Thursday, October 9, 2008
Designed to torment
Certain things have been designed by the wrong people. And given their unchallenged monopoly, the torture continues.
Take most toilet bowls for example. Definitely the brain wave of mean men. So while their kind can safely direct the flow anywhere for a smooth and silent spray, we women continue to shift our bottoms endlessly, and in vain, but can never get to the bottom of the matter - how to pee noiselessly. Highly embarrassing on a first date 'at the pad', especially if it is a bachelor zone designed for awesome acoustics. Or if you are unfortunate enough to answer a call you thought was from a harmless fellow sufferer, but ain't, smack dab in the middle of a can't-hold-it-any-longer loo break. Ouch!
Then there are sinks/washbasins which are definitely the creation of midgets, conducive to being placed only at certain heights. Tall people: use at the risk of your back giving out as you bend over, nearly double, trying to get that toothbrush under the tap, while nearly buckling at the knees to take a look at your mug, in all its morning glory, in the mirror- the top of which probably reaches shoulder level. I'm gonna get one that I can look at even in six-inch heels. Will definitely remember to keep a platform for all you li'l ones out there, and given the origins of my misfortune, don't any of you dare to throw that old "heightist!" at me.
Or take low to medium-budget cars. I mean if you have a lot of money and can afford the fancy life off the road, then why is it that you get to also afford the fancy, gadgeted-upto- its-eyeballs car as well, since chances are that you ain't gonna be driving any of them in the first place? So what makes your lazy driver - who snoozes the day away in the air conditioned parking lot - more deserving of crawling the traffic in luxury than a multiple degree holder stuck in the world's lowest paying profession, who is a hard-working, wide-awake, caffeine-supported self-driven car owner traversing the long distance between the office and home in a car with the shortest distance between the wheel and the clutch? Design for the deserving destitute, for they actually drive these things! Split the costs. Anterior luxury interiors for the poor; plush posteriors for the shamelessly undeserving backsides. At no extra cost. Socialism with a twist, much like a certain view of the American bailouts. Fair play, i say.
And finally, the female form. And i don't mean the un-average type. I am specifically referring to the average one that, if left unattended, begins to self-destruct in no time at all. Men at least need to down a requisite number of pints to even get close to losing the battle of the belly, or cross a numerical threshold for the hairline to cross the danger mark, but we get hit with it the minute we take our eyes off the mirror. Wham! To top it all, the guys got the thick skin too, AND the confidence to live in the blissful belief that saggy or shaggy are mere synonyms for sexy. But no, no such luck for the other half.
Come now, at the risk of sounding blasphemous, what were you really thinking dude?