The Fashion Herald and I are planning on hitting THIS later on today (if any fans wanna come meet me that's where I'll be, you'll recognize me cause I'll have my tongue down random chick's throats) and a very pregnant FH wavering cause of the heat reminds me of when I wasn't allowed to play jv football in 8th grade because my mother was 8 months pregnant at the time and refused to sit in the baking sun picking me up from practice. Actually, that would be Brothatime!! the year before - the following year I wasn't allowed to play because me parents found it inconceivable to let me play when Brothatime!! hadn't been able to. Welcome to the world of growing up attached to a hip. Grrr.
I was pissed about it at the time, but now with my own relationship with the heat, I understand, and am pretty sure the same conversation with my own son one day will go like this:
"Dad, I wanna play jv football! I wanna lay some dudes out, crack some skulls!!!"
"Oh god...it's so hot outside...ugh...I'd hafta pick you up outside everyday, might hafta wait 3, 4 minutes in the heat..."
"Well. The dick-sucking team practices inside in the a/c."
"You've got your mother's jaw, where do we sign you up?"
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