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Comedy
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| What Men Want. | |
| By TomOBrien | ||||||||
| 14 January 2008 | ||||||||
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Coed sporting events are just plain wrong! (790 words.) There are things in this life that are just not meant to be shared by men and women. Shopping, hair accessories, underwear, house decorating and NASCAR Auto Racing. Oh, I know it's become common place to make auto racing and sporting events in general a coed experience. It is also wrong. A good, high speed, bone jarring, nail biting race should be one time when a women looks lovingly into her man's eyes, lets her voice drop to a sexy whisper, and says, "Go to a sports bar and watch the race." Don't get me wrong here. I'm not saying women can't appreciate Auto Racing. Women can and do appreciate it. At times more so then some men. But they should do so by themselves. Because what men really want out of this high speed freight train balanced on a high wire experience, especially as they get older, is a chance to pretend they are not getting older. A chance to scream, belch, scratch, invent new drink concoctions and act like an expert crew chief, driver and mechanic all in one. When in fact they haven't had the hood up on the family SUV since the day they drove it off the dealers lot. And their daily "race" is down the interstate at seven thirty every morning and back again at five o'clock every evening. They can be that crew chief / driver with the guys. They can not with the women. Sorry folks. Sorry Oprah. You can't fix this one. Let's say there are fifty laps to go at the Daytona 500. By now the average guy has consumed a plate of nachos, three slices of pizza with anchovies, a dozen hot wings and five or six beers. He's feeling cocky. He points a half gnawed chicken wing at the TV and growls in his best expert crew chief's voice. "Johnson's gotta take four tires here and lower the air pressure a half pound. Track position is no trade off for fresh rubber with fifty still to go. He's gotta take four. No way can he do it changing right sides (tires) only." Johnson comes in, gets right side tires only, blows out with the lead, holds off the field for fifty laps and wins the race. If his wife were in the room, she would rightly say, "Honey, he changed only two tires. You said he would have to change four." Men know not to do this. Men know to either snicker and say, "Nice call Tom." Or stare ahead in silence because their turn could be coming next. Another thing is body sounds. Men watching a race or a sporting event in general will sometimes, during a lull in the action, turn to other forms of amusement. Some of these, especially if there is chili, barbecue or Mexican food involved, include mature activities such as "pull my finger." You do not do this with wives and girl friends in the room. Or, how about when the camera pans the crowd and zooms in on some of that tight young flesh in the short shorts and halter tops ? Men know what to say to other men. "WOOO-HAAA!!!" Sometimes they will blow out a mouth full of air and fall backwards into a chair. All of this is perfectly acceptable to other men. Can you imagine your mother-in-law's reaction to "WOOO-HAAA!!!"? Men want to scream when a driver brushes the wall during a ballsy, outside pass. Men want to holler "GO BABY GO ! PEDEAL TO THE METAL MAN ! !" Men want to slap high fives with the guy next to them, as if something really important just happened. Men want to drink beer, men want to scratch, men want to undo their belts and slither into the recliner like a wet seal. Come on ladies. Why would you want to be part of this? I'm a guy and sometimes I want out. Let's face it. You don't want your guy shopping for shoes with you. You don't want him along when you and your girl friends go for those manicure / pedicure things. And guys don't want women watching the Daytona 500 and remarking about how Kasey Khane has a nice butt. So forget all of these pop psychologists who write books about bonding. Forget all of those "Today Show" experts who say sports can be a coed experience. There are times for sharing and there are times when men should be allowed to just go to their pit stalls and grunt. Did you ever hear a crew chief giving orders to the crew in what sounds like a deep southern draw through a mouthful of gravel? That's not English he's speaking. It's secret guy talk. And what he's really saying is "pull my finger !" Tom
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