Men and Their Toys

What is it about guys and their toys? Any gadget, car, electronic paraphenalia, boobie mag, grill accessory, or new joke---they just gots' ta' have it!!! I waited in our pick-up line at school today for the girls. Two cars ahead of me a police officer was in a Viper, yes a COP. He was eagerly having the principal, an extremely tall man, sit in the driver's seat. Because nothing is better than one man showing off his cool shit to another man. It's like playing the "I'll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours" game. Mothers were getting out of their cars to flirt shamelessly with Officer Studly. Then the elementary school band came out with their teacher. The police officer puffed his chest out a little further and popped his hood. A reporter from a local newspaper busted out her camera and notepad. Officer Hot Shit turned his lights on. I am surprised the principal did not rent a giant spotlight and the Village People for this little show. The gym teacher, another guy, came out and they all were just giddy with their manliness. I am surprised they did not start butting chests.

I am married to the ultimate gadget junkie. If it comes out next Tuesday he will find a way to get it at midnight Monday night, sometimes sooner. He is sort of known for that. And Lord help us when a new or upgraded version of his toy comes out.
Sultan: "Honey, would you like a digital camera?"
Me: "Yes, I would totally love one!!"
Sultan: "Okay, here's my old one I just bought myself a newer version!"
And I am supposed to pee my pants with joy over the hand-me-downs? A similar conversation came to pass when the new IPhone came out. Don't get me wrong, I love my (slightly used) digital camera and IPhone. They just weren't mine first.

Sultan used to have a Mustang. He got the engine all souped-up so it was extremely LOUD. The louder it sounds the bigger man you must be, right? It was so loud I could hear him two streets away as he drove from home for work. I cringed knowing the entire neighborhood could hear his Man Mobile daily. The guys on the street were probably jealous they were driving sensible sedans and not a Mustang. I wasn't allowed to drive his Penis on Wheels because I "couldn't handle it" without him in the car with me. Oh I didn't WANT to handle it. Ironically the only time I ever got to drive it was when I backed it out of the garage to pass it on to its new owner. I thought my days of loud cars were long gone. Wrong..

We visited the Volo Car Museum in Volo Illinois on the premise of a "fun family adventure". My internal red flags should have popped up but they failed me. We wandered around the museum, looking at cars from every era, all conveniently for sale with many zeroes on the price tags. We took silly pictures with the car from the Flintstones movie, The Dukes of Hazzard, Kit from Knight Rider, and a slew of other vintage automobiles. My honey had unknowingly done his homework behind my back. Tsk, tsk. He had to search with the help of a museum employee/sales hound through a few closed-to-the-public garages for his treasure. At last, with the obnoxious roar of three other cars to clear space for it, out came the red beauty. As soon as I laid eyes on it, even before I saw the punch-drunk look on Sultan's face, I heard that engine roar and thought to myself, "That's his car.." I have to admit, it IS a pretty little car. It is a cherry red 1967 Camaro convertible with white racing stripes. I am neither a gadget whore nor a car fan but it does make me smile when I take a ride in it. And that's just what we did. We all hopped in and cruised around the parking lot, even out onto the swerving country roads. I quickly figured out why my man, hell ANY man for that matter, likes to be seen in a sweet ride. Because everyone stares at you when you drive by. It is the ultimate attention-getter. We left with no car in possession but dreams in his head of That Car. I know it was merely a matter of time. A short while later, Sultan bought his little beauty. His buddies went back up to Volo with him and videotaped nearly the entire ride home. We are talking first time through the toll booths, pulling out from the parking lot, first time driving down our street and into the driveway. I guess it's a guy thing. It was like when we brought Sophie home from the hospital. There was that much awe and reverence over this car.

My hubby is currently playing XBox Live with his friend. They have Britney Spears-looking headsets on (oh yes they are...) and are talking smack/sharing tips over this headset. They are playing a pretty damn barbaric game, Gears of War. Once again, I don't get it. Grunting, swearing, screaming. If it wasn't for the blood and ridiculous weapons it sounds like they're trying to take a shit with each other. My husband just sliced some zombie soldier or alien or enemy asswad in half with a giant chainsaw/gun thing. A lightbulb went off in my head because he has a REAL-LIFE-SIZED one of these in his theater room downstairs. Resting next to his meticulous shelf of video game and Star Wars collectible shit. Let's just call it what it really is here..... ACTION FIGURES. There, I said it. My grown husband has a slew of action figures. I don't think he sits and plays with them but who knows? Another mystery in the world of males. In the words of Beyonce, that booty-shakin', mocha songstress, "But you're just a boy."