I think I have Cabin Fever
Thursday, Dec. 29, 2005 at 9:18 a.m.
Still sick. I feel like a bear ripped off my head and crapped down my neck. I really shouldn�t be at work and I�m hoping to leave soon.
So in an effort to close the gap between men and women (see yesterday�s entry) I asked Hubster why he didn�t make me a plate of leftovers. Why did he only make one for himself? He said that because I was sick, he didn�t know whether I was hungry. And that he preferred to make his own plate so I wouldn�t breathe all over his. And the fact was, it only took me 2 minutes to make my own plate so what was the big deal?
I don�t think I made any headway.
Someone better tell porktornado that his baby picture is floating around the Net:
As I was riding up the elevator this morning, some guy was talking about how the Dunkin� Donuts Dude (�time to make the donuts�) died the other day. Died of diabetes, apparently. If that�s true, then I hope that Dunkin� Donuts Dude is up there in heaven with Elvis next to Jesus in a big purple chair. �Coz that�s where Elvis has been since he left the building. I am now going to take more cold meds and attempt to jump on a ship that�s arriving too late to save a drowning witch and later I�ll make more obscure Frank Zappa references.
But for now, The Daily Snark-O-Meter presents:
Ohh, dude. C�mon. You can�t tell me you�ve never heard of the �hell hath no fury� quote. Even in your cave with the internet access. See, women are like cats. George Carlin did this experiment once. Take a baby baby, that is, a human baby, and a puppy, and a kitten, and attack all three of them. Actually, don�t do that, but just imagine for our hypothetical purposes. If you attack a baby, he cries. If you attack a puppy, he cowers. Attack a kitten, and she just puts the claws out there and goes �Mew!� Eyes aren�t even open and the kitten�s already looking for some shit to put some hurt on. Most women will react the same way, if not for themselves, then for somebody else. That�s partially why we all go to the restroom in packs. The other reason is that we have the cure for baldness in there and you can�t have it.
Of course, women react to being scorned in all different levels. Spray-painting epithets on a car really is not my style. This is:
It�s all about the group humiliation, baby. On the other end of the spectrum are people who are perfectly capable of making an ass of themselves:
Or how about:
Or even better, the marketing genius who came up with this:
You know, I�m not going to fret too much anymore about the whys and wherefores of Hubster�s or men in general�s doin�s. Mostly because I�m laughing too hard to really think about it.