Careful What You Ask

     The wife just said she was going to the library with one of our sons. I asked "What for?"  She said "A book."  I probably should have seen that coming.

Old, But Not Yet Stupid

The thing about having kids is you have to wait to have them so that when they beat you in sports, you can use old age as an excuse.  If you have one when you're 20, he might be kicking your butt and you're only 35.  You can't hardly claim to be an old man at that age.  The other day, my sixteen-year old smokes me in basketball and starts crowing.  I told him "Big deal, I'm almost fifty, you beat an old man."  He says "Brett Favre's an old man, what about him?"  I say, "Really, Brett Favre, that's where you want to go with this?"  He says, "Yeah, sure, why not?"  Couple days later, he asked if he could borrow the car.  I told him yes.  Then I told him no.  Then I said I needed to think about it.  I told him to come back in July and I'd have a definite answer for him.  Kids mature quicker physically than mentally.  I still have some time left.

Think Before You Act

      I had a nice column written last week about this guy who stole the Toys for Tots cash donation box off the counter at a local restaurant and ran out.  I mean this was cake, the column wrote itself about what a ground breaking scumbag this guy was.  He hurt a lot of people.  Then, the day before my deadline, the maggot goes and takes the money back, throws a donation in on top of what he took and says he'll stay if they want to call the cops.  Make up your mind, son, I've got a column to write.  The Toys for Tots people came out of this just fine, but me?  The column went right in the trash.  I just wish people would think before they act.  He hurt a lot of people.  OK, just me, but it hurt really bad.  If he'd like to come over to the house and make a donation, in the spirit of Christmas, I'll even take a check.

Lucy, You Got Some Splaining To Do

     I think the Mrs. and I are heading towards Lucy and Ricky beds.  I love our king bed and I love our electric blanket on a cold night, but when Momma gets warm, she throws the blankets off of her and onto me, which makes the electric blanket  less of a Linus fantasy and more of a life size toaster oven.  I usually wake up when my internal temperature reaches that of lava.

Columbus was Lucky

     Spent this whole chilly day sitting at my desk working on the Christmas newsletter, bills, my column and snacking on junk.  You don't even need time lapse photography to see my butt getting flatter and wider.  If I had been around in 1492, Columbus would've sailed right off the edge of my ass and died on my office floor.

I Never Really Liked That Guy

     I just saw that financial advisor commercial where the guy is sitting in his seat in coach on a plane when his future self comes back from his seat in first class and visits with him for a minute, before heading back to first class and leaving him there.  I'm always left wondering just how big of a butt-chop you have to be to not even want to sit with yourself.  If I were the guy in coach, I'd clean out the savings account and head to Vegas.

But Did You Like the Column?

     I had two people write me about today's column, both about my improper grammar when I began the second sentence with "Me and the boys..." as opposed to "The boys and I..."  The second one went so far as to say it was a travesty.  When you have this much time on your hands, daylight savings time must be a real kick in the crotch.  I think they should use some of their time to do volunteer work.  At the gun range.  As targets.  Me and the boys would like that.

Rest and Plenty of Fluids

     The teenager was sick and stayed home from school today.  The doctor said for him to get plenty of rest and fluids.  At 3:30pm, he was still asleep from the night before.  I figured that covered the rest requirement.  Just so he could get an equally proportional amount of fluids, I ran the garden hose through his window and duct taped it to his mouth.

The Death of Dandy Don

     Don Meredith died today.  To my generation of sports fans, he is the one who made Monday Night Football bearable when the whole world was writing checks to fund the research and development of the "mute" button in order to be able to silence Howard Cosell on demand.

I Don't See a Rematch

     I went out to the golf course today and met a guy on the driving range.  We decided to play together.  He was wearing tennis shoes and jeans and said he'd only played a few times.  We worked out a bet just to make it interesting and I gave him five strokes a side to make the bet fair.  He beat me straight up without the strokes.  I paid him and, just to show him there was no hard feelings, I gave him three more strokes.  With my four-iron.  He's buried in a shallow grave behind the eighteenth green.

Humpty Lundquist?

     This has been bugging me all year.  Every time I see CBS Sports announcer Verne Lundquist, I just have this feeling I've been seeing him somewhere else, like it was right under my nose.  Sure enough, I walk back to the kids' bedroom hallway, and hanging right there in front of me is Verne's baby picture.  The wife says that's some dude named "Humpty Dumpty," but until I see a blood test, I'm sticking with Verne.

Do it and die

The carpet cleaners just left.  I just know the dog is scouting for a spot to drench as soon as I turn my back.  I can't have this.  I went and got a stuffed dog from the kids' room and my cordless drill.  I took the dog back to the previous site of her self-dedicated indoor plumbing and drilled a hole in the stuffed dog's head.  She looks like she got the message, but she might be playing me.  Hard to say at this point.

Humor is Everywhere

If you know where to look, and how to look, humor is everywhere, even in death.  A while back, a guy in our golf group died.  We decided his ashes should be spread in a divot.  So, yeah, it's not fall over dead laughing funny, but it's still funny.