What Men Say & What They Mean

"I'm going fishing." Really means... "I'm going to drink myself dangerously stupid and stand by a stream with a stick in my hand, while the fish swim by in complete safety."
"It's a guy thing." Really means.... "There is no rational thought pattern connected with it, and you have no chance at all of making it logical."
"Can I help with dinner?" Really means.... "Why isn't it already on the table?"
"Uh huh," "Sure, honey," or "Yes, dear." Really means.... Absolutely nothing. It's a conditioned response.
"It would take too long to explain." Really means... "I have no idea how it works."
"I'm getting more exercise lately." Really means... "The batteries in the remote are dead."
"We're going to be late." Really means.... "Now I have a legitimate excuse to drive like a maniac."
"Take a break, honey, you're working too hard." Really means.... "I can't hear the game over the vacuum cleaner."
"That's interesting, dear." Really means... ."Are you still talking?"
"Honey, we don't need material things to prove our love." Really means.... "I forgot our anniversary again."
"You expect too much of me." Really means.... "You want me to stay awake?"
"That's women's work." Really means....  "It's difficult, dirty, and thankless."
"You know how bad my memory is." Really means....   "I remember the theme song to 'F Troop', the address of the first girl I ever kissed and the Vehicle Identification Numbers of every car I've ever owned, but I forgot your birthday."
"Oh, don't fuss. I just cut myself, it's no big deal." Really means.... "I have severed a limb, but will bleed to death before I admit I'm hurt."
"I do help around the house." Really means...   "I once put a dirty towel in the laundry basket."
"Hey, I've got my reasons for what I'm doing." Really means.... "I sure hope I think of some reasons pretty soon."
"I can't find it." Really means.... "It didn't fall into my outstretched hands, so I'm completely clueless."
"What did I do this time?" Really means.... "What did you catch me doing?"
"I heard you." Really means.... "I haven't the foggiest clue what you just said, and am hoping desperately that I can fake it well enough so that you don't spend the next three days yelling at me."
"You look terrific." Really means.... "Oh, God, please don't try on one more outfit. I'm starving."
"I missed you." Really means.... "I can't find my sock drawer, the kids are hungry and we are out of toilet paper."
"I'm not lost. I know exactly where we are." Really means...."I'm lost. I have no idea where we are, and no one will ever see us alive again."
"We share the housework." Really means.... "I make the messes, you clean them up."
"This relationship is getting too serious." Really means.... "You're cutting into the time I spend with my truck."
"I don't need to read the instructions." Really means.... "I am perfectly capable of screwing it up without printed help."

Chauvinist Pigs...Bulb?

Q:  How many male chauvinistic pigs does it take to change a light bulb?
A:  None. Let the bitch do it by herself. Or None. Let the bitch cook in the dark.

In Class Assignment at SMU

Remember the book "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus?" Well, here's a prime example offered by an English professor at Southern Methodist University:
In-class Assignment for Wednesday:
Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple.  Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his other immediate right.  One of you will then write the first paragraph of a short story.  The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back and forth.  Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached. The following was actually turned in by two of my  English students, Rebecca and Gary. "
At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator.  "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off, a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.
He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth  -- when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully. Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Au'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through Congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion which vaporized Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table. "We can't allow this! I'm going to veto that treaty! Let's blow'em out of the sky!" This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic, semi-literate adolescent. Yeah?  Well, you're a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium.
Asshole.
Bitch.