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I WANT TO MOW THE LAWN.

It's been fucking WEEKS of just nonstop rain here in our part of Louisiana. WEEKS. Every day there's just been a massive downpour of rain that soaks everything and makes the lawn completely unmowable. Our grass is growing wild and the weeds are getting taller than me. It SUCKS. Every time I look at the weather tracker, it's rainclouds as far as the eye can see, always stretching out into next week! And the week after! And the week after that one! PLEASE, JUST LET ME MOW! I'M BEGGING YOU! I NEED TO MOW THE LAAAAWWWWN

What you've just read is the graphic depiction of a man cursed by his bloodline, slowly mutating into a boomer-ass mid-30s dad-like person. Despite not having any children and only having a kitten named Pickle, he is ruled by his desires to mow the lawn and buy a grill for his patio. He fusses endlessly over the soundbar settings, constantly tinkering until it sounds just right, until he repeats that process again several times every month. His back hurts and he has a special beer pouring technique that he swears makes it taste better, even if it doesn't.

He is...

The Brad-Dad.

See you on Friday!