Men are a different species

This post was originally published on January 26, 2002.

A couple of days ago, I was in the lunchroom at work, standing in line to pay for my purchase. I work at a college. You need to know that, because the age of the person in front of me was approximately college-aged boy. The age of the person he was talking to (manager of the lunchroom; cashier) was estimated to be a few years out of college, or maybe still in college, too. The student in front of me was discussing his class with the manager, and then quickly devolved into puns about his lack of class, which moved to how that helped him in spitting contests. At which point the manager said, “I knew two guys who got into a puking contest once.” I listened in horror, then College Boy left and it was my turn to pay. And I found I couldn’t keep still. I said to the manager:

“You aren’t just another gender, you guys are an entirely different species. There is not a woman in the world who would ever even conceive of getting into a puking contest.” The manager laughed. I shook my head.

It’s true. Men really are a different species.

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11 Responses to Men are a different species

  1. Meryl, though I hesitate to support your contention that “men are a different species,” your writing of men discussing a puking contest compels me to supply another outraegous puking story example in support of the contention.

    While stationed at Pearl Harbor in the early 1980s, serving in the U.S. submarine service, a drinking contest was underway known to many individuals as “quarters.”

    Most individuals play the game of quarters by attempting to bounce a quarter into a beer, and, if successful, pointing to another participant in the game who must then drain the beer. Myself, and several other of my boat mates, were playing quarters, not with beer, but Wild Turkey, and one participating individual was “forced” to down four healthy pours of Wild Turkey in a row in rather quick succession. Upon downing the fourth, the indivdual immediately puked, which occasioned much laughter. Immediately after puking, one of the other participants in the game dared the retcher to eat his puke, to which the retcher replied “20 bucks.” 20 bucks quickly hit the table, so the retcher grabbed a spoon, spooned up a healthy portion of what he had so recently disgorged, and down the hatch it went, followed by a quick shot of Wild Turkey. Needless to say, we were all impressed, especially upon continuation of the game when the retcher was “forced” to down two more healthy pours of Wild Turkey in a row, which he did with nary a burp or shudder.

  2. Yeah. Different species. If you find a story of women doing anything remotely like that, I’d have them tested to be sure they’re not men.

  3. Sarah G. says:

    Thaaaaat’s disgusting!

  4. Jay Tea says:

    Would you think more or less of me as a guy if I said I shared your disgust at this one? And would NEVER do such a thing?

    Of course, belching and farting contests are entirely different matters…

    J.

  5. Jay, I think better of you. I know there are guys out there who would never do that sort of thing. But there are also extremely few women who would ever get into a farting contest. Maybe a few more with the belching thing, nowadays.

    Both my brothers lit their farts during their teen years. I do not know a single woman who ever did that.

  6. Jay Tea says:

    There’s another thing: I would NEVER light a fart.

    I’d rather not be charged with arson.

    J.

  7. Scott says:

    My wife’s friend in school loved to light her farts, burning her panties.

  8. Scott: hear, hear! So, I guess not all that different.

  9. Sorry, but one story of one woman lighting her farts does not make it a frequent thing. There are exceptions to every rule, of course.

  10. John F. MacMichael says:

    Reminds me of a line from a female comic (whose name, alas, I have forgotten): “Single men do not live like people; they live like bears with furniture!”

  11. Google says that was Rita Rudner. I loved her comedy routines. And Paula Poundstone’s, and Elayne Boosler’s. Boosler was probably my favorite. She wasn’t in her thirties. She was in her twenty-teens. I used that one for the entire decade when I hit thirty. “I’m twenty-ten. I’m twenty-thirteen.”

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