Shark Week

Back in the Garden of Eden, newlyweds would take an aptitude test to determine if they would be suitable parents. If they scored high enough, a stork would deliver a smiling baby to their doorstep. After the founding members of the Ancient Order of the Ovaries had their application rejected for being drama queens, they stormed the headquarters of Stork Inc. with sticks and drove them out. The stork’s process for making babies was spectacularly simple, but women never read the directions for anything so they created a complex system of plumbing inside themselves to gestate human beings instead.

When a man puts his wee-wee in a woman’s hoo-ha, his little champions swim up a river of nightmares until it finds a safe place to hide (The egg) until it is strong enough to escape the house of horrors it was thrown into. The egg wants out too and it knows the sperm can help. There is only room for one sperm inside the egg so all the sperm that didn’t make it quickly commit mass suicide. The scared egg and sperm bide their time until they are strong enough to escape. Have you ever seen a baby being born? It looks like a scene out of Hellraiser. You can only imagine what kind of shit that baby has been going through for the last nine months. That is why they kick when they are inside and are crying when they come out.

The villain in this horror movie is Estrogen. Our bodies are an amazing ecosystem of cells and organs that pretty much run themselves, leaving you free to do things like test out how much booze you can pour into it. Every cell, organ, and molecule in your body have a job to do. Hormones are the CEO of the body. They assign jobs, create schedules, and make sure everything runs smoothly. God hired the hormone Testosterone to run the body because it had a record of being able to work well under pressure, and is a good problem solver. For example, Testosterone was tasked with designing a system so people knew what size pants to wear. Testosterone’s system was to measure the human’s waist and legs, then buy pants based on those measurements. When women took over baby making, after the great stork migration of year one, they fired Testosterone and hired Estrogen so men wouldn’t know how to make babies. Estrogen created a system of randomly assigned pant sizes that somehow involved the size zero and vague words like short and long. It was so complicated, even she couldn’t explain it, so she got mad and broke down, crying hysterically. Everybody in the room just backed away nervously and left her alone; giving Estrogen the impression that having a breakdown was a legitimate problem solving tool. That is why when her uterus revolts against her every month her body’s go-to solution is blind rage and crying. A month is about as long as an egg can handle waiting for a sperm to come save it before it loses all hope and commits suicide. The egg factory burns down to the ground, only for Estrogen to rebuild it every month. It takes about fifty years but eventually she runs out of bricks. Then Estrogen just boards up all the windows and quits. The desolate, abandoned building left behind is called menopause.

When a woman is on her period, Estrogen is running around like a chicken with its’ head cut off, trying to put out the fire of her smoldering uterus, but the smoke is causing bloating and the heat is making her cramp up. She tries to solve the problem for a good forty five seconds before she gives up and switches to crying.

This is why women have fantasies about firemen. Well, men, here’s your helmet. You got the job whether you asked for it or not.

The one thing you want to avoid at all cost is trying to reason with a hormonal woman. It won’t work on a good day and it sure as shit isn’t going to work during shark week. It is like trying to pull a thorn out of a lion’s paw. You’re trying to help, but odds are you are going to get mauled for trying. Your best bet is to shoot the beast with a tranquilizer. The Ancient Order of the Testicles experimented with traditional tranquilizers, but the monthly shots combined with the need for higher doses for women whose pant size involves the comically optimistic word “plus”, became cost prohibitive. So they invented ice cream. It was cheaper and women would self-administer the drug.

There is a passage in the Bible says that when a woman is on her period she must camp outside of town and no one can touch her or go near her until the bleeding stops. This was obviously the best solution, but there were also some passages about sacrificing doves and turtles at the tabernacle involved in the instructions. People didn’t like that part because it didn’t seem to help, and two doves a month gets expensive, especially when you got bills to pay and mouths to feed.

So, as soon as Jesus wasn’t looking, people started “forgetting” about the whole thing. Jesus did notice. He wasn’t mad though. It turns out the passage had been snuck into the Bible by a priest looking to scam free doves and get his wife out of the house so he could have poker nights with the monks. After an investigation by angels in the HR department, Jesus fired the sneaky priest, told women to stay home, and created boxed wine, which goes great with chocolate.

While you are waiting for the wine and chocolate to kick in, you are going to want to distract her. She knows there is no baby coming that month, but she wants one of those little fuckers so bad that her body is having contractions like she is about to deliver just in case. The Ancient Order of the Testicles took note of this physical manifestation of wishful thinking and used it to create chick flicks. Put on a movie where a female even more unreasonable than her, hooks up with a strapping male lead who somehow puts up with all of her bullshit without developing PTSD. Her paper thin grasp on reality allows her to project herself into the film, tricking her mind into reaping the emotional benefits of this impossible fantasy.

In the never-ending trench warfare for sanity, romance novels were invented. A good book would keep her quiet for days. This worked great until women started adapting them into films. The Ancient Oder of the Testicles couldn’t stop chick flicks from being produced, but they did manage to set the standard at 90 minutes or less. Even though Ryan Gosling nails every role he plays like a boss, 90 minutes was as long as focus groups could handle. In an apocalyptic case of shortsightedness on our part, the Order didn’t take into account her binge watching The Notebook all week.

Once a month, Estrogen crashes the proverbial plane into the mountain. The Boy Scouts taught you to always be prepared, so you already have a parachute packed with chocolate ice cream, wine, and a collection of Nicholas Sparks books and DVDs. Toss her the chute, push her ass out of the plane, then land it safely in your man cave and hunker down until the crying stops.

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