I spent the entire weekend steeped in estrogen, and I really feel like I need some manliness to bring my testosterone levels back up to par. I’m not picky; I’ll take any kind of manly action so long as it’s thoroughly macho and smells like dirt and engine oil. We could have a belching contest, or look at power tools and grunt. Fist bumping is mandatory of course, and it would be nice if we talked about sports and the various women we’d allow to touch our junk. I need this, okay. I am far too in touch with my womanly ways.
It’s election time in Canada – get out and vote, damnit – and I hate seeing the landscape covered with election propaganda. It’s ugly and it never goes away in a timely manner – it seems like half the people who are so proud of publicly announcing their allegiance to the NDP or Conservatives or Communist Party of Canada forget about the signs as soon as the votes have been counted and they’re left to rot on the streets.
That being said, I kind of wish I had a lawn of my own so I could put up this sign I just made:
I wonder if I could get away with hanging it off my balcony.