Oh no you didn't!

So I've seen this guy do this easily a half of a dozen times. One time I hollered across the bar at him to stop but him paid me no attention. He's a double dipper. In public no less. It's one thing to double dip at home. I'll even champion that effort myself. But in public?

Ok, so this dude, whom I have no name other than the Double Dipper goes into the same bar I do. Every time I see him he'll have a drink or two and make his way toward the bathroom. On the way he'll make a pit stop at the little happy hour buffet that the proprietors are kind enough to provide. DD will stand there in broad daylight and take a tortilla chip and dip it straight into the big thing of salsa. Questionable already, but passable. Then he’ll take a bite and put the remaining piece of the chip back in the salsa for another helping.

I lost it last night when I saw this happen AGAIN. After DD went to the bathroom, probably not washing his mitts, he reentered the bar area. Where I was lying in wait. I squared up to him and gently poked a finger in his chest and said.

"When you took that chip and took a bite and then put it back in the salsa, did you ever consider that someone else might like to have some."

This was met with a blank stare, almost looking away like my dog does when being scolded. Then some blinking.

"So you are a double dipper. You put food in your mouth, then take it out and commingle it with other people’s food. What is wrong with you?"

He walked away after saying nothing. I felt better but was shaking a little bit from the adrenaline rush created by the confrontation.

I hope he learns something. If not, I tried.

Your membership in the 9 -- REVOKED!

Poor poor Pluto. All it ever did as a “planet” was hang around your anus, er I mean Uranus. It’s just this little latecomer to the Planet Party, doin’ its thing way out there in its gigantic orbit. Now these know-it-all astronomers say it is nothing more than a “Dwarf Planet.” Maybe they should stick to telling me when Mercury is in retrograde for the Pisces man or what the heck it means when the moon is in the 10th house. (That could be astrology, so never mind)

Pluto probably should have seen it coming. Its discovery in 1930 was pretty forced anyway. Folks were looking for a ninth planet and when some cat named Lowell decided that this icy little rock was it. It has a funky-assed orbit that crosses the path of Neptune and it kinda wobbles like tire with out all its lug nuts. This makes Neptune the farthest planet from the sun for 20 years every 248. Not a good way to impress the neighbors.

Schoolbooks and the teachers who rely on them are ruined. Get the White Out ready. Useless too are the cute little mnemonics we used to learn the order of the planets. “Mr. Vigoda Eagerly Made Justine Saddle Up Nine Ponies.” What the hell is Justine going to do now?

Truthfully, I couldn’t care less. It’s no skin off my nose. I think, however, it is a very funny visual imagining the eggheads at the International Astronomical Union (IAU) having “years of intense debate.”

Is not!

Is too!

Dork!

Four-Eyes!

Shut up!

Infinity!

Damn.

Make that out to...

The other day we were lounging around the pool enjoying the Texas heat of a thousand suns with some friends. My lovely wife was telling some of them about this blog. “He writes stories, and mostly about the Buckeyes.” I disagreed, as I thought I sprinkled in much more variety, if not just outright scatter shooting. So the results are just in and it turns out that only about 25% of the entries are indeed about the Bucks. Not that there isn’t enough material to fill up blogs for a month of Sundays, but I didn’t and don’t want this to be one of those. Mainly because that would mean we’d have to get into the X’s and O’s of football. I can hang in that type of conversation up to the point where I fall asleep or drive the car in to a bridge abutment. Now having said all that, in the absence of some help from my muse or some other brainstorm, the Buckeyes are the mama to which I run home.

This is one of those days.

It could only mean a few things when a college football team gets nearly 30,000 people to a late evening practice like OSU did yesterday.
- There’s nothing going on in Columbus on a Monday night in the summer.
- It’s in the ‘Shoe and people look for any reason to go to the Ohio’s version of the Western (Wailing) Wall.
- Overrated or not the Buckeyes are on top of every preseason poll
- FREE AUTOGRAPHS.

These people are conducting tailgating and grilling practice. They are also playing a game, which really desperately needs a new name. Cornhole.

"It was 5:40 p.m., and the event was the Ohio State football team’s autograph session and open practice. It looked like a game day, with tailgaters and cornhole games and smoke wafting up from grills."

(We have the same game and call it Baggo. It may not be a great name but it so much less fecal than the other.)

If in Columbus, I don’t think I would have attended this practice and signing session but it certainly is a signal of just how close the greatest season of the year is from starting.

We are only 11 days from game one. I’m so excited…..And nervous.