Wordsole

I wish it wasn’t so easy to find total crap masquerading as advice. Hat tip to Jimmy for sending me this. As per the usue, my response to the article is in italics. The original can be found here:

http://lifestyle.msn.com/relationships/articlemh.aspx?cp-documentid=22451147&GT1=32023

Seven Things She Hates About You
Starring Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles. Wait. Sorry. Wrong movie.

Guys, do you have no idea why the lady in your life is so steamed? Well, thanks to us, now you do. Here’s a list of seven things you do that will almost always tick her off.
By Lisa Jones, “Men’s Health”

The woman in the picture super glued her hand to her forward. And won’t tell her boyfriend about it, because he should just know.

The biggest fight in my relationship has been replayed more times than I care to admit. It usually happens something like this: First, after 3 or 4 hours of silent abuse by me, my boyfriend starts to suspect something’s up.

She actually calls it silent abuse. I’m fairly certain I’ve seen a Lifetime movie with that title.

“I know you’re annoyed,” he says. “What did I do?”
“You didn’t do anything,” I say. “It’s fine, whatever. I’m not annoyed.”

So, we should trust this woman for advice even though she is a giant liar? Excellent.

“Just tell me.”
This goes on for hours until I finally blurt it out: “You didn’t introduce me when we ran into that guy you work with! And why do you need to go out to brunch with your ex?” Then I feel silly for letting such small things bother me, and we laugh and roll around on the couch and all is right again in our world.

Her boyfriend is either a saint or hoping to marry her for a green card, because she sounds obnoxious.

But he raises a good point: Most of the time he has no idea of what sets me off. Which is why I’ve prepared this handy inventory of things men tend to do that we tend to find annoying. If you study up, you’ll be able to stop repelling the women you want to meet — or aggravating the one you have. And we women can continue not telling you why we’re mad, because we’ll figure, “Hey, he should know already!” Besides, who said this would be fair?

I think she huffed some paint thinner before writing this.

Annoyance #1: You don’t pick up after yourself at our place.
Actually, we really don’t mind if you’re a little messy. An empty beer bottle here or dirty T-shirt there — no problem. But when we start seeing pieces of you (literally) all over the place, we tend to go off. Like when we find toenail clippings on the nightstand or a pile of chewed-out sunflower-seed shells on the counter. Please clean that up before we see it and want to gag. And then we’ll promise to be better about leaving globs of our hair in your shower drain. Do we have a deal?

She admits that she is not a neat, little princess but still berates her dude for daring to sometimes be messy? Try this. “Hey baby, stop leaving various bodily effluvia around the apartment. It’s gross.” Done.

Annoyance #2: You focus on what we spend, but not what you spend
You ask how much our new haircut or handbag costs … yet conveniently don’t mention your sportsbook.com account or the $200 you lost on the NCAA parlay. Until we’re sharing a bank account with you, we’re not all that interested in your opinions on how we should or should not spend our money. And if we are sharing a bank account, here’s something you should know: Reminding us when we’re in the throes of post-retail bliss that we just blew all our disposable income for the month is not going to endear you to us. The perfect boyfriend response: “Wow, [fierce/sexy/hot] new [haircut/handbag/lingerie item]. I guess dinner is on me tonight!” Then wait a few days to bring up your financial concerns, by proposing we both start saving for something we want to buy together.

I have never had a boyfriend or friend, for that matter, ask me how much something cost unless he or she was interested in getting one for him/herself. Partly because it’s rude. And partly because most people don’t care. And if you are sharing a bank account with your boyfriend or spouse, and you dump all the extra cash for the month into a new pair of shoes (because, of course, you are a chick, and chicks love shoes. Especially expensive ones.) your dude is not obligated to compliment you on them. He is, in fact, allowed to be mad. As mad as you would be if he spent all the cash on a new t.v. without talking to you about it. (I used the example of t.v., because men are genetically programmed to like electronics even more than they like food or boobies.)

Annoyance #3: You talk to us as if we’re one of the guys
If you have any romantic inclinations toward us, please don’t call us by our last name. Otherwise we’ll assume we’ve already been relegated to buddy status and start thinking of you that way, too. Also, you’ll rarely find us holding entire conversations in Simpsons and Old School quotes. Similarly, we don’t talk in numbers the same way men tend to. We’re happy to see evidence of your improvements at the gym, but we really don’t need to know how much you can bench-press. We also couldn’t care less about your day rate, the price of your car, or the number of beers you once shotgunned in college. And fantasy-league anything will make us flirt hard with the waiter. No, the conversation doesn’t have to be all about us, but we do want you to shoot for topics of mutual interest.

My boyfriend, male friends, and brothers could not be less like the man described above. And they’re smart, cool guys who like to talk about a myriad of things. For the record, I don’t think cars, weight lifting or fantasy football aren’t worthy of conversation. I just happen to know women who enjoy conversations on those subjects and men who don’t, and I’m not inclined to paint anything with the broad brush of bro-only subject.

Oh, and excuse me, but topics of mutual interest, Lisa? I’m assuming that your boyfriend has to converse with you about sounding like a douche through stereotyping and writing articles that show the most rudimentary and egregiously stupid understanding of the opposite sex. Scintillating. I have been known to have an entire conversation in Monty Python and Best in Show quotes. No, really. Even with my lack of a Y chromosome.

Annoyance #4: You speak of the future vaguely
Men seem to have perfected a special way of talking about the future that makes it unclear whether we’re a part of it or not. Or maybe you don’t know you’re doing this? For instance, you frequently mention your buddy’s wedding in another state 6 months from now and you haven’t asked us to go with you. Or you have a month-long international business trip coming up but haven’t asked us whether we’d like to come for a weekend visit. If you picture us in your future, try talking about these things in such a way that we’ll stick around for it.

I wonder if Lisa has realized that the problem isn’t that men don’t ever talk about the future, it’s that men who date her don’t ever talk about the future. Because she’s an asshole.

Annoyance #5: You stop trying
You have us as your wife or girlfriend. We’re committed to the situation, and all is good. But pretty soon you stop trying to impress us — and we don’t like that. “Now that we’re married, he never tries to ‘win me’ anymore,” says one friend. “If he wants to come on to me, he needs to ditch his gross dress socks and gym clothes and make an effort. Otherwise he ain’t getting any. Also, there is less foreplay and it’s more routine, which I hate. After seven years, a man’s got to bust some new moves.” Or at least bring back a few of the retired ones that used to work. Like simply bringing home a pizza, a bottle of wine, and some flowers when we’ve had a bad day. Bring back the woo. We want the woo!

Yay!!! I love it when a woman encourages other women to withhold sex to make a point. It’s not archaic or passive aggressive at all. Nope. Because women do not want sex for its own sake. No. They want romance. They want flowers. They want woo! So, gentlemen, bring back the woo. Don’t know what that means? Awww, looks like someone isn’t getting any nookie for awhile.

Annoyance #6: You turn down sex
When it so happens that we’re the one who wants sex and you’re the one who doesn’t, we find your refusal to be confusing and irritating. Reassure us that we’re attractive and that you love us, but that you just aren’t in the mood. It helps to throw out a hint at what’s going on — that you’re tired, depressed, anxious at work, whatever, says Aline Zoldbrod, Ph.D., a Boston-area psychologist. That way we won’t obsess or be too pouty or aggressive. If we happen to be fresh off a girls’ night out, tread extra carefully. “In the mood” can change to emotional, crying wreckage very quickly when your girl has a couple of glasses of Prosecco in her.

Men, can we talk? Here’s the thing. You are designed to want sex constantly. I mean, all the time. (Unlike women, who will withhold sex because you dare to wear the same socks two days in a row.) You are never tired or stressed or just in the mood to cuddle. I mean, come on! You don’t even know what cuddling is! You put up with all that kissing and intimacy crap for your lady. Otherwise, you’d be naked all the time. At home. At the gym. During board meetings. Naked and raring to go.

Annoyance #7: You ask us out via text
Texting is fast and easy and leads to sexy banter — but save it until after the first date. Calling a woman to ask her out is much more personal. It takes more effort, which is exactly what we find so sexy about your doing it. Okay, it’s an unfair burden for you, but it comes with an advantage: It makes you stand out from the mass of other men who text instead of calling.

If you dare to use technology in any way other than Cosmo intended to ask out a woman, you will prove yourself to be an insensitive ass who is unworthy of spending your life with a rude, childish, sex-withholding goddess.

“So many people are conditioned to communicate through text messages that to receive a phone call or even an e-mail feels like a generously romantic gesture,” says Kristina Grish, author of The Joy of Text: Mating, Dating, and Techno-Relating. Another thing: Don’t include us in any mass texts you bang off to half the female names in your address book at 10 p.m., expecting one of us to come rushing out to meet you for the night. “Women know when your ‘plans 2nite?’ texts are generic, and when they’re intended to specifically address them,” Grish says. “You have so few characters to make a succinct point, but tuck an inside joke or reference into the message to make it personal, sexy, and fun.”

Men, once again, gather round. Let me sum up that last paragraph. Don’t be a douche. Okay? Okay.

Explain to me again why you aren’t watching Modern Family?

Seriously, how gorgeous is he?

There is huge room for debate on this topic, but for my money, there is no cooler actor on the planet than Robert Guillaume. He starred in Benson and Soap. He voiced Rafiki in The Lion King and its subsequent sequels. He was the only black man to play the Phantom on Broadway and to this day, is the only black man to receive the Emmy for Outstanding Actor in a Comedy. Which is both a sad commentary on the lack of diversity on stage and television and a mark of his fantasticness.

Taking the above into account, Robert Guillaume is cool. But it was his role as Isaac Jaffee that elevates him above the fray (and The Fray. That band’s okay, I guess, but they’re not very cool.) Sports Night only ran two seasons (ABC should still be hanging its head in shame for that one), but RG took what could have been a standard boss role and made him the moral compass of the show. When he suffered a stroke during the first season, he not only came back to work, he had Aaron Sorkin write a storyline for Isaac that involved both the stroke and its subsequent recovery. And the chemistry he had with every single actor on the show be he or she main, supporting, or guest was impressive. For fun, look up an episode with him and William H. Macy. It’s like watching Picasso and Monet paint on the same canvas.

From one of his finest episodes, “The Six Southern Gentlemen of Tennessee.” It couldn’t have been easy to keep his big speech from becoming maudlin and After School Special-y. He nailed it. Shame on the Emmy voters for not even nominating him.

And just because, RG and Donna Summer singing “Bridge Over Troubled Water.”

Manicurist (she didn’t tell me her name): So, what are you going to do while you’re home?

Me: My family and I are spending time together. Just hanging out. We might rent a movie.

Manicurist: Have you seen The Proposal?

(Internal Monologue): Oh crap. I have seen The Proposal. And I thought it was ridiculous. Silly and forced and kinda sexist. Plus, Ryan Reynolds is supposed to be an over-worked assistant, but he obviously goes to the gym A LOT. Oh and way to waste Betty White. But she obviously liked it, and she’s holding a cuticle cutter right now…

Me: Uh huh.

Manicurist: Wasn’t it great?

Me: Oh, totally.

It’s not uncommon for copywriters to go through re-writes before landing on the perfect wording. I’ve obtained the original script for the Kay commercial below.

[Pan up on large house and happy couple. Outside, it's raining. Inside, it's lovin'.]

Man: I can’t believe this storm. And I’m a man. I know about the weather. All things science really.

[A lightening bolt gets close to the house and a loud clap of thunder causes the 'ittle woman to leap into his arms.]

Man: Could you watch the sweater? It’s Prada. Listen, I’ve been meaning to tell you. I slept with your sister. Also, here’s a necklace that symbolizes shackles.

Male Voiceover: We at Kay know that women don’t put out unless you give them sparkly things. So, this season, surprise her with an ugly necklace that guarantees she won’t dump you for cheating and may even get you some necklace-induced nookie. Pay no attention to the fact that it’s reminiscent of handcuffs.

Woman: I’m a lady, and this electrical storm has short-circuited the delicate wiring in my brain. Hold me so I don’t fall over.

Jingle: Every kiss begins with Kay…because women are shallow.

He is responsible for the only funny moments in the otherwise forgettable Ocean’s 12.

And he’s married to Monica Belluci.

I can’t think of a cooler actor.

Has anyone else ever thought that the love scene in Earth Girls Are Easy is the unholy child of Yanni, Enya, and Kenny G?

My brother Jay’s one-sentence review of The Proposal: She’s an asshole then he loves her.”

That about covers it.

Today’s moment of Zen brought to you by Donald’s son:

I like vampire movies. Vampire books. Vampire t.v. shows. I read Bram Stoker’s Dracula. I loved Buffy. I freaked out over Let the Right One In. I’m not a fan of Twilight, but Twilight has as much to do with actual vampire storytelling as Miley Cyrus has to do with musical acumen.

Color me surprised, but apparently I only like vampire stories because I’m a chick. (Remind me to tell every man I know who’s ever watched or enjoyed a vampire story that he’s doing it wrong. Being a man, that is.) John DeVore of The Frisky (doesn’t he just ooze credibility?) knows why. And he was good enough to explain. As always, my comments are italicized. Let’s begin.

Why women love vampires and men don’t

I am obviously going to agree with everything John says, because sweeping generalizations get me almost as hot as men with pointy teeth and an aversion to UV rays.

By John DeVore, The Frisky

When I try to explain my ardor for HBO’s trashy-fabulous soap opera “True Blood” to my dude friends, they either shrug and change the topic, or question whether I’ve been writing for ladyblogs for too long and am suffering from a form of Stockholm Syndrome.

Let me get this straight. Ladyblogs are the equivalent of a captor and Johnny boy is their hapless captive. That analogy makes Patty Hearst cry.

Dudes just don’t dig bloodsuckers, since vampires pretty much look like girls. We prefer zombies, because we love chainsaws, flamethrowers, and samurai swords.

I’m sorry? Vampires look like girls? Guess somebody forgot to tell him:

And because, on some level, we know that besides being vehicles for sperm, our other important, if lesser, genetic imperative is to defend our loved ones from hordes of unthinking, flesh-eating metaphors for current social anxieties.

Hahahaha. Vehicles for sperm. I know that when the time comes to pick a new car, I’ll be sure to ask the Honda dealer if the Civic comes with an optional sperm-holder. Seriously, this guy likes men even less than he likes women. Sperm vehicles and horde fighter-offers. That’s it, gents. That’s all you’re good for.

To most guys, vampires are the monster movie equivalent of that sensitive man-sponge in college who plays acoustic guitar in order to seduce chicks. They’re what you get when you cross your average Renaissance Fair enthusiast with a mosquito.

Oh come on now, John. Don’t be coy. You were that man-sponge.

And what’s with their greatest weaknesses being most kinds of Italian food, Sunday school, and the sun, which helps flowers grow? Really? Why women find date-rapey parasites who wear capes compelling must have something to do with deeply primal fears.

Date-rapey? Way to turn an actual fear that many women have into a shitty visual in your crappy article.

A vampire is a monster, who looks, acts, and talks like a man. Who is passionate, romantic, and tortured. To surrender to this character is to play with fire. The vampire, in many ways, is the prototype of the bad boy.

Ding, ding, ding! 10 points if you called the bad boy cliche before you even started reading this. Look, I know it’s totes fun to talk about women’s secretest desires as though we’re an estrogen monolith as easy to read as the back of a cereal box. But I can name many women who think the stereotypical bad boy sounds like a lot of work and just as many women who crave a guy on a Harley who has a tattoo for every woman he’s ever divested of her virginity. Because. Wait for it, peeps, I’m about to drop a truth bomb. Women are as varied in their tastes as men. And yes, men have varied tastes. That’s two truth bombs for the price of one.

Women love bad boys – they’re exciting, and the chance to change him, to break him like a horse, must be an irresistible challenge. If self-destruction weren’t seductive on some superficial level, then no one would ever need rehab.

I would insert another feminist zinger right here, but all I can muster is, dude’s a douche. Gigantic douche.

But I am like most guys in that I am a fan of zombie flicks. “28 Days Later” may possibly be my favorite movie ever. I’m also a fan of alien and robot movies, but more often than not, it seems women are more adept at dispatching those.

I have seen and enjoyed Shaun of the Dead, The Abyss, Independence Day, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, etc. And no one has asked me to surrender my second X chromosome. Shocking. (I’m not a fan of most zombie movies, because I’m not a fan of scary movies period. Which has little to do with my gender and mostly to do with the fact that I’m kind of a weenie.)

Zombie movies indulge male power-fulfillment fantasies. We enjoy pretending to be dragon-slaying knights or bad-guy-perforating cowboys or Bruce Willis, saving our ex-wife from a skyscraper full of terrorists.

I have never, ever dreamed of being a heroine. Beating up bad guys. Oooh or being able to fly and saving a bus full of children. Oooh, ooh! Or how about the one where I’m able to single-handedly take down a gun-wielding robber who’s threatening to shoot the convenience store clerk. Nope, never had any of those fantasies. Cause I’m a chick.

Before any feminist blood vessels burst, let me explain that this fantasy goes hand-in-hand with a male-specific fear that speaks to ancient genetic programming. That for all our swagger, testosterone, and machismo, we cannot protect those we love.

Phew! Thanks guy. You saved me from an aneurysm. But I’m gonna have to correct you on one thing. Men do not feel fear. They are programmed not to. They also never cry, do not bond with babies, and can’t enjoy the films of Sandra Bullock. Damn programming.

The disaster call for women and children to evacuate first isn’t chivalry, inasmuch as it’s evolutionarily smarts. The women and children will continue the species; the men are disposable. We fear being useless, especially once we have issued forth our baby-making essence.

I am telling you. This man hates men. Disposable? Hates them.

In “True Blood,” the vampire Bill has decided to change himself, to fight his ferocious nature. He struggles to be a better, um, corpse. He rejects the cold, bloodthirsty vampirism of his peers, and tries to embrace those human virtues he once had: selflessness, mercy, kindness, and justice. In some ways, he’s less a vampire and more a superhero.

Except he doesn’t wear a cape. Or tights. Which was really a mistake on wardrobe’s part.

Then he falls in love with someone he is told he shouldn’t. And his love for Sookie, a human woman, is a choice he has made, regardless of the scorn heaped upon him by the undead and the living alike.

I love that John, who is making the argument that men don’t like vampires, is such an obvious fanboy of the show. I’d lay odds he’s tried his hand at some Bill/Eric fanfic. Not that I’d blame him. Ahem:

He protects her, despite his fears that he is completely impotent, powerless to defend her from a world that despises them both. And she returns the favor, despite her fears that underneath sweet words and passion is an animal waiting to pounce. A little bit for men and women.

I guess even though undead, vampire men are still from Mars.

I watch “True Blood” because chicks will dig it when I can talk about Eric and Maryann and Action Stackhouse; it’s how I “open” a pick-up artist-style “set.” My knowledge of “True Blood” will help me convince turbo-hotties to come back to my sweet fourth-floor walk-up in Queens, where I will love them forever, or until I have to call the unemployment office at 10 a.m., whichever comes first.

Sigh. I just. I can’t. Turbo-hotties? I don’t even know what that means. Has John been meeting women who have mufflers coming out their butts, because, again, his imagery is just lost on me.

Sigh. Oh forget it. I love this show, without condition. I love that Alan Ball followed up his twee meditation on mortality, “Six Feet Under,” with a show that’s just about hot sexing and gratuitous gore. It’s a soft-core comic book, nothing more, nothing less.

Hey, don’t sigh. That’s my thing. And the soft-core comic book analysis is actually pretty good. Point to you. And point revoked, since I just realized that you assume that women like it despite it’s comic book feel. Because women hate zombies. Don’t dream of heroics. Won’t read comics. Use sex to get what they want. Are gigantic gold diggers. Break men. I may be inferring a few of those from your trenchant critique.

I fully accept that there’s a part of me that will always be a pear-shaped teenage goth girl. I mean, I’m reading the “True Blood” books, for the love of Godric. Horror movies, books, and television shows reflect our collective fears, and “True Blood” is awesome because it sneaks male fears into a female-oriented program. Also: because all the women are hot and sometimes they show their chest.

“I just said I was part girl! But don’t worry. I’m totes not gay! I ended the article with a mention of boobies! Which means I’m totes straight! Unless the part of me that’s a girl is a lesbian. I’m so confused.”

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