picked this up off the ‘net somewhere:

When I used to work at a record store customers were always asking me to open their new CDs for them. 99 percent of them were incredibly impressed that I could unwrap the plastic and remove the white tape-like label that seals the top of the case in under 3 seconds.

Your tip for the day: Hold the top of the CD on an angle slide the bottom side across the edge of a table. The plastic wrapper will comes right off. Then unhinge the case and the white tape-like label can be peeled off easily. Then just re-hinge the case.

Of course my speed developed from opening a lot of CDs…and boredom.

I have three sisters and the baby, late of MindOverMary, isn’t just my sister, she’s also one of my best friends.  Parallel to the blog conversations about relationships, we’ve been emailing.  Here’s an excerpt from one email from baby sis:

I thought I knew what I wanted in a man but I think what I really know is what I DON’T want in a man.   But maybe I don’t know either way.    There are a couple of things I know.   I know I want someone one who makes me feel secure (emotionally), I want someone with a great sense of humor because I know being able to laugh at life is the key to getting through.   I want a man who is strong when I’m weak and weak when I’m strong.   Someone who isn’t afraid to lean on me but who I can lean on as well.   I want a friend I can talk to and confide in who feels the same about me.  And of course, I want the chemistry.    I want someone who knocks my socks off when he walks in a room. 

Here‘s a story about an underwear thief.

The “too wierd” parts of the story include the booking photo of the guy — Man, arrested for being a panty thief, and then having your freakin’ photo displayed with a background of your … uhm … booty? … arrayed around your face.  Bet he has a hard time getting dates for awhile.  But, notice if you will that the advertisement on the page is for Mate1.com, an internet dating service, where you can probably find the guy’s profile for all I know.

Anyway, can you imagine some woman being arrested for stealing several garbage bags full of men’s bloomers?  Has that EVER happened?

I can’t even get my mind around that idea, it’s so strange.

The guy, convicting him before trial and all, is just nothing more or less than one more poor, sodden wanker perv.  He’s just sad and probably would be thinned from the herd under my well-known “too dumb to live” rule once I become Emperor, an event I expect to occur any day now.

But imagine if you will … what chain of events could lead a woman to steal men’s underwear in great quantities for the reason and purpose of some offworld sexual desire?  No matter how horny I imagine a woman and no matter how obviously not attractive in our present culture (See, again, picture of accused.  No darling of the silver screen, this guy.)  I myself cannot put together a sequence of events or thinking that would put a woman in possession of such an idea.  I can see a lesbian woman keeping women’s underpants as some kind of trophy, but not a heterosexual woman seeking the boxers and briefs of men, not even freshly out of the dryer, as these purloined panties apparently were.

Of course, it takes a self confident man to go into Victoria’s Secret or even JC Pennys and buy women’s lingerie, but women buy men’s briefs and boxers at WalMart without a second thought.  It’s just not a big deal.

This brings me to a couple of gender bending questions out of my life at late.  I was lately in a judge’s chambers for a conference to discuss hearings for several motions in a hotly contested case.  We discussed the overall merits and aims of the hearings and the likely length of time it would take to argue them all and whether they were best heard in what order and before or during trial.  At the end of the meeting, as we were leaving the two women, a lawyer and a judge! — there’s a gender bender for those of you stuck in the 50s — started talking about how nicely I dressed and said I was “easy on the eye” and such, even bringing the female staff into the conversation.  I was flattered, of course, but also a little embarassed.  Then, I realized, switch the genders, John.  You ever do the same thing?  Still.  If this had happened to a woman, she might be appalled, but not shocked.  I was shocked, then appalled.

Not too long ago, one of my female friends, while under the influence, molested me.  No did not mean no, nor did “go home” ring any bells, it just meant wait until John goes to sleep and can’t stop me.  It upset me and I was angry the next morning and said so.  Later, I told the story and one of my most feminist female friends blamed … ME.  The way I dress, the kind of letch I am, the way I talk, the sense I give off of being more than just sexually available … WTF?  She deserved to be raped, wearing that micro-miniskirt to the mall like that.

In a lot of ways, the second woman did more damage than the first.  The first woman was at least out of her mind with some kind of drug and alcohol mixture.  The second woman was dead sober and dead serious.  That’s what she really thinks when she’s in her RIGHT mind.

If it is wrong for men to talk and think and act that way about women, it’s darn sure wrong when the tables are turned, ladies.

Unless, of course, it’s NOT wrong for either gender to talk that way WHEN THE SHOE FITS.  Here’s the deal:  HUMAN BEINGS act in particular ways, especially about sex.  There are differences between the genders, to be sure.  There are also similarities.  Sometimes, the similarities exceed the importance of the differences.  Sometimes, in some circumstances, having someone of the opposite sex say something nice about the way you look is cool.  Sometimes it isn’t.  However, it is often the case that MY attitude makes the difference between whether it’s cool or isn’t FROM MY PERSPECTIVE.  My perspective, however, should not be the dispositive factor.  That shouldn’t end the controversy.  Other things have to be considered.  Would ANY reasonable person in those circumstances be offended or pleased or confused or just what?  In the event, I was cool with it and it was only later that I realized that the event could be construed in a different way.

Do I think it’s OK for a guy to molest a woman?  No.  Emphatically.  Same the other way ’round.  Emphatically.  Do I think there are times when any reasonable, ordinary man would say “she was just asking for it.”?  Yes, I’m afraid I do think there are such times, as much and as devoutly as I might argue in favor of the idea that a miniskirt doesn’t justify a rape.  The line must be drawn absolutely in favor of caution and only consent, openly and freely given, is good enough.  Maybe the way I act seems like an open invitation to any and all to you.  Sorry, that’s not good enough.  Only consent, openly and freely given, is good enough for both sexes in all situations. 

We have our differences, ladies, and I must say I find them baffling.  I am not surprised that you have your complaints.  It is no wonder to me that you believe we choose women for all the wrong reasons and that you feel great schadenfreude when our relationships fail.  You have every reason to be appalled when you see us choose a woman who is an obviously heavy-laden-with-baggage bitch.  Which is precisely why we don’t care and yawn when you tell us about the bastard who stole your credit cards and left bong burns in your couch and how much you miss him and how heartbroken you are that he’s gone forever.  You think we are callous and emotionally unavailable.  No.  That is not true, anymore than it’s true that you are calloused when we cry to you about the bitch leaving her baggage behind and you’re itching to screetch “I TOLD you so!”.  No, we’re bored because we’ve spent three hours listening to your X down at the bar, diving into a bottle and complaining about what a psycho, controlling, baggage laden bitch you are and that the credit cards were on HIS account … uh huh… sure … whatever you say, love.

After all, if women were so damn good at picking men that they were in any position to give us men advice, then they would have to explain why so many heavy bellied, beer drinking, slope headed, mouth breathing idiots wind up living in Moore and Del City and such all unhappily married with a thatch of kids around their feet.  You girls get a bad marriage or two under your belts and think you know everything there is to know about boys and girls, but you don’t and the next husband you pick is just as likely to be a goofball as the first husband or two.

We never learn.

That’s the deal.

We never learn.

blogblah!!!

 Money quote:

Quantum mechanics is the girl you meet at the poetry reading. Everyone thinks she’s really interesting and people you don’t know are obsessed about her. You go out. It turns out that she’s pretty complicated and has some issues. Later, after you’ve broken up, you wonder if her aura of mystery is actually just confusion.