We have this thing here at the office where someone walks down the hall and says the word “plate.” Everyones ears perk up. That single word makes my mouth water. “Plate” simply means “I’m headed over to Nick Tahou’s to get a garbage plate, does anyone else want one?” No need to waste time with bloated sentences. “Plate” gets the point across just fine. Most of the time, there will be 7 or 8 garbage plates ordered. Apparently, yesterday I made a major faux pas. The word “plate” was texted to me during a meeting. By the time I was done with the meeting it was close to 1pm. Most people are already at lunch so I didn’t make the “plate” announcement. Boy, did I hear about it. Mike Danger from PXY, Savage from the CMF promotions department, and several others gave me hell for not asking them. I’ve betrayed their “plate” trust and it will take me some time to rebuild that. I heard there was a “plate” club here at the Entercom family of stations. Once a month they would hit various places around town to try the different versions of the “plates.” I’ve been trying to break into the inner sanctum of the “plate” club and get an invite. Now, those dreams are dashed forever. I’m sorry “plate” friends. Please, let me make it up to you. Have you seen the movie “meet the parents” with Ben Stiller and Robert DeNiro? Jack Byrnes, the head of the Byrnes family, is an ex-CIA agent with quite a few skeletons in the closet. For this reason, Jack has created “The Byrnes Family Circle of Trust.” In Jack’s word’s, “I keep nothing from you, you keep nothing from me. And around and around we go. There are no secrets inside the circle. If you break the circle of trust, you’ll be placed outside the circle. Once you’re out, there’s no coming back.” Please guys, let me back in the “plate” circle. I won’t let you down again.

  A couple of weeks ago I wore a redsox jersey to work. To me, it’s just a shirt that I bought on vacation in Boston over the summer. But apparently to “sports people” it’s either on par with seeing your long lost grandmother, or with seeing satan himself. I wasn’t even to the top of the stairs at work and the comments were already flying. Ok, I get it. Sports is something to talk about. Friendly wagers and nuggies to rub in the fact that your team beat their team, yada yada yada. But the fact that complete strangers comment on a shirt that I’m wearing kind of freaks me out a little. I am not a sports person. Nothing against them, it’s just not my thing. The same day I wore the jersey to work I had to stop and get some groceries on the way home. As I was loading them into my truck I hear “tonight is THE night!” I turned around and there was a guy standing directly behind me. “Excuse me” I said. “Tonight is the night. We’re gonna win this thing.” It really took me about 5 seconds to figure out what the hell this guy was talking about. Without missing a beat I then said “hell to the YEAH” and I high fived the guy. He let out a very manly “yeah” and walked away. I’m sure that made his night. It certainly gave me a chuckle, espicially because I probably couldn’t name a single player on any team except for a few yankees, and I only know them because apparently they make lots of money, use steroids and cheat on their wives with international superstars and think nobody will recognize them walking out of a hotel room. (Thanks for the sports info Perezhilton.com.)

     Today was shaping up just right. I had a doctors appointment this morning with my son Aidan. There was about 40 minutes to get lunch and then get to school. I rolled into the school parking lot with 10 minutes to spare which for me is a small miracle because I’m typically making use of every second of my workdays. But something just didn’t seem right. The parking lot was half empty. The only kids I saw were those hanging out in the villiage as I was driving in. No I didn’t…wait, yes I did. I just drove my kid to school on a day when there IS NO SCHOOL. Only two people at the school saw me make that genius move so lets keep this between us.