Why Women Are Crabby

We started to "bud" in our blouses at 9 or 10 years old only to find that anything that came in contact with those tender, blooming buds hurt so bad it brought us to tears. So came the ridiculously uncomfortable training bra contraption that the boys in school would snap until we had calluses on our backs.

Next, we get our periods in our early to mid-teens (or sooner). Along with those budding boobs, we bloated, we cramped, we got the hormone crankies, had to wear little mattresses between our legs or insert tubular, packed cotton rods in places we didn't even know we had.

Our next little rite of passage (premarital or not) was having sex for the first time which was about as much fun as having a ramrod push your uterus through your nostrils (IF he did it right and didn't end up with his little cart before his horse), leaving us to wonder what all the fuss was about.

Then it' was off to Motherhood where we learned to live on dry crackers and water for a few months so we didn't spend the entire day leaning over Brother John. Of course, amazing creatures that we are (and we are), we learned to live with the growing little angels inside us steadily kicking our innards night and day making us wonder if we were preparing to have Rosemary's Baby.

Our once flat bellies looked like we swallowed a watermelon whole and we pee'd our pants every time we sneezed. When the big moment arrived, the dam in our blessed Nether Regions invariably burst right in the middle of the mall and we had to waddle, with our big cartoon feet, moaning in pain all the way to the ER.

Then it was huff and puff and beg to die while the OB says, "Please stop screaming, Mrs. Hearmeroar. Calm down and push. Just one more good push (more like 10)," warranting a strong, well-deserved impulse to punch the %*#!* (and hubby) square in the nose for making us cram a wiggling, mushroom-headed 10lb bowling ball through a keyhole.

After that, it was time to raise those angels only to find that when all that "cute" wears off, the beautiful little darlings morphed into walking, jabbering, wet, gooey, snot-blowing, life-sucking little poop machines.

Then come their "Teen Years." Need I say more?

When the kids are almost grown, we women hit our voracious sexual prime in our early 40's - while hubby had his somewhere around his 18th birthday.

So we progress into the grand finale: "The Menopause," the Grandmother of all womanhood. It's either take HRT and chance cancer in those now seasoned "buds" or the aforementioned Nether Regions, or, sweat like a hog in July, wash your sheets and pillowcases daily and bite the head off anything that moves.

Now, you ask WHY women seem to be more spiteful than men, when men get off so easy, INCLUDING the icing on life's cake: Being able to pee in the woods without soaking their socks...

So, while I love being a woman, "Womanhood" would make the Great Gandhi a tad crabby. Women are the "weaker sex"? Yeah right. Bite me.

[teehee ... I'm so glad I'm not like most women. I'm not actually crabby most of the time.]

Cars

Over at Sam's Place he is talking about cars and whether or not they are American. I sum it up like this:

A car has 4 wheels and an engine as well as many working parts that can break down. No one ever knows who makes those parts, but they don't last forever regardless of who does. It will be "the cheapest bid wins."

A car transports you from point A to point B in whatever level of comfort you choose to put your money into for the brand you want.

Personally ... I would love to simply have a car. So Keyboard ... you are lucky no matter what you choose.

It Figures

Yesterday, all provincial government employees received an e-mail from the Premier about a new award, the "Premier's Award of Excellence" meant to be awarded to any provincial employee who shows outstanding leadership, service, etc. My first thought was, "yeah, here come more rewards for management and the little guys will still not be recognized."

It wasn't 1/2 hour later when our division received an e-mail from middle management suggesting that we nominate the Director. How typical!!!! For once, I would like to see the little guy be appreciated. Maybe I am just sensitive because there are several things happening in my life at the moment that make me feel unappreciated, but I see it all too often when the support people have the great ideas, put them to work, and then management takes all the credit and accolades. Personally, I believe we should all be humble and take reward in a job well done, one that helps those who know nothing about you.

It figures, doesn't it????

Defining Frustration

This is how I define frustration lately:

• Wanting to cut the grass, but the blade has not been attached and needs to be sharpened. I have no file to do so, and have lost patience with the unco-operative weather and getting someone to do it for me.
• Wanting to hang blinds and not having a drill to drill into the wood frames because I am not strong enough to screw them in without drilling. I also don't know how to use a drill, don't have one, don't have a ladder/stepstool to reach the window, and am having difficulty getting someone to help.
• Wanting to cut low-hanging branches off trees that are in the way and not having big, heavy shears to cut them or a saw.
• Wanting to move firewood back under the newly-renovated deck and having a wheelbarrow with a flat tire. It requires a compressor or an inner tube to fix it, neither of which I have.
• Needing to replace a piece of chimney and not being able to light a fire until it is fixed.
• Needing to rip up a piece of carpet that is glued down and not having a pair of vice-grips to pull it up with.
• Needing to buy a lot of things and having trouble finding a way to get them home when you can't carry them on the bus.

These are just some of things that are frustrating me at the present time. It makes me shake my head and ask myself why the hell I wanted to buy a house on my own when I don't have a car either. Some days it feels too restrictive for many reasons. I'm trying hard to keep positive that this is where God wants me to be. This is not a step backwards, it is a step towards a wonderful future, one that is waiting just around the corner for me. I certainly hope it is just around the corner anyway. I don't know how long my patience will hold out like this. Life will be good, right? Life will be good.