Phase One of operation “Take My Mind Off of Having to Go to Work on Monday” is complete as SU left great big gobs of greasy grimy gopher guts all over the Reliant Stadium turf last night, and a good time was had by all. Next up, Phase Two as the #8 Villanova Wildcats come to town for a 2:00 game this afternoon. Hopefully Syracuse will not stink the place up. The outcome means either a leisurely Sunday doing laundry, watching football, reading all the sports coverage I can find online and more or less not thinking about work on Monday, or a day of doing laundry while sulking, avoiding ESPN and every other sports outlet, and brooding over not having been wise enough to take Monday off.

I am also on Day Two (or maybe it’s more like Day 1.5, since I didn’t start until late in the day yesterday) of trying the Apple Cider Vinegar Arthritis/Gout/High BP/Diabetes/High Cholesterol/You Name It home remedy. Seriously, there are folks out there who claim it will cure damn near everything, and you can use it in just about every way imaginable – internally, topically, in a poultice – hell you can probably find people who use it in enemas. I’m going with ingesting it, and let me tell you there’s no finer way to start you morning than with a hot cup of vinegar. Yummy. Actually, it’s not that bad. A couple teaspoons of it in a cup of water with some honey. Nuke it for a couple of minutes and drink it like tea.

So far, I’d like to think it’s helping, but of course that could just be the placebo effect, so we’ll see. I remain cautiously optimistic that this will provide long-term relief from everything that ails me. Maybe I’ll even start making it myself (though I’d probably wind up drinking it while it’s still in the “hard cider” phase. Goodness knows, I live in the land-o-apples.

I normally try to avoid clicking on most of the links at the Huff Post, ‘cuz they’re usually pretty stupid and are just click bait (trying to get you to click on links to increase page views and earn themselves more money). You know, stuff like “Obama Slams Limbaugh in Epic Rant” and the story turns out to quote Obama as responding to a question about Rush Limbaugh saying something stupid and offensive with “I think that, us, those of us in the, uh, public eye, both in politics and you folks in the uh media should all be very careful about the um rhetoric we use.”

Or “Is a Killer Asteroid Coming in 2015?” And the answer turns out to be, “no.”

But sometimes I just can’t help myself, and when I saw “11 ‘Girly’ Things Men Wish They Could Do Without Judgment” I figured, OK, let’s see what girly things I would like to be doing. I have to disagree with most of these.

1. Have more stylish clothing options.

No, can’t say as I do. I try to buy everything exactly the same so I don’t have to try to figure out what to wear. Give me a baggy shirt, baggy pants, and comfortable shoes and I would be happy to wear the same thing every day to work. At home, sweats when it’s cold, shorts when it’s hot.

2. Be able to talk about other men being attractive.

If I found men attractive I wouldn’t have a problem saying so. I reckon, say, Don Draper is a good-looking guy but he doesn’t really do anything for me. And who exactly would I talk about that kinda stuff with? “Gee, honey, that Brad Pitt is one hot guy. Sure makes me look like a fat old pig, doesn’t he?”

3. Order “girly drinks.”

I like beer. In a frosted mug, if possible. No umbrellas and no sweet shit in it.

4. Get treated to a spa day.

Not really sure what that would involve. If they have beer, then I’m in. And an Epsom salts foot bath would be good. I could probably go for a massage, too. Just not by a guy, if it’s all the same to you. I’d really just as soon not have a guy lubing me up and rubbing me all over. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Actually, you know, it’d probably be best to skip the massage altogether, not that I think about it. It might not have a happy ending. Otherwise, I don’t especially want a mud pack on my face and papaya slices on my eyes or whatever else they do at those places (though if it’s free, what the hell I guess). Especially if there’s beer.

5. Carry a purse.

I’ve always prided myself on being able to carry everything I need in my pockets – wallet, keys, phone…. What else is there? Shit, I’m lucky if I can find my keys when they’re in my pocket – if I ever had to dig through a purse, I’d never get anywhere (plus I’d lose the purse). I do take a backpack to work, if that counts. Lunch, Tablet, portable hard drive, pens, paper, etc. Plus you never know when you might need to bring your work home with you, if you know what I mean. Maybe an insulated purse to carry beer in.

6. Dance like no one’s watching.

Don’t care whether anybody’s watching or not – I aint dancing. I dance in my head. Unless I drink too much, but I don’t think that’s dancing as much as it is “staggering.”

7. Wear makeup.

Now that’s just plain stupid. Why in god’s name would anybody want to wear makeup. I mean unless you’re gonna be on teevee or something. Then I can’t actually see wanting to wear it. You just don’t want to look like a shiny cadaver. Lipstick, mascara, blush, eyeliner – never understood any of that, and I’ve never met a woman who needs it. You either look good enough the way you are or no amount of makeup is gonna help anyway. Get a sack and cut a couple of eye holes in it.

8. Get pampered by women.

This is girly? Well then I’m more than happy to embrace my feminine side. Feel free to commence the pampering, ladies (and grab me a beer)!

9. Wear yoga pants.

If these are like sweats, then I’m in.

10. Have fun with one’s children without being judged.

I don’t actually have any children, but I have no problem having fun with my dogs, and I don’t give a shit who cares. So I assume it would be the same with kids (maybe even more so). And, like, who judges some guy having fun with his kids? “Look at that guy over there playing with his children! Disgusting!” I just don’t see it. Unless maybe you’re playing with somebody else’s kids (you should probably ask first).

11. Be able to show emotion without being labeled as gay or a “p*ssy.”

I assume this refers to “sad” emotions, since I don’t have a problem with laughing and being happy or “in love” or stuff (I mean, there’s obviously a time and place for everything). I will admit that I grew up in an era of “big boys don’t cry,” so I try to remain relatively stoic when bad shit happens – at least in public. It isn’t about being labeled as anything, though. I’m old enough now to not give a shit what people think. It’s more about being a private person.

Oh well, time to get back to drinking coffee.