This is my place for Uninsightful Adolescent Ramblings. If anyone actually finds it, reads it, and heaven forbid, makes a comment on it, I'll be very surprised.
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Oh about 10 or 11 years ago I was roped into umpiring my son's minor league game.
As the only umpire, I was calling balls and strikes from just behind the pitcher when a harmless little fart made his presence known, but turned out to be significantly juicier than expected. Fortunately the pitch was a credible strike three, the third out, and I waddled like a scalded penguin, clenching my butt cheeks together, to the porta-potty past right field.
click to enlarge
My briefs were a loss, but fortunately they did their job in saving the pants. I cleaned up as best I could and went out to finish the game -- with twenty-odd eight-year-olds and as many parents staring at my ass looking for a stain, no doubt.
