Boys go to Jupiter

Well I just accidentally did something I usually only do at the dentist's office. No, I didn't wet myself in terror at the sight of a Novocain needle. I listened to five minutes of the John Tesh radio show (far more shameful than public pants peeing).
So John Tesh tells me that it turns out that Jeremy's complete lack of interest in the events of my day[1] is my fault.
See, according to Uncle Johnny, I shouldn't try to talk to Jeremy when he's texting because men are not good at multitasking. And Jeremy's lack of ovaries makes him not care about details[2] so I should skip the details of my stories and get to the point.
What I love about this Mars/Venus mumbo jumbo is that it takes this tiny crumb of scientific truth and tries to serve it up as a loaf of bread. Yep, it is true that most men are better unitaskers than most women. Nope, that has nothing to do with why my husband doesn't listen to me. 

Yep, most men, when presented with, say, seven different shades of the color blue, are unlikely to be able to be able to tell that there are seven different shades - to most men, all blue is blue. 
That does not have anything to do with my man not being interested in my day.[3]
I hate crap like this - this notion that men and women are so fundamentally different that we have to look at brain scans to fix our marriage problems. 
Communicating isn't nearly as complicated as people think. Take Jeremy and I: I talk, he pretends to listen, no problem. He can pretend to listen while texting (or pretend to listen while he pretends to text in the hope I'll take the hint and stop talking). He can pretend to listen while I recap all of my typographical trials and triumphs. He's pretending to listen right now, and I'm not even talking to him.
See? Easy. 
(Jeremy wishes to for me to clarify that he doesn't actually text. Or pretend to text. Notice he didn't dispute the whole "pretending to listen" thing.)

[1] To be fair, I'm a technical writer. The most thrilling part of my day involves getting Word to mother-freaking indent the appropriate number of spaces.
[2] This, despite the fact that he has just triumphantly pointed out a continuity error in this episode of Scrubs, wherein a sea lion named Betty is referred to as a harp seal several episodes later. Yep, he is a man who hates details.
[3] see [1]