Crosby is her father's daughter

The family was walking home from the grocery store and we saw a bird. The following exchange took place:

Laura: "Look guys, a bird."
Guy: "A bird, a bird!"
Crosby: "I am going to grab it"
Laura: "No, that's not kind, that will hurt the bird."
Me: "Yeah, uh, we aren't going to do that, uh, will probably fly away soon anyway"
Guy: "Don't hurt bird!"
Crosby: "Yeah, Guy,  don't hurt the bird, we love the birds"
Me: "Uhh, didn't..."
Crosby (confidently): "Guy said he was going to grab the bird, I told him not to."
Me: "Oh ok, yeah Guy, let's be nice to the bird."

Count Me Out: Balsamic

(disclaimer: "Count me out" is not intended to offend anyone, it is simply a way to proclaim that whatever activity or item being discussed is NOT FOR ME, COUNT ME OUT!)

I was at Lunch Club last week and the usual "what did you bring?" went around. One of my cohorts declared their balsamic salad dressing and became, for some, the belle of the ball. The club fawned over the dressing as if it was sent from above. I, a reasonable person, on the other hand, quickly proclaimed "fuck that". And I said that because balsamic sucks ass.

"Well do you not like balsamic or balsamic vinaigrette?", the hipster asked. Well, I do not know or care to know the difference, it is all equally terrible. It may have been trendy in 2k5 to eat balsamic, but the ruse is over. Balsamic is horrible, always has been ,always will be. Balsamic, be it in a pure form or a vinaigrette, is Satan's milk. Seriously, it makes me sick that so many people choose associating with balsamic over actually improving themselves. We have one life on this Earth, stop wasting your time pretending you like a trendy dressing and live your life. 

After all, the true test of a dressing is whether or not you would dip a french fry in it. Obviously, no one would ever dip a beautiful, crispy french fry into millennial garbage such as balsamic. We want Ranch! We want Honey Mustard! Hell, we will take some Russian/French! Anything except balsamic vinaigrette.

At a fantasy baseball draft, gonna throw some thoughts out and call it content

1) Having a blast
2) Just spent big on Ohtani
3) Gonna crack another cold one
4) this is crappy content
5) something good coming
6) Chad ordered pizza including Dominos® Garlic Knots®, v good
7)Got my all time favorite player, Miggy
8) None of you all give a fuck
9) This content is low, may not improve
10) Greg Holland is a free agent
11) Just cracked an Oberon, a 2k17 Oberon
12) Will be in Ireland on 2k18 Oberon day, ice some of them MFs for me
13) Wondering if keeping Joe Panik was a good move
14) This is horrible content
15) SMDH
16) IDFK
17) low on content
18) ready for the haters
19) got my fave player ever, Miggy, hope you all are happy for me but you are not
20) can't stand the haters

The DMs after yetserday's post

I acknowledge that last night's content for ConLent (So Steamed- Shout Spray) was not the best. In fact, it was extremely weak. Ok, fine, it was fucking horrible. But I did tell you all that blogging every day during Lent would produce some low lows. Despite my warning, the DMs, primarily from the haters, blew up after last night's ConLent disaster. Here are a few of the "best" from last night:

"Severely stupid shit!"
-A hater

"Doing laundry? Eat a Tide Pod while you're at it!"
-A hater

"I hope u go 2 jail 4 bad content."
-A youthful hater

"Fake news! #MAGA"
-A Russian Bot hater

"Eric, you ok? Call me."
-My Mom, not a hater

So steamed- Shout Spray

Strawberry season sows serious stains. Shout spray squirts so slowly. So steamed.

What is with the jams, man?, A Guest Blog by Guy Thomas Proctor

Every morning Pops takes me and Cros to school in the van. And every morning we all have to decide what jams we are going to blast on the way. You would think this would be the type of deal where everyone gets to pick equally, but it always breaks against ya boy.

It all starts with Pops frantically shouting that whoever gets their car seat straps hooked up first gets to pick the first song. How unfair is that? Crosby has two years of practice on me, how about I beat Steph in ball too while I am at it, Pops? Next thing ya know, Crosby has convinced Pops to turn up her favorite song, "If You Love Me Let Me Goooo!" (editor: "This Is Gospel" by Panic!at the Disco). That song is too heavy for that time in the morning, bros, hittin' my a.m. sensibilities so hard.

Seriously, picture this guys, here I am politely requesting Thomas the Train theme song over and over while Pops and Cros are rocking out to this noise that Pops rudely refers to as "real music". By the time it's my turn, the excuses start, "oh sorry buddy I do not have Thomas right now" or "I am driving and can't change the song right now", so Crosby's playlist (wish I had one of those) plays on and on. On the off chance I do finally get some Daniel Tiger theme song poppin', it is over in one minute. Shouldn't I get a few repeat plays since that other stuff takes forever? Nah, bro, not in this musical dictatorship.

I want to start an online petition on this site, but I see some blueberries and that is my cue to sign off. But until next time, if you see Pops, tell him I know that Thomas the Train has multiple soundtracks readily available on Amazon Music and that if I do not hear them soon, Mom just might find out about the lackluster job he did brushing my teeth last night.


PEACE.

Guy Thomas Proctor is a two year old maniac and occasional contributor to this site.

Gift Basket Protocol

Treatment providers often drop off gift baskets for our staff at work, a kind gesture that I very much enjoy. Unfortunately, I am usually in court when the gift basket is discovered. Typically I receive a text message announcing the gift basket and spend the rest of the morning fretting over what is in the gift basket and what will be left  by the time I get back. Sometimes I reach the point of physical sickness due to worry in these situations.

*heart eyes emoji*

Is the first person on the gift basket scene going to mindlessly eat all of the chocolate covered raisins? Will they open a jar of black bean salsa and leave it open, un-refrigerated? These questions and thousands more like it keep me awake at night. I cannot put into words the toll this is taking on myself and my family. So, readers, please read, learn, memorize, and practice the following action-plan for whenever you are a gift basket first responder:

1. Gently remove all items from the gift basket and take a picture of each item.
2. Send each picture to a group text of everyone who has a valid claim to the gift basket.
3. Have each person rank each item in terms of which they want the most.
4. Produce an aggregate and distribute an appropriate portion to each person based on their desires.
5. Roll up and clip any remaining bagged items.
6. Refrigerate any perishable items.

It is that easy guys.

An Invitaion

YOU'RE INVITED 

Who: myself and some yet-to-be-named hungry af others
What: A plethora of delicious, nutritious seafood selections
When: IDFK
Where: Frisch's Big Boy® new Hot Seafood Bar®

RSVP, Regrets Only.

Five Sentence Story #9

A couple of the boys said they could not pregame the wine event, so I asked a couple other boys if they wanted to kick back some cold ones before the wine event. Me and those boys hit the chain-German-brewery-concept-restaurant-happy-hour so hard; pilsners and hefes flowing, boys enjoying. I bid those boys farewell and rendezvoused with the other boys at the wine event, where we basically put the whole event on notice that we were the boys and we were not messing around. The boys did not win the wine event, but the boys did not care, we (the boys) were all about the fun. I woke up the next day and hit the boys up in a group text, "fun timez,  need 2 hydrate", the boys replied, but I am keeping those replies to myself, respecting the boys' privacy.

A quick, vulgar thought on the NCAA

So the NCAA, an organization that has turned a blind eye to domestic violence, sexual assault, and academic fraud, feels the need to single out U of L and vacate wins, including the 2013 Men's Basketball National Championship. These assholes want to pretend we live in an alternate universe wherein a series of basketball games played and won by U of L simply did not happen. Well, NCAA, I have a fucking DVD of the National Championship game and a piece of the god damn floor it was played on and you pricks cannot take either of those things away from me. You want the physical banner from the rafters of the YUM Center, fine, take it, and SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS!