Tinder Tuesday! Week 4

So we’ve been moving all week. Moving sucks and it’s been a bit crazy, but I figured I’d take a break between boxing up glassware and my collection of vintage Batman Band-Aids and bang out Tinder Tuesday! real quick.

Here’s a conversation between my wife and I.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting down to write Tinder Tuesday!”

“No you’re not.”

Blank stare.

“You’re helping me pack.”

“But it’s Tuesday…”

“I swear to Christ if you leave me to pack this house by myself, I will burn your blog to the ground and fucking MURDER YOU!”

Let me be clear. I am not afraid of my wife. She doesn’t tell me what to do. I am a man! I’ve got superior upper body strength and man pants and fucking beer! I’ll do whatever I god damn well please!

But I gotta do it quick because I think she fell asleep on the couch and could wake up at any time. Tinder Tuesday! Go!


This week is all about the worst/most ridiculous profiles ever. Forgive the lack of cropping. Photoshop takes precious precious time. Time I don’t have at the moment.

IMG_2364HAHAHAHAHA… I can only imagine that his left thumb is covering up the first part of “Corn Fly” on his shirt, because that would be even more awesome than his picture. Show me your birth certificate, Greatness… I think you’re full of shit. Oh wait… your parents really did name you that, eh?

Unmatched

GregThis was a no brainer. Come to find out that Greg has very little sense of personal safety. He loves crazy. Maybe I’ll post his conversation next week. Stupid Greg… Nice hair, shitty beer.

JordanNothing says “swipe right” like laying down on a fairway and staring thoughtfully at the green with an ear bud popped out. This guy is a definite winner. Golfers are smart and classy. This guy would be a catch if I were actually not a dude.

Jordan txtOh wait…

IMG_2365Cant go wrong with a classic kitten blaster. The profile text is pretty good too. Oh crap, it cut off. There’s probably nothing fun towards the end of his profile, but what the hell. I’m all about being thorough.

NaziWait, what?! Is this guy subtly claiming that he is a white supremacist? Not possible. The guy must be joking. Why not talk some hockey since he said he lived in Atlanta right before the Thrashers moved to Winnipeg.

img2

Ok, that was super racist. Holy crap. Fun fact, though: Psychologists have theorized that Hitler’s Myers Briggs personality profile could easily have been ENTJ, too.

hitlerI’d swipe right on that any day

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Beer School is Stupid

I could have seen this coming. Beer School is stupid. In retrospect, I should have known that taking a shot for every fact I had to look up would be a bad idea. I don’t know shit about St. Patrick’s Day which should have clued me into the fact that BS #1 was bound to be a night of serious power drinking. Oh, and for those of you who aren’t acquainted with alcohol, power drinking comes with power consequences.

hangoverYeah, that’s about right.

That’s why I’m writing this entry. It’s important that we, as men, talk about the consequences of stupid decisions lest we be doomed to repeat our dumbass actions at some point in the future. You know what they say: Those who don’t learn from the past are probably going to be idiots for a real long time. So here is a list of reasons why Beer School is a stupid decision and should never be repeated.

18 shots

10 shots is a bad idea. 18 shots is a nightmare on a slow burn fuse. I am neither a college student nor a raging alcoholic, though one of those statements may have to change in the near future. I am a regular guy who enjoys alcohol on an occasional basis. Normally, I drink 1-2 drinks per week. Max. There’s no enjoyment in power drinking. I did not drink good alcohol. I just drank. Drinking was not the purpose of the article. The purpose was to get drunk and drop some knowledge bombs on you all. Getting drunk is stupid.

‘Merica Rage

Apparently when I get to power drinking, I get power patriotism. Somehow I managed to take a religious Irish holiday and turn it into a symbol of American awesomeness. And you know? I’m proud of that. America, if you have not already heard, is the tits. If I offended anybody with my ‘America! Fuck yeah!’ style attitude then just remember one thing. America! Fuck yeah! Back to back World War champs! America is awesome. Don’t hate on my glorious inferno of patriotic bliss. I WILL BURN YOU!angry eagle

Or Evan will burn you. Don’t fuck with Evan.

Beer School Started on a Work Day

This is easily the biggest mistake I made with Beer School. Here’s a helpful tip for emergent drinkers. If you’ve got some power drinking to do, don’t do it on a night where you have to wake up 2-3 hours before sunrise. There is a bright side, though. When you wake up 2 hours after you stop drinking, your body hasn’t had time to get hung over yet. This was my saving grace. Because of this awesome fact, I was able to get ready and leave for work 100% on time. The fact that I am a reliable beast doesn’t hurt either. But there’s a down side to this.

happy businessman

Today is going to be a great day. Nothing bad is going to happen at all.

The Down Side

If you beat out your hangover by waking up before it does, then just remember this simple fact. The hangover is coming and it’s going to be brutal. By waking up before it starts, all you’re doing is ensuring that you’re conscious for all it’s misery. Thousands of years of human evolution have honed the human body into the ultimate defensive drinking machine. Once you hit the point of no return, you body will shut itself down and you pass out. For safety. After 18 shots, you better believe that I passed out. For safety. What nature doesn’t provide for, however, is the alarm clock. You see, humans are designed to pass out and then sleep through the entire hangover so that you can wake up in the early stages of recovery. But I don’t need recovery time, I’m a man. I looked nature and all her years of evolutionary progress right in the face and spit.

And she kicked my ass like an Asian going for extra credit.

asian student

 It’s not racist because Asians are the best at school.

crashed car asian driver

Not driving school, though.

The cup

30 minutes into my 50 mile commute to work, it hit me. Oh god. I began searching for places to pull over on the highway.

It wasn’t going to happen.

I was going 80 mph on a major highway in an area with no shoulder or median. The day before I had purchased a medium coffee from Dunkin Donuts and the empty cup was sitting in my cup holder. I carefully removed the lid. And then the wave of nausea passed and I was in the clear. Ha! Sweet success. I beat you, hangover. The laws of alcohol don’t own me because I’m the manliest mother fucker in the history of this whole god damn…. NOPE! family guy

At 80 mph I expelled the contents of my stomach into that beautiful Dunkin Donuts coffee cup with the force of something that I can only describe as “exactly like a fire hose.” Finally the valve shut off. I looked down at my speedometer. 80mph. I didn’t even slow down. Ha! This was amazing. Not only am I manly enough to be able to puke my brains out while handling a high speed motor vehicle, but I managed to catch all of it in a fucking coffee cup! Dunkin Donuts, I am ready for that sponsorship! I was feeling sick, but optimistic as hell. This wasn’t a cup half full scenario, this was a cup completely full… with puke.

1387439253762

Dunkin’ Donuts saved me out there.

I am all that is man! You bastards don’t have shit on me. I have out manned everybody in this whole… NOPE!

family guy

Since I was so impressed with myself, I neglected to empty the full cup of sick out the window of my speeding car in the 4-5 seconds I spent feeling like a god damn champion. Nausea came back for a second pass and Chuck Norris kicked me right in the face. It was everywhere. The beauty of it was that I was sitting there, cruising at 80 mph in my small sedan still holding the coffee cup in front of me as if it was going to help. The cup didn’t help. My wool coat was destroyed, puke was pooling at the bottom of my seat, and my steering wheel became very slippery.

You win, alcohol… you win.

At least I wasn’t late for work.

Tinder Tuesday! Week3

It’s been an interesting week and this one is all about those awesome one liners. Also new for this week is a brand new user submission! Yeah, that’s right, if you’re on Tinder and you get some crazy, screen cap it and send it to me at lawsofmanliness@gmail.com.

Enjoy!

SeanYoniDennisJustin2Who the hell adds that comment into the first 10 seconds of meeting somebody?!

Michael He didn’t appreciate that comment…Travis

NealSome people just have it all figured out. There’s nothing like baseball and mirror porn to up your odds of a successful Tinder date. Keep it classy, men!

facebook.com/lawsofmanliness

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BS: St. Patrick’s Day

Here we go. It’s Beer School time. I feel compelled to let you know that I pre-gamed about 30 minutes before sitting down to write this post with two shots of god awful scotch. I’m completely out of the good stuff and you’re not supposed to shoot it so it was a bad experience. However, I soldier on in the name of science or something. At least I can chase it with some Guinness Extra Stout. So a brief recap on the rules. I write about a topic that I’m not super knowledgeable about. Every time I have to look something up, I take a shot (or half a beer). These shots are indicated by an asterisk.* Nothing here is edited except for some spelling corrections which will no doubt go unnoticed later.

Here’s my setup.

BS setupTime to learn!

For a baseline, here is a picture of me now (sober).

Han Solo

Chillin’ like a motherfuckin’ villian

St. Patrick’s Day is an American tradition. It’s a day where you can, as an American, put on some green underwear and then antagonize everyone who hasn’t by pulling your pants down and showing them your holiday cheer. Also, it’s a holiday where it’s socially acceptable to pass out in your neighbor’s bushes as long as you’re wearing something green. And you know? I can really get behind that.

But why do we really celebrate this hangover inducing holiday? Obviously it’s a day designated to celebrate St. Patrick, that guy who brought Christianity to Ireland.* OH god, leftover cherry vodka is a TERRIBLE SHOT!

Anyway, St/ Patrick also banished all the snakes from Ireland just like Samuel L. Jackson banished all those motherfucking snakes from his motherfucking plane.

Snakes_on_a_Plane“Hello, God? It’s Patrick. Yeah, I got ’em all. Every last motherfucking one.”

So St. Patrick’s Day is a devoutly religious holiday taken pretty seriously by the Irish people. Or at least that’s what my wife has told me every year since we’ve been together when I offer to buy a case of beer and rent Braveheart. Anyway, it’s more on par with Easter Sunday in rural Ireland than the frat party it is here in the US.

So how did St. Patrick make it all the way over to the United States of America? That’s easy. I have no clue. But apparently the holiday started back in the 17th century to commemorate the death of St. Pat way back in the 5th century.* That’s 1200 fucking years between that dudes death and the time they finally decided to do something about it. Christ. I hope it doesn’t take humanity that long to commemorate my untimely yet heroically awesome death. I want a statue in place by 2030. So, taking the better late than never approach, the Vatican ratified it as a holiday in 1631.*

POPE BENEDICT CELEBRATES EVENING PRAYER AT VATICANIt took this guy 2 hours to get down the stairs in the mornings*

So fast forward 200 years,* and St. Patrick’s day makes an appearance in Boston. I had no idea there were Irish people in the US before the revolutionary war. They were probably pretty good at hating the British, too. So now that the Irish are in the US, things started to get moving. That small pocket of Irish people in Boston became Irish people fucking everywhere. Irish people love to procreate as do Catholics. So it was a double threat wham bam of Irish proliferation* (looked up the definition for that word… Sorry, Mr. Nadolny [High School English Teacher]). Ok, that last part was racist. I’m sorry Ireland and wife. I’m super not racist, I just recognize that iriish people love babies. Who doesn’t love babies? Nazi’s, that’s who.

So eventually the Irish started holding parades celebrate St. Paddies day and in Geogia, they held a parade in 1848 that was one of the biggest parades in the world.* For those interested, this is my last shot of hard liquore. I need to wake up for wokr tomoorow at 0430. I’ll be switchign to beer for the remainder of this post. You know what they say, Liguor before beer, you’re good to go. Beer before liquor? Bam, you’re dead.

So… Let’s move on. I want to get to the drinking. So far we’ve got Ireland, some dude named Pat and a bunch of snakes on a motherfucking plane. Parades are great, but when did America start adopting the irresponsible and awesome St. Pattrick’s Day that we all know and love today today? But before we do, snack break!

sandwichI fucking love me some sandwiches

Ok, half a sandwich down and I feel much more sober… That’s not exactly the goal here.

So, for example, did you know that George Washington gave his Irish troops a holiday on March 17th to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day in 1780 (the height of the Revolutionary War)?* Well, he did. And I’ve switched back to liquor because I am nothing if not indecisive as all fucking hell. So, 235 years ago, America’s second greatest badass of all time thought the Irish were badass enough to take a whole day off from war to celebrate their heritage. I can’t even score a day off work to celebrate my birthday. Nice work, Irish.

So St. Patrick, 2000 years later the Vatican, parades, and some other shit. Here we are. Today. Not today, but after the parades. So Irish people have been holding parades on sovereign US soil for hundreds of years now, but St. Patrick’s Day didn’t actually become an Irish national holiday until 1906.* What the actual fuck, Ireland? This St. Patrick guy is supposed to be your national mascot and yet you couldn’t deem it important enough to establish him as a national holiday until the early 1900’s? Einstein came out with the theory of relativity* before you gusy were able to get your holiday shit together. No wonder the British kicked your asses in WWI.

Lucky Charms GuyRepresen-en Irelan’ since 1906!

We’ve already established that the Irish love fucking* and there are a ton of Irish people in the US. Ireland has finally made St. Patrick’s Day a national holiday, and hey! Lucky Charms! Everyone and their mom knows an Irish person. They’re in your grocery store, they’re writing your speeding tickets, and they’re in politics. By the end of the 19th century, St. Patrick’s Day was being observed on the streets of major Irish cities such as Boston, Chicago, and New York. (yay, plagiarism!)* Groups began dying beer green as early as the 1960’s because now the Irish are in your frat houses.* Since St. Patrick’s Day falls during Spring Break, a lot of students in Miami, Ohio (who knew there was more than one Miami!?) would get super drunk on the Thursday before to “celebrate” the holiday. In my experience, college kids will get hammered to celebrate boxing day just as quickly as any Irish holidays so that doesn’t really count. However, St. Patrick’s day does occur during Lent, the international Catholic holiday of self sacrifice.* Since Jesus gave up his life (some cultures submit that he had to give up his Xbox One for a whole week) so that we can gain salvation, the Catholics believe that we should give up something dear to us for 40 days not including Sundays in return (!!!)* Also, (holy fuck! 40 fucking days?!). So, if you were forced by a tyrannical Christian religion to give up something dear to you, what would you give up? Well, this was per-prohibition so 90% of Americans gave up drinking… for 40 days. Now, according to my wife,* God loves Ireland more than anyone else so God gives the Irish a break from Lent on St. Patrick’s Day. Since Lent starts somewhere between the middle of February and the beginning of March,* St. Patrick’s Day usually falls smack dab in the middle of it. So very early on, St. Patrick’s day became a beautiful oasis in the middle of a terrible, booze free day. Irish Catholics had the day off from Lent so they drank. And they drank a fuck ton. They drank enough booze in one day to fill the 3 weeks of abstinence before and after St. Patrick’s Day.

chicago-green-riverNo caption in the world can do this picture justice

Chicago had already been dying the river green since 1962* to look for sewer discharges so why not dye it green now for St. Patrick’s Day? In fact, cities all over the US began dying their locla boties of water green to celebrate dear St. Patrick. Irish pride took off in a way that nobody expected. You didn’t have to be Irish to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. You just had to wear something green and get plastered. St. Patrick’s day quickly became a national and then international holiday. Corporations began to cash in on the holiday and Corned beef and cabbage—rarely eaten in Ireland but commonplace in American cities as a springtime dish—became the meal for March 17. Today you can see more St. Patrick’s Day garbage than Christmas time junk. All because of America’s incorporation of the unquenchable Irish spirit.

corned beefYum, Ireland!

In short, an amazing group of people came to America to find freedom from their oppressors (fuck you, the British!) and found a home in the New World. America has always been about freedom of expression and the Irish built this little known holiday into an international spectical. The Irish came to America hoping to find equality, but in coming here, they not only found equality, but they found a voice as well. They’ve molded themselves into the very fabric of what it means to be an American. St. Patrick’s Day is a celebration of our Marvel origin story. St. Patrick’s day is the closest thing in America to National Immigrant Day.* We are all, in one way or another, immigrants and St. Patrick’s Day is the embodiment of that spirit. The American Dream. It’s a day where we can all come together and remember what it means to be an American. Not just somebody who was born here, but somebody who fought to make this country what it was. We came to this country poor and tired. Beaten and oppressed. We came to this country hoping for a better life, a fresh start and we got it.

On March 17th, we’re all Irish and we should be damn well proud to be one of them. The Irish represent what America stands for. So once a year we honor that dedication. We honor that tenacity, perseverance, and dedication to our roots. And what better way to honor this amazing American legacy than to wear green and get shitfaced? Happy Mothers Day, America. We love you and we love Ireland!

Go Caps!

Statistical recap:

  • Writing time: 4.5 hours
  • 18 shots (I think. Things went a little black at one point)
  • 2 Guinness Extra Stouts
  • 1/2 glass of water
  • 1 completely untouched Guinness
  • Passed out at least twice that I can remember
  • Actually made it to work on time… mostly

Here’s a photo of me at the end of this entry:

Harrison DrunkIt was a rough night.

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Beer School

It’s been quiet here at Laws of Manliness for the last two weeks, but it was wasn’t entirely due to laziness. Ok, that was a lie. It was absolutely due to laziness, but it was at least quiet for a reason… Ok, that too was a lie.

But it WAS quiet. Almost… too quiet. That’s because a storm is brewing folks and it’s going to start raining knowledge bombs all over your god damn head.

You see, LoM is trying something new. Ok, that’s a lie. We’re trying something that’s been done several times before, but we’re doing it better… Ok, that’s also a lie, but we ARE doing something and it’s called Beer School. You see, Drunk History and the Drunk Column have already been taken for names, so Beer School will have to do.

Have you ever needed a manly answer to some of life’s most pressing questions? Or have you ever to be schooled with some every day knowledge? Well, as long as accuracy is not high on your priority list, then we’ve got you covered. However, it’d be boring for me to provide you educational write-ups on random topics, sure you’ll all be better people for having read it, but it’s just so… Wikipedia. That’s why I will be giving you the skinny on things like Football, Mountain Climbing, and Where Babies Come From all whilst totally freaking hammered.

Here are the rules:

  1. I write about topics on which I am not super knowledgeable
  2. I take a shot or half a beer for every piece of information I need to look up
  3. You read my spiral into drunkenness, like my Facebook page, and share the post will all of your friends.
  4. I become famous and perpetually hung over. Lifetime makes a movie about my life

Pretty easy, right? I think so. And what better way to usher in this awesome new idea than by getting ape shit hammered for St. Patrick’s Day. So check back on Tuesday for BS: St. Paddies Day for a manly take on how this American tradition got its start.

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Tinder Tuesday! Week 2

It’s week two of Tinder Tuesday! This week is all about sending up some red flags. It’s amazing what some people will put up with from a pretty girl. Check it out.

Luis1

Billy

There’s nothing better than profile pics from the gym. Also, that “About Me” line is priceless.

Chuck

This one is long but worth it.

Danny 1

After a little while, my wife turned up the crazy on our new friend Luis.

luis animal ghosts

And Danny demonstrated why places like Tinder are so attractive to serial killers…

Danny 2

But nothing beats Arshia. I tried really hard to find a limit, but sometimes there are none. Hope you stay alive, Arshia. Your survival instincts are really shitty!

Ashir or something

I hope you enjoyed everything this week. As always, like me on Facebook! Hopefully I’ll have some non-Tinder related content up in the coming week as well, but we’ll see.

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Tinder Tuesday!

Let’s recap: This past weekend I signed my wife up for Tinder.

No, we’re not exploring an open relationship. You might remember that I’m kind of Internet retarded so I’m breaking out of my shell and exploring various social media outlets. I figured I’d sign up for Tinder to see what all the fuss is about. And by that, I mean I signed my wife up. I’m not putting my information out there. The internet is full of crazy people and you gotta stay safe.

So 2 hours into Tinder I realized something. I had no idea why the fuck I was doing this. There’s obvious comedy value in this column, but what is the end game? It’s great to be funny, but it’s better to do it with purpose. So here’s what I came up with.

The internet is filled with assholes. Most of these people are men and that sucks. Men on the internet who are assholes give other men on the internet who are not assholes a bad rep. One of the major tenants of manliness is to be a god damn gentleman. I’ve read a few articles written by women detailing how terrible online dating is for them and frankly, it kind of pisses me off. I am not a hardcore feminist by any means (the 19th amendment was a mistake), but I do believe in equality and respect. [EDIT: Rich, this last statement was a joke. I find it hilariously ironic that one could denounce the 19th amendment while in the same sentence state that one believes in equality and respect for women. Everyone should have the right to vote. Except the Jews. {EDIT: Rich, this last statement was too a joke. I have a great amount of respect for the Jewish people and their heritage. In fact, I hope to one day visit Adam Sandler’s house so that I can give him a wicked awesome hi-five and swim in his pool.}]

Anyway, Women deal with a lot of unnecessary bullshit from dumbass internet jockeys and somebody needs to be out there trying to balance the scales. So here I am. Trolling Tinder in the name of Justice.

Welcome to Tinder Tuesday.

Let’s start with a simple fact. My wife is hot and her profile picture is pretty key to understanding some of what is about to follow.

LisaMarie1Photo credit: Atomic Cheesecake Studios

We started off strong.

Jordan txt

And got worse.

Jesse2

This guy came out of the gate and basically called my wife a prostitute. I let her handle this one.

robair

So far, the comments were pretty stupid, but nothing really went into full scumbag territory… Till this guy.

Joseph

So then we got a little belligerent with some.

VivekMauricio

Maxime

Hans

Also, guys are fucking stupid.

Justin

photo(1)

Apparently they do, Justin.

Thanks for tuning into the first weekly Tinder Tuesday. Yes, we will be back at the same time next week with some all new material. I think next week is going to get pretty random. Also, leave me some comments because you know… Tinder Tuesday!

PS. Like me on Facebook! facebook.com/lawsofmanliness

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Hello, Tinder

So as some of you may know from following Laws of Manliness this last month and a half, I have been doing my best to push out of my comfort zone and get really into this whole internet thing. I started with creating a tumblr. account and was instantly rewarded by being sexually assaulted by random dick pics. But you can’t let one bad experience ruin the internet for you. That’s why I am forging onward. Only this time I’m being smarter about it.

That’s why I’ve chosen to open a Tinder account… in my wife’s name. Part of me would normally struggle with the moral implications of creating a fake alter-ego on a dating site, but Tinder is so full of stupid ass men that I feel no guilt. In fact, more than anything, this is a mission of compassion. Somebody needs to tell these people what they can do to man up before it’s too late. Also, I didn’t create a fake alter-ego. My wife is a real person (I swear!). I’m using her photo, and even her phone. So check back once a week and get ready for Tinder Tuesdays! (Catchy as hell, right?)

BTW, check back on Tuesdays… That’s why I’m calling it Tinder Tuesday. Get it? It’s called alliteration.

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Knit Hat: Revisited

It’s winter time and my head is cold. I wrote this entry 3 years ago and just in case you’re wondering, I still haven’t gotten a god damn hat. So, with rage in my heart and ice on my head, enjoy this archived topic from 2012.

__________________________________

So let me tell you something: it’s getting really freaking cold outside. It sure would be nice to have a nice warm knit hat. Many of you probably have a lovely knit hat already, but I don’t and here’s why.

My wife is a treacherous fiend. I could pretty much stop the blog post right here and you would have all the information that you need, but there is humor in the back story so here we go.

I met my wife in May of 2009, it was one of the best days of my life. It was a warm day filled with laughter and a lot of booze (the booze was key to snagging that first date). When I met her, I lived in a different state, a so called “Sunshine State,” so long distance was the only option. However, I was at a crossroads in my professional career. I was starting to hate my job for which I was grossly underpaid, and began looking at other options. I found an opportunity that paid almost double and decided to take a month break between the two jobs. The idea was to take a temporary break and move into the frozen north so that I could spend a month with my wife whose treachery was at this point unknown. This happened in October of 2009.

Now October is fine, not super cold, but not warm either and since I was only going to be staying a month, I didn’t bring any winter clothing. That decision made perfect sense until I found that my entry into this new job was being delayed indefinitely. So now I’m stuck in the frozen north for all of winter. Being a manly man, I did the only thing I could think of and bitched constantly about the cold. It was good natured (mostly) because my wife took to calling me her “little lizard,” which isn’t manly at all, but in her words was “super stinkin’ cute.” Wife took pity on me by the way and promised that she’d knit me a hat. This is where the story really begins. If this were a movie, the weird “some bad shit’s gonna happen” music would start playing as the intro credits started appearing on this screen. Fast forward to February; it is cold as balls, I am starting my job back in Florida and I still have no knit hat. She bought the yarn, purchased a knitting pattern, and broke her first real promise.

The Hurt is real.

Even though I was back in the Sunshine State, I still wanted that knit hat. It’s nice to have something hand-made for you. But she then refused. Her argument? You don’t need a hat because it’s not cold in Florida. I’ll make you one when you move up here for good. So I moved! I moved back to the frozen north in October of 2010 with the promise that a warm knit hat would be fashioned for me post hastily. I took a job, the worst job I’ve ever had by the way, where I worked almost entirely outside. In the cold. All freaking winter. And did I get a hat? No! I moved to the frozen tundra that is the middle-east coast after being promised head wear, and instead got shafted. Here’s the kicker, I still didn’t have much winter clothing, and as a direct result of going hatless, I contracted pneumonia and nearly died.

At this point in the post you are no doubt thinking, how can this have happened? There must have been some sort of hat accident or hat shortage because wife promised! He moved up for this hat, surely there must be an explanation. There is an explanation by the way; it’s just a bad one. Apparently, the proper knitting needles disappeared. They up and vanished… or so I was told.

And so it goes, promises made and broken pass by like a poorly done 80’s montage. The messed up thing is that my head gets really cold! I tried to buy a hat once.

“Nooooooo! If you buy a hat it will make me feel bad because I promised to make you one. I’ll start working on it, I promise”

I tried bribing her with her own knit hat.

“Oh oh oh oh! That knit hat is soooo pretty, will you buy it for me?”

“What?! You want me to buy you a knit hat when, after two years you have yet to deliver a single knitted product to my head? Are you out of your god damn mind?!”

“But if you buy me that hat I will love you forever and I PROMISE that I’ll make your hat this winter.”

“Ok.”  And then I pulled out my credit card like a loser.

And so this has happened every winter since I’ve met my wife. Every winter I sit idly by as she spins her web of lies. She’s knit booties and hats for babies, scarves, and blankets, but my head remains cold and unadorned. Nearly every member of my family has a knitted product from her except for me. The current excuse is that there is a knitting curse which states that if she makes me a hat, or any other knitted product, we will break up. I asked her if she had considered the similar consequences of not making me a knitted hat and she had, but she was ok with it. Why do I put up with the lies and betrayals? It’s probably because that even though she is a treacherous hat fiend, I still love her. In the spring, summer, and fall months, I love my wife. She’s beautiful, funny as hell, and a lot of fun to be around. But every winter I am faced with her darkest side. The side that refuses to make me that hat even though I really really want it. In the cold and unforgiving winter months, I must learn to accept that I will likely never get my hat, but at least I’ll have a hot, persistent rage to keep me warm. Oh, and Lovely Wife, if you’re reading this, it’s winter time and I want my hat.

For the love of god, before it’s too late. 

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Hello, tumblr.

So let me be honest, here. I suck at social media. I’m really bad. I have to actively remind myself to interact with my readers via Facebook and Twitter. I don’t know if either of them appreciate it, but I make the effort regardless. I wish I could drop Twitter and Facebook like a bad habit, but it’s part of what I’m trying to do here. I want to reach out and grab a large audience so that I can score handfuls of cash and have a Lifetime movie made about me. Also, I like to write and reaching a larger audience is motivation to keep at it.

So I’ve been told by my internet savvy wife that, to reach more readers, I should start a tumblr. Here’s how that conversation went.

  • Me: What is Tumbler?
  • Wife: it’s ‘tumblr’
  • Me: Ok, that’s literally the same thing only spelled wrong. What is it?
  • Wife: It’s a microblogging site.
  • Me: What the fuck is a microblog?
  • Wife: sigh…

So that’s how bad I suck at social media. Blogs are relatively new to me. I read books written by real authors. Well, it turns out that real authors write blogs too. And as far as I can tell, microblogging is just real blogging only shorter? Kind of like a mix between a Facebook status and something bloggy. My style of blogging doesn’t really fit this model, but fuck it. I’ll give it a shot.

So here I am. On tumblr. Like a real millennial. Here’s what I’ve learned so far.

Tumblr is full of dicks

No, not dicks as in shitty people. Actual dicks as in ‘da wang.’ The very first search I made was for a very much non-dick related query. But tumblr obviously thought I would rather have a dick filled result page. Before I had even titled my homepage I was assaulted by dick GIFs. I don’t care for change and pushed myself outside of my comfort zone to sign up for this site and this is what I get. There’s your lesson, kids. Don’t try new things unless you want a grown man’s dick in your face.

Sigh… If only it was.

According to Wikipedia, the internet’s number one source for information, tumblr is chock full of porn. I have no issues with porn, but there’s a time and a place for it. There is never a time and a place for dick assault, though.

That’s pretty much it

Ok, maybe that’s the only thing I’ve learned about tumblr so far. After the dick assault incident of 2015 I was a little turned off. Also, I have not found many people worth following. But I’ll stick with it. Maybe I’ll even get another reader or two out of the whole deal. So long as they keep their junk in their pants I’ll be good.

If you’re not afraid, follow me. I’d appreciate the moral support.

http://lawsofmanliness.tumblr.com

Also, follow my Twitter, goddamnit.

@lawsofmanliness

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