So I was gonna post this story today about a dream I had this weekend.*
It involved indoor tennis, socialites, Wayne Gretzky, someone's living room and personal failure.
And while I was a-looking for photos -- much in the same way Elmer Fudd hunts wabbits -- to capture my imagination and in so doing capture yours, I found this:
And I don't know what kind of tennis that is. He probably doesn't either. But his belly is righteous, his tan unsafe, and his package too exposed not to share it with you anyway.
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*I still might if I remember enough of it tomorrow.
