There are a lot of things that one can never understand about men.
Their uncanny ability to turn from a light sleeper to a deep one the minute you bring your newborn baby home from the hospital; how they remember who kicked the winning try in the 1975 grandfinal between their team and that team that is no longer in the competition, but they can’t even remember the day they said I do, or your birthday; or how when you walk out of the room all glammed in that dress you wear every time you do go out, they ask you,
“Is that new?”
Really the list could go on and on.
When it comes down to it though, all of these could have some sort of logical explanation that you could find a way to relate to or understand.
Except for this ONE thing that I can NEVER understand or could it be logically explained.
I don’t care what scientific, philosophical or psychological research that comes out to support it, it will always leave me scratching my head thinking,
“Who the FUCK would want to do that? What is wrong with you people?”
I’ve just been sitting here for the past five minutes and my irritation at it has reached peaks. Finally, I let it burst.
“Well you get off the damn toilet! Why you want to sit on there for hours is beyond me.”
There is something deeply and inherently wrong with a species that enjoys sitting on a filthy seat, designed for the flushing away of our stinking waste, for lengthy periods of time.
Why men want to sit in their own stink and filth and read papers, i phones, or contemplate life is beyond me.
Go in, do your business, and get the hell out.
If you have to sit on there for 20 minutes until you can get it out, then you probably weren’t ready to go in in the first place. Let it cook for longer.
There is NO nagging woman THAT bad that you have to escape her by setting on the cess pit for hours.
P.S I ended up being so annoyed by Craig’s extended time on the toilet that I stormed in there to pull him out, only to discover the loo was empty and he was actually downstairs cooking me lunch. Ooops LOL