We've had a series at church recently on the differences between men and women. Beyond the fact that one has the inney and one has the outey (as detailed by me here), I've found there are many differences that I'd like to make horrible, broad, generalizations about. Feel free to disagree or add your own.
If a woman was going to build a skyscraper, she'd make sure it had lots of usable work space, plenty of bathrooms, greenery outside, windows for lots of natural light, and make sure it was handicap accessible and gave people a comfortable, at-home feel.
If a man was going to build a skyscraper, he'd make sure it looked super-phallic.
If a man was going to buy shampoo, he'd get one with conditioner added to eliminate a step during the shower.
If a woman was going to buy shampoo, she'd check to see what product (name an actress) was using, because her hair just looked so (curly/shiny/soft) in that movie. Then, she'd find out in (name a fashion magazine) that another shampoo is supposed to be better because it's got some previously unheralded natural ingredient that promises to add (curl/shine/three orgasms). Then, she'd go to the store, hold both products in her hand, and choose neither, because she's having a bad hair day and is just too pissed to think about shampoo.
If a woman was going to rent a movie, she'd choose something she knows will make her laugh or make her cry... or maybe something that just won an award. If Zac Efron's in it, good. If Brad Pitt is in it, even better.
If a man was going to rent a movie, he'd first browse through all of the options, then decide what kind of mood he's in. He'd narrow the field down to a blockbuster action movie (bonus for anything with a nipple or two) an artsy movie (artsy like "Fight Club" or "American Beauty," not artsy like "Memoirs of a Geisha") and a bromantic comedy (anything involving Ferrell/Rudd/Rogen/et. al). After a lengthy debate... he'd go with the movie with the nips. Because they are nips. And they are enchanting as a summer's day in Paris.
If a man got a phone number from a cute girl, he'd figure out if she's a short-term or a long-term possibility, and use that to decide when to call or text her. He'd take a grand total of 30 seconds figuring this out, perhaps done in part by checking her Facebook photos. The other portion of the night would be spent watching "Crash," waiting for the nude scene with Jennifer Esposito*. Just kidding. He's still Facebook stalking you and seeing if your friends are cuter than you are.
If a woman got a phone number from a cute guy, she'd spend: 1 minute giggling with excitement; 5 minutes wondering if he's going to call; 10 minutes calling her friends, explaining what just happened and asking them what they think; 20 minutes freaking out that he hasn't called yet; 1 minute wondering if he thinks they are pretty enough; 5 minutes cursing that they wore the black pumps and not the red stilettos; 4 hours staring at the phone; and, three days later, about 3 minutes actually talking to the guy and pretending like it's no big deal he waited this long.
If a woman was consoling her son after he missed the game-winning shot, she'd remind him how he did a great job scoring 20 points already, and that he'll get another chance.
If a man was consoling his son after he missed the game-winning shot, he'd remind him to stop being such an f'in loser and hit the shot next time.
If a man was giving directions, he'd first ask why you don't have a Garmin or TomTom, then tell you to go 4 miles, take a right at the intersection of Taft and Smith, then go half a block until you reach the fourth house on the left.
If a woman was giving directions, she'd first rub it in your face that you're a man and you're asking her for directions. Then she'd start talking about the destination, how the house has this cool wraparound porch, and this one time, she hung out there all night with some friends and they talked about this movie with Matt Damon and Ben Affleck and oh my God what was it called and how it was... oh yeah, then she'd remember she's giving you directions. Then she'd tell you to drive until you pass this pretty oak tree that's near a gas station (it's not near the gas station-- it's half a mile away and it's not an oak tree, it's a store that sells oak furniture that is near some trees), then take a left, or was it a right? No, it's a right, right(?) onto this wide road that has, like, too many speed bumps. Then she'd tell you to go a little while until you saw a red house. Or was it maroon?... Good Will Hunting!
If a man was going to watch "America's Next Top Model," he'd.... oh, who am I kidding?
* Not Eva Mendes, as previously written. I get those two mixed up all the time. Nice catch, AmyXXOO, except now I'm worried you are also looking for nude scenes with Eva. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Quick note: Maxim and Cosmo reviews will be done as soon as they decide to send them to my new address. Let's hope it's soon.
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