Happy Day After
Puppy Bowl VII The Super Bowl! If you are anything like me, you are likely regretting some decisions made yesterday. Between the food coma/hangover/depression for not mortgaging the house on a safety as the first points (50-1 odds) the Monday after Super Bowl Sunday really should be a holiday. Somewhat like New Year’s Day being a recovery holiday for the night before.
Instead you are trying to avoid responsibility and wondering if your girlfriend’s buffalo chicken dip is still good (Sidenote: why do girls love making buffalo chicken dip? I think they love it more than Pinterest and that’s saying something.) Nonetheless, if you are reading, congratulations: you have made it to the next day. Even so, you may want to call your friend. You know who I am talking about. The guy who took the loss a little too hard last night. Maybe he is a Patriots fan or at least had way too much money on the coin flip. No matter, if you can’t find them I would suggest looking in the following places:
Perhaps your friend ended up like Andrew Toothman; completely naked wearing only a pair of black boots sitting in an aisle at a grocery store. Toothman, 22, apparently broke into the store by busting out the stores front door. According to police he discharged several fire extinguishers and covered himself in peanut butter and chocolate. While this is somewhat weird, police report that Toothman used NyQuil to spell out “Sorry” on the floor.
That explains a lot. NyQuil absolutely destroys me. I’m not really sure if it helps me feel better when I am sick because, whenever I take it, it’s an out of body experience. Hallucinations, crazy dreams, sleep talking/walking/binge eating. If your friend ended up taking a bottle of NyQuil following the Super Bowl you better hope he only ended up like a Reese’s cup in Uggs. NyQuil is bad news bears. Toothman found this out the hard way as he has been charged with burglary, criminal mischief, and indecent exposure. At least for Andrew (and possibly your friend) he already apologized. That has to count for something.
Everybody has a friend like this. Perhaps he got a little too sauced up on grandpa’s old cough syrup. Maybe ate too many slices of za. While everyone else is filtering out the door your friend is kicking up the footrest and settling in for the night. Grabbing a blanket and flipping through the channels. If this is your friend, remove him from the chair immediately unless you want to be charged with reckless homicide, neglect, and perjury. Those are the charges facing Vickie Holdcraft, 58, after her sister died following three weeks spent decomposing in a chair. And I just threw up a meatball.
Priscilla Frieberger and Holdcraft lived together in Lawrenceburg, Indiana. Holdcraft called police for her “morbidly obese” sister. The ambulance crew, however, could not get through the front door to help because the house was full of trash. Frieberger could not get down the stairs (whose genius idea was it for her to be upstairs is my question) and thus was left to sit in her chair. Unable to move, Frieberger’s “rotting skin started to stick to the chair’s fabric.” And up comes some chicken wings. Rescue workers had to break a window to get her into an ambulance. I will spare you the rest of the details of the living conditions. The report states, however, “you could barely walk through the place.” Yikes.
Police are still looking for Holdcraft, although neighbors say she still lives at the house. Apparently a hoarder’s house makes for a good hiding place. Nonetheless, if your buddy is still lamenting Super Bowl XLVI, I would advise making sure he gets up before he gets sticky. And up comes my football shaped cookies (laces out of course).
Hopefully everyone enjoyed the Super Bowl. Congratulations to all the New
Jersey York Giants’ fans and for all you Patriots’ fans . . . at least your recliner is covered in rotting flesh. So you got that going for ya.
Post image from Shutterstock