“Crawling into a fox hole – that’s one thing you’ll never have to worry about being asked to do.”

My dad said that to me once a few years back. We were watching “Forest Gump.” It was the scene set in Vietnam where he cocks his 9 millimeter pistol and dives head first into a Viet Kong tunnel.

Having seen fox holes up close, pops sounded relieved I wouldn’t. I, on the other hand, never even considered the day when it’d be my turn to crawl underground and hunt the man in the black pajamas. Never worried about it once. Also never worried about getting asked to wear a speedo, be a horse jockey or sit in the back seat of a car. That’s because when you’ve got a wide body with a pretty face, the only thing people ask you to do is help them move.

“McGuire, you’re an ox. Can you give me a hand this sweltering weekend lifting everything that’s heavy in my house into some challenging location. I’ll offer to pay you in beer but mysteriously won’t have any when you get here. In actuality, there won’t be any beverages.”