We got off the Titanic first.
We can scare male bosses with mysterious gynecological disorder excuses.
We can be groupies. Male groupies are stalkers.
We can cry and get off speeding fines.
We've never lusted after a cartoon character or the central figure in a computer game.
Taxis stop for us.
We don't look like a frog in a blender when dancing.
Free drinks, Free dinners, Free movies (you get the point).
New lipstick gives us a whole new lease on life.
No fashion faux pas we make could ever rival The Speedo.
We don't have to fart to amuse ourselves.
If we forget to shave, no one has to know.
We can congratulate our teammate without ever touching her ass.
We never have to reach down every so often to make sure our privates are still there.
We have the ability to dress ourselves.
We can talk to people of the opposite sex without having to picture them naked.
There are times when chocolate really can solve all your problems.
We'll never regret piercing our ears.
We can fully assess a person just by looking at their shoes.
Many enraged psychiatrists are inciting a weary butcher. The butcher is
weary and tired because he has cut meat and steak and lamb for hours and
weeks. He does not desire to chant about anything with raving psychiatrists,
but he sings about his gingivectomist, he dreams about a single cosmologist,
he thinks about his dog. The dog is named Herbert. Racter, "The Policeman's Beard is Half-Constructed"