. . . Boys Go to Jupiter to Get More Stupider

A long-disputed and highly controversial subject in our society is the question of whether males or females are the superior gender. I am here to tell you that, without question, it is most definitely the latter. Three facts that prove girls are better than boys beyond a shadow of a doubt are that they are more highly esteemed as models, are more determined to look good, and make better mothers.

If there’s one thing modern America has taught us, it’s that models are a more evolved subspecies of humans, and we should all want to be like them. Naturally, one could infer from this that if a person were easily recognizable as a model, he or she would be the best of the best – the ultimate Homo superior, if you will. Now, if I were to ask you who Tyra Banks is, you’d probably answer “the host of America’s Next Top Model” or “that chick on Sport’s Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition,” depending on if you’re a girl or boy. Simply, I’m sure you would be able to identify her as a model. However, if I were to ask you to tell me who Travis Fimmel is, could you? Is the name ringing any bells? Well, Fimmel is currently ranked the number one male model in the world. My point in this demonstration is, of course, that in putting two allegedly famous models together, a female and a male, you only knew of the former. If, indeed, a model is a sign of excellence, then men have been made Mercury to women’s Jupiter.

On a similar note, women tend to go to greater lengths to present themselves in a more attractive manner. It’s a proven fact that attractive people are more successful in life than their average counterparts. Though at first glance the average woman spending $471 a year on beauty products compared to Joe Sixpack’s $198 may seem wasteful, in the long run it will actually allow her a better shot at a well-paying job. This not only makes females smarter for a larger initial investment in appearance, but also ultimately more successful. Although it is true that things like the addition or absence of floral scents from shaving cream make such stark differences in the figures mentioned before, you have to ask yourself the question: Wouldn’t I be more receptive to someone who smelled like roses? Wouldn’t I be coerced more willingly into a pointless purchase if I was satisfied in matters of olfaction? I think you’ll find that the answer is yes, yes you would be.

Of course, nothing measures success like good mothering. Although all of us need to be told to wipe the blood from our lips and man-up when we get into trouble, there is also that small and irrational part of our psyche that wishes to be comforted when we’re in pain. And let’s face it – although Dad was great slapping that cold steak on your eye the first time you got whapped with a baseball, he isn’t gonna be there to rub your feet and feed you chicken broth when you have the sniffles. A very important part of child development is TLC. It’s what trains us to value negotiation over brute force; what keeps us in check all those years down the road when that that kid in our Algebra class won’t stop talking about his new video game and our pencil is poised to strike. When you get down to it, mothers are the only ones who can offer that ever-so-important tender, loving care. They’re the ones who’ll wear the luridly flowered aprons and cook the slightly-burned bacon that make a house feel like home. They’ll never tell you the truth about your school photos, and always compliment your English essays. You’re your mommy’s googly-bear, her snuffle-dove. Honestly, Pops will never hit that level of endearing smothering, no matter how hard he tries . . . unless he’s Clay Aiken, but I shouldn’t get into that now.

Being a decent human being, of course, I believe that both genders must have equal representation under the law, but I think we can all agree that when we strip bare the pillar of humanity, doing away with sociopolitical nuances and attitudes, women leave men in the dust. But don’t worry boys – if there’s anything people like Chris Crocker have been a shining example of, it’s that you can shed that cumbersome coat of masculinity and release your inner diva.

It's Because I Want To Help You

I've decided it's time to step in and stop boys' (adorable) desperate flailing when it comes to being in a relationship. Although it can be sort of endearing how much they want to succeed, I think everyone involved would agree that it would be easier to just lay out a fool-proof list to win the heart of a girl. Obviously, because I am (usually) only one person, I can only list what my expectations are, but I believe that they ring true for most every woman. (Keep in mind that, as a Christian, my faith will be pervasive throughout my list. This is likely the major difference between what I consider important and what woman of other faiths or none at all do.)

David Bowie is my favorite boy right now, even though he fails about a third of my list (and is 62 *cough*).

1) He must be a Christian.

I don't care how good-looking, smooth-talking, suave or rich he is, if the man has not dedicated his life to Christ I will not give him a second glance. Because of my own weaknesses, I know that if I don't have a boyfriend who will uphold my faith then I may just lose it. It is vitally important that this does not happen. Therefore, a living faith has definitely scored numero uno on my list. (Not to mention that, as it happens, most of the true Christian guys I meet are smarter, nicer and funnier than the non-Christians, but I suppose those perks just come with the territory ;-).)

2) He must be intelligent.

I do not necessarily mean on tests (though it would be nice), but the person I choose to date must be obviously bright. I hate having to put up with pointless, dull conversations with people who have horridly limited vocabularies. You know the kind I mean, the ones who think "socialism" is a big word. Yeah. Gag me with a spork. It ma y, regrettably, be a streak of superiority that runs in me, but, whatever the case, the only people I can really become friends with are i ntellectuals of some flavor. I'm smart, and therefore he must be smart too.

3) He must be a conservative.

And yes, I do mean in terms of political alignment. I could never, not ever stand even sharing the same breathing space in a political debate with a devout liberal. Considering the world I've been raised in, politics have becom e very important to me. I do not care if he is Republican-conservative or Democratic-conservative -- because really, party affiliation means little at the base of things -- but if he is green, liberal, anarchist . . . anything besides conservative, I will leave him in a second flat. Knowing my idealistic self and how important those who influence America are to me, I could never put up with a boyfriend who did not support my political beliefs. (I would tell you why, but I'd just start hating on the liberal agenda and that isn't the time for that.) Having someone to analytically and intelligently discuss the news with without fear of a smackdown is always nice, too. :-)

So, admittedly, a terrible haircut, but the golden tan and toned pecs more than make up for it, right?

4) He must be ambitious and have potential/be successful.

I grouped these two together because I think in a quality man following what God wants him to do the two go hand in hand. I could never date someone who wasn't a visionary. I don't care if he's doing great when I meet him (I don't want him to be broke, mind you, I just don't care if he's the next Bill Gates or not), but he ne eds to show that he at least has the ability to keep a steady job that earns a decent amount of money while working for bigger and better things. I don't want his dreams to be something like opening a burger shack, but if his only ambition is to find an acceptable, well-paying job at some office and raise a happy family, I'm perfectly h appy with supporting him in that. I just want him to have a dream of contentment and see him actively pursuing it.

5) He must have a sense of pride.

"Dignity" might be the better word to use. I can't date a guy with low self-esteem. Because of some of my co-dependent habits I will be constantly trying to encourage him and it will become annoying and our relationship will go down in flames. He must have an appropriate sense of achievement and pride in what he's done -- con fidence, I suppose. Confidence and the ability to accept the good he's done instead of brushing accomplishments off like they're nothing. This might sound insignificant, but you try spending five minutes with a guy who says you're lying to make him feel better whenever you point out something nice about him. Every. Single. Time. You'll be ready to commit an armed robbery, believe me.

6) He must have a sense of humor.

Most intelligent people I know have senses of humor, but I thought I should make it its own number just 'cause humor is so important to me. If he can't make me laugh then he's not worth my time. Albeit, it's not hard to make me laugh, but to make a well-timed, tasteful joke, give a cute, quirky grin, and laugh along with me is something special. He'll have to be able to laugh at his own jokes (not obnoxiously, of course, but it refers back to confidence to acknowledge something intelligent and enjoyable he's said). Along with a sense of humor must also come the ability to laugh at himself. Not in a degrading way, but he just can't take himself too seriously. When I meet a guy who can laugh off a stupid mistake he's made, my faith will be fully restored in the male species.

"What does ravish mean?" Very young an (ostensibly) innocent -- you can't fool us, Bowie.
On a side note, I have this insane urge to paint henna tattoos on his stomach.

7) He must value relationships.

I don't mean he has to be the most romantic guy around, but he has to be able to see and accept that when you enter into a relationship there's testing out the waters first, of course, but if we're going steady I want him to act like it. This could mean we hold each other up in prayer, share our troubles, or offer advice without being critical. He must be involved -- this does not mean spending every waking minute with me. That would be creepy; there has to be room to breathe. But I expect him to introduce me to his friends (as I will introduce him to mine) and at least do something like hold my hand or put an arm around me in public. He has to understand that there will be problems and he must be willing to work through those with me and bring God into it. He has to be dedicated, I suppose, in short.

8) He must be sensitive.

I don't mean one of those guys who cries at the sun setting because "it's just so beautiful, man." That just sort of . . . worrying. But he can't be cold. I don't care if he acts detached in public really as long as he's able to open up and contemplate deeper things while we're in private or with close friends. He must be in touch with his emotions and ready to share how he's feeling with me. If I care enough about a person to date him, then naturally I'll be curious as to how he's faring emotionally, and offer help if I can.

9) He must like kids.

I don't really need to explain this much. I just think it's weird and a turn-off when people don't like the cheerful innocence kids -- I automatically get creepy, mean vibes from people like that.

Odd pose, but quite attractive . . . . quite attractive . . .

10) He must be clean cut.

Not a lot to this one, really: respectful of females, polite in formal situations, drug- and alcohol-free, polite to my parents and friends, physically composed (wears clean clothes that fit, brushes teeth and hair on a daily bases, takes regular and frequent showers), devoid of any criminal record, etc. Okay, so maybe there are a few things, but certainly nothing outlandish.

Here come the last four and the most superficial:

11) He must be taller than me.

I never really thought this was important to me until I imagined myself dancing with a guy three inches shorter than me. However shallow you may say it is, I would be embarassed to be seen with him. Just a few inches makes all the difference in the world.

12) He must have a nice smile.

I do not mean a million-dollar moviestar smile. It just really irks me to look at uneven, yellowed teeth, much less kiss a man with them. He just has to have good dental hygeine and relatively even teeth. I know, I know: superficial, but it really is a must for me. Don't ask me why, because I'm not completely sure myself.

Lalalala -- he can't hear you!

13) He must have nice eyes.

I just can't stand having to look at someone's piggy, watery eyes. It makes me sad. Even if the color isn't spectacular, I'd like them to be normal in proportion to his face and have that lively shine in them. Slightly big (I could like, actually), slightly small or a little buggy I can deal with, but they must at least look normal, healthy and alive.

14) He must be a normal weight.

By this I am allowing a little overweight -- like twenty-five pounds max. I little pudge can be nice, actually, depending on the guy, but I couldn't deal with a fat boyfriend -- because this would be a food addiction, and addictions kill relationships. See, it's not totally superficial.

I suppose this is a pretty long priority list, but in fairness, I wouldn't expect anything of someone else that I myself was not ready to give. As seen by the descending order of important, looks don't matter nearly as much as personality, because if a guy has a great soul then he'll start looking more beautiful naturally. I suppose this was a bit more of a serious post, but with "summer lovin'" fast approaching, I wanted to do a favor for all my male readers.

Seriously, how can you not love this, even just for the spectacle of it?

P.S. I could think of a whole slew of other things that are nice in a man, but I wanted to just give the skin and bones of "acceptable" and leave the tasty fat to bubble over the fire for my own enjoyment. No, I don't really understand the analogy either. It's late and my brain has checked out for the day.

P.P.S. Yes, I will fit David Bowie into every post possible. Get over it -- there's nothing you can do to stop the inexorable pic spams.

Obviously not real, but I thought it was a beautifully scarring note to end the post on.

Snow White Disgusts Me

I will never ever never let my kids read Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Or watch the movie. Or own the Barbie. Never.

You want to know why?

Because it's disgusting, that's why.

At first glance it seems okay, right? The seven little men living alone in the woods is, admittedly, a little weird, but who are we to judge? But that's at first glance.

The other day, my mom and I were pondering over this particular work of fiction. Why? we asked ourselves, do the dwarfs have such strange names? And why is Snow White so nice? And why did Disney deviate so far from the original story in the creation of the movie?

Then the oh-so-true truth dawned on us. The sick, horrible truth: Snow White is a commercial endorsement of drug use, psychosis, and mild disorders.

Allow me to expound:

Doc

He's the pre-med dropout/alcoholic. After showing up drunk to class for the third time, he was "let go" from his courses. And given a restraining order. When the dwarfs realized Doc couldn't act as their supplier anymore, they moved out into a secluded wood to wean themselves off their addictions. It didn't work. Doctor Dipso's constantly red nose (I mean come on -- he can't get sunburned in a mine), beer belly-paunch, and onsetting wet brain do little to disguise his addiction. (Not to mention, an alcoholic doctor. Come on, man -- spare us the irritating cliche.) Luckily for him, the A-type personality and delusional optimism that keeps his drug circle droogies in line also keeps Grumpy's knife at bay.

Dopey

It's a sad day for humanity if I have to explain this one. He's the hippie pothead, originally too scared to try anything hardcore, and now too brain damaged to care one way or another. He's the luckiest of the seven, as the forest provides a fertile environment to grow and harvest his marijuana, so he never has to go without a fix. The green-suited dope fiend is probably also sharing in Doc's booze supply (note beer belly, red nose, and vague, swimming demeanor).

Sleepy

He's the resident barbiturate addict. Ironically, he wasn't a druggie before moving out to the woods, but his brothers' compulsive and violent withdrawal behaviors sent him running for escape . . . which he found in sleeping . . . all the time . . . with the help of downers. Sleepy has been known, at times, to substitute alcohol for drugs, curling up with a bottle of Scotch (Doc's Scotch) and crying himself to sleep. It's a clinical depressive thing -- you wouldn't understand.

Sneezy

Tell me, what drug is taken through the nose, hurting the nostrils and causing uncontrollable nosebleeds and sneezing? That's right -- he's on a regular diet of Bolivian Marching Powder, this one. Unfortunately for our little cokehead, during the making of Snow White he was in the habit of blowing a rail every night, leaving him with sick hangovers right out some cliche drug movie and nasty-tasting postnasal drip during filming. (His inexplicably retarded behavior -- EXPLAINED: the man was using Doc's liquor stash to counteract splitting cocaine-induced headaches. He did fabulous considering how plastered he was.)

Grumpy

Originally, Grumpy was a heroin addict. Seeing as how his dealer wasn't willing to tramp into the happy bunny forest where the dwarfs relocated to exchange the goods, though, he made the switch to methadone in hopes of coming off his dependency altogether. He failed. As a result, though he's been spared the seemingly inevitable opioid withdrawal syndrome, the methadone has left him and without any of the euphoric effects of heroin, leaving him a right crotchety old jerk (and completely stabilized, mind you, meaning he can continue his pissy behavior right up to his death).

Bashful

A chronic sufferer of social anxiety disorder, Bashful turned to self-medication within the SSRI family of drugs when Doc got his hands on some Paxil. (Side note: Bashful used to be a rather trim little thing, but as paroxetine causes serious weight gain, he's now running (no pun intended) at about forty pounds over.) His condition being so severe that the ingestion of any more pills would result in heart failure, Bashful also frequents Doc's alcohol supply -- Coors Light, to be exact, which keeps a nice buzz going without causing (too) serious an impediment to his mental faculties, and also doesn't contribute (too) heavily to any further weight gain.

(It may be worth mentioning here that most of the dwarfs are burgeoning alcoholics, courtesy of Doc. It was unavoidable, really, given that alcohol is the universal substance to abuse.)

Happy

I'm of the personal opinion that men this morbidly overweight should not even attempt cultivating facial hair, as it makes them out to be some sort of deranged Santa. And by God, I was right. Albeit, in this case, it's more of an overly-friendly a la Captain Kangaroo, potato sack shoe-wearing, strangely shaped hat-sporting deranged elf of Santa, but my point remains, nonetheless. Anyway, I think it should be clear to anyone with two brain cells to rub together that that not only is Happy a chronic overeater, but is also, not surprisingly, on "happy pills." Ecstasy. Lord knows all the symptoms match up: enhanced sense of self-confidence and energy, feelings of closeness and the desire to touch others, as well as peacefulness, empathy, and acceptance. Now if only there were medical terms to explain away that blasted horn he insists on playing, and we might actually be getting somewhere.

Snow White

If you thought the dwarfs were bad, just wait till I fill you in on Snow White. Although she doesn't participate in substance abuse (on a regular basis), Snow White does have deep and concerning psychoses. First and foremost, she displays indulgence in fantasies and escapism (through manual labor) to such an extent that she is barred from reality. We first see this shown in the beginning when she is singing that "one day her prince will come" while performing tedious and straining cleaning under the abusive jurisdiction of her stepmother. These could very well have stemmed from a desperate attempt to put up walls against her stepmother's maltreatment, having evolved in such a way that she has mentally separated herself from this plane. Another point of interest is her weak-to-the-point-of-nonexistent personal boundaries and a thwarted maternal drive that we see manifested when she joins up with the dwarfs. Perhaps these are just subsets of her fantasies (refer to her seemingly inherent need for a prince?), or another thing altogether, but we've got trouble in River City either way.

I won't even bother asking if I've converted you, because I know I have. And because I'm not quite satisfied with the low amount of potential scarring this post already contains, here:

Ms. Bowie wishes you a Merry (very belated) Christmas on behalf of myself.

Oh yeah -- and Happy Valentine's Day and all that jazz. Huzzah. (If you're cynical like me you call it Singles Awareness Day, and we should meet over coffee sometime.)

Lucius Malfoy, Angry, or Captain Kangaroo?

Happy 2009, fellow internet stalkers!

Sorry I haven't posted in more than a month. I really have no excuses, so I'll spare you the bologna sandwich.

Today, I want to do a bit of a human interest post. Hopefully, what I have to say will aid you in dealing with various older men you meet day-to-day (and by older I mean they have 15+ years of existence on you).

In my experience, (and granted, I am a girl) older men respond one of five ways when meeting me: disinterested, pleasant or uncreepily friendly, condescending, angry, or lecherous. I've been known to confuse the last three on many occasions. Perhaps you have as well. This is why I've made up a compare/contrast essay of sorts to help you define whether you should devour his soul in your mind, prepare to flip him the bird, or whip out your Mace (or pepper spray, or taser, or giant wooden club, per your preference).

Is He Condescending?

Though infinitely more annoying than his angry and lecherous cousins, the condescending older man is the safest. He has no interest in you other than to crush your spirit, so your physical safety is assured even though you may feel the disturbing need to hug a razor and listen to The Cure for a disproportionate amount of time afterwards. You can often recognize him by the tilt of his head (chin raised slightly and pointing just a few degrees right) as he looks down at you with a fixed, cold smile that's often accompanied by a smirk following one of the many aloof "mm-hmm"s that wills surely flood your acquaintance.

He is like an angry older man because he has a cold smile and generally detached demeanor that could be mistaken for hostility.

He is like a lecherous older man because he will often have his eyes travel over your body. Though it may be uncomfortable to you, rest assured that this older man is only interested in picking out your flaws so that he can have someone to tear down over martinis with his friends later that night.

"Stop breathing my air."

Is He Angry?

Depending on whether or not he is under the influence of a substance (e.g. alcohol), if you are in a public or private place, and if there are other normal people present, your physical safety may or may not be in jeopardy. Most angry older men can be stilled with a simple "gosh darn you, now frack off!", but it's always a good idea to have that aforementioned giant wooden club ready just in case. He is easily recognized by the tight smile and clenched jaw or a sneer. It's probable he will seem to have problems standing still (i.e. he will often shift from foot to foot, repeatedly pick up and put down a drink or food, twiddle his fingers, scratch various body parts numerous times, etc.).

He is like a condescending older man because his facial expression will always seem to be toeing the line between overly-polite and offensive.

He is like a lecherous older man because you will get the sense that you just got added to some sort of mental list he keeps.

Yes, if he's pulling finger guns on you he's angry.

Is He Lecherous?

You are naked in his mind. He is removing your Levis with his eyes. Though undoubtedly the most mentally and emotionally scarring of the three, lecherous older men are often kept in check from doing any real damage by pesky things like their possible future with a 300 pound, tatted-up cell mate with herpes and a gold tooth. A weapon of self defense is HIGHLY suggested, preferably Bear Mace. Lechers are most commonly recognized by their vague and almost smirking smile, wandering eyes, and languid, overly-helpful disposition.

He is like a condescending man because he will do or say nothing overtly offensive -- rather, his attacks come primarily from body language.

He is like an angry man because he does illegal things in La La Land.

He lives in your closet.

Until next time (which will be in no more than a week, according to my New Year's Resolutions), stay classy world wide web. ;-)