Sunday Phunnies

It’s great to be a guy because …
Our tush is never a factor in a job interview.
Our last name stays put.
The garage is all ours.
Wedding plans take care of themselves.
Chocolate is just another snack.
We can be President.
The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades.
Car mechanics tell us the truth.
We don’t give a darn if someone doesn’t notice our new haircut.
We never have to drive to another gas station because this one’s just too icky.

Same work … more pay.
Gray hair and wrinkles add character.
Wedding dress $2000; tux rental $100.
People never glance at our chest when we’re talking to them.
The occasional well-rendered belch is practically expected.

New shoes don’t cut, blister, or mangle our feet.
Our pals can be trusted never to trap us with: “So, notice anything different?”
One mood, ALL the time.
Phone Conversations are over in 30 seconds flat.
We know stuff about tanks and airplanes.

The remote is all ours.
We don’t have to pretend we’re “freshening up” to use the bathroom.
Bathroom lines are 80% shorter.
Old friends don’t care if we’ve lost or gained weight.
When surfing channels, we don’t have to stop on every shot of someone crying.

We can be showered and ready in 10 minutes.
If someone forgets to invite us to something, they can still be our friend.
None of our co-workers have the power to make us cry.
Flowers and duct tape – and we can fix everything.
We can whip our shirt off on a hot day.

A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase.
We can open all our own jars.
Dry cleaners and hair cutters don’t rob us blind.
We can go to a public toilet without a support group.
We can leave the motel bed unmade.

We can kill our own food.
We get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness.
Our underwear is $10 for a three-pack.
If we’re 34 and single, nobody notices.
Everything on our face stays its original color.

We can quietly enjoy a car ride from the passenger seat.
Three pairs of shoes are more than enough.
We don’t have to clean our apartment if the meter reader is coming.
We don’t mooch off someone else’s dessert.
We don’t have to shave below our neck.

We can drop by to see a friend without having to bring a little gift.
If another guy shows up at the party in the same outfit, we just might become lifelong friends.
We are not expected to know the names of more than five colors.
We don’t have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt.
We are unable to see wrinkles in our clothes.

Our belly usually hides our big hips.
One wallet and one pair of shoes, one color, all seasons.
We can “do” our nails with a pocket knife.
We have freedom of choice concerning growing a mustache.
Christmas shopping can be accomplished for 25 relatives, on December 24th, in 45 minutes.

And yet I am so happy to be a woman!

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