The desire to see Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers in concert last summer outweighed the urge to remain at home and not drive 45 minutes north to Baltimore, Maryland on a hot and steamy, Sunday afternoon.
Most men, myself included, hate shopping for clothes. To be honest, we would walk around naked if it weren’t for society’s stupid boundaries. Shopping for dress clothes ranks right up there with getting eaten by rats while being forced to watch a Sally Jessy Raphael marathon. Sorry, but there is a -4% chance I will ever get excited about spending an inordinate amount of time and money on clothes I only wear because I’m forced to do so. Continue reading “Lost in the Rectangle Purgatory”
I may technically be a man, but I’ve had some shady dealings with some effeminate things lately. Fir-scented candles being one. Actually, it’s perfectly acceptable for a man to enjoy a fir-scented candle. What isn’t acceptable is harassing the owner of the local boutique shop who gets them in every fall, by inundating her with daily emails asking if they’ve arrived. Continue reading “Manless-ness”
I hate trying to fly kites. If you happen to be in the 2.4% of the population that can actually manage to get the stupid thing into the air, your reward? Straining your neck and eyes as a multi-colored parallelogram flies overhead. Wow, what a wondrous prize (eye roll). Continue reading “Go (try to) Fly a Kite”
I wouldn’t donate one of my kidneys to just anyone. Don’t send me a friend request on Facebook, then start schmoozing with me for a few minutes about how we were friends in 9th grade English class, and then slip in a, “Hey, man, I need a kidney.” I didn’t have friends in 9th grade English class. Don’t tweet me a sob story or send me a sad Instagram photo of your dog. Besides, I don’t even like dogs. I didn’t help anyone move when I owned a pickup truck, and this is no different. Continue reading “No one is taking my kidney!”
The other day, an attractive lady approached me in front of my favorite coffee shop. I had never seen her before, so the fact that she seemed to be making a beeline toward me was quite surprising. Women simply don’t behave this way in my presence.
The cleaning lady in my office wants me dead. I have no physical proof or a motive for this yet, just keen observation. It’s best that I present you with the evidence and allow you to draw your own conclusions. Continue reading “Calendar Concerns”