Wednesday, June 08, 2005

I, male. I, fix things.

Men are the gender born with many illusions. Because of this they believe that no matter where they point when they pee, their urine while make a perfect S-coil in mid-air then land dead center in the bowl. Of course, women have illusions too, the most common being that any piece of clothing covering their ass would make them look fat, and any amount of assurance would not help them believe otherwise. But I have to assure you, that jeans doesn't make you look fat. It is because you have a huge bu....

Ouch.

Because of this too, men create gadgets, so they can satisfy the needs of men who have the illusion they can fix anything when it's broken, given they have a complete set of screwdrivers. The process of fixing is a simple, instinctual act, where we will take a screwdriver and open up the casing and stare at the inner mechanisms, with the illusion that if we stare hard enough, knowledge that has been pent up all this time within the casings would transfer through our optical nerves into our cerebrum. This will then prompt us to take apart everything in sight, then stare again at each piece, long enough to understand that we need to stare at things longer before attempting to put them back together at random. Our girlfriend/wife/mother, who has witnessed this forever, would shake their head and roll their eyes, then dial the handyman who's on speed-dial 9.

Sometimes, if they're very lucky, men would come up with something useful to the human race, like the beer hat, or, on the practical side, a washing machine, which was initially intended to be a multi-speed, revolving beer pyramid display, but we had ALL intentions to use it as a washing machine (this was discovered by Alva Fisher's drinking buddy, who, in drunkerdness, slipped pieces of broken underwear into the machine, which was ripped from Alva while giving him a super-wedgie).

Of course, men are also good at creating cover stories to hide their follies, so these men called themselves visionaries who could envision a future where manking need not spend so much time slogging on laundry. And, to make us look good to women, we say that this was intended to reduce a housewife's chore (because househusbands weren't a legitimate career back then) and ensure that they have more time to spend with their family, and--from my acute observations of my sister (the one who does not know this exists)--to watch Oprah, in some extreme cases, whilst doing tae-bo.

Women, on the other hand, know how to fix things. As a special representetive of the females, I have invited my mum to give her nuggets of wisdom on how to REALLY fix things, using the computer as an example.

"Now, when the computer hangs, just bang the sides until you feel comforted. Drum on it, if you feel the need, to a cha-cha beat. This will attract the attention of my son, who will whip out the screwdriver box set his dad bought for his 7th birthday, and attempt to open the casings, to "get an idea of how it works". I'll then call that nice man on speed-dial 9. His father used to fix things that my husband broke (Dad: Attempt to fix!). Now that he's retired, I'm glad his son could fix the things my son breaks (CC: Attempt to fix!)"
-Captain Carcinogen's mum on fixing things

But sometimes, when she finds that a handyman is not necessary, a woman would violate all laws of nature, and ask us for *GASP!* the manual!

This would automatically make us feel naked and vulnerable, and jump off from the couch and cower in the corner, covering our balls, even if we were watching football, as long as it's not the Champions League Final (duh).

We all instinctually know, from the wisdom of the ages, that consulting a manual is wrongwrongwrong, and would lead us into Dependence, a train on the railroad of Destruction, which is currently broken and being fixed by 12 highly skilled repairmen that were trained by my mum and are busy banging the railings with their spanners to the tune of Cinta IT, hoping to attract the attention of a real repairman.

I'm sure you've all heard of the man who consulted a manual on how to put together a swing set. He managed to put it together, and, unlike other swing sets, when your kids use it, they won't fly off into the neighbour's backyard when the swing detaches from the hinges ("Daddy! I'm flying!").

AND THEN HE DIED.

While sleeping, he was mauled by the brutal savagery of the spirit of the swing which rises at night and uproots itself from the concrete base, angry that a manual has desecrated the assembly of its spirit. It is last heard roaming around the Wangsa Maju area, sensing that one guy had used a manual to put together his kitchen shelf.

This is true. I heard it from a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy who used a manual and is now DEAD.

4 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

You. My brother.
You. Tiada kerjakah?
And you blogged about the she-devil who taebos. AHAHAHAHAHA.
I almost died laughing reading this.
If I died who's going to burn you CD?

2:31 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Brilliant, simply brilliant! Another informative piece on the workings of the male mind (*gasp!* such a mystery to us girls!)

That manual thing just kills me. Really.

BD

5:06 PM  
Blogger Captain Carcinogen said...

Sister: leave me the cd-burner in ur will lah. but if rosak, just send to me, i repair. sure ok one.

BD: hey, nice to see u again. well, this thing is actually quite true, which is probably why it seems funny. i wonder, though, how come there's no guy who disagrees. maybe they got mauled by the Vengeful Swing Set...

12:49 AM  
Blogger tRiEi cRiSiS said...

Lolz, this is so funny~~ I'm now a fan of your blog.

If this is what man is made to do, then, so be it. You can all attempt to fix whatever that needs fixing while I (the female species) will watch in awe while you make it worst and then proceed to tell us that you "need a new one anyway."

Well, if it provides me with a few hours of entertainment, why not?

10:58 AM  

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