Normally I’d have a lot more smart-arse things to say about this post, but the 17-month old baby, aka, ‘lil wheezy,’ took her job REALLY seriously and we ended up in the ER. So…I’m not my usual obnoxious self. No worries; she fine. We just got our prescriptions and hustled out the back door because the only thing I hate more than hospitals is childbirth with no drugs. And dog poop stuck in the crevices of my sneakers. Oh! And French-kissing winos. Think that’s about it. Wait…one more: eating maggots.

But since we’ve been doing this series of debates on what it means to be feminine, I want to get your take on a man (at least, I think he is) doing it better than some women I know.

B Scott, I’m not ashamed to say…I love you.