This one arrived today, in 30-point typeface. I love, love, love the woman who sent it. I hate the email. It’s supposed to be cute. It’s not. It manages to insult both men and women, then expect that we should laugh at it. Yuck, yuck, yuck.

Men Are Just Happier People– What do you expect from such simple creatures? Your last name stays put. The garage is all yours. Wedding plans take care of themselves. Chocolate is just another snack. You can be President.

Screeeeeech! Brakes! A woman can be President. Just because one hasn’t, that doesn’t mean we can’t be. On the less-irritating front, the garage IS MINE. Of course, I live alone, but even if I didn’t, I’d expect equal rights. And he’d get equal rights to the kitchen.

You can never be pregnant. You can wear a white T-shirt to a water park. You can wear NO shirt to a water park. Car mechanics tell you the truth. The world is your urinal. You never have to drive to another gas station restroom because this one is just too icky. You don’t have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt.

Women are not mechanically incompetent. I have a brother, 1-1/2 years older than me. Of the two of us, who did all the work herself (oops, gave it away) to remodel her home? Who’s completely comfortable taking on projects — and equally comfortable admitting if she’s in over her head and hiring outside help? You got it. ME.

Same work, more pay.

Okay, you got me there.

Wrinkles add character. Wedding dress $5000. Tux rental-$100. People never stare at your chest when you’re talking to them. The occasional well-rendered belch is practically expected. New shoes don’t cut, blister, or mangle your feet. One mood all the time.

Moody? Are you calling me MOODY? Okay, fine. I can be. But some of the moodiest bitches I’ve ever met happen to wear a penis. Moodiness rarely, in my experience, has anything to do with one’s gender, but instead with one’s mental wellness. Grrr.

The wrinkles? They add character for me, too. Pfffft.

Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat. You know stuff about tanks. A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase. You can open all your own jars. You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness. If someone forgets to invite you, he or she can still be your friend.

These are all so bad (as if knowing about tanks is supposed to be a good thing?) as to not even deserve comment. I know, too late, I commented. But really, people. I hate long phone calls. And I tend to travel with only one suitcase.

Your underwear is $8.95 for a three-pack. Three pairs of shoes are more than enough. You almost never have strap problems in public. You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes. Everything on your face stays its original color. The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades. You only have to shave your face and neck.

You can play with toys all your life. Your belly usually hides your big hips. One wallet and one pair of shoes — one color for all seasons. You can wear shorts no matter how your legs look. You can “do” your nails with a pocket knife. You have freedom of choice concerning growing a mustache..

With the rest of these, it’s all about choice, choice, choice. Makeup? I avoid it, other than when dressing up. There’s no reason my face shouldn’t look natural. I happen to *like* toys. And why would I ever want a belly to hide my hips? I’m female. Hips wider than my waist are a GOOD thing.

You can do Christmas shopping for 25 relatives on December 24 in 25 minutes.

Uh…I do this. Fine, maybe I take two hours to shop for everyone, but still, I do this. There’s a certain freedom that comes with NOT spending the entire holiday season obsessing over gift purchases, and doing it all in a single day makes it a game to me.

No wonder men are happier.

Send this to the women who can handle it

and to the men who will enjoy reading it.

What a bunch of tired drivel that I just reprinted (thus, perpetuating its longevity). Male or female, yes, we’re inately different…but that doesn’t mean that women must by definition be prissy — or that men by definition are slobs.