Improvise... Adapt... Overcome
No matter the circumstances, you can always win


For those that didn't know, I work in a center for handicapped children. Everything from slight to severe/profound MR, to cerebral palsy. And being only one of two Phallo-Americans who work there (see, I can be PC when needed), sometimes I'm reminded that men and women don't always speak the same language.

Case in point; with today being a Teacher Work-Day, I can either stay indoors and participate in a "paint party" with a rather large gaggle of Gyno-Americans (of whom a large percentage are undoubtedly PMS'ing) replete with protestations of "my nails!", "there's paint in my hair!", and the ever popular "does anyone have an extra tampon?"

All week long, my self-lamentations have boiled down to "Friday's gonnna suck". I can literally hear my sperm count dropping.

Luckily, I was given a reprieve. I could opt to head outside and do some landscaping. After a quick package check to remind myself that I am, in fact, the male of the species, landscaping it is.

Unfortunately, I don't have a pick-axe. Shovel, saw, wheelbarrow... check, check, check. Still SOL on a pick-axe. So I start asking the gals at work if any of their husbands should happen to own one.

The conversation went something like this;

Kevin: "Hey, [Unnamed Anonymous Chick Who Shall Remain Unnamed], does your husband have a pick-axe?"

UACWSRU: "You mean an axe for cutting down trees?"

Kevin: "No, a pick-axe."

UACWSRU: "You mean one of those long nail-looking thingees?"

Kevin: "No... (starting to get exasperated) a pick-axe."

UACWSRU: "I give-up. What's a pick-axe?"

Kevin: (As I imitate swinging a pick-axe over my head and hitting the ground, I break into song): "IIIIIIIIIII've been workin' on the raiiiiiiiilroad. ALLLLLLLL the live-long DAYYYYYYYYYY!"

UACWSRN: (The lights come on) "Ohhhhh.... a PICK-AXE!!"I'm so glad the Marine Corps taught me to think on my feet.