my #streamteam june

Can we talk about crying for a minute? I am a top-notch Olympic crier, but I am also world class ashamed about it.

Like if I am moved to tears watching something in public, I fuh-reeze. I become a crying possum. I just let the tears do their thing until my face is a Seattle windowpane then pull my sweater down over my fists and do a lightning fast face-wipe like "NOT TEARS. Fuck you, YOU'RE crying."

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Your Pops

My sweet bubs,

As of today, we’ve been together 271 days. I figure, by now, you know me pretty well. Lately you think I love, LOVE, being rib-kicked and cervically headbutted as soon as I crawl into bed. I can actually watch your foot as it rears back to give a good boot. Don’t think I haven’t been tempted to carve a small hole with a paring knife into my guts to grab your foot and say “EEEENOUGH.” But I love you. And I don’t fancy any home surgery, so I just watch and wince and hope to Christ you don’t get any stronger over the next 12 days.

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Your Pops

My sweet bubs,

As of today, we’ve been together 271 days. I figure, by now, you know me pretty well. Lately you think I love, LOVE, being rib-kicked and cervically headbutted as soon as I crawl into bed. I can actually watch your foot as it rears back to give a good boot. Don’t think I haven’t been tempted to carve a small hole with a paring knife into my guts to grab your foot and say “EEEENOUGH.” But I love you. And I don’t fancy any home surgery, so I just watch and wince and hope to Christ you don’t get any stronger over the next 12 days.

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