Baseball is over and won't return for 6 months. Theo and Tito are gone, one to Chicago and the other to God knows where.
Trot is on a record setting pace to shatter the Kindergarten "Get on Yellow" prize, Rakes is asking me what "gay" means, and Ciera is THIS close to me shipping her off to Alaska to live out her teenage years, although if I did I'm pretty sure some Eskimo in the middle of nowhere would find her and my stomach ulcer will go Defcon 5 no matter what I do.
So I'm left to become obsessed with a show called "Bar Rescue", which is really nothing more than "Kitchen Nightmares", only this time without a foul mouthed English dude. In his place is a foul mouthed dude with big eyes and male pattern baldness who "fixes" bars by showing the clueless owners how their inept staff is costing them money by over pouring and how drunk people REALLY want more edible food.
If I learned one thing over the past week or so it's this.
I REALLY need to get a hobby.
Or MLB seriously needs to look into going year round.