Metrosexuals Not Welcome

Brace yourselves, ladies.

There's a new revolution on the horizon and it has nothing to do with, well, anything, really ... (unless you go 'gooey' for machismo and a fashion sense like Frank Sinatra). What is this new movement, you ask? The 'Retro-sexual' Movement. Yep. RETROSEXUALITY.

Gone are the days of eyebrow waxing and monthly mani/pedi appointments for your well-groomed man-friend! The day of sissy-boys is officially over! There is a retro 'manly-man' revolution occuring right under our noses! The kind you would only find on an episode of MadMen.

As per a professor, who's begun 'Male Studies' classes on his campus, our society has been reprogramming its men to be less 'manly.' Speaking with a CNN correspondent yesterday, he frankly told her that drugs like Ridalin are "turning [boys] into girls."

As I sat there (casually wondering what Ridalin turns girls into), I was fairly certain that this man's idea of masculinity resembled something hairy and gorilla-like, frantically pounding it's chest whenever other hairy, gorilla-like creatures drew near ... you know, obnoxious. I have to admit, I was rather amused - I mean, it's not exactly the most original idea, but who am I to deny a revolution the kind of spotlight it deserves?! 

So, in the spirit of friendship (of the chest-beating capacity) and only slight jest, I've come up with a few 'retro-sexual' rules for the New-Age Manly-Man:

1.) 'Real' men are no longer allowed to own automatic vehicles.
      Retrosexuals drive their cars, the cars do not drive them.

2.) In the event of an altercation, the only term to be used is fisticuffs; also, 'real' mean do not start fights at any given time, they kindly invite enemies to another location (to avoid inevitable fainting spells in creatures of the female persuasion).
    

3.) If injury should occur, only slabs of meat are to be used against the skin.      
     Retrosexuals wear 'black-and-blue,' and pull it off flawlessly.

4.) Women are not permitted to speak, unless spoken to, in the presence of a 'real' man.
     Retrosexuals will not be emasculated by anyone with a vagina. Not even mother.

5.) 'Secretary' is not a real job. Secretaries are ladies 'real' mean hire to sleep with. When they're bored.  
     Retrosexuals play golf and have affairs with office workers, they do not 'work.'

6.) There is to be absolutely no 'going downtown.' Not even on special occasions. She, however, can 'go downtown' whenever she wants. Which is to say, when he wants.
     Retrosexuals do not serve you.

xx

Cloud Nine (and the Peace Corps!)

I'm sitting here, a heavy mix between cloud-nine excitement and nervous anticipation, waiting for my invitation letter from (DAH-DA-DA-DUN!) the Peace Corps. Yes, that's right! Yours truly was finally accepted!

Despite being infected with perma-grin for the last four days, I have now started stalking UPS. I'm like a bat-shit crazy girlfriend! I've spent the morning pacing back and forth, chewing my nails, and imagining all kinds of panic attack-inducing, letter-losing disasters. Every time I hear a UPS truck-like sound, I jump up and stare out the window - both hands (and an ear) pressed tightly to the glass ... because I'm certain it will help me look around corners. 

If I'm being honest, I've made about a dozen excuses to go outside (you know, to NOT check for a random UPS truck). Just for future reference, there is only so much trash you can take to the dumpster in one morning. Also, the mail will never be here before noon ... so, checking it at half-an-hour intervals from 9:30 am, on, will probably make you look like a crazy person.

Riding the high of my mini-victory on Wednesday - I am now a bundle of nerves. I find myself doubting the authenticity of my acceptance, despite having checked my application status on the P.C. website multiple times. Today is supposed to be a big day. Today I presumably learn exactly where and when I'm leaving. With the letter in my hand, I can start the excitement-turned-fear-turned-acceptance process. Today the reality sets in and I can officially go screaming down the neighborhood streets in mind-altering happiness!
This is, of course, assuming the letter shows up. I'm currently fighting the urge to call UPS and ask them when it will be here ...


For the time being, however, I am still suspended. Having finally gotten accepted, after a year-and-a-half, the impatience is kicking in. So, I will resume my stalking of UPS ... but, I promise, you will be updated as soon as I tackle that son -of-a-bitch and get my letter!
xx