All right, wusses. Nothing sissified today. Behold! Today is
a celebration of all things MANLY.

And I am a MANLY MAN.

How manly? Let me count the ways. (Although this is, by no means, a comprehensive list.)


Actually, I jumped three times in succession, and the third time was the hardest. Because unlike, say, a roller coaster or some other run-of-the-mill thrill, the anticipatory fear of bungee jumping pales in comparison to the actual experience. You spend an interminable amount of time at the top of the platform trying to talk yourself into it and then, against all better judgment, you jump. And then you’re sure you’re going to die.

Then you reach the bottom and you’re yanked all the way back up again, which gives you another chance to wet yourself.

But I’m manly. So my britches stayed dry.


It was ten minutes after I met her – and before I knew her name. How manly is that?

We were at this weird, artsy poetry reading. I got up and did some bizarre Stallion Cornell rant, and she was laughing her head off. So I took the occasion to make my move, and before you knew it, we were smooching like there’s no tomorrow.

Unfortunately, there was a tomorrow, in which I took her out on a real date, where I learned her name – which I’ve forgotten – and we discovered we didn’t like each other much. She was turned off by the fact that I was a Republican, and I was turned off by the fact that she was kind of a skank.


You don’t get much more manly than that. My wife and I went in for the first ultrasound, and the nurse running the thing said “Are you in here for any special reason?”

We both panicked, thinking something was wrong. “No,” we said. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m seeing two heads,” the nurse replied.

My wife says her first thought was “Aaaargh! My baby has two heads!”


I didn’t mean to be. But when I went to the orientation meeting, there was no one else there from my daughter’s team to take the equipment, so they made me “responsible” for it. Which meant I was the de facto coach, despite the fact that soccer makes me itch.

We lost every game we played. But in a totally manly way!


There are 17 miles of coastline along northern Kauai that are completely inaccessible by land. The only way to see it is to take a motorboat (good plan) or a sea kayak (less good plan.) My wife and I kayaked together in a two-person kayak for six hours straight. It ate up two days of our vacation: one day because of the hard-slog kayaking, and one day of her not speaking to me because of all my belligerent swearing, which I thought she couldn’t hear. Apparently, she could, and she was displeased.

I’m a very manly swearer.


I’d like to say I ran a 10K race, but that’s not entirely accurate. It was the official state race on Pioneer Day through Downtown Salt Lake City, and I participated in it with my more athletically-inclined wife. I started off running with the big boys, and for about three miles, I kept pace. Then I started to cramp up. Pretty soon I was walking. I walked for about ten minutes before my wife caught up with me, which shamed me back into running. I would start walking again when I put enough distance between us, but I had to make sure I stayed ahead of my wife. I beat her by about thirty seconds.

I did OK, though! I came in 85th!

(Out of the 95 people in my age group.)

There’s more I could tell you. I eat like crap. I fart with impunity. I fear laundry. I kick things. I wear my sunglasses at night. I use duct tape. I’ve tiled my own bathrooms. I could go on and on and on. But I won’t, because it’s not the manly thing to do.

And I’m so freaking manly, it’s not even funny.

I got married in a kilt.

Lonely at the Top
How I Killed Howard Hughes

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