04/01/2008 by DiBot
So you’re glad you’re a chick? Well, I’m glad I’m a guy.
So have a seat, missy, and I’ll tell ya why
I’m so glad I’m a man, I could stand and applaud
That I don’t have to live life as a broad.
We do the same work, but I’m better paid.
There’s honor and not shame for me when I get laid.
I can get head in a restaurant booth.
Mechanics will (usually) tell me the truth.
I can go sit at a bar all alone
Without twenty drunk losers inviting me home.
Workmen and service men never do hassle me.
Car CD players don’t simply baffle me.
I can reach stuff hidden on the top shelf.
I can change light bulbs all by myself.
No one expects anything when I just flirt.
I don’t have to wear dumb stuff like hose or a skirt.
My underwear’s cotton, and three for eight bucks.
Bras are expensive and WIRE – that sucks.
I get to buy cool stuff like hammers and drills.
You have to buy makeup and birth control pills.
Never will I suffer from PMS.
It takes me ten minutes to shower and dress.
Three pair of shoes are more than enough.
I don’t have a purse full of useless old stuff.
None of my co-workers can make me cry.
When someone fails to call, I don’t give a shit why.
I never will need an electrician or plumber.
I can date someone much younger and dumber.
I’m GLAD I’m a guy, with two balls and a dick,
So I don’t have to live life as a chick.
I revel in guy-hood with joy I can’t squelch,
And I’ll celebrate every scratch, every belch.
I’m glad I’m a man, of that I am proud.
I’m not at all bitchy, annoying and loud.
I won’t try to squeeze in jeans three sizes too small.
My credit card is still good when I leave from the mall.
I won’t drink Diet Coke, or eat a rice cake.
There’s no silicone here, my chest isn’t fake.
My face isn’t “lifted,” my bra isn’t stuffed,
I do what’s proper, I leave the toilet seat up.
It doesn’t take hours to fix up my hair,
I don’t see the need to use bathrooms in pairs.
I won’t throw a tirade and then blame PMS.
I’m a man and I’m glad I can deal with my stress.
I have intuition, I never get lost.
I share household duties, I won’t try to be the boss.
I’m a man and with that comes a high sense of class,
I won’t wear a swimsuit that rides up my ass.
I won’t cry like a baby when Bambi gets shot
I don’t make up false places, like the infamous “G-spot.”
I won’t go out at night in a black mini-skirt,
then slap anybody that just tries to flirt.
You crazy women scare me, you have lots of gall,
To make Lorena a hero for hacking off balls.
Yes, I’m pleased to be male and I don’t mean to gloat.
I’m sorry you don’t understand how to work the remote.
I’ll never tease you, or play hard to get.
If I don’t get my way, I won’t throw a fit.
I don’t worry much about breaking a nail,
My face without makeup isn’t distorted and pale.
I’ll never say one thing while meaning another.
When life gets real hard, I won’t run to my mother.
In order to understand just who I am;
You need a Y-chromosome; it’s what makes you a man.