Tag Archives: Men

Gentlemint – It’s like Pinterest for Boys

Warning – I’ve already had a gimlet this evening.

So you guys should know me by now as being kind of an internet whore.  By internet, I mean this shiny silver box on my desk that Al Gore claims to have invented.  By whore I mean…. well never mind.  Ever since I moved my office to the back of my house I’ve realized that there is now a 1.26 hour window of time that I can’t stare at my computer screen. Or at the very least, the 27 inches of my Mac become one very small 4×4 inch box in the lower left hand corner.  See the problem with natural light is that it comes through windows and as a result, my computer screen doesn’t fare so well.

And I’m too lazy to close the shades.

So what’s a gimlet drinking boy to do at 3pm when the sun dis-allows him to work?  The answer is quite simple.  Use the laptop in the bedroom (hereby known as “The Computer Used for Porn”) to surf the web and mingle around the other blogs.

So I did.

And I found a gem.

You can thank my friend over at Modern Sauce. (Be sure to stop by and pet her kitty…. or stroke her ego.  Probably the same thing)

Oh right.  The Gem.  Now I know the boys out there have been screaming bloody murder because women took to Pinterest like the last pair of holey nylons on the legs of an unshaven drag queen.  And of course, when boys aren’t happy, they’re passive aggressively so. And really we can’t have the boys mad because then who the hell would kill the spiders? Not me.  I don’t want spider legs caught in the embossed pattern on the bottom of my Louis Vuitton slip-ons.  Or my cheap outlet store Converse for that matter.

Enter Gentlemint

According to the American Mustache Institute (if this a real school I know a few hipsters that would so apply!), Gentlemint is “one of the more manly websites on the planet”. I can’t disagree.  After perusing a few pages of manly pins, I have realized that it could only be more perfect if there were a pin of Sophia Loren making out with Brigitte Bardot.  It’s ammo.  And guns.  And knives. Sprinkled with men’s fashion (even they know when to let in the gay quotent) and mustaches.  And I even saw a photo of a stainless steel kitchen.

It appears to be a relatively new site run by two men who smoke cigars (probably the good cubans… the cigars.  Not the men) and were tired of their wives (or girlfriends… probably girlfriends since they are still allowed to smoke cigars) Facebooking whatever crock pot recipe or scrapbooking idea or fuzzy unicorn they’d found on Pinterest.

Just for good measure…. I thought I’d give you a little taste of just what you’d find on Gentlemint…. Cool right?

Guys guys.  I know you’re rushing to log in but it’s still in beta.  You’ll need to wait.  According to their blog it doesn’t sound like it’ll be much longer.

The question is…. can I be a Tastemaker on the ground floor?

First Floor: Telephones, Gents ready-made suits, shirts, socks, ties, hats…..

(I will personally send a $5.00 Starbucks gift card to the first person who can tell me what TV show that lyric is from…..)

D.Coop was not compensated for this post.

Images via: D.Coop, Wanken, Steven Whildish, Smithsonian

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To Mancave or Not to Mancave? That is the question.

Mancave, noun: A room, space, corner or area of a dwelling that is specifically reserved for a male person to be in solitary condition, away from the rest of the household in order to work, play, involve himself in certain hobbies, activities without interruption.

– Urban Dictionary

Grunt.

I am also pounding on my chest but because I’m not so well versed in the art of You-Tube and I still don’t know how to work my webcam (do I even HAVE a webcam?), you won’t get to see it.

I’m not hairy (save for several random hairs on my big toe, what’s with that?!). I regularly purchase and use deodorant. I don’t club my women. Well actually, I don’t club men either (I prefer my date alive thankyouverymuch). And my teeth are regularly inspected by a member of the American Dental Association. So I utter a few grunts and groans when falling out of bed each morning.  And yes, I CAN apply for car insurance online.  I think that this means, by last count, that I am not a caveman. Score!

*makes note on resume*

Granted, I’m not your normal guy. I don’t do sports (and by don’t do I mean don’t do without a drink in my hand). I’ve never read Playboy (by read I mean read without a drink in my hand).  And I’ve never fist-bumped three of my other buddies because a really big guy in tight pants carried a Stewie shaped ball over a white line and did a “Hand to Jesus” move.  Big shocker right?  Should I make a Steelers joke right now?  Probably not… don’t want to lose the one reader I have from Pittsburgh.

So, Mancave. Let’s talk about this for a minute. The last time I checked, we’d made it past the evolutionary stages whereby we all walked as if we lived in a French bell-tower (ie: hunched over), grunted our orders, and screamed Yabba-Dabba-Do at the top of our lungs. This isn’t the stone age and a great majority of us haven’t eaten Dinosaur in years (Though I’ve heard it’s quite a delicacy). Yes guys, I know the Mancave is that one space in the house that is all yours.  With the “Keep Out Girls” sign on the door even though Pamela Anderson has held a place of honor on the wall since her first surgery.  You know what I’m talking about.

“Everytime I hear the word Mancave I’m struck by what a giant step backward it is.  Does making a room sound like it has Neanderthal-esque appeal make it more attractive?”

– Meredith Heron Meredith Heron Design

Sure.  It is the one place in the house that you are free to do guy things.  Like play X-Box.  Or watch football.  Or fart.  And yes, some of these actions may seem a little caveman-esque (if I hear “There is more room on the outside” one more time…) but isn’t calling your room your cave just shy of asking to be hairy and grunty again? Bears live in caves. Cavemen live(d) in caves. Trolls live in caves.  Scratch that.  Trolls live under bridges.  But men, we have this great thing the Oxford English Dictionary calls a vocabulary.  Say it with me. VOC-AB-U-LARY.  I tend to think of the great TV men.  Dick Van Dyke. Darren Stevens. Al Bundy. None of them had a Mancave. Van Dyke had a study (and a chair with a really dangerous ottoman). Darren had his office (which I believe was actually immune to his mother in law).  Al Bundy had a toilet in his garage.

Call me old fashioned but isn’t referring to our “space” as the Mancave, no matter how we say it (try it with an English accent, it’s fun!) a little disrespecting?  A little self-depreciating? We’re men yes.  Are we gentlemen?  Some of us. But are we cavemen?  Not unless you’re in a Geico commercial. So what’s the point of referring to ourselves as such?

Before you get your knickers in a bunch (another indicator that we are definitely not cavemen – we wear underwear; most of us anyway), I know that it all comes down to semantics. That Mancave is nothing more than a word.  That in the end, it all comes down to one of man’s most essential needs (after bourbon, football, and sex).  Personal Space.

“In my vernacular, the media/theater room is a space for the entire family; whereas the Mancave is just for the men of the house to be a testosterone-filled play area.  I love the idea of men and women having separate spaces to relax.”

– Angel Robinson Write Robinson Couture Stationery

I totally get it.  The further along you are in life, the more chance there is that people are encroaching on your personal space. Usually it’s little people and they’re trying to play with your toys.  That’s Daddy’s Playstation, Junior!  Steve and I are only two people with a dog and even that can be enough to drive me to drinking. As such, I can’t stress enough the importance of having a room or a space or at least a futon of one’s own.  A domain that isn’t public territory.  To be the master of your own land. It is totally key and although it doesn’t necessarily need a door, it should become a personal reflection of its owner.

BUT, and this is the big but, can we please open up the dictionary and call it something OTHER than a Mancave?  Study. Library.  Mantuary.  Salle des Hommes. My personal preference?  Lair.

And ladies, naming a room is like naming his … um… tool.  When he comes up with his own personalized tag (because you’ve tazed him every time he said Mancave) don’t laugh.  Especially when he calls it “Grawl’s Room of Magical Delights”. Just giggle under your breath and offer him another beer.

Thoughts?

Images via: ScrapeTv, GQ, Toonpool

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