The Secret Lives of Boys – Part 2

Missed the first part? Find it here: The Secret Lives of Boys – Part 1


So, basically, I had these unrealistic and completely unreasonable expectations for the men in my life.

And then I got married.

Obviously, I didn’t carry all of these unreasonable expectations into marriage with me (because, let’s be honest… if I had, there would have been a blood bath after the first month), but male behavior still bewildered and baffled me. It didn’t help matters that my husband hadn’t grown up with any sisters, but instead 4 overgrown babies of brothers who couldn’t handle much social interaction outside of scratching, farting, burping and making poop jokes. Basically, my in laws were the cast of “Alaskan Bush People” (and that’s only a slight exaggeration). This did not bode well for a girly girl who thought men were already weird in the first place.

Despite this, I never tried to all-out change my husband. (Note to all women everywhere: You cannot, should not and will not ever change your husband/boyfriend/fiance. Stop trying.) Sure, I rolled my eyes at his gross jokes, and showed my disdain when he’d fart in public, and I tried to get him to dress more nicely… but, I never tried to change him. Polish him up a little bit, sure. But change him? Not so much.

At least I didn’t think so…

The funny thing was, when I was around my brother and he would show these same “male” traits, I would just laugh, and then roll my eyes at his wife when she would get mad at him. With my brother, it was funny. With my husband, it was  unacceptable. I realized the disconnect there, but I could never pinpoint the reason for it, nor change it. Why were the same “boy” things okay for my brother to do, but not okay for my husband to do?

In recent years (and especially in the months after my divorce), my brother and I have become quite close. So, it bothered me when I began to notice that the weirdo freak of a brother I had grown up with was turning into a brow-beaten stump of a husband who was supposed to behave properly at all times. In a word, he was whipped. Suddenly the things that my sister-in-law and I would commiserate over (why can’t men pick up after themselves, what’s with their obsession over cars, why do they think it’s funny to tell dirty jokes in mixed company, WHY CAN’T THEY JUST BE NORMAL?!) became reasons to suck the life and personality out of the men in our lives. Suddenly, as a single woman, I wasn’t okay with that. In an attempt to be “normal” and more “acceptable”, my brother was losing the personality that had made him so funny and awesome in the first place.

Had I done the same thing to my husband? Were women doing the same things to their husbands? How long had we been doing this? “Where have all the cowboys gone?” I DON’T KNOW… MAYBE WE “POLISHED” THEM TO DEATH?!

As a single woman, I was suddenly seeing things from a new perspective. And I didn’t like what I was seeing…

*Sigh*

I’d write something if I weren’t feeling so…

Depressed,

Frustrated,

Irritated,

Disgusted,

Pissed off,

(Enter any number of negative emotions here…).

In other news, does anyone want this:

2013-04-06 17.11.06Free to a good home.

He’s been overly needy for my taste, and there’s only so much neediness a person can take before you want to drop-kick the thing. Not that I ever would. I just want to give him away, that’s all. No biggie.

*sigh*

I’m going to go read… or something. Preferably something really depressing so I can feel better about my life.

*sigh*

Thoughts? Ideas? Suggestions?

Blogging Peeps!

I need your help on something.

I’ve been thinking about my weekly “Things That Made Me Go ‘Hmm…'” blurb and discovered that, oftentimes, when left to my own devices, I don’t always have the time or energy to find things worthy of the post every week. A lot of times, I end up compiling a very sad-looking list at the last minute after scrounging around for scraps from YouTube or BuzzFeed.

SO, my idea is this: If you guys happen to come across some really funny,  really interesting, or really thought-provoking pieces/videos/articles/blog posts/memes while surfing the web, and those things make you think, “That is TOTALLY something that should be on Annie’s list this week…” (because I know not a minute goes by where you guys aren’t thinking about me…) send it to me! Send me a note on Twitter, Facebook, e-mail or simply leave a comment right on my blog and tell me all about it. If I find it as funny, interesting or thought-provoking as you do, I will use it and give you accolades of credit for finding it, and a big ol’ shout out to your blog. If I don’t use it… I’ll still give you a shout out for thinking of me. Not sure if it would meet my super high standards? (*snicker*) Send it to me anyway. As long as it has nothing to do with poetry, sex or something wildly inappropriate, chances are I’ll use it. (Sorry, poets. Just… *yawn*.) And if you need ideas of what makes me go “Hmm…” just look at my past posts.

Anyway… no pressure, but if you see something awesome, let me know. If not… I’ll just hate you forever and tell everyone you smell harribly… so there’s always that to worry about.

Over n’ out, peeps.

The Secret Lives of Boys – Part 1

I grew up in a household overrun with women. With 3 older sisters and a take-charge mother who ran the household, it was very much a matriarchal set up. Despite having 1 brother and an emotionally unavailable and wholly uninvolved father, the men were outnumbered and out-ruled – not by design, but simply by happenstance. So, because of the situation I grew up in, boys were always a bit of a mystery to me.

They just didn’t make sense. Poop and fart jokes? Cars and trucks and loud machinery? Taunting, teasing and pulling pigtails? What was with this weird hoodlums? And why, for the love of all that was holy, could they not just sit quietly and color like the rest of the “normal” people in class? I didn’t understand who had allowed these psychos out of their cages to run freely about while destroying everything in sight? Isn’t that the definition of anarchy? What was wrong with these strange creatures?

Because of this fundamental misunderstanding of the male species, I grew up with the misleading notion that boys were “okay” if they could just be tamed, trained and gotten under control. If boys represented anarchy, then girls represented civilized society. Boys were savage, barbaric and primitive. Girls were polished, sophisticated and refined. If boys could be taught how to behave properly and respectably, they were acceptable. If not, they were not worth my time or energy. (Oddly enough, these “rules” applied only to men outside of my family. They did not apply to my brother, and any woman who dared try to “tame” my brother was wholly unacceptable and unwelcome. But I’ll delve into that later on…)

I had nothing but the highest expectations for the men I spent time with: They didn’t drink, they didn’t swear, (They didn’t rat their hair. They got ill from one cigarette. *cough-cough-cough*  Grease? Anyone? Anyone?) they didn’t tell dirty jokes, they didn’t smoke, they respected their father and mother, they excelled in school, they were kind to all animals, they didn’t spit, they opened doors for women, they waited until marriage for sex, they appreciated Chick Flicks, they didn’t look at women lustfully, they didn’t tell women what to do, they loved Jesus, they were patient, they had never tried a single, solitary drug aside of Tylenol or Advil, they didn’t listen to rap or hip hop, they dressed well, always smelled nice and never got their dress clothes dirty. Basically, I expected men to be Jesus. And in my adolescent stupor, I thought these expectations were not only totally reasonable, but also quite necessary, in order to protect myself from scary, farting, swearing men. (Oh, the horrors…)

Clearly, I had all the makings of a cloistered nun.

Basically, I expected men to be perfect. Especially any man I chose to spend my time with. I didn’t see it that way, of course. I saw nothing wrong with wanting a “good guy”… or basically a Mormon Eagle Scout. Because if I had grown up being Miss Lily White, what was wrong with looking for Mr. Lily White?

(Oh, Annie… you were so stupid.) It never occurred to me that men are simply not made that way. They are the raging bulls to our peaceable little lambs. And no amount of taming, training or civilizing is going to change that. Attempting to do so only robs them of their identity and basic humanness. And who wants that?

Apparently, I did…

Babysitting Gig

I have to babysit 17 third graders this afternoon.

I would call it “subbing” but since I’m only there for two hours, I don’t think a whole lot of teaching will be done. Instead, we’ll probably read through a “Weekly Reader”, work on cursive, and I’ll try to keep the boys from ending up in a hog-pile in the middle of the classroom floor. That’s not subbing… that’s babysitting. But the pay is decent, so I’ll take it.

I’m not even going to dress in my trademark “teacher chic”. (Yes, there is such a thing and I invented it, so there.) Instead I’ll just wear my skinny jeans, boots, and a boat neck “favorite tee” from GAP. It really doesn’t matter if I’m only there for two hours anyway. However, I will be wearing contacts and eye makeup for the first time in… a month, maybe? I figure if I ease into it and take it off as soon as I get home, my skin can’t completely flip out and wage an all-out holy war on me. We’ll see.

But 2 Hours? You know how fast 2 hours goes when you’re in a classroom? If I blink, I’ll miss it. Why am I even bothering?

Oh… money… that’s right.

Bloggity Peeps, Rejoice!

Why, you ask?

Because yours truly, just finished her taxes.

Remember when I was all like, “I’m going to do my taxes!” and then all ya’lls were like, “Psh. Yeah… OKAY.”

Guess what. They’re DONE.

BOOM.

WHA?

(Here’s where I do a shout out to Turbo Tax because they “Get your billions back, America!” Wait No. No, that’s HR Block. What is Turbo Tax’s motto anyway? “We work hard so you don’t have to”? No, no that’s Scrubbing Bubbles. I have no idea what their motto is… but they should probably get one, huh?)

So, as a reward to myself, and to help pull us out of the funks we are in known as the “Late February Doldrums Because There Is No End In Sight For This Dang Winter” here are some funnies to make you giggle. Or chortle heartily. Whichevs.

Who doesn’t love Key & Peele? Nobody, that’s who.

Over n’ out, peeps.

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