04.09.08 From the Viking
Man Up Your Neighborhood
GREAT! You spend all your time making sure your place is man'd up and the whole manly quotient is brought down by your pansy-ass neighborhood. It's time to change all that, brodicus.

MAKE YOUR STREET MANLY
The root of your neighborhood's unmanliness is your street. From design (wow, a STRAIGHT LINE) to name (hey look, I'm named after a dead Indian chief! Whoopee.), the average American street is bitch made. Literally. I think most civil engineers are lesbians. That's a fact...

First off, you're gonna need to rename your street. The least manly part of a street's name is the "street" part. We know it's a fucking street, dumb ass street sign. My suggestion is to name the street after a bad ass, super dangerous animal, without the "street" or "road" part, like this:

Then when someone's like, "Hey, dude, put your cock away. You're really fucking drunk. I'm gonna take you home. Where do you live?" you can stick out your drunken fist and hiss: "Cobrrrraaaa!!!!"
And then, as the person is taking your drunk ass home, they're in for a surprise... because you've set up obstacles all throughout your street. There's a statistic out there that says most car accidents happen near your home. Well, with the right obstacle course, you and your neighbors can move that statistic from "most" to "all."
You should definitely set up some ridiculous cone obstructions, put a boulder somewhere right in the middle of the road and throw a bunch of dummies that look like helpless old ladies everywhere. But the most crucial part of the course is a gaping pit you're gonna have to carve out with some jackhammers. And making pits iz hard, so get to work, you!
MAKE THE OTHER HOUSES MANLY
You're in the back yard, putting the finishing touches on your tarantula garden, when you hear workers doing something to your neighbor's yard. So you peer over your Cambodian Killing Field Bone Fence and you see it: the superfat cat lady next door is painting her house pink.

GREAAAAAAAT.
But this is YOUR neighborhood. So let's man up this fat bitch's evil dragon lair with some black spray paint, a dumpster filled with garbage and a canister of bacon grease. Old Jowel Face may not have ever been able to trick a man into ever kissing her let alone settling down with her, but when you're done with her house, it'll look like she's been married to an alcoholic paralyzed veteran for the last 20 years. Now THAT'S manly.
MAN UP THE LOCAL SHOPS/RESTAURANTS
First thing's first... you gotta firebomb the local Curves. That is not only the least manly thing in your neighborhood... it's the least manly thing in the universe. It's a gym specifically designed for FAT CHICKS!!!
So yeah, set the one in your neighborhood on fire.

Now, when it comes to shopping (a rather unmanly activity), what's manlier than a great deal? Well... a deal that was born out of violent coercion. Because real men don't get half off subs by clipping coupons... they get them by refusing to pay the other half and then taking their fucking sub.
MAN UP YOUR BLOCK PARTY
The true test of a neighborhood's manliness is its block party. You may think your neighbor Steve from three doors down is representing for the dudes, but when he shows up for the block party in a miniskirt and sets up a "make your own Cosmo" table, you know your hood has some problems.
Most block parties go down during the summertime. There's nothing inherently unmanly about that, but it's old hat. And men abhor old hats. They make our manly craniums smell bad. So you should flip this block party shiznit 180 degrees. Then another 180! Then, another 180. Blizow!
Meaning, you're gonna be throwing the block party during the dead of winter. Pick a day that will probably be snowing (like December 12th... why not) and then don't tell anyone. When December 12th rolls around, set up a barbecue fire in the street pit and, at 6 AM, wake everyone up, firecracker-under-the-bed style.
The key to a manly block party is the food and drink. Forcing others to eat and drink stuff they won't like is the road to manly... because as you know, roads are made out of food and drink. And since the superfat cat lady just adopted a pair of newborn twins from Romania, your search for barbecue meats is over. It's time to for a Soviet Special (that's a BBQ'd Romanian baby for those not in the know).

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