that make any sense? No one is going to think you're less of a man for not knowing how to do something you've never done before, yet if you pose a challenge to them, they will automatically claim that they know what they are doing and don't need any damn instructions. My dad was notorious for this. Even things like microwave dinners, he wouldn't read the instructions. He'd just throw the whole thing in for 6 minutes on high. It could be anything, 6 minutes on high. He couldn't use an oven to save his life. But that's okay because men don't cook. Cooking is a woman's job, right? Unless it's a barbecue. Then it's 'Move outta the way, darlin', I gots meat to cook.' Excuse me? How is cooking something on a stove any different than cooking it over an open flame? Food is fucking food, and you still have to prepare it the same way. I love how men love to say that it's not their job to cook, yet when you go on the food network, the majority of the hosts are male. Men cook. They like to cook, but if you tell them that they will deny it till the day they die. Having a skill that makes your life BETTER is not less manly. Men are so overly concerned about their manliness it's not even funny, check out some of the commercials that played this year during the Super Bowl:

For the Dodge Charger:

For Dockers:

You know, it's not that I hate men or anything, trust me. I'd much rather have a guy next to me in bed than a woman. They're just so irritating sometimes that it makes me want to scream. They're so full of inconsistancies and logical failings that it makes me feel like I'm stuck in some horrible Twilight Zone episode sometimes. But, I guess maybe that layer of WTF surrounding them protects them from the harshness of reality and keeps them from turning in a quivering pile of goo. I dunno.

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