I broke a commandment and now my manhood is taking a beating.

April 20, 2009

I stand before the All Supreme Senate (ASS) of Planet Man to offer my sincere apologies and await my punishment.

But, first, if I may, my defence: It wasn’t my fault.

Yes, I understand that is the typical Planet Man response anytime someone questions our behaviour, attitude, clothing choices or Internet bookmarks. But, in this case, it’s the truth. No, really.

You see, Viking Woman was too busy doing that whole employment thing to start in on making another batch of homemade soup. She asked if I’d kindly get off my frickin’ bum and leave my office space for one bloody minute to help her out.

I’m pretty sure there was a veiled reference in there somewhere about physical contact should I not obey and, once I ascertained said contact involved a frying pan and the back of my skull, I was only too happy to make an appearance in the kitchen.

I know this is news to the esteemed members of ASS, but when you make soup, you don’t simply throw whole veggies in a cauldron, turn on the hob and reach for the TV remote. There is actual cutting and chopping involved, which is why Viking Woman, as she headed out the door, suggested I use the food processor.

I’m not sure if the esteemed members understand the principles behind a food processor, but it involves blades. Sharp blades. Moving very fast.

I’ve seen what that blade can do to a short, stubby carrot and imagined it could just as easily do the same to my short stubby fingers. And so I decided against adding a new ingredient to the soup mix. I mean, there’s organic and then there’s cannibal.

So I read the instructions.

Gentlemen, please! Settle! I know, I know — I broke one of Planet Man’s most important tenets: Never ask.

I know the rule is designed to reinforce the notion that we’re in command at all times, lest Viking Woman and her ilk think us weak and start making demands. Like having the right to vote and other silly notions.

I know, when we open a box, we’re required to throw away the styrofoam and the cardboard and the instruction manual, and not necessarily in that order. That it doesn’t matter if our VCRs flash 12 for-freakin’-ever or the chainsaw runs backwards or the car’s brakes only work every other day.

I know all this and yet I still decided to use the printed guide to figure out how the food processor worked.

What can I say, I’m weak. On a related note, soup will be served during the break in these proceedings. I can assure you it’s yummy. Very nice consistency, if I do say so myself.

So, yes, I stand here before you to plead guilty. I have let Planet Man down and all I can is, I regret my actions. My bad. And, oh yeah, it won’t happen again. And, we’re just friends. Oops, sorry, force of habit.

I understand that I may have my official manhood membership suspended as a result of my misconduct. That’s OK. It’s a bit wrinkled and  limp at the moment, but it’s been subjected to worse beatings than this in the past and I’m sure it will bounce back from this one with its head held high.

I will also submit a formal letter of apology to ASS. Well, I would if I could just figure out how to turn on the computer. Does anyone have the instruction manu . . . oh crap.

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