I'm sitting out on my balcony last night, doing my part to support the tobacco industry, when some rather loud grunting and swearing comes drifting over the half wall and gets my attention. Peeking over, I see two men in the building perpendicular to mine, struggling to get a humongo couch out of their front door. It was really not going well at all, judging by the cursing and sweating. In fact, they were completely stuck. Finally, taking pity on the poor bastards, I put down my book, put out my cigarette, and go to offer a hand. Yes, all 100 pounds of me. This was less about my muscle than my common sense... which, them being men and all, they needed all the help in that area that they could get.
It went something like this...
I walk over and, in my friendliest southern accent, ask if they need a hand. They, of course, possessing their fair share of testosterone, give me that look that screams 'what in holy FUCK do you think you can do for US?' Taking it in stride, I first ask them if they've considered taking the couch out the sliding glass doors at the far end of the balcony instead of the front door. See, without a map to give you a visual aid, it's hard to describe what they were working against, but ... right in front of the front door is a little stucco half wall, leading to the stairs that go to the front walkway. They were busy killing themselves in an effort to maneuver the couch around that half wall to the stairs. This is an exercise in futility, which you'd know if you could just see the set up. Now, taking the couch out the sliding glass doors works well, you just have to have someone standing at the half wall *which is further from the sliding glass doors than it is the front door, hence making it the smarter choice* to make sure the couch doesn't go over and squash the downstairs neighbors. That would suck. Well, dude #1 informs me that it won't fit out the sliding glass doors. I blink at him and remind myself that the way to good neighbor relations is NOT to tell the man he's an idiot. If it will fit out the FRONT door, gentlemen, it will most definitely fit out the much WIDER sliding glass doors. But I digress. Since dude #1 has made up his mind about the sliding glass doors, I then endeavor to tell him how he can get his couch out the front door. He, again, is giving me this look like 'for god's sake, we'll humor this female then do it the manly man way as soon as she fucking LEAVES'... the manly man way being, needless to say, trying to force the couch to win in a confrontation with a wall that is going NOWHERE.
So I explain to the beings with the penis'... penises?... peni?... whatever, the dangly bits... that if they will LIFT the couch so that it is not leaving the condo on the floor and trying to batter its way through the unmovable wall, but is rather going OVER it, their problems will be solved. Much blinking ensues. They do the manly man mind meld thing, where they communicate in some fashion that can only resemble testicular Morse code *since I couldn't hear anything but there was obviously thought exchange going on, or what at least passes for it among males*. Finally, they look at me, and dude #2 is smiling and appears to be open to the idea while dude #1 looks as if he's just swallowed shit. I can tell that he's just overjoyed that the little woman has managed to figure out what he COULDN'T.
Well, they have some trouble fighting their manly man ways, as actually implementing my idea is causing them some problems. Dude #1 seems to have problems grasping the idea, or at least getting his muscles to obey, and isn't helping pull the couch BACK, to allow dude #2 to lift HIS end over the offending wall. Finally, they get their collective shit together and get the couch over the half wall. Then it gets really festive. Once it clears the wall, they set about trying to turn it again. This obviously creates a great deal of trouble. I stop them, as politely and self deprecatingly as any souther woman EVER, and suggest, in the most 'gee, l'il ol' me just can't be sure, but it sure seems that if you'd lift it over the wall and have one of y'all stand about three steps down to support the weight as it comes over, thus letting the other one push the couch free of the door frame in a straight forward direction, then the couch could be shifted, once free of the doorframe, straight over to the left and would, gosh, be ON THE STAIRS! Or at least that's what it looks like to l'il ol' me' way possible. More blinking and Morse code of the nuts ensued. They apparently decided that the manly man way was just going to have to take a back seat for the minute, much as they hated to admit it. They followed my directions. Well, almost. I had to stop dude #2 from being flattened and/or breaking his neck at one point, bracing him from behind, as he and dude #1 were not exactly a ballet of coordination. Dude #2 was very nice, all things considered, and far more reasonable than his friend, who, though civil, clearly wanted to let his dick get in the way of some perfectly good advice.
Finally, the couch was down the stairs and on the sidewalk. Men, being gracious creatures, of course remembered to say thank you.
Not.
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