We're back. We even got the clap right on time. It's the dead cast. I'm true. That's wrong. How do you feel wrong to be back? Feel good. Look great. It's just all, it's all coming together for me, man. Oh, you sound fresh as a daisy. Did you get colored? Did you get some color while you were on big? I did. Some of me turned a weird shade of pink and, uh, some of me got covered in freckles. So, yeah, those are colors,

I guess. Solid. I'm not an outdoor. I mean, like, I like being outside. I just, my, my body

does not respond well. I saw you, I watched you play broomball in, like, Cole Hahn shoes. I know you're

not. I'm at the age now where I, if I, if I get even like a trace of

melanin in my skin, my wife looks at me like, you need to go to dermatologist. You're going to die.

Like it used to be like, it used to be like, ooh, you got color. You look so healthy. And now it's like,

oh, you got color. Yeah. But that's, some of that also may be a

wife thing. Because like, I remember my, at, when we were at the Jersey Shore, my wife was

extremely scandalized by all the like deeply brown middle age men that were there. Like all these

guys that like, not only would they not wear sunblock. Like they have like some complicated Alex Jones' ass opinion on Sunblock. And like, so it's like a political statement that they would never wear it. But they just looked like deep fried. Well, they like the Italian dads with like sort of the hot pants. Yeah. And like the insane beer gut, like the beer gut that looks like a fucking yoga ball, like grafted. They're all shiny. They look like they swallow the physio ball. It's really remarkable. Just about to give birth to a fucking yoke, like a hippity hop. I respect that a lot, though, because that's a look. Like, none of those guys are out there, like, being self-conscious or anything like that.

Like, they're just going to roll up on the beach looking like, as my brother-in-law said,

looking like samosas and just fucking owning their stretch of it.

By the way, I have a Papa John story for you.

While we were away, I took my kids to Harper's Ferry in West Virginia Virginia and, uh, and we went to some train museum or whatever. It doesn't fucking matter. No one cares. And so we were on the way back and they were hungry and so we need to get something to eat. But I didn't want to get them like chicken nuggets and fries because they had already eaten that like at every meal for like a fucking week. So we go, we pull into a shopping center and the only thing there, I swear to God, is a Papa Johns. And they're like, Papa Johns! And I'm like, shit. And I'm like, fine. We'll get the racist pizza. And we go in and we order the pizza. And there's nowhere to sit because it's a Papa Johns. It's like dominoes. Right. They want you to leave. Yeah. They're not like, you don't want to stay here. This place isn't hell. Get the, I'd leave if I could. You have to go. So they get the pizza. And it takes like 15 minutes for them to make a pizza, which I worked at Little Caesars once. It takes three minutes to run pizza through like the car wash oven.

Well, but what if you were using better ingredients to make better pizza?

Right.

So whatever, they run through the fucking car wash oven.

They give it to us the pepper and chini and all that sad shit and we're eating it in the car

and they also

somehow they were giving

out free car magnets

and my son

...