Minor, Rampant Cruelty
(NOTE: Based on time elapsed since the posting of this entry, the BS-o-meter calculates this is 14.472% likely to be something that Ferrett now regrets.)
Just discovered: I could pretty much ruin any woman’s day when she’s about to leave the house by asking, “Oh, you’re going out like that?” and then muttering that it’s fine, it’s fine.
I just said that to Erin hypothetically, and she knows I didn’t even mean it, and she’s still itching to change her clothes.
(Cue tides of women saying that they’re above that. You may thank me for making you feel superior.)
Oh, yes. Because only women are ever insecure. Thhpbt, I say to you, sir, thbt. Or, were I feeling particularly wicked, “That’s your blog style? Interesting choice. No, no, I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it work, and I’m interested to see how.”
The “Battle of the Sexes” is a constructed distraction designed to keep us from fighting the real enemy: bad TV.