I have come to the disturbing conclusion that over half of the world’s population consists of freaks. For the sake of clarity, we shall call these people by their formal title: women.

Don’t get me wrong – I am a woman and, therefore, a freak. This is because (I don’t want to get too subtle here) all women are just plain retarded.

OK, I know what’s going on right now. Every guy reading this is nodding and thinking, “”My God, she’s right. Women are freaks.”” Meanwhile, every female is doing either one of two things. They are either in the throes of a full-on hissy fit (which is so not helping you disprove my point), or they are coming to grips with the fact that I’m right. If you fall into the latter category, I congratulate you for your emotional maturity and astuteness. But you’re still a freak.

What is my reasoning for making such a rash and socially reprehensible statement? Ha! I’m glad you asked!

My main basis for the assertion that women are weird (and this should have been obvious from the beginning) is Leonardo Di-fucking-Caprio. Whoever made that man a sex god has to be absolutely insane.

But I have other reasons, too. And they aren’t George Clooney. (Two words: Gag me.)

For example, why do women always have to pee? Surely our bladders can’t be that much smaller than men’s. I mean, just because our ovaries happen to be taking up space in there doesn’t mean that our bladders are the size of M&Ms (though that does conjure up a lovely mental image, doesn’t it?).

And not only are we in the bathroom every five seconds – we’re there in groups. Groups! Why? What the hell is so scary about being in the bathroom alone? I have seen the student body at this school, and let’s face it, it’s not like our asses are so small we’re afraid of falling in.

Maybe I’m being a little critical of women on this point, though. So we bond via urination. After all, men bond by beating the shit out of each other and then comparing car engines. (By the way guys, “”engine”” is not a synonym for “”penis.”” Trust me, I looked it up).

But that brings me to another point: Women can’t drive. And there are actual statistics to back me up on this point – women are the cause of more accidents than alcohol and Barry White combined.

OK, that I made up. But it is a proven fact that women cannot operate cars like normal human beings. This is because females somehow got the idea that automobiles were meant for personal grooming.

Ladies, I cannot say this enough: You are not supposed to put on makeup in the car. You are not supposed to apply and/or dry your nail polish. And you are definitely not, under any circumstances, supposed to daydream about George Clooney.

The car was meant for going as fast as you can without getting in the way of other people. In other words: Quit driving like a woman and just drive. Repeat after me: It is OK to change lanes … Signaling is my friend … I can go the speed limit.

OK, let us examine the evidence so far. Women can’t hold their urine, walk into bathrooms unless enforcing the buddy system or drive. But it gets worse.

Why is it that the estrogen-inclined people of the world get tired after one throw of a football (assuming, of course, they weren’t too afraid to break a nail), but they can shop for hours without skipping a beat?

Say you’re a woman at a mall. You step into a store and spend at least an hour circling at least twice looking for the perfect article of clothing. You don’t find it, but that other shirt is just “”to die for.”” You spend 20 more minutes looking for it in your size. You head to a dressing room. You disrobe. You try on said shirt. But wait! What’s this? It’s too small? Well then it’s back on with the clothes and back out to find a bigger size, and now it’s back into the dressing room and holy shit aren’t you tired yet? Do you have any idea how much energy you have wasted on this shirt that just makes you look fat? (And that looks exactly like the one you have hanging in your closet or that you wore the night before … etc., etc.)

All right, I may be getting carried away. All I know is, the bathroom and the mall are simply not places that people should be spending the majority of their waking hours. Especially not if there is drag racing to be done.

But perhaps the most convincing argument that women are abnormal is just the stuff they say in regular conversation. For example, the question “”Do you think that girl is prettier than I am?”” should never ever be asked. Yet women ask it! All the time! It may vary to include “”Do you think I’m fat?,”” but it’s pretty much the same nonsense.

And why can’t girls ever say what they are angry about? It’s not a cliche – I have actually heard women use the phrase “”Well if you don’t know why I’m mad, then I’m not going to tell you.”” Give me a break!

But my all-time favorite is the patented “”AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! A spider!”” Umm, has it escaped your attention that you are approximately 5,000 times the size of that arachnid, and that it is crawling away from your gigantic ass? That spider has absolutely no intention of attacking anyone, let alone a hysterical woman. Guys, next time just tell us to shut the hell up and kill it ourselves.

So basically — I cannot stress this point enough — women are freaks. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had to pee for the last six paragraphs.