Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

The other day, Ol’ Robbo and the Youngest Gel were going somewhere or other together in La Wrangler.   As I drove along, teh gel became absorbed in fiddling with her hair, trying it out in various styles.  The conversation went something like:

Gel:  Do you like it this way?

Self:  It’s fine.

Gel:  How about like this?

Self:  It’s fine.

Gel:  Well, maybe this way?

Self: Fine.

Gel:  You’re just being sarcastic!

Self:  No, I think they all look good.  (Which was true, btw, even if I was trying to get her to stop.)

Gel:  Ha! You’re just saying that! Oh, boo, hoo, hoo…….

Self:  Oh, for Heaven’s sake.  Look, you’re just being female.  I don’t know if you people can’t make up your own minds or choose not to, all I know is that you don’t and won’t.  Jeesh!

Gel:  Daaaa-aaad!  That’s sexist!

Self:  Hey, I call ’em like I see ’em.

It occurs to me that I no longer live with a wife and three daughters.  More accurately, I live with four wimminz.  And I stick to my empirical observation that wimminz will never settle for a single, uncomplicated resolution where there are myriad ambiguities with which to play.  It seems to be a kind of catnip to them.

Sigh.  And then they wonder why I watch so many John Wayne movies……

Incidentally, this trait may also explain their inability either to properly load the dishwasher, to follow geographic directions or to pay attention to the clock.   Again, in each instance there are simple, rational solutions which apparently are of no concern to teh female psyche.

Again, I just call ’em like I see ’em.

And yes, I denounce myself.

 

 

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