Evolution

Darwin talked about evolution and all, but I figure he got only half the story.
Men may, I accept, have evolved from apes, and the accusation has rightly been leveled about some not bothering to evolve, but I do maintain that this theory applies to men alone.
Women, they probably landed here a couple of millennia back from some far flung galaxy. They’re not the same, people, I’m telling you.
And I’ll prove it too.
Most of us, at least once in our lives (to appear intellectual and all… probably to impress that special someone) have sat in front of the telly and pretended to be interested in Nat Geo or Discovery. And if in that space of time, you’ve caught a documentary on the apes of Africa, you’ll see what I mean.
Those are the guys who’re supposed to be Windows 95, right? With we being Windows XP and all? That’s how it is supposed to have progressed (if I’ve got the right word here), no?
Haan, so now watch that program carefully. The group of monkeys wakes up in the morning, kills time by staring at each other, scratching their butts, monkeying around, until they get around to the business of the day. Gathering food. They’ll play pranks on each other, forage for food, jump on trees, scamper across the terrain, and generally raise Cain. Every now and then, Nat Geo sheds it inhibitions to show some male finally gathering the courage to go up to a female, and they go a-humping all over the scene.
Small note to guys: And in that sense, you see what I mean about whether we’ve really progressed? No first date, no coffee, no expensive meals in fancy restaurants that cost fifty million bombs. Quite literally wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am stuff, this.
Now comes the crucial part. Having done with the business of the day, which includes tending to the young, eating some grub, getting it off with some chick, they settle down for a wonderful deep slumber. All of them, in unison. No one to dispute the issue.
Now here comes the crux of my argument. Guys, see, guys do all of the above. They’ll get up, scratch their butts, forage for food, play pranks, monkey around, and come afternoon time, they’ll fall asleep.
Ladies and gentlemen, and the emphasis is on gentlemen here, have you ever known the fairer sex to sleep when you want to sleep?
No siree!
Just when you’ve finished grub on a lazy Sunday afternoon, drawn the curtains, put on some music, switched on the fan and drawn the quilt, they’ll come up with the kind of sentence that would have struck fear in the most hardened of men.
“Oh hooooney”, she’ll croon, all lemon and honey voiced, “Did you notice? There’s this woooonderful sale on at [substitute that shop in town which happens to be fartherest from where you are, along with it being crowded, expensive, pretentious… and it probably doesn’t serve beer]. Don’t you think we should be going?”
You see, guys?
I’m telling you, that’s how it panned out.
We guys were apes all along, muddling along happily. And the only reason we don’t quite look like apes now is because women have been insisting we scrub ourselves with soaps and shampoos and other ghastly instruments of torture for the last two thousand years.
I’m telling you, life suddenly becomes a lot clearer in light of this advanced theory of evolution.
Men are apes, women are aliens. Sort of like Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, but far more correct.
More on this later. It’s ten in the morning on Sunday (note Sunday), and I have to go for breakfast to some place nearby.
“Why”, do I hear you ask?
You must be a very sarcastic alien.