The Delights of Being a MAN (part 1)

On a previous post, I commented (at probably too great a length) on some of the differences between ourselves and our lovely ladies.

Toilet Humour Seriousness

I try to keep a humorous vein running through most of my posts.

There is a reason for this.

Life throws so many damned nasty and unpleasant experiences at us, that I see it as my duty to help alleviate the gloom, and help myself and others to view the lighter side of life.

It also helps that I'm a deeply cynical, old Scottish Sod (M' Beloved's words, not mine)

But sometimes, a gleam of truth shines through.

This is an example.

Shoes

What is it with women and shoes?

Melbourne beckons

I was wrong.

The Skills of Appeasement

My beloved was unhappy.

My beloved was unhappy with me.

My beloved was unhappy with me for a completely unknown reason which probably contravenes all of the universally accepted laws of cause and effect.

I Love My Wife

WARNING:
This post contains items of a vaguely sexual nature, and may offend those of a highly sensitive and anti-heterosexual character. 
Any men who have not yet figured out that the WOMEN have the upper hand or how life really works should not read any further. 

If my daughter is reading this, DON'T. 
Log off and go and make his tea; you really don't want to know what happens between your Mother and Me in the Hours of Darkness.


I love my wife.

I really do.

Honestly.

No Question.

But sometimes to quote a friend from Yorkshire, "She makes it bloody hard"

Nothing to do with the text, but a very cool picture.  It's a bloke sort of thing

I was late home on Friday, finalising the reports and the relief for Monday, and my beloved had been looking forward to going swimming, as we had previously arranged.

The report checking was taking a lot longer than we had planned, so I texted my beloved to let her know I would be a bit late.  The first signs of trouble appeared in her reply.  No XXXs.  We always suffix our texts to each other with XXX.  I know it might appear a bit silly and teenager-like, but we do love each other (normally) and show it in little ways. 

We hold hands while walking in the park, we kiss every time we see each other after having been away (trips to the toilet do not count) from each other for any length of time.
We ignore each other's little faults and peccadilloes. 
I ignore her always leaving the toilet seat down and her addiction to Women's Magazines. 
She ignores me always leaving the toilet seat up, farting in bed, in the garden and on the couch, drinking too much whisky (on the odd occasion) and glancing surreptitiously at pretty girls wearing tight clothing (the girls, not me) when out in the car.

So not getting the XXXs meant she was annoyed.  How annoyed I'd find out.  I wasn't daft enough to actually phone her and find out.That way lies madness, despair and the very strong possibility of physical damage. (to the bloody phone after I had hurled it against the wall)

I was really quite late, getting home about 6:45 pm, and I could tell by the small, fixed, smile my beloved was bestowing upon me, that she was unhappy.

We still kissed.  Even when we are really angry with each other, we still kiss. 

I strongly believe that even if my beloved came into a room and found me standing over a dead body (please let it be Ringo) with a smoking gun in my hand, she'd still give me a little kiss.

If she came into a room and found me standing over a live woman with something else in my hand she wouldn't.  She wouldn't because I'd be out the window before she could get hold of a gun, smoking or otherwise.  Actually I jest, as I have never even thought of any hanky-panky with anyone, male, female, animal or even mineral (including plastic blow-up fantasy dolls) since we married 34 years ago. 

Ohhh.  I had a thought.

No, that's not 100% true.  The very occasional thought, vaguely sexual in nature may fly through my mind if I ever spy a pretty lady (never, I should remind everyone, never any school girls.  Ever.  I mean it.  I may be a bloke with normal bloke-like thought patterns and reflexes, but I'm not a perve, I'm a teacher) but the speed of the thought's transit approaches that of light.  So I see and think C. (Bit of a scientist joke here.  You can read it up on the internet.  Try wikipedia )

So we kissed.  It was just above the bare minimum  acceptable to us, about 3 on a 1 - 10 scale.  She really was upset.

This meant I had to MAKE IT UP.  I don't mean lie to her, I mean do many of these little things that make her happier.  Maybe dig out the mental list of little jobs she has mentioned to me in the past, but that I had put-off, forgotten and ignored.  I had to re-balance the virtual ledger that was life, and I'd better hurry.

NOTE TO NEWLY MARRIED/PARTNERED BLOKES.

Balancing is important

Never, ever let the lady choose the method of re-balancing, you might end up in deeper trouble than when you started.

Examples of what ladies might want on their list of re-balancing options:

• neck-rub
• foot-rub
• whole body massage using rare oils and unguents
• accompanying them shopping for shoes
• blow-drying hair
• vacuuming and dusting
• weeding the garden
• walking the dog when it's raining and the dog has diarrhoea
• going to church
• discussing our relationship and sex

Examples of what blokes might want on their list of re-balancing options:

• vacuuming and dusting
• polishing our shoes
• weeding the garden
• checking the oil, water and tyre air pressure for her car
• Giving the large cooker a complete scrub down and de-grease
• holding hands
• cooking the evening meal
• going out for a meal
• having a drink and relaxing (imaginary)
• sex

Find out what happened in the next exciting episode of:  How the hell does this work?

Just a hint.  It may well include SEX.

Power Tools

An odd thing happened yesterday when I came home from Nuova Lazio High.
But before I explain. let me digress a little.

I like power tools
No, I am in error.

 

I LOVE power tools.  Like most men I just adore the feelings of:

• efficiency
• speed (at least finishing the job quicker so we can get back to TV and Beer)
• Noise (controlled by us)
• Danger (limited and controlled)

Even apparently simple jobs are much more fun when done using a power tool.
Screwing in a woodscrew? Use an electric screwdriver.
Want a nail in a piece of wood? You could use a hammer, but a Nail Gun is much more amusing.  (Especially if you manage to get your hands on one of those "Special" nail guns that uses explosive cartridges to punch masonry nails through reinforced concrete.  Wow)
We guys appreciate the feeling of superiority over the Universe that these tools give us. 
We may be spineless wimps at home or at work, but give us a Chainsaw and every tree is a potential victim.
It's very satisfying.

But seriously, the real reason we get all these power tools (if so allowed by our lovely partners) is to make a job easier and/or quicker.
I can chop down a tree with a chainsaw in about 5-10 minutes.  With an axe it would take hours, if I could chop it down at all. And I could do it without raising a sweat.
I can plane a board of wood using a power plane in 2-3 minutes.  Doing it by hand using a wood plane could take up to 15 minutes, and the result would probably not be as good.
Power tools, when properly used, can deliver machine-like accuracy and precision.
A hand cut dovetail joint for a drawer front is rarely as tight a fit or as good looking as a machine cut dovetail.
In my garage at the moment I have the following:
Power Plane
Electric Grinder
Power Sander
Dremmel micro-tool
Electric Jigsaw
Hand held circular saw
Router (¼" collet)
750 Watt Electric Hammer Drill
2 x 18 volt rechargeable battery drills/screwdrivers
A pillar mounted bench drill press
A Sliding Compound Miter Saw
Electric Bench grinder with water cooled carborundum stone

Drill Press

All of these tools have their own specialised application, but occasionally they can be used for other tasks. But they are really good, fast and accurate in performing their own speciality.
We would expect that similar tools would excite similar feelings in our lovely ladies, but it appears not.

Over the years we have had just a couple of power tools for the kitchen. 

An electric knife
A kenwood chef (with all the attachments)
A Braun food processor
A liquidiser
A Braun hand held thingy that creams soup while it's still hot in the pot.

The food processor is a thing of joy. It has all the attachments you could possibly imagine.
It can chop, puree, mix, grate and slice.  All very quickly and efficiently.

So when I came home yesterday to the lovely smell of cooking I was happy.
As we sat down to our evening meal, I was happy.
As I munched at the crunchy potato and sweetcorn Rosti with poached Salmon in a tomato and Basil sauce I was bloody ecstatic.
Then I thought I detected something else in the Rosti, and I asked my beloved
"Is there something else in these Dear?" I enquired. "Cabbage, perhaps?"
"No" She glared.  [Ed. I know that glare is a word normally used for an expression, especially alluding to the eyes, but believe me, my beloved, like many ladies, can speak with a glare]
"Oh", I said, "Just potato then"
"Yes" She replied  "I had to grate over a kilo, and my arm is so tired now"
"Oh", I said (I know it's a bit repetitious, but it's accurate. Any guys in a long-time relationship reading this will understand.  Ladies, we're not being offensive.  We're just looking for peace)
"Thanks for all your hard work sweetheart" I said in tones of appeasement, love and appreciation.  "It's really tasty" (It really was)
"Hmmpph" But she looked moderately happy.

Rosti

As I washed up afterwards (No complaints. If my beloved spends time and effort in making me an exceedingly tasty meal, I'll wash and dry with a smile on my face.  Inside of course, I'm moaning to myself that this is all women's work, and that my Dad would not be happy in seeing me doing the washing and drying.  And Ironing.  And vacuuming) I wondered why my beloved had hand grated a kilo of spuds.  We had a food processor which would have done the job in seconds.  It would also have made the gratings (?Is this a correct word?  Gratings? whatever) finer and consistent, so making it easier to squeeze out the excess moisture before cooking.

I'll never understand women.  Why on earth didn't she use the power tool specifically designed for the job.
Maybe she has a strong martyr complex, and likes to cause herself pain. I just don't know.

All that worries me is all that extra muscular effort.  If my beloved keeps this up, she'll end up all muscular.

Help.  She's going to beat me up. Stop grating spuds.

Getting beaten up by my beloved does not appeal.


By the way. The most absolutely gorgeous Power Tool I have ever seen was a two-stroke powered portable hand drill.  It was almost completely useless, with the weight and vibration. But it was still gorgeous. I haven't met a man yet that didn't desire it.

The Wonders of Mince

I've noticed recently, that on quite a few blogs, domestic Goddesses and Gods display their expertise in the kitchen and discuss recipes for their favourite foods. Hestia's recent and very interesting post on the "Flavour Thesaurus" is a case in point.

But we married men are not completely incapable in a kitchen setting, and in the past, when my beloved has had to leave me alone with our kids, I have been perfectly capable of providing tasty and nutritious meals to keep us going until my beloved returned to the family home.

However, I have always been a believer in efficiency, and see no reason to exert myself un-needlessly (my beloved refers to this excellent character trait as bone idle, or lazy, but I think she's just jealous of my powers of energy conservation), so I always plan my week's cooking in advance. 

Here's my menus for the week, including recipes, so that you to can benefit from my energy saving methodologies, and so you can devote the saved time for your own essential projects like beer drinking, reading and dozing in front of the TV.

Monday:  Mince and Tatties

Buy 5 - 10kg (depending on how hungry you are at the moment of purchase) of best mince from the supermarket.  DO NOT buy the well advertised low-fat variety, they may be supposedly more healthy, but lack real depth of flavour.  I suggest that you also buy 4 tins of canned tomatoes, 2 tins of borlotti beans and at least 10 kg of potatoes.

Brown the mince in a pan using a little oil.  (Do not try and brown all 5 kg of mince at once, as this requires excessive stirring, and may cause a future weakness in your beer-drinking hand.)
Peel, chop and slice 5 large onions, and soften in a little oil in a large stock pot.
Wash hands thoroughly and have a beer to wash away any lingering irritation form the onion vapours.
When onions are softened and just starting to brown, add all of the browned mince.
Peel chop and dice 4 large carrots and add to pot.
Add 4-12 dried Bay leaves, a large pinch of dried Thyme or Sage, or any other dried herb (the green stuff) that you can find in your beloved's herb/spice drawer.  (WARNING. Powdered cinnamon or mace does not really work, but cloves add an interesting taste dimension)
Add salt and black pepper (ground) to taste.
Add a pint of boiling water and simmer for 1 hour, stirring occasionally
Peel and boil 5 kg of potatoes until cooked.
Have another beer or two now.  I find that it helps in timing the meal, having a beer between each visit to the pot for the occasional stir aids the process. You can also check the potatoes progress at the same time.  (See Ladies, efficiency, always efficiency.)
Put a serving (about half a packet) of frozen peas in a bowl in the microwave, and start 5 minutes before serving.
Serve mince and boiled potatoes to family. Make the effort to display the meal attractively.  Flowers in an empty beer on the dinner table can add a certain ambiance.
Instruct offspring to wash the curiously large number of pots, pans, plates, bowls which have accumulated during the cooking process, and have another well-earned beer, you deserve it, especially as you've done 80% of the work for the week.  Have another beer (wine optional) before staggering off to bed, but make sure the lid is firmly on the mince pot.  Resist the urge to make a large mince sandwich, as you will be need  the remaining mince for the week's meals.

Tuesday:  Savoury Mince

Peel and boil 5 kg of potatoes
Peel and crush 6 large garlic cloves, and fry gently in some oil.
Add to the mince from Monday and heat gently until simmering.
Add two tablespoons of Worcester sauce (Lee and Perrins is the best)
Beer time
Put a serving (about half a packet) of frozen peas in a bowl in the microwave, and start 5 minutes before serving.

When the potatoes are cooked, drain an and allow to dry for 5 minutes.
Mash violently, add ½ kg of salted butter, cream and milk and keep pounding.  Using power tools from the garage at this stage can make this boring and repetitive job much more interesting. I've noticed that using the 30,000 rpm wood router for this job speeds it up remarkably, and can also be used in quickly redecorating the kitchen walls with interesting and random patterns.
Serve the savoury mince and creamed potatoes to family. Make the effort to display the meal attractively. Flowers in an empty beer on the dinner table can add a certain ambiance.

Instruct offspring to wash the curiously large number of pots, pans, plates, bowls which have accumulated during the cooking process (not forgetting the walls if you used the router), and have another well-earned beer, you deserve it, especially as you've done 85% of the work for the week. Have another beer (wine optional) before staggering off to bed, but make sure the lid is firmly on the mince pot. Resist the urge to make a large mince sandwich, as you will be need the remaining mince for the week's meals.

Wednesday: Spaghetti Bolognase

Heat the mince and bring to the simmer.
Add the 4 cans of peeled and chopped tomatoes
Peel crush and fry another 4 cloves of garlic, and add to mince
Add 4 Bay leaves
Add ½ bottle of good red wine
Add a tube of tomato puree concentrate
Finely chop a bunch of fresh Basil and add to pot, simmer for 30 minutes.
Have a beer, and/or finish off remaining wine
Put on a large pot of water to boil
Have a beer
Add sufficient amount of spaghetti for family to gently boiling water.  (I have absolutely no idea how much spaghetti is enough.  I generally just grab a big handful for each participant, but it always ends up as either too much or too little.  Always add more than you think you'll really need.  That's what the dog's for)
When aldente, drain, allow to air dry for 3-4 minutes (1 can of beer) and serve with generous helpings of the mince Bolognase sauce.
I recommend using large bowls, and removing the table cloth before the meal
Instruct offspring as above, and have another well-earned beer, you deserve it, especially as you've done 90% of the work for the week. Have another beer (wine optional) before staggering off to bed, but make sure the lid is firmly on the mince Bolognese pot.

Thursday: Lasagna

Heat the mince Bolognese sauce and bring to the simmer.
Add ½ bottle of good red wine
Have a beer, and/or finish off remaining wine
Layer Lasagna sheets with the mince Bolognese sauce in a well buttered dish
Have a beer
Then you either:

1. Make a Bechamel Sauce
2. Buy a packet of Bechamel Sauce mix and follow instructions
3. Buy one of those fancy freshly pre-made Bechamel sauces from the deluxe end of the supermarket
4. Buy a carton of custard and add cheese.  (Not really recommended, caused a tendency to vomit amongst the offspring, but that might have been due to me forgetting to add the cheese last time.  Worth experimenting with though.  Try it with more Bay Leaves and dried Sage)

Pour the sauce/custard over the layers of Lasagna and mince Bolognese sauce.
Pop in the oven for 1 hour at  hottish temperature, not forgetting to scatter ample amounts of grated cheese on top of the dish before putting it in.
Have beers/glasses of wine while waiting.
Serve with a green salad, or just serve if you don't like rabbit food, or if you've had too much beer/wine to find the bloody green stuff.
Instruct offspring as above, and have another well-earned beer, you deserve it, especially as you've done 95% of the work for the week. Have another beer (wine optional) before staggering off to bed, but make sure the lid is firmly on the mince Bolognese pot.

Friday: Chili con mince Carne

Heat the mince Bolognese sauce and bring to the simmer.
Add ½ bottle of good red wine
Have a beer, and/or finish off remaining wine
Peel and chop another onion , brown and add to the pot
Open, drain and add the two cans of beans.
Add sufficient dried chili flakes (or fresh diced chili if you're feeling frisky. 
CAUTION If you use fresh chilis, do not:

1. Rub eyes
2. Scratch sensitive areas
3. Go to the toilet

unless you've thoroughly washed hands.  Use beer to wash, but don't waste.  Drink what's left.
Boil enough rice (about a tea cup per person) do not add sugar.  This is not a rice pudding.  It does not go with chili.. i know. I've tried it when I used 3 tins of creamed rice because I'd forgotten to get enough dry rice.  Believe me, it DOES NOT WORK.
 
Have another beer
Serve all the remaining mince Bolognase Chili in bowls over the boiled rice.  Tortilla chips optional.  Add grated cheese to taste.
Instruct offspring as above, and have another well-earned beer, you deserve it, especially as you've done all of the work for the week. Have another beer (wine optional) before staggering off to bed, but make sure the kitchen is clean and tidy.
 
 

Saturday:  Fish & Chips.


For some reason, my offspring gave a huge cheer when I arrived home with the Fish & Chips from the local chippy.  Can't understand why.  They've had a different, well balanced meal every day.  Sometimes there's no pleasing the younger generation.

Sunday: Steak

Steaks, Barbie, Wine.
No further explanation should be needed.  Beer is optional on Sundays.
Kids seemed to really enjoy it.  Daughter mentioned something about having to get her cholesterol checked.  Ridiculous she's only in her 20s, why should she need her cholesterol level checked?
Must be a hypochondriac (like her Mum)
 
Monday, my beloved returned home.  Offspring smothered her in kisses, hugs and affection.
 
Nice to see how how much they love their Mum.
 
Went through the traditional post-excursion debrief.  No (real) worries.

 I did notice that night, the kids were very emotional when my beloved served them up a simple Chinese stir fry chicken. 

No imagination. 

Pretty simple.

Weather (2)

THANK YOU

Before I start the main topic of this post, The Weather (again), I'd just like to say thanks to all of you that have made this blog the thing of beauty it has evolved into. 
I'd like to thank my beloved for allowing me to use "Your Bloody Electronic Mistress" between the hours of 5-6 am and 7-8 pm (except at weekends, when it's "sneaking in under the radar" when she's having a little post-lunch nap). 
I'd like to thank Richard [of RBB] and the temporarily absent ManOfErrors, who introduced me to the world of blogging. 
I'd like to thank The Curmudgeon for proving that there's someone out there who's as bitter, twisted and cynical as me. 
I'd like to thank Second for continually disappearing. (Keep it up Second, you'll get it right one of these days, and disappear permanently)
I'd like to thank all of the weirder manifestations of disturbed psyches who keep appearing, leave inane comments and then bugger off.
I'd like to thank all of the little people who allowed this gentle and unassuming blog to reach over 20,000 views in just 9 short months.

9 short months

I thank you.  I couldn't have done it on my own. [Ed. Well actually you could have.  If you were willing to do nothing but click onto your own blog every spare second of the day, then it is possible to build up a huge number of hits.  But only a sad and twisted person would stoop to such depths of iniquity]

However, I would like to get back to my topic, The Weather.

Last Tuesday (The Canterbury Earthquake Day), while my beloved was watching the news develop on TV, and I was doing the same on "My Bloody Electronic Mistress" (The time allowance having been extended due to the terrible events of the day), I heard my beloved mutter something about the weather.
Now we'd just had our sports day cancelled (see the last post - Weather) due to heavy rain, and I thought my beloved was referring to that, so I sort of grunted in agreement, then my sub-conscious and extremely suspicious (let's call a spade a spade; its not just suspicious, it's completely insanely paranoid) reptilian brain put up a flag that what she said did not coincide with what I thought she had said.

The Reptilian brain is the oldest (and most suspicious) part of teh Brain

I must digress.
This next part may come as a shock to any members of the gentler sex who peruse these pages.

Men don't really listen to your inane lists of things that have happened.
We don't care that cousin (twice removed and lives in Stoke-on-Trent) Gladwys has had surgery to those bits that guys don't want to talk/think about.  (We don't mind looking, especially if there's two women and mud involved, but we don't want to talk about it.)
We don't care that butter has increased in price another 5 pence/cents.
We don't care about the plot of whatever cheap American-imported soap opera you've been watching during the day while we've been working like dogs, bringing in the money we need to survive.
We don't care about your opinion on politics/sports/industrial relations.
We don't care about what plans are boiling in your little cerebellum regarding future celebrations of birthdays, anniversaries, St. Valentine's Days, Mother's Days, Father's Days etc.

Please note that all of the above are predicated on statements made whilst doing other things in a lounge/sitting room/snug at home.

If any of the above are initiated while occupying the marital bed, then we're all attention until either:

We fall asleep (10 minutes max)
We get sex

We get sex, then fall asleep (5 minutes max)

Men have developed a defence mechanism called the anonymous grunt.

Anything stated by the partner can be responded to by using the grunt.  It can sound affirmative or it can sound negative, or even non-committal.  The beauty of the anonymous grunt is that it sounds like the expected response.  If your beloved thinks she should be hearing a "YES", it sounds like you are agreeing, and vice versa.  If she wishes to discuss the topic in more detail, she hears the anonymous grunt as a request for more information, which allows her to happily prattle on.

Please don't be upset, any lovely ladies who are reading this (Fflur, Nicola and Ax included) we don't mean to offend you, it's just a simple defence mechanism.  Guys want to talk about nuts and bolts,  We want to talk about problem solving.  We would happily talk about the best method to fix/repair a damaged door for hours (especially over a few beers and the back of an envelope with a pencil in hand) but we don't like (read hate) to discuss feelings, or emotions or relationships.  It's just not us.

Anyway, back to the weather.

Oh bugger, I've run out of time.  Must head of to Nuova Lazio High School to get the relief set up.  I'll tell you all about what my beloved said about the weather next time. 

It was really odd.

The Evil of Sales

I'm a bloke.

I freely admit it. I also freely admit that while I'm fascinated by the fairer sex, I am also confused.
I have been happily married to my beloved for 34 years, but I'm still not sure what actually goes on in her brain. Males and Females differ (thank goodness), and mostly we complement each other (no Second, I don't go round thanking her every second, or saying she's got lovely hair, we just fit together.....eh I think I'll rephrase that. My weaknesses are her strengths etc.)

I'm good at carpentry, home decoration and repair, setting up and fixing computers, fixing cars and all electrical appliances, all heavy labouring, washing and cleaning dishes, and ironing and vacuuming.

My beloved cooks some lovely meals.
And shops. Dear God, why do women enjoy shopping?

The last time I bought a pair of shoes, it took me about 30 minutes, in 4 shops. In, look at shoes on offer, if any look my type I try them, and if they fit I buy or leave. Price not really that important, comfort number 1 priority, then style and price.
I no longer accompany my beloved on most of her shopping, as the last time we went shoe shopping, I got so bored and brain-damaged that I began to develop a tic under my left eye, and some of the other women in the shop thought I was winking at them.
I had to leave hurriedly when one of them winked back, and spent a happy time looking in hardware and computing shops.

4 hours later, my beloved and I met up again, sans shoes. She said she'd go back the next day just to check out some more styles.
Eventually, after repeating the whole process over several more days the shoes were finally bought, and they did look very attractive, but my beloved admitted that she wouldn't be wearing them for long periods because they weren't that comfortable. Now quite honestly, I just don't understand this. If I'm going to work or a walk or a party or whatever, I want to be able to walk without pain. Silly of me I know, but I don't really care too much about appearances, just comfort. I won't take it to extremes (like a couple of my friends) and I won't actually wear trainers with a suit to go to a funeral, but comfort must be there as well as style.

While I was in Scotland last month, we both stocked up on good quality clothes and shoes. I bought sensible stuff. A Gor-Tex jacket at £70, a good quality woollen jumper at £12, a couple of shirts from the Marks & Spencer sales at £6 each, and finally a lovely comfortable pair of shoes by Doc Marten at £80. All cheaper than NZ prices, all good quality and all practical and comfortable.

My Doc Marten's Shoe

My beloved spent over £400 on what I would call non-essentials. I'm not complaining about the cost (much) but the items bought just seemed wrong. Most of the stuff was Vyella and Country Casuals. All good quality, all (well actually most) on sale prices, but none of the jackets would really keep you warm, the blouses would disappear in a gentle breeze and the shoes looked....weird. Nobody's got feet shaped like that, I think they may have been designed by Torquemada.

This is a Shoe?

Now what sparked of this post, seeing as we've been back in NZ for almost a month now?
I got home last night, tired from all the school-work and as i came into our kitchen, I saw a pile of large (very large) plastic boxes with lids.
"What are these Dear?" I said to my beloved; a bright and charming smile fixed to my face.

"Plastic boxes" she said.

"I know Dear" I said, the bright and charming smile beginning to morph into a fixed grimace, "But why?"

"They were on sale at the Warehouse" was the reply, delivered with an inevetable finality.

"But what are they for?" I persevered hopelessly.

"They were only $5 each, $20 reduction"
I smiled again, a winsome boyish smile, a smile which recognised defeat.
What was it for? It was $5 each. The logic escaped me.
I retreated to our bedroom to get changed out of my school clothes into sensible kiwi home kit. $6 Warehouse T-shirt (too big, but very comfortable) and an exceedingly disreputable pair of shorts which I brought with me from the Army, and have been involved in every gardening, building and decorative project for the last 25 years. They are very comfortable, but getting a little tight nowadays. Must be shrinking after all these washes.

What was it for? It was $5 each. Fascinating. I wonder where they would end up? And what would actually be stored in them?

We'd see. They must be good. They were only $5 each. They had a $20 reduction.

Function pecuniam sequitur

For those non-Kiwis reading this, The Warehouse  (aka The Big Red Shed) is a NZ institution, importing all sorts of goods, piling them high and selling them cheap.  Quality can be extremely variable.  As an example, just after I arrived in NZ, I bought a can opener from the Warehouse.  It cost only $2.50, and broke after a week (3 cans).  They refuse to take anything back if you don't have a docket (receipt)

Knickers

Real Knickers

No, this is not a spurious title giving me an excuse to post pictures of unclothed young ladies. I don't need an excuse.


I'm talking about the different approach Men and Women have to underwear.

Funny pictures, broad elastic, good absorption

Guys wear pants/boxers/y-fronts etc. to protect their vulnerable and sensitive areas from friction, to absorb any bodily fluids/solids which might escape during manly farting and to soak up any late-release pee caused by an enlarged prostate. We want solid reliability, comfort, resilience, good broad elastic, high absorption ratios and if at all possible, funny pictures. We do not want lace, frills, see-through panels, gaps, elastic waistbands and never, ever, sequins.

Lace AND frills

Gaps

Ribbons AND sequins

How much would these soak up?  about 1 ml.

I know about these things. I'm a man. I've been buying my underwear for 5 years. I'm in my late 50s, but 5 years is the length of time between my Mum buying my keks, and my Beloved buying my keks. But they knew what I wanted.



I am completely lost when it comes to buying panties for my beloved as a Christmas present.

As soon as a guy walks into these shops, or even the specialised area of a department store, he can feel the disdainful looks of every woman in the area, plus hear the barely audible giggling emanating from the sales assistants.

Why on earth would women want to wear such things? They're completely impracticable. They're diaphanous, glittery, full of holes, trimmed with lace, in awful colours and amazingly expensive. But we're stuck. It's just a little stocking filler, but I can just see her face if I bought her a pair of Jockey shorts a la Dan Carter. No, these have to be appropriate. So I'll go for the purply-pinksh colour trimmed in a sort of a puce lacy stuff. I know she'll like it, because the smiling sales assistant said so. But it didn't have any funny pictures on it. It's a mystery.

Where's the funny pictures?

It's also a mystery why they're referred to as a pair of panties. I'm only buying one, so why a pair?



Ah the peculiarities of the English language; ever a joy.