The estrogen frontier

(Ahem!) Hello Newcastle. I come to you ... (cough, cough) ... Let me try that again.
Hello Newc ... (hack, choke, wheeze) ... Excuse me. One more time.
Hel ... (choke, hack, cough, wheeze, high-pitched screech) ... I apologize. I’m choking on estrogen. Sorry about that, but I have recently been through a traumatic experience, and I must confess that I am worried that I will never shake off the effects. I don’t know what it is about last Thursday night, Nov. 7. I really don’t. But if I had to make a guess (and since I’m writing this and trying to communicate to y’all, I guess I do have to make a guess), I would say that the stars rained female chemicals down on our pretty little town.
Pretty little town?! No! I will not go down that path. I’m gonna “man up” about this and keep my skirt on! Shirt! I mean my shirt! (hack, cough). I’m not going to let this recent insanity that the Frontier Home Center displayed against all manhood continually affect me. 
You see, there was an open house on Thursday. And it happened to also be Ladies Night Out. These two events were mushed into one; that happened at the same time and the same place. I don’t know what those two things have in common, but apparently every woman from the entire North American continent knows what the connection is, because every single one showed up. Apparently it’s that important of a happening. Lord knows I don’t know why, but it was pretty. No! I mean disgusting! It was disgusting! (cough)
When I drove out there at 7 p.m. I couldn’t even find a parking spot for 500 miles! But a photo opportunity is a photo opportunity, so I was determined to get in. So I skipped ... ah ... (hack, choke) ... I stomped my way up 137,000 streets to the store with my camera in hand. As soon as I turned the corner, the entire female population of the earth was lined up outside. The line ended in San Antonio. But I eventually got in and instantly jumped up and down clapping my hands and squealing in a high pitched voi …. Ah … I mean, I complained about the lack of room to even breathe without getting my lungs clogged with the stench of White Boulders, or Wild Shoulders or some perfume like that! It was heavenly ... um ... hellish! 
Now, guys, I have a question for you. Girls, don’t answer, even if it kills you to be quiet. How many times have you seen a hardware store without a single man in sight? Me neither! It was wall to wall women. You could barely move without someone rubbing off onto you the sweetest flowery perfu … (hack) ... I mean foul smelling foo-foo stuff. They were up and down every isle, climbing on the shelves and swinging from the light fixtures. I was just inundated with female femininity, and it was carrying me like a riptide.
But I came here to get pictures, and get pictures I was going to do. There were vendors from all over Newcastle with their tables set up, and their sweet little cute wares to … (aaaaargh!) (clears throat heavily and spits) … I meant their tables with disgusting useless girly wares as women lined up to buy, buy, buy, buy, buy. If there was one man in Newcastle with a single dollar left in his wallet, he is not a married man. 
Anyway, after about an hour of this charming … (ugh!) ... disgusting testosterone draining experience, I had to get away from there. Partly because I could feel hair starting to grow on top of my bald head in long flowing full-bodied curls ... ah ... I mean in sparse itchy patches, but mostly because I was afraid I was going to start lactating. As I got home, my wife drove up to the house after work.
“Where have you been?” Connie asked. So I told her. “Lets go!” she told me as she pulled my wallet out of my back pocket and emptied it of anything remotely resembling paper.
So there I was again, sauntering up and down the aisles of Frontier for an additional year and a half as Connie was magnetically pulled to makeup tables, and jam displays and bra vendors. Now I do have to admit that those bras looked really good. I know I want to try one on for …. Ah …. (hack, cough, wheeze  …aaargh!) ... I wanted to burn them all!
Sorry folks. I keep tasting estrogen, and I better wait for it to completely dissipate before I continue. Besides, if I keep tapping on my keyboard I’m afraid the vibrations may cause the Bundt cake I have in the oven to fall.