Tuesday, October 5, 2010


You need to understand: I was not overly blessed with manliness to begin with.

I have never been good at or much interested in team sports. And don’t get me started on the game of golf. What is it with watching golf on TV? How do people do this? I’m sorry, but I will never understand it. And I have a hard time relating to guys who can’t look you in the eye while they talk about how everything is “okay” all the time. I’m not big on hunting, though I do like to go fishing on occasion. But I’m not good at it. And I don’t like pickup trucks. I actually, honestly, really do like my mini van...

I think you get my point. If you don’t get my point by now, I’m sorry, but I can’t keep going with that. Suffice it to say, I’m troubled by the fact that I’m just not in a very good position to turn my lack of manliness around because I have been blessed.

With three daughters. Three. T-h-r-e-e. And no sons. I’m all alone here, people.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my daughters like crazy. I wouldn’t trade them for anything or anyone. They are light in my life. They are beautiful and amazing. But these three daughters are growing up into three teenage girls who will, God willing, become three grown women. And if you add their growing estrogen factories to my wife’s fully developed and highly functional estrogen output, what you have is a prescription for my ending up with a complete masculinectomy.

Example: I get in the shower. Can I find a bar of soap? Not a chance. Do they even make bars of soap anymore? I haven’t seen one in years. So what do I have to choose from? Cucumber melon sparkle something or other body wash with Jojoba and rice juice extract? Something nutty like that. And shampoo? Watermelon lime whatsit whatever with maximizer this and volumizer that.

You say, “Okay, grown man, go to the store and get your own bar of soap.” I say, “Oh yeah! And where would I put it? Every nook and cranny is filled with odd concoctions, scented in every conceivable way.

I get out of the shower smelling like the fruit drawer in our refrigerator.

I sense that my testosterone levels are progressively decreasing, day by day, due to environmental influences, and I may be reaching a crisis point where all that’s left is a shell of a man who should have prepared himself by playing a little sports now and then and maybe chewing some tobacco or learning how to grunt out expletives while fixing my car. That is, I mean, my truck. Pickup truck. With a gun rack on it, right? Something. Anything. I don’t know.

What I do know: I don’t stand a chance.

Philippians 4:13
Peace to you.

© LW Publishing 2010


  1. You just made my day, Dave.. haha funny stuff

  2. One of the funniest blogs ever.
    They do make bars of soap, I still use them.
    Also, as long as you can keep going to the con every year, it will be all good.

  3. Yes, there's always the con. But you certainly realize that there are many who don't exactly see that as a manly event. Slavish adoration of television actors, grown men dressed as comic book characters, etc. But we do what we can, right?

  4. You are so funny. I can just see you in a pick-up truck with a gun rack. You made me laugh. You are kinda outnumbered, but we love those girls.

  5. LOL!

    no, the con isn't the manliest of events. nothing wrong with it though. just don't be one of the people that dress up like funny characters.

    if you get the urge to throw a ball around let me know. your manliness would go up a notch. for out of control manliness, i refer you to the old spice commercials. these are very helpful.

    by the way, i like minivans too. notice i didn't say that i like MY minivan. my minivan is junk. i just wish i had a good one.


All comments are subject to my approval. All profanity and disrespectful comments will be deleted. Be nice or I will pretend you are not there.