Chicks and Dudes

Some of my female friends have recently got on my case about my abundant use of the word “chick” in my blog. They feel that the term is degrading or whatever. I think that’s crap and I’ll tell you why.

For all my ramblings and rules and proclamations of relationship know-how, I’m actually operating under one very simple assumption. In my world, you are either a chick or a dude. I realize there are a lot of nutjobs in between but that’s for Dan Savage to work out, not me. In any case, a “dude” is someone who is very logical in nature and a “chick” is very emotionally adept. The clashing of these radical ways of thinking is what makes life interesting.

You really can’t get on my case either because this principle is based on scientific fact. Sure I’ve met a few women with a thought process like a cold calculating computer just as I have met a few men who are intimately in touch with their feminine side. However, in order to simplify things and drive my point into the ground, EVERYBODY is on one polar opposite of the logic/emotion spectrum or the other. It’s also far more entertaining.

If you have any other doubts about my vast reservoir of human knowledge, I also have first hand experience living among the female species on two non-consecutive occasions. I liken the experience to what Jane Goodall did studying gorillas in their natural habitat, except the exact opposite where it is the primates that are trying to figure out Jane. I learned all sorts of crazy shit from having female roommates. For instance, did you know that women hate it when you leave empty beer cans all over the house. I know, it’s weird!

I am going to continue to assert that I know damn near everything about chicks and dudes because it’s fun and it annoys my roommates and my roommate’s girlfriends.

In the meantime, ponder this, because this is ONE question I don’t have an answer for: How is it that I live with 5 other dudes including myself and the day my 6th roommate Abbey moved in, the entire house instantly smelled 50 times better? She didn’t even have half her stuff moved in and that distinctive boy smell (a hybrid odor of feet, laundry, and leftover farts) that plagues college housing across the country was completely gone.
Crazy.