Women are full of... brains. And yeah, we speak while our minds starts to assemble another schema that can make your nose bleed.
Always on a thought, can't stop thingkin'. Women are like that. Think—think—think! Can't stop thinking and damn we can't remember the time there’s a silence phase in our head. No more room for happy thoughts—it doesn’t happen and sometimes we can’t sleep, you know why? Because they won’t shut the hell up!
I’ll set an example. You’re lying in the bed and your mind is racing about nothing like;
‘I need to talk to her tomorrow coz I don’t like her speaking to me that way and I have this uncomfortable feeling…wait, did I lock the door? Did I bring my shoes in? Where’s my highschool yearbook? Hmmm what will do to lunch tomorrow?—I don’t know. Why do I think about lunch if I’ll took a good breakfast and that waffles at wafflehouse are good…that’s what I should do start a good breakfast…maybe it should be heavy and I will start one of those high carbs or with fibre coz I have to gain weight…some heavy syrup maybe…seems will work…is that healthy? Is that ok?...Who’s my third grade teacher…sino ba yung hayup nay un…pinatayo ako sa likod nun e…what was that name?…Ms. Sore…Ms. Tabukol…Mrs. Caldero…ay hinde grade one pala yun…Woohhh it’s late I need to go asleep! What the hell am I doing up?—I don’t know…LET ME THINK ABOUT IT.
That’s what us women is all about. I wish could think like men cause man they don’t think as half as much as we do. They don’t spend a lot of time thinking. They think about it, thought about and moving on. That’s it, that’s why they enjoy a lot of things. They enjoy a lot but not to think about it like ‘let’s do some booze—let’s see girls—they don’t mind—have a happy time’. For women, we think all the time, talk all the time. It’s so hard to articulate what we want, what we need, what we feel, torturing ourselves while avoiding the verbal word DIRECT. And if that happens, we run across for them to call us being the bitch. And we can’t handle that. We can’t handle being the stupid, the low thinker. That’s why women developed some kind of a strategy. Instead of being a moron, coming out and telling the guy something or asking the guy something, us—women turned out to be tricky. Do you guys wonder why women always looking at you like he’s going to eat you... alive... literally? Staring at the things you do, the things you said, always correcting you in every way, laying some sort of propaganda? Here’s a hint; Women are counting down the things you should or shouldn’t do, drafting the days how you will survive. A TEST, so to speak. Law Bar Exam ain’t nothing on us and men doesn’t realize that we failed them the test and nothing—Zippo! Have no idea that they taken it. Hell and misery and men were not aware the ordeal is in progress.
Here’s an example; when a guy usually goes home first and there’s a dirty dishes in the sink, they don’t even bother washing it. Instead they put their ass to the sofa and watch the late night TV. A minute or an hour later, she comes home and sees the dishes as if there’s a boat without a navigator. She will be pissed, and you knew damn well she will be, but you don’t even care to bother. She will look at you, smiling blandly, asking you your day, what did you eat, etc. while forcing herself not to be furious. She ain’t gonna say anything about what she discovered at the kitchen (trust me, ginawa ko na yan). And while you, getting comfy with beer and a remote on your hand, have no idea she’s downloading the things she sees, creating a folder with a little icon ‘asshole’ with your face on it that says DISHES and save to her brain. Three more days, dishes still there, but no words still. Then came fourth, fifth until the sixth and, you, the bastard, still withstand superiority. Until she finally decides to and double click that folder, saying ‘What is this guy telling me? Is he imploring that I’m the dishwasher around here? I’m put on this earth to wash the god damn dishes ‘coz I’m working too and hell will never do that!’... I will see how long this dishes pile up till he washed it.
Another week gone by and she’s pissed off finally, realizing that there isn’t any clean glass but toothpicks. She will not going to kill you by poisoning you—oh no, no. But you just let her open the gates of hell for you. And for women it doesn’t end there. Because women something pissed about in the kitchen, will end up in the bedroom while you guys have no hint about it. What was happened in that few weeks, shall snaps to your face. What guys capable of? You’re not getting laid for a few weeks just to let you know you fucked it up.
