for inexplicable reasons, whenever i hear the bell-like ting of someone climbing into the hamock, i look out the window. pavlovian, i guess. or maybe my wretching is the closest thing to a situp that i want to muster.
lately coppertone has taken to not wearing trunks, and instead scrunching up the tiger stripped loin cloth and doing only the most basic cover up. today, more ballsy than ever, he went sans umbrella, sans pants. i looked too quickly and accidentally saw something out of a medical textbook. when will i learn to stop looking out the window?!
i am on my way to menards to buy an eyewash.