You’d really think, with all the single women floating around, they’d come up with some way to seal jars that we could actually open.
This meme reminded me of one ironic conversation I had with my flatmate. We were setting up for a Game Night, putting out chips and salsa. She handled the chips. I got the salsa. While we worked, we were discussing how a third friend had asked us to do a Tough Mudder with her.
For those who don’t know, a Tough Mudder is a muddy obstacles course race for insanely fit people. People who are not insanely fit get carted off the course on stretchers. A few weeks ago someone died. But we didn’t know that. Or didn’t care to. Hey – it’s a cool race! Why shouldn’t we do it?
I flipped open my laptop and brought up YouTube so we could watch inspirational Tough Mudder videos. We stood there — she, shaking chips into the bowl, me clutching the salsa jar, and watched waves of shirtless men pour over the 8-foot-wall obstacle, like a sea of muddy crew cuts.
“Where are all the women?” I wondered.
the video went on for what seemed like forever before finally, a lone woman was boosted over the wall by one of the muddy crew cut guys.
“Oh c’mon,” I complained. “Really? Boosted? We’re not going to need to be boosted.”
“No way,” my flatmate agreed. “We are strong, independent women, and we will conquer that course on our own.” (Also, we won’t have men on our team.)
“That’s right,” I continued, “We don’t need men to do our muscle work for us. We can take care of ourselves.”
“Yup. We move our own boxes and and our own furniture — well not the couch, but that was really mostly because of the door — why are you still hugging the salsa?”
“I can’t get the lid off. Can you help me?”
Needless to say, we did not run a Tough Mudder.