Four married guys go golfing. During the 4th hole the following
conversation took place:
First Guy: You have no idea what I had to do to be able to come out
golfing this weekend. I had to promise my wife that I will paint every
room in the house next weekend.
Second Guy: That’s nothing, I had to promise my wife that I will build
her a new deck for the pool.
Third Guy: Man, you both have it easy! I had to promise my wife that I
will remodel the kitchen for her.
They continue to play the hole when they realized that the fourth guy has
not said a word. So they ask him, You haven’t said anything about what
you had to do to be able to come golfing this weekend. What’s the deal?
Fourth Guy: I just set my alarm for 5:30a.m., When it goes off, I shut
off my alarm, give the wife a budge and say, ‘Golf Course or Intercourse?’
So she says, Wear your sweater.
Showing posts with label men. Show all posts
Showing posts with label men. Show all posts
Tuesday, 24 June 2008
Tuesday, 12 February 2008
Monday, 02 July 2007
Male vs Female
A Spanish teacher was explaining to her class that, in Spanish, nouns are masculine or feminine. "House, for instance, is feminine: la casa'."
A student asked: "What gender is computer'?" The teacher split the class into males and females and asked them to decide.
The men decided that "computer" should definitely be feminine ("la computadora"), because no-one but their creator understands their internal logic; the language they use to communicate with other computers is incomprehensible to everyone else; the smallest mistakes are stored in long-term memory; and, as soon as you make a commitment to one, you find yourself spending half your pay cheque on accessories for it.
The women concluded that computers should be masculine ("el computador"), because to do anything with them you have to turn them on; they have a lot of data but can't think; they are supposed to help you solve problems but they are the problem; and as soon as you commit to one, you realise that if you had waited you could have had a better one.
A student asked: "What gender is computer'?" The teacher split the class into males and females and asked them to decide.
The men decided that "computer" should definitely be feminine ("la computadora"), because no-one but their creator understands their internal logic; the language they use to communicate with other computers is incomprehensible to everyone else; the smallest mistakes are stored in long-term memory; and, as soon as you make a commitment to one, you find yourself spending half your pay cheque on accessories for it.
The women concluded that computers should be masculine ("el computador"), because to do anything with them you have to turn them on; they have a lot of data but can't think; they are supposed to help you solve problems but they are the problem; and as soon as you commit to one, you realise that if you had waited you could have had a better one.
My wife is sometime's a man!
My wife,(who I love dearly- yes, she does read this blog now and again)is a normal, feisty redhead with definite opinions on the differences between men and women. I tend to agree with her about most of them except one.
When she gets sick, (especially with flu)she behaves like a man.Or rather, the classical feminine exaggeration of male patients behaviour.
She develops exaggerated symptoms...
a sniffle is pneumonia;
a cough is double pneumonia;
she suddenly speaks in a squeaky "sorry, but I am dying voice";
she refuses to take any medication: 'it came by itself, it can leave by itself';
she behaves like the Dying Swan in Swan Lake...lies on the couch, with remote in hand, barking orders for "tea, or coffee or something to nibble on".
She drives me nuts.
I drink my Med-lemon, go to work and infect everybody else. I wipe my nose and carry on with the job.
Women!!
When she gets sick, (especially with flu)she behaves like a man.Or rather, the classical feminine exaggeration of male patients behaviour.
She develops exaggerated symptoms...
a sniffle is pneumonia;
a cough is double pneumonia;
she suddenly speaks in a squeaky "sorry, but I am dying voice";
she refuses to take any medication: 'it came by itself, it can leave by itself';
she behaves like the Dying Swan in Swan Lake...lies on the couch, with remote in hand, barking orders for "tea, or coffee or something to nibble on".
She drives me nuts.
I drink my Med-lemon, go to work and infect everybody else. I wipe my nose and carry on with the job.
Women!!
Tuesday, 12 June 2007
I Despise the Gym
I despise the gym.
I especially despise a twelve month contract binding me to self-abuse.
I despise the gym
I despise twenty year old wankers with a six pack and overdeveloped pecs, posing in front of mirrors.
I despise the gym.
I despise getting up at sparrows fart to avoid the crowds.
I despise the gym.
I despise love handles
I despise the gym
I despise sweat burning my eyes
I despise the gym
I despise getting old.
Did I mention I despise the gym?
I especially despise a twelve month contract binding me to self-abuse.
I despise the gym
I despise twenty year old wankers with a six pack and overdeveloped pecs, posing in front of mirrors.
I despise the gym.
I despise getting up at sparrows fart to avoid the crowds.
I despise the gym.
I despise love handles
I despise the gym
I despise sweat burning my eyes
I despise the gym
I despise getting old.
Did I mention I despise the gym?
Wednesday, 30 May 2007
Shaving and other hairy bits
I was lazy last week. I did not bother to shave for ten days, until the Flea banned me from the bedroom.
Friday night, in the bathroom with one of those horrible expensive new eighty five bucks for a single blade razors, I decided to play. First, I shaved my neck hair off, in a classic beard cut. Nipped out to the kitchen. the Flea just glared at me.
Step two, mutton chop whiskers...clean the chin, trim down to the jawline...back to the kitchen...glare number two. Back to the bathroom.
Shave off the sideburns, and clean up the jawline. A mean Charles Bronson, crossed with a boy from Benoni mustache down past the mouth down to the chin.
Back to the kitchen... "If you think you're getting anything here, forgedaboudit!!'was the Flea's response to my new look.
I went into the lounge. Surely somebody in the house would admire my new,mean look.
My son said: " Dad, you look like a biker!" My ego swelled, "a gay Biker".
I shaved myself clean two minutes later.
Little shit!
Friday night, in the bathroom with one of those horrible expensive new eighty five bucks for a single blade razors, I decided to play. First, I shaved my neck hair off, in a classic beard cut. Nipped out to the kitchen. the Flea just glared at me.
Step two, mutton chop whiskers...clean the chin, trim down to the jawline...back to the kitchen...glare number two. Back to the bathroom.
Shave off the sideburns, and clean up the jawline. A mean Charles Bronson, crossed with a boy from Benoni mustache down past the mouth down to the chin.
Back to the kitchen... "If you think you're getting anything here, forgedaboudit!!'was the Flea's response to my new look.
I went into the lounge. Surely somebody in the house would admire my new,mean look.
My son said: " Dad, you look like a biker!" My ego swelled, "a gay Biker".
I shaved myself clean two minutes later.
Little shit!
Tuesday, 22 May 2007
Winter Blues and Spring Cleaning
I realized one thing this morning. I thank my lucky stars I am not an Eskimo, or a Canadian, American,Swede or any other lost soul living anywhere nearby snow!
I hate cold weather. No, I despise cold weather!
I woke up this morning, in the dark, thanks to another bit of load shedding by Eskom. I had to take a cold shower in the dark. Damn, it was cold. It was so cold I came close to having a sex change! I flat-out refused to shave. Anybody who shaves in cold water is simply not right in the head. After a vigorous bout of screaming and jumping in the shower, I had to find clothes. In the Dark.
The Flea was just a lump under the covers. She did not even twitch, throughout my sex change ordeal. The Bitch! Considering I could not find any matches, the fact that I could not find any candles did not really matter. All I could find was a vanilla incense stick, and that did not help much.
What made my desperate search for clothes worse was that the Flea had decided to do a springclean yesterday. In my cupboard. The socks were gone, my boxers were on another shelf, my shirts...who knows.
By the time I could see what I was wearing, I was halfway to work. It looks like my colourblind granny dressed me. Strange combinations of colours.
Which brings me to my point.
Why do women love spring cleaning? At random times of the year?
The Flea drives me up the wall, with her continual changing of our bedroom. I never know from one week to the next where the bed is going to be, what colour the walls are going to be painted, or where my stuff is.
I can live with the bed being moved, or the new paint job or the new curtain, duvet etc.... but LEAVE my stuff alone. I like knowing where it is!
I hate cold weather. No, I despise cold weather!
I woke up this morning, in the dark, thanks to another bit of load shedding by Eskom. I had to take a cold shower in the dark. Damn, it was cold. It was so cold I came close to having a sex change! I flat-out refused to shave. Anybody who shaves in cold water is simply not right in the head. After a vigorous bout of screaming and jumping in the shower, I had to find clothes. In the Dark.
The Flea was just a lump under the covers. She did not even twitch, throughout my sex change ordeal. The Bitch! Considering I could not find any matches, the fact that I could not find any candles did not really matter. All I could find was a vanilla incense stick, and that did not help much.
What made my desperate search for clothes worse was that the Flea had decided to do a springclean yesterday. In my cupboard. The socks were gone, my boxers were on another shelf, my shirts...who knows.
By the time I could see what I was wearing, I was halfway to work. It looks like my colourblind granny dressed me. Strange combinations of colours.
Which brings me to my point.
Why do women love spring cleaning? At random times of the year?
The Flea drives me up the wall, with her continual changing of our bedroom. I never know from one week to the next where the bed is going to be, what colour the walls are going to be painted, or where my stuff is.
I can live with the bed being moved, or the new paint job or the new curtain, duvet etc.... but LEAVE my stuff alone. I like knowing where it is!
Wednesday, 09 May 2007
Clan of the Cave Man
There was an old song by Jonah Louis, ‘you always find me in the kitchen at parties’. I always wind up, tongs in hand, next to the fire when having a braai. The Flea says I am just being full of shit. She says all men think they are the original caveman. Uggh! Oook! Drag those knuckles on the ground! As a caveman, we are blessed with instincts...we can cook meat. On a fire. With a stick.
The Flea can be a sarcastic bitch when she wants to be. Don’t you, sweetie?
Anyhow, being full of shit,as well as being a typical South African male, I know that everybody else fucks up the meat on the braai. I, on the other hand, am Grog, caveman chef! T-bones, chicken, ribs, boerewors, chops, if its braaied by me, you will eat it and enjoy it! I like eating steak cooked so rare that if taken to a good vet, it should take a day or two in the ICU for the cow to recover.
Too many people eat overcooked meat. My sister in law insists on eating extra well done meat. What a waste!. I keep threatening to take a boerewors shaped stick of charcoal, shove it in a roll with All Gold tomato sauce, and see if she can taste the difference.
The Flea can be a sarcastic bitch when she wants to be. Don’t you, sweetie?
Anyhow, being full of shit,as well as being a typical South African male, I know that everybody else fucks up the meat on the braai. I, on the other hand, am Grog, caveman chef! T-bones, chicken, ribs, boerewors, chops, if its braaied by me, you will eat it and enjoy it! I like eating steak cooked so rare that if taken to a good vet, it should take a day or two in the ICU for the cow to recover.
Too many people eat overcooked meat. My sister in law insists on eating extra well done meat. What a waste!. I keep threatening to take a boerewors shaped stick of charcoal, shove it in a roll with All Gold tomato sauce, and see if she can taste the difference.
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