Man Day

Valentine's Day, Anniversaries, Sweetest Day (by the way, what a-hole jewelry dealer thought THAT useless day up), well..pretty much every major or personal holiday basically amounts to little more than a test to see if the guy in the relationship is paying attention. Did you get flowers? Did you remember that forty years ago, we made out for the first time on a Wednesday at 8p.m. in the back seat of your car in Idyllwild? Did you get me the ring I saw and briefly mentioned eleven months ago while the jewelry store was being robbed and we were hiding on the floor behind the bathroom stall? That's right. That's what guys deal with at every passing "holiday." Well...for one glorious day every year, we guys have a holiday. ONE day out of 365 that we get to have it our way.

Christmas? Nah.
St.Patty's Day? Nope.
Easter? Sorry..
Kwanza? Not that either.


It's SUPER BOWL SUNDAY. Now, for most cyclists, it's a non-event. Something about cyclists' "lone wolf" mentality allows them the ability to forego watching organized sports like baseball..oh wait, I said SPORTS..baseball doesn't count... ok, football, etc. However, every MAN gets the benefit of that ONE DAY by default. It's a birthright. It's all we have. So yesterday was my Man Day. It was glorious. I drank a great deal of beer (which Lyd bought), ate a fat-ass steak hot off the grill (Lyd had it all ready to go), and I was left to watch the game in it's entirety, regardless of the needs of the child. Lyd distracted him for three hours while I had my Man Day. Then, at midnight..the finale. Don't ask me for photos you a-holes, because it's not happening. It was a wonderful day, and one that I shall not see again for many moons....nor shall I forget....

...sweet merciful Man Day.