So here’s the skin;

I’ll be the first to admit it. I’m late on the croc train. Where the hell have I been? In 6th grade all my lady friends were rocking the crocs with every article of clothing. Jeans? Crocs. Gym class? Crocs. 6th grade winter formal for your first kiss with Billy? Crocs.

I hated this. Look at those pieces of plastic that soak up your little nasty ass foot sweat all day, but this weekend… Something changed.

In the Kittery Premium Outlets up in Maine, I saw a croc outlet. Me being the guy I am, I can’t say no to at least exploring. I walked in and boom I was in heaven. Right on the wall there was my new pair of shoes — no matter the time, no matter the weather… It’s my pair of fuzzy crocs.

Go ahead. Take my Man card. Call me a pansy. Call me a traitor.

But do not call me dumb.
– Wood

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