So yesterday I took a little drive up to spend the day with my editor Heather and her friends, to celebrate her birthday. Her theme? "It's My Party and I'll Crop if I Want To."
Yep, not very macho of me but I went to spend the day cropping with a bunch of...girls...
Macho, macho man...I want to be a macho man!
Okay, I'm telling you this in case photos were taken and they wind up on MySpace. Those gals all had cell phones on hand with incriminating photos of other events...why not me, cropping?
True, I was lured up north with the prospect of coffee and donuts. I'm a foodie. Whaddya want from me? Anybody who knows me knows I can be bought with a cheap piece of pastry.
So I arrived and I gave Heather her gift and I asked what her hubby gave her for her birthday. I'm a atypical bloke with female friends. Always ready to kick a man's ass for not looking after my gals...
"A schtup," she said, looking blissful.
I'm sooooo glad I asked.
Every man wants to be a macho macho man,to have the kind of body, always in demand...
Oops...maybe eating Boston creme donuts isn't exactly the way to go...but it was screaming my name....so was the pizza....mmmm....pizza....
You can tell a macho, he has a funky walk his western shirts and leather, always look so boss...
Yep, okay, I didn't look so macho carefully cutting out papers for my Paradise Found scrapbook, but I was thinking macho thoughts.
That counts, doesn't it?
I threw myself into cropping, marveling at the amazing gadgets Heather, Rosie and Julie had...I mean, big, amazing macho gadgets. A big cutting tool called a cricket, punching tools in leather boxes - that was called a Silent Setter...they all had stuff. Big, important, impressive looking stuff. And I wanted it!
I've got to be a macho!
Heather's son Riley came home from school at 2pm. He glanced at me. "AJ, are you....cropping?"
"Yes," I muttered weakly.
He brought out all his macho toys. His light sabers and stuff. Then we settled down to play a macho game of Tick Tack Toe...but I kept beating him and he got bored. His sister and a little friend of the theirs arrived and Heather told them all to play in the yard.
I noticed the girls ganged up on Riley with the light sabers and he dutifully lay down dead on the grass as a noisy blue jay hopped around and around, pissed at all this macho activity.
I glanced back out and Riley was still lying on his back, still playing the game as the girls held hands and skipped inside the house, leaving him alone out there.
Every man ought to be a macho macho man,To live a life of freedom, machos make a stand...
Poor Riley. I was about to remark about how badly we men were being treated in this house when author Samantha Gail's birthday package arrived for Heather. Godiva chocolates. Hard to be huffy when your quaffing chocolates...