(Some) Girls Don’t Understand Me

My sister and I visited the National Gallery of Victoria today.
There were many interesting artworks, but I’d have to say my absolute favourite of the day was this gem:

“An Interesting Story”
James Tissot
C. 1872

Look at the painting.
Look at the guy trying to explain how he took his ship through a dangerous system of islands and coral reefs and jagged rocks, most likely whilst being chased by pirates and zombies and the French and God knows who else.
Look how his whole body is being involved in the passionate telling of this epic story…

Now look at the girls.

Look at the one on the left. Not surprisingly, she seems to be completely uninterested.
She’s probably thinking about the pantaloon sale down at Ye Olde Sportswench.

The one on the right isn’t even pretending to care. She’s being as facetious as shit. I can imagine the poor guy telling his whole story, looking at this chick, then the chick slapping him in his face for being boring.

Anyway, the reason I love this work so much, apart from it being technically amazing, is because it reminds me of a lot of conversations I have with some girls about something only I’m interested in.
It’s easy to look at the guy in the painting and think “What a prick. He’s probably boring those poor women to death with his mundane war stories”, but have you ever tried to explain the genius of the original Star Wars trilogy to an uninitiated girl without her laughing in your face?
In some cases, if a girl is vaguely familiar with Star Wars, she will likely argue that the new franchise is better on the basis that it is newer… when it is, in reality, very much inferior to the original series.

But I digress…

I’m the first to admit I don’t exactly have the most mature taste in pursuits… just last night me and a bandmate were throwing a dead fly at each other.
But dammit… just to see a certain look on a girls face is enough to throw any guy off his course.
And how I loathe seeing the expression of disinterest in some girl’s faces when they’re looking mockingly at me, while I give them a rundown on the final stages of World War 1.

What? You mean you don’t want to hear about the genisis of rap music? What about the origins of the DC hardcore scene?

You don’t care about history at all?Really?

That’s okay, I guess we can talk about which of your friends you think are the biggest bitches again.

***I’d just like to stress once again, that this entry is only about some girls… well… most girls I spose.***


Filed under Humour

5 responses to “(Some) Girls Don’t Understand Me

  1. i want to shop at ye olde sportswench!

    i dont know what girls ur talking to james but those of us at oh-errol find you tres interesting. you can tell us about the versailles treaty anytime you want baby!

  2. ooh, did someone mention history?

    once we’ve covered versailles can we talk about submarines in the sea of marmara?

    wait … I think I’ve forgotten what I was talking about.

    in other news I’ve totally seen that bored face before – on the guys from an unsuspecting melbourne band in the brighton bar who got cornered by kiki for a lecture on why it is WRONG for a gasnier not to play league. poor bastards.

  3. Jimmy

    omg. i knew you girls were very concerned with world affairs and history… in fact I could expect a completely sterling answer from youse guyses about anything I write… except rugby league becauseI find it quite tedious compared to AFL. (Sorry, it’s not personal…) btw, I’m totally off-guts drunk… it’s 2am and I just got back from the local… $3 pots baby!!!Rememer: I was refering to 9/10ths of the female population in this post…. I’m so fucking srdunk rigt hnowl..;,.,hg.m,t..g…. i’ll regret thisss

  4. OMG drunk on a weeknight. you really are our sort of man.

    will forgive u for liking AFL, u are from melby after all. I only have rage for ppl from NSW and QLD that follow AFL. traitors!!

    also sassy I maintain that guy loved every minute of my lecture. EVERY MINUTE.

  5. like me they’re probably waiting for the toilet humour to begin.

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