Subject: | |
From: | |
Reply To: | If it ain't a pleasure ... it ain't a poem. |
Date: | Sun, 28 Apr 2002 14:31:48 EDT |
Content-Type: | text/plain |
Parts/Attachments: |
|
|
Dope that I am, I figured out years ago that there must be someplace where
wimmen learned to be the way they are, but it didn't occur to me that it's
the ladies' room. On the rare occasion when I found an unguarded copy of
Cosmo, I thought I had at last found the owner's manual, but that didn't work
either.
Another reason why working on buildings is better. Who could possibly be a
shrink and try to figure out anything as messy as a human? Talk about
banging your head against a wall.
As for asshole school for us menfolk, it's not necessary. All we have to do
is be ourselves, whether we're just stupid, or stupid and nasty, the
adjectives may change, but the noun remains the same.
Which reminds me, it occurred to me yesterday that there's going to be a
major drawback to being dead: I won't be able to go to my own garage sale.
Mr. Sensitive Rides Again
--
To terminate puerile preservation prattling among pals and the
uncoffee-ed, or to change your settings, go to:
<http://maelstrom.stjohns.edu/archives/bullamanka-pinheads.html>
|
|
|