Sebastian is our twelve-year-old son and he says some of the funniest things–we have no idea where he gets his material since his mother and I are rather boring, serious people.
As I was writing some tasting notes, my wife sat down to fold some laundry.
My wife: “You know what the most concerning thing is about this pile of laundry?”
Me: “No?”
My wife: “It’s about your son.”
Me: “Which one?”
My wife: “The short one (i.e., Sebastian). I see ten shirts, eight pair of shorts, two pair of long pants, eight pair of socks…and one pair of underwear.”
Sebastian, on the floor of a Walmart in Arkadelphia, Arkansas, trying to see if any basketball cards had fallen behind the shelf.
the drunken cyclist 