What happened to our cowboys? The bionic $6 million man like Lee Majors, or the rough and tough outlaw like Sam Elliot? Is it me or have our men gone from masculine, 5 o'clock shadow sproutin' guys to feminine, fake tanning/manicured boys? Perhaps that is a little harsh on my part. There are still robust, dangerous rebels roaming our streets. Just replace the 5 o'clock shadow with a gray, nappy, on the verge of dread locked-beard and waist-length mullet. Replace the cowboy Stetson and suede chaps with silver studded leather pants and jacket.

Replace the strikingly handsome stallion with an exhaust leaking, deafening HOG. And last but not least, replace the 30-year-old body and good looks with a 55-year-old body, who thinks he has that 30-year-old charm. Males, that are not Kid Rock wannabes, tend to act more like the stereotypical girl, probably more then we do. Have they forgotten the heroic icons like the Incredible Hulk, He-Man, the Terminator, or Highlander that even I grew up idolizing and I wasn't even a tomboy. What happened to the boys that were fearless about battling mutants regardless if it meant falling out of trees and breaking body parts? Today, our guys are, excuse the expression, wimps. They hurt themselves playing baseball or soccer and they need ice packs, Bengay, ibuprofen, doctor's notes, physical therapy, etc.

Give me a break. Whine, whine, whine. One of my cheerleaders popped her kneecap out of place and she still continued lifting stunts. Her knee was all bruised and discombobulated and she wouldn't tell us captains or our coach because she knew it would affect the squad if she couldn't base. All she needed in her mind was a little athletic tape to put her kneecap back in place. What a trooper. What a woman.
Not to bust on my guy cheerleaders because they are a blessing and I love them to death, but if they are feeling the slightest discomfort in any part of their body they will not participate. "Ouch, my elbow. Ohhhh, my back. I'm going to need to sit this one out." Meanwhile my crippled superwoman is holding 110 pounds above her head on one knee, literally biting her lip off, and still shows no sign of pain, in fear of being forced to sit out.

Since we're on the topic of pain, lets talk relationships. My girlfriend "Brenda" was recently devastated when her boyfriend of three years broke up with her. He was her first love, her life, and her soulmate.
Unexpectedly he takes all of that away from her without even discussing it with her first. She is alone, completely shocked and feeling nothing but utter anguish. What does she do? She keeps her head high, keeps a smile on her face, and doesn't let him, or anyone for that matter, know that she is in complete misery. She falls off her horse; she wipes off her brow and she gets back on. Again, what a woman.
My guy friend "Billy" also has the exact same incident happen to him. His girlfriend of three years tramples on his heart as well. How does he recover from it? He doesn't. He is still bitter after at least 8 or 9 months. He is completely anti-female. We are the devil. He wants no part in any kind of relationship unless it is "friends with benefits." He is an amazing guy with plenty to offer, but he is being a complete "girl" and is practically an atheist towards love now. It's unfortunate.

My friend "Aaron" was seeing a girl for a couple of months. He was completely into her, but unfortunately she didn't return the same feelings. He broke it off and on that same night one of his guy friends messed around with this girl. Just a side note, this girl gives us women a bad name. OK, Aaron is typically devastated that his friends, both boy and girl, could do something like that to him. He quits his job, he can't sleep, he does nothing but complain about it 24/7. He is acting like Dawson Leery, in my opinion. This isn't the WB, so get over it. Ditch the girl and beat the crap out of the guy so you can make up and salvage your friendship. Bros before Hos. What does he do instead? He gets back together with the girl and disowns his friend (a friend since high school, might I add).

I had a similar situation happen to myself, and yes of course in the beginning I was bitter and unhappy with both participants, but I got over it and forgave them both. I turned the other cheek. Of course I'm still a little weary, but not enough to remain sour. No, I am not being naive. I know if it happens again it is my own fault, and I am fully aware of this. "You hurt me once, shame on you. You hurt me twice, shame on me." Enough talk about love. Lets’ talk physicality. It is a known fact that it takes women forever to get ready.

Men have always had to wait on them. Considering all the bull we have to put up with, it's the least they can do, but I will not get into that. As of recently; however, I've noticed that it is the men that are more anal about how they look. My friend's boyfriend takes an extra 20 minutes to get ready because everything in his ensemble must match. "If he is wearing a navy and red ball cap, he must have on two layers of shirts- one red, one navy. He wears his blue jeans and his red and navy sneakers. I actually have to wait on him half the time," she says.

I used to work in a tanning salon. Do you know that the majority of our customers were men ranging from 18 to 55 years old? OK, men, that fake tan is so beyond feminine, and the same thing go with manicures and pedicures. They just shouldn't do it. You are supposed to be pale in the winter and men are supposed have bitten and dirty fingernails. You don't possibly think that Tom Selleck's character in "Shadow Riders" would ever grease himself up to bake in an oversized cancer box, do you? It is absurd that men are now beginning to take on female traits. We already have enough women in this world. You're men. You're supposed to scratch and spit. For the love of God, be proud of your masculinity and belch the alphabet.

I used to think that idiots were just people striving to be goofy. However, I recently met someone who changed my view. The fact of the matter is simple-some people are just meant to be idiots. Sure, some people try to be stupid, but after last weekend I have figured out that some people don't have to try. Of course, I did have to venture off to wild, wonderful, West Virginia to find this person. Actually, I initially met the idiot in Nags Head last summer, but I'm not counting that because I didn't really hang out with him until last weekend, while I was snowboarding at Snowshoe.

Ironically, the idiot was with my buddy, Glen, who I stayed with last season at Snowshoe when I was stranded in West Virginia. My intellectually challenged friend is a 19 year-old, presently evolving hippie named Brotten. Rotten Brotten, what a character. Since Glen lives to make fun of everything and everyone, the combination of the two was nonetheless a total riot. I had driven up to Snowshoe alone, but I was supposed to meet my Barbie doll friend late Friday night. Since she wrecked her car leaving the mountain Sunday morning, I guess it was a bad decision. I did have the pleasure of running into Glen and Brotten that day. I ended up staying with some weird West Virginians the first night, and I was nice enough to let Glen tag along so he would have somewhere heated to crash. It wasn't a big deal or anything, but still Glen proceeded to leave poor Brotten out in the cold truck to sleep all night long. I felt bad for the poor guy, but not after hanging out with him the next day.

What you see is what you get with Brotten. He wears extremely thick-framed, brown glasses. I swear I don't know how he even lifts his head. He has a reddish colored bird's nest on top of his head and he appears to be a poster child representing a hung-over Buddy Holly. Everything that comes out of his mouth is idiotic, and everything he says is followed by one of Glen's sarcastic remarks. Still, the Buddy Holly look alike follows Glen around and does everything Glen orders as if he is some kind of authority.
Brotten has to be one of the clumsiest human beings I have ever met. For example, Glen was running down a slightly inclined sidewalk Saturday night, when out of nowhere comes a speeding daredevil, passing Glen with a rush of velocity.

All of a sudden the speed demon loses control of his legs and falls right on his face, ripping his jeans, and skinning his knees rather well. The bloody marathon contestant was Brotten, of course. The kid lost control of his body, and he was only running. I couldn't wait to see him on a snowboard, but it gets better. About three hours later, still wearing the same ripped, bloody jeans, Brotten and I ran outside to my truck. It was rather chilly, so I took off in a sprint. Unable to pass up a race, the speed demon took off again. Just as I started to hum Chariots of Fire, sealing my victory, he wiped out again. This time he landed in a large, iced-over mud puddle in the middle of the street. To make matters worse, he was perfectly sober, both times. Obviously, Glen knew about Brotten's lack of coordination before he took him on a snowboarding trip. The poor kid had only been on a board about three times. Not that it really mattered, but the kid had already cut himself up, and he hadn't even gotten on the snow yet. Yet, I think that is exactly why Glen brought him.

Glen and his follower got a hotel room Saturday night with four bunk beds, so I crashed with them in order to get up early and ride, but when morning came Glen didn't want to get up because it was snowing. (We were snowboarding. I don't get it, either.) Therefore, being the cool person that I am, I volunteered to take Brotten with me down to the snowboard park. I was quietly waiting in the room for Brotten to get his stuff together (which was taking over an hour) when Brotten accidentally woke the hibernating bear (Glen). "If you two don't get out of here now, I am going to kill you both," yelled Glen.
I wasn't even talking. It was all clumsy Brotten. Brotten then informs me he has no goggles (it is snowing), and he can't remember where he put his gloves. (Good thing he found some in the hotel lobby!)

"Great, I'll never get to ride today," I thought. Finally, Brotten was just about ready to snowboard that day. Which was a good thing because Glen was about to rupture a blood vessel. It was just about this time when Brotten made his fatal mistake. He lit a cigarette. Cigarettes are bad, but they are really bad in a nonsmoking room. Especially one with a very loud fire alarm. Brotten hadn't taken three drags when the fire alarm went off in the room. Rather than trying to disengage the extremely loud alarm, Brotten proceeded to do some sort of rain dance with the cigarette in his hand. A nonsmoking room equals an absence of available ashtrays. Subsequently, Brotten just couldn't figure out what to do with the lit butt he continued to wave around in his hand.

Meanwhile, Glen is still yelling. He then proceeded to pick up the closest chair and throw it at the dancing maniac. All he made contact with was the dresser, the TV, and all the crap Brotten had been going through to find his gloves. I stopped laughing long enough to inform Brotten where the toilet was located, but he still didn't put it together. I knew right then I had to go. As I drove home from West Virginia later that day something dawned on me. Rather than becoming annoyed and irritated with idiotic people, I should just chill and be patient. Eventually, they will see the light. If they don't, that is OK too, at least I get to laugh. I'm finally starting to understand people a little better. Brotten made me realize that sometimes it is not a person's fault that they act the way they do. Sometimes, people just can't help themselves.