“Have At You!” By Chris Zito

For the last three nights I’ve been engaged in serious sword play with my five-year old son. I haven’t “died a thousand deaths” yet, but I’m getting there.

Turns out Vince is a big pretend patricide fan.

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“Layer Up” By Chris Zito

I’m a boxer man myself, but today we start with one of the few pairs of tighty whities still in the underwear drawer. Not that I’ll need the support. It’s so cold my sack is bound to crawl inside my body as soon as I leave the house. Boom! Instant ovaries!

“Sorry, Dude. It’s just too cold to be testicles today.”

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“Take Me!” by Chris Zito

When I was little my dad couldn’t head toward the door without being accosted by all of us kids.
“Daddy! Where are you going?”
“Can I go?”
“Take me!”
The poor guy couldn’t run out for smokes without a carload of us.

Oh boy, we’re going to pick up the dry cleaning!!! Yay!!!

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“I Can’t Eat That!” By Chris Zito

Ever since reading about me blaming her for my being fat, my wife has been trying more and more to help me watch my weight. She has taken to stocking the house with food I don’t like in an effort to help me lose weight.

She knows darn well I have trouble eating anything I can’t identify.

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“Sorry State” By Chris Zito

Santa brought Vince the classic board game “Sorry” for Christmas. Kimi and I had never played a kid’s board game together before. Vince had “Candyland” and “Chutes and Ladders” of course, but we always tag teamed him on that so the other could get something else, please God anything else, done. For the first time we all sat down during this past week’s snow day to play together.

A friendly family game. What could possibly go wrong?

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“House Hubby” By Chris Zito

For the last ten months I’ve been looking for a new radio job. My wife started looking for work right after the holidays and started a new job on the fifth. I’ve got to get that woman to do my resume for me.

She accomplished with an old Franklin Planner what
I haven’t managed yet with my fancy Droid phone.

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“Resolved: Shave” by Chris Zito

I’ve decided to be more clean-shaven this year. In my line of work shaving isn’t really required.  After all, no one is my boss really. If someone is paying half my social security tax he can tell me when to shave. Otherwise I make my own schedule.

Like some sort of stubble addict I declare, “Hey! I can shave
any time I want! I just don’t want to!”

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