Women

You know how women are sensitive about their age? 'Sensitive' is a bit of a euphemism here, though not quite as much as 'bit.' They're like third degree burn victims. The damaged nerves lie directly in the memory bank next to "Age: "

But this doesn't go for everyone. It appears to only affect women up to a certain...maturity, though the closest guess I have for that certain age is a 30 year range: 50-80. I would have narrowed it down but for a known case that throws the chart. One of my grandmas is around 70, plus or minus 10. She still hangs onto that last sensitive nerve ending. And believe me, that nerve ending is about as sensitive as an eyeball is to a fork.

Men, on the other hand, have no such problem. Strange? Not really. This cartoon, which you've probably seen before, explains all.



The key here, obviously, is the abundance of narcissism in the male psyche, and the equal but opposite feeling - eternal self-loathing - in the female. This cartoon could be remade to show that effect in the "age sensitivity" problem. This guy:


undoubtedly has a residual self-image that looks like this young Tom Cruise:

Can you imagine what the residual self-image of young Tom Cruise is? I can, but I don't like to post pictures of myself online.

(I will not show the counterpart images for women for reasons of personal safety)

Anyway, this may all be what snooty vocabulary dorks call 'moot,' because recent evidence points in another direction. It now seems entirely possible, no, plausible, NAY!, statistically and scientifically incontrovertible, that women are just completely bazonkers:

Pei: they say, if people dream of someone hurt their feelings in dreams, they will get angry about that person in real world. true?
Mark: of course not
Pei: maybe only women then
Mark: u would get angry at someone if they made u mad in a dream?
Pei: I would , and I know it's insane
Mark: i would ask them to tell me what i said in the dream, so i could say it in real life
Mark: then they wouldn't feel bad about being mad, or about being insane
Pei: what? u want to say it again in real life?
Mark: i deserve to say it, if they're going to be mad at me

QED.
PS: Didn't I say I was charitable?

Mario: do you think you can feel pain when you're asleep?
Mark: definitely
Mario: psh, there's no way you can
Mark: can too!
Mario: can not!
Mark: can too!
Mario: can not!
Mark: can too!
Mario: can not!
Mark: can too!
Mario: can not!
Mark: can too!
Mario: can not!
Mark: can too!
Mario: can not!
Mark: can too!
Mario: can not!
Mario: i'll prove it to you. you'll wake up a bloody mess tomorrow and you'll have no idea how it happened
Mark: deal
...
Just went to Target and bought a new spiked baseball bat to make the bet more fair, because I sleep so soundly. Mario's taking practice swings. Can't wait to win!

Blah and Blah

Ohhhhh Shaymalayma. I was wrong about you. You managed to make me laugh with your stupid stupid movie.

Mario left today, I think. I guess we'll find out soon.

Chun uploaded a bunch of pictures today, from senior ball, our trip to Maine, so I freed up some time in my busy schedule for some narcissism. Our house is already a narcissist's dreamhouse - wall-length mirrors in every bedroom - but when you're as special as me, you can't help wanting to be surrounded by yourself from all sides.

The trip to Maine, in case someone doesn't know, was an extreme adventure into mother nature. For four days, twelve of us (6 guys, 6 girls) camped out, without even so much as a firepit(!), in a beautiful home in Acadia National Park.
There was only one Wii, two TVs, central heating, and a half dozen bedrooms worth of accomodations, but luck favors the brave. We managed to survive the harsh conditions by always looking for that silver lining - the Stop & Shop at the end of the driveway, our two cars, and 12 credit cards. Everyone made it out more or less alive, and no one got pregnant from the late night orgies. Still, I wouldn't recommend it.

Almost got roped into a Dickens movie today, an idea that could only have spawned from the Masterpiece-Theater-zealot mind of my materfamilias. At the last moment I was stricken with a sudden case of jaw-breaking yawns and I was mercifully allowed to go to bed. Dickens stayed downstairs and entertained my mother for the next two hours. Dad didn't even put up a fight, he just went straight to bed and cried himself to sleep.

Think I'll go to Barnes and Noble tomorrow. It's time to get disillusioned with Queen.