Conversations with C: "Chicks are WEIRD, man."

Since my last few posts have been a bit intense, this seems like a good time for a lighter one, the latest in what is turning into an ongoing series inspired by conversations with my 19-year-old nephew C. :c)

We were waiting in the buffet line at the reception following the services for my cousin.

C was more than a little bleary-eyed, having arrived home at nearly 4:00 AM from what was, clearly, an epic evening.

"God, what a night, dude," he sighed with a weary shake of his head.

(For the record, he refers to everyone - including his mother and grandparents - as "dude.")

I nodded sympathetically.

"Could I ask you for advice about girls?" he asked.

Realizing my immediate response - "If you can't beat 'em, join em" - would be wasted on him, I simply nodded and tried my best to look wise. (It is not, alas, a look that comes naturally.)

"I had to give these three girls a ride home," he began, rubbing his eyes.

"Were they friends of yours?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"I didn't even know them before last night," he said, a look of befuddlement on his face.

He paused.

"How do they DO that, dude?" he asked. "How do they get you to do stuff you don't want to do - AT ALL?"

As happens so often lately when I talk to him, it was a struggle to keep a straight face.

"I don't know, C. Why don't you ask them?" I asked. "And then tell me," I added hopefully after a moment.

(Even secondary research has its value, after all.)

He looked at me with a horror-stricken expression.

"Are you kidding?" he said with a gasp. "And get them even madder at me? They were already slapping me! And for NOTHING!"

The mental image of my nephew - all 6'-2" and 215 lbs of him - being pushed around by a gaggle of petite co-eds nearly made me choke on my ginger ale.

"Are you sure it was for nothing?" I asked him after regaining my composure.

"All I did was ask why they start screaming at each other for no reason," he said wearily. "And then two seconds later they all start to cry, hug one another, and run off to the bathroom together!"

"Well, there you go," I said, spreading my hands wide. "Timing is key. Never, ever interfere with a girl on her way to the ladies room."

"What do they DO in there, anyway?" he asked with a hint of wonder. "I mean, I know their bladders are smaller and all that, but c'mon!"

I had nothing to say to that. This is one of the mysteries I most look forward to solving firsthand.

He shook his head again.

"Chicks are WEIRD, man," he said, his voice solemn.

Don't I know it. :c)

***

What else could I possibly post after that than this gem from the pen of Mr. Declan MacManus (a/k/a Elvis Costello), as covered by Dave Edmunds with the backing of the mighty, mighty Rockpile?