Most men don’t cop to this, but it’s true: the best part of arriving at work after a snowfall – and on time! – is issuing a gruff dismissal of weather conditions to anyone who asks about your drive in.
No problem. (indifferent shrug) Pretty easy.
Instant (if temporary) boost of testosterone!
Along these lines, a list of twenty-five things that (apparently) make one a man. More specifically, a hetero man. Of course, any one or all of these traits might easily apply to women, or to gay men. Or gay women, I dare say. The ultimate origin of this tongue-in-cheek list is unknown; I copied it outright from glyph.org. Nothing edited, so be warned.
OPENING JARS – nnng, she’s struggling. You take it from her hands, open it effortlessly and pretend she loosened it for you. She didn’t. Jars are men’s work.
CALLING SOMEONE ‘SON’ – especially policemen, but even saying it to kids makes you a man.
DOING A PROPER SLIDE TACKLE – Beckham free kicks? Gay. A Stuart Pearce tackle is the pinnacle of the game, simultaneously winning the ball and crippling the man. Magic.
SHARPENING A PENCIL WITH A STANLEY KNIFE – blunt, is it? Hand it here love. No, I don’t need a sharpener, you think I can’t whittle.
GOING TO THE TIP – A manly act which combines driving, lifting and – as you drop your rubbish into another huge pile of other rubbish – noisy destruction.
DRINKING UP – specifically, rising from the table, slinging your coat on and downing two thirds of a pint in one fluid movement. Then nodding towards the door, saying, “Let’s go” and striding out while everyone else struggles to catch up with you. God, you’re hard.
HAVING A THIN BIT OF WOOD – in the shed, solely to stir paint with.
HAVING A SCAR – Ideally it’ll be a facial knife wound, but even an iron burn on the wrist is good. “Ooh, did it hurt”. “Nah”.
HAVING A HANGOVER AND THICK STUBBLE – When birds have been partying they just whinge. You, on the other hand have physical evidence of your hardness sprouting from your face. “Big night?” Grr, what does it look like.
NODDING AT COPPERS – A moment’s eye contact is all it takes for you to share the unspoken bond. “We’ve not seen eye to eye in the past”, it says, “but someone’s got to keep the little scrotes in line”.
USING POWER TOOLS – slightly more powerful than you need or can safely handle. Pneumatic drilling while smoking a fag? Superb.
KICKING A FOOTY AGAINST A GARAGE DOOR – Clang-g-g-g-g-g-! Stitch that Becks, I kick so hard I set off car alarms.
ARRIVING IN A PUB LATE …and everyone cheers you. It doesn’t mean you’re popular, it just means your mates are pissed off. However, the rest of the pub doesn’t know that.
NOT WATCHING YOUR WEIGHT – fat is a feminist issue, apparently. Brilliant. Pass the pork scratchings.
CARVING THE ROAST – and saying “are you a leg or breast man” to the blokes and “do you want stuffing” to the women. Congratulations, you are now your dad.
WINKING – turns women to putty. Doesn’t it?
TEST SWINGING HAMMERS – ideally, B &Q would have little changing rooms with mirrors so you could see how rugged you look with any DIY item. Until then, we’ll make do with the aisles.
TAKING OUT £200 FROM A CASHPOINT – okay, so its for paying the plumber later but with that much cash you feel like a Mafia don. The only thing better is peeling notes off the roll later.
PHONE CALLS THAT LAST LESS THAN A MINUTE – unlike birds, we get straight to the point. “alright? Yep. Drink? Red Lion? George, it is then Seven. See ya”.
PARALLEL PARKING – bosh, straight in. first time. Can Schumacher do that? No, because his cars got no reverse gear which, technically, makes you the worlds best driver.
HAVING EARNED THAT PINT – Since the dawn of time, men have toiled in the fields in blistering heat. Why? So, when it’s over we can stand there in silence, surveying our work with one hand resting on the beer gut while the other nurses a foaming jug of ale. Aaaah.
HAVING SOMETHING PROPERLY WRONG WITH YOU – especially if you didn’t make a fuss. “Why was I off, nothing much”.
KNOWING WHICH SCREWDRIVER IS WHICH – “a Phillips? For that? Are you mad, bint?”
TAKING A NEWSPAPER INTO THE LOO – a visual code that says “that’s right, i’m going in there for a huge, long man-sized s***”.
CALLING YOUR MATE A C*** – and punching him on the shoulder. Just a man’s way of saying “you’re a good mate; I missed you while you were in hospital”.
Aware of the marketing opportunities involved when a 210-pound prediabetic wishing to lose weight sheds twenty-five pounds in three months simply by graduating to full-blown diabetes.1
And by ‘marketing oppotunities,’ I mean ‘ironies,’ of course.
Weight no longer in freefall, having stabilized at 185 pounds. ↩
Bob Cassilly, doing his middle-aged enfant terrible thing, as KMOV no doubt hoped. Attack, Bob! (Watch until the end for the Cassilly-cam.)
I suspect – just a guess, mind you! – a bit of gotcha journalism at work, with unagreed-upon questions being asked late in the session. Cassilly bit on the bait, unsurprisingly.
