Two friends meet to bemoan the never ending winter.
Friend One: Will the cold and snow never end? I’m thinking of donating all my non-boot footwear to charity.
Friend Two: With the gorgeous shoes you own, that would be a tragedy. If you stop buying shoes, the entire economy of Italy will take a hit and the Euro will be devalued. But if Christie’s auctions them off, it could pay the National Debt. There might even be a surplus in the budget.
Friend One: Now that’s a cheery thought. Well, I won’t really give up any of them, but I am thinking of purchasing some dynamite. Is it illegal to use it on private property? I can’t see out onto the highway because of the snowbanks.
Friend Two: Did the Highway Department ever do anything about the NASCAR snowplow driver who keeps dumping snow from the cross highway near your property entrance? I know you recorded him backing up and barreling down the road so fast it shoots the mess fifty feet up your lane.
Friend One: I spoke with the county commissioner. I think things will improve. I told him I posted the video on YouTube as a statement to the quality of tax dollar use in our county. I also called the local TV stations, one of which I own.
Friend Two: My bank holds the loan on the equipment the town uses for all the road work. I can call up the Board members if needed.
Friend One: How about your road?
Friend Two: The snow mountain outside my garage is still encroaching on the house. Every day it seems to be creeping farther down the driveway. I think it has formed a glacier. Pretty soon I will be trapped in the house and won’t be able to get any vehicle out. You may have to lend me a horse.
Friend Two: You know you can borrow the helicopter anytime. When are you going to break down and get your own? It’s much more practical than your yacht.
Friend One: But not as much fun for those tropical excursions.
Friend Two: We need a distraction from all the winter depression. Even TV has the same old stuff.
Friend One: Yup. More of the same. And the gender inequality is getting worse. First we had Sister Wives, about the man who has four women and all those kids living together. In theory this scenario is every man’s dream. A harem at his beck and call. Now there’s a new one coming out called My 5 Wives. They have 24 kids but are all supposedly blissfully happy together. Why do women put up with this? Are they that insecure? Who in their right mind wants to go through labor and delivery five or more times?
Friend Two: What man wants to live with 5 times PMS, tampons by the truckload, cases of Pampers piled in corners, and leg hair in every shower? The never ending puberty and teen angst issues of the kids would drive me to drink or self-medicate. Plus the kids have PMS and shaving issues, too. I want to know how they coordinate sports, ballet, music, homework, and everything else for 24 kids. Who does the cooking? Changes diapers? How many loads of laundry are washed a day? Who takes out the trash and cleans the toilets? I’ll bet those real life issues will never come up on the show.
Friend One: The gender roles need to be reversed. Why aren’t there any shows like My Horny Hubbies or The Testosterone Twelve or Multiple Male Minions? I’d love to see the promo with five or six hot guys fawning over some average looking middle aged woman with cellulite, stretch marks and saggy boobs.
Friend Two: Well, Mama Network just announced a new series starting next week: Studmuffin Ranch. I’m not yet sure if it is serious or a satire. I can imagine the steamy scenes with the gal of the week ropin’ those cowboys. I wonder if they are taking applications for women to be profiled each episode?
Friend One: I just hope it makes men uncomfortable as women turn the tables and go public about the old double standard the same way men have always done. Can you imagine overhearing comments in public by women about male anatomy just the way men comment on women’s body parts?
Friend Two: Yes. How would men like it if every time they walked by a woman they knew she checked out his crotch, ass or gut and winked at a friend, or made a lewd masturbation gesture?
Friend One: What finally happened with the restaurant thing the other day? Weren’t you seated at a table next to the county commissioner you spoke to earlier?
Friend Two: Yeah. He never stopped talking about the waitresses’ breasts. “They were the size of cantaloupes. Isn’t that top heavy? When is enough enough, or is it never enough? Hahaha. ” He was so busy trying to impress some flunkies that he didn’t even recognize me. So I moved to a different table and watched the fun.
Friend One: What did you do? Did he realize that you own the restaurant?
Friend Two: First I talked to the manager, who spoke to the staff. They accidentally spilled water on him three times, and if I were him I wouldn’t have eaten the food that was put on his table. It was anatomically correct, but I doubt he noticed. And I have no idea what went on top of it.
The staff took turns going out to the parking lot on their breaks. When I left, his car had four flat tires and was covered in toilet tissue. Someone had drawn very realistic pictures in ketchup and mustard all over it, too. I’m not sure how it happened, but I guess he forgot to lock the doors and some random spray cheese cans exploded inside. Such a shame for a brand new luxury car.
Friend One: When you called me I was just about to dial Mavis at the car insurance company. I think his policy has been cancelled. You know the sheriff’s department already hates the guy because of the snow plow thing. Once he manages to get a vehicle from Shady Sam, the only guy who will sell to him now, he better drive really carefully. Plus Mavis has a friend at the credit bureau…
Friend One: We just want some decent men over 50 who have their own teeth and some money. Where are they?
Friend Two: Looking for women well under 50 to patronize and exploit. Mid-life crisis junkies.
Friend One: It’s a sad state that the lessons their Mamas taught them got lost in the Good Old Boy back rooms. Don’t men realize that every time they mistreat a woman they give up the right to be treated like a man? That means anything coming out of their mouths, like cussing, sexual references and innuendos, off color jokes or any spoken words. It also includes gestures, invading personal space or any action that makes a woman feel uncomfortable in a man’s presence.
Friend Two: So apparently sexual harassment training in the workplace hasn’t been taken very seriously. Despite lip service, men still control the climate in most companies.
Friend One: Or in the military when many women must report the abuse by chain of command to the person who abused them, their superior officer, so you know that goes no place and gets worse. And the majority of women remain silent victims of repeated rape and abuse. It’s all over the news.
Friend Two: It’s so depressing. Females should never have to compensate or excuse anything about their existence or skills. Where do we go from here?
Friend One: Maybe we could clone DNA and start a new race of Amazons. The intelligence of women with the strength of men, and the sensitivity and "it" quality of gay men.
Friend Two: Ping, ping. (Looks at smartphone) Well, Mama just sent me some GPS coordinates. You aren’t doing anything for a couple days are you?
Friend One: * Sigh* Nope. Hey- Is that your helicopter landing in the parking lot?
Friend Two: Sure is. Come on- let’s just go and enjoy a weekend at Studmuffin Ranch.
Friend One: OK. Now where did I put my spurs?