I'm all man baby... yeah!

Being a guy is awesome! I am so glad I am a guy. I love being a guy so much that if given the choice to live forever as a woman or live the next 2o minutes as a guy, I'm picking guy every time. I can see it coming already. Women pouring out from everywhere saying things like, "Bobby you're so sexist. How can you say such horrible things?" Well let me think... It's easy. I have some examples, and if you allow me, I would love to share them with you. And don't worry, I'll stay away from the obviously gross things.

#1. It is okay for men to be hairy: I have hair covering the majority of my body, and so does every other human being on earth. In certain situations, my five o'clock shadow actually makes me more attractive. Not so with a woman. I have never been out and heard a guy say, "Dude... check out the chick with the stubble... now that's hot." And you know what? You never will. So while you pluck and wax every 15 minutes, I'm the exact opposite. I'm trying to revert to caveman days.

#2. Men don't give birth: This one will be controversial, I just know it. I'm not bashing childbirth, I'm just glad I don't have to do it. Motherhood does not look like any fun at all. You spend a few weeks puking your guts out, and craving the strangest possible food combinations. You make it through that phase, only to get bigger and wider. It becomes harder to walk and everything on you hurts. And at the conclusion of it all comes massive amounts of pain for prolonged periods of time... And that's it. Women spend nearly a year incubating a baby that genetically is half of a booger flicking, fart lighting goon. And heaven forbid if it is a boy, because you are introducing into the world another booger flicking savage... and someone else who will never fully understand you and your kind. But if its a girl, their formative years will be spent hating you and loving us... So enjoy those nine months full of weight gain, constant bathroom runs, morning sickness, stretch marks, and labor pains. Me and my fellow men will be over here high five-ing each other, thankful that we aren't you.

#3. It takes us no more than twenty minutes to get ready for anything: Women take forever to get ready to go anywhere. It takes an hour to decide what pair of yoga pants you want to wear to the grocery store. Why is that? Is it in case there is some cute guy in the produce section you want to look like you aren't superficial without looking homeless? Think I'm overreacting? Here is an example. The girlfriend was student teaching at a school no more than five minutes from her house. She told me she was tired from waking up at 5:45 every morning... but school started at 7:30 am. I asked her why she was getting up so early, and her response was, "To get ready." Huh? Any guy working ten minutes away from his house is waking up maybe 45 minutes before he needs to be at work... An hour if he actually plans on ironing his clothes beforehand.

#4. You are too emotional: Why is this? The roller coaster that is your emotional range is too much for me. It is so back and forth, so up and down that sometimes I feel I need to take a Dramamine just to keep from getting sea sick. I have never in my life had a moment where I just needed to cry. My day doesn't hinge on my emotional well-being. I have never had a fat day, or been upset when someone else has on the exact same outfit as I do. If that ever happens, I would calmly walk over and congratulate him on his superior sense of style. And the timing of these emotional issues is uncanny. It never fails that your emotional breakdown happens right in the middle of any major sporting event, or when your man is at his most relaxed. It's like the female brain senses these things and sends out chemicals that completely throw everything out of whack. So the next time this happens could you do us two favors? First wait until said game or nap is over... and if you can't just sit and wait and need to move, do it in another room. Because it's really hard to ignore your pacing and sighing no matter how much we try.

So yeah that's just a few of the reasons it is way better to be a man. But even though I consider it to be a gift, there are serious drawbacks as well. The girlfriend barring any major accidents will probably outlive me. But that is okay... because as the wise bards known as Def Leppard say, "It's better to burn out... than fade away."

In My Apartment I Have Many Misjudged Leather Bound Books

A couple of weeks ago, I was smacked hard in the face with a reminder of a lesson learned back in grade school. And when it happened, it was so startling and so pure that immediately i thought, "I gotta share this story... I'm definitely gonna blog about this." But I forgot about it until it hit me again... So now I have a story to tell you with a theme. The theme is that you should never judge a book by its cover.

So as I have mentioned in previous posts, my brother P.K. is legit when it comes to playing salsa music. So my sister, Showbiz, and I went to watch him play at a club were they have social dancing. This means that everyone stands along the wall and you just go up to someone and ask them to dance. It reminded me a lot of every junior high dance I have ever attended/seen on tv, except people actually were dancing. Anyway, ahead of us in line to get in was an asian man who looked like he came straight from his computer programming job at Google. He had the hair parted on the side, big glasses, and a long sleeve button up shirt with I kid you not, a pocket protector in the pocket, complete with several pens in it. I saw him and immediately pointed him out to Showbiz, and we both shared several minutes worth of jokes and laughing.

When we got in and sat down, they had just finished a song. This is tangental, but for some reason in this place, every time a song ended, everyone would clear the dance floor. Which was fine except for the fact that when the next song started up 30 seconds later, everyone was back out on the dance floor dancing... Made absolutely no sense to me, which I felt compelled to let my sister know for the next hour. Okay so back to the story... I look up and I see computer guy, I will call him Bill from now on, I see Bill standing on the edge of the floor. Then when the music starts up again, Bill walks up to easily the hottest woman in the place and asks her to dance. Now this lady looked the part, and she definitely looked like too much for my boy Bill.

As Bill lead her out to the dance floor, I nudged Showbiz, and said, "Watch this! It's about to be a disaster." But it wasn't. Bill apparently was trained in the arts of salsa dancing from birth, because he had it on lock. My man Bill seriously looked like Fred Astaire on roller skates, he was that graceful. I could not believe my eyes... Everything Bill did looked natural, like he was born knowing how to do it. But the jaw dropping moment, was when Bill, with the most stone faced expression, spun his dance partner around several times, grabbed her leg and pulled her close, and then drug her across the floor. Around this time everybody else just stopped and started watching Bill. He was in the zone! When the song ended, Bill dipped his dance partner, and as he let her go, he looked at me and threw me a head nod as if to say "what's up now?" And for the rest of the night, Bill had no shortage of partners, while I sat there watching.

So that's my story... I admit I had it coming, as Bill served me up a gigantic plate of humble pie. But I wonder how many times I've been misjudged by someone who just looked at the exterior instead of actually getting to know me first. I for one know that I will never make that mistake again... and I owe it all to Bill, the salsa dancing computer programmer.