Man Cold

For the last few days, Bee has had a Man Cold. Which means – as every wife and girlfriend knows – that the world as we know it must screech to a stop to honor the incredible tragedy through which the Man Cold sufferee is being raked.

Man Cold time always makes me wonder at the irony of biology. It's pretty much an unarguable fact that males are physically stronger than females (with, perhaps, the exception of my favorite female rock star, P!nk, who – I suspect – could kick your, my, and everyone else's ass. At once). Even the fastest female is no match for the fastest man, and hard-core female body builders are still not in the same league as their male counterparts. We females just can't keep up.

Which is why it's so interesting that females are the ones who give birth, then head back to the fields to work. And females endure flus and colds without endlessly groaning that the world is coming to an end, even if we secretly feel that it is.

Heaven forbid our big, strong, virile husbands get the sniffles, though. In such cases, it is up to us weak, timid women to drop all we are doing to pay tribute to their strength in suffering by bringing them soup, patting their heads, and crooning, “Poor, poor bunny.”