My old Ford looks faster than it is (though it is plenty fast) so I am regularly “challenged” at red lights. I usually just smile and shake my head. One time a kid in some goofball tuner stared me down, then floored it when the light turned. The cop he didn’t see (but I did) was so happy.

Other things to like about the 2015 Mets:

Holy shit, the “avocado”!

He’s like the Lenny Kravitz or No Doubt of acting. Not terribly objectionable, but have somehow carved out a long career despite no one actively liking them. They just turn up all the time and people just sort of accept them.

We got there after about 15 years. What an absolutely preposterous waste of money jewelry is. Bad enough you are expected to spend thousands of dollars on an engagement ring at precisely the time you should be saving up for your house/apartment/wedding reception/pretty much anything else. You are then pressured by…

As a young fellow circumstance would occasionally force me to eat at Sbarro’s, years ago. I would venture it gave me the trots more often than it didn’t. I will go hungry before giving them money.

Sorry to ruin your day but don’t buy the cut-up grocery store fruit. My brother-in-law worked in a grocery store and every day they would gather up the expiring fruit, the stuff that had been dropped, the stuff that was only rotten on one side... cut off all the damaged parts, give it a quick rinse, and presto: fruit…

I can go to Subway and get a couple of slices of pepperoni, salami, ham and fake cheez, with a mountain of brownish shredded iceberg lettuce, on a yeasty sponge for $5. Or I can go to the local guy and get a solid 2” thick pile of imported meats, topped with homemade mozzarella and store-roasted peppers, on…

Grandpa was a butcher. He refused to eat hot dogs. When pressed he said “If you knew what was in them, you wouldn’t eat them either”.

My wife will not eat mushrooms, raw or cooked. Raw onions are verboten, cooked are grudgingly tolerated. Garlic is only acceptable in small doses, and olives are punishable by death. And yet she claims to be Italian. Well, not really, she’s Sicilian. And only half.

My grandma was Hungarian, and her Easter breakfast tradition included several varieties of kielbasa (with some Gold’s horseradish), cheese babka and hard-boiled eggs. Every year it was an effort to leave room for the rest of the Easter foods later in the day. I frequently did not succeed. Kielbasa > Ham.

Yeah, you have to sacrifice a couple of fries for the greater good. They gave their lives so that you can enjoy their brothers!

I actually like most of the tasks people here are complaining about. Mowing the lawn and doing yardwork? You’re outside in the sun, listening to the ballgame, breathing fresh air, chewing some tobacco and taking multiple beer breaks. Toilet stopped working? Even if you can’t figure out what’s wrong, a few clicks will…

Or your kids already have their own house and can sell yours to help pay for your grandkids’ homes and educations. You are looking to build generational wealth. When our parents croak, the wife and I are going to sell their houses and buy some properties with the money and rent them out. Passive income in your old age…

There’s no way to ask this without sounding like a dick, but didn’t you have an engineer look at the house before you bought it? If so, was the guy drunk?

My wife was a stay-at-home Mom and used to frequent the Friendly’s near us now and again, with no big deal either way. So one day she and her Dad and my daughter go in for lunch. They are sitting there a solid 20 minutes without anyone approaching the table. They wave at the hostess who sort of ignores them. Another…

Pork chops do not have to be cooked to death - that’s some kind of weird urban legend or something. They are perfectly edible when still juicy, even showing a tinge of pink.

Many years ago a family from Michigan moved next door to us in outer-borough NYC. Sitting around in their yard getting to know each other, the Mom asks “Would you all like a pop?” and none of us lifelong New Yorkers, aged 10-70, had any idea what she was talking about: “What?” “Pop, would you like some pop?” “What’s…

Autograph hounds are the dregs of humanity. Fat middle-aged losers demanding famous people provide signatures on various items, for what? Without authentication they are completely worthless to try and sell as memorabilia. And to just collect? Why? What possible enjoyment can that provide? I suppose inviting their fat…

Any of those programs are preferable to a bunch of scrawny jagoffs kicking a ball around aimlessly for two hours.