The difference between men and women...
as told to me by one Nic Maisano, my boyfriend's best friend. So Wing, Nic, Cheryl and I were at dinner this past Tuesday, at this great Vietnamese restaurant in Chinatown, just good friends catching up, when the conversation turns to the difference between men and women. Nic then says, you know, my dad once explained it to me by telling me this story about a butcher. At the time, I was a kid, so I didn't really get it, but as I've grown older, I've come to see his meaning (he is now 25)
So here is the tale. A man goes to the butcher to buy meat. He goes there, and the butcher gives him a slab of meat. But the cut isn't great-- a little fatty, a little not fresh. The man goes home, tells his wife that he went to the butcher's and didn't get the cut of meat he wanted. His wife asks him what he's gonna do about it. The man says, I'm going to a different butcher tomorrow.
A woman goes to the butcher to buy meat. She goes there, and the butcher gives her a slab of meat that isn't great-- a little fatty, a little unfresh. The woman takes the meat back home and tells her husband that she didn't get the quality piece of meat she expected. The husband says, why don't you just go to a different butcher tomorrow? The woman responds, but I like this butcher.
And that, ladies and gentleman, is the difference between men and women, according to Nic Maisano. I had a good laugh.
In other news, the weather is yucky here. Dreary, bleak, rainy. I should be working on one of my two papers, but I'm not. Sometimes I really am amazed at my own ability to procrastinate. I know I have to get these papers done, but no matter how much I am aware of this pressing deadline, I am still able to just sit around and do nothing. Tonight I am supposed to go down to Roses's in the East Village for her party. Then Wing is going to pick me up to go to the Canal Room for a friend's party. Seriously, I have no desire to do anything. It's one of those days. I really just want to pick up a Harlan Coben, but I can't, because I know if I do, I won't put it down till I'm finished and that means more time before I get to my work.
So here is the tale. A man goes to the butcher to buy meat. He goes there, and the butcher gives him a slab of meat. But the cut isn't great-- a little fatty, a little not fresh. The man goes home, tells his wife that he went to the butcher's and didn't get the cut of meat he wanted. His wife asks him what he's gonna do about it. The man says, I'm going to a different butcher tomorrow.
A woman goes to the butcher to buy meat. She goes there, and the butcher gives her a slab of meat that isn't great-- a little fatty, a little unfresh. The woman takes the meat back home and tells her husband that she didn't get the quality piece of meat she expected. The husband says, why don't you just go to a different butcher tomorrow? The woman responds, but I like this butcher.
And that, ladies and gentleman, is the difference between men and women, according to Nic Maisano. I had a good laugh.
In other news, the weather is yucky here. Dreary, bleak, rainy. I should be working on one of my two papers, but I'm not. Sometimes I really am amazed at my own ability to procrastinate. I know I have to get these papers done, but no matter how much I am aware of this pressing deadline, I am still able to just sit around and do nothing. Tonight I am supposed to go down to Roses's in the East Village for her party. Then Wing is going to pick me up to go to the Canal Room for a friend's party. Seriously, I have no desire to do anything. It's one of those days. I really just want to pick up a Harlan Coben, but I can't, because I know if I do, I won't put it down till I'm finished and that means more time before I get to my work.