Posted in Economics, Food/Cooking, Humor, Men's Rights, Women

A first-date litmus test for men

TwinPeaks_tshirt
“I’m the MAN! Of course I love you…now get me a beer!”

My husband James and I just got back from a lovely birthday lunch – he turned fifty-five today. Of course he’d known it would be great; we were, after all, at a restaurant of his choosing. Halfway through that meal I stumbled upon what I think could be a mind-blowing “litmus test” for men out there still willing to date women.

I could be wrong but I’m really hoping there are four, maybe five such men left in America (maybe a couple more out in the far reaches of the Empire), you who still date or would like to, if only……so as Bill Nye the Science Guy used to say, Please; consider the following. (I’d love to hear what you four think.)

So, there we were, not only senior-citizens (Gag!) but “a couple,” in a place designed from the parking lot forward for guys or groups of them. Infused with testosterone it was. It all begins with the business’ double entendre name (Twin Peaks  p.s. I have no personal interest in this chain). It then carries through with a rustic cabiny-décor, juxtaposed with dozens of flat screens broadcasting sports, a ¼-mile racetrack of a bar…and oh, off to the side a wall of funny t-shirts (favorite one above) that could easily bring down some kind of Hate-Crime-against-Women I’m sure! Other than the female hostess and all-female wait staff, I was only one of three women customers when we first sat down at about high-noon. During our meal a couple more Olders came in with husbands presumably, a couple more Youngers with boyfriends, equally presumably.

Being in a restaurant overflowing with the proverbial buxom waitresses? I confess it took me a few minutes to get acclimated. Maybe it was all that fresh mountain air and the alpine altitude. Certainly it was different in a good way from what I’d felt in the past – merely upon contemplating such an establishment from afar. Then it’d been annoyance. With a vigorous pooh-poohing I could always dismiss the whole idea of those kinds of so-called restaurants. They were mere excuses for men to go and ogle pretty girls without the “stigma” of a strip club or the out-of-the-way drive. And a man’s got to eat lunch doesn’t he?

Which brings me to the first three things I realized today: 1) the food was much better than I imagined it’d be; it was terrific actually (fried pickles & chicken-fried chicken done to perfection, “Knotty Brunette” beer icy/slushy, pulled pork mini-sliders moist & flavorful); 2) our server was only one year older than our daughter; and 3) waitresses in uniforms “like that” should AVOID tan-lines.

“She’s the best looking one here,” my husband said most of the way through the meal. I assumed he meant our waitress, but realized he was looking towards the bar. “She’s OK,” I said, scrutinizing the long-haired brunette – I guess subconsciously, I guess for a flaw – when, Bingo! Found one, so I added quickly, “She could use more eye make-up, though.” God. I couldn’t believe I was advocating a 20-something go further out on the Cosmetics’ Ledge I’d been trying (in vain) to talk our daughter back down from for several years now.

I can see now that comment was My Bad, My Petty Ugly (typical female!!!) Bad. Afterwards I looked more closely at our waitress as she went here and there to her other tables. She was, in fact, one of the cuter ones. Natural (unlike some that were a bit unusually well-endowed); not wildly tatted; casually smiling (unlike one who’d looked very sour as she brought our food on behalf of our waitress). And then it dawned on me. This restaurant was The Perfect First-Date Place for men. It’s very raison d’etre is to be Male-Friendly. Add to that it’s inexpensive; the food is pretty simple (mostly all-American favorites) and very deelish; plus, plus, plus, they offer Glenlivet (and a nice selection of beer, too).

So choose one of these guy-spots you few, you happy, hardy few gents-still-dating and I’m certain you’ll get a deeper “peak” into your date’s brain in one short night than a therapist could in a year. Her skull may start thinning, hence exposing its inner workings/her true personality from the moment you pull into the parking lot. Just what does this female think about the business’ blatant nod to Male Sexuality? Does she “get it?” Does she understand: 1) men always like to Look-at-Women; 2) they always have; 3) it’s not SAFE for men to do so in most other places given today’s Femi-twisted world; and 4) if she’s offended at #3, does she understand that makes her a part of the problem of #3? And now, unto the breach…

Once inside, does she seem comfortably conscious of her own exposed flesh or uncomfortable with the “competition?” Is she happily or lightheartedly observing (even comparing herself to) the waitresses or sullenly sizing them up and down (and muttering!)? Is she eager to be seated or more eager in suggesting an alternative dining establishment, say, something quote nicer or quieter (read: more expensive or where all eyes might be more apt to be on her)? Have you started to your table yet?

You might consider going ahead of her. This not only saves you from running into her if you get distracted and she stops suddenly, it shows you’re no ladies-first Neo-Con slash Traditionalist. Besides if you do reconnoiter the room in transit (with full knowledge she can see you) and she then fires icy stares across the table as soon as you sit down, what more could you possibly need to know?

I wish you the best of luck administering this unique litmus-test. In the event you’ve already quit dating, might I suggest instead you give a Twin Peaks restaurant your undivided attention? Bon appetit.

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Posted in Big Sis, Humor, Men's Rights, Politics, Women

Jessica Valenti t-shirts

JessicaValenti_tshirts_poster

In “honor” of special snowflake, Jessica Valenti, I offer a D.I.Y. project rather than working on a short story (probably for another whole week!) to illustrate the rage I felt yesterday upon seeing her t-shirted Twit-selfie (see it at center of poster, above). NOTE: My Jessica’s mini-she wears the “dress length.”

Be careful 😉 of the “background” you choose when photographing your dressed up manikin…my first choice, as you see below, “might could” have led to misinterpretation:

JV_tshirt_Hammer_wrongbackground
Oo-oop-sie

 

Below is a one-page print-out with the super simple directions and placement suggestion for your “pithy saying.”

JessicaValenti_tshirtpattern

Here is the ready-to-cut pattern which you can print (@ 100%) on an 8.5″ x 11″ sheet of paper.

Cut right to the thin lines or barely trim them off, though they won’t show.

JessicaValenti_tshirtpattern_centered

 

Posted in Big Brother, Big Sis, Men's Rights, Political Correctness

Why prosecute? Just ignore or appreciate

StillDontNeedFeminism2

Ah-h-h, the good old days…of Wolf-whistles*, that is. How hard was it, Feminist, or how tough is it right now – if you’re young enough and decent-looking enough – to simply:

IGNORE or APPRECIATE

all those attentive glances? If you’re “of a certain age” like me, I’m willing to bet you miss them now. But alas, Feminist, it’s…

Too Late to Turn Back Now…

Why, oh why, did you have to go so far, Feminist? To make such male-normalcy (noticing women’s sexiness and sounding-off about it) seem criminal? You can’t see, can you Feminist, that this support of yours for Male Oppression (in all areas of “gender equity,” including but not limited to: “college admissions preferences,” “hiring quotas,” “sexual harassment laws,” “enthusiastic consent forms” “sexual regret/date rape tribunals” et al) PROVES just how UNEQUAL to Men your ideology of Feminism requires you be (or pretend to be!).

You are a spoil-sport, Feminist, and have been from the beginning. When things don’t go your way you demand your “betters” be sidelined or that the rules be changed. Why not “act the man” your scriptures continuously claim women are just like, Feminist? Why not preach that women just suck-it-up; simply improve through hard work, or, Lordy, Lordy, if all else fails, find a new “sport” to play?

I guess, Feminist, that would require the most difficult thing of all: an admission of having been wrong. All…those…decades. And accepting responsibility for having been complicit in doing harm to so many in your name, Feminist.

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* Wolf-whistle:  stereotypical whistle-of-appreciation made by Construction Workers as a woman “of a certain visage” walked by their worksite, also stereotypically in The City, though practically speaking, the term could apply anywhere and to any man clearly enjoying the view of a good-looking woman and vocalizing that enjoyment.