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Chuck and Cletus 2.com
News Satire and Funny Photos.
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What We're Doing Right Now ...
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Written by That Chick
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Monday, 12 May 2008 |
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  When I was about ten or eleven I was forced to watch the movie “Gone with the Wind”. I know, I know. It’s an epic love story and it’s one of the greatest stories ever told and whatnot, but honestly? I didn’t care for it.
Possibly because I was eleven and still interested in Cabbage Patch Kids and stickers and unicorns and not love stories. I’m not sure. But since I was Southern girl, by God, my mom was going to force me to learn what to look for in a man. Which is apparently Rhett Butler, even though he could be a real prick at times and probably took some liberties with Scarlett that he shouldn’t have. Not that she wasn’t a lying bitch and acted just awful and probably if I knew her, I might punch her in her box.
But anyway, that’s not the point and I’m getting way off topic here. The point I’m trying to make is, Southern Gentlemen? Not that easy to find and/or recognize. I work in an industry largely dominated by men. This is cool with me. I generally like men. My husband is pretty fun. My son? Hysterical. I find it easier to be friends with men, usually. Probably because I tell great fart jokes and I’m not offended if someone tells me my turkeys are done. And also I’m happily married so there isn’t a big bunch of tension because I don’t care if they think I’m cute or not and they all go home to their wives at the end of the day.
Oh and I decided we should put a Slip-n-Slide at top of the hill where my building is so we can slide down to the bottom of the hill where their building is, so they think I’m the bomb. So I don’t have problems with men I know, usually.
But a lot of men here? What the damn hell?
I’m friendly and nice to everyone and apparently a number of people around here are so socially idiotic they are unable to even be friendly or nice. I say, “How are you doing?” and they just look at me and don’t respond. I mean, clearly it’s not everyday that someone with breasts bothers to speak to them. This much is obvious.
But for God’s sake, do you have to ignore me? You can’t say hello? You can’t do anything but gape at me like a slack-jawed yokel?
 See the red one, that's the bastard right there.
He then had the nerve to wave at me as I drove back around, dejectedly, looking for an empty space.
Long gone are the days that men would hold the doors open for ladies. Some of the men here let the door slam right in your face. Those doors are heavy.
 For you, my liege.
Long gone are the days that men would, I don’t know, put their coat down so women wouldn’t have to step in a puddle or some crap.
Still here, sadly, are the days that men think that women can only make coffee or copies. Still here are the days that I get paid 1/2 of what my co-worker gets paid just because he has a dick. And sadly, the days are still here that someone can complain about having to have training about embryo and fetus protection because, “We aren’t hiring a bunch of women. We’re hiring workers.”
And you know most of them I think would be jerks even if they were women. Because some people? Are just jerks. I don’t know. But I don’t think their mommas would be proud of them for this nonsense.
Frankly I don’t give a damn if you act like Rhett Butler, but you could at least say hello in the morning. |
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That Chick
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