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.

Peeing by the numbers

Speaking as a common or garden male member of the genus Homo Sapiens, there is one thing that I find absolutely incomprehensible and downright irritating:

Why can women only go pee in teams? How many seats are there in the average ladies loo that you all go pee at the same time?

I have heard of the phenomenon in female boarding schools and in nunneries where due to living in such close quarters, women's menstrual cycles synchronise and they all have simultaneous PMS .

Does the same thing apply to women’s bladders? Do you all suddenly have the urge to pee at the same time?

This is something that puzzles every man that has gone on a date with a women for the first time, and in a group. The women may be total strangers, having met that night, but as true as God, instant urinary synchronization will take place, and off you go – all of you – at the same fucking time! Why? Why? Why? Why?

It does not make sense to a man. You pee alone and shut the fuck up. Any comments or discussions in the toilet might wind up with you either getting a fat lip or being known as a South African George Michael. You don’t wanna go there! You don’t look left, you don’t look right. All admiring comments are kept to yourself. If you have the urge to talk you wait til you are on your way out!

Can somebody explain?

Questions you don't answer.

As any married man can confirm, there are a few pearls of wisdom that we can give to our unmarried male friends.

Rule no 1: Do not ever answer the following question-

"honey, do these jeans make me look fat?"

If you say yes, you are SCREWED. Move straight to the doghouse, do not pass go, do not collect R200. If you say no, and her arse looks like two pigs fighting in a hessian sack, you are SCREWED. Move straight to the doghouse, etc,etc. (you know she knows she has a fat arse...what are you trying to prove?)You must avoid at all costs telling her that it's not the jeans making her look fat, it is her fat making her look fat!

Rule no 2: This question usually winds up with you getting married or in splitsville.(take your pick)

"Honey, where is this relationship going?"

Going? You did not know relationships went anywhere except to bed? Answer this at your peril.
Take a deep breath, step back from the TV and your beer and focus very clearly here. Your entire bachelorhood stands at risk here, so a careful, well considered "I dunno, " is not going to do the trick.
Let her speak first and take your cue from her. If she talks about the next level and you haven't hit the sack yet, rejoice, young man, rejoice. Your luck is in.

If you have been sleeping with your partner, and she starts asking this question, one of two things needs to happen.

a) run like hell, if you value your bachelorhood; or

b)surrender gracefully, you are heading for a church very soon.