Oog impress tribe
And finally, yeah, there is some genetic thing in men that gives me this tiny little feeling of accomplishment if I can string enough grocery bags on my arms to make it one trip. I win! Hooray for me! Hey, we gotta take the victories where we can find 'em, right?
The old hunt-kill-drag-home-meat-impress-mate-maybe-get-lucky-tonight. And show-stupid Nork-in cave-next-over-me-better-hunter instinct perhaps? ;8^D
Or is more similar to our universal dislike of asking directions?
