The Twisted Rantings of the Dantelope

The time has come here at Twisted Rantings to discuss something of a higher importance, something which really means something to the people, something that even John Stewart would give pause to before commenting.

I am, of course, speaking of Number Two. And quite specifically, I am intending to discuss the nature of the difference between the sexes with regards to Number Two.

Let us compare...

Me: planned, 15 minutes average, several chapters of a good book, and in all likelihood, a completed Wall Street Journal crossword puzzle.
TSO: unplanned, typically with a statement like "apparently I am pooping", 2 minutes average, barely enough time to even check for a book.

Me: 817 squares of two-ply and 6 flushes, wasting enough water to fill the shark tank at the local aquarium.
TSO: 6 neatly folded squares of two-ply and 1 flush, barely using enough water to completely soak a dish towel.

Now my wife has certainly learned to be fast because, well, she has to. Trying to perform the Opus Number Two in D Minor while managing two evil midget geniuses in the middle of That Holy Hell That Is Costco At 5PM on a Weekday is no easy feat. But I do not recall a time ever in the 20 years I've known her that she could have been accused of "taking too long" or "using up all the resources". EVER.

Me? Well, I come from a long history of actors who have performed the Number Two Opera on a 30 minute set. My father, The Hyena, was perhaps the master. He could spend hours. I always knew he'd been performing when he would emerge triumphantly from the master bedroom, finished crossword in one hand, completed 800-page mathematics textbook in the other, for no other reason than he had an insideous mark upon his forehead. It's the kind of mark you can only get when you've been leaning too long on your hands in some kind of cramped Cirque de Soleil position upon the Great Ceramic Throne.

My mother? I blinked, I missed. Did you do something? Oh, I smell it... something had to have happened. Never saw a thing.

With the women in my life, it's always clear that something happened. But what happened? Nobody knows. No proof. In. Out. Done. Like a flash of light.

And so, I ask you -- what is it about the two sexes that separates them in their attitude and skills around Number Two? Is there some secret camp in the South where we send our women to learn the Secret Art of Number Two Ninjitsu? Is it Darwinism where men are going to become extinct because, unaware of the impending invasion of vicious Huns, they are killed with their pants around their ankles?

Never before have we asked such hard hitting questions. It's only a matter of time before 20/20 comes calling, I tell you. Eat your heart out, John Stossel!

--- Dantelope @ I'm Number One in the Number Two Business!