12 April, 2009

A Morning Of Men

Okay ladies, for those of you who don't know, consider this post a public service announcement regarding us men. It doesn't matter if we are 36.5 pounds or 165 pounds. We are all the same.

We like stink.

We are guys. When we look at things like trees, yes we see green things and bark, but our inner DNA tells us we must climb, and not just the bottom notch, but to the top, and if it costs us a punctured lung or fractured femur the so be it. Clear a path.

Oh ya, that stick in the yard, that's not a stick, it's a bat, and look, I just found a red ball in the bushes. Guess what, game on. First pitch, HIGH and TIGHT, right near his melon. "But he's three and half!" Perfect, great time to learn, never dig in too deep. Uncle Dan has him down 0-2 and busts him again with a knuckleball! Lesson learned, swing at Uncle Dan's first pitch, it will be the best you see.

We move through this world with the idea that everyone else and everything else is behind us, trees, hygiene, other species.

The beach too. We just can't simply go to the beach. We need to wear the beach, to smell it, to have it in our hair and ears hours, days, weeks after the engagement. Bury us? Sure, why not. Bring it on. And next time deep the hole even deeper so I can barely breath.

And what do we do after we go to the beach? We eat Mexican food. Cause that is just what we do. Hats on backwards, finger popping, sit near the window, back to wall, and eat massive quantities of comida mexicana, that has our heart sagging and our central nervous system, well, frankly, nervous. And for good measure, we "accidentally" break a Tabasco bottle. "Wink, wink."

Want beans?

Ya, why not. "Your going to be in the car for five hours!" Really, make that a double serving. That car ride is just another challenge.

Men+stink+sloth+food=life. (Write this down.)

At some point in our lives, us men, we all looked at that evolutionary chart and said, "I think I wanna be that guy in the middle." You know the one, sloped shoulders, club in hand, the guy with the simple job; hunt/gather.

And yet despite all this we have a tender side. Bubbles. Ya okay, I'll blow a few just to appease the ladies. We don't really like bubbles, but know we are bound by sacred duties and this just happens to be one of these.

As night falls we find our fire and sit atop the highest hills, looking down on our lives with a clear sense of our place in the world, confident in the path ahead, but never losing track of the wariness of our prey.

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