“I’m the man! I’m the man! I’m so bad I should be in detention…”

While unfortunately this blog has gone by way of the history books for the sake of my attention span being devoted to an upcoming line of Gonzo hot sauces (stay tuned), every once in a while something waltzes into my line of sight, lingers in my crosshairs and all but dares me to satisfy the itch on my trigger finger. It is at that point that I check the wind, hold my breath and let loose like a firing squad without the guilt-sparing mercy of blanks. I generally reserve my guilt for the things I haven’t written, not for what I have.

Despite having high levels of testosterone, a penchant for blue language and a deep-seated love of football, I am, last time I checked, a woman. A beer-dork-in-the-nicest-way-possible sort of woman, but a woman nonetheless. And if you do your job right as a PR newbie, that demographic should perhaps—and I’m just putting this out there—be a red flag when you are shilling an upcoming product called a ManCan. “Just pick it up. Hold it in your hand. It’s rugged. It’s steel. It’s manly. It’s a can. It’s a ManCan!” Oh. Oh. The fun that can be had with that bit of marketing horseshit. “Just pick it up. Hold it in your hand. It’s rugged. It’s steel. It’s for chicks. It’s shaped like a stick. It’s a ChickStick!” (Otherwise known as a dildo. Please do not handle near water. May cause unexpected verbal outbursts and seizure-like motions. If dependency develops, seek medical help immediately…not.) Newsflash: I have cans…and they’re nicer than yours.

Had you asked me yesterday what ManCans were, I would have figured it was the latest slang for man boobs. But hey, I’m a little slow on modern lingo at this age. Apparently the up-and-coming ManCan is a stainless steel “keg-style vessel, built to be indestructible, hold CO2 pressure and protect beer from the damaging effects of light.” A glorified mini-me of a keg. The new generation of beer balls for all intents and purposes. But smaller, and more portable…like a dildo. The smaller one holds about a 6-pack and the larger one holds nearly double. It’s a decent idea with an idiotic name that chooses to alienate approximately 52% of its US market (yes, we outnumber the men as of right now). And at a time when craft beer is trending in a way that is busting ceilings, and women are becoming ever more a part of that trend, an idiotic name will cost you.

If you’re hunting for the attention of the media and crowd sourcing for funding on kickstarter.com, your first thought should be money, not gender. If that becomes an afterthought, you know what that starts to look like? A fucking afterthought. Scene 2, enter the WoManCan. That would be when you partner with Pink Boots Society (a well-meaning organization created with the intention of helping women in the beer industry, which I can’t help but roll my eyes at as well—if you are good at what you do, you’ll succeed. Your vagina is not holding you back.). What you have to love most about the afterbirth called the WoManCan is the bastardized logo on it, that lets every woman know that she is, in fact, an afterbirth in this company’s eyes. Somewhere, in a damp, funk-riddled basement, there was a “marketing team” that had that oh-shit, slap-on-the-forehead moment, and being fully aware that they lacked both the funds and creativity to rethink their branding, decided to just add some pink script to their logo, call it a day, and go toss back a frothy one.

I’d love nothing more than to be test riding this puppy right now. I’d love nothing more than to be convincing all my friends to buy one. And I’d love nothing more than to whip it out with the pride of a braggart at my next party. In fact, that’s pretty much the bar I set for dildos as well. But there is no way in hell you will ever see this beer-loving WoMan within shooting range of one of these cans because…because…well, because they just don’t know how to hit the spot.