|A Weighty Matter|
Has the wife or girlfriend been on your back lately? Just won’t leave you alone or give you your man-time to be with the guys or to just hang out alone to do your manly stuff in your own personal fortress of solitude? Wouldn’t it be nice if there was a way to get her to leave you alone—when you want to be left alone that is? Well, I may have found just the right tool to get that job done.
Last weekend I was at a block party and a crowd had gathered in front of one of the neighbor’s garage. Inside was a keg of beer and as can be expected it became the focal point of the party. The keg was inside the garage and anyone that wasn’t inside waiting to fill a twenty ounce plastic cup with beer was standing in the driveway, near the open door for warmth. The men were on one side if the driveway, women on the other. Talk of football, purses, NASCAR and bad hairdos floated above the small gathering like gnats on a warm summer night. The alcohol fueled conversations came to an abrupt halt when one of the neighbors came out of the garage holding a beer in one hand and a bathroom scale in the other.
“Hey, we’re all going to get weighed,” said John the cop, in his best Rodney Dangerfield voice.
All the men laughed and then watched as John stepped aboard the scale. Had anyone else but me been paying attention to the women they would have seen a small crowd of ladies slowly backing away from the scale as if it were a live hand grenade that had been tossed into the middle of the crowd. Hoots, hollers and taunts went up from the men as the scale’s needle came to rest on two-sixty-one after a moment of wavering between two-sixty-five and two-fifty-five. Before the second man had stepped up to the scale a rousing game of guess the weight had broken out. By the time the last man had been weighed there wasn’t a woman to be found anywhere. The entire street had become void of any feminine presence.
That’s when it hit me; the idea of how to expel women from anywhere you don’t want them; the man-garage, the game room, anywhere men gather to do masculine things; like watch sports, smoke cigars, play poker or just light some farts. I’ve come up with a necklace consisting of a bathroom scale on a chain that can be worn like a portable talisman. If your buddies are over to watch the game and the little woman feels the need to intrude on your man-party, just hold the scale up to ward her away. She will cower like Count Dracula when faced with a cross.
You may look a trifle stupid walking around with a bathroom scale bouncing off your chest, but hey, you’re a guy, it’s okay to look a little dim-witted.