Why I Deserve A Penis
Today, I have someone posting for me who I MET ON THE INTERNET. Do you remember when that was all scary and you had to be all, “I’m meeting someone FROM THE INTERNET” and then you were supposed to call and check in like 57 times with your BFF because Internet People were kinda like Mole People in that they rose from the Earth to kill you dead and were all all be shifty-eyed and shady?
And now, just LOOK AT US ALL!
(shifty-eyed and shady!)(also: pantsless!)
Anyway, this is The Next Martha, who is my friend in real life, which goes to show that I CAN MAKE FRIENDS (let’s be friends, Pranksters!), dammit, and that Internet People can also wear pants sometimes! Like me! Just not right now.
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Here’s the situation. It’s not that I believe that penises are better than what I have because let’s face it, they’re not. I don’t see 8 lbs of anything coming out of their pipe. It’s just that being a woman and not having a penis really pisses me off when it comes to dealing with men.
For example: I decide to hire someone to help me with some of the edging and mulching that I am clearly not going to get to this year.
Man shows up. I show him the back (which sounds way dirtier than it is) and make some small talk about gardening, since he is in the biz after all.
Me: “So you see many butterflies this year?”
Man with Penis: “I think so.”
Me: “Really? Because I have hardly seen any.”
Man with Penis: “You know there’s plants you can attract them with.”
Me: “You mean like those? (I say as I point to my 8ft by 20ft butterfly garden)
Blah, blah, use us, blah, blah, easy job, blah
Man With Penis: “Oh and I only use American workers”
Me: “Oh?”
Man With Penis: “You know because you don’t want a bunch of Mexicans walking around your yard.”
If I had a penis, this is where I would whip it out, lay it on the patio table, and challenge him to a table check: “Okay, time to do a table check because I’m pretty sure mine is bigger and you should just shut your ass up now.”
Instead, I have no penis so I say:
“Oh, well I speak fluent Spanish so it wouldn’t bother me.”
I’m sure we can all agree that table checking our penises is clearly a superior scenario.
This type of situation happens to me all the time.
I take care of ALL of our outside services. I deserve a penis.
Phone rings. I pick up.
“Hi, Can I speak to the man of the house?”
I HAVE caller ID so I know it’s a damn lawn guy pulling his out early. Too bad it’s only a 6.
What’s that? Did you just challenge me? It’s penis time:
“Thanks for calling. Mine is 9 and a half so trust me when I say that I can handle the lawn, if you know what I mean.” I wish he were here so we could just have the conversation at the patio table.
Instead, I have No Penis:
“No, you can’t talk to him because he doesn’t even know what NPK is and I take care of the lawn.”
See? Penis time wins again.
Don’t even get me started with tools. I have a tool chest, jig saw, drill press, belt sander, and a compound miter saw. My tools. M-I-N-E. Oh, and can I use them. I know this makes you hot. That 9.5 just became 10, right?
So when I’m at the hardware store and the guy says “Do you know if you have a drill?” It’s table time again and I’m tempted to whip it out and smack his face with it. Or something like that. Not sure exactly but you get the point.
If I could order one for these situations, I would. I’ll even pay the overnight shipping because I have a contractor coming over on Thursday for a paint estimate.
I wonder how he’ll size up.
And let’s not forget the car dealership, where it’s all penis, all the time. I don’t care if you’re buying the cheapest Kia on the market or the Lamborghini!
I LOVE to go to car dealers. I actually talk to a neighbor who is a mechanic and I CAN talk my way around a car. Oh, yeah. Suck it.
Oh yeah. I was the car person in my previous marriage. I was test driving a car once, and a coworker went with me, not because he was a guy, but he was my lunch buddy, and was just tagging along.
The dealer actually showed me the bitch mirror while I was test driving it, and I caught a look from my friend in the back seat as he put his head down and started to shake it.
I’m pretty sure that guy’s penis was TINY.
Aunt Becky, those dudes are always frontin’ because they HAVE a penis! If you had something like that–all ready to fall off at any moment–you’d be just as worried and paranoid all the time and asking if people knew if they knew if they had penises at home, too.
Anyway, I found your site because I googled “vodka penis.” Intrigued?
I’m so happy I found you.
Are you named Aunt Becky because of Full House?
I meant to post this at the bottom.
I’m so with you on this one! Great post.
Thanks!
I once had a tele-marketer ask to speak to the man of the house, to give him some reference number. When I asked why, she said that it was company policy to only speak to the husband. I told her I was a lesbian, and in our relationship, I WAS the husband. Never heard from her or the company again. Full of the awesome….
What?! I KNEW it. That’s it from now on when they ask for him, I’m gonna say “Are you required to ask for him because trust me, I own his dick.”
I need to hear how that goes!
Nice reply!!!
Holy crap that’s the best idea EVER!!!
O.M.F.G. Happens to me All. The. Time. Why is it so fuckin hard to believe that a woman knows her way around power tools (not just the ones in the kitchen)…or her car?? I need a penis for those situations. Even better situation: before we bought our house (and a shed full of power tools), we asked a friend to borrow a drill. Friend asked “Right or Left Handed?” I asked Mr Realist (grinning because I knew the answer was 12). He proceds to tell him “Right because I’m right-handed.” O Mr Realist, I love you, but I’m glad I’m the handywoman around the house.
Fuckin Neanderthals.
I’m still waiting for it. I’m feeling about a 12.5 would do the trick.
I wish I was little bit taller,
I wish I was a baller
I wish I had penis that looked good
I would holla
I wish I had a rabbit in a hat with a bat
and a ’64 Impala.
Sorry. I seem to have seriously lost my mind.
True that, sista! I wish I had one earlier this week when the ENT acted like I was a lame-ass little lady who couldn’t handle the truth. . . or that he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. Long story short, he wasn’t sure if my daughter’s apnea is obstructive or central. When questioned what central he he glazed over something that the brain tells the body to stop breathing, but the sleep clinic would tell me more. When I said, “You either tell me now or I go Google it and scare myself.” Instead of explaniing it, he told me, “Then don’t go on the computer and research it.” Jack ass!
Did I mention that he talks very suggestively to his female staff members? I bet they wish they had a penis, too.
Needless to say, I am going to find another ENT that doesn not feel he has to overcompensate with a shitty attitude bc of his small penis.
Hope to meet you at BlogHer!
Yeah, yeah, yeah!
What if you were a single mum – like I was for a year and a half (have myself a toy boy of 67 now) – no one to ask, no one else to make decisions, you are IT!
Keep asking for managers until the practice stops!
Maria
Good freaking call. I was a single mom, too, and the same sort of shit happened. Well, I AM it, actually, for most of the week, and it STILL happens. And I am the head of the house, dammit, and still, I get the same crap. It’s awesome.
You know I am willing to be your sparkly crabby fried. Jazzed about meeting up with you at blogher.
My fake penis moved a little when you were talking about your tools.
Also, it’d be really great to pee anywhere.
And give mushroom prints. Lots of ’em.
I am SO with you on this one. “I” am the one who owns the power tools, fixed the fence when it blew down, built the beautiful built in entertainment center which holds the home theater that “I” installed. Men score serious points with me when they take my question at face value and answer it seriously. Nothing PISSES ME OFF MORE
I’m the dude. I don’t have a penis, but I’m the dude. Period. And when other dudes don’t recognize, I’m Furious George.
Not only would I pay for the overnight shipping, I would even spring for the extended warranty, if only to have one for trips to Home Depot!
We could just strap one on, right? Man, that would rule.
Hell ya. My asshat lawn care service changed the Ms Neeroc to Mr. this year and it pisses me right off. Mr. would pave the damn lawn if given half a chance, *I* take care of the lawn care dudes you damn well talk to me.
And I seriously want to stomp someone when they start talking to my husband about my motorcycle or car. I ride it, I brought it in, I’m paying, you talk to me. Luckily, hubby knows enough to direct em back to me. I think I may have threatened bodily harm with my bandsaw or router. He’s a quick learner.
I’m usually happy to pass off any lawn care guy to “my husband” only so I don’t have to deal with them annoying me when I tell them I don’t want their crap. Then, I never actually GIVE them to anyone who can help them. They’re such assbags.
(continuing the post the magically submitted itself when I hit the wrong key from typing too fast)
Nothing PISSES ME OFF MORE than to have an old white dude sales guy assume that I have no idea what I’m talking about when I ask for something very specific at the hardware store. Yes, I really do just need to find *that* kind of clamp for my project.
Did you know slapping someone in the face with a penis is called smurfing? The more you know…
I call it “Mushroom Printing.” Hence the name of my other blog.
Mushroom printing I get. I don’t get why it’s called smurfing. Though from what I was told yesterday (perfect topic for lunch with the girls btw), smurfing is specific to the face while mushroom printing may be achieved on any part of the body. Rock on.
I’m not very knowledgable about the gardening stuff, but it is SO FRUSTRATING at the dealership. Does my money not pay the bills the same way as “male money”?!?
Nope. AND you’re dumb. Sorry. You can’t POSSIBLY know ANYTHING. Because you have a vagina. I had a car dealer once try to tell me “hey, yeah, you can drive a tiny rear wheel drive car in the winter in the Midwest! NO PROBLEM!”
Wow. I just stumbled over here while blog surfing at work and I haven’t laughed this hard in a REALLY long time. I too wish I had a penis for these exact types of situations. Oh and I could use one at work when someone mistakes me (young female attorney) for the file clerk and asks me to get him coffee.
In my own house, which, I should say, I OWN, I get asked ALL THE TIME by people coming to my door, IF MY MOTHER IS HOME.
When asked that question, the best response is to say “no, I’m just the babysitter” because you really don’t want to talk to the salesperson anyway.
Just tell ’em your balls are bigger then theirs; they’re just much higher and can feed children.
I’m always tempted to put on a beard & mustache when I have to take the car into the shop but I think at 5’4″ I’d count as wussy man & be taken advantage of anyway
Seriously? I totally relate to this post… I was making my husband install some child locks on the cupboards and he looked at me with the power drill in his hand (my drill BTW) and said, I cant get this screw out! I asked him if he had the drill going the right direction, he looked down and turned bright red. Yeah, I kind of wanted to punch him. I just found you this week and have been going over your old posts.. I have to say Aunt Becky, Im falling hard for you! =)
We call that Man Levels in our house. There are 5 man levels. Knowing how to tie knots, prolly Man Level 1; Killing someone as a soldier: Man Level Five. Oil Change: Man Level 2. Having a pocket knife and knowing how to use it: Man Level 2 maybe 3. Operating Power tools; Level 4, etc. Out of the men in my family, they roundly agree I have more man points than most of them do.
You so deserve a penis! Let me know when you figure out how to get one!! I believe that I too am deserving.
I don’t have a penis either. But I do keep my husband’s ball in my purse. He only has one. (Lost one in his last divorce, doncha know.) I let him borrow it when he has an important meeting or needs to show the crew who’s boss. The rest of the time I keep it tucked between my tampon and my kazoo.
You should have the right to carry around a big plastic schlong for this reason and just smack men right across the face with it when the need arises.
I want one too.
I totally <3 you. There was one Christmas where my hubby got kitchen gadgets and I got power tools. It totally rocked!
I don’t use power tools but I sure as heck make most of the decisions around here.
I feel you. I need one for the trips to Home Depot. And I could’ve totally used one when we went to buy our van. Stop looking at my man, he just cares if it gets him from point A to point B. I’M the one who knows about mileage, safety ratings, etc. I’M the one who spent three weeks on the Interwebz researching VIN histories and car specs. (They did learn, but it took them a while. Penis checks would save me so much time and aggravation.
I don’t think you could handle the power and responsibility! 😉
I do think a penis would come in handy at times like those- or a big ass bat. The “mexican” thing pissed me off- why do you assume I’m a big fat ugly racist like you?
I do like how boobs work too- and I am willing to jiggle them a little sometimes- they are very helpful when at the grocery store and I can’t reach things on the top shelf.
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As a military wife, I have to say I encounter this WAY more than I would like to. I AM “the man of the house” for half the year (unless you want to deal with my 2 year old but I am guessing that wouldn’t be very productive). I took my car in to be serviced and they asked if I wanted a bunch of extra stuff. Unnecessary stuff. They made it sound like I HAD to have it. I declined. They kept pushing. I said NO (this is probably my fault somehow for being 6 feet tall, VERY blonde, and wearing a miniskirt). They offered to call my husband. I said “Go right ahead, but he’s in Iraq so he probably won’t answer”. They STILL pushed. I grew up with a bunch of brothers, and a marine for a father. I was the only homecoming queen to EVER take auto shop. I am NOT stupid when it comes to cars. Finally I said “Call my father, he’ll give you the patriarchal high five you seem to need to service a NEW car”. Surprisingly, they called my father. BAD CHOICE. Meanwhile my 2 year old son is spreading cheerios all over a model car but at this point I don’t care. In fact, I am secretly willing his little diaper to spring a leak all over the overpriced leather interior of the model car that is wide open in the showroom. My father answers, and the man at the counter says “I just want your daughter and adorable grandson to be safe”. Note the use of the innocent baby to try and sway my FATHER into saying *I* need a $2000 upgrade on my BRAND NEW SUV. Seriously, it’s 2 years old, I needed some fluid THATS IT! My imaginary penis is twitching in anticipation of my father ripping this guy up. The man is silent for about 5 minutes. During this time, the color DRAINS from his face. He is CLEAR, not white. Then he says “Yessir, sorry to have bothered you”, Hangs up, and turns to me.
“Ma’am, I am sorry to have disrespected you like that. I am going to check all your fluid, and throw in a car wash, detailing, tire rotation, and oil change on the house. And if you need ANYTHING just call me [hands me a business card] and I will see what I can do to get it for you on the house or for what it costs us.
I also had a body shop tell me that I had to have a new compressor and they couldn’t put the serpentine belt to bypass the faulty air conditioner. I said “Oh really? Because if your do THIS (moved something) THIS (moved something else *grabbed a wrench* *pulled out faulty part* *rerouted with new belt* and THIS (tosses part aside and tightens screws* It’ll work. Can I have my keys? It’ll work just fine now I really just wasn’t sure if my auto shop education was that good.. I guess it is! Do I have to pay for this since I DID IT MYSELF???” (The answer was a resounding “NO”, and again, I was wearing a miniskirt as I was doing the car work…I wear those a lot apparently!) I got another 50,000 miles out of my beat up little chevy- AND the rest of my college career before i bought another car!
*slams imaginary penis on the table…it’s a foot long*
I still don’t know what my dad said to make it clear to the dealership that I was not to be messed with…but I hugged him next time I saw him. I am STILL getting free oil changes.
Great post Martha, I really enjoyed it!
And doesn’t it piss you off when you overhear other women saying things like, “Oh! I will have to get my husband to hang that 5X7 framed photograph when he gets home. I’ve been trying to get him to hang that picture for weeks and he just can’t find the time!”
I get a mental image of some dickwad pulling out a sledge hammer, power drill with ten million bits, three foot level and a gallon of Spackle. The wife looks horrified and slams her hands over her ears saying “OOOOOH, I BET IT’S GOING TO BE LOUD!”, running from the room and slamming the door while simultaneously screaming at all the kids to stay out of that side of the house because daddy has “MAN WORK!”! Then dickwad pushes a straight pin through the sheetrock with his thumb, hooks the picture on it and sits down to flip on the TV and drink a beer undisturbed for three hours.
Yes. I have an honorary penis, too!
I seriously played out the whole penis table check senario in my twisted little mind and it was absolutely fucking hilarious, except for my way ended with a duel and not in a gay way but in a I need to pee all over the place to mark my territory kind of way. Weird.
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i will make sure to bring my extra penis with me to blogher. you can borrow it but make sure to clean it off when you’re done smacking people in the face and showing them your back.
Love it! Strong, knowledgeable female that can challenge a man. Whip out that penis!
I call this Mad Men Mentality(M&M&M)…you know when life was all rosey and women were “stupid”. I can dick wag with the biggest of them.
I was totally not wearing pants while reading this post. I guess I’m a creepy Internet mole. Or just a really busy mom. Whatevs.
having a cock is a pretty rad thing and with great responsibility comes great power. Or something like that. My only suggestion, if you ever were to get your own tool, is to get that shit snipped–that way you won’t end up on Springer or Maury with some whiny baby mama…
When the Mormon missionaries come to visit I tell them come back when person without a penis can be god of her own world, and until then, pack sand.
I don’t know how to get you pranksters your well deserved penises, but I do know what to say to a racist when starting a fight just isn’t a good idea – like when the fat redneck roofer has removed your roof, but not yet put the new one on. Better not to piss him off if you want that roof over your head. So when he remarks about the Mexicans or the Muslims or the amputees or the (insert race, religion, handicap here), i smile sweetly and say,
“Clearly, you haven’t met my husband.” This is ALWAYS followed by stunned silence, and every time but once with embarrassment (some people are just too dumb to embarrass). There’s nothing to argue about, you haven’t disagreed with him or told him he’s a dickwad. And I figure they’ll do a better job trying to make up for insulting you than they would for having you argue with them. Point made.
Love. This. Post.
I laughed so hard. My boyfriend tells me I have penis envy all the time. This is a good reason though. I know how you feel. I hate it when men think just because they have an appendage they have more brains. Oh yeah? Well my junk is on the inside, well protected from knees and other potential hazards so there 😛
Aunt Becky, you crack me up! I’m almost 30 years old and I’m still pretty sure that I’m a boy underneath all this skin. Not because I have some strange internal conflict and think I should have been born a man, but because I tell all my guy friends “I can burp, fart, shit and spit better than you.” It’s time that we (the non-penis whoa men) stand together. I’ll get to designing those 9.5 inchers right away! Oh wait… I think that’s called a strap-on. Dammit! I hate when someone beats me to the punch!
Sister, if you knew about all the stupid shit penises make you think and do, you would eat those words but quick.
Isn’t there a movie called “Big” where the chick makes a wish and the next day she wakes up with a dick? And before you know it, she’s in jail for any number of disgusting and aggressive crimes? Well, there should be.
I think vaginas are much more useful. They get you out of speeding tickets and can qualify you for valuable discounts on all kinds of goods and services, while penises only cause trouble.
So a few years back, I had to replace part of one of the steps on my front porch. Only part, mind you – I needed one board, six inches wide and 34 inches long.
So into Home Depot, with my measurements, for pressure treated lumber.
The person there wanted to know WHY I need a 1×6 cut to 34 inches.
So I (briefly) explained, and HE proceeded to tell me, oh, no, that’s not going to be wide enough.
My husband knew enough to take two steps back while I explained quietly and clearly that yes, it would, in fact be exactly wide enough, and that I probably have a better grasp of how to use a damn tape measure than HE did and that although I don’t sport the same “junk” he does (or possibly BECAUSE I don’t), I am not an idiot.
I am so with everyone on this one. I have had a car salesman actually tell me they’d be happy to show me a car when I came back with my husband. When my husband has been with me to car shop, even for his own vehicle, he knows well enough to keep redirecting the salesman to me for any questions and for the final decisions. I owned a wide variety of tools when we married and I am still the owner of all the tools 10 years later. I once got up at 4 am on the day after Thanksgiving to go to Home Depot and get the deal on the power tool set for ME for Christmas. I put together our new bed yesterday. I handle the checkbook and manage the bills. If a salesperson/tradesperson isn’t happy talking to me, then they aren’t getting any of our money!
[…] Jacksonville it’s all the shitty fans fault. Fuck you fans, is what I’m sure he said. Mommy Wants Vodka: Clearly I’m not in the typical demographic for this website and yet I still read it almost […]
Told my older, fairly straight-laced sister about this post today after we had an experience with a wall/ceiling washer guy who didn’t want to tell us what was in the “enzyme” solution he uses to get the crud off of said walls and ceilings. I told him I wanted to know the chemicals he’s using as we are having my mom’s house cleaned up and she’s newly off of a ventilator (long boring smoking emphysema EVERYBODY STOP SMOKING NOW story <<sorry, said I would never become one of those people but once you've seen what I saw this past week, you don't get to choose any longer … you BECOME one of THOSE people) and shouldn't be breathing residual chemicals of some kinds.
He responded, was I asking for the secret recipe? To which I replied, I don’t think so, I do not aspire to cleaning peoples grotty walls and ceilings for a living but I would like to run the compound by my father in law chemist before hiring them …
So I was saying to my sister, wouldn’t it have just been easier to slam my dick on the counter, than to put up with that shit? Thanks, Aunt Becky, once again you’ve given me a reason to press on with a smile. And my sister too. SLAM!
[…] Mine’s bigger. […]