Last winter vacation, I tried something I hadn't attempted before in my adult life.

I tried to grow a beard and mustache. You know, Grizzly Adams-style.

I don't know why I chose to do this. Maybe it was because I was feeling adventurous, feeling that I needed to do something crazy. Something that would make people notice me.

About a month or two later, I had grown one, except it didn't turn out the way I had hoped. To say the least, I didn't look anything like Grizzly Adams. There was no frothy beard or bristling forest above my mouth. Instead, as my friends would point out, I ended up with a "pedobeard and crustache combo."

I reluctantly shaved and vowed to never try growing facial hair again. But as the year progressed, I began to tempt with fate for a second time. I thought maybe being a year older meant that I could finally grow a beard, and perhaps get food stuck on my chin.

Hell, I hoped that I could stop looking like a 13-year-old boy.

Yet as this recent winter break dragged itself onward and my beard grew like a scattered field of saw grass, all hope seemed lost. I thought I would never become a real man like Arnold Schwarzenegger or Sylvester Stallone. I would never woo the ladies, I feared, with my masculinity or inability to speak English coherently.

Then one day, as I was watching a football game and looking through an issue of Sports Illustrated, I heard this song coming from the television speakers:

"I gotta get up early, I gotta be on time. I've got to go bust it, man, I got to go get mine."

"I am that kinda guy... And I want a piece of that American pie."

What were these heavenly lyrics? Why did they sound so profound and true?

"I put a lot of sweat into the job at hand. You can count on me, I am a.... workin' man!"

I began to feel the sensation you get when you know you're watching something truly inspiring. You know, something that would change your view of life...forever.

"So when it's quitting time, and you've had enough, I'm still good to go, baby, 'cause I'm built Ford tough."

At this point I'm pretty sure I broke down and cried. Finally, someone had revealed to me what a man was really all about. Big cars and working overtime.

For all of you who haven't yet heard this gospel, it is none other than Toby Keith's "I Am A Workin' Man," which can be heard on a slew of Ford truck commercials. Who knew that Toby Keith, of all people, would have the answers to all my problems?

I'll admit that until this time I had been receiving advice from the Men of the Square Table, courtesy of Miller Lite Beer. Although they were teaching me a wealth of information with their "Man Laws," especially about how to treat beer and women who tried to interfere with my beer, their advice didn't expand to other regions of my social life.

For instance, their "Man Laws" taught me to never put a slice of fruit in my beer, but what about learning how to cope with rejection or a dead-end job? I mean, yeah, knowing that one should never break plans with your friends over a girl is nice, but what about getting the girl in the first place?

Not only that, but do they expect us to remember these laws? I have trouble enough remembering the 10 Commandments and our Bill of Rights, but now I have to remember which end of the bottle to clink when toasting?

In case you were wondering, it's the butt end.

Another thing that turned me away from the Men of the Square Table was the men of the Square Table. Am I really supposed to trust the words of a pro-wrestler, a former NFL player, a B-list actor and Burt Reynolds? I sure hope not.

But a country singer who drives Ford trucks? I can live with that.

In addition, Keith was able to put his advice into song, which means that I can sing along to it while I'm at the gym lifting weights.

By the way, I'm pretty sure lifting weights while singing a song about your masculinity has got to be the manliest thing you can do next to spearing a deer or something.

So for those of you who can't grow the facial hair, or who just have a knack for looking like you still belong in junior high, fear not. There are other ways of proving your manhood; it's just going to cost you $36,225 and a second job.

Reach columnist Eric Uthus at ericuthus@thedaily.washington.edu