It’s official. Jay Floyd is a dad. Now, swallowing the statement, “Heather Floyd (Jay’s bride) is a mom.” is a little easier, or, paletteable, as, Heather is a classy gal, with a general niceness and concern to/of those around her.

But Jay, man, it’s just…I mean….Jay Floyd?

I can’t even begin to tell you how many altercations I’ve “just about been mixed up in” with this guy while we were out on the town. Jay’s got a mouth, and he ain’t afraid to put it to use. I’ve wanted to “kill him dead” on many occasions. He’s hit me in the balls a number of times, to varied results. Shit. One time—driving West out to Oregon—I fell asleep in the back of a rig while Jay and the rest were “getting liquored up” for a long haul across Nebraska. And then I woke up, to find Jay driving. Yeesh. That same trip I just about burnt his clutch out during my turn at the wheel. To this day, “I smell clutch!” warms both of our hearts. Ah, the memories.

Here’s to hoping this little angel makes this guy a respectable citizen for once. A tall order, indeed.