I spread the good news to my friends. “Hey, the local WalMart supposedly has the latest manscaping products in stock, and it’s supposed to be the best!”
They, twelve retired professionals ranging in age from sixty to eighty-five, responded.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
I was not put off. I’d already talked to them about anal bleaching. They often overlook these fine points of pop-culture. I’m the chosen one to educate them.
Many immediately said, “We don’t shape at WalMart.”
I said, “You might need to change your ways, if you want the latest manscaping products suitable for urbane gents such as as yourselves.”
Bill laughed. “Manscaping! I don’t have the eyesight for that kind of thing. I’d be afraid of what I’m clipping.”
“Get your wife to help you,” I suggested. “You can make it a romantic evening.”
“A romantic evening of manscaping?” Joe asked.
“Yes. Light some candles and have a few glasses of wine, and then strip down, lay back on the bed, and let her groom you.”
Bill roared. “That’d be a bloody mess. Her eyesight is worse than me.”
Andy nodded. “Enough said. No one sees me naked and I’m not interested in landscaping myself just for the joy of it.”
“Someone change the subject,” Chris said.
“Hey,” I said, “did you hear about the new waxing place in town, just for men?”