Went to Louisiana this weekend (think I saw Jake and his mangled hand lol) on Saturday for a piss poor Father's Day thing with the in-laws courtesy of my wife dragging me saying it was in commemoration of her father and myself (only two dads that stuck around). Turns out it was her sisters kissing the old man's ass I guess before he kicks the bucket whenever that may be. They (the sisters) gave speeches of how great he was and how he had always been there despite all the horror stories I've heard them all say. So nobody mentioned me, they even said 'no father out there could be better, or have done more for their kids'... I beg to differ and my son got up and clarified some stuff on the low low with some clever jabs and thanked me for not being a dead beat dad... Ouch! Know that one hurt a lot of the fam lol. So I picked up the Caddi on Friday evening, got up at 4am drove to the shitfest and stayed up till 1am, then left at 6am the following day got back by 1pm and kept dozing off last night watching the game. I'm debating if I can hit the gym and it not affect me negatively later, or if I can muster enough whoop ass to kill it and move on. I'm gonna head towards the gym and call it enroute. When I don't go it feels so wrong, but a crap workout is best left on the shelf imo... we shall see. Wish me luck.
