Updated: Post Vacation Report Number 2. There Seemed To Be A Bit Of A Pattern Developing Last Weekend.

So as it turned out I found myself amongst some athletic supporters on the last couple days of my vacation:

Strength. Honor. And very thinly disguised sado-masochistic homosexual pornography.

Not that there's anything wrong with that, but it's not really my scene. I decided to leave, but I soon sensed trouble:

I managed to make it out of the arena, but was then faced with this as my primary mode of transportation home:

I swear I am not making any of this up. It's a real taxi company. Associated Taxi. I am not kidding. I actually think it might be fun to come up with some sort of formal definition of "ass taxi." Like if you say to someone, "My God he acted like such as ass taxi" what exactly would that mean?

I walked back to my condo, and will never believe anyone who ever tries to tell me sports are not gay ever again.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Update 9/24- Here's a better look at how non-gay wrestlers are for the commenter who said they couldn't make out the earlier picture:

I also had songs about the ass taxi going through my head pretty much throughout this workday. Little songs that I would write and then could not get out of my head. The most common was a bluesy-type number, think music similar to "Crossroads" by Cream:

You can ride the ass taxi baby/
you can ride it all night long/
I said you can ride the ass taxi baby/
you can ride it allllll night long/
but when you ride my ass taxi baby/
you know you just can't go wrong....

That's what was going through my head as I was filling people's prescriptions. Exactly where the key change should be in my song about the ass taxi.

I've managed to hold on to this job for almost 20 years now. It really would be a good song I think.