The Sam's Club Hot Dog Combo is of the Devil

Even though I often say “I love food!” I don't really mean “love.” Then again, I don't think I mean “lust” either. Whether love or lust comes into play when referring to any of my food choices, I know not. What I do know is that I am guilty of at least seven other deadly sins whenever I indulge in one of the tastiest temptations to come along since the forbidden fruit itself: The Sam's Club Hot Dog Combo. At only a buck fifty, this oversized jumbo dog, when accompanied by an even larger soda, is nothing less than a life-shortening heart attack wrapped in foil and prepared, at an irresistible bargain price, by none other than the devil himself.

Here is how seven of the deadly sins manifest themselves every time I partake:

Sloth, in that I am far too lazy to make my own lunch and would rather drive clear to Provo than engage in any sort of food prep.

Greed, in that I am only willing to spend $1.50 for my meal, thus hanging on to the remaining eight dollars and fifty cents found in my wallet as though they were my last (because usually they are).

Gluttony, as I savor every last bite of the salt-infested, ketchup-slathered, mustard-dotted, onion-sprinkled, relish-infused, artery-clogging weenie in a bun.

Envy, in the eyes of the jealous passersby as they long for a bite of my juicy hot dog on steroids.

Wrath, when I realize I have just consumed more fat calories in a single setting than I do in a regular weekend!

Pride, at the realization that I could consume this same diet every day of the week for the next year and probably never gain an ounce (thanks to my overactive metabolism).

Vainglory, as I think to myself: If only I could look as good as this thing tastes!

MMM! MMM! MMMMMM!

Seven for Seven--An interactive post

My dear friend is about to have her seventh baby boy in the next few weeks. In honor of her, I would like to explore all of the “funny” (that's code for awkward and insensitive) comments she has endured over the last several months/years. I am also asking for your help in the form of responses. Please read through the list and write a “funny” retort she might be able to offer any of the comments listed below. Number them accordingly.

If you were about to have your seventh boy, what would say to the following?

1. Don't you know how to prevent that?
2. You know, there are ways of getting a girl.
3. Are you going to keep trying for a girl?
4. Wow! You'll have a whole litter. How many are in a litter, anyway?
5. You are a missionary machine!
6. Do you know the Duggars?
7. Seven Brides for Seven Brothers is my favorite show!
8. Are you Catholic or Mormon?
9. Was this planned or was it a surprise?
10. I wish having babies was easy for me. I might have had more.
11. I had a dream your baby weighed 10 lbs. 4 oz.
12. So, what are you going to name this one (note the use of the pronoun 'one' which gives the baby an almost inanimate connotation).
13. I couldn't even think of seven boy names!
14. I bought the baby a dress, just in case...

Thanks for your participation. She will be reading, so make her laugh. Just remember: Even though she is my friend, she (unlike me) actually has some class. Keep it clean, people!

Sticks and Stones May Break my Bones but Cracks and Rolls Incite Me!

For my friends who are worried they might be one of The People of Walmart...


The People of Walmart Criteria:

1. Expose either the top 1/3 (crack region) or the bottom 1/3 (cheeky region) of one's gluteus maximus--cellulite, optional.

2. Wear a printed t-shirt (or tattoo) containing an x-rated picture, at least one vulgarity, or a crude message one might expect to see within the corridors of a junior high...or prison.

3. Have what can only be described as an "Imodium moment" in the store or parking lot, then knowingly wear (or leave) the evidence thereof for all other shoppers to see.

4. Resemble Santa Claus--on or off duty.

5. Share one or more fat rolls by allowing them to ooze from the restrictive bands of one's apparel--"apparel" being a relative term.

6. Leave nothing to the imagination for the occasional shopper who might be thinking: I wonder what kind of underwear he/she is wearing.

7. Dress in costume, preferably with Star Wars or slut overtones. Combine them to make The People of Walmart Hall of Fame.

8. Shop with a monkey, raccoon, small dog, lizard, or child perched precariously in one's apparel or attached to one's breast.

9. Have an overabundant mass of body hair visible for all to see (or touch if they so desire).

10. Dress or act in any manner that causes no fewer than ten patrons to wonder if you have lost a bet.

To the people who spend their time taking and posting these photos, complete with foul and debasing comments: You have almost as much class as the people you mock. You could learn a few things from Sam Walton himself when he said: Live Better.
That's code for: Get a life!

The English Teacher-Gangsta Connection

Then. Than. Not quite homophones when pronounced deliberately, but they are still commonly confused and, as a result, misused in my students' writing on a regular basis. Don't worry. This is not going to turn into one of those snooty posts about how ignorant the general public is when it comes to English grammar. I'm not that kind of English teacher. Plus, I don't have time to list all of the mistakes I see, hear, and make on a daily basis.

I figure that along with the dress standards in our society, we all get lazy from time to time and don't stop to think about the consequences of our sloppy word usage. Like the young men I see roaming the halls of our junior high with the crotch of their jeans hanging somewhere between their thighs and their knee caps, we often find ourselves being careless to the point where we look a little silly, but as long as we aren't caught with our proverbial pants on the ground, we aren't always diligent in correcting the drivel that spews from our mouths when we speak or from our fingertips when we type. Now, I know what you are thinking: Those punks whose pants ride underneath their cheeky region look more than just a little silly! And you're right. But if you think about it, these slovenly clad doofuses still manage to reach their objectives, regardless of their ridiculous attire, don't they? I mean, cars still get stolen, drugs still get purchased, and police are still evaded despite the fact that the sloppily dressed dorks must keep one hand safely in a belt loop at all times so as to not lose their baggy draws. So you see, I figure if there is hope for the ridiculously dressed, there is also hope for the rest of us clowns who trip over our own words from time to time—and yes, I just used coordinating conjunctions to begin three sentences in the last paragraph...sue me.

Now, before my fellow English teacher friends get their panties in a figurative wad, I am not saying that poor English usage is unimportant. I just believe that if we spend our days constantly pointing the finger at all of our friends and associates who carelessly misuse a word now and again, we really aren't any better off than the hoodlum who must keep one hand on his butt skimmers at all times. Whether we are pointing a finger, or giving our friends an unsolicited V-8 whack up side the head every time they have a slip of the tongue (or pen), we are more like the droopy-drawered criminal than we may want to admit. Think about it: We are both without the use of one hand, we are both menaces to society, and we both run the risk of being hated even more than we already are. Truth be told, English teachers have far more enemies than your average baggy-pantsed gangsta.

So the next time you see the misuse of a simple thing like 'then' and 'than' remember, you have two choices: You can kindly make a mental note not to ask that particular friend or loved one to edit your next thesis, or you can get out your smug, judgmental English teacher pointer finger and call attention to the mistake for all to see. Just be prepared to lose something more important than your pants if you choose the latter...