Hiding In My Helga Hat

Happy Turkey Day to those living north of the border! Not sure if the Canadian Thanksgiving fest consist of maple syrup soaked bacon, poutine, and Kokanee…

… actually that sounds much better then dried-out turkey and canned cranberry sauce from the dollar store. Hope they enjoy the day off the daily grind.

“Manny being Manny”. I propose the next sportscaster who speaks this abortion of a phrase to be subjected to being filled up to his/her neck with sand during high tide and having their face pierced by 20,000 acupuncture needles so it resembles a sheep Chia Pet while a dozen sleep deprived toddlers hopped up on Red Bull with diarrhea filled diapers sit in a circle around your bloated noggin holding two of those plastic shovels you find in a dollar beach play set at Target.

Call it the new age shock therapy.

Vikings.

As with the Twins, I’m a sports fan first, rabid local sports fan second. If any of the local talking heads radio or TV believe that the Vikings “earned” the last two victories and aren’t calling for a change in that putrid offensive product that struts on the field with the consistency of semi-melted jello, you should consider running for a political office instead of giving Purple Pride-filled sound bites. The defense is doing their job plus outscoring the offense on most nights as usual, but with Purple Jesus and a revived Bernard Berrian, the Vikes shouldn’t have to have some gonzo ref mis-call against the worst defense in the league to win by a beer league softball score of 12-10.

I could hear the disappointment in Paul Allen’s voice at KFAN while Wyatt’s last soccer practice was starting up, even as Longwell lined up the chip shot to win it with nine seconds left and can’t wait to hear the podcast of the PA and Dubay show later tonight.

The only reason to watch boiled down hoping more Clarissa Thompson (at least I think this is her...) would pop up on the sidelines.

On the poker-y side, I’m now recapping the Sunday Million Warm-up at Stars which is preventing me from having to foray into the evils of slamming a 6-pack of Monster at work the next morning. In Vegas, I’ll owe the boss a 3am greyhound at the Pai Gow tables for this one.

First parent/teacher conference tonight. Which personality should I bring to the mini-chairs at Wyatt’s school tonight?

1) Concerned, passive parent that shuts-up and nods a lot
2) Counter-pointing every critique she speaks of and add some random “you people” complete with finger pointing
3) Show up with a Lacoste polo shirt with a flipped collar, soaked in Axe body spray with an ripe-orange fake tan holding a Natty Ice tallboy and answer every question shouting “BRA!” while grinding on my wife like there’s some house music being piped into the classroom.

Enjoy your Monday.