Women are from Bloomingdale’s; Men are from Sears
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It doesn’t take a government-funded study to tell us that men and women are different. A blind man could tell. But just in case you’re not blind and you need proof, let’s examine the one place in every house where the differences are the most obvious - the bathroom.

(For argument’s sake, we’ll assume men and women have their own bathrooms, and neither one goes into the other’s. Granted, that’s totally unrealistic, but so is this story.)

First off, a woman’s bathroom is always so darn cheerful and bright. Why? Because they make sure all their light bulbs are working. Entering a guy’s bathroom is like entering a cave a mile underground. If one light bulb is working, then why bother with the others?

The next difference has to do with smell. A woman’s bathroom smells fresh and soothing, with the fragrance of potpourri and vanilla waltzing together inside a person’s nasal passages. Guys, on the other hand, forbid dancing inside their honkers. That’s why a man’s bathroom smells like Old Spice on a dead cow.

  
 
Let’s now move to the bathroom counter, a useful surface where women place a thousand bottles of lotion, face cream, and fingernail polish, all within easy reach. The bottles look a jumble, but they each have their own unique place in the universe, and to move even one would jeopardize life (generally a man’s) as we know it. In contrast, the only items found on a man’s countertop are a tube of toothpaste, deodorant and a comb. A man’s needs are simple, and being simple-minded is proof enough of our differences.

What’s underneath the sink? Well, in a woman’s bathroom there are cleaners, brushes, and detergents - things to make the bathroom sparkle like new, with nary a trace of germs or grime. Under a guy’s sink is nothing but a Sears Mastercraft Adjustable Wrench, a plunger, and a phonebook. The plunger for unstopping nasty clogs, the wrench to take apart pipes that refuse to be unclogged, and the phonebook for calling a plumber - just in case - to put everything back together again.

Next, hanging from the towel rack in a woman’s bathroom are face towels, hand towels, hair towels, body towels, and maybe even feet towels - most of them frilly and pink, with flowers. And how many towels are on a guy’s towel rack? Two. One commemorative Dallas Cowboy 1994 Super Bowl Championship Towel, the other a NASCAR Dale Earnhardt, Rest In Peace, Memorial Towel. Any more than two towels is just not guy-ish.

Toilet paper is the next big difference between the sexes. Women actually keep their toilet paper on the toilet paper holder, ready to be used in a moment’s notice. Toilet paper in a guy’s bathroom is either on the floor or in some other part of the house. (WARNING: When using a guy’s bathroom, it’s best to first find the TP before it’s actually needed.)

In regards to laundry: Not one article of dirty clothing will ever be found on the floor of a woman’s bathroom. They’ll be gently tossed in the dirty clothes hamper, waiting patiently to be washed. But in a guy’s bathroom, dirty clothes are all over the floor. In fact, they ARE the floor. These clothes, too, are waiting to be washed, but their patience is wearing thin.

And finally, everybody knows that the bathroom, for both men and women, is one of the best reading spots in the house. But what’s available to read makes it clear whose bathroom you’re in.

Magazines in a woman’s bathroom are neatly stacked in a wicker basket and contain the newest editions of Cosmopolitan, Woman’s Day and Redbook. The magazines are arranged in alphabetical order, by size, and not one page is bent or dog-eared.

The magazines in a guy’s bathroom are scattered all over the floor and are about fishing, NASCAR, plumbing and hunting. Some of the magazines don’t have covers. Some have been in the same spot for years. And if you want to see a prime example of a man’s ability to multi-task, just watch him sitting on the toilet while reading an article about field dressing a deer. (On second thought, let’s don’t.)

And with that lovely mental picture in mind, I now leave you to ponder the differences between the sexes on your own. May you make wonderfully fantastic discoveries, and may you live long enough to tell about it.

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