It appears that my choice of footwear at post-MilF did not meet with the approval of all and sundry. For the record: Me and my Birks have often had socks come between us; they prove the only thing to wear after blisters form during golf, but the strap will cut into the blister if not first met sock and Band-Aid (in my case, some leftover Garfield bandages back when Littlest thought him cute.) It is all but impossible to walk otherwise.

There will be no confusing me with the NARN metrosexuals like Mitch Berg.

Lest one think that socks were the greatest debauchery of this day, however, we offer the following into evidence.



Case closed.

Labels: MOB