If anything, the world needs more feminism, not less. And no, I do not mean more women fighting for their right to be treated equally (although this would be nice). I mean more men fighting for equal rights.
Societies, communities and families all over the world have any number of problems to face and fix. Some are imaginary, others are real, but there are those which many are simply refusing to address. One of the latter is equal rights for women.
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There is always this guy in American soap operas – the dude next door. He usually is very tall and strong, quite a hunk actually, rough around the edges and most certainly an object of desire by wedded and unwedded women in the neighbourhood.
Sometimes, the main actress is not really aware of her feelings about him, other times she is. But before they actually hook up, a couple of seasons and numbers of episodes pass. Then they go through a misunderstanding, followed by a rough patch until they clear somehow magically the air and end up together by the season finale.
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Sometimes, and just sometimes, one encounters a service design as if taken out of a book. Everything looks so flawless and easy to breeze through, sit back and get things done in a jiffy.
I don’t know about you, but I seldom stumble upon a service which is empathic, guiding and responsive. In fact, I kind of believe that the bigger amount of businesses focus on a particular step of the service process and not really considering its entirety.
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As urban legends go, Chuck Norris is the only one who managed to successfully convince his grandmothers he was no longer hungry. And I can relate to that big time.
My life would be very different should I have not been blessed with two incredible grandmothers. They couldn’t be more different from each other not only in the way they cooked but pretty much everything else.
One was a polyglot, a worldly person always dressed up, however modest her means. She always experimented with new recipes. Her sous-vide roasted chicken was something to die for. The soups were always exquisite and no one could ever be bored at lunch or dinner.
The other one possesses hands with skin moulded by decades of working in the fields and gardens. Which on its turn gave her little time to spend next to the oven. She has a number of recurring dishes, which she managed to perfect in taste. Her scrambled eggs over the fire are something I will never forget. She is also the most strong-willed person I know.
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Don’t you just hate counting calorie intake? The pressure it puts on you is simply unbearable. Don’t eat this, refrain from that!
I’m a relatively tall man in a somewhat good shape. I am not thin, but neither I am obese. Just a regular Joe with a regular waist problem. In fact, my wife says I am gorgeous. But this could be because of the relationship agreement we’ve signed, where she is to state this obvious fact at least once a week.
As everyone in fourth males in Germany, I actively do some sort of sports. In my case, the gym is my temple for six days each week. And every now and then, I tell myself I will start counting my calorie intake in the hope of keeping a strict diet and start looking like Ryan Reynolds in any of his recent movies.
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