Things that deserve the stink-eye:

For realz or just clever marketing?
(I would brand this unsheared oil.)

Hmm. Does my beard stink? Is it not shiny enough? No one's complained. Yet. Honestly though, it didn't occur to me until I discovered beard oil. According to Reddit, beard oil is a good thing. Could be I guess. But then I researched the ingredients. According to the Art of Manliness (also new to me), you can DIY your own beard oil using the following recipe:

-1 tbsp melted coconut oil
-3 drops of peppermint oil

Hmm. Have the same sort sorts of sexist marketing practices that target (and overcharge) women become commonplace for men as well? Totally.

Anyway, I'll let you know how this works out after I finish reading the manly skills section of the Art of Manliness. Lol.

Things one should never outgrow:

goodwill.

My wife peeled a pomegranate for me today. In this season of gifts, a small gift can be such a big gift. I hope you receive such gifts as I do.

Why the fuss Canadians?

source

When asked why he chose equal numbers of men and women to form his cabinet, PM Justin Trudeau said, “Because it’s 2015.”

Boom. Pretty much the equivalent of dropping the mic.

Not all Canadians appreciate this. But I can’t fathom why. If it’s because of sexism, whether willful or through pure ignorance, that’s total bunk. Anyone who has a mother should be ashamed of themselves for that sort of patriarchal nonsense. Personally, I think this decision is a moot point. It doesn’t matter where anyone is on the political spectrum, there is no point debating this. Any debate speaks to bias and sexism because any Canadian citizen age 18 or over, male or female, of a particular race or religion, immigrant or indigenous, ALL PERSONS, have the right to run for elected office. Ever hear of the “Famous Five”? Or the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms? Since 1960. (Go ahead and google it; the history of this is dreadful.) So 55 years later, why is this even a thing?

For those who contend that he chose gender over qualifications or experience like some political publicity stunt, I doubt that, because puh-lease, do people really think there aren't 15 women capable of these leadership roles? Even if some lack experience, it doesn’t mean he chose the wrong people. For eons we’ve had qualified/unqualified, experienced/inexperienced, predominantly male politicians who’ve misrepresented their constituents and our country in numerous and appalling ways. See the Senate for several recent examples. And no, of course, not all are corrupted by power, but definitely a few too many. Anyone, regardless of gender can be nominated, be elected, and be really shitty at their jobs. We Canadians have that right too.

Justin Trudeau could also have answered that question this way: “Because it’s my choice.” It was and it is because Canadians elected him. That’s democracy and despite its misgivings, when I look around the world, I don’t see government better than democracy. So considering it’s November, let’s pause for a moment of silence and reflect on why we have a democracy. And let’s remember how fortunate we are to live where we live. 

Things that (think I) deserve the stink-eye?

Apparently.

Let's be honest.

Thanks honey. Happy Valentine's Day to you too.
And ditto. ;-)

The most? The best?

source

A 17-year-old won the Nobel Peace Prize.

I'm still thinking about that. 

Anyone discouraged by the today’s youth, think about that. Any discouraged youth, think about what you can actually accomplish.

And why did Malala Yousafzai win the Nobel Peace Prize?

1.      Was it because she is a girl?

2.      Was it because she is Pakistani?

3. Was it because her father encouraged her to go to school despite the danger, especially for girls?

4. Was it because she publicly criticized the Taliban for trying to prevent girls from attending school?

5. Was it because a Taliban gunman barged onto her bus one day and threatened to shoot everyone unless she identified herself?

6. Was it because she said I am Malala and was then shot in the head?

7. Was it because she recovered and explained to the world that what extremists fear most seems to be one girl with a book?

8. Was it because she had no desire for revenge, nor is she against anyone; instead she simply wants all children to have access to education including the sons and daughters of the Taliban and all terrorists and extremists?

9. Was it because leaders and organizations all over the world were inspired to support her cause?

10. Or was it because she says, “one child, one teacher, one pen, and one book can change the world”?

Boiled down, the criteria for the Nobel Peace Prize is simple: the prize goes to “whoever has done the most or the best work” to uphold and promote peace. Yet it's so incredibly vague to say, "do your best." Best must be defined. Enter Malala. Her most? Her best? It was her attitude. It sparked, it inspired, it elevated. 

Friends: it’s our attitude. That’s it right there. Define it and it will make the most and the best difference to everyone and everything, even yourself. 

Things one should outgrow...

What exactly did I seed here?

Sometimes things make us so angry we could punch butterflies. I get that. Yet unlike some others I know, as I've aged, my angry-young-man rage seems easier to manage, to contain. Thus, despite occasional lapses, I am actively seeking this goal: do not become a grumpy old man.

Years ago, a young person asked me this: when exactly do people get old? I love this question. It’s a tough one. Although hormones do play a big part in aging, the inquiry was not about biology: not about sagging skin and aging cells. Instead the question was more like this: what’s the tipping point between youthful exuberance and “get off my lawn?”  

Don’t get me wrong. I have a certain appreciation for grumpy old men. All elders have wisdom. All experience lends itself to reflection and contemplation and should be valued. I also understand grumpy old men. We’ve all been punched in the egos by life’s unfairness and grumpy old men have been doing it even longer. Plus our bodies fail us in a variety of ways. Since we men spend much of our youth arm-wrestling and play-punching each other, fading strength is extremely irritating. Plus, grumpy old men can be unintentionally hilarious.  

So how does one avoid becoming a grumpy old man? I think the answer has something to do with pie. All flavours help. But more specifically, a pie graph. Researchers have determined the science behind happiness. Picture a pie graph divided into three sections: 50% of happiness is genetic, 10% is circumstances (career, wealth, age, etc.) and 40% is intent. In other words, genetics and simply CHOOSING happiness is how one actively seeks to avoid grumpiness.

In conclusion, I will tread onto your lawn long enough to say only one more thing: if you want people to get off your lawn, maybe it’s because you've seeded too much crabgrass? 

No. More.

There’s something you all should know. And by all I mostly mean some of you. Something another guy revealed to me. Something serious. Something important. Something both women and men should know. I like to call it: the truth.

It has to stop. Sure, sure, everyone’s laughed about it at one time or another but enough is enough. It. Must. Stop. The joking and discrimination is unfair and unkind and unacceptable. Everyone knows it yet the intolerance continues. The time for empathy, for understanding, for respect is NOW. This is another one of those turning points in history, a watershed moment, a milestone marker along this journey in life.

According to an article published in the National Post, scientists have proven that “men actually suffer more when they are struck down with illness because high levels of testosterone can weaken their immune response.”

Minus the science-y words this is essentially what men have been saying for years! Take that ladies.

I am not making this up. This is for realz. I bet PeterMansbridge leads with this story every morning when he looks in the mirror to shave and practice looking cool for the CBC National News. Why aren’t more people talking about this?!

Plus, scientists have also determined that men with higher levels of testosterone feel MORE PAIN when they ARE sick.

Boom.

I know eh?

So guess what? That commercial about that guy whose wife refers to him as a 200 pound baby is pure sexism sanctioned and encouraged by millions of women all over the world. Truth be told, I’ve even laughed at those “I survived man-flu like a big boy” mugs. But no more.

No more. 

Things one should never outgrow:

marveling, especially at the women in one's life.

Yes. Yes they do.

My daughter.

Not long ago I signed a petition about the Canadian $50 bill. The new polymer version of our $50 bill features a boat. The old $50 bill featured the “Famous 5,” a mostly Albertan group of women who, in 1927, started a petition to be legally recognized as “persons.” For Canadian women, this triggered tremendous status growth. By removing the Famous 5 from the $50 bill, there are, at present, no longer any Canadian women featured on Canadian currency.

HUH?

I have never understood why women must fight for equal status with men in any area: leadership, politics, careers, whatever. In those purposely blind eyes of the law both sexes should have the same rights, responsibilities and privileges, In every which way. To me that’s justice. Plus it just makes sense. Therefore, it seems like a no-brainer that there would be just as many Canadian women on our currency as Canadian men.

It’s about contribution. Don’t women contribute just as much to society as men? That question is pretty much rhetorical but in this case, I think it demands answering. And what’s the answer? YES. YES THEY DO.

Anyone who denies that is an idiot. I mean come on, ever heard of babies? Obviously that example pretty much trumps everything but let’s focus on contributions that traditionally haven’t been used to negatively stereotype women. So here’s an odd little quiz. What makes it odd? I am going to give you the answer before I ask the question: ALL OF THEM. That is the answer. What’s the question? According to Mental Floss magazine, women invented which of the following?

1. The paper bag.

2. Monopoly.

3. Windshield wipers.

4. Disposable diapers.

5. The dishwasher.

6. Alphabet blocks.

7. “Invisible” non-glare glass.

8. Signal flares.

9. The circular saw.

10. The computer.

Note number 10. Kind of a big deal, isn't it? Incidentally, the woman who invented the computer worked alongside someone else: a man. Just look what we, as equal partners, can accomplish TOGETHER. It's like George Carlin said, "men are from Earth, women are from Earth. Deal with it."

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

a closed toilet lid.

Girls: you definitely have every right to find it inconsiderate when men leave the toilet seat up. Absolutely. I don't do that. But therefore, I must insist that you never, NEVER, close the toilet lid. Why? I would like to share a story, a story with some of the details missing because, well, it's one of those stories.

Here's the thing: it's the middle of the night. Sometimes a guy needs to pee. But here's the other thing: even though he needs to pee he doesn't want to. His bed is toasty and warm and soft and if any of us had our way we'd never leave that bed. Am I right? Anyway, this means the middle-of-the-night-pee must occur as quickly as possible and in such a way that sleep is so minimally disturbed he will barely remember the trip to the toilet in the morning. I am going to say I am successfully able to do this 98% of the time. How? I don't turn on that glaring bathroom light from hell. Therefore, in this situation, I must sit to pee.

Now this in itself is an entire other post. I won't get into it much here but some guys do indeed sit to pee. In a somewhat drunken conversation with a group a guys once, certain information was revealed and then never, ever discussed again. Therefore I feel 8-out-of-9 guys confident that some other men can relate to this. On what do I base my pea-brained statistic? One of the guys in that drunken conversation said he will never, ever, ever sit to pee but the other eight, including myself, choose that option sometimes (even in the daytime). No judgment. So, if you've managed to follow my blathering here, you probably know where this is going. So let's go there (kinda). When a guy must in-the-dark, middle-of-the-night-sit-down-pee, he never expects the toilet lid to be closed. And when it is...let's just say some things should not be
a)squished
b)scrunched
c)mashed
d)compressed
e)flattened and
f'n)all of the above.

#whoa
#ouch
#seriousouch
#hardtosleepafterthat
#someonehadtosayit

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

I did something very, very stupid. Okay, not very, very stupid, just regular stupid. Plus a little bit more than that. One might call it “guy stupid.” But my heart was in the right place. Everything went wrong quite innocently.

Available here.

Here’s what I did: I bought some Christmas gifts. In September.

That’s pretty organized isn’t it? One might say exemplary time-management. I suspect that I was in the one percentile of all men who bought Christmas gifts in September of this year. Whoa. According to my pea-brain, that’s a big deal. Like maybe an on-the-news kind of big deal. Okay that’s probably idiotic but the truth is this: I will never, ever do that again.

Before I explain why, I will say that I did not do this because I’m attempting to be a reformed last-minute-shopper. I’m totally ok with last-minute shoppers but that was never really my style. I’m more of an all-at-once shopper. Mostly I like to “get it over with a few weeks before Christmas.” And by get it over with I mean I prefer to complete my entire Christmas shopping in one single day, a sort-of marathon shopfest. Yup, I’m a dreamer: this never seems to work. So this year, when I suddenly realized that I was in the perfect place to shop for some quality items that members of my family would probably appreciate, I did just that. Within fifteen minutes I bought several gifts for them without being caught, along with some decoy items for myself which would explain the bag I carried out of that gem of a store. And do you want to know how I felt? Proud. Smug even.

As the saying goes, “prideth goeth beforeth the falleth” (close enough) because here’s the thing: when I returned home I hid those purchases and now, three months later, after much searching (swearing), I have no idea, absolutely no idea where they are. Plus there’s one more glitch: I can’t quite remember what I bought so I don’t know what I’m looking for. Sheesh.

And so this is exactly why guys leave their shopping until the last minute. 

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

I'm sure there must be a very good reason why my wife put a couple of her bras on the backyard deck to, uh, sunbathe?

#butihavenoideawhatitis
#nevertellheribloggedaboutthis
#nevertell
#never
#shitwivesdo

Things that deserve the stink-eye sunglasses:

I guess the sunglasses were the icing on the cake, er the urinal cake. Kinda. But not really because there was no urinal cake. Because it was the wrong bathroom for that. Because...nevermind. Here's what happened....

I blame the whole sad creepy thing on that ophthalmologist. He dilated my eyes, peered inside my pea-brain and basically said, "What are you doing here? Most of my patients are in their 80s...there's nothing wrong with your eyes." So I simultaneously apologized and thanked him (like any good Canadian would) then returned to the waiting area where I texted my wife: "dilated and waiting." Her oh-so-compassionate reply? "Happy birthing!"

Grrr.

She couldn't pick me up for a while and hence the mayhem began. Mistake #1: I forgot to bring my sunglasses but I decided to depart anyway. And by "depart" I mean this: picture a chubby kid too tall for his age in a blindfold looking for a pinata minus the broomstick. Now picture him at the street corner walk sign trying to cross a busy intersection in the downtown core of a city. And his eyes were watering. And pedestrians seemed to be giving him a wide berth. That was me. And that's how profoundly sun-blinded I was due to the dilation.

Anyway...eventually my wife picked me up, I found my sunglasses and we went to the mall blah blah blah bought shoes, had lunch, wanted to explain to all service staff I encountered that yes indeed I was aware that I was wearing sunglasses inside the building (necessary mistake #2) but felt too awkward blah blah....

Jump to the part that's clearly mistake #3: that would be when I semi-blindly waltzed into the ladies bathroom with my sunglasses on, wondered momentarily why there were so many stalls, shrugged, tried to enter a few stalls, found an empty one, and then began feeling odd while I listened to some poor confused woman in the next stall have a one-sided conversation on her cell-phone before I suddenly (and finally) had that feeling like someone had just thrown a bucket of cold water on me...Am I in the women's bathroom? Yup. I. am. There were no urinals! HOW THE HELL DO I GET OUT OF HERE? Then I heard a woman say to another woman, "are you in the line-up?" AND NOW THERE'S A LINE-UP? I WONDER IF ANY OF THESE WOMEN ARE CARRYING MACE? I AM GOING TO JAIL!

Clearly the only one in there with balls, I decided to use them before any more panic rose in my throat, so I pushed open the door, exited the stall, walked directly down the aisle and out the door as women parted in waves. That's when this happened...you know how sometimes you have a momentary out-of-body experience when you see yourself as others see you? Well I saw myself, my inside-wearing-sunglasses-self, my suddenly very-creepy-inside-wearing-sunglasses-self. I guess I didn't look as pervy as I imagined though because those women began laughing while I proceeded directly across the hall to the men's bathroom and began banging my head on the hand-dryer.

Believe it or not, there are two kickers to this story and I kid you not:

1. My wife entered that same bathroom just moments after I began hiding in the men's bathroom. I only know this because when she met me a few minutes later she mentioned all the women in the bathroom talking and texting about some guy who used the ladies' bathroom. I then confessed. My wife then proceeded to laugh and mock me for the next hour. Why no sympathy? Let's just admit it: I've done this before. I once showered in a woman's locker-room. Seriously. Please believe me--I am not a perv, just a dipstick.

2. The very same day, a blogger friend who tells a story way better than I do DID THE SAME THING (but opposite) and she has visuals! I highly recommend you visit her similar post (Chelle at Coffee & Zombie Movies) immediately. I'm now referring to her as my awesome socially-impaired little sister.

Wordfuse

Think feebleminded but just for guys, aka what my wife's facial expression says every time I
a. can't find stuff she immediately finds right where she told me to look for it.
b. try to talk to her when she's on the phone.
c. buy clothes I don't try on.
d. all of the above and fill-in-the-blank and so on and so forth.

But you know what? Women can be quite sheebleminded.

Let's be honest.

Okay guys, just a heads up: when a group of ladies want the window open, then damn well leave the window open, or else. 

(Or else they will put up a sign and stare at you and things will just get awkward.)

#womandate
#strestrogen

33 Word Love Story

     An hour into our first date you suddenly revealed your mother died choking on peanuts. 

     I whispered, "my father was choked to death by a drug-dealer," and thought, I found you. At last.

I write non-fiction or creative non-fiction but I rarely write fiction. It's just so hard. However, the 33 word love story challenge at Trifecta just seemed like too much fun not to try. Click above and check out the other entries. Or try it.

The Oldest Trick in the E-book

When I was a kid and busy predicting (like everyone else) that we would all have super-cool flying cars in the 21^st century, I did not fathom we would have electronic books instead.

I now plug in my bedtime reading. And it’s sort of weird.

Books are a big deal to me. I've had serious relationships with some books. (Stop judging me okay?) That’s why I’m thinking that my new e-reader might be more like an awkward Junior High crush than a long-term relationship.

At first I was infatuated. She’s this tiny beauty and she’s easy to stare at for hours. In my opinion that pretty much summarizes Junior High. But then I started to worry. It’s so effortless to download new books. Let’s just say there sure are a lot of books in the virtual sea if you know what I mean. E-books may be cheaper but when the bookstore is at my fingertips, it’s alarmingly easy to impulse-buy. Cha-ching. Maybe I need to take things more slowly? Because this relationship is costing me a lot of my allowance.

She’s a bit temperamental too. I was reading a particularly absorbing scene about some musicians hiding from the Nazis in a Jazz Club during World War 2 when suddenly my e-reader had some sort of meltdown and she insisted I go recharge. That definitely killed the moment. Like any junior high relationship, emotional upheaval can strike at any time.

She also has a tendency to go on and on. Like any guy, I want to read short books. I’m not saying I don’t read long books. I do. But when I buy a new book I have to check three things: the cover, the first line, and (almost a deal-breaker) the number of pages. I prefer my books to have no more than 300 pages, max. Long books are just too much of a commitment and they’re rarely worth all the extra pages. But with my e-reader, I have no idea how many pages there are. Instead, when I press the bookmark, the e-reader indicates the percentage of the book I've read. What does 28% actually mean? 28% of how many pages?! How long is this going to go on? Again, like a Junior High relationship, I sometimes feel a little trapped and confused.

Despite these bumps in the e-road, I am still crushing on my e-reader. Why? Even though this relationship may go nowhere, I can still pull the oldest trick in the e-book:

1.      Find a comfortable spot to sit.

2.      Fake-yawn.

3.      Stretch my arm around her.

4.      Cuddle up with my e-book.

5.      And get lost in the movie she makes up inside my head. 

Christmasy things that probably deserve the stink-eye:

Dear women who make Christmas special,
Thank you.
                               Signed,
                               The men of the world who piss you off.

Crappy Shi(r)t

It's bought this beauty of a T-shirt
at the Antigonish  Highland
games in Nova Scotia and
I will never throw it out!
*Cue Braveheart music.*

Okay ladies, let’s just end this now: guys have a right to their crappy shirts. This is just part of being a guy. It probably begins as soon as we can sit up and drool like a pro. Just like babies, who says we have to move beyond shirts that we can wear all day and sleep in too (and then wear again)? Huh? Who says?!

When I was in my teens I woke one morning and my Mom was spot-washing the floor with my favourite sweat shirt. Sure it had a hole in the front. Sure the cuffs were torn. Sure it said “John Deere.” Sure it was stained. Sure it had been washed so many times it was an indeterminate colour.

Here’s the thing though: these are the very characteristics that made it perfect. And another thing: it’s hard to find a super cool comfortable shirt. So when we guys find one, why wouldn’t we keep it for nineteen years?

Recently, a woman told me about another woman (ya right) who hid her husband’s favourite shirt in the trash because he would not agree to chuck it. So she chucked it. I repeat: she chucked it without his permission. This is also known as breaking one’s marriage vows.

Anyway, unfortunately for her, garbage collection was not for two more days. Oh she claimed she had no idea where his beloved shirt went but his suspicion grew and after searching high, searching medium, and searching low, he finally checked the trash and there it was. And then he smiled. Why? It now had yet another stain. Thus it would irritate her even more.

Now guys, I’m not suggesting that we should treat our wives disrespectfully. Consider this. Once, for my wife’s birthday, I gave her a very special present. I gift-wrapped one of my shirts (the very one she most loathed) along with a pair of scissors. She immediately knew what to do. This proves we men can indeed be

a. understanding 

b. compromising 

c. civilized and 

d. adorable. 

I granted this wish. Once. See? Very reasonable. But that’s over and thus I am allowed to wear any hole-in-the-armpit-stretched-and-crumpled-like-a-calf-suckled-on-it-shirt I want. For the rest of my life. And I don’t have to wear pants either if I don’t want to. (Just sayin.)

So ladies, go ahead and buy your men spanky new replacement shirts. Dare ya. (And good luck with that.)