11th March 2001

EMAIL MOMENT!

Subject: On distaff and my bony ass.

Me:

What is it with men and baked goods? A man may be
impressed by your brain, or your body, or whatever, but if you walk into
the room with an apple pie, his eyes roll up into his
head and his mouth starts frothing. It’s like,
“Well I knew you were hot, but I didn’t know you
baked..”

Him:

It speaks to our lizard brain. It is hard to starve with a woman who
bakes. A woman who bakes can compensate for myriad detrimental
evolutionary traits, such as narrow hips, an waistline that suggests
infertility, and a brain that is too smart or too dumb for her prospective
mate. Baking is tantamount to survival. Additionally, very few men have
the moxie, time, or inclination to bake. Baking is a place that is solidly
in the woman’s world. Women bake, lap dance, look pretty on game shows,
heal, and mediate. Men bust broncs, and philosophize. Just the way it is.

Me:

You have such an odd, offensive little take on things.
Remind me never to bring you cupcakes lest you request
a lap dance.

Him:

Your butt would poke holes in my jeans.

4:28 p.m.