Grocery Bags

I ain’t going out like that.

Grocery shopping has never been a manly experience.  Other than knocking on a couple melons, there’s very little to a supermarket trip that preserves any masculine mystique.

My city has banned plastic grocery bags.  We want to befriend the environment.  Either pay $0.10 to pack up deodorant and beef jerky in paper bags guaranteed to tear apart halfway toward the front door, or pony up $3.00 for an eco-friendly reusable burlap sack.

I’m pro Earth and all…but…

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What…the…fuck…

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I will strangle a dolphin with plastic six-pack soda rings before I’m caught dead putting my Rogaine in a baby blue tote that waves bye to tummy aches.  I will eat that stork before I prance in public holding that damn maternity grocery bag.  Jesus, I  just want to be a man once in a while.

Stop decorating in man repellant.  I thought you wanted me to contribute more with the household chores.  As a real man, I honestly don’t mind picking up your two-ply, super absorbent, extra-strength tampons and coincidental sack of Hershey’s kisses.  It doesn’t bother me in the least.  I’ll do anything for you as long as I can still be a man.

How about you give me a man-bag?

Give me a bag made from kevlar.  Stitch the seams with barbed wire and top it off with brass-knuckle handles.  Hell, throw in some carbon fiber for some extra horsepower.  Just make sure it’s the size of a public school garbage bag because I’m only making one trip carrying the loot into the house.

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