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…
What…the…fuck…
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.