Handymen and girlymen
So, in the midst of a heated discussion a few nights ago, there was mention of an interesting idea. Andrea said that there are basically two types of guys: Guys that are handy, and guys that are intellectual. She accused me of being the latter. Now, this might sound vaguely flattering, except that the context of the discussion was how I fail to perform my manly duties around the house, including but not limited to:
a) Building a small wooden box around some exposed piping in the bathroom.
b) Putting plastic up over a window in the attic.
c) Replacing some piece of a drippy faucet.
d) Lawn mowing.
e) Replacing the filters in the water filtration thingamajig in the basement.
Now, mind you, this is merely a current list. The premise of the discussion, as it went, was that I am simply not very good at taking care of things around the house, and that it was infuriating to her. Now, this is no new argument to me: Every woman I have lived with, including both stepmother and real mother, has lodged this same complaint against me.
Moreover, my own father recognizes me as the panty wearing little puss that I am; pointing out such inadequacies as improper insulation of my basement door, and failure to bring the hose inside before it froze (d'oh).
So, I suppose the question is, what kind of a man am I? I'm certainly not particularly intellectual... it is rare that I study for an exam before the day of. I don't enjoy math, history, most fine literature, or art. I tend towards horror novels, and the kind of movies that most of the folks that frequent Fall Creek Pictures would deem as trash.
Furthermore, I am woefully retarded with technology. Indeed, switching to blogger beta was not without snags. Learning to insert html into my posts was an eye squinting, cursing out loud affair.
Socially, I am reclusive, and shun actual meaningful communication, opting instead for the kind of airy, don't really want to know how you're feeling sort of banter that fair weather friends provide. It's easier.
I have determined something today: I am neither handy, nor intellectual.
I am merely lazy.
And I think I should re-explore substance abuse.
a) Building a small wooden box around some exposed piping in the bathroom.
b) Putting plastic up over a window in the attic.
c) Replacing some piece of a drippy faucet.
d) Lawn mowing.
e) Replacing the filters in the water filtration thingamajig in the basement.
Now, mind you, this is merely a current list. The premise of the discussion, as it went, was that I am simply not very good at taking care of things around the house, and that it was infuriating to her. Now, this is no new argument to me: Every woman I have lived with, including both stepmother and real mother, has lodged this same complaint against me.
Moreover, my own father recognizes me as the panty wearing little puss that I am; pointing out such inadequacies as improper insulation of my basement door, and failure to bring the hose inside before it froze (d'oh).
So, I suppose the question is, what kind of a man am I? I'm certainly not particularly intellectual... it is rare that I study for an exam before the day of. I don't enjoy math, history, most fine literature, or art. I tend towards horror novels, and the kind of movies that most of the folks that frequent Fall Creek Pictures would deem as trash.
Furthermore, I am woefully retarded with technology. Indeed, switching to blogger beta was not without snags. Learning to insert html into my posts was an eye squinting, cursing out loud affair.
Socially, I am reclusive, and shun actual meaningful communication, opting instead for the kind of airy, don't really want to know how you're feeling sort of banter that fair weather friends provide. It's easier.
I have determined something today: I am neither handy, nor intellectual.
I am merely lazy.
And I think I should re-explore substance abuse.
posted by Dr. Sun Si Miao at 1:42 PM
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