Sunday, December 14, 2008

What Men Want!



* The following post refers to the desires of men. You may view language deemed lewd and inappropriate to women. Do not be alarmed. It is the nature of man and his native dialect must be spoken in order to successfully communicate. Pussy. There, I said it.

When we last left off, The Council of 11 (see prior blog) holistically addressed the wants of all women worldwide. When it was suggested that the needs of men also be discussed, I was told that it would be my shortest entry to date for male desires could easily be surmised in three words; Sex, Food, Beer. My sardonically infused retort; ha ha ha, lol, lmao, and lmfao. Ladies, I see it’s that time of the month again when your ignogestorone levels are through the roof. Oversimplification of the male psyche lends further credence to the gender divide. Men actually just want to spoon after we have sex and discuss marital plans ALL the time (pause for sustained laughter). Although we want sex, food & beer, any real man can tell you, Old English 800 bears no semblance to the finest of German ales. Seems we must re-engage negotiations in an effort to thoroughly delineate our desires. So put your damn Blackberry down and pay attention this time (I am convinced all women make love to their Blackberry’s / PDA’s at night!)

Sex – All vaginas are not created equal. We all know that 98% of vaginas are pleasurous canals of pure wonderment and delight. In order to understand why “He went to Jarred” however, we must realize that the packaging around said love box has already met prior specifications. Most men will have sex with just about anything with a heart beat and two X chromosomes, but ladies, do you really want to fall into the “anything” category? The true testament to how well your presentation is received rests not in its initial acceptance but in frequency (your staying power). When a man desires intercourse multiple times from the same woman, it speaks volumes about that woman, more so than the act of sex itself. Be it your effervescent aroma (hygiene), your sexy body (self-respect and esteem), or the way you make us feel during copulation (attentive and accommodating), your actions are executors to your mind’s estate and a mirror as to how you may handle otra tasks de la nuptials. A woman who doesn’t care if you got your nut off may also not care about making you a sandwich if you’re famished. All these factors contribute to helping me bust that literal and proverbial nut. Most importantly though, your sexy body should ignite the raging animal nature of man!!! Your ass should make all men want to bend you over the playground swing midday and lay waste to the structural integrity of the American Steel Welders Union. If your man is not willing to attack a rabid bear with a spatula to get some booty from you, renew your Bally’s membership.

Food – Food in this instance is representative of the edification of the soul. Nah. Fuck that. This is about What Men Want! Food means food! Firstly, realize that when you romanticize about being with the man of your dreams, you omit the FACT that you will be replacing his mother as the primary woman in his life and chief steward of all duties thereof. Expectations run high. Until we all (both men and women) realize that you are not our mothers, the only plausible solution is to do everything our mommies used to do. This includes a steaming hot, seven-course meal prepared immediately upon returning home from work everyday. Lemme guess; you’re tired right? You worked hard and your boss is a dick and your commute is long and blah blah blah . . . “Is today Monday Night Football?” Oh I’m sorry, my mind drifted amidst all the belly aching about why you are terrible spousal material. My ass stayed chunky because my mom was / is an iron chef with 11 herbs and spices and your momma was too so who are you trying to bamboozle and lead astray? Let’s just call this what it is, you just don’t feel like cooking. The main difference between your momma and you (and this goes for generation X really) is that your momma was willing to do what was necessary to keep the party going and you just want to party. You are not a terrible person for this however (I guess). Just don’t ask to host the party if you don’t want the responsibilities that come with it.

Beer - Beer represents “I love you but get the hell outta my face!” Men call it beer. Women call it shopping, the Lifetime Network, Oprah, etc. . . . If a man is drinking beer, he is trying to escape. Be it from the rigors of life, or the fact that his significant other is leading him to drink, leave him be. The sweet nectar of the gods is the vessel that leaves Ginger, Maryanne, and Ms. Howell ashore as Thurston, Gilligan, Skipper, and the Professor sail off with a coconut crusted bong and the Giants game on the transmitter radio. Whether we are reliving our youth and virility through professional sports (of which you are not a part), or browsing for your potential replacement at the bars and clubs (of which you will soon be a part), beer represents man time. A time where men can partake in traditional Man games such as “Can you guess what I had for lunch by the smell of my farts”, “Did I shower today?” and my personal favorite, “Oh shit son, look at her ass!” (for ages 10 and up, no ASS-embly required). Beer doesn’t necessarily represent beer though. It could be any testosterone-infested activity harmful to either said man or those around him. The trick to “BEER” is knowing how to read your man’s beer face. If he remotely looks like he may be having the type of day that warrants a beer, immediately retrieve several beers from the fridge and roll them into the room without being seen (the mere site of you may further infuriate the situation), then retire to the bedroom fully naked until he comes to get you. It may be minutes. May be weeks. Time is not relevant. Do your part!

If you as a woman have somehow managed to provide Sex, Food, and Beer for your man as decreed above, you are already happily married and this was a complete waste of your time. The rest of you however, take it from the top.

*Side bar; Women who cannot perform this doctrine in it’s entirety should not be frustrated, for men are entitled, nay, forced to sleep with the whole (that’s WHOLE) comprised from the sum of other’s parts (the Spanish secretary’s lips, the meter maid's thighs, your ugly girlfriend’s personality after a 21 Patron shot salute, etc). Sidebar complete.

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