Fellas, let me ask you a question: what’s the most frustrating part of your life? I know, dealing with women. Ah, yes, females, how we would we live without them? Well, very happily, I’d imagine. It’s like my roommate says “Girls are like Thanksgiving; only good for the stuffing.”

Granted that may be a little harsh, but he does have a point about the maddening nature in which most women act. Now, making girls look bad is like shooting fish in a barrel. I mean they do most of the work themselves. But, I thought I’d outline some of the things that irritate me the most about the ladies.

First: Christmas or anniversary shopping. First you have to decide what to get, which is the most difficult part. The pressure to deliver a knockout, earth-shattering gift is more than I can stand. She’s expecting some sexy lingerie or some diamond earrings, and I show up with ill-fitting panties, and a stupid “do you like it” grin on my face.

Which brings me to my next complaint: unrealistic expectations. For instance, “you’re not like other guys.” I’ve heard that enough times to know that it’s a set-up. Sure it sounds like a kind, heartfelt compliment, and it is. But as soon as you screw up, and you will, you’ll inevitably hear: “You’re just like all the other guys. I thought you were different, but you’re not.”

That’s right, girls. None of us are different. We’re all scumbags. Each one of us is exactly like the next. If you want a model for the average man, look no further than Homer Simpson. Like America’s favorite animated buffoon, we’re all fat, stupid, lazy alcoholics…but we mean well. All we really want to do is drink beer, watch football, and sleep with your best friend. Women shouldn’t expect anything more from our admittedly dim-witted gender. So don’t be shocked when we forget birthdays, anniversaries, your name. Instead, regard it as a pleasant surprise when we actually remember any of these things. Especially during the playoffs.

Guys’ expectations of girls, on the other hand, are relatively simple: look nice, smell pretty, and be able to slap together a decent BLT (don’t forget to toast the bread). Oh yeah, and don’t ask what First-and-10 means. If you don’t know already, I’ll never be able to explain it. I once tried to explain the NFL playoff format to a girl once. It was like explaining advanced calculus to an eight-year-old. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. This is the same girl that once asked: “Four downs. Why don’t they just do it the first time?”

Men are simple, logical, and easy to deal with. My happiness, for example, relies on three central needs: food, sex, and sports, in no particular order. Granted, when Game Seven of the World Series is on, sports take precedent. And at 2:30 a.m. when the day’s sporting events have long since ended, sex, if I’m lucky, becomes the most important thing. But any single one will make me happy. Any combination of the two is even better. I’ve yet to combine the three, but I think it’s healthy for a man to have goals.

Women, on the other hand, rarely make sense whether they’re talking about what makes them happy or why they are no longer happy. The break-up is far and away the most befuddling thing about being in a relationship. I’ve been canned a few times, and I still can’t figure out what the hell any of those girls were talking about.

Try on these head-scratchers: “I need time to think”, “I have a lot on my mind,” and “I don’t know what I want.” Don’t know what you want? Well, you obviously don’t want to date me anymore. You have a lot on your mind? One of those things is obviously getting rid of me. Time to think? Yeah, time to think about going out with somebody else. As if getting kicked to the curb isn’t bad enough, guys have to decipher female break-up logic on top of that. Listen, ladies, when you send us packing, just give us the bad news straight up.

Lastly, many girls have a hard time detecting sarcasm. For somebody as sarcastic as me, I get in trouble with this frequently. For example, I’ll probably get a deluge of angry e-mails from humorless females who don’t realize that I’m only kidding. I mean only half of what I’m saying and I think I’ve made it abundantly clear that I don’t know what I’m talking about when I do mean what I’m saying. Except about the whole food, sex, and sports thing.