Don't Stand Too Close to a Naked Man

a tank squadron commander in World War Two, but if that helps his story along, what the hell? Sometimes he gets so immersed in these tales that, after describing his foray behind German lines, he'll also say, 'And then, when I went to Vietnam.. '

Even I wouldn't want to defend that kind of bullshitting.

This kind of bullshit happens everywhere, even in publishing. Ever read The Celestine Prophecy, a bunch of New Age homilies disguised as a travelogue? Carlos Castaneda had something he wanted to tell us, but he knew we wouldn't believe it if he just told it to some professor at Cal State. So he made up this elaborate fiction. Is it lying? Bullshit? (Lawyers and actors make a living like this.) I think all three are the same.

This is probably why, no matter how many times I tell my wife I've been on the space shuttle, she doesn't believe me.

- -

Live with a woman for only five minutes, and any man will realize that each sex perceives the world in a completely different way, despite sharing the same five senses. Women are hypersensitive to many things, and dull as a brick to others. And they would say the same about us.

I can hear a machine bearing going out from about a mile away. I live in a big house, and once I could 'feel' that the compressor on the furnace wasn't functioning correctly. I kept saying 'What is that noise?'

My wife said, 'What noise?'

'Can't you hear it? Ack, ack, ack, ack, ack, ack. .'

Finally she said, 'Well. . Suzie cleaned the furnace yesterday.'

Cleaned the furnace! I knew it. I raced to the basement, took one look at the furnace, and it was obvious that somehow the insulation was torn off the filter. It was hanging down into the fan, making the fan very heavy on one side, which burnt out the bearing and made it chirp like a little bird in a big cat's mouth. Had it continued it would have frozen up and the furnace would have blown sky high and everyone would have died in an inferno hotter than the surface of the sun.

I'm not bullshitting. It's a good thing I was around to detect the problem. Even if my wife had heard the bearing, she would no more have taken the access panel off the furnace than anyone else in their right mind. But I removed it because once you get inside things aren't that difficult to figure out. And once I got back from the hospital, I was sure that that was not the thing I should have touched.

- -

Women have a problem with loud and soft. There's no sense buying a stereo with a woman in the house. The volume is never low enough unless it's off, unless they're drinking with their girlfriends.

'Honey? Turn that song up. I like that.'

And then when her consciousness returns, 'God, it's loud in here!'

'You asked me to turn it up a minute ago.'

I hate the volume so low that I can hear my breathing.

The worst part is trying to watch TV late at night, in bed. Everything is always too loud. Not just the TV, which does tend to vary drastically in volume as I surf through the channels. I can't read either. Turning the page makes too much noise. I'd fart, but she might bolt up, half asleep, and dial 911.

I finally got a remote headset and solved the problem.

Now the flickering screen bothers her. Light, dark, light, dark. I thought people slept with their eyes closed.

I think my wife is sending me a message. 'Either go to sleep at the same time, or do your stuff in the living room.'

- -

Women are always cold. Chilly. 'She's got a chill. Are you chilly? I'm a little chilly.'

Men never even use the word. 'I'm freezing my butt off. Okay?'

My wife says I'm clammy. We're in bed and she's going, 'You're warm. You're clammy. I'm chilly. Isn't it a little chilly in here?'

I've always got a little sweat going, so there's not much I can do about it. Thank goodness they've now got cars that have smart dual thermostats. I keep my side cold and her side warm. She'd rather have the whole car warm just to make me uncomfortable, but that's a control thing.

If you want to see what I mean about these temperature differentials, try taking a bath with a woman. You could boil fish in a woman's bathwater. You've got to use your balls as a thermometer and do Sumo wrestler deep knee bends to see if your jewels get too warm. By the time you're in, the water's lukewarm, and she's out.

My wife and I were in a Miami hotel once, trying to sleep, but running wind sprints to the room thermostat instead. When I finally turned it off it was 98 degrees. This was the middle of summer. Maximum humidity. It was so damn hot that I looked like I had malaria. I had a glaze on and there were yellow flies circling my head. I had to have a big bottle of quinine next to the bed.

Meanwhile, she's got the comforter up around her neck, going, 'Are you chilly at all?'

I said, 'Look at me. I've got cracked lips, I've got that desert pallor.' I looked horrible. Turns out she was chilled because she had her period. As we know, a man can't understand that unless he's in a woman's body.

So don't even try.

- -

There's not a woman reading this book who's ever had her butt sticking in the air and a flame shooting out of it. This is a primary difference between women and men. Men will actually light a fart. Yes, I know you women are saying, 'Wait, wait!' But it's true. Ask your husband.

Women don't think of things like this. I've known my wife twelve years and she hasn't ever farted, much less blown a torch out of her butt. At least, not that I know of. I don't ask her to tell me when it happens, either, but you'd think once every few years you'd hear a noise. And you know women don't say to other women, 'Helen, come over here, pull my finger.'

Can you imagine women lighting farts?

'Uh, Janet? Put a cap in it. This is a bridge club, not a refinery.'

Women never go out of the house with a booger in their nose, either. Think about it. You've never seen it. I always have boogers in my nose. Before important meetings my wife says, 'Tim. .'

'What? Oh oh.' How do you miss a booger as big as a moose? Simple. I don't look in the mirror. I've got whiteheads, hairs growing out of my ears, and my wife is just like a baboon, plucking and pulling at me.

'Get away!'

Women are always looking at themselves in the mirror. Men look once in a while. We get about five feet away, angle ourselves till we find a position that looks pretty cool, and that's it. Men as a rule think they're far better looking than they are. Women, as a rule, think they're far uglier than they really are. Men find a pose and freeze: 'I look pretty goddamn good at that angle!' This is one reason bald guys can even walk out of the house. Angles.

Women squint about a millimeter from the mirror and find stuff that dermatologists don't even want to look at. Squeezing, popping, fidgeting. They come out of the bathroom looking like you beat 'em up! They've got little blue marks all over their faces.

'How do I look?'

I want to say, 'You look like hell.' But you tell them that and it causes another zit, so it's 'Yeah, you look great.'

Women don't believe you anyway. Not when they've got mirrors that make their nose hairs look like timbers.

Women don't burp, either: 'Hey Helen, blaaaaat!'

Men are chronic burpers. My brother has turned it into an Olympic event. One Thanksgiving he did a blow burp across the table, just a 'bluuuuuhhhh.'

'Oh, man. Was that you? Good one! I think you knocked Grandma in the soup with that one. Yup, she's down!'

And women don't learn how to spit. Men have to get their hawking act together early. You can't graduate to manhood otherwise. I'd love to see my Gram and Aunt Rose burping and spitting.

'My, my, that cheese ring was rich, wasn't it?'