Some things we should probably talk about over a glass of lemonade on the front porch with our feet swinging through the daylight.

The one issue that I have with the title is that it is too long. Titles should be short and to the point. Think Dickens. David Copperfield, excellent book and you already know what it's going to be about. It's going to be a wonderful story about a hot ass illusionist in Vegas. But oh wait, Dickens, in classic Dickens style, trumps the readers expectations by writing about some lowly kid who rises to greatness. And I think it's safe to say that 95 percent of people who have read David Copperfield are pretty pissed that they didn't pick up some neat biographical details about the illusionist, or at least a more effective way to pull off a card trick.

A really boring/illuminating conversation about how people go about filling their ice trays.

M: I like the ice trays to be filled halfway.

S: Stop! Can you at least do it in this tray? I find it impossible to (Wait. Are you quoting an extended passage about ice cube trays? You're damn right I am!) get them out and I end up having to wash it frequently.

M: To clean up all that dirty water, with, you know, water.

S: (Switches trays with me. Pours the water in and tips the tray)

M: What are you doing?

S: I'm making them even.

M: Who cares? Do all of our pieces of ice need to be symmetrical? (Incidentally, go ahead and read in a little. Ie me=artsy. Non-conformist etc/lazy.

S: I just hate these ice cube trays. I feel like they don't work.

M: I feel like they do work. We put water in the little spaces. Then we put it in the freezer and it turns into ice. I'm not looking for a lot more than that from my ice cube trays.

S: (Sighs).

Every day that I log in to my e-mail account I briefly encounter a barrage of stories. Little micro-stories presumably written by chimps after they've finished Shakespeare, which are generally about guys and gals. Not a term I'd ever use. You get to read secrets of what men and women really think about each other during sex, or relationships or whatever. I think I can speak for at least 3 percent of the population when I say, who the hell cares? What does this have to do with me? Nothing. So I'm going to lay it down for you straight. I think the kids might say dope at some point. I'm not sure. And, if my blog doesn't get as many hits as MSN I'll take to the streets and interview like five of my friends who can then say vacuous things about members of the opposite sex.

The straight dope. (I did it).

Here are things that men don't like.

1) When you're doing the laundry and you take every last thing downstairs in preparation to be washed without replacing the towel on our door. Why? Because if it's the dead of winter then it's freezing when the shower shuts off and you're standing there sans clothes shivering like a little puppy because you don't have your towel. Secondarily, we are now faced with the prospect of walking across the bathroom floor, perhaps even the hardwood floors to retrieve a towel. And the problem is that we know that you hate it when we get the floor wet. So we're faced with a conundrum, though it's more like a double bind. And so now we are in strict violation of your no wet floor policy all the while crossing the room sans clothes past the windows that you can sort of see into from the street. And now, I'm (yes I went ahead and made the switch) down on the floor mopping the dirty floor to get up all that perspiration, and I'm late for work and cold and irritated. I mean, just put the towel on the door.

2) Whenever I'm driving anything that I choose to do should be regarded as sacrosanct. I like to be regarded as a four year old regards her dad. Like a superhero. If I decide to blow through a red light nearly sideswiping a biker on my way, under not circumstances should you ever make a peep or a rush of breath, or say something like, "You almost hit that guy." Because you know what the answer is? "If I had wanted to hit that guy I would have. But oh look, he's doing just fine." The only way this rule can be violated is if I'm actually about to kill us in a head on collision with a train, and even then, it's probably best to just let it happen and sneak in a prayer for good measure.

Also, whatever I do on the road should be regarded as someone else's fault. If someone takes a right turn into their driveway, and I call them a beep for buying a house where I'm trying to drive, the right answer is to insist, in slightly more vulgar language that the candy ass bastard shouldn't have bought a big house on Nebraska when he damn well knew people would be driving on it. At this point it is proper for the sig. other riding shotgun to suggest coming by later to vandalize the person's house. Why? Because then I, as the driver can laugh it off and think to myself, "she crazy." This then allows my heart rate to drop down to a reasonable level, which is beneficial for you because I have a job and make some amount of money. It's a win, win, win.

Note: As I was getting a glass of water before the blue ice cube tray did prove to be a little problematic. Aka useless.

I'm certain that I have like ten other things.

I'll give you the Reader's Digest Version of MSN stories, so you don't have to slog through that drivel like I do.

Story: 11 foods that help you shed pounds.

1-11-Insert a fruit or vegetable here. Exercise while you're doing it.

Story: What guys wish you'd wear on a date.

A sun dress. Any other answer is both wrong and hurtful.

Story: Why you should get an internship.

Because after you leave it they'll offer you a job. Alternatively, don't because they don't pay you.

Story: Strategies to help you stop snoring.

Willpower. use it.

Story: Ten things you should have in your car.

That list is too long. blanket. Uh, phone. Back seat. Am I at ten yet. Glove compartment gun that shoots out one of those things that says pow for laughs on the road.

Story: 12 Things Guys wish you knew in bed

When it's hot stay away. The location of my book. The location of my book mark. Why do we have so many non-utilitarian pillows? etc.

Story: Whey he hasn't proposed yet.

He doesn't want to. Alternatively: He has bought the ring but is freaking out about it.

Seven is pretty much ten.

Some evening conversation.

S: I'm a failure at life.

M: We all are. But you know what we're not going to fail at? Death. We're all going to die.

S: Andrew, you know how to cheer a girl up.

M: I do what I can.