My fiance’s home is a true man-cave. But when I moved in, I didn’t say, “That awful elk head has to go!” Nope. Not me. I embraced it, and the animal skulls, shotguns, walrus genitalia, and the terrifying stuffed turkeys, too. I was determined to keep my man’s decorating style intact. Well, you know how they say “the road to Hell is paved with good intentions”? So is the road to the emergency room. For full, funny details of my misadventures in man-cave land, read my latest column on The Huffington Post. De-Man Cave or Un-Man Cave. That is the Question. And feel free to leave me a comment out there. Thanks!