Drawing the Line at Guyliner

I like to fancy myself a manly, red-meat-eating, beer-and-bourbon-drinking, flag-waiving, cigar-smoking, gun-toting, red-blooded American male.

The truth is, although steak is preferred, I also like sushi. The older I get, the more bloated I feel from beer and I enjoy a nice glass of red or even white from time to time. I do have a flag, and it is out most days. I rarely ever smoke pipes or cigars and when I do, I usually regret it the next morning. I have never owned a gun and if my wife has anything to say about it, I never will.

I know my way around a kitchen, I am perfectly capable of dressing myself for any occasion, I enjoy gardening and (aside from the food at the ballparks) have little or no interest in professional sports. I have even had assistants from the “younger set” (unfairly, I think) classify me as the dreaded “metro-sexual” because they confuse having a wide array of interests and a diverse knowledge base as somehow being less-than-manly (I was once classified even more “progressively” when I was able to correctly identify all the flowers in a bouquet one of the gals had received at the office).

So there it is – I am a guy. Maybe not a “manly-man” but your basic, moderately educated, intellectually curious, dude.

I say all that to lay the groundwork for this: NO GUYLINER. No. Just say no. Don’t do it. Baaaaad.

Key graphs from the Washington Post:

“The guru of guyliner is Mr. Ashlee Simpson, a.k.a. Pete Wentz, the bassist for Fall Out Boy, who created a video for People.com on how to apply the stuff properly. . .

“Dustin Schaad, a 22-year-old assistant buyer for a men's clothing store, doesn't leave his Silver Spring home without applying guyliner. He started wearing makeup in high school because "a little concealer goes a long way when you hit puberty," he says. . .

“It almost always starts with the concealer. The skin-colored glop is the gateway drug of men's cosmetics. But don't call it makeup. . .

“When straight men shop for eyeliner, they tend to choose a subtle brown instead of black, then grab for the nearest cotton ball. .
.

"’Here's the deal: Boys' clothes are so boring,’ says Lomon, 23. ‘In the end, you're going to wear a T-shirt or a button-down. So you have to do what you can.’”

Just say “NO”:

“No” to makeup. “No” to hair color. “No” to transplanting hair like rows of corn in the back 40. “No” to comb-overs. If you must use gel or whatever, keep it to a minimum. Same goes for jewelry. “No” to skirts. And take it easy on the strappy Italian sandel-shoes there “mon-ami” (I know that’s French – not Italian – but the “Metro-ness” of knowing that fact is sufficiently countered by the fact that I used French to refer to an Italian product and I don’t care . . . maybe I should just stop there . . . first rule of holes and all . . .)

I say if it wrinkles, turns gray or falls out – let it.

NO TO GUYLINER.

**Please Note: All rules fore-mentioned are suspended on your behalf if you are the one paying for the beer . . .**

Doesn’t mean I’m Metro – it means I celebrate tolerance and diversity . . . with free beer . . .

One has to have priorities . . . and beer . . .