Heavy Duty
Salad Dressing:
How long does it take you to get ready to go out on a Saturday night? You grab a shirt out of the wardrobe, sniff it to check that it's not too rank, spray on some cologne if it is (because you’re going to be covered in cigarette smoke soon anyway, so what's the point of too clean a shirt, right?), squeeze into a pair of jeans, run the wax through the hair and you're all set. Easy.
Meanwhile, when a girl get ready for a night out on the town, it's like she's leaving the country forever, or going for the most important job interview in her life.
Take my girlfriend, Jeza. The drama starts about four hours before you're supposed to leave the house. She'll stand in front of her wardrobe and flip through the hangers. She'll take out a dress at random, put it up against her body and examine herself in the mirror. For aesthetic reasons that escape me (because I think she'll look hot in that dress), she'll sigh with dissatisfaction and put the dress back into the closet and pull out another one. I remember that dress and know that she's going to look amazing in that one too, but she sighs again and puts it back.
This process will continue for a good half hour by which time she will announce that she has nothing to wear, but she'll worry about it after her shower. And with that, she will disappear into the bathroom for two hours during which she will pluck, prune, pinch and preen before she exfoliates, trims, oils and massages. And then, she'll take a shower.
After which, she will spend some quality time in front of the bathroom mirror examining her damp body for flaws and defects. She will mentally compare herself with every girlfriend of hers who will be at the nightclub that night, Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Aniston and finally, she will contemplate plastic surgery.
I know all this is happening, because every so often, I'll poke our head into the bathroom and she will say that she's not ready yet and to stop bothering her. Meanwhile, I'm already dressed, watched a DVD, finished checking our email, called mum and drunk two cans of beer.
An hour after we were meant to be meeting our friends, the girl have changed outfits twice. And now, she's checking her shoe closet. After that, there's still make-up to put on. And I swear to myself that next Saturday night, I'm just going to stay home.
But that never happens. Because I’m in love. And I’ll never learn.
Discalmer Notice: The above text may be accurate or not; that is, it can give either a true or a false account of the subject in question. However, it is generally assumed that the author of such accounts believe them to be truthful at the time of their composition.
How long does it take you to get ready to go out on a Saturday night? You grab a shirt out of the wardrobe, sniff it to check that it's not too rank, spray on some cologne if it is (because you’re going to be covered in cigarette smoke soon anyway, so what's the point of too clean a shirt, right?), squeeze into a pair of jeans, run the wax through the hair and you're all set. Easy.
Meanwhile, when a girl get ready for a night out on the town, it's like she's leaving the country forever, or going for the most important job interview in her life.
Take my girlfriend, Jeza. The drama starts about four hours before you're supposed to leave the house. She'll stand in front of her wardrobe and flip through the hangers. She'll take out a dress at random, put it up against her body and examine herself in the mirror. For aesthetic reasons that escape me (because I think she'll look hot in that dress), she'll sigh with dissatisfaction and put the dress back into the closet and pull out another one. I remember that dress and know that she's going to look amazing in that one too, but she sighs again and puts it back.
This process will continue for a good half hour by which time she will announce that she has nothing to wear, but she'll worry about it after her shower. And with that, she will disappear into the bathroom for two hours during which she will pluck, prune, pinch and preen before she exfoliates, trims, oils and massages. And then, she'll take a shower.
After which, she will spend some quality time in front of the bathroom mirror examining her damp body for flaws and defects. She will mentally compare herself with every girlfriend of hers who will be at the nightclub that night, Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Aniston and finally, she will contemplate plastic surgery.
I know all this is happening, because every so often, I'll poke our head into the bathroom and she will say that she's not ready yet and to stop bothering her. Meanwhile, I'm already dressed, watched a DVD, finished checking our email, called mum and drunk two cans of beer.
An hour after we were meant to be meeting our friends, the girl have changed outfits twice. And now, she's checking her shoe closet. After that, there's still make-up to put on. And I swear to myself that next Saturday night, I'm just going to stay home.
But that never happens. Because I’m in love. And I’ll never learn.
Discalmer Notice: The above text may be accurate or not; that is, it can give either a true or a false account of the subject in question. However, it is generally assumed that the author of such accounts believe them to be truthful at the time of their composition.
posted by UntrainedNinja at
11:55 AM
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