An Homage To My Male Audience

In an intentional effort to beef up my male readership, the following blog content will include a healthy dose of testosterone.  So, find a spot on the couch, pop that top button and let your belly rush over the waist of your pants, put down that remote, burp up your meat n' taters dinner, and speed through my blog while you check the latest basketball scores.

So, for dinner tonight I ate meatloaf.  It was HALF beef . . . I'll leave out the part where you learn the other half hailed from a gobbling bird.  While I was clipping coupons, I found some for 100% beef hot dogs -- Angus beef, in fact.  I cut them for my pile.  An ad for Papa John's pizza caught my eye (insert sausage, pepperoni, extra cheese, and heartburn here).  I added that to my collection, too.  My mother-in-law is planning a few classic homemade meals, including tortillas and green chili, chunks of pork floating throughout, not to mention homemade cinnamon rolls oozing buttery filling and sugary frosting.  Earlier today we discussed the merits of t-bone and ribeye steaks (ribeyes are my favorite cute, marbleized and caramelized).  We both agreed that nothing beats a tri-tip resting in its own juices after a spin on the grill.  Which brings back memories of those outstanding pork butts that my neighbor, Ken, and I smoked on the back porch for my husband's 40th birthday bash.  That meat was falling apart with porky smoky goodness, the juice and fat running down our fingers and requiring a good sopping.

I'm a blond now.  A platinum blond.  What my neighbor refers to as trailer-trash blond.  They say blonds have more fun.  That should hit just about any minute.  Maybe after I ingest a bit more red meat or barbecued pork.  Would smoked wings count?  I'm a huge fan of Slick Pigs smoked wings.  Mm, I'm thinking about that tangy blue cheese dressing, generous hunks of said pungent dairy product begging to be picked up in the poultry embrace!  But I digress.  We were discussing blonds.  Catch my latest profile picture.  I'll be one for another few days or so.  And, I also have a tattoo.  You know what they say about girls with tattoos, don't you?  Do you?  If you do, would you tell me?  Because I just think, "Hey, there's a girl with a tattoo," and move on.  I think leathers and a Harley, not to mention an expanded 'upper deck,' might be required to qualify for any type of bad girl status.  And, I'm still trying to have more fun in the next few days before returning to a bland brunette.  Does closet organization rate on the fun scale?  If so, I'm already there!  (I just mentioned Meagan Fox to my daughter's boyfriend, and he came as close to melting as a man can come while sitting at a kitchen table playing spades with country music blaring from the television behind him.  Did you know she's technically a brunette though her hair is black?  Though I'm guessing most men couldn't tell me the color of her hair.)

Um, I know there's a major professional basketball shootout going on.  The playoffs.  It's between two teams and will require seven games to determine the victor.  Last night may have been game three or maybe four.  My teenage daughter is rooting for one of the teams and has a strong dislike for the opposing team.  I'd love to say I remember the names of the hoopsters . . . is it Detroit and Los Angeles?  (Okay, I was close.  Sarah says it's the Lakers and the Celtics.  THAT would be Boston, Gloria!)  This all involves free throws and centers and Kobe Bryant.  And vast amounts of back-and-forth running followed by copious amounts of sweat being soaked up by long jerseys.  Celebrities are often in attendance and sprinkled throughout the audience.  Spike Lee and Jack Nicholson come to mind.  I like their work.  Perhaps I should watch basketball -- I might catch a glimpse of them.  That would be pretty cool.

But I've wandered yet again.

Let's try this again.  Football, golf, tennis, baseball, track and field, cross country, MMA fighting, wrestling, NASCAR, Siegel basketball -- inserted by my high schooler -- swimming, high diving, polo, soccer, cricket, lacrosse, bowling, cycling, ultimate frisbee, curling, gymnastics, figure skating, horseback riding, skateboarding, surfing, speed skating, badminton, four-square, kickball, dodgeball, horeshoes, darts, poker, beer pong, sky diving, Rocky Mountain climbing, bull riding, pool, mutton busting, cork, fishing (this includes lake, river, deep sea, and fly), scuba diving, competitive eating, speed boating, hiking, para sailing, hang gliding, motor biking, oh, and let's not forget BEACH VOLLEYBALL!

Well, I'm exhausted.  It's rough work trying to woo a masculine fan base.  My stomach hurts from all the talk of cholesterol products.  I need a mineral water.  My muscles are a bit stretched from all the sports action (though I do execute a very mean push-up and NOT on my knees, thank you very much).  We've got a tube of Icy-Hot around here somewhere.  I apologize for any of you sensitive males out there who are offended by my depiction of men and their likes.  If your feelings were hurt in ANY way . . .

. . . than YOU should be reading my blog on a regular basis!  I'm outta here.  There's a beer, micro-brew, with a name like Fat Tire, Amber Wheat, or Purple Haze, perhaps even R-O-O-T, with my name on it.  I'm not a fan of Budweiser or Coors.  And, I prefer bottle over can.  And, one as opposed to six.  Sorry!  But I can't have it until next week, because I ate like a big guy during my vacation.  Gotta go pop MY top button.