Exile in Guyville
I'll always have soft spot in my heart for Baltimore. On the whole, it's my kinda town, albeit the whole tool fixation escapes me.
If small grunts escape your lips when you look at double-bevel sliding compound miter saws. . . . If you tried to serve beer and pizza at your wedding. . . . If you own more remote controls than pairs of shoes. . . . Well, you might just be a guy. And you’re in luck. Despite the amount of male manicures we’ve seen, Baltimore is a quintessential guy’s town. Heck, our Mayor even has a rock band. Of course, things used to be even better: back when the people at Orioles game were more “Wild Bill Hagy” and less “Bryce and his executive management wine-and-cheese cronies.” Back when bars were called “Red” something or other because the owner’s name was Red. Back when you could order a Natty Boh at said bars. Yet despite that, Charm City is still a long way from being the metrosexual capital of the Eastern Seaboard. We remain a blue-collar guy’s town. And this guide shows you how to take full advantage of it. Commence burping.
If small grunts escape your lips when you look at double-bevel sliding compound miter saws. . . . If you tried to serve beer and pizza at your wedding. . . . If you own more remote controls than pairs of shoes. . . . Well, you might just be a guy. And you’re in luck. Despite the amount of male manicures we’ve seen, Baltimore is a quintessential guy’s town. Heck, our Mayor even has a rock band. Of course, things used to be even better: back when the people at Orioles game were more “Wild Bill Hagy” and less “Bryce and his executive management wine-and-cheese cronies.” Back when bars were called “Red” something or other because the owner’s name was Red. Back when you could order a Natty Boh at said bars. Yet despite that, Charm City is still a long way from being the metrosexual capital of the Eastern Seaboard. We remain a blue-collar guy’s town. And this guide shows you how to take full advantage of it. Commence burping.
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