Get off my lawn....
Summer is here in all its bug-zapping glory and once again I am not happy about it. I despise everything about summer except the part when it’s late at night and the stars are out and you can sit alone on your porch with a cold beer and just sort of wander inside your own head and contemplate life’s vagaries. But invariably even nice little moments like this get ruined by mosquitoes or skunks or the smell of patchouli or an unannounced tornado or asshole neighbors shooting off bottle rockets because they cannot handle their Miller Lites, especially after years of drinking nothing but Bud Light, which had been turning them gay the entire time without their knowledge. In the summer, Bros who are already insufferable become really insufferable, and knowing I have 3 months of them revving their engines at stop lights like they are James Dean reincarnated is enough to break me.
Also, these summer Bros will be wearing sandals. Or even worse, flip flops. I’ve made myself clear on this point many times. I will list when it is acceptable for a guy to wear sandals or flip flops in public.
Never