this was an email i sent out before..and of course its from a forwarded email some years back when i was still working as a part time clinical instructor in new york…
do nto ask me who mr. nova is…i dont remembre who that is!
before i go and change the life of new york methodist hospital nurses and PCT’s with my words of wisdom on how to use a vey simple glucometer, i would like to share this insight of mr. nova about women…
(i’m beginning to adore mr.nova…lol…sarcastically speaking)
“Women Are Like…”
Robert Burns—no relationship to George Burns—died before age 40, but created some of the world’s most memorable poetry. You probably know some of his more renowned poetic lines: “O My Luve’s like a red, rose/ That’s newly sprung in June/ O my Luve’s like the melody/ That’s sweetly play’d in tune!” Robert Burns wasn’t the first—nor will he be the last—to draw upon analogies to describe the opposite sex. Women are gorgeous, sensual, wonderfully contradictory creatures that drive men absolutely batty. If women didn’t exist… men would never bathe and would be drinking beer, watching ESPN around the clock, never accomplishing anything worthwhile. Still, even the great poets of English literature struggled to describe women in simple language—they needed to rely upon convoluted analogies, similes, and metaphors. So… what are women really like? Perhaps they can’t be described in simplistic terms. Maybe a series of comparisons are required to accurately paint a picture of the Tender Gender:
Women are like… onions. They make you cry, even when you peel their wrappings off.
Women are like… a snowflake. They’re beautiful, different, cold, and melt when they land on your face.
Women are like… floor tiles. If you lay them right at the very beginning, you can walk all over them.
Women are like… public toilets. If you use enough of ’em, eventually you’ll get a disease.
Women are like… computers. They take forever to warm-up and you always wish you had a newer model.
Women are like… Kentucky Fried Chicken. You open up a box and your hands feel greasy.
Women are like… horses. They look great naked and are fun to ride, but they’re a pain in the ass to clean and expensive to house.
Women are like… a deck of cards. You need a “Heart” to love her, a “Diamond” to marry her, a “Club” to beat her, and a “Spade” to bury her.
Women are like… country music. They’re irritating, corny, and all sound alike. Plus, if you start actually listening to them you’ll become depressed and start drinking a lot.
Women are like… Michael Jackson. They visually change over time for the worse and eventually need tons of makeup and want young children.
Women are like… a leather jacket. No matter how goofy or ugly you are, you always feel like a stud when in one.
Women are like… professional wrestling. Artificial, fake, and scripted—and the cheaters usually win.
Women are like… a taco. They’re most enjoyable when fresh, hot, and filled with meat.
Women are like… Saran Wrap—occasionally useful but otherwise lightweight and clingy.
Women are like… an old pair of underwear. They feel good when touching your crotch, but they wear out over time and need to be replaced.
Women are like… lava lamps—sort of fun to look at, but otherwise dim and not very illuminating.
Women are like… the New York Yankees. They seldom suck.
Women are like… laxatives. They irritate the shit out of you.
Women are like… lawnmowers. If you can’t ride it, you’ve gotta push it around for a while.
Women are like… the stock market. Moody, irrational, and can bankrupt you overnight.
Women are like… potato chips. Betcha can’t have just one!
Women are like… suppository medication. They’re continually up your ass… but claim that it’s for your own good.
Women are like… a Blockbuster movie rental. You never know how many people opened ’em up before you.
Women are like… a new car. They depreciate quickly after they rack up a few miles.
Women are like… a pet turtle. They take forever to come and don’t listen.
Women are like… the horoscope. They’re unnecessary and inaccurate, but mildly amusing if not taken seriously.
Women are like… a Jackie Chan movie. The plot and dialogue don’t really matter as long as the action is good.
Women are like… butter. They spread for dough.
Women are like… a handgun. If you keep one around long enough, eventually you wanna shoot it.
Women are like… a time-share vacation home. Very enjoyable to be in, but at certain times of the month the doors are locked.
Women are like… a box of pizza. You don’t mind sharing it with a friend as long as you get the first slice.
Women are like… the Internet. If you surf around long enough, eventually you get a virus.
Women are like… men—only without logic, intelligence, deductive thought, or the ability to kill bugs.
Women are like… grilled salmon—fun to eat, if you can get past the smell.
Women are like… a graveyard plot—nothing but empty space, yet once inside ’em, you don’t have a worry in the world.