Have you read that book Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus? You haven’t? Well, to tell you the truth, I haven’t either, but my wife Janet has. You men out there listen up. Go out and buy your wife that book. Why? Well, I’ll tell you why. That book is an excuse for every idiotic thing you’ve ever done. Right after Janet read that book, she’d make comments like; “Oh, I know why you did that. It’s in the book.” Then she’d smile at me like I was a little kid or something, pat me on the head, and then leave me the heck alone. I don’t know if it was a man or woman that wrote that book, but they ought to have won the Pulitzer Prize.
Now I’m pretty sure the book tells stuff on women, too, but I’ve already got them pretty well figured out. If I wrote that book on the subject of men and women, it would be titled; Men are Rifles, Women are Shotguns. I’ll explain further.
I remember one night several years ago, my daughter Michelle called. As she spoke to me, it was clear that she wasn’t just sittin’ in a chair carrying on a conversation with her daddy. I could tell she was doin’ somethin’ else.
“I’m taking the clothes out of the dryer?”
“Where’s my grandson, Grady?”
“I’m holding him,” she replied.
Now, she was doin’ all of this while holdin’ a phone between her ear and her shoulder. That’s because women can do a whole bunch of stuff at the same time. Now-a-days they call it multi-taskin’. I call it shotgunnin’. You know, a shotgun is a scatter-shooter. You point it and pull the trigger, and shot goes off in all directions. Women are shotguns. Heck, I’ve seen Janet talkin’ on the telephone, stirrin’ chili with one hand, washin’ dishes with the other, all the while usin’ her foot and a towel moppin’ somethin’ that had spilled.
Men, on the other hand are rifles. With a rifle, you carefully aim at your intended target, take a deep breath, let out half of it, and slowly squeeze the trigger. The bullet leaves the barrel, travelin’ its intended path, strikin’ the target. One shot, one kill. If you turn a man into a shotgun, all heck will break loose. What you get is a bunch of stuff that never gets done.
Wives, listen up. If you give your husband a list of stuff that you want done, he looks at the list and this is what happens. His eyes glaze over, he starts breathin’ heavy, and the next thing you know, he’s gone huntin’, fishin’ or, golfin’ or in my case, hidin’. Y’all just don’t understand. Our little ol’ minds can’t comprehend more than one thing at a time.
Now, Janet understands this. Well, to a point. She has a list of stuff she wants me to do, but I never see it. She keeps it hid somewhere, and if I ever find it, it will be destroyed, believe me. But, she doesn’t tell me everything that’s on that list. I get them one at a time. And she doesn’t tell me to do them. Men don’t like to be told what to do. I know I don’t. But if you ask me to do somethin’, well, I’ll bend over backward to do whatever I’m asked.
I’ve heard women threaten their husbands. “You better do this, or I’ll do so and so.” I don’t know about other men, but if you threaten me, I’ll bow up on you. I am not motivated by fear.
Anywho, back to Janet’s list. Like I said, she brings them out one at a time after, and only after, I finish the previous one. If she brings out two at the same time or even another one before I’m finished with the first, I go glassy eyed. I’ve got to kill the first one first and then go after the next. You don’t point in amongst a bunch of quail and pull the trigger. Even though you’ve got a lot of shot leavin’ the barrel, if you aren’t trained on one bird, you’re not goin’ to get anything. I know, I said men were rifles, but a man knows that there’s just one target at a time, even with a shotgun.
Oh yeah, and when I’m finished with a project, Janet brags on me, and tells me how good a job I’ve done. I know she’s just butterin’ me up for the next project, but who cares, I’m easy.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I wish I could do a bunch of things at one time, but I can’t. And I’m pretty sure there are some men out there that can, but I probably wouldn’t hang out with them. They’d drive me crazy.
So ladies, here it is in a nut shell. Remember, we aren’t that smart. If you want things done, ask us to do them, but only one task at a time. Then, reward us. The bigger the reward, the less likely, you’ll have to do the next task yourself. Plus, the rewards can be fun for you, too. Heh, heh.