I’m not posting this weekend. Seriously. Well, who knows, I might. But I’m warning you, I might not post.

Update Monday.

Let me just say, for the record, than men are manly and women need to learn this.  So seriously, women, quit asking us to do unmanly tasks like the dishes or washing our hands.  Men aren’t clean, nowhere near, we’re grungy, dirty, disgusting and overall unfit to be seen at a family dinner, but without the man it wouldn’t be a family dinner.  I mean come on, someone’s got to make that shit exciting.  Picture what a family dinner would look like without someone manly at the table.

“Gee, golly, pop.  It would sure be swell if I could go outside and play ball with the fellas after dinner.”

“Why sure you can, son.  Just remember to do your chores and homework before you leave the house!”

“Shucks dad, it’ll be dark before I get done with those.”

“Well just this once I think we can allow you to go outside and play before chores.”

Yeah, what the fuck?  Now compare that to a regular family dinner with a MAN in charge.

“Dad?  DAD?!  DAD, I’M GOING TO GO OUT AFTER SUPPER!”

“The fuck you are.  I don’t put food on this table, clothes on your back, a roof over your fucking head for you to go out and play some queer jumping jack games with that faggot neighbor kid.  He’s a peter-puffer, you know, stay away from that little fairy, you hear me?”

“Aww but da-”

“But what? Are you trying to overrun me you little weasel?  Do you think you’ve got what it takes to run this family?  HUH? DO YOU!?  Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought, just sit there and cry like life is so damned rough.  You want rough?  How about I take you to Vietnam, you know, Korea, that was fucking rough.  But you don’t see me crying, do you?  Fuck no.  Hell, I came back, built this house, married this bitch who can’t cook, then got really fucking careless on New Years and then some asshole decided he was going to win the egg race.  You think you’re fast you little shit?  Maybe you should run the fuck away from the table before I slap the tears of your face.  You sound like a water-filled carburetor, I ought to fix you the same way I fix those, hit you with a wrench 30 times then unscrew your head.  Ungrateful prick.”

This would normally continue on for about 30-45 minutes or until the child smartens up and stops breathing.  The man would then make a statement about how the child ruined his appetitve and promptly leave the table and head out.  Of course, the man in the situation is only proving how manly he is by not eating.  Men don’t need food, men can survive for years on nothing but beer and adrenaline.

But men DO NOT do the dishes.  The man’s responsibility is the maintenance of the home, accessories, vehicles, you name it.  The man fixes shit.  There ain’t no time in a man’s day to worry about the cleanliness of porcelain. 

It wasn’t our goddamned choice to use the plates, we didn’t want anything to do with making more of a mess that would be required to be cleaned, fuck that. Hell, if it were up to a man, we’d be eating off industrial strength napkins and drinking out of the carton, us men can’t be bothered with unnecessary, time consuming tasks that could have been avoided with simple planning.

Lulz.