Tim Allen - Don't Stand Too Close to a Naked Man

You never know when Jill Goodacre will pop by.

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If men have tools, so do women.

Women as a rule have different priorities. Their tools come in a cosmetics box, which is just a fishing‑tackle box, only for women. Operating on the "real men don't ever look in a woman's purse" principle, I've never snuck at peek in a woman's cosmetic kit. I'm afraid of what I'd find. Shampoo, combs, and brushes are no big deal, but what's that scissor thing with a half moon of foam on it. I've seen one lying around, but I still can't figure out what it's for. Taking the eyeball out and dusting or something? Don't fiddle with women's stuff when they're not around, either.

"What happened to my eyeliner pencil? Did you touch it?"

"Ohhh. The phone rang, I couldn't find anything else to write with. It's just a pencil, I'll go replace it." Thirty‑eight bucks and a decent command of the French language later. .

Epilady is a woman's tool that has always confused me. The only thing louder than that machine is her screams as it rips the hair from her body. It was the most returned gift ever at Kmart. And they took it back, though they don't generally take personal hygiene products back-for good reason. But women had no idea how rough the Epilady was. And when they found out, and tried to give it to their husbands, there were no takers.

"No thanks. I'd rather not rip the hair off my face. I'm going to need it again tomorrow."

Note: Don't put women's underwear on your head and run around making faces. If you must experiment, try it when she's gone. You can look in the mirror longer, and you're much freer to express yourself. I recommend her bikini briefs, ears through the holes, and going nuts to the Tijuana Brass Whipped Cream on Top album. You know the green cover with that naked girl hidden by Reddi Wip? Oh, and for god's sake be sure to pull the shades. Wow. I was just making that stuff up. You didn't think that I. . I was just saying that. I don't do that. Unless you do that. Do you do that? If you do that, then I may have done that once-or twice. Unless you haven't. Then I was just kidding.

Women use stuff like concealer powder. Lamb placenta. Lamb placenta from Estee goddamn Lauder. I'm guessing it's lamb placenta from a lamb, but they know best.

"It's from Europe!"

"Yeah. I'll bet it's the rage in Bulgaria." Now there's an attractive bunch of women.

I can't buy my wife anything without gems in it anymore. Often she tells me to buy her stuff that I'd want to see.

"We've been married for years. Just use your instinct."

So I bought her a bench grinder. That pissed her off.

"Well, if you're not going to use it, I'll just store it in my shop." I wanted to smooth things over, so I got her a scissors sharpener from QVC: "It eliminates the worry of sharpening scissors at home!" When I heard that, I was half drunk with anticipation. My Visa card was so excited it dialed the 800 number itself. Now that I can sharpen all my scissors, I'll save all that time. I'd forgotten that I'd never sharpened a pair in my life! I've got the same bent‑up pair I had in high school. When I was little, my mom had some good scis sors in a little velvet case, in the safe‑deposit box. She put them there after I tried to use them to trim my little brother's ear lobes. She caught me and screamed: "Don't touch the good scissors for god's sake. They're from Europe!"

Some people think a vibrator is the ultimate women's tool. Not me. I think women would rather have lipstick than a vibrator. Lipstick makes them look pretty. A vibrator just makes them look scary. I'm a little suspicious of those neck vibrators and body massagers I see in the gift catalogs. Why do they list them by inches: seven, nine, eleven. Isn't that just a little odd? Even so, I've never heard of a big run on vibrators. But a new shade of lipstick, with a $30 "free" makeup‑kit gift with purchases of $6,000 or more. This is what women want. A tip: Stay away from department stores during cosmetic specials. It would hurt less to be run over by a buffalo stampede.

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I once went to Sears to buy a workbench. I thought it was about time. Sears had a sale on. It came in a big, big box and there was some assembly required. There were instructions, but I didn't need those. Hey, I'm a guy; my balls will tell me how it all fits together. At that point in my life I didn't have many tools except those in a telephone drawer by the kitchen phone. Unfortunately, something was stuck in the drawer and I couldn't open it. Finally, I heard a snap, and the drawer opened. Inside was a picture of another family. Also, pens that didn't work, broken rubber bands, seven batteries. Four are good, three are not, and you will never figure out the combination.

Clearly I needed some tools, so it was back to Sears. I had to buy so many tools that I didn't want to make two trips. So I rented a Ryder truck. I backed that big diesel turbo up to the loading dock and hauled out half the tool‑department stock. Now I got your needle‑nosed, vice‑grippin' monkey's mother, three‑quarter drive and socket‑pulling, inside‑outside torque jig rip cross. . Yeah, I got myself some tools. Tools that fix tools. Most of them rubber‑coated for safety. And duct tape. No shop in America is complete without ninety feet of three‑inch‑wide U.S.‑made duct tape. The silver kind. My wife thinks it looks good across my mouth, too. Matches her jewelry. My motto: If you can't fix it, duct it!

My mom once gave me a gas grill, a Sunbeam 3200. Dual burners, rotisserie grill, pull‑down serving area, and in a handy garden cart. But it came unassembled. It looked like a car bomb.

I decided to build it right in the living room and give the whole family a chance to participate. Besides, the light was better indoors and I was flying on pure instinct. Who'd have thought there'd be any grease involved in the process? Every guy's been where I've been. You finish building it, it looks great, but there's a weird bag of important‑looking stuff left over.

"Honey? Why don't you try the grill out first? I'll be in the basement with my welding hat on."

She pushed it out onto the deck and lit it up. Suddenly the place looked like a nuclear test site. Whoosh!

"Ahhhhhhhh!"

"Honey, run toward my voice!

"Running just makes the flames hotter!"

"That means this thing that's left over is a fuel regulator! Not supposed to spray your hair like that. Guess I don't need to tell you, do I? Why don't ya come in and I'll put some salve on that for ya."

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The thing I like most about men's stuff, from tools to stereos, is that your presence affects your possessions. When they glitch, it's probably because you're in a hurry or a bad mood. I've got two TVs at my house that, if I'm in a real bad mood, don't turn on. I called Sony about it. The man says, "I wouldn't touch it if you're in that mood. Don't go near your stereo either."

I decided to also avoid the houseplants.

This is when you finally realize that guy stuff has gotten stupid. It should have been easy to tell the first time I had to read the VCR instruction book more than I got to watch videotapes. And another weird thing. In my video room it's always twelve o'clock.

When men's stuff starts affecting the time zones, you know it's time to spend more time with your family.

Like most men, I'm confused by feminism. It also confuses many women, but that's someone else's book. For the longest time I wasn't sure what the word actually meant. At first I thought it was "the study of what men do wrong." That was because many of the loudest early voices in feminism seemed to be man haters. They didn't like us. They said we'd screwed up everything. They thought the planet would be better off without us. When they were feeling generous, they might say that men were only good for one thing, and that we weren't very good at that, either. I don't know why, but I took that personally.