Man Purses or “Murses”

IMG_2523Last week I wrote a post called Manscaping, which discussed male grooming habits. Becoming hairless is apparently quite the fashion trend in the U.S. these days. I don’t know if this is actually true, but I heard from a reliable source (Jimmy Kimmel) that 76% of American adults have removed most of their body hair below the neck. I’m one of the 24% who does not. And I happen to have a significant volume of body hair below my neck.

Anyway, a blogger, “Busy Mom,” commented on that post, I would love to hear your thoughts on the “murse” or should I say, “man purse.” I told Busy Mom that I’m not a fan of man purses and that I would gladly pick up the gauntlet she threw down.

And so I started crafting a post explaining why I don’t like man purses. Or, for that matter, fanny packs. But I was having trouble getting things rolling. I was struggling to find the right words to describe what it is that I don’t like about man purses.

And that’s when it occurred to me that no one really cares whether I am or am not a fan of the “murse.” It’s just a personal opinion, an individual preference. I don’t possess any special knowledge or insights beyond knowing what I like and what I don’t like.

Besides, I am a “live and let live” kind of a guy. You do your thing and I’ll do mine. As long as you’re not hurting yourself or anyone around you, or are attempting to impose your will upon others, I’m fine. So if you’re the kind of man who is comfortable wearing a man purse, hey, whatever floats your boat, right?

Furthermore, I’m not an expert in men’s fashion accessories. Not even close. In fact, given my preference for comfort over style, I may be the least qualified person to discuss that topic. Hell, if I could, I’d wear my soft, comfy pajamas 24/7.

So with these caveats noted, I have decided to not proceed with writing a post explaining that men who carry man purses look pompous and prissy or that men who wear fanny packs, particularly in front — where they should be called “belly packs” — look ridiculous.

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Solitary Man

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I’ve written several posts lately that are based upon songs I’d grown up with. When I saw today’s one-word prompt, “solitary,” I was reminded of yet another such song, Neil Diamond’s “Solitary Man.” The refrain of that song goes:

Don’t know that I will but until I can find me
A girl who’ll stay and won’t play games behind me
I’ll be what I am
A solitary man
Solitary man

I didn’t get married until I was 32, which, back in the day, was considered to be old.

But then I met a girl who I knew would stay and not play games behind me. We married. I am no longer a solitary man.

The Property Brothers

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“It’s too tiny,” Maggie insisted.

“What is?” Saul asked.

“Oh my god,” she answered. “Open your eyes. There’s barely room in there for one person at a time.”

Saul looked at the partially opened door to their master bathroom. “It’s functional.”

“That’s not a master bathroom,” Maggie countered. “It’s a small closet with plumbing.”

“It is what it is and it does what it’s supposed to do,” Saul said.

“Fine,” said Maggie. “I’m calling up those guys from HGTV. You know, those two guys who fix houses.”

“You mean The Property Bothers?” Saul chuckled. “Good luck with that!”

(98 words)


Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers challenge from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

WTF, Republicans?

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According to a new CBS poll, 67 percent of Republicans approve of the way Trump is handling the Charlottesville aftermath, while 82 percent of Democrats disapproved. Still, a majority of Americans — 55 percent — did not like Trump’s post-attack reactions.

The poll was conducted from August 14 to 16. That means Trump’s infamous press conference on August 15, where he morally equated neo-Nazis to counter protesters on the left occurred in the middle of the polling.

Seriously, Republicans. What the fuck is wrong with you that two-thirds of you don’t have a problem with the buffoon who occupies the Oval Office? He is the laughing stock of the world. He is slowly destroying democracy in our country.

Do you really want the Republican Party to become the American Nazi Party? Have you no conscience? Have you no decency? Have you no shame?

Both Sides Now

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“Look at the one on the right. It looks like a flag about to unfurl,” said Jenny, pointing toward the sky. She and her best friend Liz were taking a much needed break from their hike through the scenic, rocky terrain.

“It reminds me of that whirling Tasmanian devil cartoon character,” said Liz. “The one to its left looks like a firework after it exploded and the breeze has picked up the residual and is starting to blow it away.”

Staring at these clouds brings to mind that old Joni Mitchell song,” said Jenny. “Damn, I can’t think of the name of that song.”

“It’s ‘Both Sides Now’ I think,” Liz responded.

“Oh right,” Jenny said. The lyrics talk about looking at clouds.

Liz said, “Yes, I know.” She then softly sang some of the lyrics from the song.

Rows and flows of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I’ve looked at clouds that way

I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
It’s cloud’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know clouds at all

“That’s beautiful,” said.

Both women sat in silence for a while, marveling at the ever-changing, wispy cloud formations as they traversed the skyscape.


Written for today’s one-word prompt, “unfurl,” and for this week’s writing challenge from Sue Vincent for #writephoto. It’s a twofer!

And, as a bonus, here’s Joni’s song.

Storytime — How We Met

Last week I tried my hand at starting a new writing prompt. I wasn’t certain that anyone — besides me — would join in on the fun, but five other bloggers participated, which, for a brand new prompt, was a decent turnout.

The idea is that each Thursday I will ask you to tell a story about a specific topic. You can write about the actual event as it happened in real life, or you can create a fictional telling of that event. It’s your call. There are no rules. Your post can be as long or as short as you want. Prose, poetry, whatever.

Once you publish your post, create a pingback to this post, or paste a link to your post in a reply if you’re not on WordPress.

This week’s prompt:

Tell the story about how you met your significant other.

You can write about your current spouse, girlfriend, or boyfriend. Or you can write about a previous relationship if that works better for you. And if you don’t currently have a significant other, write about how you might envision meeting that person.

To get you started, here’s my story.


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Math was never my strong suit in school. Unfortunately, a course in advanced business statistics stood in the way between me and my bachelors degree and midway through the semester, I was struggling.

With midterms coming up, I asked a few of my friends in that class if there were any study groups I could join. One girl who I didn’t really know very well told me that her study group was meeting at her apartment that very night.

Up to that point, I hadn’t paid much attention to her. I’d never seen her on campus and this advanced stat class was the only class we had in common. Turns out that she had transferred from a local community college and this was her first semester on campus at my school.

She was a decent looking girl. Not a knockout or anything, but pleasant to look at. But she seemed to be quite shy and barely interacted with anyone in the class. So I was surprised that she was hosting a study group.

She gave me her address and suggested I show up at around 7 p.m. When I knocked on her door, she opened it and invited me in. She was wearing a tank top and shorts and, to be honest, looked kind of hot. She invited me to sit down next to her on the sofa in the living room. I asked her where the others were and she said, “Oh, didn’t I tell you? It’s just the two of us.” Hmm.

A very good statistics tutor, she explained a lot of the central concepts I’d been having trouble grasping. She really made it seem easy. By the end of the night, I was feeling well-prepared for the midterm exam.

I’m pleased to report that I am now quite proficient when it comes to advanced business statistics. After all, I’ve had years of excellent tutoring.


Okay. Your turn.

Fountain of Sorrow

Jack was looking through some photographs he found inside his bureau drawer. He was particularly taken by a grainy photo of his ex-wife, Melody.

There were others that she would have liked a little more, but they didn’t show her spirit quite as true. She was turning around to see who was behind her, and he took her by surprise. But at the moment that his camera happened to find her, there was just a trace of sorrow in her eyes.

The things that Jack remembered seemed so distant and so small, though it hadn’t really been that long a time. He realized that what he was seeing wasn’t what was happening at all, although for a while, their path together did seem to climb.

When you see through love’s illusion, Jack thought, there lies the danger. The person you thought to be your perfect lover looks like the perfect fool, so you go running off in search of a perfect stranger. And in doing so, you destroy what is nearest and dearest to you.

Jack felt that he and Melody were so close to reaching their dreams. But that magic feeling between the two of them just didn’t seem to last. So while the future’s there for anyone to change, Jack wished there was some way he could change the past.


Written for today’s one-word prompt, “grainy.” This story was inspired by the Jackson Browne song, “Fountain of Sorrow.”