Making a Theory Into Law (and THONGS!!!)

This was on my old website. The actual event happened in 1995, if memory serves me correct.

Making a Theory into Law

I wouldn't even call it road-rash; I've had carpet-burns that looked worse than this. But let me qualify all of this by saying that I was hoping for much more. I started a new teaching job around two months ago, and part of the deal with starting a new job is that you have no time off for the first 90 days. For those of you in Canada who can't do the math, 90 days is three months and that means I have another 30 days, or another month, before I can take some time off. Anyone who knows me knows I am all about taking time off, coming to work late, leaving work early, working on the web page during work, and thinking about not being at work while I am in fact at work. I figured that breaking a major appendage while on a road-trip would be the perfect excuse for me to take some time off and get to relax. But I failed miserably.

But the weekend road-trip wasn't a total failure; I did prove a theory of mine. That's right; I turned a theory into law. It is now unbreakable, and punishable by courts. You may have gotten the impression that I do pretty well with the ladies. That is true for the most part, at least romantically, but ladies that I am not involved with romantically or sexually sometimes tend to find me as a bit harsh and abrasive, and I've often wondered why that is. My theory (now a law) doesn't explain why that is, only when it happens. Typically, my experiences with the fairer sex in non-physical capacities have all started well enough and then horribly careened out of control until one of us is left in tears or cussing the other out. I have found that this downhill process has to do with the number 4. It always occurs in the 4th hour, 4th day, 4th week, etc. For some reason this paranormal 4th hour has plagued me my entire adult life.

During my road-trip where I was intending to seriously injure myself, I was in a car with 3 other stand-up, honest, male individuals... and one female. Like my theory goes, all is well for the first 3 hours and 59 minutes, then it happens. We were talking about college football after seeing a game and I mentioned that I watched a particular game that they were discussing. I explained that I was just sitting at a bar, eating food and watching the game when a hottie contest broke out. I was a victim of hottie fever, what the hell was I supposed to do? I was a spectator at one of the most strategically sound coups ever. The hottie wasn't going to win until she played the "thong card". Just like an Olympic champion, the thong-girl knew what it would take to win; she dug deep and found the courage to do what had to be done. As the saying goes: the thong always wins.

Needless to say, the girl in the care with us became very upset with me. Why get upset with me? I wasn't wearing the thong! She pointed out that mentioning the word "thong" in context with a female was degrading to her gender. I said that guys in San Francisco wear thongs and I don't find it degrading (Check that, I find it utterly disgusting, but I didn't want to make things worse so I tried a little diplomacy to try and smooth the situation). I would think calling her "harpy" would be degrading; "thong" is just a word.

Then she said, "that shit isn't cool", and thought evil thoughts about me while staring at the back of my head. I've never seen a chick this upset, ever. She was livid. I'm just lucky that she was female and was probably incompetent with firearms (I found out later in life that some females are too competent with firearms, but that is another story).

Then she called me a "pig". She didn't call me a pig to my face, but she did call me a pig. I think the female population needs to take a long hard look inwards. First they wear the thong, and then they get upset at me because of it. Why the dichotomy? Where is the compassion? We should be celebrating the thong, not calling me a pig! The thong equals power. The thong-girl is going to get a lot farther in life than the nasty pig-calling girl. I think she feared the thong. Viva la thong!