Pay, Pump, and Go.

I was pulling up to a gas pump yesterday that a woman was just leaving and when I got out of the car a shrill female voice shouted across the gas station, “What the fuck!” It was the very same woman who had just gotten back into her car and pulled away.

“Yea?” I said. She again repeated, “What the fuck!”

That’s how women solve problems. They stop whatever they’re doing and scream obscenities until someone refills their bottle. That’s also why little girls shouldn’t swear, because as they grow up, they’ll be frothing at the mouth to do so.

Obviously, the woman was upset because she was somehow not done with whatever she was doing that a man would have done in half the time.

“I thought you were done.” I said.

Another woman came out of nowhere and began comforting the first who was well in hysterics. After all, I had just robbed her of her due right to purchase gasoline exactly how and when she had envisioned doing so. Without a man’s sense of priority or perspective, this act was tantamount to me waltzing into her wedding, tipping over the cake, making gang signs in all the pictures, and then seducing her mother for the evening and not calling her the next day. Real class act basically, and all I did so far was open my car door.

The new woman instructed the other to use one of the many pumps around the other side of the petrol station.

“Hey!” I said clearly and deliberately as though I was addressing a rebellious mule. “I thought you were done.”

Like every man does in absolutely every situation, I fixed the problem immediately. I simply backed up and went to another pump. By the way, that’s a good strategy when it comes to dealing with women caught in the wild mania that they call their home — simply back up and go for another. It’s not like suffering any of her bullshit is going to win you an award or any fucking compassion. Women have the memories of goldfish.

I hesitate to make this article about how men are better than women at filling their car with gas, although it’s completely true. As I watched the completely normal — let me stress that again — completely normal woman whose make-believe logic and hysteria you encounter a hundred times every day, continue her grand gasoline purchasing adventure, I discovered two things.

Mistake number two was that she had pulled up to the pump on the wrong side, thus prompting her to back out in the first place. That explains the cursing, I thought. When women are embarrassed they will try to eviscerate everything that they can get their talons in — especially their own children.

Mistake number one was that a man gave her a set of car keys.

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