Women's Corner

You know it is only fair to let women's opinions to be heard. Hee Hee This section is dedicated to submissions given to me, either stories or ideas or bashing me because I "dis" women, theories, etc. If you are a woman and want your comments to be heard, send them to me via email. I will not edit them unless they are mean to others, except me.

My theory on Why Does It Take Women So Long To Get Ready is because we do other things while we are getting ready. I was thinking about this and say if I get ready here in the afternoon (like the night we all went out for V-day dinner), I was on the computer while getting ready, then my mom called; so that stalled some time...harder to do things while holding a phone and talking to her. Girls were also in and out, so we chit chatted. when I am getting ready...I try to put a few things away or may pick up my room a tad now that is not all of the time...but some of the time. I know sometimes...I realize my pants or shirt need ironed....so I take them off and iron them....where as guys....just go w/ the wrinkled look or if say, I dunno....okay, say socks do not match....I search for a new pair....guys go with the mis matched pair. Women get nice-clean clothes out to wear each day.....we don't just wear what was laying on the floor. Now---some of these comments may not be true to all men, but for a lot of men this is true.

“Around the mysteries of the female psyche lies a veil which is best left undisturbed.” – Little Women

Washington, PA: So, curious males of the world, you ask why does it take women so long to get ready? Well, while your theories are charming, they are, unfortunately, not true. Males are constantly mystified by woman, not only by her action but just by tiny mannerisms. How, you wonder, can girls take a pencil, stick it in their hair and have it hold the hair up? My answer- 'tis a trick of the female trade your tiny pea-sized brains could never possibly understand.

It takes women quite some time to get ready to go out. This is due largely to the fact that we can’t shut up. You see, whilst preparing to start getting ready, we first must make sure we have the outfit we’re going to wear picked out; said outfit must be ironed, and must have the proper accessories also picked out- the right shoes are vital. Without the right shoes, the outfit is nothing. Shoes are to a woman’s outfit what Rolling Rock is to a man watching football. Then, of course, the woman must tell everyone that she is going to get ready. “I’m going to take a shower now, okay?” she tells all her roommates.

Then there is the actual getting ready process. The hair must be washed and conditioned, teeth must be brushed, legs must be shaved, lotion must be applied, and so on and so forth. Throughout this process, the phone may ring several times, and being female, one cannot just simply say, “Hey, look, asshole, I’m trying to get dressed here, would you leave me alone?” but rather inquire as to the caller’s well-being and chitchat about whether or not the caller is going out tonight, as well, and if so, where. And there are the roommates- constantly barging in and wanting to borrow something; if it’s not a pair of pantyhose, it’s your hairdryer, if it’s not your lotion it’s your lip gloss. Or perhaps you are the mooch and the one who is barging in and wanting to borrow- either way it takes up a lot of time. And, of course, while you’re in the presence of your roommates, you must inquire as to where and what they're going to be doing tonight, etc.

Then, there’s the phone chain. “Okay, are you ready? Where are we meeting at and when?” She must call all her friends and make sure that everyone is ready and that everyone knows where to meet and when. This could take another 45 minutes, at least, because there’s always that one person who’s ‘almost ready’. “I just need to blowdry my hair and do my makeup!” you can hear her shouting in the background, and you sit down and try not to get your new pants wrinkled because you know it’s going to be awhile.

So, really, what it all boils down to, is that men are anti-social and have one-track minds; girls, on the other hand, like to actually talk to people, and actually care about things other than sex, hence the drawn-out process of preparing for a night out on the town.

But why? You maybe wondering. Honestly, man, I don’t know. Take last weekend, for example. My sorority had a joint party with a frat at a hotel a few blocks from campus. I spent a good hour and a half getting ready- showering, drying my hair, then putting hot rollers in my hair, doing my makeup, picking out the perfect outfit (these new red pants from Express and a black top), finding the right shoes and accessories, and then trying to round everyone up to get going. And you want to know what happened? My curls fell because it was so hot in the room, the hemline of my pants got all dirty from the inch deep pool of beer on the floor, I got mascara in my eyes, and my roommate’s boots still make sticky smaking sounds when she walks.

So why do we do this, you may be wondering? Well, I’ll tell you why. Because if we go to the party in regulation college hooded sweatshirt and sweatpants, we know you boys won’t want to dance up on this, if you get my drift. So until you boys stop drooling over Britney Spears and start idolizing the woman who throws on a Gap tee-shirt and jeans and declares herself ready for life, we’re gonna put ourselves through torture every weekend to impress you.

I sat on the package in Wal-mart for what seemed like weeks. But THEN someone came and purchased me! It was a lady, I think- I could smell her perfume through my cardboard box.

The next thing I saw was indeed a site to behold: a bathroom. I had heard about these places but had not experience one myself. This place was wide and spacious . . . There were mirrors everywhere, and products! I can’t begin to name the products! There were at least 447 products on the counter alone, and I hadn’t even seen the cabinets!

The first time I was used, my owner dropped me sixteen times. She kept saying “oops!” and just picking me up. Can you believe the nerve?

Anyway, I like living here in the bathroom. It is a good thing I don’t have a nose, though, because that sucker would be bothered to high heaven. I mean, that place probably smells like a tropical rainforest.

I like being a hairdryer, but I bet my life would be easier if I was owned by a man.