Humor

XX vs Xwhy

English: A bearded lady from P.T. Barnum’s circus. This is from an article about Barnum in a Russian magazine. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Are we done arguing about whether or not there are gender differences? Really, we’re different. Exceptions in the various ways in specific people, and yes, yes, we’re equally valuable, but different.

Some of these differences are cultural. Others just seem to be hard wired, in the genes, evident in prepubescents. I’d like to explore one of those differences today.

Mission 24 – Empty (Photo credit: Jessia Hime)

Men are unable to replace a roll of toilet paper. I’m not even talking about hanging it from the roller, and won’t begin to touch which is the correct way for the paper to hang. Just taking out a new roll.

I realize women use toilet paper more frequently than men. But they use it. If I go into the bathroom and there’s no toilet paper, I bring in a new roll. If I’m leaving the bathroom and have used the last of the toilet paper, I get a new roll. If I’m in the living room on my computer and hear a masculine call from the bathroom, I get a new roll.

My father was ahead of his time, did a lot of the traditionally “female” jobs around the house. But never once did I see him replace the toilet paper. Maybe my parents aren’t such a great example, though. My mother had a thing about not having garbage in the house. Ever. Of any type. So many times I saw her remove the last twenty or so sheets of toilet paper and flush them just so she could replace it with a puffy and linty new roll. I know this because I watched, always hoping to see her pull out a package of pink toilet paper. Or blue, but the bathroom was pink, so pink would have made more sense. If you’re young, you don’t know that toilet paper used to be available in colors (scented too, but that’s another story). No, it was always white. Cheaper, and my father was a Depression baby who did the shopping–he would drive 3 miles each way for a store honoring double coupons. This is remarkable because there was a grocery store and two drug stores within a three block radius of where we lived. Driving three miles, he passed at least 9 other options.

Husband never replaces the roll. Nor does Man Child or Nerd Child. Flower Child, however, will. She’ll even take the extra 10 minutes to hang it.

Maybe if I could find colored toilet paper, the males of the house would be inspired to replace it.

1970’s Bathroom Suite (Photo credit: libertygrace0)

Shameless Hussy

Français : La Merveilleuse Velver Grip Nouvelle Pince Jarretelle Avec Bouton en Caoutchouc (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

that’s me. But I’m trying to be

Cover of "The Hustler (Two-Disc Collector...

Cover via Amazon

of blogging and shameless self promotion of Mrs Fringe.

My promotional skills are much like my pool skills. I can rack em up with flair, but my break leaves much to be desired.

The question is this, if I suck at self promotion (I’m excellent at the shameless part, if I do say so myself), do I ipso facto suck at blogging?

I don’t think I suck at blogging, my readership continues to grow (albeit slowly), and it seems to me that’s half of blogging–writing stuff people enjoy (or find informative, but that isn’t Mrs Fringe) enough to come back and read again. It’s the other half. The networking, getting your name way out there, where I fizzle.

Blogging is, after all, a form of writing. So what makes writing success? There’s the bottom line of writers write, a leap up to writers publish, paid to publish, publishing well, multi published, best seller lists, supporting oneself (and/or one’s family) from said publications…

Mrs Fringe exists because I live life on the fringe. No money, no time, few marketable skills and a desperate need to have a spot to be truthful (in a fictionalized kinda way) about said life. However, these same factors make it very difficult to do the work necessary to bring Mrs Fringe up to the next level.

Perhaps I’ll stick to being a hussy.

Hip flask tucked into a garter belt during Prohibition (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Dear Hope,

#ds308 – Out of Luck (Photo credit: Sharon Drummond)

Regretfully, this is a letter of resignation. After working for you without a day off for the last 40,ooo years, I feel it’s time to move in a new direction.

So there is no misunderstanding, I have accepted a full time position with your competitor, Drudgery. I confess, I’ve been moonlighting with Drudgery from the beginning of my tenure with you. Unlike the hierarchy here at Hope, where executives walk into their positions with their pockets full, and worker bees are expected to turn their pockets inside out as they pass through the security checkpoint; Drudgery is a true collaboration, with no false benefits.

In the beginning, I was excited to have the opportunity to work for you, believing that one day, I would be made a full partner in the firm. Instead, I was forced to spend my days bringing coffee to Wait and See, and make endless, useless copies for Maybe One Day. There is no teamwork anymore, no excitement when I catch a glimpse of your star partner, Acceptance. I worked tirelessly as an advocate for Acceptance, touting him as the yin to your yang, believing this was how I would get my own office with the view of Waterfront Hope.

I’m sure this notice will make no difference to the unfortunate state of your operations department, and I’m certain your shill game will continue to thrive.

Respectfully yours,

Mrs Fringe

Resigned Intern