Got It Good, Got It #$*&ing Good

I’ve got it on good advice that I’d screamed good and loud when that goddamned bottle bounced off my foot. I’m also told I was a hero for not letting the bottle shatter on the cement right there next to the pool. It could have been an awful mess what with glass sprayed all over and everyone all barefoot. So, it’s with a sense of belated, bloated ego-puffing heroism that I send you to Dave Hill’s column on his Tourette afflicted neighborhood hot dog cart man. A fella who I apparently, inadvertently mimicked out by the pool late, late one steamy Florida night last week.