Wednesday, March 04, 2009

Let's Talk Dirt...

Nobody Cares: Let’s talk dirt.

And then, let’s talk about getting rid of the stuff, and just who does most of it, and I think you all know who that is: the women.

Go on men. Let me hear it. Men clean all the time, right? Women are not the ONLY ones who clean the house, pick up the trash, clean the toilet bowls, scrub all the vomit, feces, and leftover spills from the carpets. Why, just last year when your girlfriend was sick…didn’t you clean the whole house in just a matter of hours? Showing her how superior and easy it is to clean a house, and how much quicker and faster a man can do it as compared to a woman?

Well, I agree. Give the man the task, and it’s done BEFORE he wakes up. Besides…it’s a bonified ace in the hole when it comes to showing how much you care about her. And in this day and age of equal rights, and Michelle Obama’s fine-toned arm muscles…men have been forced to show how MUCH they care.

When the real fact is…they don’t. And why should they? If they have a wife or girlfriend who is willing to take of the nest, and even insist on spending hours vacuuming, then why not sit back and watch football?

I certainly would. In fact, I’m going to argue that there’s more to it than this.

There’s a cultural proclivity, passed down by generations of mothers. We are our own worst enemies.

Let’s take the Dutch. Since the first Dutch bankers started giving out loans, their wives made darn sure that those concrete steps to their houses were free of all dirt. They were out early in the morning on their hands and knees, scrubbing their tiny little frozen fingers off, because to be uncleanly was to be…poor. And you couldn’t be seen married to a banker if you looked poor.

On the other hand, the French have never been known for the proclivity to clean anything. To this day, Paris has holes in the street still filled with spit from Napoleon. The women there just spend the day in bed, or putting on wigs, or getting out of bed to put on wigs. All the cleaning was done in bed. And to this day, their beds are still dirty, which is why you should take your own bed sheets to Paris. If they ask you at the airport why you have sheets in your suitcase, tell them you plan to hang yourself in Holland, because you cannot stand to clean on this earth one more minute.

I’m just saying.

Because, sometime in every young girls life…comes the “cleaning” lesson: and God help you if your mother learned the “German” style, because that was mine, and it traumatized me for life.

My lessons in “cleaning” left such an impression on me, that to this day, I break out in hives when I come near a sponge.

I remember it as if it was yesterday: My mother told me point blank one day: “It’s time you help me clean, so clean up this room.” I was about eight. I was busy watching TV. I instantly took the dust rag she gave me and went into shock.

You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought.

You see, the room my mother wanted me to “clean” was, to my eyes, clean already. There was no dirt anywhere. It was a big living room, with a couple of vases and books, and funny looking glass stuff that my grandmother had collected from the downtown Naples, Florida, expensive gift shops, with no meaning whatsoever but to look pretty. So, I was through in less than a minute.

When she came back into the room, it was obvious she was disgusted with me. She took her dust rag and immediately started to dust the TV. I had failed her. She wanted to trade me in.

“What‘s wrong?” I said. “I cleaned the room, really I did!”

“Nothing.” said my mother.

“Well, show me how to do it then!”

Oh---if only I had never said those words.

My mother than proceeded to show me that you started at one end of the room, going from object to object, PICKING each object up, dusting it off, and also dusting the table underneath the object, and then putting it back down. By all accounts, if you clean by this “Dutch spitting German method” it will take you a good forty minutes to clean one room, depending on just how much stuff you have displayed on your furniture.

And that’s not including vacuuming, and washing the walls down after your done with that.
AND, you cannot start at the wrong end, or in the middle, or just do a "spit" job. If you do, it will bother you the rest of the day.

Now, if my logical is correct, then that explains why in all the rooms in all the rich people’s houses on MTV Cribs are bare as bones. Rich people refuse to clean. They have a cleaning lady come in once a day, and then they get in one of their many sports cars, and leave. The last thing they want to do is hang around the cleaning lady.

All they need is a bed, a 100-inch Giant HD-TV screen, and a bed where “the magic happens” and marble floors.

Poor people, on the other hand, cannot afford these things, so to make up for them; they buy every single piece of junk at Wal-Mart and place it all over their house. They collect stuff to make them feel rich. For instance, I use to collect Buffalo Statues, don’t ask me why.

Some people collect those Precious Moments statues--those people need help.

My grandmother PAID my mother to clean her house. So I guess since my mother hated cleaning house, she decided that cleaning two houses was just too much to bear.

Maybe that’s why God made sure I didn’t have a daughter. I could just see me…

You start at ONE end of the room…and you dust all the dirt…”

Now…remember when Hillary Clinton said she was going to take a broom to the White House?

So far, it's not looking too clean...if fact, I'd say we've been taken over by France.



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