Testosterone

I needed a change.

I interact with women all day. My boss is a woman, most of my co-workers are women, my best friends locally are women, I ski with women, and I date women. I drive a mini-van. I own a bichon frise. I'm polite, empathetic, politically correct, and refrain from loud belching. I recycle, keep a clean house, and watch American Idol.

A couple of weeks ago, I looked in the mirror and wondered if I should be moisturizing when I realized that an immediate trip to Utah was necessary to keep me from adding "Dancing With the Stars" to my list of must see TV.

I didn't head to Utah because I thought it was a particularly virile state. I went to visit my friends, who despite being active in their church and local government and appearing to be responsible family men, will still giggle when they fart.

It was just what I needed.

We talked of zoning laws, death penalties, proper sidewalk construction, neutering sex offenders, basketball, dogs, 401Ks, and guns. We worried and bragged about our kids, and towed a Ford out of the mud. We went to a sports bar and watched Olympics and basketball. We insulted each other and nobody cried. We even went to Cabelas, the mansion of manliness, and shopped for sleeping bags, water filters, camp stoves, and guns. I held rifles, pistols and shot guns and was having a nice time until Todd told them I was a Democrat and they asked me to leave.

And we shot guns...

I believe in sensible gun control laws and I believe that some people have crossed the line of sanity on the subject, but I have to admit that it feels good to watch clay targets explode when you shoot them. BOOM! It feels...well it feels...manly! BOOM! with every shot, I could picture myself protecting my family from the zombie hordes trying to get into my house. BOOM! Everytime I pulled the trigger I felt a little dose of testosterone enter my body. It feels good...

I think I can hold off Dancing With the Stars for another season.

Thanks Todd and Troy!