IN DEFENSE OF SLOBS by Thom Reese

Let’s get it out in the open. No need to dance around the facts. Of the world’s slobs, the majority are of the male persuasion. Not all. I’ve seen some fairly ill-refined females. But a good hefty chunk of this demographic are men. So guys, this is for you. Ladies, come along for the ride and quite possibly learn a wee bit about your male counterparts.

Now, to be fair, I don’t consider myself to be a slob. At least not one of any Olympic stature. I don’t leave food under the couch. I don’t drape my laundry on the car antenna. I’m probably more of a hopeful amateur than a true pro. Yes, if I know I’ll be writing at four a.m., I leave my laptop on the kitchen table overnight. Yep, my jeans lie on the floor next to my bed awaiting my early morning return. No, I don’t shave on my day off. And never but never do I make the bed.

Gasp!

Truthfully, I find these things perfectly natural, acceptable, and quite functional. It seems to me that slobbery has more to do with unrealistic gender expectations than it does with any actual defect in the personality. Most slovenly behavior is defined as such by the female of the species. Us guys just see it as the way things are.

A perfect example: making the bed. This is the single most useless daily function ever devised since tossing salt over one’s shoulder for good luck. It serves no purpose and leaves the bed less functional than it had been moments before. Think of it, you wake up, get out of bed, the pillow’s perfectly conformed to your big, lunky head; the blankets are rolled back awaiting your return. But no. We need to make the bed. Get it all neat and tidy. Picture perfect. For who? Is Better Homes and Gardens on the prowl? Is the president dropping by for sushi and pizza? Actually, it’s more likely that the dog will be the sole beneficiary as us human types will be at work. If I make the bed, that means I need to unmake the bed before climbing back between the sheets to contemplate my inner eyelids for eight hours at the end of a long day. What’s the use?

Another key point of agitation between the genders – laundry.

Guys tend to let it pile up. We sometimes wear the same socks more than once – and we won’t even talk about underwear. A man’s laundry might be found in somewhat peculiar places such as, but not limited to: the garage, the kitchen, any space involving a television or video game, and sometimes even atop the dining room table (quite possibly draped over the laptop computer).

Of course the gals have the whole laundry thing figured out. In fact, a woman’s concept of “doing laundry” is so alien to most male type guys as to defy definition. They have a special pile for whites, a pile for brights, a pile for intimates. I’m not even sure what an intimate is, but I know I’d best stay clear. They have three different detergents and some mystical liquid called fabric softener. They use spin cycles and dryer sheets. They “treat” stains. I sometimes think nuclear fission is less complicated.

But ladies, do you know how – when left to his own devices – a guy does laundry? (I’m about to reveal a sacred secret here. Hope this doesn’t run me afoul of the Guy’s League of America.) First, a guy will check the washing machine for loose change. I’m not sure where this change comes from, but I’m thinking maybe the sock gremlin leaves tips. The guy then pulls a shirt out of the hamper, extends the arm, and applies his nostrils to the arm pit. “Ah! This shirt smells fine. I can wear it another three times before washing it.” The guy then puts the shirt on and goes about his day. The laundry is done. No hassle. No wasted time.

How does a guy cook dinner? Hamburger Helper. If the hamburger’s a little too old, add some extra pepper and maybe a dash of Worchester. If the hamburger’s really, really old – skip the hamburger altogether and just fix Helper.

The baby needs a bath – garden hose.

The baby needs a change of diaper – “Oh, honey, he just did that – five hours ago – right when you walked in the door.”

The dishes have piled up – wash the big ones first. It gives the impression that you’ve been at it for hours instead of rushing into the living room every thirty seconds to check on the game.

The dog stained the carpet – “Oops, sorry, hon. he just did that – five hours ago – right when you walked in the door.”

Okay, maybe I’d better shut up now. Somehow I don’t think I’m helping the cause. Besides, I need to go make the bed.

Thom Reese is a Las Vegas based writer whose weekly radio show, 21^st Century Audio Theatre, previously aired on the 50,000 watt KDWN. Fourteen of Thom’s audio dramas will be released by Speaking Volumes Quality Audio Books throughout 2010. Thom studied comedy writing at The Second City and works in market research for CBS Broadcasting.

Copyright 2010 Thom Reese All Rights Reserved.

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