4 is totally wrong and I disagree with 5.
I went to college to get drunk and to get laid… along with the money thing.
And how can anyone be a girly man that voted for a man that played with Monica and a cigar? Fuckin’ conservatives… 
I got you beat. I disagree with them all. And I wrote the ogdam thing.
- Enjoys shopping.
- Knows the names of at least 3 spices.
- Gets emotional for about a week, once a month.
- Medicine cabinet full of personal hygiene products.
- The living room is color coordinated.
If your penis is shorter than 6 inches erect, you’re definitely a girly man! 
ennumerates the characteristics of girly men in a self loathing effort to combat feelings he just can’t quite deal with?
Uses words like “avocado” and “chartreuse” to describe colours instead of green and whatever the real world equivalent of chartreuse is.
Albert: Don’t give me that tone!
Armand: What tone?
Albert: That sarcastic contemptuous tone that means you know everything because you’re a man, and I know nothing because I’m a woman.
Armand: You’re not a woman.
Albert: Oh, you bastard!
Albert: You’re obviously not a cultural whatever-it-is. You’ve never been to a museum, and you eat like a pig.
Armand: Albert, these people are right-wing conservatives. They don’t care if you’re a pig, they just care if you’re a fag!
Armand: Val’s fiancée is coming tonight with her parents, and we thought… we thought it would be better if you weren’t here.
Albert: I see… I see.
Val: It’s just for tonight.
Albert: I understand, it’s just while people are here.
Wrong wrong wrong. I loves me some power tools from Sears. Grunt grunt grunt.
Shrieks in a high-pitched voice and jumps onto the nearest chair whenever a mouse scuttles by.
Cannot put bait on a hook.
Has never killed an animal with a gun, knife, his feet or his bare hands.
Has never opened a bottle of whiskey and thrown the cap away.
Is a bachelor and owns a dog that weighs less than 10 pounds.
Has no scars that can be described by the phrase, "So I was pretty drunk and . . . "
Can’t drive a four-wheel drive or use a highlift jack.
Has never been in a bar fight.
Has a diet that doesn’t include things with eyes or feet.
Owns no sports equipment.
Hell, we got a lot of rules in the west.
whistlepig
Er, throws “like a girl”?
You forgot bow n’ arrow.
What?!? You too girly to creep up on a buck and take him down close enough to see 'im without a scope?!?! Sheesh!
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sez the guy who’s never hunted but accidentally killed a bunny with a really bad shot…
Lemme see, we got salt, pepper, tabasco, chili - aaargh! I’m a girlyman! Get it offa me! Get it off!
Hand gestures can reveal a girly-man real fast. A common sympton is hand gestures done at near face level while talking. The worst is both hands at chin level, palms open and facing out, doing a little jig with the fingers moving while talking. No real man can pull that off.
The ones that when a guy sees one, the guy almost subconsiously checks to make sure his own fly is closed? You know, with the quick index finger flick to the little metal folding tab at the top of the zipper.
…you dress up as much as your woman does on a night out. (Predator suits such as corporate lawyers, investment bankers, etc., are exempted.)
…you dislike strip clubs for any reason other than overpriced watered-down booze.
…you display any reaction to cats other than sneezing, itching, or complete indifference.
…you say her name during sex anywhere near as often as she says yours.
…you can enjoy a sporting event without a serious emotional investment in either team.
…you can’t identify deep down, at least a little, with Little League dads who lay whoopass on umpires, coaches, or opposing team members.
…after watching the Old Milwaukee TV ad where men in the outdoors with cheap beer said “It doesn’t get any better than this,” you thought, “Oh, yes it does.”
…your mom, dad, or teacher told you, “It takes a really big man to walk away from a fight,” and you believed it.
…you identify more deeply with Jimmy Stewart than with John Wayne.
…you think Arnold had his tongue in his cheek when he talked about girlymen.
“Girlyman, Girlyman,
shops at Portmans, wears fake tan.
Combs his hair, flosses his teeth,
loves to dress like Penelope Keith.
Look out! Here comes Girlyman!”
To the tune of “Spiderman,” with apologies to Martin Molloy.
ROFL! You are sooooooo busted!
I just tried. All I could do was put both elbows on the table and stiffly waggle my fingers like I was typing on two keypads.
I can only conclude that I am neither a real man nor a girlyman. What am I?
But that’s what my dermatologist said to do after the skin cancer. No, I’m not kidding.
Inky