Rule 19
Thou shall never buy a car in the colours of brown, pink, lime, green, orange or sky blue.
Rule 20
When stumbling upon other blokes watching a sporting event, you may ask the score of the game in progress, but you may never ask whose playing.
I heard the above comment made the other day and thought it needed expanding on (especially as I, for once, wasn’t the protagonist of such an observation; but intend to take full advantage of it!)
I mean really, what do babies have to cry about? They have no financial concerns; no regrets about past mistakes, no deadlines to meet. Their every need is taken care of without having to move. They are fed, bathed, dressed without having to worry about what to prepare for dinner; will I use too much hot water and inconvenience everyone else in the household?Someone will select their clothing to ensure that they look their best without them having to make a single decision as to colour, style etc.. To top it all off, anyone that sees them will stop what they are doing and openly gush adoration at how beautiful they are. Even when they piss or crap their pants, nothing derogatory is uttered; they are changed, cleaned and pampered – all from the comfort of their own bed. All of this will never reoccur in their lifetime to the same degree; well maybe the crapping and pissing in one’s bed might, but hopefully by then one doesn’t realise it!
Are they crying because they secretly know that this is as good as life is ever going to get ,and, that within a few short months the adoration of their personal slaves will begin to recede and they will be expected to begin performing mundane tasks, like feeding, themselves?
I have been told in the past that I can sometimes be a little immature (I’m a male so it was expected!); If being immature means I can be treated like a king, adored by all where ever I go, have unpaid servants dedicated to my every desire – then hell yes! Treat me like the baby I deserve to be!
Women who claim they “love to watch sports” may only be accepted into the group after demonstrating a suitable level of knowledge of the game and the ability to drink as much as the other sports watchers.
The morning after you and a girl, who was formerly “just a friend”, have carnal drunken monkey sex, the fact that you’re feeling weird and guilty is no reason not to indulge in sex again before entering the discussion about what a big mistake it was.
Rule 15
Phrases that may not be uttered to another man while lifting weights:
a)Yeah, Baby, Push it!
b) C’mon, give me one more! Harder!
c) Another set and we can hit the showers!
Rule 16
Never talk to a man in a bathroom unless you are on equal footing: Both urinating, both waiting in line, etc. For all other situations, an almost imperceptible nod is all the communication needed.
Never join your girlfriend or wife in discussing a mate of yours, except if she’s withholding sex pending your response.
The ‘idiot’ I often travel with is one of my other personalities that seem to appear at the most inopportune time to make me do things such as getting horribly drunk, or, saying and doing things without thinking first etc. (Come on, you’ve all experienced this, the only difference is I’ve decided it’s not really me but another entity that hides away somewhere in my head.)
The ‘idiot’ usually enters my travels in the form of some of the replies I’ve given to questions I’ve deemed to be stupid at the time of asking. One such case occurred recently at an Australian Customs Arrival’s desk. The officer checking my passport asked if I had anything to declare. A simple question asked throughout the world but one that when you think about it is really quite stupid; Instead of the usual, “No. Nothing, sir” response, I found myself unable to resist retorting, “Apart from the kilo of coke and the automatic weapon? No nothing to declare.”
The customs officer glared at me and ordered me to repeat what I’d just said. I explained to him what a stupid question that was as did he really think that if I was trying to smuggle something into his country I would actually just tell him, simply because he asked?
He closely examined my passport for several minutes and then raising his head said, “You’re a New Zealander?”
“It’s what it says on my passport.” I replied rather glibly.
“In that case I’ll talk slowly.” He smirked.
“You take your time mate,” I smilingly replied. “I know how hard it is for you Australians to string multiple syllable words together.”
The next few hours seemed to take days to get through. All my baggage was thoroughly searched, x-rayed, swabbed for drugs and who knows what else. Thankfully they stopped short of getting the rubber gloves out. First impression you’ll likely have; Australian’s don’t really possess any sort of humour and are not programmed to think outside of their training manuals.
In comparison, when I landed, safe and unmolested, back home in NZ, I wondered what a visitor to my homeland with a sense of humour may encounter. (Yes, it was a four hour flight and you think I would have learnt something from my recent experience. Blame the ‘idiot’; I did).
The first thing I noticed was that the drug dogs roaming the airport seeking out illicit materials were the extremely menacing Beagle variety. Secondly, most of the security was smiling and saying ‘hello’ to passersby. When it came my turn to hand my passport over to the Customs Officer, you guessed it, I repeated the same answer to the standard questioning that I’d used on the Australian Customs Officer. This time however, the officer stared at me for a moment. Smiled and said, “I’ll just get you a menu and wine list”.
It was now my time to appear somewhat confused.
“Considering what we’re about to do to you, the least we could do is give you a meal and a drink.” He replied to my silent question conveyed through the obviously puzzled look on my face.
I couldn’t resist laughing out loud knowing that I’d returned to a place where my humour wasn’t out of the ordinary. He did however do a quick search of my bags just to make sure, but it was over pretty quickly.
First impressions I think people will get of my homeland; while we take tasks seriously, it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy what you do and have a laugh every now and then. Even if you are quite often travelling with an idiot!
…..is considered to be nothing more than blackmail.
Rule #5
No man shall ever be required to buy a birthday present for another man.
In fact, even remembering your mate’s birthday is strictly optional.
Rule #6
Moaning about the brand of free beer in a mate’s fridge is forbidden. Complain at will if the temperature is unsuitable.
Rule #7
It is permissible to sip on a fruity alcoholic drink only when you’re sunning on a tropical beach… and it’s delivered by a topless supermodel…and it’s free.
I realize this is not a question, but felt the need to include this topic. It is something that all women do and, it intrigues me immensely.
I am convinced that you (females) are all taught it at the secret training camps you attend while learning sleight of hand to hide that jar of jam in the pantry we males can never find, along with many other ‘secret women’s things” we may never find out about (or realize you do!)
“The look”, as I refer to it is not the sole domain of the female. I have seen men utilize it but only in limited situations such as “I’m about to hurt you”, and only generally used amongst males friends “Now would be a good time to shut the hell up before he hurts you”.
We are mere amateurs in comparison to the female’s expertise with “The Look”; the really intriguing part is how varied and complex each particular look can be, and how it can convey quite in-depth messages I have listed below some, but by no means all, of the explanations (discovered after they were given) that I have experienced firsthand to show how complex the art of the look can be;
Even at an early age we males actually do understand the hidden meaning of “The Look”. I recall an event when one of our sons was about ten years old. We were having a family dinner, with grandparents in attendance. Our son had a penchant for chocolate biscuits at the time and was constantly sneaking them off the plate and into his mouth. I had told him to stop as there were other people who may want one. His grandfather had done the same but to no avail. My wife simply said his name to get his attention and gave him “a look”. His reaction to this; he apologized and replaced the biscuit he had just snatched from the now nearly empty plate. When asked why he had chosen to ignore the elder males in the family telling him to stop and why, when his mother only had to look at him, his reply summed it up perfectly – “she scares me when she does that look thing”. To me, this demonstrated the sheer, terrifying power all females have when they can convey their silent message to a ten year old boy.
The only conclusion I came up with to this happening to such a young male is that we males have a genetic in-built survival mechanism that when confronted with “the look”, kicks into high gear.
Just another example of how we males may not be the dominant species we once thought.
As an afterthought, it just struck me that you women often say we don’t understand what you’re feeling but when delivered with The Look we manage to come to the right conclusion pretty quickly! Maybe there is hope for us!
