"A man has got to know his limitations,” my mentor “Dirty” Harry once said. It seems like every time I forget mine, I just get embarrassed into remembering them again – a lenient sentence compared to the spectacular explosions, fire fights, and harpoon death scenes that get the mobsters and hoodlums back-on-track in the popular Clint Eastwood movies.

I think it’s either because I’m lucky, or because my limitations are in fact so limited (stupefying may be a more accurate term), that over-stepping them isn’t considered a hanging offense – but it’s still exciting, well worth it, and really easy to do.

For instance, I recently ran out of Right Guard, so I’ve been pushing it for two weeks using an arrant stash of Lady’s Speed Stick. They say it’s strong enough for a man, but any day now that “pH balanced for a woman” disclaimer could kick-in, ruin my chances of ever being accepted by co-workers, and shame me into heading to the store and sniffing out a more suitable antiperspirant. Think about it; for no other reason than thrill seeking I could temporarily lose my self-respect, and gain a reputation as the guy who smells like a whopper. How extreme is that! And it required almost no effort!