Halloween can sometimes be tricky. That’s a horrible and non punny introduction.  However, today I was researching treats people may hand out on this sacred day recognizing ghosts, goblins, murderers, the devil, dash in a sprinkle of a child dressed as a nice hobo or perhaps a pirate who kindly pillages and plunders, a broom flying witch (no, I am not referring to my former principal) and a guy dressing up as Steve.  He is my Irish brother.

Sleepy Hallow was about a legend known as “The Headless Horseman”.  My brother, Steve, is about a legend known as Steve.  Legend has it, and I confirmed it earlier this morning, he did something absolutely deplorable and despicable one Halloween evening while living alone in his house 30 some odd years ago.

This is not for the faint of heart, so look away or run away if you are a bit squeamish.  My brother, Steve, is a bit of a health nut.  He enjoys an occasional beer, but candy really isn’t his cup of cavity.  Therefore, while living in his humble rock house, he thought  giving out raw potatoes providing nutrients to children would be far more important than providing candy corn and apples riddled with razor blades.  That part is true.  This next legendary part I’m hoping is true.  One of those raw potatoes went flying and crashing through one of his windows that Halloween night, thus costing him more than a bag of Barber Shop Bubble Gum.  Who knows?  The culprit could possibly have  been one of his younger brothers.

Tonight, I am dressing up as Steve.  That will scare the Halloween out of everyone.  They won’t be getting potatoes, but, much like Steve, they will receive a laugh, a smile, and sadly, a few cavities.

Have a safe evening and enjoy the fun memories of Halloween.  …….(unless you are a boyfriend who doesn’t enjoy watching his girlfriend dressing up as a prostitute).

Witnessing great baseball games has been a theme for my baseblogs.  I will keep this short, weird and a bit confusing. Previously, I wrote about a World Series game my father and I watched 23 years ago, not necessarily changing my life, but for one evening, definitely providing a bunch of fun.

Game 6 of the World Series ended last night in the bottom of the 11th inning on a walk off home run by St. Louis Cardinal David Freese.  The St. Louis Cardinals were not the team my wife and I were hoping to win.  As very spiritual people, we were praying for them to lose.  As most common people know, God, Jesus, Bud-ah, Beelzebub, and Mormon Young watch all of these ballgames, even on Sunday.  They were all partying last night because of the fun it provided for so many people.

The home run leads the two teams to game seven of the series and my wife and I are rooting for the Texas Rangers.  My gambling background believes I irritated the Baseball Gods by thinking the Rangers had it won in the 9th inning of the game last night.  To all the gamblers betting on the Rangers that evening, I hold full responsibility for saying, “This game is over”.  I was already eating a bratwurst while celebrating before what I thought was to be the last pitch dictating the outcome of the game.  For St. Louis Cardinal fans…….you’re welcome.

Other than wanting and trying to believe in Sasquatch, UFO’s and other ridiculous supernatural phenomenons, after watching Game 6 of The World Series last night with my wife,I had to question my insanity. During the game, we believed the stars were colliding and weird things were happening.  I guess you could refer to it as a moment of Baseball Clarity.  At the end of the game, my thought was, “Are you World Serious?”  If the well respected Bill Shatner would have been present in our living room, he would have said something profound like, “We have gone where no team has gone before.”  That’s a little dramatic, but for a goofball like me, that’s how goofy I was last night.

For stars colliding, convening, and sometimes convincing, the Cardinals have some strange Karma I don’t want to believe.  It’s much like not wanting to believe in ghosts.  No thank you.  Will you go to some other house?  You scare me.  I’m not betting on the Cardinals to lose because they scare me.  (That, and our stock has decreased significantly over the last couple of days)

Last night’s game was arguably one of the greatest World Series games in history.  Tonight’s game may be anticlimactic.  Who knows?  As a baseball observer for many years, it has been the most interesting and fun post season I’ve ever witnessed.

When I wrote about another wonderful World Series game occurring 23 years ago, the home run hero was wearing the number 23.  Last night’s hero was wearing number 23. Twenty three years ago, Tony Larussa, was the opposing manager to the man crushing the game winning home run, thus crushing the team’s spirits so many years ago.  Tony Larussa is now the manager of The St. Louis Cardinals who is defying many odds and strikes.

I really hope Texas wins tonight, and I think they should, but strange things happen in this wacky world.  My gambling money will remain in my pocket this evening.

By the way, I’ve never bet on baseball.  I just wildly enjoy the sport.  Just ask my wife.

Watch Game 7.

Ben

So I was sitting around drinking breast milk the other day and I thought to myself, at 24 years old, this may be a bit too old to drink breast milk.  I am a Master Jedi when it comes to doing stupid things.  Allow me to explain.

My mother-in-law, sister-in-law, including her fascinating infant, were in town over last week and we had a magical few days together. Britt’s nephew, who we shall refer to as Ty Bone, a six month old dynamo, became a bit fussy about eating. Ty Bone required a bit of coaxing to finish his breakfast one morning. Remembering the days of my brother, Steve, eating dog food from our mother’s kitchen, I decided to take over, thinking Gerber’s Cream of Wheat couldn’t be that awful. Evidently,when children, which I have none of, see an imbecile eating something, they tend to throw down their arms and eat it too.  Ty Bone needed to eat.  While being a Great Uncle, I showed this beautiful young boy how to eat. After sampling Ty Bones brunch, there was a tang I couldn’t quite identify.  It turns out that “Gerber’s Cream of Wheat” was actually cream of  boob.  I didn’t know mothers placed breast milk in baby food.  As a simpleton, I only thought babies drank the stuff in closed doors, or solitary confinement.

Trish, my sister-in- law, was extremely kind and funny when she said, “Do you know what you just ate?”  I told her I ate some Gerber’s food to persuade your son to eat.  She then told me what additional garnishes were sprinkled in the food.  I then excused myself to the nearest bathroom.

Not only embarrassed, accidentally drinking breast milk for the second time, I felt horrible for Trish’s husband, currently fighting for us overseas, not being the first adult to try it out.  Sorry, Nick.

As a male married with no children, I was forced to further research this important subject.  When I do research, I text, tweet, or rotary dial certain qualified individuals possibly possessing more knowledge about profound subjects.  The responses were astonishing.  I did not know this was a common occurrence for mankind.  I will again change names to protect the disgusting fathers and husbands.

Pat:  Oh yeah, I tried it.  It was a little thick, but I drink whole milk, and her’s is a lot cheaper.

Chris: I need it before I go to sleep at night.  (he is thirty years old)

Ben:  I am going to stick with Lucerne Skim Milk.

Ty Bone:  Just give me a boob and I’m fine.  Don’t give me any of that Gerber crap.

I am so glad I don’t remember my days as an infant.

I don’t hate anyone.  Personally, I’m just too worried about my wife and myself to have the time to hate people.  I do, however, acquire a lack of respect with certain people and sometimes athletes.  Last night’s game between the Yanks and the Tigers made me sleep well.

There will  be no names mentioned regarding this subject, because quite frankly, the names are not worthy of mentioning.  I will mention numbers.  The number 13 is very important to my wife and me.  Strangely, it represents many wonderful things in our life.  For anyone who knows me, they may understand this statement.

Seeing people fail is never fun.  However, when they wear the number 13 on their back, and have been proven to have taken drugs which makes that person much richer than me, I get a little irritated.  Sadly, my wife and I happily rejoiced when number 13 struck out to end the game.

I am now going to confession, because that was mean.

Baseball enthusiast……..But not a lover of the Yankees

Competitive Backstabbing

I shall now write with regard to phones as though you and I are common cave dwellers.  Land lines RULE.  Oh, so you say you don’t know what a Land Line is??  Let me progress.  These are phones which don’t require touch tone anything, don’t necessarily give you poor service (Verizon) and when you actually sit on it, it doesn’t call an ex girlfriend pissing your wife off.  Rotary phones, which once existed, were wonderful.  These were phones allowing  you to make a call when forcefully placing your finger in an obviously circular area rotating it seven times only to reach the presumed innocent recipient.

They were strange phones where,when dialing,  you didn’t hear a rap song or a Jerry Seinfeld tune.  Instead, you received a buzzer dictating whether the said recipient wished to talk to you or not.

Because I love my late Father,  I can’t even get into call waiting.  That was a no no no.

Ben