Oh yeah, I'm a manly man.

Despite my hair frustrations and propensity to cry at Mastercard commercials (the little dog made it home!), I am quite the typical guy. I love boobs, sports, tools, and boobs. So, because I'm such a specimen of masculinity, I, of course, do all the ironing in our household. If you travel for work, you need to be able to iron if you want to look somewhat professional. Thankfully, my mom taught me how to iron. It only took about 3 years watching her do it for me to remember the order. Now I'm a pro.

I was ironing one of my new Ryan Seacrest shirts last night, and my wife asked me to iron a shirt for her. I was happy to do it until I actually started doing it. Women's clothing is just a bitch to iron. There are all these pleats and hems that are necessary for an attractive fit, but make it hell to lay them flat on an ironing board. I singed my thumb a few times trying to hold a bit down while ironing right next to my hand. But that's okay, because I'm a man! I'll proudly wear my iron burns as medals of honor.

To show my manly nature, and garner favor with some blogging ladies, I've changed my profile picture again. Feast your eyes, Sarcastrix and THL.

iPod: "Hanging Out With Me" by Elliott Smith.