This is Movember, where I grow a moustache for prostate health. Prostate cancer is the #1 cancer affecting men. You can donate or just watch me grow a cheesy moustache all month. (Proceeds go to the Prostate Cancer Foundation and Livestrong.) To see how much money is being raised by Movember thus far, CLICK HERE. To date, I’ve helped raise $60.

I’m also doing a 30-day meme, the whole of which can be found here.

Today’s photo of the ’stache-in-progress and a dry T-zone:

Eat your heart out, Tom Selleck!

Day 12 – How you found out about WordPress and why you made one

I heard about Wordpress while I was still using Typepad, but it wasn’t until I hired Karen Sugarpants to redesign SecondHand Tryptophan a few years back that I decided to take the plunge. She highly recommended Wordpress to me and I haven’t looked back since. I love the customization ability, the power of plugins. Since then, I’ve had another redesign (thanks to Rent a geek Mom) but doubt I’ll ever switch to another platform.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

First of all, admire the new digs for SecondHand Tryptophan! Thanks to the lovely Rent a Geek Mom, the design went live last night and I’m really liking it. Hope you do, too. Caitlin did a great job. My bud, Mic, drew the header graphic for me, so a big thanks to him, as well.

If you see anything wonky or notice some weird behavior on the blog, please let me know.

Second, for all my mom friends, hope you had a wonderful Mother’s Day yesterday.

"I'd like to say hi to SecondHand Karl and congrats on the new design!"

So I started watching “Live with Regis and Kelly” (sorry, Shannon) this morning, and then President Obama sees the need to preempt everything at 10:00 AM to announce his new Supreme Court nominee. Snore. Why can’t Barack get a clue and start his press conferences at 7:00 AM or noon, when nobody gives a fuck about what else is on TV? Or maybe 6pm, when the news is ALREADY ON?

Sure, this Elena Kagan (whose last name is close enough to Kegel to make me giggle) may be helping shape the very laws of the United States one day. But she’s already irritating me by interrupting my morning TV.

For future reference, major flood or earthquake? Local tornado warning? Plane crash? Mud wrestling in the Senate? Karl winning the lottery? All fantastic reasons to interrupt TV with an announcement. Short of that, fuck off and wait until the noon/evening news. Or hey, how about showing that shit on the channels I expect to see news on, like CNN or MSNBC?

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

No SecondHand Radio tonight. Just can’t see how to make it happen with Shannon here. Next week at 10pm.

With everything running off the rails lately, it’s been hard for me to remember the better things in life. Things like laughing and poking fun of strangers in the airport.

I’ve spent weeks preparing for Shannon’s visit and she’s sleeping away as I write this. Finally, now I can just enjoy her company. We both wore our “Prick Buddies Unite” shirts, which garnered a number of odd looks. When you’re wearing a shirt with your picture on it and the word “Prick,” well, you do the math.

We made record time from Orlando…her luggage came out faster than Ricky Martin. Mmm, bad analogy. Glaciers melt faster than Ricky Martin came out. Let’s just say the luggage came out lickety-split.

Driving the space shuttle home, we made it in just 90 minutes. Quickly got her settled into her room and went off to the Blue Lagoon for dinner (and beer).

Showed Shannon the wonder that is corn nuggets, which are like sweet corny bits of crack. And, oh, the fried corn on the cob, which is like corny bits of crack (just on a cob).

The laughs I experience with her around are some of the best I get. She’s infectious that way, and I’ve needed the laughter big-time. Playing “The Price is Right” on the Wii with her last night rocked…she even relinquished the Plinko game to me because she’s sweet that way. SillyBring is Saturday and, yeah, looking forward to it, but I’m glad I get some one-on-one time with the Bubblewench.

This morning, while she still slept away, I went off and got my blood drawn. This afternoon, I have the Matrix Therapist (long overdue…I hate having her every other week when there are moments of crisis popping up every other hour, it seems).

Now Shannon is in my shower – woo hoo! – and we’re about to watch Tuesday night’s episode of “Lost.” At some point, we’re talking about seeing “Kick-Ass” in the theater. May go to Gatorama, too.

It’s a godsend to me that she’s here now to help throw any drama onto the back burner. Oops, here she is now. Time to watch the Smoke Monster.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

So I may have all my own shit happening, but then, who doesn’t? Just read the latest update on Anissa. She still needs help. If you can afford anything, even a dollar, please take a moment to help Anissa’s family with the crazy copayments needed now that she’s home.

Yeah, home. Sweet. I’m hoping I get to see her in April, when I may be in Atlanta.

They have 40 days of outpatient treatments needed, $100 out of pocket a day.

Donate by clicking on the badge below. Thanks.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

First off, a belated Happy Birthday to my brother, Chris, whose birthday was yesterday. I caught it a couple hours before midnight, thankfully, but as usual, I’m horrible remembering birthdays. Hope it rocked, bro.

It’s Valentine’s Day. I typically loathe the day. It’s fake, it’s made up, it was designed not for you and me, but for Hallmark. I don’t need February 14th to remind me to say “I love you.” You should be saying that shit every day. You shouldn’t need a “special day” to send flowers or make your Someone breakfast in bed.

It’s worse when you’re not attached to Someone Special – I get it, trust me – I’m there myself. Valentine’s Day is all about making those of us Unattached feel less than. And that fucking bites.

This is Hilly’s fourth year doing Self Love Day and I’m not really a fan. I know, you’re shocked. You think I’d be ALL OVER something called Self Love Day, cracking jokes about how I DO practice self-love every single day (and I do), but no. I don’t like Self Love Day, not because it’s not a smart idea, or because I have trouble talking about myself – Lord knows I already talk about myself far too often.

There are two reasons the idea kind of repulses me. First, I’m supposed to talk GOOD about myself. Second, I’m supposed to let YOU talk good about me. Chills, I tell you, though I admit the latter is far scarier than the former.

But since I just waxed on (forfuckingever) about pushing outside my Comfort Zone yesterday, I figured what the hell. Here goes nothing.

The Rules

1.) Post one of the banners on your blog and declare February 14th as the day you not only love your one and only, but the day that you love yourself!

2.) Post one nice thing about yourself…then ask others to post one thing that they really like about you.

3.) Enjoy yourself!

Well, this takes care of #1:

One Nice Thing About Me

I make a mean bowl of Fruity Pebbles. OK, that doesn’t count. Too easy.

I really am down-to-Earth. I treat people like individuals, and don’t care what Collective they may be part of. I make up my own mind about people, and try not to let other people’s opinions taint my own.

And? I just said taint. Heh.

That takes care of that bit. Now comes the really scary part.

Your turn.

#3? The enjoying myself part? Yeah, that’s also the 3rd reason I don’t like Self Love Day. Too much pressure.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

I do. I’m manic. You KNOW I do.

And I will. Later.

Right now, though, a friend of mine needs your love.

But come back. If you stay too long, Adam might think you’re food.

Shit, that would have been a lot funnier back before all his fucking weight loss. Dammit. I think my March Resolution needs to be my timing.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

It’s time for SecondHand Radio to return from the holidays, and tonight is the very first show of 2010. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed because my guest is none other than the Queen of Diplomacy herself, the Bubblewench!

Shannon is a dear friend who I always enjoy being around, and this is her first appearance on 2HRadio. A northern gal through and through, she’s bombastic, hilarious, and genuine. She’s also known for saying things out loud that most of us think but don’t have the balls to say. Once or twice, saying such things has gotten her in a little trouble, but it’s one of the things I love about her.

Shannon is also my Prick Buddy, which we’ll discuss tonight, too. It’s all about the Year of Resolutions.

I don’t often tweak the show time around, but Shannon is someone I’ve wanted on the show for a while and she works crazy early hours and shit. So tonight I make an exception and we start an hour early.

Yes, tonight’s show starts at 9:00 PM Eastern, 6:00 PM Pacific.

The phone number is 724-444-7444, Call ID 23738. You can call in just to say hi to Bubblewench, ask her a question, or talk about your New Year’s resolutions. Whatever.

I highly recommend that you go to my SecondHand Radio info page, register at Talkshoe.com and download the Talkshoe client (though not required, I think it’s a superior chatroom experience).

Tell all your friends. And if you have trouble getting into the show for some reason, feel free to call in and you can listen on the phone that way. I can leave you on mute, if you prefer.

Showtime: 9PM EST, 8PM CST, 7PM Mountain, 6PM Pacific (and that’s 2:00 AM GMT)

Show Link:

http://www.talkshoe.com/tc/23738

Call-in Number: (724) 444-7444, Call ID 23738

2HRadio Info (including complete list of upcoming guests)

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

Anissa. I adore her.

I’ve read some posts about her the last few days, since she suffered a stroke and the entire blogoTwittersphere is talking/praying for her. But I just haven’t been able to muster whatever it is I need to muster to write something of my own. I can’t. It’s been a fucked up week for me, full of stress/anxiety/depression. And now Anissa.

I will say that it’s another bucket of ice water thrown over my sleeping head. One moment she’s fine, the next? Hospitalized, unconscious, and fighting for her life. If that doesn’t make you want to live every moment to the fullest, I don’t know what will. Appreciate what you have, WHO you have…

Thought I’d just link to a guest post she wrote for me during the Summer of Love, where she includes a guest post I did for HER on HER blog. It’s a long story.

Just read it.

And Anissa? I know you’re in there, babe. You’ve opened your eyes a number of times now, according to Peter. Keep fighting. Come back.

PS: I love your boobies.

I’ll be out of pocket the next day or so. Going to my Dad’s today, probably staying over night. Stepmom is in the hospital because, y’know, the world apparently doesn’t care that my head is about to explode already…more stuff just keeps piling on. My friends, too. I’ve declared a public moratorium on sickness, dying, or anything bad or stressful.

I’m just waiting for God to flip the START switch on my request.

Should be any time now, I’m sure of it.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

So, due to the fact that I’ll be drunk in a bar Thursday night for KimBerday in Alabama, when I THOUGHT I’d be at Kim’s house, we will be having Thursday night’s show TONIGHT!

Yes, that’s tonight – MONDAY night at 10 PM EST, 7 PM Pacific. Please spread the word.

My guest is Danny Evans of Dad Gone Mad, author of the new book “Rage Against the Meshugenah.” Danny is an amazing writer and, though I had planned on finishing his book before our original show on Thursday, that’s not going to happen by tonight.

Still, he’s graciously agreed to reschedule for this evening because he rocks.

I can tell you, though, that I’m about six chapters in and Danny captures the essence of depression like no one I’ve ever read. Particularly from a male point-of-view. And yeah, I’m someone who knows depression.

I highly recommend that you register at Talkshoe.com before tonight, if you haven’t already done so. There’s a live chatroom that is quite active most show nights.

And I also recommend you downloading the Talkshoe Live client, as well. It’s what I use for every show. You don’t HAVE to, but from what I understand it’s a much more stable client than the Web interface. Plus, I like the chat interface in Talkshoe Live a lot more than the Web interface.

Showtime: 10 PM EST, 7 PM PST.

Show Link: http://www.talkshoe.com/tc/23738

Call-In Number: 724-444-7444, Call ID 23738

You’re all welcome to call in to talk to Danny and I. Sorry for the last-minute schedule change. Hope to see you there.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

I hope you packed a lunch.

Right, so I’m home, and I’m backdating this post to yesterday, since Marty wrote a fine guest post for me today and I hate posting more than one post a day. Gotta love the Summer of Love.

So I was going to write my usual BlogHer recap post, complete with bullet points and photos and tons of links to bloggers I met and silly stories. And I will. I may be committing blogging Sepuku by not getting to the funny recap NOW because the days immediately following BlogHer are when you get the most hits from new faces. We’re all just meeting each other, sifting through the truckloads of business cards we were given, and establishing new relationships…some that will last a lifetime. So yeah, by the time I get my recap post written, you’ll all likely be sick of reading recaps.

But this whole t-shirt thing has gotten way out of hand, at least as far as I’m concerned, so in a rare moment I’m going to (perhaps stupidly) get serious for a bit. I think it’s important, mostly because a large number of you are probably new to me and my blog, so you don’t know me that well at all, aside from me being the ass who wears sexist t-shirts at a mostly-female conference.

One question I am asked over and over again by women at BlogHer every year – and I’ve been going since San Jose, so BlogHer 2009 is my fourth conference – is “Why are YOU at BlogHER?”

My most frequent response to that inquiry is, “Because this is where my friends are.” And that’s the truth. And next year? In New York City for BlogHer 2010? I’ll have even more friends because I met the best people in Chicago.

For the record, believe it or not, I am incredibly pro-woman and I adore BlogHer with the intensity of a thousand suns. I first went to BlogHer in 2006 in San Jose, and only to meet a handful of my favorite bloggers that I knew were going. When I discovered they would be there, I joked that I was going, too…because who knew that a female blogging conference was actually so progressive as to actually invite men into that world?

Well, as it turns out, BlogHer DOES want men there. And yes, there have been many posts written about how vaginally-challenged people do not belong there, how men are just trying to invade and take over yet another space, how it’s not fair that women can’t have even THREE fucking days to themselves without our presence. Right, I’ve heard all the arguments and complaints many times, and I’ve had many conversations with ladies about it.

In 2006, there may have been perhaps 30 or 40 men at BlogHer, tops. And not everyone was happy about it. A LOT of anti-men sentiment surrounded that conference, which was daunting for me, to say the least.

Me, a dude with social anxiety like you wouldn’t believe, who freaks out at ANY conference, let alone an “all female” conference where some people were less than welcoming. I’m happy to say that I’m good friends with most every woman who didn’t like the prospect of a male presence in 2006. What can I say? To know me is to love me (or not), and all that happy horseshit. I’m very fortunate, in that the women who wrote anti-men posts prior to BlogHer 2006 are all incredibly intelligent, accessible, and gracious women. We clicked nearly instantly, they realized that I was NOT there to spoil their experience or invade. I just merely wanted to be included. And hang with my friends. And that while I may play a pervert on TV, I’m not one in real life. OK, maybe that last part isn’t ENTIRELY true…heh.

Most of my friends have always been women, and that’s not likely to change. I don’t follow sports, I don’t know shit about cars, and that eliminates about 70% of male conversation for me. On top of that, I’ve been through a shitton of therapy since the mid 90’s so I am far better-versed at emoting and expressing myself than the average man. (Broad Sweeping Generalization, but tough shit.)

Basically, I’m very in touch with my feminine side and am only angry that I don’t have my own set of breasts to play with all day. Oops, ok, so yeah, when I am anxious I tend to crack jokes at inappropriate moments. Again, tough shit.

Don’t get me wrong, had BlogHer.com said that the BlogHer conference was a woman-only conference? I would never have gone. But the Leading Ladies at BlogHer made it very clear that men were welcome to come. I was broke and out of work at the time, so I volunteered to live-blog the San Jose conference, and my conference cost was comped. I think that’s an amazing thing that Lisa, Jory, and Elisa established, the volunteer program. It allows women (and men) to afford something they might not be able to attend otherwise. And yeah, I took advantage of it.

The live-blogging thing actually served me with an unexpected bonus effect: it legitimized my being there a little more. I had an additional reason to give women about why I was there…oh, I’m live-blogging three of the sessions. It forced me out of my comfort zone into social situations that I might not have experienced otherwise, and it brought me into SESSIONS I might not have experienced otherwise, too. Met a ton more people, subsequently felt more comfortable because I knew more people, etc. ad nauseum.

And those three leading ladies, by the way? Incredibly sweet women, who all went out of their way that first year to talk to me, make me feel welcome, and actually THANKED me for being there. Elisa in particular spent a good half hour with me that first year, when she and Jory and Lisa – and the other BlogHer staffers – were running around the hotel like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to do their jobs and take care of the myriad of logistical problems that must take place during something as big as BlogHer. And that was when the number of attendees were HALF what they were at BlogHer 2009. It can only be worse now.

Sure, I skipped a couple of sessions when I wasn’t live-blogging, retreated off to my room to curl up in a fetal position and try to regroup. I glommed onto the few women I knew before I arrived in San Jose, too, because that’s part of my coping mechanism, sticking with as much comfort zone as I can get my hands on when I’m in the midst of panic attacks.

But when I left San Jose, I had a ton of new friends, including those that were miffed at me for writing a post just 2 weeks before BlogHer about how I couldn’t wait to see all those chicks in lusty pirate wench outfits. And many of these women are some of my dearest friends now.

Clearly, I am not someone who is bound by political correctness. I think the world is far too fucking serious and sensitive these days. That isn’t too say there isn’t a reason for the sensitivity, but I’m pretty glad I grew up in the 70’s and 80’s when people were made of sturdier stuff and got offended far less often. It made me stronger.

I was a bully’s wet dream throughout school. I was short, small for my age, wore glasses, sucked at sports because I had asthma and a severe lack of coordination, wore braces and even the freaking headgear IN SCHOOL, and the list goes on and on. I was beaten up regularly, called “four-eyes” and “beaver tooth” and “faggot” and every other name in the book.

Because of this, I had to rely on my intelligence, and my wit and sense of humor. I talked my way out of many beatings (not enough of them, mind you, but still) and sometimes even made friends with the very people whose bootprints were on my ass. Over the years, I developed my wit a lot more and became more known for my humor than anything, really. Often, this humor was (and is) inappropriate, but it got me laughs from the majority of people, so you better believe I ran with it.

Laughter is my Weapon Of Choice when it comes to meeting new people. I know there is no better way to get MY attention than to make me spit soda through my nose, and so I count on making people laugh to get THEIR attention. This, by the way, is my primary reason for wearing such ridiculous t-shirts to a female blogging conference every year.

I started wearing such shirts in Chicago for BlogHer 2007. Designing most of them myself, of course. Wearing a shirt that says “Tell your boobs to quit staring at my eyes” made a lot of people laugh that year and I discovered just how much power there is in a smart-ass t-shirt.

See, I’m mostly a hermit. I work from home, I never have to leave the house if I don’t want to, and social networking – whether it be blogs or Twitter or Facebook – is where the bulk of my socializing takes place. I’m one of those people who freaks out at the notion of going to a social gathering, and will often place my back against a wall and pray that someone will come talk to me.

The t-shirts I wore in 2007? Immediate icebreaker. I didn’t have to initiate many conversations because people were coming to ME and engaging ME. Sure, there were dirty looks…there are every year, but the vast majority of the ladies are laughing their asses off, and I dig that. My shirts are often the start to amazing friendships.

Now I custom-design three shirts every year for BlogHer. One for Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night. If you think the ones I wore this year were offensive, you should see the 27 slogans that I wrote but DIDN’T DARE WEAR. Because, believe it or not, there are many things I would NOT wear at BlogHer. I enjoy straddling the line between inappropriate and offensive…I spend a lot of time atop that fence and yes, there are times I step OVER it. But I’m pretty good at owning up to my bullshit. I am accountable for my actions. I apologize and hopefully move on.

I’d never wear a shirt with the word FUCK on it at BlogHer, though I have seen plenty of women who do. I’d never wear a shirt with the word CUNT on it, either, because in my eyes that is as offensive a word as the “N” word, which I never utter. Hell, I don’t care how much you and I may fight, I’d never CALL you a cunt. I’d probably never even call you a bitch in that context, though I frequently use it in a humorous way, as in “Where my bitches at?”

My point being – and yeah, I’m probably the most long-winded fucker on the planet – I do NOT wear those shirts to offend anyone. I wear them for a laugh, I wear them as an icebreaker, I wear them because they work. I haven’t yet had time to look at any recap posts, let alone the Flickr sets, but I dare say that if you search Flickr in the BlogHer sets, you’re bound to find me posing for a lot of women, and WITH a lot of women.

THAT is why I wear those shirts.

I said this over at Grace’s blog, but anyone who truly believes that Adam and I went into a conference with 1,300 women wearing THOSE shirts so we could OFFEND those women? Yeah, you’re a moron.

Liz and I were discussing the shirt controversy on Sunday, while we cavorted around Chicago’s subways and found the Threadless T-Shirt Store (cuz yeah, I don’t have enough t-shirts). She and I have been friends since San Jose and she described the situation perfectly.

To wear a shirt that says “I am having very deep spiritual thoughts about your boobs” walking in downtown Detroit just before Thanksgiving…that is sexist. But to wear the same shirt at BlogHer, where 90% of the attendees are female? That’s comedy gold right there. It’s so ridiculously over-the-top that it borders on the absurd, and that’s why it’s funny. Damn fucking funny, if you ask me. Irony? Ever heard of it? Look it up.

True, I don’t offend easily. But I’ve seen a lot of women wearing some really funny shirts over the years that could easily be construed as offensive to women, and some that could be offensive to men. Again, I think we are far too easily offended these days, so none of those shirts offends ME, but there is a (small) contingent of ladies offended every year by shirts that women are wearing.

I joke often on my blog and on Twitter with many, many, many inappropriate remarks. I flirt heavily, mostly because it’s online and I feel safer doing it that way. In person? No. I’d love to hear from any of you BlogHer babes that I met and hung out with that felt I was offensive or hitting on them or anything like that. I’d be surprised (and hurt) if any one of them came forward and said otherwise.

One of the nasty commenters on Grace’s blog says that they know me and that my primary goal for BlogHer is to get laid. That’s bullshit, and that person (though I don’t know them) KNOWS it’s bullshit because otherwise they would have left a link and their real name so I could take it offline and CALL them on their bullshit one-on-one.

I haven’t had sex in TWO FUCKING YEARS, people. It’s no secret. And I have NEVER had sex at BlogHer, period. There were more than a handful of guys in Chicago over the weekend who were shocked to hear that because, well, shouldn’t getting laid for a man at BlogHer be like shooting fish in a barrel? Yeah, not so much.

It is true that I use inappropriate jokes and flirting as a means to attract women, but only because it’s women I mostly enjoy hanging out with, and bawdy women at that. So when I find a gal with a similar sense of humor (and there are many, believe you me), we hit it off like gangbusters. Am I doing all this so I can get them in bed? Hell no. Would I sleep with any of them if the opportunity arose? Hell yes. The single gals, anyway.

But logistically, it’s highly unlikely that I’ll ever get laid at BlogHer. Most of these women are rooming with 3 or more other women. And I always have roommates, too. Hell, two years ago in Chicago, I stayed at a hostel with FIVE other dudes.

That said, I’m not an idiot (for purpose of this point, anyway). If I met a lady at BlogHer (or anywhere, really) and we clicked really well, and she made me laugh, and made me think, and there was chemistry…sure, I’d be all over it. But that is NOT why I go to BlogHer.

I am a feminist. I believe firmly in equality for women. (I’m more a humanist, really, but you get what I’m saying.) I have twin daughters who just graduated college and are such amazing women (they’re 22) that I would be honored to hang out with them even if they weren’t related to me by blood. I cried harder watching “Beaches” than I did watching “Brian’s Song.” One of my favorite books is “The Time Traveler’s Wife” and I pray you’ll read that incredible book before going to see it in theaters next month.

I am one of the biggest BlogHer ambassadors there is. I have encouraged many a friend of mine to go to BlogHer, no matter how afraid they may be. I have assured them that no matter how “small” a blogger they may be, even the “biggest” bloggers at the conference are gracious and accessible and go out of their way to make newbies feel welcome. (And yes, there are always exceptions, but aren’t there always?)

If I see a woman at BlogHer sitting at a table by herself with that deer-in-the-headlights glazed look in their eyes, I make a beeline for them and try my best to comfort them. Why? Because I know very well what it feels like to be on the side of the dance floor, wishing desperately that you were included in the fun.

I can’t count how many times a newbie has said to me, “I don’t know a single person here,” to which I reply, “Well, you know me now, and stick with me – I’m going to introduce you to some of the most amazing women on the planet.” That’s not easy for me to do, socially, but I hate seeing anyone feeling excluded.

I am one of very few men that are part of the BlogHer Ads Network. I open doors for women, I always let them enter or exit the elevator before me. (And if you find THAT chauvinistic, tough shit. That’s how I roll.) I support many a charity or fundraising project, whether it be for breast cancer research or (sadly) one of the far-too-many women I know that has lost a child or any other cause that raises women up. I am incessantly ReTweeting ladies with links to help raise money for a Susan G. Komen walk or a lady suffering from cancer (or who has a child with cancer). And I am a Survivor.

I’m not deliberately trying to brag here, and mentioning this shit makes me uncomfortable, but I say these things to show you – my new friends and readers – that I am not a dick, contrary to popular belief. I’m not a sexist pig who goes out of his way to objectify the people he loves most. In a very rare moment of non-insecurity, I can truthfully say that I fucking rock. And I’m cringing at that statement and desperately want to delete it, but won’t.

I was raised to be a gentleman, and I like to believe that I’m pretty successful at it most of the time. And I say these non-humble things because all you ladies who didn’t know me in Chicago, but judged me by my cover, probably have no way of knowing these things since you didn’t come and talk to me.

And I’m not angry that you didn’t talk to me, I get it. Makes sense. I just wish you had. While I was initially irked reading Grace’s post, I quickly got over it and appreciate that she took the time to vent about it on her own space. And comment here on my blog, that took some lady balls. I do wish that everyone was as graceful (pun intended) in their remarks as Grace herself, but hey, to each his/her own.

I adore the friends who came running to defend my (and Adam’s) honor on that post. Some of the comments made me tear up, and that’s not easy for me. What I do NOT want to see is any vicious name-calling, whether it be here or over there or anywhere else. Especially if I am somehow involved. So read her post and the comments, if you wish, but if you comment there, treat her with respect and dignity. Mean people suck.

Now, Adam is not a man that needs defending. And I know he shocks people with his over-the-top humor, just as I do. Many women will attest to this if you merely take the time to do a little digging, but Adam is one of the sweetest, kindest, gentlest people on Earth. (Sorry, Adam, if I’m outing you.) He is a total gentleman with a very large female readership, whose best friend by the way? Is a woman. I am proud to call him a friend of mine and it makes me squirm when I see some of the haters spreading evil and nasty lies about him. I’m not bashful to admit that I love him. In a totally manly way, of course. *cough cough*

Naturally, you have to work your way past the Hitler header on his blog to SEE these things about him, and to be quite frank, I DIDN’T see past the header the first time I went to his blog. Because, shocker? Even though one of the commenters on Grace’s post insinuates that I’d be happy to walk into a Jewish conference in an “I LOVE HITLER” shirt, that’s incorrect. (And no, I don’t see me wearing the shirts I wore last weekend at BlogHer as akin to wearing a swastika shirt at a Jewish conference.)

I hope that all of you who were not at the Vaginally Challenged menblogger panel will seek it out when the audio recording from the session is released. Adam and Matthew and Jim were incredible panelists. They all made me tear up and I was proud to have them speaking for me as a man. And they rocked it. I personally know of at least four women who were nastily tweeting things about men being in Chicago, who sat in on the panel, and walked away feeling very differently about the male presence at BlogHer. So I owe each of those men a great deal of gratitude for being far more eloquent than I could have been.

I wish we were at a point in society when rumors didn’t abound about men and women being very close, platonic friends. Because truly, if you’re my friend you’re my friend, and I don’t give a shit that you have tits or a penis, or if you’re black or white, or if you’re straight or gay, or if you’re a Republican or a Democrat, or if you’re Christian or Buddhist or Wiccan or an atheist. I don’t SEE that shit, I just see people. Well, if you buttfuck horses, I might not like you, but otherwise I’m pretty accepting of most everyone.

Right, so the t-shirts. I consider them inappropriate, as much of my humor is. I do NOT consider them offensive, yet fully understand how you personally may have felt offended. Just please know that I hate hurting ANYONE. I hate that anyone felt unsafe at a conference I positively adore because of some stupid-ass shirts I wore.

But you can bet your sweet Spanx-covered ass that I WILL be in NYC for BlogHer 2010, and I WILL be wearing three brand new inappropriate t-shirts (actually thinking about adding a Sunday shirt to the repertoire). I will not be backed into a corner and go back to wearing mildly silly shirts, which is the bulk of what I wear.

There are far more important things to be worried about, ladies. The inequity in pay between men and women. The war in Iraq. People dropping like flies in Darfur. Homeless children living on our own streets. And who is getting kicked out of the Big Brother House this Thursday.

A dude wearing idiotic t-shirts at BlogHer shouldn’t even be a blip on your radar.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan