I just went to the grocery store to pick up crab legs for dinner for Robbie and I, and a fight broke out in the parking lot, and I was like, 100, 200 feet away, but I’m like, please don’t hit me. I know I look like an easy target with crab legs on one side and effortless side boob on the other. You can’t really see, but I swear it’s there, and it. And it makes me ripe for hitting. But I’m telling you, barking up the wrong tree.