My observations of life are often expressed with my rather dark humor. I enjoy helping folks take a look at something serious, expressed my way.
I originally wrote this around eight-years-ago.
A conversation I overheard recently forced me to recall it. It also amused me to recollect that when I first posted this all those years ago I had some interesting reactions, some of the women that commented were initially outraged … Until they discovered that a woman had written it. Then it became suddenly acerbic and clever. Some of the men that commented, initially laughed and shared it … Until they discovered that a woman had written it. Fascinating, yes?
Besides which, it’s just sadly funny, and you don’t need any damned permission to laugh.
It’s ‘A Guy Thing’… guaranteed to contain NO Political-Correctness whatsoever.
“It’s A Guy Thing”
It’s very short … trust me.
“What the … ?”
So yeah, I’m an elephant. And yes, I am up a tree.
Okay, granted I look a bit out of place.
Well yeah, okay! I look fuckin’ ridiculous. I could go all ‘Alpha’ male and say I’m a sniper. But you guys aren’t gonna buy that crap, ’cause I’m not dressed in black.
And, no, Smart ass, I do not have a personality disorder, in fact I’ll have you know that my friends tell me often that I don’t have a personality at all.
Huh? What? Now wait just a damned minute … !
You want me to explain just how I got here! You’re shittin’ me, right?
Okay, alright already, but remember, you asked.
So, it was a normal Friday evening, the guys and I had finished pullin’ a long shift up at the logging camp, and we headed down to our favorite watering hole to toss back a few dozen cold ones.
The Jungle Bar was in full swing. We had all had seven or eight Jungle juices and were just starting to hang loose.
I was into a deep and meaningless conversation with Gerry Giraffe, aka the Big G, we were laughing it up big time. All the usual suspects were bullshitting about the size of their trunks, while the Big G and I were shootin’ the breeze about basketball.
We ignored the well dressed cats in the corner, they were listening to Streisand and crying a lot.
So, there we were doin’ our usual Friday night “guy” things, when in came the Trio from hell. I shit you not. Picture this, three of the ugliest, noisiest, annoying-est females, on this, or any other planet.
Harriet, Hesta, and Hermione Hyena … man I’m tellin’ ya, these females had faces uglier than the southern end of a north-bound Baboon; three faces that could cause ya to have temporary nausea. Are you with me so far?
They came busting into the joint screaming and laughing , and laughing and screaming and screami’ … well you get the general idea. They were hyster-ectomy-erical.
Or some other female P.M.S thing.
Anyways, they started on about somethin’ called a Soo-Nar-Me.
Hey, I’m not adverse to that Sushi stuff; ya know, it ain’t too bad. But, man they were carryin’ on like this Soo-Nar-Me stuff was to die for.
So, we did what any normal red-blooded males would do when confronted by three hysterical females; we ignored them.
Did I mention they were ugly?
Alrighty then, so we got back down to business and “A good time” was being had by all. Personally I think that is a perfectly ridiculous name for a female, but hey, whatever floats ya boat.
As it turns out, ignoring the ugly sisters was perhaps not the wisest choice we could have made. ‘Cause next thing we know is we are all surfing without benefit of boards!
Man, I mean this was the biggest fucking wave I have ever seen.
I up-periscoped the trunk and here I landed, in a big tree, with a fuckin’ huge eagles nest built in, filled with an entire restaurants worth of enormous eggs.
Did I mention that I swear? A lot.
I shit you not, my friends. I’m in a fuckin’ fix. And then some.
I sent my girlfriend Essie up to the logging camp, with orders to bring back a crane. Essie is just so beautiful, she has the biggest brownest eyes. I forced myself to remember that when she returned with her pretty trunk curled gently around the skinniest, long-legged-est, most pissed off bird I have ever seen. Man his feathers were ruffled.
Yeah, yeah, Okay! Sure, it was a Crane; but c’mon, how bright did she have to be?
Did I mention that Essie is beautiful?
So, It looks like I have some time to kill. I been thinkin’ that I maybe need to do a minor re-think on some of my attitudes.
Firstly, understand that seriously ugly females have their place in the world. Yeah, your place, his place, anywhere but my place.
Aw hell, poor things. But they’ve gotta be good at somethin’, right?
Hey, there’s a thought! Doh!
Secondly. I should maybe learn some important words and phrases in a couple of foreign languages; uh … such as, ‘Police,’ ‘Fire-Brigade,’ ‘Ambulance,’ ‘Pour me a beer,’ ‘My place or yours,’ ‘I’ll still respect you in the morning,’ and, ‘Of course I love you.’ You know; the guy thing stuff.
Thirdly. Find out what Show-van-ist means. I think it’s German.
Fourthly. I should maybe try and listen when someone seems to be upset about somethin’- even if they are ugly.
Oh-my-God! The damned eggs are hatchin’, I’m gonna be a daddy! How the hell do I explain this one to Essie the crane-fetcher?
Oh please! … Now what in the hell is goin’ on down on ground level?
There is some skinny-assed chicken down there, runnin’ around flappin’ his wings and fricasseein his ass, screechin’ “The sky is falling!”
What the fuck?
Anybody out there got an umbrella?
Some days it just ain’t worth getting out of my or anybody else’s bed. Even if they are ugly.
So! When I’m bailed out of the naughty corner I’ll write my next post.
In the interest of fairness, it will be titled … “It’s A Girl Thing.”
This is the picture that will accompany it.
I spare no one.