My friend Bruce, the one who I once thought was basically me with a penis, has broken my heart today. I am not sure there is any hope left in the world after our last conversation. This guy is a man’s man. Sports, hunting, conservative, great dad, devoted husband, all those delightful things. So you will understand my devastation when I tell you how he spent his day…
He was scrap booking with his wife! For fuck’s sake! Is there no sanity left in the world?
I admit a certain pathological disdain for all things scrap book related. I will probably piss off my three female readers when I say, “Scrap booking is fucking stupid.” I am not talking about photo albums. I am not talking about books detailing the life of your child; milestones, accomplishments etc. I am talking about taking those time honored traditions and fucking putting fuu fuu paper with ribbons and little plastic sparkly thingies everywhere around them. Ugh.
The industry is brilliant really. Right up there with freakin’ pet day spas and doggie couture. In fact it is exactly like those things.
Examples: (I am going to be a bitch here… bear with me.)
Wtf is that? Is there a child in there somewhere? Probably, but who the fuck can tell because of all the fucking buttons and ribbons. (I am actually hiving up at this point.)
What a fantastic picture of a beautiful child with her toy and blanket. Imagine how amazing that would look if you could actually see the picture! This would be stunning in a really nice leather bound or handmade paper book with pretty picture corners on black paper. You would see those eyes that appear to be full of life.
I think there are actually some pictures in there somewhere. The worst thing about all this god forsaken floof? You cannot actually look at these things very often because they will fall apart if you handle them too much!
Dear God the amount of money you can drop doing this stuff! Have a look at the OCD enabling suppliers!
You womenfolk want to do this? Fine! Have at it! But for all that’s holy, leave the men out of it! The idea of Bruce using that little clipper thingie that makes the corners round makes me itch. The visual of this man using special fru fru scissors with changeable blades to get really neato edges on paper makes me want to set something on fire!
I can only sit here and hope that he did this for some sort of sexual compensation, but even then I am not sure the price was worth it. The most horrible thing of all? He said he had a good time doing it.
I am thinking about offering a reward for the return of Bruce’s balls. Seriously, if I didn’t have such great affection for this man I would have been much harder on him. For God’s sake, Bruce… next time just go shoe shopping with her and hold her purse while she tries on 80 pairs of the same shoe! At least that way you are in possession of your balls, even if they are in their new home, HER PURSE!
P.S. to Womenfolk who scrapbook: I really am not a total bitch, but you people are messing with my men, dammit.
P.P.S to Bruce: You know I love you, shit head. There is no end to the amount of shit you will hear about this. I suggest you go kill a wild boar with your bare hands to redeem your man cred…
P.P.P.S. to Reader: I invited Bruce to write a few things on this blog about 6 months ago. I am thinking this might get him motivated to defend himself. Maybe?