Grumpy is going to the Birds


Grumpy is going to the Birds

AAAAAAAAAAAAbirdfeederEvery time Grumpy sits before his laptop – right before his eyes  – he has the one scene that makes his winter bearable. Suspended from the Gazebo frame, and just outside the patio doors, hang his bird feeders.

It doesn’t matter that his yard is windblown and snow-covered. It doesn’t matter that it’s cold enough to freeze the nuts off the Burlington Skyway Bridge. What does matter is the scene that unfolds where numerous bird species vie for supremacy and ultimately a flitting but satisfying feed of seed.  Believe me, there is more action out on Grumpy’s deck than there is at a single’s bar on a Saturday night and ten times the commotion.

All the while, Grumpy constantly makes runs to Crappy Tire to purchase huge bags of bird seed and that stuff they call suet which is so precisely molded into cakes. His personal favorite is the seedy suet that attracts woodpeckers and flickers. Keeping those little beggars from rat-a-tatting their bills into his metal chimney is a bonus that keeps Grumpy from pulling his hair out.

Just this morning, while eating his breakfast, Grumps watched the Blue Jays fighting their daily battle, while the Juncos and Wrens slipped in to steal away with the much sought after food. The doves waddled about the ground picking over the leftovers jettisoned from the crowded feeders. Cardinals stood waiting on the periphery, waiting for their chance to grab a wholesome snack. Grumpy laughed out loud in response to their collective antics. He was one with the world.

And then, a peculiar notion hit him like a big Mack Truck.

He had one of those eureka moments.

He glanced down at his whole-grained multi-grain bagel, then peered at his bowl of granola mixed yogurt with nuts and exclaimed, “All I do is eat seeds and grain and granola these days. My, God, I’m turning into a bird!” Then glancing down at his midriff he added, “No, I’m turning into BIG BIRD!”

A quick Google search revealed that there is a word to describe his new eating preferences. Grumpy is now granivorous!

That’s right – GRANIVOROUS!

The good news is that he isn’t within the realm of any of these other types of eaters.

merdivorous – dung-eating

phthirophagous – lice-eating

rhypophagy – eating filth

pagophagia – eating trays of ice to help offset iron deficiency

That last one sounds more like Mrs. Grumpy who takes the ice from her drinking glass and crunches the cubes into consumable bits not unlike those woodpeckers who rat-a-tat on Grumpy’s chimney.

Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!

Now, if Grumpy could mold ice into suit cakes he’d surely solve another one of his problems –noisy ice crunching.

When Grumpy put his mind to it, he realized he was not suffering from allotriophagy (craving for strange foods). No, this penchant for seeds and grains was a behavior mode logically instituted by him. This was his pathway to health, happiness and lower cholesterol. This is his new diet – Dr. Oz, thank you very much.

As the Whole Grains Council states:

  “Studies show that eating whole grains instead of refined grains lowers the risk of many chronic diseases. While benefits are most pronounced for those consuming at least 3 servings daily, some studies show reduced risks from as little as one serving daily. The message: every whole grain in your diet helps!”

http://wholegrainscouncil.org/whole-grains-101/what-are-the-health-benefits

Only three servings, they say?

Grumpy must be having at least 10 (TEN) servings a day given the grain stock held within Grumpy Villas cupboards. He forages in those cupboards with granivorous glee! They are jammed packed with whole grains like bulging Grain Elevators in Saskatchewan.

A quick inventory revealed these items, many of which the Grumps consumes daily.

Special K Granola (LOW FAT)

Cheerios (Hearty Oat) Full of oat fibre.

Lifestyle Blueberry Brown Sugar Cookies (WITH FLAX)

Multi Grain Melba Toast

All Bran Bars

Tostito Multi Grain Scoops

Country Harvest Ancient Grains (100% whole Grain Bread)

And friends, there were so many more examples.

Grumpy remembers when his mother, Hellfire Helen, resorted to only two such products – to “keep things moving” as it were. Grumpy can tell you this; his house on Dumfries Street was well stocked with Bran Flakes and Metamucil.

AAAALOMONDBut, in our house, there is a whole grain seed/nut type product that tops all of the others mentioned above. Not only are the Grumpy’s addicted to Double-Bubble Bubble Gum, we are also addicted to ALMONDS. You see as birds, we are more like Macaws than we are like Finches. You can take that Niger seed and put it where the sun don’t shine, fella!

Our nuts are BIG – well at least our preference for them is.

Our penchant for almonds makes Rob Ford’s crack habit seem juvenile. The Grumpy’s have actually had conversations like this.

Mrs. GRUMPY: “Isn’t there another bag of almonds in the cupboard?”

GRUMPY: “Ya, I think so – right beside the whole grain crackers.”

Mrs. GRUMPY: (Shaking her head) “Nope, they’re not there!”Grumpy bolts from his chair to start tearing apart that cupboard – item by item. He finds no ALMONDS.

GRUMPY: “My God, what are we going to do? I’ve gotta have my almonds.”  He is wringing his hands and sweating profusely. He is despondant.

Mrs. Grumpy, somewhat shaken, glances at the microwave and says, “Oh, my! It’s eleven o’clock at night. Nothing will be open.”

She slinks to a chair. The forlorn look on her face would move anyone to tears,

Grumpy is now rifling through his pockets, hoping that a few almonds from his afternoon snack remain secreted there. Perhaps some have dropped to the floor.

He finds not one.

GRUMPY: “What on earth are we going to do?”

Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, Mrs. Grumpy bolts out of the kitchen to grab the Lakeshore Shopper newspaper. Her eyes are glazed and her pupils are somewhat dilated.

Mrs. Grumpy: “Shoppers! Yes, Shoppers! I knew it would be Shoppers.”

GRUMPY: “Say what?”

Mrs. Grumpy: “Shoppers Drug Mart is open until MIDNIGHT! They have ALMONDS! The lightly salted ones we like!”

GRUMPY: “I’ll grab my keys but you drive. I’ve got the shakes!”

And, off we race, out to get our next fix of ALMONDS!

"Shoppers Drug Mart! How smart of you, babe. We'll get our fix of almonds!"

“Shoppers Drug Mart! How smart of you, babe. We’ll get our fix of almonds!”

Indeed, if you stacked all of the almonds consumed in this house in one year you could fill one of those Dolly Parton salt barns we have here in Canada. You know, the ones built for winter road maintenance.

Undeniably, Grumpy realized today that he surely is going to the birds. He is an addicted GRANIVOR of the First Kind because his life has become totally seedy. Grumpy is absolutely and completely heavy into CRACK-ed wheat and SEED.

Now, if only he could grow wings and fly south for the winter.

Here are the rules for a STRESS diet that Grump’s could surely lash onto. The diet can be found on the net at:

http://homecooking.about.com/library/archive/bljoke3.htm

GRUMPY LIKES THESE RULES

1. If you eat something and no one sees you eat it, it has no calories.

2. If you drink a diet soda with a candy bar, the diet soda cancels out the calories in the candy bar.

3. When you eat with someone else, calories don’t count if you do not eat more than they do.

4. Food used for medicinal purposes NEVER counts, such as hot chocolate, brandy, toast and Sara Lee Cheesecake.

5. If you fatten up everyone else around you, then you look thinner.

6. Movie related foods do not have additional calories because they are part of the entertainment package and not part of one’s personal fuel. (Examples: Milk Duds, buttered popcorn, Junior Mints, Red Hots and Tootsie Rolls.)

7. Cookie pieces contain no calories. The process of breaking causes calorie leakage.

8. Things licked off knives and spoons have no calories if you are in the process of preparing something.

9. Foods that have the same color have the same number of calories. (Examples: spinach and pistachio ice cream; mushrooms and mashed potatoes.)

10. Chocolate is a universal color and may be substituted for any other food color.

11. Anything consumed while standing has no calories. This is due to gravity and the density of the caloric mass.

12. Anything consumed from someone else’s plate has no calories since the calories rightfully belong to the other person and will cling to his/her plate. (We ALL know how calories like to cling!)

Remember, “stressed” spelled backwards is “desserts.”

 imagesCARWIWOG

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You know you’re on the road to becoming a fuddy-duddy when. . .


ZZZZoldtimerIf you read the last blog regarding Grumpy’s mother, Hellfire Helen, you might have noticed the signs of Senior Citizenship are somewhat crude and abrasive. In the interest of science and general knowledge, Grumpy has gathered a list that just might assist you in determining your own status as an aging citizen of the third rock from the sun. Please read and enjoy.

You know you’re on the road to becoming a fuddy-duddy when.  .  .

You carry your 20 something pound grandbaby around and it feels like you’re giving the fireman’s lift to Oprah or Rob Ford. You are considering physical therapy or a new fitness regimen to conquer your obvious frailties.

You take the meds that keep your heart ticking and you kicking along with a swallow of beer –straight from the brown bottle. Doing counterintuitive acts is now common place with you.

You forget taking your pills all the time. Forgetting the one you have to take with food means you eat meals in the evening after eating a meal at dinner time. Your waistline gives evidence to your forgetfulness. Your significant other always reminds you to take this pill but usually its three hours too late – hence, another late evening meal.

You mumble under your breath all the time as if narrating the documentary of your life. Once in a while you are loud enough to be heard in public and you are glad that people probably think you’re talking on a Blue Tooth. However, more often than not you get looks saying, “Stand clear, Billy, that old man’s a multiple personality psychotic.”

Along with the above, you mumble criticisms concerning the illogical behavior you witness everywhere. My daughter conwaypointed this out to me in Wal-Mart the other day. She couldn’t stop laughing. “Dad, be careful what you’re saying. People can hear you.”

Your son’s teenage buddies say things like, “Wow, I’d like to spend a day in your brain, Grumpy. That would be so interesting and weird.” This usually comes after you’ve stumbled and mumbled through some ridiculous explanation for something as simple as, “Why did you do that?”

You know you’re on the road to becoming a fuddy-duddy.  .  .

When you are home alone with the dog, you talk to him/her as if they are a real person.  “Well, Pumba, let’s see what’s on television!” When the dog’s sleeping you talk to yourself as if you are with another you, or you talk aloud, describing what you are doing. “Well, I think I better get supper on!”  Most times, the other you will answer you back. “Why don’t we make Panini’s?” To which the real you replies, “Good idea!” And so on!

When your spouse is home you continue to talk to yourself as if he/she isn’t there . “Oh, I’ve got to go downstairs and find that thing I’m looking for and then I’ve got to hit the bathroom.” Either she tells you to “stop with the play-by-play, that’s way too much information” or you accidently discover that “Homes for the Aged” is booked marked in your spouse’s GOOGLE.

When you head somewhere in the house and forget why you were going there in the first place. You backtrack to the place of origin hoping you remember why you took that original trip. If you have stairs in the house your lack of memory creates your daily exercise program. Down the stairs to get that something, then up the stairs to remember what that something was. This counters your forgetfulness regarding that pill you must take with food. WIN-WIN for you.

When every night you are awakened by aches and pains. Sometimes even your hair hurts. You wonder how a bed with a pillow-top memory foam what-you-may-call-it mattress can feel like a bed of nails. You might even find yourself downing a Tylenol Body Pain Night Extra Strength from a second gulp from that original brown bottle or a follow-up brewskie. Nobody ever told you that sleep hurts. You ask your wife, “Did you buy that mattress from that place called THE RACK down by the castle?”

When your toenails are getting exceedingly long. You bend over and you ache when you try to get down there, and your diaphragm is so constricted you begin to hyperventilate while, at the same time, feeling faint. No matter that your aged nails have the consistency of concrete. Wearing safety glasses during one of these procedures isn’t an option because you have no desire to look remotely like Lord Elton John.

When everything you eat is converted to noxious gas. I won’t bore you with a diatribe on flatulence. You only need to know that Grumpy puts “the fart” in OLD FART. He thinks that’s why they put power windows in modern vehicles – instant air evacuation.

When little girl sales clerks in stores treat you like their grandpa/grandma and talk to you as if your intellectually challenged or an six year old child. They sound like your kindergarten teacher from 60 years ago. They prance around you like annoying Bambi’s cooing at you like Turtle Doves.

When you’re lying in the hospital after cataract surgery with a diagnosed irregular heart beat and the Doctor turns to your wife and says, “If he was my DAD I’d want to get this checked out.” Say what? Grumpy doesn’t look that old, does he?

Or even worse. Your standing in Tim Horton’s with your over 70 mother-in-law and the little girl cashier says to you, “Would your wife like anything, sir?” Maybe Grumpy does look that old?

You know you’re on the road to becoming a fuddy-duddy .  .  .

When the gardens you maintain that were described as a beautiful park 10 years ago, become such hard work you’re     thinking of paving the yard over. Those little shrubs and trees you planted require constant trimming and weeds have become your nemesis. And, you often find yourself loudly cursing dandelions even when you’re out in public.

imagesCAUYZPG2When your patience goes out the window. Every lineup, crowd, traffic jam, sales clerk and vehicle on the road drives you around the bend because they’re all “a-holes” as Hellfire Helen so eloquently described. People drive too fast, talk too much, and generally put your blood pressure on Red Alert. Forget about ROAD RAGE – you’re developing LIFE RAGE! The single finger salute becomes your signature move and a constant status on your Facebook page. You think back to that crazy custodian from school, Norm, who said everyone should be allowed to carry handguns. Somehow you’ve come around and now agree with him.

When you write notes to help with your forgetfulness and you lose the notes. Your wife finds one of those notes weeks later; you look at it, and don’t remember writing, “Check winning lottery tickets.” Of course, you don’t remember where you put those damned tickets while the radio announcer proclaims, “No one has claimed huge lottery prize!” The most common note you lose reads, “Remember to take pill at suppertime.”

When you realize that some of the people you think are really old looking prove to be younger than you. That’s why you avoid mirrors and photographs. Hellfire Helen would say, “Don’t take my picture, I always look like Kit Dowding” – Kit Dowding being way older than old Helen. Grumpy often says, “Don’t take my picture. People will think I’m the Good Wife’s father!”

imagesCAU8MP8AWhen you find yourself in the electronics aisle of Wal-Mart looking for the boxed set Second Season of, “Murder She Wrote.” Or, the only reality TV you watch is infomercials or the shopping channel.

When you can’t find your car in the parking lot or, even worse, you get into a car that isn’t yours much to the terror of the poor soul in the passenger seat. Police do report that carjacking by seniors is on the rise. That’s probably because the a-holes running the car companies charge way too much for that newfangled Crown Victoria you’ve been eying.

The most significant telltale sign demonstrating that  you’re on the road to becoming a fuddy-duddy, of course, is that Christmas or Thanksgiving when you tell your son or daughter to put that turkey where the sun don’t shine. It will be even worse, when you make that your Facebook Status.

scroogeNow I know why Hellfire Helen was the way that she was. Grumpy experiences this every single day. If someone asked him why he was so Grumpy, he’d simply reply, “I hurt everywhere, I don’t sleep at night, I have so much gas half the time I feel like I could explode, people are idiots, kids these days are rude, drivers drive to fast, everything takes too long, people talk too much, I can’t remember what I did five minutes ago, I lose or misplaces everything, I drop things constantly having to painfully bend over to pick them up again and no one will step up to the plate to tie my shoes!!”

Bah! Humbug! Just call me Ebenezer!

Are you becoming a Hellfire Helen?


Today we get a replay of Hellfire Helen. Later this week we’ll look at how Grumpy is beginning to slide into that Hellfire mode. Oh, my! That could be interesting and informative!

GRUMPY'S WORLD

Have you ever experienced this?

Even though you are an adult, maybe even approaching your own Senior Citizenship, your own parents treat you like you are an 8 year child.

I am very cognizant of this now that I am a Grandfather. This is in the category of “doing what I do, not what I say,” right. Really, the temptation to emulate my own parents and do the very same thing is palatable.

In my experience, this situation can get to the point where everyone in your immediate family feels the effects of this tempest. In my case, it is ironic that it can first be illustrated by a teapot.

“Jimmy, you can’t pour the hot water into the teapot like that. You’re going to burn yourself?”

Let me introduce you to Hellfire Helen, my redheaded, five foot nothing, fireball of a dearly departed mother. My mother was the size…

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Kings, Queens and Monarchs! Oh, my!


Kings, Queens and Monarchs! Oh, my!

When you’re country bumpkins, as we are wont to be, a trip to a larger population centre can be quite daunting. Leaving the land of pickup trucks and mullets, we often wind our way into a land inhabited by chaos and confounding concepts. We’re like country mice heading into the city. One minute we are dodging combines and tractors and in the next moment we are on a NASCAR run of epic proportions.

It’s no wonder that Grumpy grips the steering wheel with white knuckles. He knows that disaster could happen at any moment. Cars and trucks wiz by as if he is standing still. Don’t these people realize the speed limit is 100 km/hr.? Sometimes the good wife even gets annoyed.

GOOD WIFE: “Grumpy, the guy that just passed you is over 80 for crying out loud!”

GRUMPY: “80? What the hey! I’m doing at least 110!!!!”

GOOD WIFE: “Geez Louise, I mean you just got passed by an old man who’s over 80 years old!”

GRUMPY: “Harrumph! Damned seniors – they drive like maniacs!”

You see, the Good Wife and Grumpy are off to watch the Phenom play college basketball. They will stay overnight in a nicely appointed Sheraton Four Points Hotel. This is a pretty nice place to unpack your bags for a night. They even have something called “Comfort Top” beds.

Staying at a decent hotel IS very important. The Grumpy’s have learned their lesson about going cheap on these excursions. Those $39 specials, more often than not, have turned out to be all about bikers and bedbugs.

Upon arrival, Grumpy went to the front desk to register. He was a little concerned that the desk-jockey seemed nervous and somewhat ill-at-ease. The young lady fumbled about as if agitated and, every once in a while, gave Grumpy a look of profound puzzlement. She dropped her pen at least three times. Grumpy quickly checked to see if his fly was open.

Later, the Good Wife who had remained in the car, said, “Thanks for leaving me out here alone, Grumpy. I had lots of entertainment!”

It seems as if a huge dude (as in tall and stout) decided to relieve himself into a giant flower pot under the portico of the hotel. His fly was definitely open.This occurred while other rather rotund and unusual people stood by. It appeared as if the hotel might be inhabited by a conclave of hulking homeless people.

And, most of them were men.

No matter, the registration went without incident and the Grumpy’s quickly scrambled up to their room. The room, once viewed, had Grumpy thinking that he could care less about the “comfort top bed”.

Why?

Because the accoutrement that would be tops for him this night would certainly be that there was NO PUMBA THE FARTING DOG around to badger and hound him!

No, canine feet walking up his back at three am.

No, dogged breathed wet muzzle snuffling his ear.

No whispers of, “I want out. I want out . . . NOW! I gotta go PEE!”

You see, Pumba has peed on every flower pot in our yard and then some. Pumba shows no prejudice. Indeed, he makes the guy at the hotel look like a crass amateur; a mere piddler by Pumba’s standards.

Now this particular Four Points has a great Italian restaurant -The Piazza Pasta & Wine Bar. We’ve eaten there before because we’ve made this trip a few times. The Grumpy’s decided they’d head down for an Italian or Mediterranean salad, not wanting to be bloated and irritable for the game. After the adventure they’d had so far, Grumpy felt as if he also required a purely medicinal and very tall – glass of draft beer.

The restaurant is situated in a huge atrium and from our table we could view the switchback stairway. It was fully open, allowing us to people watch as guests went up or down. “People watching” is something we do, being country bumpkins and the curious sorts that we are. But, Grumpy assures you we never stare. We’ve got surreptitious viewing down to an art – dark glasses are our trademark.

Anyway, the Good Wife and Grumps noticed several beautifully dressed women descending the stairwell. These women wore fine-looking gowns, heavy jewelry and makeup that must have took hours to apply. Their hair was fluffed and puffed, sitting high upon their heads. They wore high heels that made them look like giant Amazon women – but they were not savages – these Amazons were dressed to the nines. Each of them appeared as if they were preened and prepped to attend a magnificent ball – none of them had a male escort.

In the meantime, Grumpy left the table to head to the loo. A tall glass of draft beer does that to him. And, he is not partial flower pots, especially when they are outside and exposed to the winds of November. The back-spray can be just nasty.

On his way back to the table he looked down the corridor leading to the conference rooms. It was cordoned off with sheer black drapery. Standing guard was a young male in a tuxedo. Grumpy nearly tripped over his feet when he saw that the dudes face was covered in makeup and he wore a diamond tiara on his head – princess style.

Upon returning to the table the Good Wife and Grumpy decided that something very unusual was going on at the Four Points. We proceeded to ask the waitress if she could provide some information. Waitresses we find are good sources of scuttlebutt when it comes to hotel gossip.

With a wry smile and a chuckle she said, “Oh, yes they surely are dressed to perfection. Did you notice the heavy jewellery they all wear? I couldn’t begin to carry that stuff without a getting a sore back. You see they’re all pretty strong because they are all MEN!”

Grumpy and the Good wife stood in stunned silence with their jaws hanging slack and agape. Indeed these ladies were really strong because they were really big men. And with a ho ho ho, Grumpy’s assures you these prom Queens were Jolly Green Giant size.

“You see, they all belong to a society called THE IMPERIAL SOVEREIGN COURT,” the waitress went on. “Tonight they are about to crown their new monarchs in a gala event called Coronation XI. There are people her from all over, even the United States.”

She went on to tell us that the local chapter of the I.S.C. was hosting this lala-palooza extravaganza. The event had this as its moniker, “Wham, Glam, Thank You Ma’am: A Costume Party Celebrating A Flashback To The 40’s”. This would be to be a royal gala with a theme, no less.

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The Good Wife, after recovering her composure, had only one thing to say to Grumpy, “You’ve got to Google this!”

Here are a few facts Grumpy gathered. He provides them for your education and delight.

The Imperial Sovereign Court is a local chapter of the International Alliance of Courts (I.A.C.) which consists of over 65 courts throughout the United States of America, Canada, Mexico, and the United Kingdom.

As the second largest fundraising organization in the global homophile/homophile-positive community, the I.A.C. has been a substantial force over the last 40 years.

Their motto represents: “The House Of Mythical Creatures Gods And Goddesses Protecting The Faith Of Olympus Where Everything Old Is New Again Expect the Unexpected”. And, “Our uniqueness is that we model our organization after that of a monarchical society.”

The society is currently ruled by Empress 10 and Regent Emperor 10. Hence, this event is to proclaim Coronation XI. The Grand Ball would effectively follow.

Now, you need to know that each member of this “society” has an alias/title much like you might have a nickname on Facebook or Twitter.

The Empress in 1998 went by: THE BARGAIN BASEMENT, BACK TO BASICS, I’M TOO BUSY TO BE A BARBIE GIRL BARONESS H.I.S.M. EMPRESS 1998. Or in 2001 the Empress was crowned: HELL’S MISTRESS OF MAYHEM THE SHAKE IT TILL YA BREAK IT GODDESS OF THE GROOVE THE ORIGINAL BAD GIRL H.I.S.M. Or how about 2002’s Emperor: THE REVVED UP REBEL WITH A CAUSE BORN TO BE WILD CHILD, BAD BOY BARON  KEEPER OF THE BLOOD RED STONE  WHEN YOUR THIS BIG THEY CALL YOU MISTER SISTER CLOSED THE CHAPTER BUT NOT THE BOOK SWING KING   H.I.S.M. EMPEROR 2002.

zzzzzzzMonarchs

Grumpy wonders why they don’t simply call this dude Emperor Bob.

Kings, Queens and Monarchs, oh my!

The only experience Grumpy has with “drag” is that he is required to drag his big butt around wherever he goes  – daily. Well, of course, there was that incident in Grade 8 when Grumpy and Kenny dressed up like women for Halloween! But really, that event sealed the deal for the Grumps. His interest in cross dressing was a one off, you see.

But, who are we to question the motivation or direction of these folks? They do raise millions of dollars in their community. After all, Grumpy comes from the land of Fair Day, Demolition Derby, Pumpkinfest and Friday 13th biker rallies in Port Dover. Heck, we recently had a Zombie walk in one of the nearby communities.

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After all was said and done, it became perfectly clear why that demure desk clerk had been so agitated when Grumpy registered. She wondered why Grumpy was so short, how he might look in an evening gown and if make-up could ever make his ugly mug look womanly pretty. Maybe she wondered what a little old guy like the Grumps was doing at such an event, given that he might have reminded her of her own grandfather. What a perplexing conundrum for that poor little girl. Grumpy sincerely hopes that she didn’t require counselling or some kind of psychological intervention.

Upon leaving the hotel on Sunday, Grumpy and the Good Wife had company on the elevator. The towering dude was at least six five and burly but well groomed and dressed. He was clean shaven and rather stoic. He looked like a distinguished accountant. Nevertheless, Grumpy couldn’t help thinking about what this guy might have looked like in a sequined dress. You see, the lobby was crawling with a host of big gregarious men that morning.

Within the privacy of the Clown Car, you might expect that the conversation went something like this.

GRUMPY: “Did you see that, Honey? The dude in the elevator was the guy in the emerald dress.”

GOOD WIFE: “I’m not so sure. Even without heels – he seemed too tall.”

GRUMPY: “Hon, it was his hands that gave him away. Didn’t you see the hint of green nail polish on his pinky?”

GOOD WIFE: “No, I was too busy admiring his GUCCI purse.”

GRUMPY: “So that’s what it was. Holy cow, I thought it was a fancy bag for carrying a bowling ball.”

zzzzzzguccibag

AL MVP Debate


SON MATT HAS JOINED THE BLOGGING COMMUNITY. LIKE FATHER LIKE SON! GIVE IT A READ!

Sunday At the Ballpark

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The World Series has ended and the baseball world now turns its head to award season. We’ve seen ROY and MOY given out with no real surprises as well as the Cy Young Awards. But today we’ll find out who wins the AL/NL MVP Award.

The MVP Award has always come with a bit of scrutiny. Some believe the winner isn’t always the right choice. There is a guideline to voting as mentioned in the following.

“The rules of the voting remain the same as they were written on the first ballot in 1931:

1. Actual value of a player to his team, that is, strength of offense and defense.

2. Number of games played.

3. General character, disposition, loyalty and effort.

4. Former winners are eligible.

5. Members of the committee may vote for more than one member of a team.

You are also urged to give serious consideration…

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