Equal Parts

This weekend while it was pouring down rain and I parked my butt in front of the TV, I was pondering. You know what happens when I do that. My mind goes crazy. I mean you can only watch so many episodes of Ghost Whisperer before you start thinking there's crap hidden in your closet. 

I got to thinking about man versus woman. Now before you start disagreeing this is my take on this. If you believe your are equal. Yahoo! But I don't believe that woman can do everything a man can do or should do. 

For instance, why would I want pee standing up? Further more why would I want a protruding one eyed wonder horse exiting my body? God gave me the ability to do squats. Which I should be doing 25 of by the way instead of writing this post. So what if I can't write in the snow. One up for the women.

Second, is it really a mans job to mow the grass? Females may disagree but I think so. I hate to even smell the fresh cut grass. I get snot bubbles and my eyes swell up. But there is something a man loves about mowing down weeds. It gives them empowerment to own a riding device with a blade. I think they could secretly have hidden serial killer instincts. My Duh sees a dandelion and puts the mower in high gear at speeds that only tractor trailer trucks should have just to mow over a weed with fuzzy things on the end. Then of course this killing device has to have its own home that I get to pay for and it stays there rent free just so the elements of the earth don't destroy it. Sometimes, I think if I didn't know who John Deere was, he was having an affair.

When you go out dancing the man is always the lead. I've done some country two steppin' in my day. And it would probably look pretty funny twirling around a guy in cowboy hat. I am pretty certain that I couldn't pick him up twirl him around and swing him through my legs successfully. But to a guy that's the greatest achievement. It's like a male cheerleader. Why wouldn't they try out for that rather than football? Football players get the shit knocked out of them and all for what? Seven measly points. A male cheerleader gets to put his hand up the girls butt, halfway to the crotch, watch their ass jiggle during the fight song and before the nights over a possible tit shot. As a woman, I don't want to put my hand on anything that I know excludes poop the size of tree logs or expels enough gas to cause a nuclear war. 

I like being a woman. If you ask me its the greatest thing since sliced bread. I don't have the great urge in the boiling heat to mow the grass if someone else is going to volunteer. I can say no to a cowboy who's stuffed his package so tight into his pants that there's a cowboy cha cha going on in his Wranglers on its own, and I would rather not stand behind a guy that can do a toe touch for one hour every Saturday during the fall season when I can watch some guy on the field in tight pants bend over with chips and dip in the comfort of my own living room. 

Believe me I am good with not being an equal in some parts of this great big world. 

Happy Monday,

Dusty