Size Matters
09.11.09
Small is cute. Big is Better.
A guest blogBy Karan Shaner
Long ago, before I had
children, a perpetually messy house and endless piles
of laundry to fill the empty spaces in my life,
Arnold and I went to movies quite regularly. One
night the movie featured a kitten or a puppy. I
remarked to Arnold that I thought the puppy (or
kitten - I can't remember it all the clearly) was
cute. Arnold shot me a puzzled look.
"Why do women always think small things are cute?" he asked. He was sincere with his question, although, at the same time, he seemed a little disgusted - or maybe even frustrated - with my comment.
I thought for a moment, wanting to be careful to give an intelligent answer, while avoiding the temptation to launch into a feminist rant. The puppy in the movie was cute. Most puppies are cute. So are kittens and foals and calves. But, it's not their size that makes them cute and moreover, it's not just women who find them cute.
Finally, I answered. "Women don't think all small things are cute, you know. There are lots of small things that women find unappealing."
"Like what?" he prodded.
"Like baby alligators", I said. "And ants. They are small and they are not cute. They're creepy".
That's about where the conversation ended, but he and I both knew that I could have gone on. Granted, I may not be quoting the conversation verbatim, but my point is this: In certain circumstances and with certain things, size really does matter and less is most definitely not more.
I am, of course, talking about vacuum cleaners.
I can't help wonder why the bone heads who design vacuum cleaners can't figure out that they need to be bigger. Way bigger. All they're good for now is picking up dust and cobwebs, and the occasional penny or quarter.
If vacuum cleaners were designed by women, I'm sure it would be like having a rider-mower for my living room. The perfect vacuum would easily suck up all the things that really, really bug women. For example, the entire Bratz doll, instead of just one of the detachable feet. I've tried to vacuum up Janet's Bratz dolls with my current vacuum, but the oversized head gets stuck in the hose. The same goes for those stupid toys from the dollar store that make their way into birthday loot bags, like the little rubber balls that are soft enough to bounce in the kitchen, yet hard enough to break the glass in the china cabinet. They, too, get stuck in the hose and slow me down on the road to domestic order.
I love the kids' artwork, but, (like most parents, I expect) I am running out of room for it. Before I caught on to the fact that I would be getting a collection of art and other assorted projects from each of two children every year for at least fourteen years, I saved everything. It is currently stockpiled in several bankers' boxes in the basement. Janet routinely checks the garbage, and questions Every. Single. Box. that I take out of the house, so tossing it is not a viable option. A vacuum cleaner designed to suck up large pieces of paper, some with large amounts of macaroni glued to them, would be perfect.
The ultimate vacuum would hungrily devour all of the crap that husbands seem to stockpile, too, like the hundreds of Golf Digest magazines invariably found in the night stand or other stuff that is being saved for the apocalypse. Of course, the fantasy vacuum would include as a standard feature a hose big enough offer any woman who lives with a man the ultimate satisfaction: It would suck up both dress and sport socks of any colour, not only from the middle of the living room floor, but from other nooks and crannies, like under the recliner and off of the couch.
Clearly, a vacuum of this magnitude, and promising this level of satisfaction to women everywhere just couldn't be small. It would have to be gigantic, with a huge hose and great big bag. More would be more.
And, despite it's size, women everywhere would think it was cute.
For more from Karan go to www.failedmommy.com
"Why do women always think small things are cute?" he asked. He was sincere with his question, although, at the same time, he seemed a little disgusted - or maybe even frustrated - with my comment.
I thought for a moment, wanting to be careful to give an intelligent answer, while avoiding the temptation to launch into a feminist rant. The puppy in the movie was cute. Most puppies are cute. So are kittens and foals and calves. But, it's not their size that makes them cute and moreover, it's not just women who find them cute.
Finally, I answered. "Women don't think all small things are cute, you know. There are lots of small things that women find unappealing."
"Like what?" he prodded.
"Like baby alligators", I said. "And ants. They are small and they are not cute. They're creepy".
That's about where the conversation ended, but he and I both knew that I could have gone on. Granted, I may not be quoting the conversation verbatim, but my point is this: In certain circumstances and with certain things, size really does matter and less is most definitely not more.
I am, of course, talking about vacuum cleaners.
I can't help wonder why the bone heads who design vacuum cleaners can't figure out that they need to be bigger. Way bigger. All they're good for now is picking up dust and cobwebs, and the occasional penny or quarter.
If vacuum cleaners were designed by women, I'm sure it would be like having a rider-mower for my living room. The perfect vacuum would easily suck up all the things that really, really bug women. For example, the entire Bratz doll, instead of just one of the detachable feet. I've tried to vacuum up Janet's Bratz dolls with my current vacuum, but the oversized head gets stuck in the hose. The same goes for those stupid toys from the dollar store that make their way into birthday loot bags, like the little rubber balls that are soft enough to bounce in the kitchen, yet hard enough to break the glass in the china cabinet. They, too, get stuck in the hose and slow me down on the road to domestic order.
I love the kids' artwork, but, (like most parents, I expect) I am running out of room for it. Before I caught on to the fact that I would be getting a collection of art and other assorted projects from each of two children every year for at least fourteen years, I saved everything. It is currently stockpiled in several bankers' boxes in the basement. Janet routinely checks the garbage, and questions Every. Single. Box. that I take out of the house, so tossing it is not a viable option. A vacuum cleaner designed to suck up large pieces of paper, some with large amounts of macaroni glued to them, would be perfect.
The ultimate vacuum would hungrily devour all of the crap that husbands seem to stockpile, too, like the hundreds of Golf Digest magazines invariably found in the night stand or other stuff that is being saved for the apocalypse. Of course, the fantasy vacuum would include as a standard feature a hose big enough offer any woman who lives with a man the ultimate satisfaction: It would suck up both dress and sport socks of any colour, not only from the middle of the living room floor, but from other nooks and crannies, like under the recliner and off of the couch.
Clearly, a vacuum of this magnitude, and promising this level of satisfaction to women everywhere just couldn't be small. It would have to be gigantic, with a huge hose and great big bag. More would be more.
And, despite it's size, women everywhere would think it was cute.
For more from Karan go to www.failedmommy.com