Let’s say you’re at a softball game. This softball game is usually 7 innings long. But now we’re in the bottom of the 8th. The game is tied again, and you’ve got runners on 2nd and 3rd. Who do you want up to bat?
I can tell you who I don’t want up to bat, and that is me. I can hit the ball, but I suck at pressure situations. Which would explain why I grounded out to the fucking pitcher. Luckily, that didn’t cause us to lose. It was in the in-the-park homerun that Speedy Fucking Gonzalez bounced off our rightfielders glove. So, we lost 18-17 after 9 innings. So hardcore.
And because I know you can’t ever get enough stories about my dog, he made two new friends at the dog park tonight – Magnus and Stanley. Magnus’ owner told me lots of information about boxers (he’s a real expert, because he’s had two), including the fact that Riley will probably weigh close to 100 lbs before he’s done growing. He also told me I’m not feeding Riley enough. I’m telling Riley to tell Magnus that his dad is a douchebag next time we see them at the dog park.
The more boxers I’ve met at various pet stores and dog parks, the more I’ve realized my dog could not possibly have a gayer name than he does. But seriously, look at this face, and tell me how you could possibly have named him even anything remotely tough.