Today, I’m getting personal with The Sisterwives

image Many of you are probably familiar with the logo to my right.

Hold on — You’re right! It’s my left!

Uh… Right?

Anyway, in terms of being a beacon representing truth and justice, not to mention insightful writing and humor sharp enough to split an atom (I came close to splitting a Twinkie once, just saying), The Sisterwives logo is like the Bat Signal of the blog-o-sphere. Unlike Batman, however, The Sisterwives aren’t vigilantes. No. They team up and collaborate with others.

They’re also a lot more curvy than Batman. I’m also betting the nippled Batsuit has nothing on this group.

But I digress.

Today, I’m joining fellow male bloggers Art and Matticus as guests at The Sisterwives for this month’s edition of The Man(di) Cave (similar to the Bat Cave but with curtains and carpeting), when each of us answers three questions offering a male perspective on the female gender. Keep in mind that if the actual Bat Signal appears at any time, our answers were indeed incorrect.

So please join Matticus, Art and me at The Sisterwives HERE.

Because I don’t think even Batman would be willing to come save us…

Men, show your love this Valentine’s Day by looking foolish

(As I mentioned Friday, I’m a guest at The Sisterwives today, where I’ve been asked to provide a man’s perspective on Valentine’s Day because — not to brag — but I’ve been called “a master of romance.” Or so I’ve been told while standing in front of my mirror…)

image Since the dawn of time, man has feared Valentine’s Day. I’m a journalist, so you can trust my facts on this. And because I’m a man, you can also trust me when I tell you our fear isn’t because we don’t want to express feelings of love and romance; it’s because we are afraid of looking stupid while doing so.

This fear has been documented as far back as prehistoric times, in a pair of cave drawings paleontologists say depicts a caveman named “Glork” trying to court a cavewoman.

Image one: To demonstrate his masculinity and win a cavewoman’s affections, Glork fights a saber-toothed lion

Image two: Glork is eaten

Millions of years later, though the risk of being eaten by a large predator is relatively low (not counting cougar attacks), men still fear that their attempt to express love could lead to a fate worse than death: Embarrassment. (continue reading at Sisterwives!)

Sounding off about romance with The Sisterwives

imageWhen The Sisterwives ask if you’d like to be a guest on their amazing blog, the answer is always:

“Oh yes… Yesss… YESSSSS!

Not necessarily in that order.

So when the lovely Samara offered a chance to represent the male point of view regarding Valentine’s Day and romance, I saw it as an opportiunity to open a real dialogue between men and women. Something that could have a lasting impact. Something that could bring the sexes closer together through mutual understanding!

And something that wouldn’t be doomed to failure because we, as men, can’t stop staring at their boobs.

So, continuing the newly-established tradition of offering an audio preview of Monday’s upcoming post, I am including it here. Keep in mind the newspaper version is a bit tamer than what will appear on The Sisterwives, which mentions naked midgets and “Free Mustache Rides” t-shirts. Again, not necessarily in that order. Continue reading

Join me and some other guys for a rant — Sisterwives style

image It isn’t often I’m asked to talk about what bugs me. In fact, the last time someone asked me that question it cost me $150 an hour for them to listen. And I’m pretty sure I heard snoring, although I was told it was not, but was in fact my own repressed anger toward espresso machines manifesting itself.

Whatever.

So when the talented ladies at The Sisterwives said I could tell them what bugs me for free, I immediately launched into a long-winded rant covering everything from incontinence commercials while I’m eating, to people who use an entire parking space for their tiny Smart cars when they could easily park them in a SHOPPING CART CORRAL! After listing to me spew on for a while, Beth at The Sisterwives politely said, “This isn’t actually a therapy session, so I’ll need you to write that down please.” Continue reading