Just as men and women respond to humor differently (look for the link in yesterday's post) we also -- shocker -- respond to stress differently. In this story, it says that women eat sweets and chocolates when they are stressed, whereas men go for pizza and steaks. Women, the story says, go for sweets and chocolates because it raises their levels of saratonin -- that stuff in your brain that keeps you from sitting around in your room and writing crappy high school poetry ("The demon midday moon laughs at me as I walk these halls, my feet strapped to concrete blocks..."*). But men go for pizza and steaks because... uhm... it doesn't say.
I'm inclined to believe women did the research, because it implies that men do things for no particular reason.
My wife tends do take on the brunt of the cooking and cleaning in my household, which means that I have very little leeway when it comes to complaining about things or getting my way. If I want a steak or a pizza, the child bride possesses undefeatable veto power. In practice, I never really notice -- but I can't help but feel a wisp of melancholy for the emotional capital I don't possess.
Spare a thought, then, for poor Brandon Eneriz, whose wife lost 40 pounds and worked three jobs so the couple could make a down payment on a house. She owns his ass now.
"Honey, I was thinking that maybe..."
"Right. I was not thinking. I will sit here quietly until I receive my next command."
Rural Indiana men have trouble using condoms properly. Make your own jokes.
In Thailand Wednesday, several hundred easily-amused people showed up for a panda wedding. But because pandas are godless heathens who want to live in sin, they didn't actually get married -- "two mascots dressed as pandas and took the vows on behalf of the bears."
This is actually very similar to how my wife and I got married; I hired someone to dress as Rachel and take the vows in her place.
"Hey, Rachel. You and I are married."
"My ass we are. Clear off before I call the police."
"Maybe you should take a look at this marriage certificate -- we're married. And here's a few pictures of our wedding. See? There you are."
"That is a 400-pound bearded man in a veil."
"Yeah, well. He was the best I could do on short notice."
I'm probably the last person on the planet to have seen the video of two Chinese blokes lip-synching to the Backstreet Boys. The element that amuses the hell out of me is the third fellow, with his back to the camera. He can't be bothered to turn around just once?
One of the evil super geniuses at my benevolent employer each year puts together a collection of "Best of" lists. The Best of 2005 List is already under way -- it will grow considerably over the next month or so.
I thought this story about one of Minnesota's oldest prisoners was interesting. I especially like the idea of a grumpy old guy wandering around a prison bitching at everyone.
I don't think I would really mind if someone stole my identity after I died. In fact, I kind of like the idea -- especially if my identity were stolen by someone else after the original ID thief died. With the help of a handful of ne'er-do-wells, I could -- in a legal sense -- still be alive and applying for credit cards 400 years from now.
*While that is not a line I ever wrote in high school, it pretty much embodies the crappiness of everything that was written.