Tongue-In-Cheek … Foot-In-Mouth

It amazes me how two creatures from the SAME species can be so DIFFERENT.  For example, all men have the genetic requirement to click the TV clicker using a speed which can only be captured by slow-motion photograph.  And in sharp contrast, women own breasts.  Breasts are a topic of GREAT interest to men which starts the moment we are born and lasts until approximately thirty seven years after we are dead.   And if you were to ask any red-blooded man about our fascination with the female frontal form he’d place the blame squarely on the shoulders of the birds and the bees, saying “it is one of Mother Nature’s ways of attracting men to woman for the procreation of the species, and it has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that we men are perverts.”

Further evidenced of our differences is that your standard woman hears and remembers everything, whereby your standard man, according to your standard woman, has “selective memories” and “hears what he wants to hear.”  Admittedly, the ladies are totally correct here, but don’t tell them I said that.  Shssssshhhh.   Hey, look, there is ONLY so many things that can be held in a man’s brain, and when we hit full cranial capacity something’s going to leak out, like everything a woman says to a man while said man is deeply involved in watching the Super Bowl, especially if there are any New England Patriot’s cheerleaders performing fancy maneuvers featuring lots of jumping up and down and the resulting violent jiggling of their pompoms.

Okay, so, much like a man’s selective mental and hearing capabilities, men also posses selective visual abilities.  For example, a man will NOT be able to detect dirt on the carpet until the day he walks into the living room and find a migrant farmer riding a heavy piece of farm equipment near the sofa.  BUT a man can see a pair of boobs from incredible distances, sometimes through walls.  And this is because men are naturally equipped with factory installed “hooter radar detection equipment” known in male circles as “hoo-dar.”  Hoo-dar allows a man to spot hooters, and once spotted, hoodar makes it pretty much impossible for a man to stop looking at said hooters no matter what else is going on in the immediate area, to include lava flows.

Having this type of radar rolling around unsupervised in a man’s brain you would think would be nothing but an asset, and it is, trust me; however, it can sometimes lead to serious male injury, and I’m not only talking about when a man’s wife finds him “noticing” the next door neighbor sunbathing on her deck with her “bounty” both out and about, and his wife walks up behind him and begins cracking a rolling pin over his head until his head is flattened sufficiently enough so that both eyeballs are now on the same side of his head and he resembles a flounder.

Sure this smarts a bit.  But I’m not talking about that kind of pain; I’m talking about real pain; I’m talking about when a trainee male (e.g., freshman on college break) goes to a topless beach for the very first time and sees teeming packs of topless women frolicking in the surf, playing volleyball, or simply lying on towels, and his mouth will open wide enough to force his bottom jaw to detach from his upper jaw, fall onto the ground, and it will have to be glued back on by his drunken buddies who are way too busy looking at the girls to pay the necessary attention required to perform delicate reconstructive facial surgery, and they wind up permanently bonding his lower jaw to his ankle.
Other injuries associated with “exposed female accessories” have been linked to men abruptly deciding to plop themselves down in the middle of a topless beach and exist by eating sand.  But there are seasoned female form watching veterans out there who have seen their fair share of sunbathing a-la-natural women, and as a result, these men are far better equipped to nonchalantly view women’s assets without bringing national attention down on themselves in the form of blood hounds and wanted posters.  And these men do this by using the following four-point female form watching formal:

1.  Two veterans are walking down a beach.  One notices a topless sunbather.

2. He comes to an immediate dead nonchalant stop and begins casually jerking his head first towards the sunbather and then snapping it back towards his friend, and then jerking it back towards the sunbather, and then snapping it back towards his friend.  He continues this until his head is attached to his shoulders by one remaining strand of neck muscle.

3. The other veteran immediately realizes that the apparent seizure his friend was having was NOT a seizure, but a male non-verbal visual code for “ALERT!  HOOTERS AT TEN AND ELEVEN O’CLOCK!”

4. This is when both veterans drop to the ground and start snacking on sand.
But my point here, ladies, is that we men are far more juvenile than you could have ever possibly imagined.  And although your husbands adamantly agree with every single syllable in this column, they will never admit it to you; they will agree with you that I am obnoxious, raunchy, and full of bathroom humor, because they do not want to wind up owning a head shaped like a halibut. 

However, men’s enthusiasm for hooters is NOT our fault; we’re at the mercy of our factory installed hoo-dar placed there by Mother Nature.  And it’s not like we can just unplug the thing, because after all, just like those margarine commercials from the 1970’s stated: “it’s not nice to fool with Mother Nature.”

Copyright © 2008 Bill Drury.  All Rights Reserved.

Bill Drury is a humor columnist for The Carriage Towne News.  Contact him via snail mail c/o The Carriage Towne News, P.O. Box 100, Kingston, NH 03848, or email him @ Drury1234@Verizon.Net, or to go his website @ www.billedrury.com.