Saturday evening, after consuming a few adult beverages, I made the decision to text someone a picture of a man riding a shark. I didn’t know if such a picture would exist, but I had high hopes.
Those hopes were not disappointed. Googling “man riding shark” yields quite a few results, and there, on the first page, was this one.
Perfect. I saved it to my camera roll.
Armed and ready, I then racked my brain for who most deserved to receive this picture. I wanted it to be someone I hadn’t talked to in a while who might—key word, there: “might”—find it amusing.
I chose the former coworker of mine to whom I’d previously sent multiple texts reading: “Steve Irwin: the white Tupac” a little more than a year ago.
He responded almost immediately, and has followed up twice since then. Needless to say, he is confused:
Got him.
