Are you a real man? (females blog)

I'm sick of it, y'all! I'm sick of the saps, the smart pricks, and the pretty boys! Why is it so damn hard to find a real man? I guess I can't ask that question without first telling you what I mean.

The thing that bothers me these days is how all these fancy men out there always want the best. The best foods, the best clothes, and the best cars. I hate that ****!

I want man who drives an '87 for pickup. It has a rusted out bed which is half filled with beer cans. The ash tray is full of butts, and there's a three-legged dog tied up in the passenger seat.

The man I'm talking about buys only the cheapest coffee on the shelf. Drinks the cheapest beer in the cooler. He craves the lowest quality meats available for his dinner, (like a Hardee's Thickburger, or a big dirty Hungryman frozen dinner).

My dream man wears nothing but "No Fear" T-shirts, tighty whities that are no longer white or tight, and generic Walmart sweatpants, the ass of which are in a perpetual state of moistness.

I sure as **** don't want no indoor man! I want a man who works outside! Dead skin should be peeling from his pink shoulders at least 7 months out of the year. He should spend the whole day on a roof, talking to Mexican laborers about big titty blonds. And when he comes home from being barked at all day by his foreman, I want him angry and stinking like a grizzly bear's dingy musk sack!

When it comes to looks, you can forget those fine, ladylike features that you see on the male actors and models of today. I want a butt ugly pig man! For starters, he should have a huge overbite, along with a good-sized underbite. I want his head bald, his neck covered in razor burns, and every other inch of him to be swarthy with thick, matted hair! I want greasy, leathery shoulder blades that stick out to next week! And uneven, gnarly, razor-sharp fingernails that are packed with pork rind crumbs, and reek of WD-40. I promise myself now that I will settle for nothing less than a big old pair of rotten feet that stink worse than day-old boiled chitterlings.

I think y'all are getting the picture! So all you pink polo wearing sissies, with your straight-razor haircuts and your boxer-briefs can save your fresh, minty breath! When my next man comes along, he'll be draggin' his nuckles and luggin' his hunched back right into my heart!