Women Must Get Stomach Aches

I don't get women. There. I said it.

Unlike the majority of men - as well as homosexual women - I run into, I admit my lack of understanding when it comes to the opposite sex. I would've said "fairer sex," but we all know women, when speaking generally, are much less important than us men in the overall scheme of things.

Why don't I get women, you ask? I don't get them for a multitude of reasons; dress, makeup, having to go to the restroom in pairs, crying, musical-tastes, having to eat Lean Cuisines each day in the hopes of shedding 70 pounds, their desire to quit giving oral sex as soon as they get engaged, and much, much more. I don't get why women - again, in general - bottle everything up, only to unleash frustration/anger/fear upon you 1 minute before you have to leave for a 5-day trip with your friends. They had, let's say, 12 months to vent, even the ability and time to simply "not allow you to go," but alas, they wait until your foot is literally out the door and WHAMMO, they unleash a rant, including tears, as to why you shouldn't go, how immature it is that you actually agreed to go and want to, and that any self-respecting man, with a heart full of love for his wife/lady, shouldn't have to have her say no - he should want to.

But, aside from women being crazy, I also think they may be unsafe. Here's why:

Women, it seems, do not pass gas. At least in public, around men, or during any hour they are awake. Men, on the other hand, are ripping ass as they read this for god's sake. Hell, in the time it takes me to type this, I will have broken wind 43 ti... whoops, 44 times.

Men have no shame. Take my coworker, Jeremy, for example. At work, he'll drop wolf bait in our cube and laugh in blissful glee as he watches me a) sniff at the first signs of a "stink" b) curl my face up in horror and c) cough as his vile stench overpowers the cubical I reside in. He has no fear, nor worry, that another coworker, not even a female one, may enter our space as this smell lingers. Nope, couldn't care less.

Women, on the other hand, will, I imagine, hold gas in. It could be weeks before they are confident that no man will invade their space until a good 12 weeks have passed from the passing of the gas. I once had to fart in a meeting and was forced to fidget said gas from leaving my body for an hour. My stomach cramped up. My forehead started sweating. My eyes flickered. My anus clenched and clenched and as soon as I was able to leave, I released the pent-up "winds of change."

Women eat what we men eat, correct? They basically have the same body parts - at least in terms of the digestive track.

It's funny though. Women do fart. That's true. However, women will go to places they know no man would ever go, such as a TJ Maxx, and, knowing full well a man won't be there, they'll all drop anchor as they shop the clearance racks.

But uh oh! What happens when a man enters this fart-Xanadu? I have, from time to time, ventured into a TJ Maxx-type store and have been overwhelmed by fart cloud upon fart cloud. Mouth fulls of the stuff. So much that the actual air quality in these stores hovers around that of a mid-July 90-degree afternoon.

But nothing tops last night's venture to the Cliff Road Target store to pick up a - and no, I'm not lying here - satin blouse for my wife who was at home with our two sons and "just had to have something for her new suit. I made my way into the women's clothing section and as soon as I made my way about 3 racks deep, I ran straight into a cloud of air-feces SO powerful, my knees gave way and I bent over almost to a fainting-level. This wasn't simply a fart, but a fart for the ages, my friends. This was one which HAD to have been festering for weeks inside this particular woman. It actually had texture. When you think about it on an atomic level, I ate shit. I actually ate poop. Yeah, it was that bad.

Adding to the misery was the fact that it appeared as if I DID IT! As the culprit had left her "work behind" and I was the only one there, when a small pack of young women entered the area and gasped in horror at the smell before them, surely they thought it was me.

Women, for the sake of your bodies, your fellow cohabitants on this planet, and that of the air quality of our many fine discount stores, please make it a point to fart on a frequent basis. Seriously, we won't mind. Hell, fart in our faces like my male counterpoints do. We'll all laugh and have a gay old time.

Please, go and fart... for the children.