Every now and then, I am reminded in no uncertain terms that a womans place is over the stove, with impeccably coiffed hair, red lippie, a strand of pearls and smile from ear to ear. Every now and then, I refute this belief with a well placed “Get f*cked.”
It seems that being in ownership of a taco means you have to be subservient, seen but not heard, submissive, quiet, charming and a dab hand at ironing. I am none of these.
“A womans place is in the kitchen!”
Not unless it’s your head in the pot and I’m systematically placing pieces of you down the garbage disposal.
“You are a woman, you can’t play poker.”
I see your asshat attitude, and raise you with my “Then why did I just bust you out?”
“You should be at home, cooking Daniel dinner.”
Why do that when he cooks better than me anyway?
“Tch, young women these days. I wouldn’t have let you leave the house if you were my wife.”
That’s probably why your wife left you.
Apparently, The ownership of the needed items to pull off a camel toe makes for a baby-oven with not much else to live for, other than to spit shine her husbands shoes and massage his poor, tired feet. Look, I’m sorry, men of the world, but I have smelt Daniel’s feet after work, and I’m going no where near that shiz.
We live in a world where the men are still, to some degree, classed as an “upper” being, and women are still at home, doing the happy-i-want-to-shoot-myself-but-heres-a-five-course-dinner thing. If there are women out there like this, I salute you. But please do not assume that just because there are women out there who aren’t slaves to the hubby’s whims, we don’t love them just as much.
I worked with a bloke once, he ate curry and was a strict vegetarian. I was his superior in the workplace, and it didn’t go down too well.
“Can you count? You are a woman.”
No, I did 15 years of schooling, and never picked up the skill. Freaky, huh?
“Tch Tch Tch, my wife would never dream of speaking like that – she will be lady like.”
Bullshiiiit! Your wife doesn’t say the eff word? Bloody hell! Ya shitting me? She’ll be lady like? Man, I bet Dan wishes he could find one of those.
The day he asked me if I was allowed to speak to men, because it should be against my husbands wishes, I was blown away. Apparently, it was also un-lady like to speak to men whom I had known my entire life and got excited when they walked through the door. Needless to say, the sound of “Tch Tch Tch” had me ready to make him pee all lady like.
I own a bajingo and I’m about as lady like as a T-rex who can’t scratch his balls. I can’t cook anything above mac and cheese. I can’t do hospital corners on a bed.
You know what? I’m pretty sure I’m a man.