So I'm subscribed to Mancouch. Right. And I read the site a lot. They have this recurring entry, "are you mancouch worthy?" which invites readers to send in their own content or nominate that of others to be featured. Great.

...but I'm concerned that a lot of the entries they have probably aren't mancouch worthy. Not because of the nature of the posts, but rather the characteristics of those who write them. For instance; it welcomes input from females. Really now? Thats not very manly. Obviously their welcome to clean the couch, but there's a no sitting on it rule in my book.         

See, if you ask me the people who run mancouch are letting the male race down. We need stricter criteria on who is deemed "mancouch worthy", and not just accept any old sort. Therefore I propose: 

To be mancouch worthy you must;

...have made a fire

...lit a fire

...poked said fire with a stick

...make your own sandwiches if you live with your Mum, but;

...have your partner make your sandwiches if you live with her

...have the sandwiches cut rectangular. Triangular is how school kids have them.

...not of been picked last in sport's practice when deciding teams

...never touched other guys. Except with force.

...own a BBQ

...burned food on said BBQ

...possess lots of tools (it's not necesarry to know what to do with them)

...be able to remove the lid from jars

...never send text messages to other males

...understand that phone calls with other men do not exceed one minute

...drive-byed people with a waterpistol

...have sprayed your arms with deodarant and then lit them at least once whilst you were growing up

...make certain that no-one but you can read your handwriting

...never make lists

...have no more than two pairs of shoes

...yell at the TV

...be able to grow facial hair

...not own any pyjamas.

...have made something out of wood

...got on all fours behind someone and then had a friend push them over you

...be in the habit of tipping female bartenders twice as much as you do male

...jacked off in the last two hours

...never initiate conversation with the female race whilst watching sports

...at least once forgotten Valentines Day, her birthday, and your anniversary (all three are required, and purposefully forgetting counts)

...not have have a Xanga. Because thats for pussies.

Sorted.

Signed:

A man that makes lists.

ps. Feel free too add other 'manly' suggestions.

Living in London was quite exciting.

Admitedly not as exciting as xanga drama. But more exciting than identifying the disparities between the English and US versions of Harry Potter, like some people do.

However the location I lived in was odd. A bit stranger on the strange scale than that time I came last when playing twister with my wheelchair bound and blind friend; which was about six elephants worth of strangeness. 

Three doors to the left of mine was a strip club, where the bouncers knew me by face and would say 'hello' (purely because I walked by it so often. Honest). "Hi." This felt good when I was with friends. Although when my parents came to visit the novelty wasn't so great and I had some explaining to do.   

Next to that we had a bookstore. "Great I love reading." However, this was full of books with pictures. But not the kind of picture books for children, or those with revelife accounts. Hanging from it's window was a sign which read 'we now sell poppers.' Cheers mate, useful. I figured this was perhaps a sign of the times during the current economic climate with the owner needing to diversify, and I came to the conclusion that maybe his entreprenuarial attitude should be championed and used as an example to all other small businesses. Plus, the world could do with more poppers. 

Best of all though was the largest shop for transvestites and transexuals "on earth". Wohoo. This was four to the right, just past a 'video shop' and a 'massage parlour' (neither of which were the conventional types and need explaining, except for children and those with revelife accounts). The best part of this store though was it's window advertisement which had a "before" and "after" picture alongside the banner "this could be you." Oh boy, now you've got me thinking.    

And speaking of transvestites (which is a sentence you don't say every day) my housemate and I found it quite hilarious when we came across "transexual domination chat" on the internet history of a laptop belonging to a random guy that lived with us. And yes, for research purposes we did click the link.           

I think though, the personal highlight was the 1am stabbing on our doorstep. Which was amazing because there was blood, a big street fight, police cars, riot vans, ambulances and the like. Just like in the movies. I could have done with some popcorn whilst watching it unfold. The following day I wasn't able to leave my house as the area had become was a taped off as a designated crime scene. Which was the best excuse I've ever had to not go to work. And I can say that because the guy that was stabbed survived. Although, if he had died I probably would of said it anyway. 

So. That was London. Or at least, where I stayed. 

Whats it like where you live?