There are just some things that are so infuriating to a woman that they can quite easily bring on sporadic and early on-set PMS. The sales lady who recommends a bigger size or that (even worse) won’t let you even TRY on something because she’s afraid you’ll damage or stretch it – I believe they save a special place in hell for this particular parasite. Or the eedjut who shakes his glass when it’s empty expecting that, because you have boobs, you should jump up and refill his drink like a 1950’s housewife hosting a cocktail party for her husband’s business associates. It’s 2013 blokes, are you serious?
I’m not really too concerned with these twats, why? Because they are just that – big, ignorant twats. And there’s not a whole lot to debate on the topic. What has really been tweaking my melon, is a topic that gets tempers flaring at dinner tables around the world, and you needn’t go much further than your driveway to play subject in this war of the sexes. Man vs Woman on the road is an ongoing argument that can get more heated than a World Summit on climate change.
Firstly I’d like to open the floor with my very biased female opinion. The way I see things is that woman and men are very different sensory creatures, cavorting on completely different wavelengths at times. I’m no behavioural expert but from what I’ve read in countless books and experienced in real life, men tend to see a more direct bigger picture while woman take their time colouring in the details and immersing themselves in the process. Obviously I’m generalising. While I think men are far more gung ho, making them reckless and impulsive on our roads, I think woman can be equally measured in their tendency for careless and indecisive driving behaviour. While way more men wrap their cars around poles and end up with ridiculous speeding fines, a woman’s car is inevitably scratched and dinged with half her wardrobe in the boot. See? We’re just different. Not better or worse, just plain old different.
We also VIEW things differently. My car is but an extension of my closet that plays nice music and gets my where I need to be. I don’t care about how fast it can go or what mags (Is that even the right word? Case in point) it’s got on. I couldn’t care less… I care about it fulfilling its function and complimenting my image. A man’s car is an extension of his autonomy, it’s his beast and it’s a fast and powerful representation of his testosterone levels.
In my research for this article I noticed a parallelled opinion with what I’ve always thought. In terms of major traffic offences and fines, men take the cake. But in terms of fender benders and minor offences – woman are more to blame. Woman are far more emotional in their driving, taking a passive aggressive stance to road conflict whereas men deal more directly with these kinds of problems. What does this mean? It means us woman slam on our hooters and scream profanities behind the safety of our wind shields, a lot. Which let’s face it, is not conducive to healthy road behaviour. Nor is the amount of people testing positive for alcohol at road blocks - women representing 42% compared to 58% among men according to the SADD (South Africans Against Drunk Driving) website.
I can only find one thing that we all have in common across the board - everyone thinks that they (their race, their gender, their age) are the best category of drivers on our roads and that they can tell you countless stories to prove their argument. In my opinion, there are only two categories – not male vs female, boer vs blackie, toppie vs lightie or BMW vs Merc… There are just drivers vs KAK drivers, and really that could be anyone. It could even be you, dare I say.
So instead of talking about how shit woman are behind the wheel or shooting off statistics about how insurance companies have the highest premium for men… go to your iTunes, compile a driving playlist that you can sing along to (Something with some Billy Joel, Alanis Morrisette and Jack Johnston), burn it onto a CD, wind your window down and GET OVER IT. In our life times we are ALL going to be the dumbass who reversed into a tree or the boitjie who thought it was real clever to start a car chase with the metro cops - in the bigger scheme of things I’d like to think it depends more on the person behind the wheel than the X and Y chromosomes in his/her DNA.
On a lighter note:
Ah, there’s the rub
It’s January and if you’re not starting a new job you’re going back to an old one (what’s worse?). The decadence of December is long gone and in its place are those buggers you run away from at the start of the festive season, the worst culprit being: Stress. I found this great step by step guide on giving a sensational foot massage on the web. Never mind prezzies, the thing to give your girl in Jan is a KILLER foot massage after a long day at the office.
Keeping it low key
It’s happened again. You’re entire January entertainment budget was blown entering 2013, your liver literally quivers at the very thought of going on a bender and you’ve only JUST gotten your head around the idea of being in a routine again. So I have the perfect couple outing solution! Every Wednesday at The Bioscope is Mystery Movie night where they screen old classics. Tickets? There are no tickets. Buy anything from Chalkboard, the spot next door, and get free access into the film. Reserve your space by buying a pizza online via the ticketing system. How cool? I’ve gotta try this out.
Between the Sheets in Jan
DO something new. Anything. If you’ve never blindfolded your betty, give it a bash. If you’re dying to talk dirty, make it happen. Step out of your comfort zone and challenge yourself in the bedroom! It’s a new year dammit!
DON’T lose your holiday spontaneity, remember a few weeks ago when you were at it like rabbits? No one expects things to stay the same, routine is inevitable... but you don't have to bring it into to the bedroom.