Confessions of a (part-time) She-Hulk.

Well. Part-time She-Hulk.

Actual artist rendering of DimWhit on grocery day. Drawn to scale.

You see, yesterday was go-to-the-grocery-store day. Of all the items that appear the “Shit You Gotta Do When You’re A Grown-Up” list, grocery shopping is my uncontested least favorite. Human beings are at their most annoying when they’re in the produce section, the parking always sucks, without fail I am destined to pick the wrong check-out aisle and by the time I make it home, most of the crap I bought has escaped their bags and tumbled into the most difficult to reach spots in my car.

I think all the agitation unleashes my inner Lou Ferrigno. Because by the time I arrive home, I am so irritable and so completely over it that I am able to do this:

Simply remarkable.

It’s an incredible feat of strength and efficiency that I have yet to duplicate in any other activity. Period.

Take for example, unloading the dishwasher looks more like this:

It’s too heavy!

And today’s chore is laundry.

Laundry is so easy! I get to sit on my ass for a majority of the process, making it by far my most favorite domestic task. But hand to God, as I look at that laundry basket with ergonomic, no-slip-grip handles, faced with the knowledge that I have GOT to get it up the stairs, I can almost literally feel my muscles (the very muscles that carried 268 lbs. of grocery bags in one trip just yesterday) retreat into my body.

Seriously, I get all Benjamin Buttony.

One day this week, I already know that I’m going to have to carry out a load of trash. Jesus-take-the-wheel, it will not be one of my finer moments. I typically kick this task off with approximately 30-45 minutes of this:

Put your head between your knees, you DimWhit!

When that doesn’t work and I’m finally faced with the ugly truth that the garbage didn’t magically disappear and if I procrastinate any further my friends are going to bust me and turn me into the the producers of “Hoarders”, I saddle up and do what any proper part-time She-Hulk would do.

Until next time, friends. I’m off to go refill the toilet paper.

You’re right fellas – women aren’t funny: Exhibit A

We all know women aren’t funny.

How many times do we have to tell you?

And if you didn’t know that, just ask your nearest dude. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

Lest I forget how unfunny us women-folk are, I was recently reminded of this simple fact a few weeks ago. The hubs and I had two of our dearest friends over, a married couple whom we love like family, to enjoy our deck, the sunshine and a few margaritas. Things were going swimmingly, as per usual, until the topic turned to comedians and our male friend very matter-of-factly stated:

Women just aren’t that funny.

And…he elaborated:

There’s not one female comic I would pay money to see. I mean, they just aren’t that good.

And there it was. The comment I have heard so many times before, lesser minds would think there were truth to it. But there isn’t, friends. Which is why, after I managed to hoist my chin from the table and blink myself back into consciousness, I immediately began forming my well-rehearsed rebuttal to spew in his direction.

Let’s do this!

I locked my eyes on him. I was ready, was he? He better be, considering I had heard this shitty statement so many times that my list of hilarious-ladies-you-can’t-deny had grown longer and was well practiced. But before I could begin my argument which usually started with, “For the love of Christ, what about Carol Burnett?”, I stopped myself.

What did you say?

Why? Because I was exhausted. Attempting to turn a Doubting Thomas into a believer one person at a time is hard work. Nope, this time I would just agree with him. Aggressively agree with him.

You’re exactly right! I said.

Silly women, thinking they’re so funny! I agreed.

Screw those mediocre, mammary gland sporting lady jokesters. Posers! I proclaimed.

Since I assumed his funny bone had been fractured at a young age in some terrible accident, I felt confident the sarcasm soaked comments might escape him. And they did. And I felt better. And I giggled a little on the inside. But only a little, because chicks aren’t that funny!

7 out of 10 Doctors state that an increase in testosterone positively impacts a female’s humor glands. Source: American Journal Of Shit That’s Not True.

So to commemorate this oh so factual statement that us ladies are lacking in the humor department, this will be the first in a regular series on my blog entitled: You’re right fellas – women aren’t funny. For each entry, I’ll submit some support for this argument, by offering up a lady or ladies that possess the audacity to consider themselves funny, as proof that you dudes are right!

And since I’m new to blogging and therefore blogging is on my mind pretty much constantly, Exhibit A will center around some of the most anti-hilarious, skirt-wearing, beholders of boobies in the post publishing world.

I submit to you as evidence:

1. Allie Brosh of Hyperbole and a Half. This Brosh bitch isn’t funny at all. Don’t read anything she’s written. Least of all this.

2. Jenny Lawson, The Bloggess. I’ve read all her stuff. Couldn’t crack a smile. See? Cholera is no laughing matter!

3. Abby Heugel of Abby Has Issues. She’s so funny I forgot to laugh. Plus, she’s glamorous, which is annoying.

See what I mean? Not funny at all! [eyeroll, eyeroll, eyeroll] And definitely don’t let their flashy book deals and sizable fan-bases fool you. Those gals obviously have no game.

Have any other female bloggers you’d like to toss under the funny bus? Please feel free to out similar impostors below. Promise not to laugh.