(I wrote this in answer to the ‘A real woman’ meme that is going around.) Enjoy.
A REAL MAN always earns a 7-figure salary, has a sculpted 6-pack, drives a Porsche or at least a nice Saab, leaps out of bed at 5am every morning and runs for 20km, fights and kills a bear, skins it to wear the bearskin against the blizzard he was jogging in and then drags the carcass home to cut up for the family hot pot that night. He showers outside in the blizzard so as not to wake the kids, lights a fire and does a Bear-Grylls dance in front to defrost his fingers, and finally just before going to work he gets his lovely princess a coffee in bed.
After a long day at work fighting the Taliban he drives his rusty old Datsun200B home from the battlefield (because he has of course ‘lent’ the wife his Porsche—again), serves up the Bear-flavoured hot-pot, stops the cheeky little kids fighting over the Xbox and calls them to dinner, cleans up the chocolate milk the cheeky little rascals spilt all over the couch while fighting over the Xbox, never yells at said-cheeky-little-rascals, does the dishes, helps his kids answer their calculus homework, builds a his son’s architecture project, brushes his daughter’s hair, runs outside to bash a few more nails into the cubby-house he is building out of toothpicks and matches and band-aids, and repairs the washing machine.
Then just as he was about to read a book he remembers to paint the back veranda, massage his princess’s feet, and then stays up late after her Ladyship has gone to bed so that he can study French poetry because Real Men also have to compete with the metro-sexuals. Then he runs a security sweep against the outside world, fights off a Yowie, catches a snake between his bulging pectoral muscles and snaps its neck with an elegant twist of his manly chest, and turns inside to nap on the couch for about an hour before getting up at 5 to do it all over again.
Copy and paste this if you think might be a woman! 😉