• 30°

Why it’s great being a man

The great outdoors is our bathroom.

Why is it so great being a man? It’s for reasons such as found in the opening sentence of this column.

We men have it great. We were God’s first-chosen human being. Yep, the big man upstairs did rather well for himself, creating a living, breathing person in his own image. His only regret was the whole rib thing, taking one from Adam and creating Eve.

But why is it so great being a man. I’m glad you asked. Please read on.

Being a man means phone conversations only last 30 seconds.

We know useful stuff about tanks and airplanes, plus we know which way to loosen a bolt. Okay, we admit we don’t know about the toilet seat thing, but that’s a whole other story.

When we go on a five day vacation, we require only one suitcase.

Our bathroom lines (when we decide to be proper and “go” indoors) are 80 percent shorter.

We are able to open our own jars.

Our old friends don’t care if we’ve lost or gained weight.

When clicking through the channels, we don’t have to stop on every shot of someone crying.

We don’t have to lug a bag of &uot;necessary&uot; items with us everywhere we go.

We go to the bathroom alone.

Our last name stays put.

We can leave a hotel room bed unmade.

We can kill our own food.

The garage is all ours.

We see the humor in &uot;Terms of Endearment.&uot;

Cleaning the toilet is optional.

We can shower and be ready in 10 minutes.

Wedding plans take care of themselves.

If someone forgets to invite us to something, they are still our friend.

Our underwear costs $7.50, for a pack of three!

None of our co-workers have the power to make us cry.

We don’t have to shave below our neck.

We don’t have to curl up next to some big, hairy guy every night.

If we’re 34 and single, no one notices, or cares for that matter.

Chocolate is just another snack.

We can quietly enjoy a car ride from the passenger seat.

We never have to worry about each other’s feelings.

Three pair of shoes are more than enough.

We can say anything and not worry about what people think.

We can whip our shirt off on a hot day and not think about it.

Car mechanics tell us the truth.

We don’t care if someone doesn’t notice our new haircut.

We can watch a game in silence for hours without our best buddy thinking, &uot;He must be mad at me.&uot;

One mood, all the time.

We can admire Clint Eastwood without having to starve ourselves to look like him.

Gray hair and wrinkles add character.

Wedding dress $2,000; Tux rental 100 bucks.

We don’t care if someone is talking behind our back.

We don’t pass on the dessert and then mooch off someone else’s.

The remote is ours!

We need not pretend we are &uot;freshening up&uot; when we go to the bathroom.

If we don’t call our buddy when we said we would, he won’t tell our friends we’ve changed.

If another guy shows up at the party in the same outfit, we become lifelong buddies.

The occasional well-rendered belch is practically expected. Those really good at belching can perform the alphabet in one long breath. We think that’s cool.

If something mechanical doesn’t work, we reserve the right to bash it with a hammer and throw it across the room, of course first uttering a few choice words.

Our idea of dinner and a movie is a six pack, a large pizza and “The Longest Yard” on DVD at home.

New shoes don’t cut, blister or mangle our feet. In other words, we buy shoes that fit.

We think the idea of punting that small, ankle-biting dog is funny.

If we retain water, it’s in a canteen.

We get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness.

And finally, we know the secret of life n flowers and Duct tape fix everything.

See ya’ll next week, if Deborah doesn’t kill me after reading this column.