Bits of tids (because it's a word, right, and I switched it around. BLAM! - Funny)

I know, 2 posts in one week, I'm totally spoiling you. But when I saw this, and then I read this, how could I not write something?

Some of you might think that the return of the pill-popping good ol' boy is a bad thing for the Bears. Some of you Krazy Israeli are actually concerned. But not me. Because, you see, any possession that puts the ball in FavRUH's hands is one less handoff to Adrian Peterson the Greater. And it's one more pass floating past an open receiver into the welcoming arms of Charles Tillman, or Nathan Vasher. It's gotta be tough for FavRUH, with all those young'uns running around all fast-y like, and he's got to gun it in, just like he did in the field back in Mississip, only some of those blurs aren't on his team, and then he's sad, and only the pills can make it all better.

What I'm saying is, now the Bears can beat the Vikings, even with Crybaby Sulkypants as our QB. So hooray for that.

A quick Turducken update - I've successfully boned a duck. They're oilier, so it was more slippery, which made it more difficult, but also more satisfying, see what I'm saying? Notwithstanding the sexual innuendo, I made a kickass recipe with curry, garlic (15 cloves, bitches) and soy sauce. But it did call for not just boning, but also skinning, so that's not going to happen again. But I'm now ready, I believe, to prepare the Holy Grail of Gluttony for the Family Fancy Pants in October.

Finally, I went to the emergency room this evening, because some angular man-child put his elbow through my chin while we were both jockeying for position to catch a frisbee during an Ultimate game.

Now, were we keeping score? We were not. Did I need to scrap with the guy for the disc? Not at all. Did I make the catch? Fuck yes I did.

So I get a tissue from one of the other players, and I throw some water on my chin, and I ask my team - "Does it look like I need stitches?" Now, I don't know all the players very well, but I hope none of them are med students, or doctors, because they all said no. They didn't even equivocate - "well, I'm not sure, but maybe you want to go home just in case." Nope. "Looks like a nasty cut, but I think you're ok." So, did I keep playing through the end of the game? Hells yeah.

And then I got home. Wife looks at me like I'm Massive Headwound Harry



(Linda Hamilton can for sure kick my ass, but she's totally a man. If you catch her in the right pose, you can see her junk through her skirt. Seriously - frank and beans, people)

So I go in to the bathroom, and finally get to see the gaping wound in my chin with my own eyes. And we head off to the emergency room, where I get 6 (6!) stitches. So for all you frisbee players, next time you can see bone through a cut, it might need stitches. Hippies.