Merle here, with my latest report on women. If you ain’t a woman, you might want to read this on account that means you’re a man and this could be real helpful when you’re a dealin with the Mrs. Next time, and you all know you’ll be a dealin with her, that’s the law! I’ve been trying to figure women out now for the better part of fifty years now depending on whether puberty was officially christened on my eleventh birthday or twelfth. I do know I was a peeking through the keyhole at my cousin Gena when I was eleven, so I’m leanin towards eleven. She was thirteen and had a pretty nice set of brand new hooters and that one cost me a bloody nose on account she also had a couple of pretty good fists to go along with the hooters. Milkin cows by hand’ll give ya some pretty good meat hooks.
Well one of the great mysteries in my life is why women tend to be a tad crazy at times. I was over at Arlene’s the other night and she seemed perfectly normal one minute and then the next minute she was a bawling her eyes out a claimin I just wanted to be around her on account of the sex and not because of the person she was deep down inside. Well, hello! Why else would a feller want to be around a woman? I sure as shag don’t give a tinker’s damn about getting in touch with my inner feelins and a chattin about flowers and stuff. What’s wrong with sex? Well it left me absolutely mystified it did. She was fine one minute, a flirtin and everything and the next thing you know, the damn burst and so did my evening of undercover work.
I decided it was time to get to the bottom of all this and I set to pondering. What was it that was different about women and men besides the various and a sundry parts etc? Then it hit me like a flash. The damn critters shave their underarms! Now think about that for a minute. So’s I headed for the john while makin sure there was nobody a hidin in the house with a camera like them pooperazzi’s and I got out the shavin cream, my double edge razor and I set forth where no man had dared go before. Well twenty minutes, six band aids and a plugged up sink later I had reached a level of deep understanding concerning Arlene and her kind. I “REALLY” reached a deep understanding when I sprayed my pits with my Old Spice Xtra Strength deodorant. I thought somebody’d set my pits on fire with a match and five gallon can of unleaded 89 octane gasoline. I spent the next hour a walkin around the house a flappin my damn arms like a friggin Sea Gull a squawkin away. Not sure if Sea Gulls say things like “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, hot, hot, hot” but that’s what I was a squawkin. No wonder are crazier than loons and a cryin all the time! It’s downright painful. I gathered Arlene must have snuck into the John and done a quick shave for me and she was over-come with pain. Poor woman, she just needs to go Frenchy and not subject herself to such abuse.
Well, it was a revelation and I now have a lot more empathy for the ladies than I ever did before. I also can’t raise my arms up for at least two weeks until we get everything grow’d back properly. I got my pride if nothing else. Being a studious guy can get ya in trouble I tell ya. I smeared some Rogaine on my pits to help speed the process back to normalcy and now I swear my nose hairs are getting all bushy. There must be a connection but I’ll be damned if I’m stickin my nose into that one. I’ve endured enough pain for one day. Beam me up Scotty!
Well one of the great mysteries in my life is why women tend to be a tad crazy at times. I was over at Arlene’s the other night and she seemed perfectly normal one minute and then the next minute she was a bawling her eyes out a claimin I just wanted to be around her on account of the sex and not because of the person she was deep down inside. Well, hello! Why else would a feller want to be around a woman? I sure as shag don’t give a tinker’s damn about getting in touch with my inner feelins and a chattin about flowers and stuff. What’s wrong with sex? Well it left me absolutely mystified it did. She was fine one minute, a flirtin and everything and the next thing you know, the damn burst and so did my evening of undercover work.
I decided it was time to get to the bottom of all this and I set to pondering. What was it that was different about women and men besides the various and a sundry parts etc? Then it hit me like a flash. The damn critters shave their underarms! Now think about that for a minute. So’s I headed for the john while makin sure there was nobody a hidin in the house with a camera like them pooperazzi’s and I got out the shavin cream, my double edge razor and I set forth where no man had dared go before. Well twenty minutes, six band aids and a plugged up sink later I had reached a level of deep understanding concerning Arlene and her kind. I “REALLY” reached a deep understanding when I sprayed my pits with my Old Spice Xtra Strength deodorant. I thought somebody’d set my pits on fire with a match and five gallon can of unleaded 89 octane gasoline. I spent the next hour a walkin around the house a flappin my damn arms like a friggin Sea Gull a squawkin away. Not sure if Sea Gulls say things like “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, hot, hot, hot” but that’s what I was a squawkin. No wonder are crazier than loons and a cryin all the time! It’s downright painful. I gathered Arlene must have snuck into the John and done a quick shave for me and she was over-come with pain. Poor woman, she just needs to go Frenchy and not subject herself to such abuse.
Well, it was a revelation and I now have a lot more empathy for the ladies than I ever did before. I also can’t raise my arms up for at least two weeks until we get everything grow’d back properly. I got my pride if nothing else. Being a studious guy can get ya in trouble I tell ya. I smeared some Rogaine on my pits to help speed the process back to normalcy and now I swear my nose hairs are getting all bushy. There must be a connection but I’ll be damned if I’m stickin my nose into that one. I’ve endured enough pain for one day. Beam me up Scotty!
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