Freckled Things

I normally wear ankle socks, because it is too bleeding hot to wear anything higher here in this sweltering heat and humidity. But I love long socks. OTKs (Over the knees), knee-highs and thigh-highs. I would love to wear em to sleep, with a sweater/pullover/cotton-knit whatever to match. But, I'm still picky about designed etc. I especially like this website: www.sockdreams.com

Here are some examples (hint hint!!!):
Diamond Ribbed Knee-Highs (in black, bordeaux, charcoal, denim and navy):


Lemonade Stockings (in blackout, bittersweet brown, charcoal, and stormcloud blue):


Kimi Wool Blend Over-The-Knees (in burgundy, espresso and navy):


Dreamy Striped Tubes (in charcoal with olive & black)


N40S(in black, coffee, maroon, navy, olive and royal) [pictures unavailable]

Cronert Ribbed Wool OTKs (in Dark Brown, Jeans and Red Wine):


And you wanna know what's the best part, after all of this? Even if I do get these socks, I'm going to wear 'em only to bed! :D
 

First, you need to read this stupid article:
http://sg.news.yahoo.com/afp/20081114/ttc-lifestyle-britain-family-divorce-int-0de2eff.html

That silly woman divorces her husband on account that she found him getting intimate with some lady ONLINE. Then now, she's in love with some dude she games with in World of Warcraft. And for a moment, I was on her side, on rationale that he chose to watch virtual porn, over her. People. Pffft!

That aside, I went out for dinner with Reuben this evening. He treated me to Swenson's!!! He had Baked Rice with Fish, and I had Baked Rice with Beef!! And he ordered a side of fries. It was so funny! There was this couple, consisting of a caucasian guy and a chinese dude with the fakest accent ever sitting diagonally across me. And because the tables were really close together, not only could I hear them, they were in my line of view everytime I turned my head a notch to the left. AND THEY KEPT STARING. Although Reuben kept insisting that they were gay. Anyhow, later, whilst we were finishing our iced waters, and waiting for the bill, I told Reuben why they were staring. "BECAUSE THEY ARE WONDERING WHAT'S A GORGEOUS GIRL LIKE ME DOING WITH HIM."

WAHAHAHA! I'm so awful. But he makes fun of my lack of boobs too, so we're equal.

We went to Watson's too! Specifically, the outlet at Ngee Ann City, because that's one of the big ones. So they've got everything there. Or so I thought. Annoyingly, THEY RAN OUT OF STOCK OF SO MANY THINGS! Like: [yes, girly moment here]Charles Worthington Volumising Shampoo (they had the travel pack, but it didn't seem worth the price), Tsururi's Pore Peeling, Once a Week deo wipes (a scientific breakthrough!), Lavender Revitalising Body Scrub (thank God, I bought another one. The olive sea salt one. It's so much better..), Kenassy's Hair Remover Puff (another scientific breakthrough!). They had the Victoria Secret's lotion I wanted, but it was too expensive. So I hinted really obviously at Reuben :D


OH! And Reuben brought me to Zara, and I tried on two lovely coats, and he said if he earned big bucks, he'll buy a me any coat I wanted. So from tonight onwards, I'm going to pray really hard that he will earn big money :D The one I liked at Zara was about $259!! I love the Winter Fashion Scene. Cotton-knit sweaters, cotton-knit pullovers, cotton-knit scarves, cotton-knit fingerlings, cotton-knit blouses and long-sleeves, trench coats, any coats, knee highs and thigh highs. I was literally running around shops fiddling with this coat and that, hugging cotton knits and such. Sighhhhh.... People have asked, how am I to survive in cold countries when I can't in air-conditioned rooms in Singapore. The thing is, I love the cold. And I love even more the feeling of being all nice and bundled up in the cold, with only my face exposed to the harsh biting cold. That I like. That's why I like big beds and big quilts to get lost in. But, unfortunately, I'm stuck in this hell hole where it's sweltering hot and HUMID!

By the way, my favourite bat tree, with all the baby bats is GONE. The entire friggin' tree is GONE!!! They chopped it down!! *cries*
 

(/edit)
KERMIT! HOW COULD YOU!!! HOW COULD YOU MARRY, OF ALL PEOPLE, MISS PIGGY!!! HOW COULD YOU!?!??!!? YOU STUPID STUPID FROG!

Home Section

Longer Service, Far Better Rewards
In essence:

Singapore Airlines have reduced their gratuity payment from $15,000 to $10,000 upon completion of 5 years of service. BUT, "a bigger gratuity awaits those who stay on: Junior crew who stay 10 years, for example, will now collect $35,000-$5,000 (?? typo??) more than before."
I am now going to pick up beauty skills from Andri, and get my knees done, so that I can join the crew and earn money and fly all over the world! Yea!!

Yeah right. -.-"


Prepare for the 'Silver Tsunami' now
Basically, it's about how the aging population is increasing.

"No one would dream, in the Singapore context, of wanting to replace the family with an impersonal army of professional caregivers..."
Hello?? Knock Knock! What era is this writer living in? There are many Singaporeans out there more than willing to put their old fogies under an impersonal army of professional caregivers, than look after them themselves. That is of course, if they cannot just dump the old farts aside.

And that was my 2cents worth.

Now, for some random pictures that are long overdue, that I was just too lazy to upload until yesterday afternoon, (and even then, too lazy to post):

Kenneth and his shocking pink modules!

Me and my bid to annoy Andri, who hates my camwhoring next to her. Especially when she isn't in the picture looking pretty :D

Andri and I in Sepia. This is one camwhore moment she wouldn't mind. Tsk
Penshah and Kooshie in his pocket. Kooshie is Mellie's pig that hangs off her water bottle.

'Hween' Bobby. Ain't it cute??

So school's out, and I've been spending most of my time at home, watching the muppets, reading the papers, watching Are You Being Served. At this rate, I should be able to move to Allo Allo soon. Intend to finish SEA today. And I went to get my fringe cut yesterday. The following is the conversation between my sister and I, after I came back from the hairstylist:

Me: Jean! That stupid woman cut off my fringe!!!
[Jean proceeds to check out my forehead.]
Me: I told her to cut from her [pokes eyebrow] and slant downwards but she cut from here [jabs top of forehead] and ended here [pokes eyebrows]!!!!
Jean: Well, just show me your--
Me: And I obviously wouldn't have known on account that my glasses were off and I couldn't see anything---
Jean[frustrated]: JUST SHOW ME YOUR FRINGE!!!
Me[even more frustrated]: YOU'RE LOOKING AT IT!!!!
Jean: [her eyes open WIDE] OH.

 Muppet Rendition of Yellow by Cold Play:
 

By the way, if you're going to comment, LEAVE YOUR FRIGGIN' NAME.

I'VE GOT ONE SUBSCRIBER?!!??!!??!
*runs around in little circles!*

Yes, I am aware of the fact that it is only ONE. But still!!!!
Can't wait to get a new webcam and mic, then I'll go all the way!

WOOTS!
 

You guys should totally read this article:
http://www.asianewsnet.net/print.php?id=2065

My favourite part was this:
"Singaporean men marry foreign women because they are losers Singaporean women marry foreign men because Singaporean men are losers"
Bloody funny!!

Anyhow, school has been like a sedative during the week. Too many breaks, too few lessons. So, besides spending hours watching episode after episode of Are You Being Served? on the iPod, I've been cam-whoring. With Andri's phone. Just for the sake of annoying her :D


The classic two fingers. Whatever it means. Yay Mr Wallace! The second most charming man in school! (No one can replace the barbaric nature of Mr Spencer.)


I Love my Maroon Diesel Hoodie too, too much.



That annoyed her sufficiently :D

OH! I've gotten a few of my classmates hooked on Are You Being Served? including Andri and Kenneth! Kenneth liked the bit in the movie when Mr Lucas put the chattering teeth toy into the mannequin's underwear(crotch area).

One last one before I go:

Was watching some vlogs when I came across one by peron75. He was sharing about his days in 8th grade (13-14 years old), and asked for video responses. Was actually quite intrigued and wanted to do one of my own, except I really haven't anything to say about my life during those two years. Much deliberate thinking led my mind to wonder, and by some crack on the head by a passing angel, I decided to do one about kid logic--how we thought, as logically as possible, given what little we knew during those innocent years.

Kid Logic 1:
When I was about 9, that is, in Primary 3, I had one science lesson, whereby we were taught that metals contract and expand with change of heat. I thought about it a lot, and came to the simple conclusion, then, that the very reason why my brother remained skinny despite how much he ate was because he only bathed in cold water, and thus had contracted in size!

Kid Logic 2:
Also regarding my brother's scrawniness: Following the saying "You are what you eat." My brother's favourite food back then was beansprouts. He honestly loved them to bits. So I concluded that he was so scrawny, because he ate a lot of beansprouts and became as skinny, as humanely possible, as beansprouts were.

Kid Logic 3:
When I was much younger, I wasn't allowed to curse and swear or call my siblings names, lest I become a bad role model. That, however, did nothing to cure my temper--it just further exacerbated my frustrations. So I decided to come up with my own insults so ambiguous, they would sound as harmless as possible to my parents. That way, I could continue to call my sibling's names, and avoid punishment at the same time. I can't really remember them anymore, save for one, which was too ridiculous to forget:

Just for the sake of all ye, I shall explain it. Over-barbequed=burnt=annoyingly dry. Turkey, cos it seemed to fit. Without sauce=made it even more disgusting. Yea, something along those lines.

I am so embarrassed thinking about it now.

Kid Logic 4:
Had watched many cartoons about ancient tribesmen and how they used plants for wounds and ailments of all sorts. This led me to believe that ALL plants had healing properties. So, whenever I got cut by the sand in the playground, I would take a random leaf that was big and green, and wrap it round, say, my finger. It didn't help. It just itched. Pffft.

And that's pretty much all I can actually remember at the moment. Do a blog response or whatever if you wish.

FIRST: The ones taken by QY and I during one of our many econs breaks with her Nikon (? i think??) DSLR. In the process, we were disturbing Andri. Much to our delight.




NEXT: Photos from half an hour ago. I *lessthanthree* Dark Chocolate Banana Cake! :D
[And you will ignore the flinky hair. Went running earlier so had to tie and pin and everything else the darn thing up so that it wouldn't annoy me in mid-jog.]



And finally, miscellaneous (only because I'm too lazy).Bryan(cousin, not boyfriend) and I. I think I was, 2 or 3 then. Cute, no? An Grampy almost threw this picture away! Fortunately, The Sister saved it. Woots!

Yes, I love quirky titles like that, because I CAN get away with it. :D

MATH IS OVER. I DON'T HAVE TO DO MATH EVER AGAIN!!!!!!!
But! BOBBY WON'T DIE! SAY HELLO TO BOBBY!!
(and yes I like typing in big letters at the moment.)


HELLO BOBBY!!!
Bobby wears a skirt. And a pretty one too. And Bobby's a boy's name. But so is Charlie, and we have girls with the name Charlie.
Bobby's real name is Discombobulation. But that is quite a mouthful, so we'll just stick to Bobby.
Bobby is a sad thing. Bobby is always sad, and confused and frustrated, because that is what Bobby is. A sad, frustrated thing. It is Bobby's nature to be so. So regardless, Bobby will cry. Poor, poor Bobby. :( Only Death will redeem Bobby. (Is that a faint smile I see on Bobby? No, 'twas a figment of my chaotic and wild imagination.)
Bobby was conceived during last Friday's math class, and as a conceptualization/materialization/manifestation of a once abstract emotion known as Frustrationbecauseofmath-itis.
Bobby was suppose to die/go extinct/disappear/poof into mid-air this afternoon, at 5pm, marking the end of my A level examinations. BUT, out of the kindness of my heart, and the very fact that Bobby is so cute, Bobby shall Live. *cheers*
Bobby is often recognized by his cane, and his dead flower, and his five-cent tin-can hat.
Let us now, in celebration of Bobby's existence, and survival from near-death, mope and mourn with him, as he is accustomed to.

In other news: I'M IN LOVE WITH JASON MRAZ'S "YOU AND I BOTH". Click on the link and go listen! The MV for it is lovely too.

As you can see, quite clearly, I very very looney right now. High, even. Partly because the Math paper came from Mars (almost, very literally, and also because I NEEDN'T TOUCH MATH ANYMORE. So, naturally, I'm ecstatic. I shall now pop into bed without fearing nightmares of inequalities, and my inability to even do the simplest of problems, like simultaneous equations. (Yes, I am serious. And it is quite scary.)

And with that, I bid you Guten Nacht. Say Guten Nacht to Bobby! *resounding chorus: Guten Nacht, Bobby!*

I hate math. I really, really hate math. And what is more frustrating, is pure math. I really, honestly hate pure math. I know I really should not be complaining because, well, this opportunity to do my Math A levels this year, and thus, having all the time in the world to just concentrate on four subjects next year. Plus, this stupid subject, this bane of my life, takes up half my time. So, it's really good getting it out of the way. Which also means, all ye taking your Full A levels this year are probably cursing me for my luck, and failure to really enjoy it.
But the thing is, I am. I am enjoying ever sodding, minute of it. So, so friggin' much. Here, I'll show you just how much I enjoy it, by giving you an elaborate and detailed schedule of an average day:

Wake up.
Go to school.
Math (1 hour)
Math (1 hour)
Literature (1 Hour)
Break (2 hours)
Math (1 Hour)
Math (1 hour)
Math (1 hour)
Go home.
Rest for a bit (which includes bathing and such)
Dinner.
Computer surf (including the very painful process of willing myself to start on Math again.)
Math
Math
Math

I love Math. Can you see that? 20 1/2 hours of math a week, and that's just the math in school. There's more at home too! Lovely, ain't it? There's classes tomorrow too, which means I have to wake up at stupid o'clock, to go to school, for three hours of math, approximately four hours of break. And then PE. I HAVE TO WAIT FOUR HOURS BEFORE I GO TOSS A BALL AROUND FOR A BIT, BEFORE I CAN GO HOME.
[censored bit where I curse and swear under my breath]

But, can you blame me? Seriously. Try this. Study on SINGLE subject. Every friggin' day. At the minimum of 20 1/2 hours per week. You'd go sodding mad! For example:

MATHMATHMATHMATHMATHMATHMATHMATH
MATHMATHMATHMATHMATHMATHMATHMATH
MATHMATHMATHMATHMATHMATHMATHMATH
MATHMATHMATHMATHMATHMATHMATHMATH

Yes, I know, I've lost it. You needn't tell me.
BYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! *melts away*

 

'tis my tale of a love short-lived:

Had a three hour break after math today, for the last class being history (stupid, yes I know). Sat at one of the study tables with Rio, and watched as she undertook the challenge of cross-stitching. Along came Mr Cat, so I carried him for a bit, only because he was so absolutely adorable. Lets call Mr Cat something more affection: George. When I sat down again, George sauntered over, and very conveniently snuggled onto my lap. Naturally, I scratched behind his ears, ruffled his fur et cetera with the usual affection any cat-lover would shower upon a cat. Then, George decided that it was nice to sleep there and then, on account that it was a cold day, and he was on a soft nest (I had my arms around him, to make it cosier for him). So he tucked his head into the crook of my arm, and proceeded to nap.


Everyone, say Awwww.... *resounding Awwws*

Ah, yes. 'twas a happy moment, for both George, and I. For one whole hour I sat there, hunched, with a crick in the back, but yet not shifting lest I wake the poor dear up. After about an hour, dear, dear George woke up. He stretched for a bit, looked up at me with the most adorable, bambi eyes, gave a great big yawn, looked at my arm that had been his nest for the last hour, and HE BIT ME!!!
Arif says it's his way of expressing affection, because that's how animals do it. I've heard of a type of ancient tortoise, biting his mate's neck during mating, but CATS?! Do tell, is it true?? Because I am hurt (both Physically and Emotionally).

My Love for George was converted to Hate. The more I loved him, the more I hated him. VENGEANCE nagged in my heart, till I could hold it no longer, and spied on him. He had hurt me, so I shall hurt him back!
With my trusty camera, I secretly took photos of him in his most obscene of moments! I caught him engaged in one of his many vices. BUT HE WAS ACTING IN PUBLIC! 'TIS A PUBLIC OFFENCE!

He was so engrossed, he never realised I was there, snapping away with frenzied delight.

With love,
Your Ex-Lover <3

That aside, let me introduce you to my beloved math teacher who has never given up on me despite my more than obvious Mathematical Genius (or lack of it.)

Farmer/jiggly-puff/Mr See: THANK YOU SO MUCH!

I think it is no foreign affair to anyone when one brings up the issue of spam-mail and the likes. Chain letters, "pass-this-around-she-dies-although-she's-probably-dead-by-now-but-fuck-cares" sympathy mails, and the most classic of all, "let-me-deposit-a-few-whopping-million-into-your-bank-account-and-you'll-get-a-share" types. The last type, we get a lot of from many different countries including Nigeria, Turkey and God Knows where else.

I personally, enjoy receiving these letters, because I love to read them, and laugh. At how official the sender has made it seem (with, no doubt, much effort), the spelling and grammatical errors, the kind of big big names they use to make it seem even more realistic (God knows how that works out), and how they put their request across to you (usually some huge hoard of money belonging to a dead or exiled person stuck in a bank, and can only be released to no one else but a stranger.)

Just got one, from Russia. By some Mr David Isaackovich. With money belonging to an employer who dabbled in politics too much. A Mikhail Korbyvich. He must like "vich" very much. But that really wasn't the funny bit. The funny bit was how he had written the letter in perfect english. Seriously! No glaring grammatical errors, no funny oddities. None at all. Apparently, these dudes have been working on improving their language. One really must salute them for their increase in effort as con-stars. Who would have thought that one day, these bozos would realise that their emails are largely ignored because they wrote in terrible english??? Tsk.
 

Just a short clip from Blackadder. Have always enjoyed Rowan Atkinson's wit and such, and have found the series largely humourous. However, this clip, being the final scene of the series, is... sad. Painful, if anything. And it really just highlights the genius of Rowan Atkinson, ending the series as such. Without further ado, enjoy:



To Rowan Atkinson: Bravi.

Even after all this time, the sun never says to the earth, "You Owe Me". Look what happens with a love like that, It lights up the whole sky.
-Hafiz (Persian Poet of the 1300s)
Stupid food poisoning. ANYHOW, The Old Man was tinkering in the kitchen today, and he made a BLACKFOREST CAKE. An honest to goodness BLACKFOREST CAKE with the Dark Cherries, and everything. For the brother. But I shan't elaborate why.

First he baked the chocolate cake, then he cut it into three layers. Between each layer, he spread a generous serving of whipped cream which he had made earlier, plus a layer of preserved cherries mixed with Kirschwasser. After dealing with the layering, he covered the whole thing in whipped cream, pitted dark cherries, and grated chocolate, which he pelted on the sides. AND IT LOOKS PURDY!!

BUT! We had leftovers, so, I mixed everything up into a nice cup, and it looked like a pretty dessert! It was yummy too, so WOOTS!! [Yes, I'm high. It's the dehydration. I can't drink enough without regurgitating.]

ONWARD PICTURES! Because they tell all. Forgive the shaky hands, and poor lighting.

 

The woman wants to live her own life; and the man wants to live his; and each tries to drag the other on to the wrong track. One wants to go north and the other south; and the result is that both have to go east.

--Higgins, Act II
George Bernard Shaw
Pygmalion

Suddenly, I have this unexplainable urge to invest all my money in some good foodstuffs, from Carrefour, and prepare all sorts of simple, yet gastronomically orgasmic dishes, to tease the palate. Tease because that is really all I can afford. :D

Was stuck at Plaza Singapura this afternoon, as it was raining, and I being a lazy thing, did not bring a brolly along because I was too arsed to carry such a big bag. So I brought the teeny one. Much to my regret. Decided to roam Carrefour because, well I love galavanting in supermarkets, and also, given the recent exams, I really did not have the time. So I went window shopping at a supermarket, and was so tempted to buy so many things including: Feta, Buffalo Mozarella (they had the ball kinds, but they weren't made of buffalo's milk. And yes, I like em in balls.), Marsacpone, Creme Fraiche, mushrooms (all sorts), cherry tomatoes, alfalfa sprouts, salads, blackforest ham, butter croisants, cucumbers.... The list just goes on and on and on. But, for the love of my own sanity, and insatiable hunger, I resisted.
 

But there are quite a few simple teasers that I would love to try. Like, pita pockets stuffed with feta, or any kind of semi-soft white cheese, drizzled with olive oil and a generous sprinkle of dried mint, then toasted or grilled. Or grilled cherry tomatoes tossed with alfafa and chopped cucumbers in a red wine vinegar and olive oil dressing. Or, fresh salad veg (iceberg, romanian, spinach, alfafa, butterhead, cherry, cucumbers etc), topped with stir-fried mushrooms, stuffed into a nice butter croissant. And now, I'm hungry. I WANT CHEESE. I'd gladly munch on a ball of mozarella, or a tub of marscapone, or anything really. Even cream cheese. Yes, I love cheese. I'd love even more to take a slice of blackforest ham, wrap it around some cheese, wrap that with more blackforest ham, then stuff it into a croissant. Yuuuummmm.
 

And this is where I stop because if I continue, then I'd really splurge tomorrow. Sigh.

That was taken when my hair was in that in-between stage i.e. when it looks downright ridiculous but there really is nothing anyone can do about it if I want to actually grow it out. MR WALLACE IS SO CUTE!


Guo Wei's new Gatsby Rubber. He's very hair conscious. And that's our new mentor, Ashirah Green in the background. She's a lovely Bubbly lady.


Post-Museum, 109 Rowell Road. LOVELY PLACE. LOVELY DRINKS. LOVELY ATMOSPHERE. I <3


Dinner at Macpherson last night.


Bye braces. I'll miss you, but I'll never want you back. Two more days...

you're just too good to be true; can't take my eyes off of you

PROMOS ARE OVER!!! WOOOOOOTS!!!! *screams and runs around in little circles*
There was about 4 hot French guys and one French lady on the train just now. But I could not take photos :( Save for one miserable one. Yes that is evidence about how ditzy-ding-a-ling high I am right now. It's only normal.

Came home, dropped the bags, mumbled a gruff "hi" to The Mother, and then crashed on the couch. And now, I'm eating about half a tub's worth of ice cream. So be jealous wahahahah! It's kinda what promos does to you. I've never been so stressed over my exams before. Not even for O levels. Os I took it in a breezy sorta way. Study, then go take the paper, come home, and study easily. But for the last three days, I've been going to school way too early for me to lay claims to possession of any form of sanity.

Went early on Wednesday, because the Math paper was at 8. It was funny. It was a three hour long paper, but I finished it at 9.15am. After daydreaming. Then there's that bit about how Haziyah managed to smuggle in food. Candy and a honeydew! Tsk. Had a Literature paper after that. I actually bothered studying (somewhat) for Literature! I've definitely lost it.

Reached school at 7.22am on Thursday (yes, I do remember the time. It's because of worthless knowledge like that taking up precious space in my mind that has reduced me to having such a hopeless memory that I cannot rely on to remember important things.) Reuben was nice. He offered to tutor me on History---both international and SEA. Amelia joined us too. *reminices on old memories of Amelia spotting me mugging in the canteen and gasping in pure horror: "OMG NAN! Since when did you become so hard working?!" or something along that line* History was ok. Thank God for Reuben. He spotted all the right questions for me woots!

Had the CSE paper today. This time Lois and Andri told me what the questions were most probably going to be. And they were right. RAWR. It was an okay paper. A tad strange but oh well.

Shing-a-ding-a-lingy-ditzy-ring! OH! I had a strange dream (strange being a mild understatement)!!! I dreamt that I was a mother of FOUR KIDS (FOUR DAMNIT!) that look Eurasian or something. Hardly like me. At all. And we were having so much fun (God knows where I suddenly got the superhuman strength to lift one kid after another without feeling tired). And I was one of those online bloggers that blogged about their day and life and their blogs become really famous they end up earning money from it like pioneerwoman's blog. Too, too strange. No sign or mention of the Father though. Damn.

Amelia and Reuben and I were talking about names earlier. Reuben said after confirmation, he'll need to have a middle name. Christian one, of course. So I suggest James Paul. Reuben James Paul. Let that roll of your tongue. Nice eh? Then Amelia said she'd want to name her son Michael...something. Suddenly I forgot. Se what I said about how my brain really is nothing but a mess box of worthless knowledge? Anyway, then I decided that if I were to have kids, they must have classic Christian names. The boy's would be a strong smooth one: James Michael. And the girl's would be something gentler: Elizabeth Jane.

James Michael & Elizabeth Jane <3

Say hello to Flomps!

Interview with Dolly Parton:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LzNDFflbHsw

I love the way she describes her sense of fashion.

If you put a woman on a pedestal and try to protect her from the rat race: you’re a male chauvinist.
If you stay home and do the housework: you’re a pansy.
If you work too hard: there’s never any time for her.
If you don’t work enough: you’re a good-for-nothing bum.
If she has a boring repetitive job with low pay: this is exploitation.
If you have a boring repetitive job with low pay: you should get off your lazy behind and find something better.
If you get a promotion ahead of her: that is favoritism.
If she gets a job ahead of you: its equal opportunity.
If you mention how nice she looks: its sexual harassment.
If you keep quiet: its male indifference.
If you cry: you’re a wimp.
If you don’t: you’re an insensitive bastard.
If you make a decision without consulting her: you’re a chauvinist.
If she makes a decision without consulting you: she’s a liberated woman.
If you ask her to do something she doesn’t enjoy: that’s domination.
If SHE asks you: it’s a favor.
If you appreciate the female form and frilly underwear: you’re a pervert.
If you don’t: you’re gay.
If you like a woman to shave her legs and keep in shape: you’re sexist.
If you don’t: you’re unromantic.
If you try to keep yourself in shape: you’re vain.
If you don’t: you’re a slob.
If you buy her flowers: you’re after something.
If you don’t: you’re not thoughtful.
If you’re proud of your achievements: you’re full of yourself.
If you don’t: you’re not ambitious.
If she has a headache: she’s tired.
If you have a headache: you don’t love her anymore.
If you want it too often: you’re oversexed.
If you don’t: there must be someone else.

Now why do men die first?
Because they want to.