To My Female Readership

Be thankful you are a woman. There are many things you will never experience because of that. Labour pains, a monthly ride on the cotton pony, and guys that smell you on the subway aside, be thankful you are a woman. Today, this very afternoon, two of my dad’s friends came for a visit. Just as they were arriving my girlfriend was leaving. I kissed her goodbye and waved as she left the driveway. While walking my dad’s two friends to the yard where my dad was, one of them asked, “How’s the fit?” I was walking beside him, I turned and looked at him with a confused expression. “The fit! The fit!” he said, as he proceeded to take the index finger his left hand and push it through the curled fingers and palm of his right hand.

Gross.

.....He then went on to produce T.M.I. (too much information)
“When I was 16, I used to do it all night. Before I was sixteen, all night! Until the rooster crowed in the morning.” I smiled and said, “oh yea?” acting interested, but I probably wouldn’t win an Oscar for the performance.
.....Why do old men feel it’s important that I know how much they did it as a kid? Am I supposed to jump on the conversation and say, “YEA? WELL I’M DOING IT RIGHT NOW!” I know, I’m generalizing, but in my life this has probably happened to me 2-3 times a year since I turned 15.
.....Maybe you’re thinking that these men are just crude. Maybe you’re thinking they’re uneducated. Maybe it’s true, but it’s happened to me at York as well. (P.S. I'm not saying my dad is dumb. He's brilliant, his friends are retards.)

.....I was just leaving my Linguistics course that I was taking for the 2nd time that I would end up dropping weeks later when I recognized a mature student who used to tell really bad jokes in my “Ancient Philosophy and Civilizations” class. He was headed my way. Being the nice young fellow that I am, I said Hello. Paul, that was his name, took this as invitation to begin a conversation with me. It went like this:

.....“You listening to music?” Paul asked.
.....I had an ear bud in my right ear. “Yup!”
.....“Hope it’s under *** decibels.” I can’t remember what number he said because I don’t know what’s in the safe range.
.....“I have no idea.” I said.
.....“I did a lot of things in my life, I drank a lot and did a lot of drugs, but I made sure to take care of my ears.”
.....Feigning awe at his sage wisdom of protecting ones hearing “Good for you! I’ll probably be deaf by 40.”
.....Paul chuckled, “Where you going? Going to drink some beer?”
.....It was 10:30 in the morning.
.....I looked at him, furrowing my brow and displaying that timeless you’re kidding me expression saying, “It’s 10:30 in the morning.”
.....Paul chuckled again. “Where you going then? Gonna go look for some pussy?”
.....Yes, he actually said that.
.....I felt like backing away because harmless, bad joke telling Paul had just revealed him self to be a dirty old man. Without missing a beat he blurted out, in a lower tone, “I used to chase a lot of pussy when I was younger. Listen, what do you call the useless skin around the vagina?”
Still shocked, I shrugged.
.....“The woman.” He laughed, I half-laughed. “I gotta get going, you have a good day.” He said. I told him to have a good day, then walked away feeling like I needed an enema in my ears.

.....This isn’t the only reason why you, my female readership, should be thankful for having the chromosomal order of XX, but it’s one of them.