What the hell is wrong with women, anyway? They totally can’t recognize when something’s frickin’ cool. And by “women,” of course, I mean my wife.
It’s Saturday afternoon and I’m almost done with my chicken coop. I’ve got the roosts in, and the sliding door covering the chicken entrance. Now all that’s left are the mechanisms for opening and closing the shutters. I have two big shutters which open at the top of the front of the coop, and for weeks I’ve been brooding about how to open and close the durned things, especially once the chicken run is blocking direct access. This morning it hits me: I need a rope and pulley system!
So quick as a bunny I go out and purchase the aforesaid rope and pulleys and install them. It works like a dream. You pull on the ropes, the shutters go up. You tie off the ropes on the convenient tie-offy pieces of wood, and they stay up. You untie the ropes, and they go down. It’s frickin’ brilliant!
Seriously. Isn't this the frickin' coolest thing you've EVER seen?
So, feeling like I just rigged up the mainsail on the HMS Studmuffin, I trot off to show my wife, triumphant manly man-musk pouring out of every pore.
She looks at it a moment and says, “That’s ugly.”
My ego deflates like a flatulent balloon with a spike in it.
“What” I demand, “are you talking about? That’s the coolest thing ever!”
She says, “Maybe, but it’s also ugly. I thought you were going to use those hinges that stay open.”
I’m not sure what the hell she’s talking about, but that’s kind of beside the point at the moment. I try to reason with her. “You’re crazy,” I state. “I love these frickin’ things. They’re totally awesome. Don’t you understand, I’m using pulleys! There’s not a guy in the world who wouldn’t think these things weren’t totally excellent!”
She says, “Yeah, but there isn’t a woman in the world who wouldn’t tell you it’s ugly. But if you like it, Honey, that’s the important thing. I’m sure they’re great.”
“Pttptptptptptptppt,” I riposte, and the action, as it were, became general.
After several minutes of healthy give and take we called the whole thing a draw and moved on.
In the meantime…
Speaking of crazy people, do you ever watch Project Runway? Basically, each week a dozen or so hot young fashion designers each create a frock or a dress or caftan or some damned thing according to the specific instructions of the particular challenge. One week they may each have to create a “fashion-forward” prom dress for the obnoxious fat children of the super-sluts of some other TV show, while in another week they may have to create evening wear out of cheese products.
Once created, the designers staple the clothing onto various more or less anorexic runway models, and the creations are judged by three fashionistas, including the eminently munchable Heidi Klum. They critique the pieces and appoint a winner. The losing designer is booted off of the program, presumably to be killed and eaten by Morlocks. It’s a fun show, largely because it displays the ever-widening cultural divide between the rich and fashionable of both coasts and the other seven billion people on the planet.
For example, one of the submissions this week was a party dress created entirely out of black and white napkins. Now that wasn’t the weird part − the challenge was to use party supplies to create the dress (and at least this designer didn’t gut the shit out of several large plush doggies to make her outfit like another did).
Fun and flirty, but not vulgar - much like the author!
No, the weird part was that the judges thought that the dress was the nicest thing they’d seen. “Fun and flirty,” they crooned, “but not vulgar.”
“I can see a girl wearing that dress to a party,” one said. “It makes her sexy and powerful.”
Now this particular outfit looks like something that would be worn by a green alien bimbo about to make out with Captain Kirk in 1969. Hell, the cleavage pretty much goes all the way down to the girl’s tramp-stamp (if she had one which I can tell you from close personal observation she doesn’t). You can see a whole lot of boobage, and if she leaned forward or sneezed, you’d be pretty assured of seeing “all the way to Argentina.”
“Fun and flirty” my Aunt Fanny.
Not that I’m complaining, mind you! Don’t get me wrong: I think that the world would be a better place if more women looked like they just stepped out of Dead or Alive, Extreme Beach Volleyball. But the point is, the world isn’t a better place. There’s nowhere outside of certain exclusive neighborhoods in New York, LA, London and Berlin − or a strip club − where anyone could wear this outfit without causing major male whiplash, if not a minor riot. What the hell are these judges thinking?
And these are the people who control what women wear? Hell, it’s no wonder that women don’t know what’s really cool!
Say. Maybe next week Project Runway will have a nautical themed challenge, like with rope and pulleys and stuff. Somebody call Tim Gunn. Even though he’s in fashion, he’s still a guy. I bet he’d totally approve of my chicken coop.
