I’ve thought long and hard about this, so let’s get right to it: I love you boys, but I just can’t do this F3 thing any longer. Old Bay out.
I’m tired all the time. I’m sore all the time. I’m hungry all the time. I’ve had to buy smaller clothes…dumb base layers for the winter, and obnoxious tank tops for the summer. I’ve spent like $600 on a stupid back pack. A back pack. Seriously?!? Is it responsible to spend my hard-earned money drinking beers at a happy hour with men I only met a few months ago? Speaking of money, I’ve had to run through Louisville in an electric pink shirt just to raise some money for women dealing with breast cancer. Hell, I’ve felt obligated to raise money for like dozens of different people and organizations this year. And if I have to hear ONE more person in a COT say how great F3 has been for them or their job or their marriage….
I mean…
I just…
I don’t know if…
Shit, this is exactly why I do F3.
My first 3 complaints are real, however. The only cure for that is to take it to 11. Come get turnt up with me at the Mutt tomorrow.
~Old Bay
F3 Louisville 