Screw This!

I bought a drill.

I can’t understand why it took me so long to get one, the thing is amazing! 

I went on Craigslist to find a used one and lo and behold, a man was selling a bunch of ’em. He had at least eight drills, which begs the question: Why does a man need more than one drill? Well once I got that thing in my hand and I felt its intoxicating power, I totally understood.

Holding that drill down low around the crotch area, pointing it at things, feeling its rotating vibration in my hand… well I imagine that’s what it must feel like when a man holds his own drill. 

I wouldn’t truly be living in a man’s world if I just bought the drill outright without haggling with the guy, so on my drive over there, I started plotting his demise. Huh, demise… that’s an interesting choice of word… kinda out of character for me. I would never purposely plot someone’s demise. 

Really, I was only thinking of the best way to use my feminine wiles in order to manipulate this guy down in price, and considering how many drills he had, it probably wouldn’t be that difficult. But when I got there, I found he was an older gentleman, so I knew I had a formidable adversary. Old dudes have been around the cinder block a few times, so I knew I had to come up with something good.

He showed me two different drills, one that came with just a battery and a bigger one with more power, but heavier. That one had several batteries, plus a flashlight; it was a tempting choice. If I were a dude, I would’ve chosen the one with the extras, since that’s what men do; they always go with “extra”. But I’m not… I’m smarter, so I chose the lighter drill with just the one battery because I know that it’s not how big your drill is, but rather what you can do with it. 

In the course of our conversation, he asked who the drill was for, and when I told him it was for me, he shot me a dubious look, which I could have taken as an insult, but considering the circumstances, I let it slide right off me like water off a ducks ass. I went on to say I was a single mom and if I had any trouble with it, my son could help me. 

Son… *snicker *snort  

I don’t have any kids.

When he shot me this look of compassion, I knew I had him right by the ball bearings. I offered him half of what he was asking for and he said “Well, since you’re a single mom, I’ll let you have it.” 

Hello, Daddy! 

I took a man down in a man’s world with a man’s own tool… talk about power! I didn’t even have to resort to showing him my panty hamster!

I hopped into my man-made vehicle and hit the man-made road, and as I sped down the highway at 40 miles per hour, I belted out Van Halen’s “Ain’t Talkin’ ‘Bout Love” along with David Lee Roth, a man that’s as manly a man as man could get.

Then I noticed this guy trying to get in front of me so he could make a turn at the upcoming intersection, but I said screw that! No way I was gonna let a man overtake me, so I pulled alongside his car to taunt him, and as he looked over to see what kind of man would do that to another man, I winked and gave him the finger.

I was starting to feel my biceps bulging through my blouse and when I looked down at my crotch area, I could’ve sworn I saw a bulge, but then I remembered I had dropped a banana down there earlier.

When I got home, I took out that baby and started drilling and screwing everything in sight, even in places that didn’t need screwing, just like men do. Every time I take out that drill and hold it in my hands, I feel powerful. It’s like a gun, but one that makes sense.