I'll Pot Yer' Gut!

Sometimes, I don't understand people.
Such as: my brothers, father and every other man that was ever born throughout the ions of time.

Oh, and Michael Jackson.
But that's beside the point.

This confusion is usually wide-spread but the most recent puzzlement revolves around boys and their guns. For instance, last week I updated my Facebook status. It read:

"Corin Haymore doesn't think men understand the ecstasy that comes from buying a new purse and then transitioning all of the essentials from the old to the new. Well... MOST men... :P But let's not go there."

This, of course, was in reference to males (hopefully few in number) who have no qualms with flaunting their femininity. Which reminds me of this: (skip to about 6:20 or so.)



It takes a very secure man to walk like that.

And thus, when the first comment (made by a 'real' man, of course) came less than three minutes later, it naturally referenced ammunition.

"Sure we do!" it exclaimed, "We feel the same thing when we shoot stuff with high powered or automatic weapons."

Soon came the addition, "You don't have to be a man to have fun shootin' stuff."

"Somehow," I ventured, "We've gone off topic..."

See what I mean?
What is this obsession with weaponry?

Literally two days later, an unusually small portion of the fam' (yet still massive by some accounts) was splayed across various couches in living room, softly moaning after the evening's meal. Inevitably, killing woodland critters came up.

"When we gonna go out n' shoot some potguts?", my Dad offered, then proceeded to relate a story  of a magical place where you can sit atop a hill, lazily perched in the shade, and 'pop' ground squirrels by the dozens. A veritable real life whack-a-mole.

No respect for the sanctity of life, I tell ya.

"I'll never understand why boys take so much pleasure in killing completely innocent creatures.", I muttered to Candy, who was conveniently seated next to me.

Unfortunately, somehow my dad overheard this remark.

"Do you KNOW how many of those things are out there?!!" he demanded intently, "Overpopulation is a real problem, which we will only be helping."

"Likely excuse." I objected, eyes rolling.

Suddenly, the room exploded in a flurry of heated debate.

"What?!!" I charged, "You can't tell me that every time you want to shoot something, suddenly those animals are part of some over-population crisis that must be solved by a bunch of hill-billies with rifles. Do you have any proof that such a scientific measure has been taken to even calculate their numbers?"

The conversation proceeded swiftly, during which, all of the pro-hunters tried to convince me of their deportment.

"I just don't think it's right to kill something, that you don't mean to eat, all for the sake of 'fun'.", I added decidedly.

"Oh, so then you've never ever swatted a fly in your entire life?", they jeered.

"That isn't even close to what I mean," I shot back, "and that is the worst argument I've ever heard!"

Naturally, being Haymore men, this was interpreted to mean they had won the conversation. Thus, they began settling back into the furniture, smiling smugly. Poor deluded souls.

How are we even related?

Why can't they channel their energies towards more creative endeavors. Like me, see?

My boss wasted no time before pointing out the clear contradiction in my creation. She wondered why he appears 'happy' when the quote clearly states that a 'perfect summer day' includes a broken lawn mower.

"Buh-I-dunno?..." I answered exasperatingly, "He's an optimistic appliance?"

I love Utah. Where else can you jam-pack the month of July with fireworks from the 4th all the way to the 24th?

I like the purple and white ones best. In case you were wondering.

That's another thing. Why are men so entranced by fire and explosions? This cannot be good for the public health/safety.

I'm beginning to re-think this logic...
Obviously the testosterone around here has a mind of its own.