(I’m bringing back footnotes — I like them and they let my mind wander a bit. Thanks for indulging me. Now back to the comedy and confusion that is my life.)
I was getting ready for a date the other day Mint had sent me two alerts:
Over budget this month on:
I was terrified to check my DVR assuming that the latest episode of The View would be on it complete with annoying, arguing rich women who still think the world is flat. That would be more than I could take.
I needed to cut a cord of wood or lift something heavy since growing a mustache or beard is out of the question given my ethnic make-up 3. Then it hit me, I could do the one thing that makes me feel like more of a man than anything else.
I grabbed Boy #1 off the Xbox, went outside, told him a few jokes and threw the football. He went “deep” and I let ‘er rip.
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