Who are you?

Will and I have been trying to down-size the extra stuff that we have. Not the "stuff" in our pants, 'cause you know...with wild fire season coming up in California, the fire departments are going to be needing all the guys with really big ones to help put out all the fires. And seeing how there's only 4 or 5 of us in the entire state with hoses this big, we can't really be down-sizing that stuff anytime soon.

No need to thank us, it's the least we can do. We're just trying to keep California safe.

See? I know that it's probably more than you wanted to see of my privs. But, when we went through training last week, it took like 5 or 6 guys to hold onto it, otherwise it would've just gone flying all over the place and that would've been extremely uncomfortable.

You can't see me because I'm out of frame, but I'm back there smoking a cigarette. And I bet you didn't believe me...Do you have any idea how much beer we need to drink to achieve this result? Lots.

Okay, back to the original story. The extra "stuff" that we have that we don't need happens to be a lot. So, we've been gradually going through things to give away to the rescue mission. Because I'm sure that someone homeless is going to really want one of our old surfboards or coffee tables to lug around on their grocery cart.

The other day Will turned to me dusting off an object and said, "You don't want this baton, do you?"

And I just looked at him like he was speaking complete craziness and incredulously I replied, "Do I want that baton? Do I want that baton?? What the hell??? That's just crazy-talk. For Christ's sake, I'm a 38 year old man..."

"OF COURSE I WANT THAT BATON!!! WHAT ARE YOU??? MUCHO LOCO???"

Do I want that baton...

I swear, sometimes it's like he doesn't even know me.