I smashed my finger in a door yesterday. Do you hear me complaining about it? Actually, I did it in a Starbucks and was unable to scream out in pain for fear of causing a scene. Instead I played it cool like Rambo sewing up his own injuries.
Then I opted NOT to use the protective cardboard sleeve that protects our precious hands from our hot beverages. Why? Because I'm a man!
Also, I painted my son's room, hung a shelf, and maintained my bulbous gut SIMULTANEOUSLY. All man.
It's true that I often fail to wake up when my alarm goes off at 4:30 AM which means I'm not getting to the gym like I want to. And it's true that I love watching the Capitals play on the TV. But I've also been known to lift many heavy objects and drive many miles of monotonous terrain with minimal complaints. And I've also been known to provide my bride with the humor and affection befitting of a righteous, devoted husband.
I'm a man and it's about time I remind you of it, World. Criticize my apparent faults all you want, but don't forget who shocks himself while fixing a light switch, or who sticks his hand in the back of the toilet to stop an annoying leak, or who holds you tight in the warmth of the night. This guy.
The culture of keeping men from acting like men has to stop. This post is in response to a recent McDonald's commercial where a man is afraid to tell his woman that he likes to watch football on Sundays.
Men who can't be honest with their women are not men.
Anyway, today my finger hurts like a mammerjammer!
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