UNDERSTANDING WOMEN
(A MAN’S PERSPECTIVE)
I know I’m not going to understand women.
I’ll never understand how you can take boiling hot wax,
pour it onto your upper thigh, rip the hair out by the root,
and still be afraid of a spider.
(A MAN’S PERSPECTIVE)
I know I’m not going to understand women.
I’ll never understand how you can take boiling hot wax,
pour it onto your upper thigh, rip the hair out by the root,
and still be afraid of a spider.


Meet Marvin, Men’s answer to Maxine!!!
Men strike back!
How many men does it take to open a beer?
None. It should be opened when she brings it.
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Why is a Laundromat a really bad place to pick up a woman?
Because a woman who can’t even afford a washing machine will probably never be able to support you.
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Why do women have smaller feet than men?
It’s one of those ‘evolutionary things’ that allows them to stand closer to the kitchen sink.
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How do you know when a woman is about to say something smart?
When she starts a sentence with ‘A man once told me….’
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How do you fix a woman’s watch?
You don’t. There is a clock on the oven.
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If your dog is barking at the back door and your wife is yelling at the front door, who do you let in first?
The dog, of course. He’ll shut up once you let him in.
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Scientists have discovered a food that diminishes a woman’s sex drive by 90%.
It’s called a Wedding Cake.
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Why do men die before their wives?
They want to.
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Women will never be equal to men until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut, and still think they are sexy.
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AND MAXINE SAYS…………’MARVIN’…
Maxine just had to have the last word.
A somewhat emancipated (pain in the neck) female journalist visits Kabul after the fall of the Taliban and is not pleased to find that women must walk 5 paces behind the men.
A year later she returns and is delighted to find that men now walk 5 paces behind the women.
She asked the interpreter “This is much better. What brought about this change?”
He replied “Land mines”.
An old country farmer had a wife who nagged him unmercifully. From morning till night she was always complaining about something.
The only time he got any relief was when he was out plowing with his old mule. He tried to plow a lot. One day, when he was out plowing, his wife brought him lunch in the field. He drove the old mule into the shade, sat down on a stump, and began to eat his lunch. Immediately, his wife began nagging him again. Complain, nag, complain, nag – it just went on and on. All of a sudden, the old mule lashed out with both hind feet, caught her smack in the back of the head.
Killed her dead on the spot.
At the funeral several days later, the minister noticed something rather odd. When a woman mourner would approach the old farmer, he would listen for a minute, then nod his head in agreement; but when a man mourner approached him, he would listen for a minute, then shake his head in disagreement..
This was so consistent, the minister decided to ask the old farmer about it. So after the funeral, the minister spoke to the old farmer, and asked him why he nodded his head and agreed with the women, but always shook his head and disagreed with all the men.
The old farmer said, ‘Well, the women would come up and say something about how nice my wife looked, or how pretty her dress was, so I’d nod my head in agreement.’
‘And what about the men?’ the minister asked.
‘They wanted to know if the mule was for sale.’
Dear Santa:
I rarely ask for much. This year is no exception. I don’t need diamond earrings, handy slicer-dicers or comfy slippers. I only want one little thing, and I want it deeply.
Christmas Present
I want to slap Martha Stewart.
Now, hear me out, Santa. I won’t scar her or draw blood or anything. Just one good smack, right across her smug little cheek. I get all cozy inside just thinking about it. Don’t grant this wish just for me, do it for thousands of women across the country. Through sheer vicarious satisfaction, you’ll be giving a gift to us all. Those of us leading average, garden variety lives aren’t concerned with gracious living.
We feel pretty good about ourselves if our paper plates match when we stack them on the counter, buffet-style for dinner. We’re tired of Martha showing us how to make centerpieces from hollyhock dipped in 18-carat gold. We’re plumb out of liquid gold. Unless it’s of the furniture polish variety. We can’t whip up Martha’s creamy holiday sauce, spiced with turmeric. Most of us can’t even say turmeric, let alone figure out what to do with it.
OK, Santa, maybe you think I’m being a little harsh. But I’ll bet with all the holiday rush you didn’t catch that interview with Martha in last week’s USA Weekend. I’m surprised there was enough room on the page for her ego.
We discovered that not only does Martha avoid take-out pizza (she’s only ordered it once), she refuses to eat it cold (No cold pizza? Is Martha Stewart living?) When it was pointed out that she could microwave it, she replied, “I don’t have a microwave.”
The reporter, Jeffrey Zaslow, noted that she said this “in a tone that suggests you shouldn’t either.”
Well, lah-dee-dah. Imagine that, Santa!
That lovely microwave you brought me years ago, in which I’ve learned to make complicated dishes like popcorn and hot chocolate, has been declared undesirable by Queen Martha. What next? The coffee maker?
In the article, we learned that Martha has 40 sets of dishes adorning an entire wall in her home. Forty sets. Can you spell “overkill”? And neatly put away, no less. If my dishes make it to the dishwasher that qualifies as “put away” in my house!
Martha tells us she’s already making homemade holiday gifts for friends. “Last year, I made amazing silk-lined scarves for everyone,” she boasts. Not just scarves mind you. Amazing scarves. Martha’s obviously not shy about giving herself a little pat on the back. In fact, she does so with such frequency that one has to wonder if her back is black and blue.
She goes on to tell us that “homemaking is glamour for the 90s,” and says her most glamorous friends are “interested in stain removal, how to iron a monogram, and how to fold a towel.” I have one piece of advice, Martha: “Get new friends.”
Glamorous friends fly to Paris on a whim. They drift past the Greek Islands on yachts, sipping champagne from crystal goblets. They step out for the evening in shimmering satin gowns, whisked away by tuxedoed chauffeurs. They do not spend their days pondering the finer art of toilet bowl sanitation. Zaslow notes that Martha was named one of America’s 25 most influential people by Time magazine (nosing out Mother Theresa, Madeline Allbright and Maya Angelou, no doubt).
The proof of Martha’s influence: after she bought white-fleshed peaches in the supermarket, Martha says, “People saw me buy them. In an instant, they were all gone.” I hope Martha never decides to jump off a bridge.
A guest in Martha’s home told Zaslow how Martha gets up early to rollerblade with her dogs to pick fresh wild blackberries for breakfast.
This confirms what I’ve suspected about Martha all along: She’s obviously got too much time on her hands. Teaching the dogs to rollerblade. What a show off.
If you think the dogs are spoiled, listen to how Martha treats her friends: She gave one friend all 272 books from the Knopf Everyman Library. It didn’t cost much. Pocket change, really. Just $5,000. But what price friendship, right?
When asked if others should envy her, Martha replies, “Don’t envy me. I’m doing this because I’m a natural teacher. You shouldn’t envy teachers. You should listen to them.” Zaslow must have slit a seam in Martha’s ego at this point, because once the hot air came hissing out, it couldn’t be held back. “Being an overachiever is nothing despicable. It is only admirable. Never lower your standards,” says Martha.
And of her Web Page on the Internet, Martha declares herself an “important presence” as she graciously helps people organize their sad, tacky little lives. There you have it, Santa. If there was ever someone who deserved a good smack, it’s Martha Stewart. But I bet I won’t get my gift this year.
You probably want to smack her yourself.
Three women are about to be executed. One’’s a brunette, one’’s a redhead, and one’’s a blonde.
The guard brings the brunette forward and the executioner asks if she has any last requests. She says no, and the executioner shouts, “Ready! Aim!” Suddenly the brunette yells, “EARTHQUAKE!!!”
Everyone is startled and throws themselves on the ground while she escapes.
The guard brings the redhead forward and the executioner asks if she has any last requests. She say no, and the executioner shouts, “Ready! Aim!” Suddenly the redhead yells, “TORNADO!!!”
Everyone is startled and looks around for cover while she escapes.
By now the blonde has it all figured out. The guard brings her forward and the executioner asks if she has any last requests. She says no, and the executioner shouts, “Ready! Aim!” And the blonde yells, “FIRE!!!”
Police are warning all men who frequent clubs, parties & local pubs to be alert and stay cautious when offered a drink from any woman.
Many females use a date rape drug on the market called “Beer”.
The drug is found in liquid form and is available anywhere. It comes in bottles, cans, or from taps and in large “kegs”. Beer is used by female sexual predators at parties and bars to persuade their male victims to go home and sleep with them. A woman needs only to get a guy to consume a few units of Beer and then simply ask him home for no strings attached sex.
Men are rendered helpless against this approach. After several beers, men will ofte n succumb to the desires to sleep with horrific looking women whom they would never normally be attracted.
After drinking beer, men often awaken with only hazy memories of exactly what happened to them the night before, often with just a vague feeling that “something bad” occurred.
At other times these unfortunate men are swindled out of their life’s savings, in a familiar scam known as “a relationship”. In extreme cases, the female may even be shrewd enough to entrap the unsuspecting male into a longer term form of servitude and punishment referred to as “marriage.” Men are much more susceptible to this scam after beer is administered and sex is offered by the predatory females.
Please! Forward this warning to every male you know.
If you fall victim to this “Beer” scam and the women administering it, there are male support groups where you can discuss the details of your shocking encounter with similarly victimized men.
For the support group nearest you, just look up “Golf Courses” in the phone book.
For a video to see how beer works click here: Beer Demo
Contributed by: Andy Smith