Penis fascination and urination

You cannot turn on the TV these days without seeing references to penises.  LOTS of references.  Seems everyone is fascinated with these strange objects.  Men especially.  They want to know the obvious, how they measure up but there is so much more...

How far can they pee?  Where can they pee?  The yard, the sink, around the toilet, in the corner of the bedroom.  Off of tall buildings, all buildings, into rivers, oceans and lakes.  Would women do this if we could? Can they write their name in the snow with their hot yellow urine?

Why do they have to urinate in the sink? I wash my food in there!  The toilet seems perfectly serviceable to me. Neither I, nor any of my women friends pee anywhere else if we can help it.  Of course occasionally we have to pee in the woods, during a long trail run, but we'd prefer the comfort of a toiletseat.  With paper.  Which brings me to toilet paper.  Some men use it, some don't. If they do not, they shake the excess pee off all around the room.  It even gets on them but still, shake shake shake!  They think all this convenience, fun and games  gives us penis envy.  They are so wrong.

And it is no wonder they cannot get their minds off their penises.  Even if you ignore them, they stand up and demand attention.  Constantly.  How uncomfortable to have to carry this sometimes heavy, demanding, fragile object on the outside of their bodies, front and center in the most dangerous, vulnerable position.  How did this evolve?  Certainly not  an 'intelligent design.'  If it was designed, it must have been by a woman with an awesome sense of humor!

 I think penises and their vulnerablilty make men angry, while the demands of their testosterone make them sooooo irate.  Big, strong men hate being vulnerable anywhere, even a tiny bit!  It makes whole cultures angry. This penis anger makes them lash out against women and women's bodies. This anger makes them legislate laws about women, trying to control them. They rape with this anger. They do not know what to do with all this aggression.  They start wars, shut down governments, murder, cheat, lie, steal and worse.  They are angry at the earth, their mother so they ruin her.   They shake pee all over their own house, they strew garbage and industrial waste all over the earth.

Oh, how I digress.  All because men like to pee all over the place; an ancient throwback to marking their territories.

The fighting men

What is it with men?  They size up everyone.  They wonder who would win in a fight.  How many times have I heard, "who do you think would win in a fight?  Suzie or Max?  Max or Jim?  You or Suzie?"  Or, "I was thinking about what it would be like to fight him."  My man isn't even the fighting type, on the surface.  Sure he'll go toe-to-toe with me any day verbally.  I think maybe he should have been a lawyer.  I never think any of my barbs hit home until a week or so later when he might bring one up.   Inside every man is there violence?  Was it bred into them, genetically and/or historically?  Will it ever be gone?  This must be why we still have wars, still have men who need to go out and do battle.  Are there less of them now than there have been in the past?  Is there still a need for them in our society?  Wouldn't we all be much better off if we only had oral debates?  I guess fists are better than guns.  Less death that way.

I know a few men who actually do fight, and like it. With fists! I wonder how much they think about fighting.  You know the type:  "Go start the car, and keep it running, I'll be right out."  Some girls/women actually like it when their men fight, and blood spills, because of them.  I think these men tend to be chauvinistic and barbarian.  I have to admit that there is a small attraction to this, but my brain knows that there is really no use for this trait in every day society.  I would rather have a smart man anyday.

My son, as soon as he was able, loved to fight and wrestle.  I had to remind him I was a mom, and he could be much rougher with Dad.  I hate being so sexist but sometimes he just go too rough for me.  I loved some wrestling.  My daughter also did a bit of rough housing but not as much.  Maybe she just wasn't encouraged to do so though, rather than blaming it on genetics.

I honestly have never thought about what it would be like to fight someone, or who would win in a fight.  If I am VERY angry at someone, I might secretly wish some kind of revenge, for just a short bit, but it never involves me fighting.  I would run in the event of actual fists flying.   Once, in elementary school, some popular girls wanted to sign my yearbook. I didn't want them to.  We weren't friends.  Did they think they were so popular that everyone just wanted their autograph? Anyway, they blackened my eye and  bloodied my nose, among other things.  I never put down the yearbook, I didn't run, and I did not even try to fight back.  Eventually, the watching teacher took me to the nurse's office, but not until I was good and banged up.

Introduction, laying out the scene

At this time of my life, I find myself living with just my husband and son, as my confident daughter has gone off to college, taking her assertiveness with her to start her own journey.  Meanwhile, my path has taken a turn down a dark, but humorous alley, filled with dirty socks and dishes, empty candy wrappers and not-so-lonely dropped kernels of popcorn, like white bunny poop, all over my red carpet. (The carpet came with the house.)

 Hugs make up for finding my headphones under the couch and nothing but baseball and American Ninja on the television.  I love my men, even as they burp, fart and assume that because I am a woman, I should both make meals and clean them up.  And I do, most of the time.  Am I becoming like them?  Sitting back in the easy chair with my knitting, half watching the pitcher stall before he throws the next pitch, while I count the stitches in my knitting, am I ready to start the neckline yet?   Can I get them to help by occasionally cleaning the shower?

As I sit writing this, the box of halloween costumes, ghosts of both the past and future, has vomited all over the living room.  Miniature bunnies nose through the mess, looking cute in wigs.  I think I can put up with this mess, after all, it can be put away in just a few days.  But the laundry I folded and placed in neat piles on the kitchen table...well that won't be put away unless I do it.  They do enjoy seeing their laundry on the table, so easily viewed, the selections more colorful than Thanksgiving dinner entrees.  After all, they'd prefer just eating in an easy chair, one eye on the TV, the other on a computer screen.  No wonder there is silverware under the chair...

The crazy is too big for me.  I might as well just keep on knitting.  It is pleasing to my eye.  the company is not bad either...