Monday, April 20, 2009

A Man Cave? Whatever!

On Nightline the other night they did a piece about man caves. Apparently there is this show on one of those home channels where they go around and give men their own room, a man cave. They get a basement, garage or other room all to themselves often outfitted in sports paraphernalia and usually with a bar. They have big recliners, TVs, maybe a pool table or whatever else they may be into. Celebrities especially have very elaborate ones. They featured Snoop Dog's man cave and a few others. Anyway! Why in the heck does a man need a man cave!? I need a cave! If anyone needs to get away, it's a woman, especially a mother! I'm sure men will argue that the whole house is the woman's, probably because she decorated it, blah blah blah. Nope! I don't want any part of the house. I surely don't want the kitchen. Don't want the bedroom. And really, the rest of the house seems to belong to my daughter because it's her stuff strewn about the entire place. I want a woman cave! Here's what mine would look like... First, it would have a door with padlocks. Wait, forget that. I want one of those panic room doors that's made of steel, slides shut and is sound proof so I can't hear my child's little fists banging on it, or my husband's head. There would be three drinks on tap, red wine, white wine, and coke. The fridge would be stocked with cupcakes. Yes, just cupcakes. I would have one of those great pedicure chairs that feels like an actual person is inside massaging your back. There would be a huge TV that plays only reality shows, those 48 hour mystery shows, the E! channel, MTV, VH1, and TLC. A bookshelf would hold all the latest gossip magazines, such as US, OK, and People. There would be a phone that only makes outgoing calls. In case of emergency there will be a little red strobe light in the corner of the room that can be activated from the main part of the house. That light better not go on unless someone is gravely injured or we won the lottery. I would have a giant bed, the fluffy kind with all white bedding that you get in hotels. There would be no cat hair or kid vomit on it. The sheets and comforter would be perfectly in place and not scrunched down at the foot of the bed because the other person who sleeps in it doesn't know how to use a bed. The room would be wallpapered with shirtless photos of David Beckham. No mirrors allowed in the room. The faint smell of vanilla frosting would be pumped in through the vents. This is my cave, my oasis. No men or kids allowed!

7 comments:

Lindsey said...

Haha! I need one of those too. My boyfriend and I are currently restoring a house, and I've already claimed the attic as "my space" - it's going to be my crafting area. Hadn't thought about the panic room door though, that is an awesome idea!

Jill said...

I have never laughed so hard!!!

Houston's Weekly Chic said...

Brilliant! I couldn't have said it better myself:-) Although, maybe a hot, shirtless male maseuse could live in a closet and come out whenever you needed a rub down.

Houston's Weekly Chic said...

Oh by the way, I've just been informed that a "male masseuse" is a masseur. My bad.

Sweet 'n Sassy Baby said...

Masseuse, Masseur, whichever! I'll take two!

Lawrence said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Rachel Kovaciny said...

Amen, sister! Especially to this: The sheets and comforter would be perfectly in place and not scrunched down at the foot of the bed because the other person who sleeps in it doesn't know how to use a bed. Love it!

(The post above, that's been deleted, was also me, except the person who scrunches my bedding forgot to log himself out of Google. Again.)