This shit has gone too far...

And no, I'm not talking about the commuting of the sentence of Scooter jackass Libby...

I'm talking about ...

The man room. Have I talked to you guys about the man room? I looked through the blog and didn't see anything, so I'm not sure.

The man room started innocently enough. My husband wanted to build a side room in the barn for his bike. Someplace out of the way for winter storage. He doesn't like storing it in the garage because people come in and out, kids come in and out, cats come in and out - he didn't want his baby to be abused. Completely understandable. Build your little motorcycle room, I said, but it better not cost me a mint. No, no, no, he said - I've got some wood leftover from other things, some paint left over from other projects...it won't cost a THING. Are you hearing me people? Not a thing. Who is buying this load of malarky? No one? Yeah, I didn't think so.

What this has become is something else entirely. What it has become isn't a motorcycle room. It's a man room. Julie referred to it as the masturbatorium. The phrase stuck.

What it became is a pet project for Kevin and the kids. They all built it...walls, doors, the works. Male bonding. It has a window air conditioning unit - but NO WINDOW. It has CARPET - which of course he bought. It has a refrigerator for "man room beer" that I am not allowed to drink, which materialized from who knows where. It has it's own cooler. It has the old broken chair from the basement that rubbed a groove in my drywall - it has a desk with his Harley lamp, which he bought. It has street signs and work signs all over the walls and ceiling. His fishing poles are mounted in this room, for which he bought a special rack. This is the home for the "inappropriate" calendars, signs, decorations...it has a clock that looks like a tire. It has special camping chairs, which he bought. Supposedly his guns will be mounted in this room, and I've made it clear that they must be locked up if they're going to be mounted anywhere - which means there's something more to buy.

Last weekend Alex and Kevin were in the barn working on heaven knows what and I couldn't find them...there they were, in the man room, with the AC on, reading magazines. Seriously? 3600 square feet of house and there they are sitting in a gray, windowless room in the barn. WHAT? I do not understand this concept. But, I guess I'm not a man.

And now, now he's gone too far. I came home and checked my bank account to see what's cleared, where we are after the weekend and I notice a $45 charge at Joey's Wallpaper World. Ummmm, what? Whodowa? So I call the husband - and sure enough - he spent that $45...on a wallpaper border...for the man room. You know, the room that wasn't supposed to cost me anything? I don't have window treatments in my living room and you just spend $45 on a wallpaper border for a room IN THE FUCKING BARN??? Holy mother - redick - ridiculous. Of course it's a motorcycle border - which makes it what? Cool? Agggggh.

A part of me thinks I should be grateful...at least he's not trying to pull this shit in the house. That ugly-ass, noisy-ass Harley lamp WAS in my BEDROOM for crap's sake. Eww. No. I did not faux finish my bedroom walls to have a Harley lamp sitting on the bedside table. No.

Every man who comes to the house thinks this room is a stroke of genius, and it's yet another thing for the future wives of my sons to be pissed at me for - they will forever think that it's completely normal and expected to have a man room. I'm so sorry future wives, I'll mix the cocktails and try to explain it to you - maybe by then I'll have it figured out.