HuffPo Just Lowered the Bar for Men Everywhere

The Huffington Post has been one of my go-to news sites since a friend first told me about the Canadian edition years ago.

This is despite the right hand column of things HuffPo thinks would interest me.

Suggestions that have amused, irritated and befuddled me…sometimes simultaneously.

I’m a 51 year old, single, male computer programmer.  Sometimes HuffPo seems to think that I’m extremely interested in what celebrity is feuding with some other celebrity,  or how to deal with menopause,  or fashion faux pas to avoid.

This column has links with outrageous click-bait headlines.  You know things like “Meet the 5 year old girl who is better at your job than you are!”

Occasionally I’ve found some of these teaser headlines mildly insulting.  Seriously…anything that involves Tim Hortons, or a moose, is automatically “THE MOST CANADIAN THING EVER!!!”.

Seriously,  everything Canadians have accomplished and a chain of coffee shops, or an animal most Canadians have never see in the wild is the most Canadian thing ever?

All that aside today I ran across a headline that I thought would lead to a touching story  (yeah, I like to read those sometimes, so STFU),  but didn’t.

huffpo1
Click to read the story

There are a lot of things that would’ve made this a great story.  But none of them apply here.

This guy’s wife wanted a weave removed.  When her husband found out what it costs ($50),  he decided to learn how to do it himself.

That’s it.

I’m not saying it’s a bad thing….what I’m saying that if doing that makes this guy “THE HUSBAND OF THE YEAR” then the Huffington Post has a pretty low opinion of men in general.

I have a friend who once spent an entire weekend shopping for the perfect computer desk for his wife, and then assembling it for her.  All because she wanted a keyboard tray, but not one of those keyboard trays you can attach to an existing desk….

He didn’t even get nominated for HUSBAND OF THE YEAR.

Seriously HuffPo,  most of your hyperbolic, feel good click bait headlines are annoying,  but this one just insulted men who support the women in their lives, not because they want to save a buck, but out of love and devotion.

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The Case of the Mysterious Loufa

Last Saturday morning, while performing my morning ablutions (which is a fancy term for washing up),  I noticed that my beloved, bedraggled loufa was in the bathroom trashcan.

This was a bit disconcerting because I was planning on taking a shower at that particular moment.

I peeked behind the shower curtain to ascertain the loufa situation.  I saw a bright pink loufa that I was pretty sure belonged to my housemate, Holly.

There was a strange, blue loufa hanging there.  An interloper, if you will, into the collection of shower related instruments, lotions and liquds. (1 of which was mine, 47 of which belong to Holly….and 1 strange loufa).

There was a very real possibility that this strange loufa was left behind by a recently departed house guest.  For the more maudlin of my readers, I’ll point out that by ‘departed’ I meant she went home, and is not “dearly departed”.

I guess I should point out that I am in no way implying that she has cooties..its just that a loufa’s sole purpose is to remove cooties…so would therefore have cooties…

I peeked out and saw that Holly’s door was closed.  She had not yet bellowed out her reminder to bring back French Toast (with maple syrup…there had better be maple syrup!) from my usual weekend breakfast trip to Romeo’s Corner Cafe,  so I presumed she was asleep.

One of the things that I have learned in my two marriages is that you should always let a sleeping woman continue doing exactly that.  No matter what…

This left me with a difficult decision.

Do I either risk infecting myself with the cooties of the aforementioned, recently departed (but very much alive) house guest…or just go through my day smelling bad.

I approached the dogs to see if my odour would repel them.  It did not.  But then I remembered that they will happily root through garbage and weren’t the best indicators of whether or not body odour had reached the level of socially inappropriateness.

I went to breakfast, and watched Nancy carefully for any indication that I was overly, and unpleasantly, fragrant.

She is a seasoned professional though, so I didn’t really trust that she would give any such indication.

I apologized for any discomfort I may have caused by way of a generous tip.

To be on the safe side, I decided to forego my usual weekend ritual of running errands and socializing,  and opted to return home to sit on the couch playing video games.

Hahaha!  Yeah,  lol,  “usual weekend ritual of running errands and socializing”…omg,  I typed that with a straight face!

I soon lost myself in trying to escape Mold Men and crazy Jack Baker in Resident Evil 7.  It can be a very tense game…made worse when Holly came downstairs looking for French Toast.  I did mention that she did not bellow a reminder?

A few hours passed before I remembered about the mystery loufa.

I started out by asking Holly if I smelt bad.

She was a bit startled by the question, and told me I in fact did not.  (In the time that I’ve known her Holly has often pointed out that I am fastidious about my personal hygiene…especially for a “big guy”).

I then asked about the strange loufa.  Explaining about how I didn’t want to get cooties, so I opted to go with ‘smell bad’.

It was with no small amount of laughter, and exasperation that she explained that she had purchased a new loufa for me (and not the house guest),  and reassured me that the loufa was in fact cootie free.

I finally felt it safe to shower, and acquaint myself with this new, strange loufa.

I found it rather large, cumbersome, and somewhat dense…and not at all like my old, bedraggled, and lamented loufa.

Oh loufa, how I miss thee…