A Sport With No Fans

Speed is everything. Olympic competitors work very hard to lower their times in the races they compete in.

-track and field

Men and women athletes share the same mental aspects in these sports. No distractions. Get from point A to point B in the shortest time possible. Period. They do not compete to win a “porcelain medal”. It’s go for the gold. Second place is nothing more than the first loser.

There are lesser known athletes in the world that also compete in time trial type training and events.

To be honest, women of this sport are not very good at it. They tend to be distracted easily. Point A to Point B is eventually reached, but by the time the goal is reached the judges have gone home.

It is a men’s sport. Most of us don’t even look forward to the weekly competition. It’s not fun. The only personal reward gained is when the journey from Point A to Point B is reached in the shortest time possible. When allowed to compete our way….we always win the gold.

The sport-

“Olympic Time Trial Grocery shopping”

This event is always a chore. The weekly trek to “The WalMart Superstore” is a first class trip of epic boredom…….when it is taken with a woman. Every aisle has to be ventured down. Each shelf has to be inspected. Every shade of makeup and face stuff has to be pondered upon. Various racks of clothing are sifted through.

Butter or margarine?
Orange or grape?
Low fat or 2%?
Flavored or original?
Whole wheat or multi Grain?
Crunchy or creamy?
Frozen Pizza or Frozen Flautas?
2 ply or superply?


There is always one single saving grace to grocery shopping.

While tediously pushing the cart behind the female the ultimate distraction occurs…..

Another female will venture past and say,

” I love those shoes you are wearing! Where on Earth did you find them?”

The cart will stop and a lengthy, happy footwear conversation will ensue.

The time trial is about to begin…

Ready….tap the female on the shoulder

Set…..say, ” I’m going to allow you to indulge in your pumps versus flats controversy while I finish shopping.”


The gun has gone off. We quickly scan the items in the basket. Check.

Think back to what is in the fridge and cabinets back at the house……check.

Gentlemen…..start your engines.

The race is on. The markers on the rows of each aisle that indicate what is in each row are for men. Not women. We can look up and see what is coming up, usually 3 aisles in advance and know if anything is needed there or not. We don’t need no stinking lists. We are mental giants. If the row is crowded and weaving through is not an option, go past and come back to it on the turnaround. Mental focus and speed are gained with each item hurled into the cart.

I usually begin with the frozen food and meat section. Why? The reason is simple.

By the time my 12.48 minute, $243.63 aisle blowing, cart squealing extravaganza is completed, I can calmly return to where my wife is inevitably still talking and say,” Honey, we need to get going before your Ben and Jerry’s starts to melt.”

I push the cart to the shortest checkout lane possible and dream of standing proud as Sam Walton places the gold medal with the shopping cart on it around my neck.

Once again, it is a great day to be a man.


Man cart. That is all.


He Said/She Said

He said- we need matching couches
She said- we need a sofa and love seat combination that combines the color palette of our living room in order to bring it all together.

He said- I wanna go to dinner and see a flick.
She said- I wanna go buy something nice to wear and make reservations at that fancy French Bistro and then go see that new romantic drama with Tatum Channing. It will be our date night.

He said- I need to buy a new Skil Saw and a mitre saw.
She said- I want you to have your wood cutting thingie toys but if you get them I need to get some stuff so I can help you like a cute pink tool bag with girlie sized tools and pair of fashionable goggles cuz I need them in case you get something in my eye…they are sensitive you know.

He said- I wanna have sex
She said- I need to go to Victoria’s Secret so I can get something sexy and feel desirable for you because I might want to make love….it depends. I need to have the mood right.

He said- how was your day?
She said- oh it was busy. I woke up late and had to rush to get ready. Then I got stuck on traffic and barely made it on time. I had to go to meetings all day because you know they are so unorganized without me. Had a latte with the cutest sprinkles on it at the quaint coffee shop on Beacon St. after lunch. Then back to the office where I found out Betsy is cheating on Marvin….I just can’t believe it. Waiting for Sue to call me with the rest if the details. I just got home before you got here.

She said- How was your day?
He said- fine.

Audio Estrogen

As I have stated before, I an a music lover. On any given day I will turn on my Ipod and furiously change music selections on a whim.
Depending in the color of my “mental mood ring” the choice will be made.

-Oingo Boingo
-Sammy Hagar
-Me First and the Gimme Gimmes
-Tab Benoit
-Peter Gabriel
-Marvin Gaye
-Stevie Wonder

I once got an email from Pandora Radio that said, ” Please, we beg of you, give our servers a chance to catch up with you. We are trying to employ the personnel that actually know some of these bands you ask for. Seriously, the Supersuckers?”

My wife, on the other hand, does not have, require , or want the sheer awesomeness of music variety that I must have to sustain existence.

She relies on female empowerment music. That which I like to refer to as-


-Alanis Morrissette
-Aretha Franklin

I am not allowed to complain when “audio estrogen FM” is on. I am not allowed to turn it down. I am not allowed to make crude boobie jokes when it is on. When it is on, she is Xena, Wonder Woman, Mrs. Mom, caretaker of all, excuse giver to no one all wrapped up into one chicktastic power packed package with spiked high heels no man can bring me down attitude.

It’s almost frightening. Sexy…..but frightening.

When it comes on I give her the


she demands. If I am told to make her a sammich, then I comply. If I am asked to make a choice…..then I choose. I may choose from a distance to prevent being squashed by the estrogen hammer….but I choose none the less.

I am a man. Therefore I only know a little. What I do know is that she loves her audio estrogen and needs it to put up with the awesomeness that is me.