At Sir C's urging, I am posting a little impromptu verse I left in comments at Roy's gut-bustingly funny post about Doctor Mrs. Ole' Perfesser's gender epiphanies. (Promise me you'll click over and read Roy's post for context, 'k?)
The Missus' ideal man:
He can bring home the bacon,
Fry it up in a pan,
And never, but never,
Will ever be lettin' her
Forget he's a man--
Both tough and fallible;
Rock-hard yet malleable;
He cooks, sews, and fucks,
Shovels shit and drives trucks,
And only exists in her parable.
(With apologies to that 1970's Windsong Enjoli commercial.)
