When I was a kid, my brother and I used to play hockey in the living room. Although my dad must’ve been proud that he raised two overtly masculine, athletically gifted boys, it meant nothing to my mom. All she knew was that, by choosing to play indoors, there was a strong possibility that some of her various tchotchkes would be shattered into thousands of tiny little tchotchke pieces by a plastic hockey stick.
Since my mom automatically assumed that my brother and I would break something playing hockey in the house, we moved every breakable item to a safe spot on the carpet, away from our direct area of destruction, just to prove her wrong. One such item was a ceramic cat. At about 5 inches long, 3 inches high, and weighing only a few grams, we placed the cat off to the side of the piano, standing alone in a deserted area of fluffy carpet. Safe. And. Sound.
After an hour of brotherly hockey love, we called it quits and began to put the house back in order. Nothing was broken, and in just 5 short minutes, everything we moved would be back in its rightful place. Nobody would ever know that a tornado had just ripped through the area. As I bent down to pick up the ceramic cat, it tipped over on its side… and snapped in two.
Seriously. Something that weighed about as much as a nickel, fell delicately onto the soft, cushy carpet beneath it, and broke in half without any human contact, whatsoever. How the hell was I going to explain that to my mom?
You see, for whatever reason, women seem to think they have this thing called intuition. Apparently, a good number of women are of the belief that instead of a penis, God gave them the ability to see into the future. Like a superhero out of the pages of a comic book, though, with their power comes a weakness — their intuition is strictly limited to the negative.
You’ve never heard a woman say, “I think you’re going to win the lottery this week. Call it woman’s intuition.” Or, “I have a feeling when we go to the bar tonight, we’re gonna meet another girl and wind up back here for a threesome. Just a hunch.” No, it’s always, “I know he’s cheating on me. I can sense these things.”
You wanna know why women’s intuition doesn’t extend beyond the boundaries of the negative? Because like Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the 12″ penis, it doesn’t fucking exist. Women can’t see into the future. They just worry a whole lot, and the only way to explain their insecure feelings is to attribute it to an imaginary super power that only they possess.
Now sometimes, when a woman has a bad feeling about something, it coincidentally winds up coming true. Though this would seem to lend credence to their misguided beliefs, it actually means very little. Basic statistics tells us that if you guess at anything 100 times and get it right 4 or 5, you’re not a prophet; you’re Mel Kiper, Jr.
It’s been roughly 13 years since that ceramic kitty incident, and, to this day, my mother refuses to believe that my brother and I didn’t break the damn thing. She’d rather believe that her intuition told her that something like that would happen if we played indoors. Mom, if you’re reading this, let me make this very clear:
Your intuition sucks. We played absolutely no part in breaking that stupid cat!
Now, the clock? Well…
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