OK, so you HAVE to admit … wit on a woman is sexy. I mean, freakin’ hot.
Which is why I’ve embarked on my latest mission to find some hilarious chicas (and chicos, coming soon) on the blogosphere.
The first one is guest-posting for me today! And you know she’s funny, because Jenny Lawson (a.k.a. “The Bloggess”) reads her stuff. Heck, Jenny PROMOTES this animated momma on her blogroll … which is how I found her.
So meet Irene Barnett, who blogs over at Left of Plumb! When you’re done here, go check out her blog; you won’t be sorry.
Pull My Finger: My Uncivilized Life with Boys
GUEST BLOG BY IRENE BARNETT
I am not a girly girl.
I am the one my girlfriends come to when they want a male perspective on something.
My favorite roommates have always been men.
Males don’t have hidden agendas and neither do I.
They are simple, single-cell sort of organisms and I like that.
Anyway, just want to set the scene.
It was with a mix of ambivalence and horror that I approached the idea of having children. But, when I found out that my twins were going to be boys, I felt this made some sort of cosmic sense.
However, being outnumbered so drastically has taken its toll on me (even our pets – a dog, two African water frogs and one husband – are boys).
I firmly believe that my lowered estrogen level is actually not menopause, but some sort of environmental hormonal pollution that is sucking it right out of my ovaries like some bad sci-fi movie.
Here are just a few of the behaviors that I now realize I have low tolerance for:
- Burping and farting are high art forms and if my children are the Rembrandts of both, then I am the Edvard Munch.
[For the love of God, light a freakin’ match!!]
- The bathroom smells like a subway urinal … after a hobo convention … where they served asparagus and brussel sprouts.
- They think their junk is fascinating and don’t understand why the rest of us don’t agree and want to view it every chance we can.
- They can only do one thing at a time, and even that confuses them.
- They are hygienically challenged. I’m not sure what half of the odors are that I smell or what part of the body they originate from, but I will probably go blind from it.
- They are incapable of closing a kitchen cabinet door. If they could, the kitchen would just be shelves, hooks and an intricate pully system like something out of Wallace and Gromit.
[OK, I take this one back as an annoyance. That would be SO cool!!]
The sole reason I don’t end up selling them on the black market is simply this: they are the only humans who understand that I am the absolute pinnacle of awesomeness. Somehow, despite their rather base behavior everywhere else, they are advanced enough to recognize this one truth.
And I’m not willing to give that up, no matter how bad that fart smells.
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Irene Barnett is a working co-parent of twin boys and a rescue dog. She currently makes the rent by assuming the identity of a high-powered executive for a software consulting firm that is based out of Seattle, while she actually tries to live the life of a writer in Santa Barbara, Calif. (http://leftofplumb.com). Irene loves paddleboarding, movies, sitting and staring, and shiny things. She hates chickens but has a soft spot for hobos.
Photo credits:
- ms_saggitarius89, http://www.flickr.com/photos/55257360@N03/5223087250/
- rustybrick, http://www.flickr.com/photos/rustybrick/321252575/sizes/m/in/photostream
- patersor, http://www.flickr.com/photos/patersor/4802436959/
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