As the first post in this category, I thought I’d set the tone with an old post from my previous blog, written back in 2010 while I was doing some work for a local gun shop.

Sensitive readers be forewarned:  I love me some innuendo, and I don’t think I’ll be pulling any punches in this post.  I’ll try to keep it to a tasteful minimum, but know that there will be references to male genitals. Fair warning.



Sounds manly, right?

Sure it does.  It was one of the marketing slogans for The Man Expo, a ridiculous trade show-esque event held at the South Town Expo Center this weekend.

Did you miss out on the Man Expo?

Well you’re in luck, because I was there representing the gun store at this pitiful sausage party.  There was everything from golf, to helicopter flight school, paintball, body building, off-road vehicles, and many more cliches.  Events included wake-boarding demonstrations, a skateboarding competition, arm-wrestling contest, bench press competition, MMA fights, rock climbing wall, Texas Hold’em tournament, a mechanical bull, taking turns beating the hell out of a car with a baseball bat, and at least a dozen other flaccid attempts to celebrate male stereotypes and mediocrity.

There was a concert the first night (which I missed, sadly) with performances by hard-rock has-beens Skid Row and White Snake.  There were Roller Derby girls skating around in their ostensibly torn fishnet stockings.  There were juiced-up, spandex-sporting body builders with biceps bigger than my head and bulging everything–wait, ALMOST everything.  Someone please tell me why, if you roided up and shrunk your junk, would you wear something that so perfectly displays your dainty little bits?  These guys prove time and again that as uncomfortable as skin-tight body suits must be to wear, they’re always less comfortable for the REST of us.

Our booth was located right at the entrance, and consisted of 3 tables in a square-ish “U” shape, where passersby could come in and fondle the two-dozen-or-so rifles, shotguns, and handguns that we brought to promote our retail store.

It was not at all unlike a petting zoo.

It looked like they were holding auditions for VH1′s Tool Academy in the same building.

There was a subtle yet undeniable odor at the show, which–I suppose–must be primarily baby oil and Axe Body Spray.  These guys didn’t make up the majority of attendees . . . probably no more than 30-40%.  But their scented everything overpowered the rest of the expo-goers.  And there really were all other types of dudes there in all their varieties, and in all levels of macho.  This includes jocks, rednecks, boat-owning fairway execs, gamer-geeks, and most of all, the Average Joe.

Which reminds me, I almost forgot to mention the Hairy Back competition.  So sorry I missed that.

Of course, what would a Man Expo be without boobies?  Yes, they hired a bunch of models to bimbo around in tight shirts and pretend not to loath all the regular dudes.

And don’t forget about the mechanical bull.  It was right across from our booth, so I got to watch many a cow-poke try his luck at getting flung around on the silly contraption.  A few were trained riders, clearly.  They’d crank up the difficulty setting well past “Squish My Posterity” and these guys would rock and roll on that thing in a spine-jarring fury.  There was also girl (whoops, I almost said “lady”) that did really well–she was one of the models promoting the show.  SHE had done this before, and she was WORKING that mechanical bull.

You should have seen the crowd that gathered; tons of guys standing on their tip-toes at full attention, trying to get a head above the guys around them to watch this gratuitously grinding . . . is “attention-whore” too strong of a word?  ‘Nuff said?

Don’t worry, I don’t have that image in my brain anymore.  Why?  Because it was scrubbed and replaced with the image of a 350-lbs drunk guy who got on the mechanical bull, took his shirt off, and rode it on the low setting for what seemed an eternity.  His slow motion display of jiggling beer belly and man boobs has ruined me for the foreseeable future.

Thanks, Man Expo.

As you can tell, I couldn’t be more thrilled to have been a part of this chest-thumping, cliche-embracing event.  I wasn’t at ALL disappointed in my gender, or my species for that matter.  What better chance to see, up close and personal, all the reasons why the earth should fall out of orbit crash into the sun.

Don’t worry, the Man Expo will be back in October.  So if you missed out last weekend, you’ll still have a chance to Get Your Man On and experience this testicle-spectacle for yourself, if you can only hold on a little longer (if you can’t, don’t worry about it . . . it happens to a lot of guys).