So, there I am on Victoria Day, hacking away at my front (formerly paved) mud patch (Read: good old Toronto clay), with a spade, trying to turn it into a garden. Neighbourhood old guy passes and says in a thick Italian accent, "You are working like a man."
No honey. If I were working like a man, someone would be in the house making me drinks and dinner. Since I'm the bitch who'll be making the meal post shovelling, I have this to say to Old Guy: I am working like a woman. And that is way HARDER.