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Old guys

Little League Opening Day ceremonies don’t start until 11am, so the boy and I bolted to Dunkin for munchkins and my coffee refuel. There’s a big group of old guys at the table next to us. I’m sure they meet here every Sunday. They’re breaking each other’s balls and talking too loud and reading the newspapers. I hope when I’m an old guy I have a Sunday morning old guy posse. I want to be the one in the fish bucket hat and sweatpants.

Is it just me?

I feel like I’m being punked. I am being subjected to such an overwhelming amount of stupidity, I wonder if there’s a camera ready to jump out at me and say “we gotcha, buddy!” 

This isn’t aimed at one person in particular, it’s just…stuff.

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