Posts Tagged ‘ men don’t help ’

Cavemen: Why You MUST Evolve!

We know that you are genetically predisposed to be any number of undesirable adjectives, but the fact is, you simply MUST learn to adapt to civilized life!

The following photo was taken exactly ONE day after I had completely cleaned the kitchen from head to toe.  This is a prime example of how your Caveman ways will ultimately be your downfall.  Women can only take so much clutter and filth.  When their lives become a broken record, skipping from cleaning to working to cleaning to bitching at you to clean to working to cleaning to working to cleaning to bitching at you to clean, we tend to say ‘Bye bye’.

My Filthy Kitchen

My Filthy Kitchen

Let’s review the image in an attempt to identify the problems and devise solutions.

First, notice what the picture is missing….

If you answered, “Cavemen,” you have probably hit upon the single most important part of this blog post.

There are no Cavemen in this image, leading me to believe that Cavemen are like dogs.  Once they have shit something up, they conveniently leave the steaming pile behind for the XX’s to clean up. In this case, Caveman A has decided that he’s going to bed at 1:00pm so he can be rested for work (his first week since May).  Caveman B has been shipped off to the home of the God of All Caveman to be punished.  The kitchen has looked exactly like this since last night.  Both Cavemen spent the entire evening seeing how close their molecules could get to the molecules of the couch.  Neither had enough energy to fight against the gravity or cohesion of our living room furniture to make their way in to the kitchen and clean it.


What a brilliant question!  Well, I firmly believe that both of them were fairly certain that if they left the mess, since today is my last day off, that I would be compelled to clean it in their stead.  See, the difference between Cavemen and XX’s is that Cavemen are like wolves.  They want to wallow in the scent of their prey.  I guess since they eat food from the kitchen, they want to live and smell like their food (and the mold that grows when it spoils). Probably so that when they do happen  to go into the kitchen to grab their 20th cup of the day, empty a container and leave it in the cupboard/refrigerator/freezer, or stare at the strange and mysterious metal things in the nearby laundry room, that they don’t accidentally scare any inanimate objects.  Just a guess.  I could be wrong.

My dishwasher is pulled out of the cupboard because we found that while I was living in California and renting, the renters allowed a leak to destroy the floor under the dishwasher, sink and now part of my floor.  I cleaned this whole area on my last days off because I was worried about us breathing in mold and fungus.  I assumed that after the space had dried, they would take the initiative to move the big washy thing back, but they didn’t.

The rest is self-explanatory.  Just a frigging mess and I think that they assume it’s like a prize for me.  Maybe they think I don’t have enough to do on my days off already.  Maybe they think that cleaning is my hobby.  Maybe they are like cats and that leaving a mess for me to take care of is a sign of love and reverence.

Die Cavemen, Die!

When I bitch at Caveman A about the mess, he immediately scratches his head and looks for Caveman B.  He goes to B and pounds his chest like a chimp.  He jumps up and down and grunts and blats and oomphs.  Caveman B rolls his eyes, sighs and replies, “Unga bunga.”

I watch this display and realize how the term “Passing the Buck” was coined.  If there had been a dead deer carcass laying in the middle of my kitchen instead of a dirty griddle and a broken dishwasher, Caveman A would have picked these items up and thrown them at B.  Not that I couldn‘t imagine a dead deer being buried somewhere in that mess! It certainly wouldn’t  be a  stretch, sadly.

The fact is, nothing was accomplished.  No knowledge was taken from this.  Are your brains simply not designed to make connections?  Are you incapable of evolving?

To make matters worse, fuel the cave-fire, whatever you want to call it, we went to town today to procure fresh supplies. You know, more things to dump into the kitchen just before my day off.  When we pulled out of the driveway I happened to notice that the garbage ‘pile’ had somehow grown exponentially.

I asked my Caveman what had happened and he made a sound like of like Scooby Doo used to.  That “Ruh?” questioning sound.  The… I know what you’re asking, but I going to play dumb sound.

I repeat my question in simpler terms.

“You see messy mess?”


“Why messy mess?”




And the only functioning higher level brain function kicks into gear in his miniscule Caveman mind.  Blaming.  Yes, Cavemen might be just a giant sexually mature infant, but the one thing they know how to do effectively is Blame.

“Why messy mess not in shed?”

“You no like stinky.”

“Me no like messy mess more than me no like stinky.”

“Me fix when warm yellow thing go away and then come back again.”

“No, me fix when get back home.”

We get back home.  We pile more junk into the kitchen.  Caveman decides instead of helping me, he’ll eat.  I go outside and start mucking through the most disgusting pile of strewn garbage you can imagine.  For all the Cavemen who live in the boonies, Put Your Fucking Trash in a Container.  A container qualifies as something that the trash goes in.  This excludes YARDS and PORCHES.  It INCLUDES garbage CANS and Sheds.

Caveman comes outside after I have almost finished cleaning up the mess.  I have no nice words.  At least none that are longer than four letters.

I come back inside.  Caveman follows.  Caveman heads for the bedroom, smiles at me and blows me a kissy kiss, all nicey nice.

I want to tell Caveman to stick his head in a vicey vice.

Caveman continues smiling (there’s a reason).  He would like me to finish washing his clothes since he’ll be in the bedroom doing more important things like watching TV and napping.

I respond to Caveman by telling him, “Sure, I’ll just add that to my list.  I’ll be cleaning until midnight as it is, what’s one more thing.”

This was at 1:00pm.  Caveman is still awake (it’s now 5:00pm), I can hear him.  Me thinks that Caveman was just avoiding helping me clean.  Caveman is gunna have wet clothes tonight… har    har   har

Let’s look at this bitch blog as an Aesop’s Fable.  For the Caveman reader, please take away the following:

Moreso than anything else that you can think of, resentment is the one thing that will thrust you from the cozy life of the caveman who has a XX to have sex with to living with other Cavemen and wishing that you had used that little walnut sized thing deep between your ears.  If you are only capable of doing the teeniest amount of things around the house to help your XX, do them well.

Realize that five minutes of ANYTHING useful will mean hours and hours of not hearing the shrieking of your woman.

Let me list five minute activities that are guaranteed to make YOUR life happier.

  • Throwing a load of dishes into the dishwasher
  • Throwing a load of laundry into the washing machine
  • Throwing  a load of laundry into the dryer (make sure you did the previous step first)
  • Bringing an armload of dirty clothes from the bathroom/bedroom/spare room to the laundry room
  • Putting garbage in the shed as opposed to on the lawn where all the creatures in the nearby woods will turn it into a smorgasbord.
  • Putting gas in the car before you come home so you don’t leave your XX stranded on empty 3/4 of the time
  • Emptying the trashcan/s
  • Running a vacuum over a floor
  • Running  a Swiffer over a floor
  • Wiping down a counter
  • Rinsing out the sink
  • Wiping pubes off the back of the toilet
  • Using the toilet brush to scrub skid marks off the inside of the toilet bowl

You realize that this list goes on and on right?

All of these activities could be easily incorporated into larger, more pleasurable activities.  Eventually, if you’ve been trained properly, they should become automatic.  For example: When taking a shit, don’t leave the bathroom without the clothes from the hamper because YOU KNOW your next trip will be back to the kitchen to replenish your shit manufacturing system.

So back to the initial statement regarding evolution.  In the case of you, the Caveman, it’s a process where you realize that even though you are still infantile, that by being a completely irresponsible, inconsiderate retard that you may find yourself all alone in the near future.  Alone is not fun.

Grow up and take some responsibility before it’s too late.  You  will be a happier Caveman if you learn how NOT to be so Cavemanesque.