Men Are Strange

“Do you believe what my Ralph asked for for Christmas? Sunglasses!”
“Men are strange.”
“You’re telling me. Like I’m going to get him sunglasses.”
“Men are truly strange.”
“Well Ralphie boy is. I mean, could he ask for tools or electronics like any normal guy? No. Not even something for that Camero of his. I tell you, Velma, if you ask me, he’s got the hots for someone at the plant.”
“Some men are strange.”
“You said it. I mean, why else would he want new sunglasses?”
“I don’t know. Some guys are so strange sometimes.”
“Well that’s it. I’m sure of it. After thirty-four years, little Ralphie has got the hots for some little floozy down at the plant, and he thinks if he puts on a new pair of shades it will hide his big fat gut and his bald head.”
“He’s not so fat.”
“No? Well, you don’t buy his clothes. And that’s another thing. He keeps trying to get into his old size 36 pants. He’ll never get that flab into a 36 again.”
“He’s not so bald either. I’ve seen balder. Besides, some women like bald guys.”
“You think so?”
“Honey, I know so. But like you say, men are strange.”