So the other day I am walking into the congregational dinner following services at the First Presbyterian Church. One of the congregation members peers at me from around a cluster of others milling by the door and is giving me a funny look. Finally she asked if I wanted my coffee mug filled.
My wife sings in the choir. Following the service she met us at the pew, grabbed a few things and told us she would meet us downstairs. Then she looked at her purse and other assorted collection of wifely crap in her arms and looked at me for help. She knew that if there was any way to keep from it, I do NOT want to carry her purse.
Why? Because I am a man, damnit! Men don't carry purses in Oklahoma unless they want to get their ass kicked. And I kind of like our church and the people that go there, so I really did not want to go to a Congregational meeting and asked to have my ass kicked by the fellow church members. So I took the coffee mug.
Did I mention the coffee mug was bright pink with flowers and rainbows and Thommas Kinkade-ish cabins and lights and.. well.. it was pretty girly. So I immediately knew I was in danger of an eminent ass kicking. "Heh heh" I forced a weak chuckle. "It's Mrs. Cris's coffee eh... cup. She eh... asked me to .. uh... Well I am no where near secure enough in my masculinity to drink from a Pink mug! Honest! Really!"
I think the church ladies gathered in that room could smell the fear as well as the sincerity of the final statement. I was allowed to place the cup on a table on the far end of the room, away from all the men, and rejoin the group. Sure I tried to butch it up a bit to cover the embarrassment of getting caught with something girly that was not, in fact, a girl. So I scratched myself, belched the alphabet and challenged my old high school teacher to pull my finger. Luckily the meeting started just before that poor old lady fell for that old gag.
The point is, I am a man damnit! And while my wife (like most other people) refuses to read this bog, I feel I must make a stand. I need to clearly define some deal breakers here that would rob me of the illusion of a rough and tough 5 foot four inch middle aged man of action that may or may not be afraid girls will beat him up... again.
While I have no problem in watching movies where people die (in fact the number of violent deaths has a direct correlation to the enjoyability in my opinion) I REFUSE to watch a movie in which you are led to care about a character that will then die. No to: Beaches, Old Yeller, Brian's Song, Million Dollar Baby et al!
Do not ask me to help you shop for bras. I don't care if they are for you or a family member. I am short, fat and bald, and people point at my once mighty chest and snicker while mouthing the words "man boobs," all too often for me to temp fate by holding up bras in Wal-Mart.
Look from September to January I watch football. I only want to watch a game on Monday night, usually one game on Thursday, a College game or two on Saturday and three games on Sunday. Most of the College games are over right after Thanksgiving except for the bowl games and the Pro games dwindle down after Christmas. After that there is nothing left for me to enjoy in life until next September. You know... except for internet porn, on-line poker, sailing, and hanging out with my buddies.
One more thing. Not only do I not enjoy Home Shopping Network, but the screeching sound of the voices of the chicks on that channel make me want to commit crimes of violence. OH yeah, and we BOTH know that you saying that YOU can watch that crap and NOT buy what they are selling is like ME saying we can watch porn and I wont want sex. You know why? Because I am a man, dmanit!
3 weeks ago