I think my children need an upgrade, a trade in.
If I were an airline, they see themselves up at the front of the plane.
I’m in the back row in the isle seat, right beside the shitters.
The seat won’t recline, people are falling on me all the time and everything stinks.
Essentially I’m the most uncomfortably embarassing person alive.
I like this role.
Yesterday at the barn it was hot.
It was more humid.
Either way, after half an hour on Eddie’s back I was drenched.
No. It wasn’t raining. It was sweat.
I’m a sweaty wetty dude.
Really sweaty. I just need to look at the temperature outside on a hot day and need to change my underpants.
That’s the worst part of being really sweaty. It’ one thing to have large watermarked armpits. It’s another to have a moist chest or a damp back, but when you sweat so heavily it looks like you’ve pissed your pants? That’s a whole ‘nuther level of sweaty dude.
I threatened to take off my shirt and pull a Putin. This was met by a chorus of nervous laughter. …