My dad came to visit once. He’s a shoes off kind of guy. Pretty diligent about it too. Problem is, he just doesn’t like wearing them anywhere. Sure go stand in my half mud yard and smoke a cigar and then walk right back into my kitchen.

We decided to show him around the area. Drive out to the coast. Leaving the car, “Dad you might want your shoes.” Get to the beach, as we’re strong into the sand, he stops, “I think I should put my shoes on.”

I fucking died.

All this to say, if you’re shoes off, make sure everyone is shoes on outside.

That last line, I’m going to leave it, but it doesn’t make sense.

But I’m also soft and weak.

I want to believe that they are, but they don’t have to worry about working long hours sitting on their asses. They get to make millions while paying a personal trainer and traveling the world.

I sit on my ass and eat. At this point I think my 7 year old could best me in fisticuffs.

Try the gray stuff! It’s delicious!