So, last night, when I got home from work, I went outside, into the back yard, to fix up the garden hose with a connecting plastic female bit that I had bought earlier in the day. I figured it would interlock tightly and solve the current spurting uncontrollably problem. It didn’t. The problem was the male. It wouldn’t slot in because…well, I don’t know, it was 6pm at night and I had a sore neck and I was tired and the bloody thing just wouldn’t slide in which it’s supposed to. So I stuffed around with it for 20 minutes, swearing, turning the hose on and off and trying not to trip over the three chooks at my ankles who were watching me. The chooks are fearless. They no longer run away scared, as I, a human being with supposed, superior intelligence, that they should be in awe of, crosses their path with my magnificence. I’m just the chick who feeds and chats to them. We are past awe. But, back to the hose – so I went around to the front of the house as I figured the back garden hose was being recalcitrant and I would nick male and female bits off the front. Fifteen minutes later, the chooks had given up watching me and gone to bed, and I was still trying to slot A into B and starting to think I had gay garden hose bits. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Another ten minutes elapsed and I threw both hoses and assorted bits across the yard and gave up because it was all too hard trying to work out hose intercourse.
In summation, while male bits are handy, they can get you into a lot of trouble.