Put a Ring on it, My Ass

Dude. You're about to marry a woman who has truly ugly fingers. Those things are like fat daggers. Are you SURE you want to put a ring on that? P.S.- Where's the engagement ring, you cheap shit?

You know what pisses me off besides just about everything? Men and women are so not equal, no matter what anyone tries. A man still makes more money than a woman for doing the same damned job. Men don’t get called bitches when they’re aggressive, and they are considered human and real instead of weak and on the rag when they cry, unless they are Republican representatives from Ohio who become Speaker of the House. And the fuckers can even be in beauty pageants and frequently look hotter than women contestants. How in the hell is that fair? Just throw in a couple of fake boobs, Nair ® off the leg and chest hairs, and suddenly some guys are all Angelina Jolie. Bastards.

And get this. In still another worthless effort to encourage equality while lining some pockets, British idiots have created the “mangagement” ring. Now, at first, I was reading too fast, and I thought that said management ring, as in “put this ring on the finger of a guy to whom you are engaged so that he can’t fuck around during the wedding planning.” (As if that’s stopping any man whores.)

But no. It is a nauseating play on engagement ring. But for men! Holy shit balls. What a concept! Now men can feel all special once they’re betrothed too. Yay. And what man wouldn’t want a diamondy band on the marriage finger?? (Hint: If gay men are excluded…none.) I’m kind of concerned about mangagement rings, though, because I don’t think I want to see men with more than one ring stacked up per finger all Liberace-like. Plus, it’s just one more piece of jewelry to have to pocket when they're out at titty bars or when  hunting and gathering or when shooting suicide-bomb-strapped children in the Middle East.

Here’s another entry in the don’t-read-this-while-you-are-ingesting-animal-flesh-because-it’s-so-gag-worthy-that-you-will-puke-meaty-cubes-out-of-your-nose category: “manty hose.” I am totally not shitting you. (Really. That would hurt because you would absolutely not be still, and your flailing limbs would tear my delicate areas.) European men and metrosexuals have been sporting men’s full-length hosiery for years. American men are always the last to know. Plus they are a lot of the time beefy and homophobic to make up for Tic-tac penises, and would not be caught dead climbing down from the cab of the half-ton pick-up while wearing panty hose. Fancy leg wear so clashes with a mouthful of chaw and a shotgun.

Anyway. The brethren across the pond bitched about having only women’s options when choosing hose for warmth under clothing or when compression garments were prescribed by a doctor for improved vascular health for so long that companies developed cotton and spandex man tights. Well. If the struggle involved in properly applying a rubber is any indication, manty hose will be très short-lived.

There is also this stupid trend: the man taking the woman’s last name in marriage. Stedman Winfrey is the only sumbitch who should get away with that. After actor Jay Mohr married model and extra-large-surgically-enhanced-lips-and-boobs-recipient, Nikki Cox, and became Jay Mohr-Cox, I’d say this idea has run its course. And someone needs to slap him until he dies.

That whole idea of the last-name-taking galls me anyway. Here’s why: Everything, absolutely everything we do depends upon our credit scores, that mysterious system of numbers no one can honestly explain, but which determines whether we can get a loan or rent an apartment or even get a job. And even though the three credit scoring agencies are supposed to assign values fairly, ha fucking ha. If a woman has been married multiple times, alllllllll of her “aliases” or “also known as-es” show up on the credit report. She is immediately downgraded in the opinion of anyone assessing her. But a man’s serial monogamy never appears, once again tipping the balance of things in favor of males. I am sick of it and think something should be done—that something involving snipping—until the men of the world change the fucking system. Who’s with meeeeee?