Man-handling

I’ve had this conversation plenty of times with my assorted manly friends: please explain to me why you are constantly touching your man parts. How is it even remotely acceptable that the male species can put their hands down their pants at any given time and “re-arrange” or whatever the hell it is they are doing?  If I walked around with my hands in my bra all day… first of all I’d have to be wearing a bra, and secondly it would probably make it look like I actually have boobs, so on second thought maybe I should just try that in response to man-scratching….

ANYWAY, I finally figured it out.  Men don’t have split ends. I hate to blog about my hair more often than I need to, but let’s face it, I’ve got a headful of locks that add 5 lbs to my weight, so there are plenty of unruly ends that lead me to hours of amusement peeling them apart. I feel bad for men everywhere who can’t indulge in this really bad habit. Image

If you don’t see these and immediately want to pull them apart then I don’t believe anything you say, ever.

So, as my gift to society, I am selling my split ends to men everywhere to help them quit their pick-pocket problems. Stop playing with your balls, and start playing with my hair (after you wash your hands). You’re welcome.

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Man-handling

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