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Women's Guide To Driving Men Crazy
When God Created Mothers

WOMENS'S GUIDE TO DRIVING MEN CRAZY

Do not say what you mean. Ever.

Be ambiguous. Always.

Cry. Cry often. Tell them it's their fault.

Bring things up that were said, done, or thought years, months, or decades ago...or with other boyfriends.

Make them apologize for everything.

Stash feminine products in their cars, backpacks and in their books as cute reminders that you were thinking of them. Gossip. Gossip about everything that walks.

Look them in the eye and start laughing.

Get mad at them for everything.

Discuss your period in front of them. Watch them squirm.

Hold grudges.

Demand to be called or e-mailed. Often. Whine when they don't comply.

When complimented, make sure to be paranoid. Take nothing at face value.

Use daddy as a weapon. Tell them about his gun collection, his quick trigger finger, and his affection for his Little Princess.

Be late for everything. Yell if they're late.

Talk about your ex-boyfriend, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Compare and contrast.

Go everywhere in groups, especially the bathroom. Do nothing alone. Independence is a sign of weakness.

Make them guess what you want and then get mad when they're wrong.

Plan little relationship anniversaries, i.e. the monthly anniversary of the time you saw each other in the library...for five minutes. Then get mad at them for forgetting. Then cry.

Gather many female friends and dance to "I Will Survive" while they are present. Sing all the words. Sing to them. Sing loud.

Correct their grammar.

Describe back-alley abortions. Then remind them of their mother or little sister.

Constantly claim you're fat. Ask them. Then cry, regardless of their answer.

Leave out the good parts in stories.

Make sure to only be interested in guys in the same friendship group. Make sure to cause trouble.

Make them wonder. Confusion is a good thing.

Declare that you are not wacko.

Criticize the way they dress.

Criticize the music they listen to.

Criticize their hair.

Ignore them. When asked, "What's wrong?" tell them that if they don't know, you're not going to tell them.

Try to change them.

Try to mold them.

Try to get them to dance.

Pretend you're interested, lead them on, then feign ignorance when confronted.

When they screw up, never let them forget it.

Make them stay at religious services until they are close to fainting...just because.

Blame everything on PMS.

Blame everything on PMS only after it has been blamed on them.

Whenever there is silence ask them, "What are you thinking?"

Get mad if they don't notice a haircut. Even if it's only a half inch.

Read into everything.

Over-analyze everything.

Make it your goal to make them cry

WHEN GOD CREATED MOTHERS

While the Good Lord was creating mothers, He was into His sixth day of "overtime" when an angle appeared and said, "You're doing a lot of fiddling around this one."

The Lord said, "Have you read the spec on this order?"

She has to be completely washable, but not plastic

Have 180 movable parts...all replacable

Run on black coffee and leftovers

Have lap that dissapears when she stands up

Have a kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a broken heart

And have six pairs of hands.

The angle shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands.. not possible."

"It's not the hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord. "It's the three pairs of eyes that mothers need to have."

"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.

The Lord nodded. "One pair that see through closed doors when she asks, "What are you kids doing in there ?" when she already knows. Another here in the back of her head that see what she shouldn't, but what she has to know, and of course the ones here in front that can look at a child when he goofs up and say, 'I understand and I love you' without so much as uttering a word.

"Lord," said the angel, touching His sleeve gently, "Get some rest. You can continue this tomorrow...."

"I can't," said the Lord, "I'm so close to creating something close to myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick...can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger...and can get a nine-year-old to stand under a shower."

The angel circled the model of The Mother very slowly. "It's too soft," she sighed.

"But incredibly tough," said the Lord. "You cannot imagine what a mother can do or what it must endure."

"Can it think?"

"Not only think, but it can reason and compromise," said the Creator.

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her fingers across the mother's cheek. "I'm afraid there's a leak," she pronounced. "You're trying to put too much into this model. You can't ignore the stress factor."

The Lord moved in for a closer look and gently lifted the drop of moisture to his finger where it glistened and sparkled in the light. "It's not a leak," He said. "It's a tear."

"A tear?" asked the angel. "What's it for?"

"The tear is for joy, sadness, dissappointment, compassion, pain, loneliness, and pride."

"Beautiful," the angel said. "You are a genius."

The Lord looked somber. "I didn't put it there."