Domestic Oblivion

Life With My Geek: Man Cave Has Jumped Shark

I’ve taken a lot of heat, here at home, since the man cave post.  Although I have my geek’s permission and full support to write about his, um, idiosyncrasies, , it appears that the sharing of the feelings for the Dave Cave was too much.

What upset him the most, however, was the fact that I didn’t let everyone know that he did, indeed, pull up his manties and attend the concert with me.  I am here to set the record straight:  Dave attended a social event without a gun to his head or an electronic device in hand.  Sadly, the Reverend Peyton and the entire Big Damn Band broke down in Jerome, depriving us of his music, his wife and her washboard, and leaving us with only the opening band.

Upon returning from Las Vegas, my geek announced that he had made a decision.  This sort of announcement is almost never a good thing.  It usually culminates with things like the geek eating everything with chopsticks, walking around in his underwear, or napping in his motorcycle helmet. 

The big decision?

Response will no longer be elicited when references are made to the office, the Dave Cave or the man cave.

Yep.  The man cave has officially jumped the shark.

But, take heart all you men with special places that belong only to you.  This is the dawning of a new golden age; it is now the era of the Man Bunker.

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