It’s getting close to summer here in Phoenix, when you can fry an egg in your pants just by walking outside (this is why I no longer trust IHOP). Because of this, I’m forced to take my post-lunchtime walk across the street in the air-conditioned confines of our local mall. It’s a pleasant, comfortable walk as long as you can avoid the assholes selling helicopters and are able to mentally block out the sight of unfortunate ass-crack. Seriously, what is with all the ass-crack? If you’re so big that you can’t find pants large enough to cover your ass-crack, you need to run over to a sporting goods store and buy a god damn tent because no one who isn’t being paid in some capacity should ever have to see that shit. Continue reading