The World Series was a compelling watch this year. Stellar pitching, clutch hitting, and a remarkable showcase of human spitting. How these men conjure an endless stream of saliva for four hours baffles me.
Of course, with tobacco no longer en vogue due to its frightening potential of making your face cave in, the boys have turned to seeds. No, throwing in a dip of Wintergreen Kodiac isn’t salubrious, but I’m doubtful consuming a bag glorified salt licks every day makes the heart say “thank you.”
To be sure, ballplayers used to go to their doctors and inquire if dip was hurting them. I’m wondering what the doc says when they ask about their seed-eating habit.
Well, let’s see here, Jose. You’ve sucked on and ingested a bag of sunflower seeds every day for the last six months, and have done this every year since you were 19. Now that you’re 35, you’ve probably eaten over 2,500 bags of sunflower seeds, which means you’ve achieved a lifetime of sodium intake in 16 years. Let’s check your blood pressure and pray salt doesn’t start spraying out of your orifices.
‘Tis the season for stomach bugs. I’m not sure there’s anything more frightening for a young family. One kid starts yakkin’ and within eight minutes your whole crew is aligned at the toilet. Then it’s 48 hours of Gatorade, Lysol and wet wipes.
After your kid has had the bug, the discomfort continues when you have to explain to other parents why your child is no longer quarantined.
“Oh, I heard your little girl had the stomach bug. Is she feeling better?”
“Oh yeah, she got it all out of her system. Doc says it’s no longer contagious. Principal welcomed her back to school. And we have a sworn affidavit from the CDC that she’s safe to touch your kid.”
It must be less than 40 days to Christmas because every car on TV has a big red bow on it. Is is just me or has this campaign been going for 20 years? Who is still positively responding to this ad and getting excited about dropping 60 grand at Christmas?
I suppose I’m simple. For Christmas, I may treat myself to a pair of khakis or an ice scraper for my windshield. This practicality feels good. Wearing pants and seeing the road are vital to my success as a human. When considering a little something for me, things like “boat,” “pool,” and “car” just don’t come to mind.
And what cruel, crazy person is gifting something like a car to their spouse? Honey, I got you a new Benz! I just thought, what better way to celebrate this season of materialism than with the gift of back-crippling debt?
In case anyone reading this is getting ideas, I’ll tell you straight up what would bring me joy when I look out my window this Christmas morning: my same old unshiny Ford Taurus and a pile of freshly raked leaves. Now that is a good Dad gift.