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Big Differences Between Clods, Guys
I am a guy, and every once in a while I like to celebrate my Guyness. Unfortunately for you, this happens to be one of those days.
I say "unfortunately" based on hard experience with some people (female variety) who confuse Guyness with boorishness, also known as being a clod, or Cloditude.
There are similarities - belching, for instance - but Guyness and Cloditude are not one and the same. Clods think they're the only persons in the room, at the event, on the planet. The person who spills beer on you at a concert and doesn't acknowledge it, or even blames you for getting into the path of his drinking hand? Clod.
(The person who laughs but hands over his bandana so you can dry your face? Guy)
Guys may be a little thick sometimes, but they still care about their friends, their families, and miscellaneous animals, both domestic and main-course types. Guys make mistakes, sure, and sometimes act like they have their heads where it would be physically impossible for them to go. They can be incredibly goofy, if not outright dumb, on occasion. But on the whole they're pretty good people.
So yes, I am a Guy.
We are the designated killers of spiders and catchers of mice.
We can spend hours yanking a cord and fiddling with an engine, trying to start a balky rototiller. The word quit is not in our lexicon. Because of this, we can also spend hours walking around like cavemen, in excruciating pain. Sometimes, the word smart is not in our lexicon, either. However, we are very familiar with the words ibuprofen and chiropractor.
We are Lords Of The Barbeque, artists in charcoal. We believe there is little in the way of food that cannot be improved by the smoky goodness of the outdoor grill. If there was a way to barbeque spaghetti, we'd do that.
Our guy brains are a giant repositories of jokes so stupid they can't be repeated within four blocks of a school, even though all the seventh-grade boys (also known as Future Guys) are telling even stupider jokes in the lunchroom.
When things break, we fix them. Afterward, they sometimes work.
We can describe in detail the engine compartment of a 1962 Studebaker Lark Daytona. We have trouble, however, finding the mustard in the refrigerator.
We believe we are the only persons our households qualified to use the television remote control, but we let the kids borrow it when their favorite shows are on.
We pretend not to like romantic movies. In truth, we have been known to tune in a late showing of Sleepless In Seattle when nobody was looking.
We know batting averages for baseball players so obscure their own mothers don't know they played professional ball.
We couldn't care less what Brad and Angelina named their babies.
We know the following colors: red, blue, yellow, green, orange, purple, white, black. Melon, pistachio, tangerine, butterscotch, kiwi, squash, mango, cotton candy and lemon are not colors. They are jellybean flavors.
There's more, but I won't list it here. The important points are simple: Guys are, in the main, considerate of others (allowing for the occasional slip-up, such as when the Stanley Cup is on) And we clean up good, as Grandma used to say. You'll never see a boor in a nice suit and tie. And we're fun, most of the time. At least, we think so.
I am a Guy. Pull my finger. Hear me roar.
© 2008 Mike Redmond. All Rights Reserved.
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