Gemmie

“think. ‘About what?’ I say. She gets all mad and stomps off to the bedroom. Now how in tarnation am I supposed to know she had her hair fixed a different way? I ain’t some faggot hairdresser. If she’d had it shaved off or dyed green, I most likely would have noticed.” Kevin thought this over. “Dahlia’s temperamental, but her hair’s the same.” “She buy a new dress? That can be dangerous.” “Not in a long while. She just kicked me out. Whenever I try to talk to her, her lips get all puckered and there I am on the porch.” “There’s your problem,” Earl said. “No man should be trying to talk to a woman. They’re a whole different breed, all the time wantin’ to know how you feel about things. Buy her a big bottle of cologne at Wal-Mart and tell her you like her hair. Just don’t sound like a faggot, okay? Keep in mind God ain’t married. Now go get that beer.” “You know anything about men?” Dahlia asked her mother-in-law while they took turns dipping into the bowl of popcorn. “I’ve been married to one for over thirty years,” said Eileen. “Far as I can tell, they’re all the same. The only reason they have faces is so we can tell ’em apart. Hardly”
― Joan Hess, murder@maggody.com

“Do you know anything about women, Pa? What makes them act the way they do?” Earl belched thoughtfully. “Ain’t no man that understands women. Take your ma, for example. I come home from”
― Joan Hess, murder@maggody.com

“worth the bother, if you ask me.” “So what should I do?” “Cross your fingers that someone puts out an owner’s manual. Otherwise, we’re all stuck with ’em as they are.” Brother”
― Joan Hess, murder@maggody.com