Keep on Living the Dream, Guys!

What do guys do? I mean, what do they do when they aren't throwing big heavy filth-covered pieces of machinery into Ford F-150s, having orgasms at the sight of beer, or pumping gallons of Round Up on to that one weed sticking out of their driveways?

Well, we knew already what they DON'T do-- they don't shave. They don't comb their hair. They don't make themselves presentable in polite society in any way, shape or form.

Thanks to Hillshire Farms, we have a pretty good idea of What Guys Do, at least on the weekends. They stand in their designated cubicle-yards grilling artery-hardening, environment-robbing meat products, pouring god knows how many toxins into the atmosphere (and into their bodies) in the process. Ah, suburbia, ain't i wonderful?

And as they turn the one or two sausages they used an entire bag of charcoal and half a can of lighter fluid to slightly brown, they attempt to make contact with the other Neighborhood Guys, who are producing their own clouds of pollutant in their own cubicle-yards, standing next to their own suburban palaces, which by the way are all made out of ticky-tacky and all look just the same. The dominant Guy of the Herd sings out the marching orders- to pay homage to Meat- and his supplicants (one of which is, judging from the mustache, a retired 70s porn star) respond appreciatively. My guess is that the one guy on the block busy putting the final touches on the beet salad keeps his mouth shut. No point in upsetting the Neighborhood Association, after all.

None of this looks at all familiar to me, which means that either I'm not a Guy, or I'm not a Real Guy. But that's ok- being a Guy doesn't look like a whole lot of fun in commercials, and not especially healthy, either.