<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;C0YGRX89eCp7ImA9WhRRFEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186</id><updated>2011-11-27T16:45:24.160-08:00</updated><category term="Introduction" /><title>Mars My Arse!</title><subtitle type="html">THE MODERN WOMAN’S GUIDE TO MEN.
An unqualified insight into the male mind answering common questions from a male perspective on love, sex, cellulite, relationships, toothpaste and much more!</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>29</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/MarsMyArse" /><feedburner:info uri="marsmyarse" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcGRXs4cSp7ImA9WxNUFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-4972598764591692331</id><published>2009-11-05T11:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T11:40:24.539-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-05T11:40:24.539-08:00</app:edited><title>A random thought</title><content type="html">There we were, watching some inane programme on the TV when I realized it was our anniversary. Now keeping in mind both my partner and I have been frantically busy it was little wonder each of us (appeared) to have forgotten this event. In order to gain some brownie points for at least remembering the occasion, I leaned across, planted a kiss on her forehead and whispered "Happy Anniversary" into her ear.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She pulled back and gave me one of those quizzical looks that only women can do so well and quietly replied; "After all these years you still fill me with wonder."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was deeply touched by these words and, gazing lovingly into her eyes said I felt the same about her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Oh no." she replied,"I think you misunderstand me; I'm filled with wonder as to why I've stayed with you for all these years!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once again, the quick female wit had gotten the better of me and I found myself unable to come up with a pithy retort. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh well, I suppose I deserved it for for not marking our anniversary in some way. Note to self that next year the "Happy anniversary" words need to be accompanied by something from Tiffany's.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-4972598764591692331?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rWBANAhr_DQrymVrMa-EBw3QO_s/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rWBANAhr_DQrymVrMa-EBw3QO_s/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rWBANAhr_DQrymVrMa-EBw3QO_s/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rWBANAhr_DQrymVrMa-EBw3QO_s/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/qmlgoccnoo8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/4972598764591692331/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/11/random-thought.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/4972598764591692331?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/4972598764591692331?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/qmlgoccnoo8/random-thought.html" title="A random thought" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/11/random-thought.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEQNQ345cCp7ImA9WxNUE00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-5356782334075531099</id><published>2009-11-03T19:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T19:46:32.028-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-03T19:46:32.028-08:00</app:edited><title>Are there stages of sex during a relationship?</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;The male view of the various stages of sex during any relationship probably varies from that of the female. Rather than delve into what the hell, the females view is I’ve simply list the three know to man.&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Stage One&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;House Sex; this will take place anytime, anywhere.&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Stage Two &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;Bedroom Sex; only in the bedroom; only at night; only with the lights turned off.&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Stage Three&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;Hallway Sex; where you pass each other in the hallway and say “Fuck You!”, “No. Fuck you!”&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-5356782334075531099?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qDGuNdS0iZv3YczBGXvU0OsSNYI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qDGuNdS0iZv3YczBGXvU0OsSNYI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qDGuNdS0iZv3YczBGXvU0OsSNYI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qDGuNdS0iZv3YczBGXvU0OsSNYI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/GY7ycFjn2oM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/5356782334075531099/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/11/are-there-stages-of-sex-during.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/5356782334075531099?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/5356782334075531099?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/GY7ycFjn2oM/are-there-stages-of-sex-during.html" title="Are there stages of sex during a relationship?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/11/are-there-stages-of-sex-during.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8GSHg_eip7ImA9WxJaEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-3406183785253787347</id><published>2009-08-02T13:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-02T13:10:29.642-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-02T13:10:29.642-07:00</app:edited><title>Why don’t guys help around the house?</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;You look on our reluctance to help you with household chores as just being part of an inherent laziness for all things domestic. To some extent this assumption is true. The real answer to the question is, why and how did we become this way in relation to domesticity? The answer, or blame, once again can be laid firmly at the feet of the female species in general. Ask any man how his attempts at assisting with household chores were received and you will usually be furnished with the  same reply; I did all the dusting and vacuuming and then she spent the next half hour pointing out all the things I’d missed and ended up having to redo it all herself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Now that you know the rationale behind our reluctance to assist round the house, please keep in mind that you can either ask us to do something, or tell us how you want it done. Not both.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: red; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-3406183785253787347?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2ZIDktU84UlDFtG4EBBKP5JOXRs/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2ZIDktU84UlDFtG4EBBKP5JOXRs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2ZIDktU84UlDFtG4EBBKP5JOXRs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2ZIDktU84UlDFtG4EBBKP5JOXRs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/42uPJ6IDcNo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/3406183785253787347/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/08/why-dont-guys-help-around-house.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/3406183785253787347?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/3406183785253787347?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/42uPJ6IDcNo/why-dont-guys-help-around-house.html" title="Why don’t guys help around the house?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/08/why-dont-guys-help-around-house.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkAMQHsyeCp7ImA9WxJUF0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-3051542369017584011</id><published>2009-07-16T14:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T14:13:01.590-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-07-16T14:13:01.590-07:00</app:edited><title>Do men understand what women experience with PMS?</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;PMS; who would think that three such innocuous letters could spread so much fear and terror into the heart of even the strongest male? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yes, we do know the usual definition of PMS but prefer to have a selection that we males more readily relate how we conceive what you’re going through to –&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;ul style="margin-top:0cm" type="disc"&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; Pass My Shotgun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Psychotic Mood Shift&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Pissy Mood Syndrome&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Plainly; Men Suck&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Pack My Stuff&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Potential Murder Suspect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;For males, PMS is always an ideal time to purchase your partner a gift. The present should generate approximately five minutes of peace, which although may not seem much, when you’re experiencing an emotional hurricane, even reaching the eye of the storm is somehow satisfyingly, calming.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 32px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;(In the event my wife is reading this, none of the above has ever applied/ related to her)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-3051542369017584011?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YA3sx9a5MxO3iSfiB4Dkd-mvdWY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YA3sx9a5MxO3iSfiB4Dkd-mvdWY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YA3sx9a5MxO3iSfiB4Dkd-mvdWY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YA3sx9a5MxO3iSfiB4Dkd-mvdWY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/oua4NTK8A9g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/3051542369017584011/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/07/do-men-understand-what-women-experience.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/3051542369017584011?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/3051542369017584011?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/oua4NTK8A9g/do-men-understand-what-women-experience.html" title="Do men understand what women experience with PMS?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/07/do-men-understand-what-women-experience.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUNRXo4eyp7ImA9WxJUE0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-1467435383252361564</id><published>2009-07-11T17:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T17:24:54.433-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-07-11T17:24:54.433-07:00</app:edited><title>Why can’t a woman say the “L” word first?</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;mso-layout-grid-align:none; text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Women can generally say the "L" word first only in the following circumstances – &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:36.0pt;text-align:justify;mso-layout-grid-align: none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;·&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The man is dying with no hope of recovery.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:54.0pt;mso-add-space: auto;text-align:justify;text-indent:-18.0pt;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops: list 54.0pt;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;·&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It's in the heat of passion thus giving an 'out' if the situation becomes 'uncomfortable' afterwards. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:54.0pt;mso-add-space: auto;text-align:justify;text-indent:-18.0pt;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops: list 54.0pt;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;·&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;His mother asks what your intentions are with her son. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left:54.0pt;mso-add-space:auto; text-align:justify;text-indent:-18.0pt;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list 54.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;·&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;You’ve&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; been living together for the past few months. (Please refer to the 'Stages of a relationship".)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;mso-layout-grid-align:none; text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;When a woman says the "L" word first, the following can be a part of our thought process – (I only say “can be a part” as none of these entered my consciousness when my partner initially said it)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:18.0pt;text-align:justify;mso-layout-grid-align: none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:54.0pt;text-align:justify;text-indent: -18.0pt;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo2;tab-stops:list 54.0pt;mso-layout-grid-align: none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;·&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Impending marriage. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:54.0pt;text-align:justify;text-indent: -18.0pt;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo2;tab-stops:list 54.0pt;mso-layout-grid-align: none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;·&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Children.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:54.0pt;text-align:justify;text-indent: -18.0pt;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo2;tab-stops:list 54.0pt;mso-layout-grid-align: none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;·&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Life sentence with no chance of even a parole hearing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:54.0pt;text-align:justify;text-indent: -18.0pt;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo2;tab-stops:list 54.0pt;mso-layout-grid-align: none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;·&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Money consistently flowing out the door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:54.0pt;text-align:justify;text-indent: -18.0pt;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo2;tab-stops:list 54.0pt;mso-layout-grid-align: none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;·&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Won't be able to chuck my job in and go sailing off around the world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:54.0pt;text-align:justify;text-indent: -18.0pt;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo2;tab-stops:list 54.0pt;mso-layout-grid-align: none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;·&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Any future decision will have to receive the approval of 'her'. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:54.0pt;text-align:justify;text-indent: -18.0pt;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo2;tab-stops:list 54.0pt;mso-layout-grid-align: none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;·&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I'll have to get rid of my porn collection. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:54.0pt;text-align:justify;text-indent: -18.0pt;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo2;tab-stops:list 54.0pt;mso-layout-grid-align: none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;·&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I probably need to stop dating other women. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left:54.0pt;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-18.0pt;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo2;tab-stops:list 54.0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;·&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;There will come a time in the near future when I wish I had kept my porn collection cause it’s the closest thing to sex I'm getting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-1467435383252361564?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4U7-WjNNUf_QAXzsuU6DZ6z4RIg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4U7-WjNNUf_QAXzsuU6DZ6z4RIg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4U7-WjNNUf_QAXzsuU6DZ6z4RIg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4U7-WjNNUf_QAXzsuU6DZ6z4RIg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/UW5YIzAPwrQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/1467435383252361564/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/07/why-cant-woman-say-l-word-first.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/1467435383252361564?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/1467435383252361564?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/UW5YIzAPwrQ/why-cant-woman-say-l-word-first.html" title="Why can’t a woman say the “L” word first?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/07/why-cant-woman-say-l-word-first.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcCRns-eCp7ImA9WxJUEEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-2557904440016870913</id><published>2009-07-08T14:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T14:04:27.550-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-07-08T14:04:27.550-07:00</app:edited><title>Why don’t men complain when banished to the couch for the night?</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:18.0pt"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;There are several reasons why we don’t complain too loudly when this occurs.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;It’s a general indication that whatever argument was occurring has now finished, or, is in intermission while the female thinks of more points to raise.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;We are currently not required to continue listening, or expressing feelings and emotions.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;It is close to the fridge&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;It is in front of the TV.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;We can treat it as camping&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-2557904440016870913?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hCnC7Tqy9YOYrI8alvCNlsXqWq0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hCnC7Tqy9YOYrI8alvCNlsXqWq0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hCnC7Tqy9YOYrI8alvCNlsXqWq0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hCnC7Tqy9YOYrI8alvCNlsXqWq0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/ctwEfnAr4KQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/2557904440016870913/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/07/why-dont-men-complain-when-banished-to.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/2557904440016870913?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/2557904440016870913?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/ctwEfnAr4KQ/why-dont-men-complain-when-banished-to.html" title="Why don’t men complain when banished to the couch for the night?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/07/why-dont-men-complain-when-banished-to.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8EQ3k4eSp7ImA9WxJVGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-1562651057900684911</id><published>2009-07-06T14:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T14:13:22.731-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-07-06T14:13:22.731-07:00</app:edited><title>Getting ready to go out</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;There is a basic difference between the sexes when it comes to preparing to go out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; "&gt;Whereas your preparation appears to be constantly fraught with decisions over one outfit versus another. Then compounded by which accessories would compliment your outfit to its best potential, we males find the process much simpler.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; "&gt;Generally, you have already selected our apparel for the event and all we are required to do is put it on. Your selecting our clothing is better than the alternative of us hearing “you’re not wearing that are you?” which apparently is not a question! Having you pick out our ensemble does not worry us in the slightest, and even if we are given the burden of selecting our own clothing, the fact we have no problem with looking exactly like every other male that will be in attendance at the event causes us no pause for thought at all. Have you ever heard your male companion, upon entering any function exclaim “oh my god. We have to leave. That guy by the bar is wearing the exact same black suit as me”. After all, we are getting dressed, not getting ready.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; "&gt;When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine, really.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-1562651057900684911?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/sTI_oMyC-3MtzfGAEz7Qky0YPzc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/sTI_oMyC-3MtzfGAEz7Qky0YPzc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/sTI_oMyC-3MtzfGAEz7Qky0YPzc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/sTI_oMyC-3MtzfGAEz7Qky0YPzc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/AoXGyoxa2OI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/1562651057900684911/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/07/getting-ready-to-go-out.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/1562651057900684911?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/1562651057900684911?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/AoXGyoxa2OI/getting-ready-to-go-out.html" title="Getting ready to go out" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/07/getting-ready-to-go-out.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUQMRn8ycSp7ImA9WxJVF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-4642860543136261091</id><published>2009-07-04T11:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-04T11:49:47.199-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-07-04T11:49:47.199-07:00</app:edited><title>Why don’t you ever tell us we’re putting on weight?</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;You are joking, right? Let me put it this way, telling you that you’ve added a few extra pounds would be akin to standing in front of Osama Bin Laden, telling him you’re American and voted for George Bush. Twice! Then asking him how his mother is as she never called you back after the other night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; "&gt;Basically, it’s a no win situation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; "&gt;Unless you’ve withheld sex from us for a lengthy period of time we will never, ever tell you that you’re putting on weight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; "&gt;If you think you’re fat, you probably are. Just don’t ask us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-4642860543136261091?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iQ-9QIQTg86lovoDoKq7HQfrw5w/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iQ-9QIQTg86lovoDoKq7HQfrw5w/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iQ-9QIQTg86lovoDoKq7HQfrw5w/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iQ-9QIQTg86lovoDoKq7HQfrw5w/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/esprqMxTMeY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/4642860543136261091/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/07/why-dont-you-ever-tell-us-were-putting.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/4642860543136261091?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/4642860543136261091?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/esprqMxTMeY/why-dont-you-ever-tell-us-were-putting.html" title="Why don’t you ever tell us we’re putting on weight?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/07/why-dont-you-ever-tell-us-were-putting.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0EDQHs9fSp7ImA9WxJVFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-7739314729109266613</id><published>2009-07-02T11:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T17:07:51.565-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-07-02T17:07:51.565-07:00</app:edited><title>Why don’t men ever just listen to our problems?</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The simple truth is that it’s not in our nature to just quietly listen. Since the beginning of time the male species has acted, admittedly quite often with little or no thought process behind our actions, but act we do. To simply sit and not say or do something is not a thing we are comfortable with, or have had any training for. To be honest, when was the last time any male sat while you regaled a problem and never said anything? If you can remember such a time let me ask you this; did the event occur in the lounge? Was there a football match or movie on the television while you were outpouring your emotions? Or, was it in bed? If it was the first, I think you have the answer as to why the male in question was quiet and if it was the latter question, he only probably only remained quiet because he thought there was a possibility of sex (as a comfort to you in your trying times of course) after you had finished. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;My best advice is only come to us if you want help solving a problem. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; white-space: pre; "&gt;ynfbie5438&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-7739314729109266613?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vFBRKNpm4YHgT8BkbeXDYw23R48/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vFBRKNpm4YHgT8BkbeXDYw23R48/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vFBRKNpm4YHgT8BkbeXDYw23R48/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vFBRKNpm4YHgT8BkbeXDYw23R48/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/66Y7nKesBVU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/7739314729109266613/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/07/why-dont-men-ever-just-listen-to-our.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/7739314729109266613?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/7739314729109266613?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/66Y7nKesBVU/why-dont-men-ever-just-listen-to-our.html" title="Why don’t men ever just listen to our problems?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/07/why-dont-men-ever-just-listen-to-our.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0IFR3g7cCp7ImA9WxJVFEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-7888825207114727325</id><published>2009-06-30T18:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T18:25:16.608-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-30T18:25:16.608-07:00</app:edited><title>Argument rules</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Although you may think there are no rules to any argument you may have with the male in your life, there are a few things that we males consider to be part of “The Rules of Engagement”. These should be kept in mind whenever you, the female of the species embark on any ‘heated discussion’ (as my partner would refer to our arguments as).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;ul style="margin-top:0cm" type="disc"&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Anything, we the male, said      longer than six months ago is inadmissible in any current argument.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;In fact, any and all comments      we made more than seven days ago automatically become null and void.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We acknowledge that you feel it      is your right to have the last word in any argument.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Anything we say after this is deemed to be the commencement of another argument.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-bidi-font-family:Tahoma;color:red"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-7888825207114727325?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pzF5MGb8KSPpx-djICg4beIVmYU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pzF5MGb8KSPpx-djICg4beIVmYU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pzF5MGb8KSPpx-djICg4beIVmYU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pzF5MGb8KSPpx-djICg4beIVmYU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/pzxme6Hr_T8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/7888825207114727325/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/argument-rules.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/7888825207114727325?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/7888825207114727325?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/pzxme6Hr_T8/argument-rules.html" title="Argument rules" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/argument-rules.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEAAQn8zcSp7ImA9WxJVEk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-9047421227799458310</id><published>2009-06-28T15:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T15:05:43.189-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-28T15:05:43.189-07:00</app:edited><title>Why don’t men read instructions?</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;If the male in your life has ever attempted to put together kit furniture of any kind, and you found yourself standing over him after 6 hours of waiting for the two shelf bookcase to be completed, then this is would seem a reasonable question to ask. You would be wrong. Men feel we should have the inherent ability to construct anything from a simple shelf to a fully functional log cabin in the woods using nothing more than a pen knife and some string. The television programme MacGyver is used as proof and reference for this statement. Having to admit that we might need assistance with any form of construction/ task is felt to be disrespectful to what we consider to be genetically implanted man knowledge handed down over the ages. Besides, it was usually, a man wrote the instructions, and therefore, there is an unspoken bond that should negate the need to ask.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-9047421227799458310?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fUOSnnB1j4dBlUAn3gbiwPTgH1M/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fUOSnnB1j4dBlUAn3gbiwPTgH1M/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fUOSnnB1j4dBlUAn3gbiwPTgH1M/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fUOSnnB1j4dBlUAn3gbiwPTgH1M/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/fbBx1dxmrkQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/9047421227799458310/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-dont-men-read-instructions.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/9047421227799458310?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/9047421227799458310?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/fbBx1dxmrkQ/why-dont-men-read-instructions.html" title="Why don’t men read instructions?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-dont-men-read-instructions.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0EERns8eyp7ImA9WxJVEEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-8190627109697687805</id><published>2009-06-26T14:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T14:26:47.573-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-26T14:26:47.573-07:00</app:edited><title>How often do men think about sex?</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I could write quite a few paragraphs explaining the male psyche, quantified research made by experts in the field of sexual activity, the results of numerous test conducted by people far more learned than I, but, in all honesty it can be summed up quite briefly;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 32px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Males tend to think of sex constantly. Apart from when sport is on TV.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 32px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Mind you, I think that’s why there is a half time break with cheerleaders&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-8190627109697687805?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H76IBaq6v6VDgC89e81btLuiPIA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H76IBaq6v6VDgC89e81btLuiPIA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H76IBaq6v6VDgC89e81btLuiPIA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H76IBaq6v6VDgC89e81btLuiPIA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/aiz-kM1eWmw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/8190627109697687805/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/how-often-do-men-think-about-sex.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/8190627109697687805?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/8190627109697687805?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/aiz-kM1eWmw/how-often-do-men-think-about-sex.html" title="How often do men think about sex?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/how-often-do-men-think-about-sex.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUQBQXc6eCp7ImA9WxJWGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-8660512330441825051</id><published>2009-06-24T21:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T21:15:50.910-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-24T21:15:50.910-07:00</app:edited><title>Why do men leave the top off the toothpaste?</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Most women appear to have an ongoing problem with the men in their lives continually leaving the top off the toothpaste tube. I only say this because my partner often complains about it to me and as I like to think of myself as a typical male, presume that every other male does the same.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;While you (the female) may think it is sheer laziness on our part, once again you have failed to understand the male mind. Toothpaste is actually considered a food group. By leaving the lid off, the paste solidifies and we can have breakfast while we’re cleaning our teeth. And you thought we couldn’t multitask!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; "&gt;One of the other great toothpaste ‘mysteries’ appears to be why men feel the need to squeeze the tube from the middle; By doing so, we know we have at least half the tube in reserve. We are in fact sealing the tube half way down to ensure freshness of the contents and ensuring that only the top portion begins to solidify as per the above comment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: red; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-8660512330441825051?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1z3eWNk42NwFakdmBR9vrKH2abQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1z3eWNk42NwFakdmBR9vrKH2abQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1z3eWNk42NwFakdmBR9vrKH2abQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1z3eWNk42NwFakdmBR9vrKH2abQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/APTsJWhmYlA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/8660512330441825051/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-do-men-leave-top-off-toothpaste.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/8660512330441825051?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/8660512330441825051?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/APTsJWhmYlA/why-do-men-leave-top-off-toothpaste.html" title="Why do men leave the top off the toothpaste?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-do-men-leave-top-off-toothpaste.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUMSH4-eSp7ImA9WxJWF00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-4411416728996977042</id><published>2009-06-22T14:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T14:31:29.051-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-22T14:31:29.051-07:00</app:edited><title>What do men really think about cellulite?</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Women appear to consistently have the issue of cellulite on their minds. Correct me if I’m mistaken but it appears that nearly every women’s periodical I’ve seen (not that I buy them, as they are in fact my partners), always seem to have at least one article on battling this, or at the very least have a half dozen advertorials for companies that have a cream, balm, tablet or ointment in their pages that will get rid of the problem permanently.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;While this condition seems to be of great concern to women wishing to attract, or keep, the men in their lives; from a male perspective there is generally only one question we ask regarding the cellulite content of a female – will she have sex with me? If the answer is “yes”, then cellulite is unimportant to us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Do we notice cellulite on a woman? Only if denied sex.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Does it bother us that a woman may have cellulite? Once again, the reply is a simple, only if she won’t have sex with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It may seem a simplistic answer for something that is of great concern, and expenditure to women, but believe me when I tell you that once you accept that the above comments are true, your lives should be much easier. Plus, think of the money you’ll save and the space you’ll free up in the bathroom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-4411416728996977042?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4hYxr6eKjI71jlm3C1Yef5gTH-g/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4hYxr6eKjI71jlm3C1Yef5gTH-g/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4hYxr6eKjI71jlm3C1Yef5gTH-g/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4hYxr6eKjI71jlm3C1Yef5gTH-g/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/aYjJDQcRVSM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/4411416728996977042/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/what-do-men-really-think-about.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/4411416728996977042?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/4411416728996977042?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/aYjJDQcRVSM/what-do-men-really-think-about.html" title="What do men really think about cellulite?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/what-do-men-really-think-about.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkANQX0yeyp7ImA9WxJWFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-5343187074093797103</id><published>2009-06-19T14:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T14:13:10.393-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-21T14:13:10.393-07:00</app:edited><title>Why don’t men ever stop and ask for directions?</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Once again, in the unspoken battle between the sexes, if we had to actually stop and read a map, or ask a total stranger for directions then we are admitting we are lost and/or wrong. An event that the female of the species will file away in her memory to raise in the future when losing an argument, or worse still, to blackmail us into an event such as a shopping expedition.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:verdana;"&gt;One reason we feel no compunction to ask directions can be related back to our male ancestors. For centuries men have set off into parts unknown and uncharted. Great explorers like Christopher Columbus, James Cook and Vasco de Gama had no need for maps or directions, (OK. There weren’t any available, but that is beside the point) and we males feel there is a genetic bond between the male of today and adventurers of times past.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-5343187074093797103?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BUINncbpmW4nQKZVmehlc43JJ1g/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BUINncbpmW4nQKZVmehlc43JJ1g/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BUINncbpmW4nQKZVmehlc43JJ1g/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BUINncbpmW4nQKZVmehlc43JJ1g/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/cI32YugFWIk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/5343187074093797103/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-dont-men-ever-stop-and-ask-for.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/5343187074093797103?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/5343187074093797103?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/cI32YugFWIk/why-dont-men-ever-stop-and-ask-for.html" title="Why don’t men ever stop and ask for directions?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-dont-men-ever-stop-and-ask-for.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak8DRnw7cCp7ImA9WxJWFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-4695503474690378731</id><published>2009-06-19T12:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T14:14:37.208-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-21T14:14:37.208-07:00</app:edited><title>Why don’t men pick up the phone?</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Telephoning women is fraught with danger in the male mind. The thought process goes something like this;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;·         “If I call her tomorrow, will I appear too needy and therefore blow any chance of another date?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;·         I know, I’ll leave it till the day after tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;·         “hang on, I’ve got footy practice that night and by the time I get home it will be too late to phone her – I don’t want to seem like a potential stalker by ringing her at 11pm, especially when I’ve been forced into a bonding session at the clubrooms after practice that included the statutory beer or three. This would only add ‘alcoholic’ to the ‘stalker’ tag she’s already given me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;·         So the third day rolls round. Now the poor bloke is in the unenviable position of not having called, and, if he did so now, would appear to have not been all that interested in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He’s now better off waiting for her to call and then telling her that:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;·         His mobile was stolen with all his contact numbers in it. He couldn’t remember the correct spelling of her surname so was unable to locate her in the phone book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;·         He’d been trying to phone for the past few days, but must have written her number down incorrectly and, as he had been abused by whoever it was at the home he was phoning, figured she’d given him the wrong number on purpose because she didn’t want to see him again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that’s when we actually want to see you again. If we didn’t phone it’s because (yes, you were right) we didn’t want to see you again – and have no desire to spend the next three hours listening to ask us what went wrong, and assure us that we could work it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be honest, men can be just as insecure as women when it comes to making the first move. Anyway, in this day and age of equality, what’s the problem with you picking up the phone and making that call? At least that way we know you probably quite like us after all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-4695503474690378731?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9ZfdK_PJsBMdovSpCsGNNYObBcM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9ZfdK_PJsBMdovSpCsGNNYObBcM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9ZfdK_PJsBMdovSpCsGNNYObBcM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9ZfdK_PJsBMdovSpCsGNNYObBcM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/mJi75TpuoBI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/4695503474690378731/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-dont-men-pick-up-phone.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/4695503474690378731?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/4695503474690378731?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/mJi75TpuoBI/why-dont-men-pick-up-phone.html" title="Why don’t men pick up the phone?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-dont-men-pick-up-phone.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C04MSX4_eSp7ImA9WxJXF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-5497223675506199062</id><published>2009-06-11T16:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T16:13:08.041-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-11T16:13:08.041-07:00</app:edited><title>Why can men never find anything?</title><content type="html">There is a historic, archeological explanation for why men can’t find things in cupboards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in our hunter-gather days, men were responsible for venturing out into the wild and locating a food source. To accomplish this task, we needed to be able to focus not on things directly in front of us, but rather on the horizon, on order to spot our prey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the other reasons we have trouble locating things is more sinister. Men can be quite methodical creatures. When I’m searching the pantry for an elusive jar of Marmite, I’ll start at the top shelf and, scanning, work my way down the remaining shelves. Then, unable to locate the offending item, I’ll call my partner, who will walk straight to the cupboard and, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on me, reach out and wave the marmite in front of my face (usually accompanying the gesture with, “you didn’t look very hard, did you?”)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s my belief that it’s not because said item was right there all along, but because all women are sent to secret training camps during their youth. Here they are taught sleight of hand, mind reading, how to give ‘the look’ (I won’t go into this one, it requires a separate chapter all its own), and other methods Al-Qaeda would be proud t o own the rights to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another reason for our inability to find things is that if we knew where everything was kept, we’d be expected to put things away, like dishes and groceries. Or, even make meals…..So, sometimes, being incapable of seeing what’s right in front of us can work out pretty well from our point of view.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-5497223675506199062?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3fQ94fFv0C_UU3XGxoFLh8a_9_4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3fQ94fFv0C_UU3XGxoFLh8a_9_4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3fQ94fFv0C_UU3XGxoFLh8a_9_4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3fQ94fFv0C_UU3XGxoFLh8a_9_4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/ahHsbq7BRw0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/5497223675506199062/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-can-men-never-find-anything.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/5497223675506199062?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/5497223675506199062?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/ahHsbq7BRw0/why-can-men-never-find-anything.html" title="Why can men never find anything?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-can-men-never-find-anything.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkACR3g6cSp7ImA9WxJXFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-939411994685299646</id><published>2009-06-09T13:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T13:19:26.619-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-09T13:19:26.619-07:00</app:edited><title>Why don’t men cry more?</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;Men tend to think that crying can be interpreted as a sign of weakness, and in the battle between the sexes, we don’t want to give any advantage to the ‘opposition’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are certainly occasions where it is considered appropriate to allow an emotional tear:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time a man holds his newborn baby&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When his children enter their teenage years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arriving back home from overseas, knowing this is the best country in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When his mother-in-law announces she’s moving in with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, in truth, there are only a few circumstances where a man will deem it acceptable to openly blub:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When a heroic dog dies saving its master&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Angeline Jolie starts unbuttoning her blouse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After wrecking his boss’s brand new car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he catches himself in the zipper.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-939411994685299646?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NVR5iUH9eMiz8X6hteX17XRggNg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NVR5iUH9eMiz8X6hteX17XRggNg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NVR5iUH9eMiz8X6hteX17XRggNg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NVR5iUH9eMiz8X6hteX17XRggNg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/fOP45wmKtvU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/939411994685299646/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-dont-men-cry-more.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/939411994685299646?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/939411994685299646?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/fOP45wmKtvU/why-dont-men-cry-more.html" title="Why don’t men cry more?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-dont-men-cry-more.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkIERXw5cCp7ImA9WxJXFEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-4061828473311433328</id><published>2009-06-07T14:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T14:35:04.228-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-07T14:35:04.228-07:00</app:edited><title>Why is leaving a toothbrush at a guys place such a big deal?</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;To the female eye, a toothbrush may appear simply to be a tool for the cleaning of teeth – but don’t be fooled. Any item of a personal nature that takes up residence can only lead a male to think:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A full commitment is not too far away.&lt;br /&gt;He’ll come home one day and discover all the furniture has been moved to enhance the feng shui of the room.&lt;br /&gt;Total coordination of all soft furnishings is only a heartbeat away.&lt;br /&gt;Invitations to a party at your place to be hosted by the both of you are already in the mail.&lt;br /&gt;A dinner party for your families is being announced in the very near future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warning: the female habit of ‘nesting’ by depositing personal items around a man’s abode may lead men to revert to a primitive state, marking their territory in a similar nature to that of a cat or a dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-4061828473311433328?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9lm0VwSzjRV-VLRFSoejVBsNqWA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9lm0VwSzjRV-VLRFSoejVBsNqWA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9lm0VwSzjRV-VLRFSoejVBsNqWA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9lm0VwSzjRV-VLRFSoejVBsNqWA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/tYxpRMwL5V4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/4061828473311433328/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-is-leaving-toothbrush-at-guys-place.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/4061828473311433328?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/4061828473311433328?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/tYxpRMwL5V4/why-is-leaving-toothbrush-at-guys-place.html" title="Why is leaving a toothbrush at a guys place such a big deal?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-is-leaving-toothbrush-at-guys-place.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0EGRXYyfSp7ImA9WxJXEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-2531598427039229979</id><published>2009-06-05T15:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T15:40:24.895-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-05T15:40:24.895-07:00</app:edited><title>Why are men one-gift wonders?</title><content type="html">Why is it that women tend to buy a collection of gifts where men generally buy just one? The answer is really quite simple; in purchasing a solitary gift, the male has the following in mind:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He only has to visit one store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more expensive the gift, the more likely it is that the store will wrap it for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The depth of love being conveyed should be reflected in the price tag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men should always “win” the gift-buying competition in order to obtain brownie points to be redeemed in the near future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-2531598427039229979?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dDw0v31RBNbGMRrxWdWN1gpyvuQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dDw0v31RBNbGMRrxWdWN1gpyvuQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dDw0v31RBNbGMRrxWdWN1gpyvuQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dDw0v31RBNbGMRrxWdWN1gpyvuQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/vxnRHRAQLes" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/2531598427039229979/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-are-men-one-gift-wonders.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/2531598427039229979?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/2531598427039229979?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/vxnRHRAQLes/why-are-men-one-gift-wonders.html" title="Why are men one-gift wonders?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-are-men-one-gift-wonders.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkIAQX88fyp7ImA9WxJXEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-976387212981079004</id><published>2009-06-03T13:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T13:22:20.177-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-03T13:22:20.177-07:00</app:edited><title>Why don’t men love spending all day shopping?</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;If a man goes shopping, he knows before he leaves the house which store to go to and exactly what needs to be bought, including the make, style and size. Plus, he’ll have calculated how long it’ll take to get there and back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most men will shop for necessary items only. For example, any DIY item spells necessity. Furniture (such as a 52 inch plasma TV) spells necessity. Items such as food and drink, although somewhat essential, will be covered off by the female of the house, along with items relating to body care, such as deodorant and shaving creams. This is mainly due to the fact that we, apparently, can’t be trusted to purchase such things on our own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where men generally prefer to conduct their hunter-gathering in a solitary manner, women seem to require an assault team, shopping in packs. They phone girlfriends and family members, plan and make numerous lists covering everything from where they’re going to which restaurants/ cafes are must-visits in-between purchases. I’m sure there is not much difference between the approach of a woman to a shopping expedition and that of a mountaineer tackling Everest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my experience, women know roughly where they want to shop and approximately the type of item they wish to purchase. This is until they get there, when all that changes from, say, a dress, to a skirt and top and a pair of trousers that go really nicely with the top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But do you snap these items up straight away? No. you drag us from a store that could easily satisfy the requirements for at least two outfits to walk the length of the mall. In between, you have a coffee break (suits us, as it reassures us that the headache we’ve developed is not caused by dehydration). Finally, after lunch you say, “I think I’ll get the skirt, top and trousers I saw in the first shop. Do you remember them?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I remember them? Believe it or not, I do, even though it was five hours ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter what we tell you, men do not like browsing through malls looking for that something special that will go perfectly with that other something special you were thinking of buying. Pick a shop. Walk in. Buy what you need and leave. Shopping is not a sport. And, no, we’re never going to think of it that way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-976387212981079004?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hlYX-v7zxo1RvktXh81_Mvz6b2k/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hlYX-v7zxo1RvktXh81_Mvz6b2k/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hlYX-v7zxo1RvktXh81_Mvz6b2k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hlYX-v7zxo1RvktXh81_Mvz6b2k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/g_gkSvd0-94" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/976387212981079004/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-dont-men-love-spending-all-day.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/976387212981079004?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/976387212981079004?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/g_gkSvd0-94/why-dont-men-love-spending-all-day.html" title="Why don’t men love spending all day shopping?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-dont-men-love-spending-all-day.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUQCQHg6fip7ImA9WxJQGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-6860241183516087806</id><published>2009-06-01T13:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T13:16:01.616-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-01T13:16:01.616-07:00</app:edited><title>Why do women always want to know what we’re thinking?</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We are constantly told that women can multi task and therefore it is a natural assumption that you have a dozen things going on in your head at one time; the male perception is that you just can’t focus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We (the male) would like to believe that we have evolved into an almost Zen like being where we can focus so deeply that we enter a transcendental state, clear of mindless thoughts, cluttering our minds, and, revel in the sheer happiness of ‘the moment’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides, it gives us time to step out of the role of problem solver to the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you ask what we are thinking, and the reply is nothing, believe us, it’s true.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-6860241183516087806?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FyC6Mj4BR3jMNWdKkXKyOC_tkqU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FyC6Mj4BR3jMNWdKkXKyOC_tkqU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FyC6Mj4BR3jMNWdKkXKyOC_tkqU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FyC6Mj4BR3jMNWdKkXKyOC_tkqU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/teSOoqr6XUg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/6860241183516087806/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-do-women-always-want-to-know-what.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/6860241183516087806?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/6860241183516087806?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/teSOoqr6XUg/why-do-women-always-want-to-know-what.html" title="Why do women always want to know what we’re thinking?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-do-women-always-want-to-know-what.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUUDQH0-fyp7ImA9WxJQF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-1419832563293222515</id><published>2009-05-30T13:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T14:01:11.357-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-30T14:01:11.357-07:00</app:edited><title>The Brownie Point System</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It’s a common phrase heard in most relationships; you do something nice, or thoughtful and you’re told “that’ll be worth a few brownie points”. Why is it the ‘points’ system is never explained, or at least put into an easily understood template? Credit Card and airline companies manage to convey the workings of their points reward systems easily enough; do this, get x number of points. With y number of points you are entitled to a free set of steak knives etc. Why is it that women, who are on most occasions quite happy to tell us males exactly what the outcome of any given event or action will be, can’t let us know how the brownie point system works?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine it from our point of view. We work really hard trying to listen to you, doing chores around the house without being asked, pretending to like your friends, even visiting the mall with you to engage in your sport of ‘browsing’. All the time we are calculating how many points we are accumulating; shopping is worth 100 points, listening to you while feigning interest in the latest fashion colours is worth 75 points etc.&lt;br /&gt;To use the airline analogy of redeeming ‘points’; once we think we’ve earned enough Brownie Points for a return trip, flying business class to Europe, when we actually go to redeem them we find we have only enough for a trip to the local dairy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let’s face it, we really only count the points in order to exchange them for either sex, or a trip with the boys and that the brownie points will negate the ensuing grief we’d experience if we hadn’t accumulated enough. Remember, we need definitive guidelines to understand anything.  Hell, I’m sure there are plenty of males that would donate enough money for you to advertise the points system in the newspaper just so it was clear to everyone, and not as it presently is, on a sliding scale that can be altered without reason or justification at any time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-1419832563293222515?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Ke3aiOMGVU-9VyCTuVyyCFkxd_E/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Ke3aiOMGVU-9VyCTuVyyCFkxd_E/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Ke3aiOMGVU-9VyCTuVyyCFkxd_E/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Ke3aiOMGVU-9VyCTuVyyCFkxd_E/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/xaTJtD8gOIE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/1419832563293222515/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/05/brownie-point-system.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/1419832563293222515?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/1419832563293222515?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/xaTJtD8gOIE/brownie-point-system.html" title="The Brownie Point System" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/05/brownie-point-system.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0cCQnw4fyp7ImA9WxJQFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-1288987406128648643</id><published>2009-05-29T14:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-29T14:04:23.237-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-29T14:04:23.237-07:00</app:edited><title>Why do you say we never understand what you want?</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Let’s be perfectly clear about this one –&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Subtle hints do not work.&lt;br /&gt;Strong hints do not work.&lt;br /&gt;Obvious hints don’t work.&lt;br /&gt;JUST SAY IT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-1288987406128648643?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/johz0loHhIEglqAO4f7kOLuwiVk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/johz0loHhIEglqAO4f7kOLuwiVk/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/johz0loHhIEglqAO4f7kOLuwiVk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/johz0loHhIEglqAO4f7kOLuwiVk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/jinzN0iWaIQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/1288987406128648643/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/05/why-do-you-say-we-never-understand-what.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/1288987406128648643?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/1288987406128648643?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/jinzN0iWaIQ/why-do-you-say-we-never-understand-what.html" title="Why do you say we never understand what you want?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/05/why-do-you-say-we-never-understand-what.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkEARHg6cCp7ImA9WxJQFUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8120546595694352186.post-5672383537451965482</id><published>2009-05-28T12:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T12:57:25.618-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-28T12:57:25.618-07:00</app:edited><title>Why do women need to know where a relationship is going?</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;In the early stages, women always seem to have the need to know where “we” are, and where it’s heading. I’m quite sure women have a timeline of events, or milestones marking the different stages of a relationship (which will be talked about at length when they occur in the female calendar) but most guys have no idea what the hell they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From a males point of view, I have worked out there are approximately four stages in a relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stage One - Casual.&lt;br /&gt;This feels good. I wonder when I’m going to do something to really annoy her. Might keep my options open of a potential back up girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stage Two – Admitting you’re seeing someone.&lt;br /&gt;Haven’t really annoyed her yet. I’ll risk telling someone and see if that jinxes it or not. Not too bothered about the backup girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stage Three – Calling them a girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;Didn’t jinx it! Haven’t annoyed her too much or too often and she’s still returning my calls. Will stop keeping my back up options open and I’ll risk referring to her as my girlfriend in public.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stage Four - Referring to them as your “partner”&lt;br /&gt;It’s been 6 months now and I’m not interested in looking for anyone else. I spend more time with her / at her place/ she’s at my place more/ we’ve basically moved in together/ she’s still not pissed of (too much) at me/ we’re starting to purchase things “together”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;amp;add=http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8120546595694352186-5672383537451965482?l=marsmyarse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oXchgJXODSY1frE635Jn_hM5hcE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oXchgJXODSY1frE635Jn_hM5hcE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oXchgJXODSY1frE635Jn_hM5hcE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oXchgJXODSY1frE635Jn_hM5hcE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~4/VIA5mDlY9lQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/feeds/5672383537451965482/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/05/why-do-women-need-to-know-where.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/5672383537451965482?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8120546595694352186/posts/default/5672383537451965482?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MarsMyArse/~3/VIA5mDlY9lQ/why-do-women-need-to-know-where.html" title="Why do women need to know where a relationship is going?" /><author><name>name withheld for fear of recriminations</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09608546776965062541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://marsmyarse.blogspot.com/2009/05/why-do-women-need-to-know-where.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

