Spit Happens, But So Does PR
Of all the things I expected to be discussing during the Bills’ bye week, having two players accused of spitting at opponents during the same game probably ranks somewhere between Sean McDermott becoming a TikTok influencer and the Bills finally figuring out how to defend a screen pass. Yet here we are, with C.J. Gardner-Johnson and Sam Franklin Jr. making headlines for something you’d expect to see from a couple of fourth graders fighting over the last chocolate milk in the cafeteria.
But what I find more fascinating than the actual incidents is the reaction to both players, particularly how certain members of the Buffalo media have gone out of their way to defend Franklin. In fact, the more I’ve listened to the coverage, the more I’ve wondered whether we’re witnessing a full-court public relations press from Franklin’s representatives, the Bills organization, or some combination of the two.
Let’s start with Gardner-Johnson, whose incident was pretty straightforward. He got caught spitting in the direction of Raiders players, was ejected, apologized afterward, and had his one-game suspension upheld on appeal. He did something incredibly stupid, got caught, and now the Bills will be without a starting safety. For a guy who already came to Buffalo with a reputation for being a hothead, it’s not exactly shocking that he’d get himself into trouble. For most of content creators and media…it was get this guy off the team, which is totally fine. I kind of said that as well. I even feel there was some anticipation that he could get cut and saying he needs to be cut could have gone with saying it based on predicting he’d be gone. Alas, the Bills are going with him until further notice.
Gardner-Johnson’s situation, however, isn’t really the interesting one. That distinction belongs to Franklin.
Franklin was accused of spitting at Raiders offensive lineman D.J. Glaze during an extra-point attempt. He denied the accusation, appealed his one-game suspension, and ultimately had it reduced to a $14,926 fine for unsportsmanlike conduct. His representatives were extremely aggressive in defending him, insisting that he never spat at anyone while also pointing to footage that appeared to show Glaze striking him below the belt.
And here’s where the whole thing starts getting weird to me.
I have absolutely no idea whether Sam Franklin spit at anyone. From the publicly available footage, there’s no conclusive evidence that he did, but there’s also no conclusive evidence proving that he didn’t. It’s spit. It can come in all shapes. His successful appeal certainly suggests there were grounds to reconsider the punishment, but it isn’t the same as establishing beyond any doubt what actually happened.
I’d like to know who accused him of spitting? Did a ref claim to see it but didn’t want to grab the flag? Did the Raiders call the league the next day to rat out Franklin? Also, if he’s cleared…wtf is he being fined for?
There’s a ton of inconclusive evidence with not much being flushed out, especially from the Vegas and league side of things.
Yet listening to some of the reactions, you’d think Franklin had just been cleared of murder after a brilliant courtroom defense by Vincent Gambini in My Cousin Vinny, with Mona Lisa Vito delivering the expert testimony that saved his ass. His agents were adamant. Franklin was adamant. And what really caught my attention was how passionately some members of the Buffalo media seemed to embrace his defense.
Lance Lysowski of The Buffalo News had an interesting take in one of his weekly Around the NFL columns about the Sam Franklin suspension and how the NFL handled the entire situation.
And to be fair, I don’t necessarily disagree with what he’s saying. He makes some valid points about the league rushing to announce suspensions before appeals are heard and how social media immediately turns everyone into judge, jury and executioner.
But here’s my question: How much actual reporting went into this? Did he talk to anyone at the NFL? Did he reach out to Franklin, his representatives or anyone involved in the appeals process? Did he call the Raiders? Or is this simply his opinion based on the same information the rest of us have? Because there’s a difference between reporting something and drawing conclusions from it. He suggests Franklin was judged because of C.J. Gardner-Johnson’s actions, but how does he know that? That’s a pretty significant accusation to make without explaining where it came from.
I’m not saying reporters shouldn’t report what Franklin or his representatives have to say. Of course they should. Nor am I suggesting that Franklin is guilty simply because the NFL initially suspended him. What I find curious is the certainty surrounding a situation where the available evidence doesn’t seem to warrant that level of certainty, especially since we went from he spit to he didn’t.
I can’t help wondering how much of that messaging is coming directly from the people representing Franklin, or perhaps even from people inside One Bills Drive.
To me, part of this whole thing has the fingerprints of a full-court PR campaign. That’s my interpretation, not something I can prove, but anyone who has spent enough time around media understands how these things can work. A representative calls a reporter, provides some background, offers a particular interpretation of events, and suddenly that perspective starts becoming part of the larger conversation.
There’s also another angle to this that I can’t completely dismiss, and that’s Joe Brady.
When you have two players accused of spitting at opponents in the same game, the conversation inevitably starts shifting from the individual players to the head coach.
Has Brady lost control of the locker room?
Is he doing enough to establish discipline?
Is this the kind of culture the Bills want associated with their organization?
Give people two incidents in the same afternoon, and suddenly we’re having a referendum on leadership, accountability, and whether the coach has the respect of his players.
And let’s not pretend the Bills aren’t incredibly protective of their head coach and the image of the organization. That’s why part of me wonders whether this full-court press to defend Franklin has less to do with Franklin himself and more to do with making sure the narrative doesn’t become that Joe Brady has a discipline problem on his hands.
What makes this even more unusual is that we’re talking about Sam Franklin Jr. This isn’t someone like Reid Ferguson, who’s been with the Bills forever and developed relationships with practically everyone covering the organization. Franklin is in his second season with Buffalo. He’s a special teams captain, which obviously means he has the respect of his teammates, but he’s hardly someone who has spent a decade building a reputation around Western New York or a locker room quote machine. No one gets sound from a special teams player unless they had a giant play in a game.
Maybe Franklin is a tremendous person, and everyone who knows him genuinely believes he would never do something like this. Maybe people covering the team have been shown additional evidence that hasn’t been made public. Maybe the NFL completely overreacted when it initially suspended him.
All of those things are possible.
But so is the possibility that we simply don’t know everything that happened.
And that’s ultimately what bothers me about the coverage. There’s a difference between reporting that Franklin’s agents insist he’s innocent and treating that position as established fact. There’s a difference between pointing out that the NFL didn’t have sufficient grounds to sustain a suspension and suggesting that Franklin was the victim of some grand conspiracy. Narratives don’t always develop organically and sometimes people with a vested interest in a particular outcome work very hard to make sure their version of events gets heard.
If Franklin didn’t spit, then he deserves to have his name cleared. If the NFL got it wrong, the league should be criticized. But neither of those possibilities requires us to invent elaborate theories about the league manipulating national headlines or pretend that the evidence answers every question.
And at the end of the day, I’m not particularly interested in declaring Sam Franklin guilty or innocent. I’m interested in why so many people seem determined to declare him one or the other when there’s still uncertainty surrounding what actually happened.
Sometimes the most responsible thing a reporter, commentator, or fan can say is three simple words:
I don’t know.
Apparently, when it comes to spitting, those might be the hardest three words in the English language.
Stathead of the Week: Does the Bye Week Help First-Year NFL Head Coaches?
One of the more impressive statistics from the Sean McDermott era in Buffalo was his record immediately following a bye week. In nine seasons with the Bills, McDermott went a perfect 9–0, winning every single game following the team’s week off. That’s a 100% winning percentage, which is pretty damn impressive considering how unpredictable the NFL can be.
But that got me thinking about something else. What about coaches in their first season with a new team?
Whenever a new coach takes over a franchise, we hear the same clichés. They’re implementing a new system. Players are still learning the terminology. Everyone needs time to get comfortable with the coaching staff. The offense is a work in progress. The defense hasn’t completely figured things out. You know the drill.
And whenever the bye week rolls around, we hear another round of clichés about how the extra week gives coaches an opportunity to evaluate personnel, make adjustments, clean up mistakes and get everyone on the same page.
Fair enough. But does any of that actually translate into victories?
I decided to go back to 2010 and examine every NFL head coach in his first full season with a franchise, including experienced coaches taking over new teams. I looked at their first regular-season game immediately following the bye and whether their team eventually made the playoffs. The numbers aren’t pretty… But let’s consider that most of these teams probably aren’t very good. Hence why they have new coaches who took over a squad that was probably bad the year before. The Bills, who are coming off a bye, don’t fall under that category.
Here’s what I found.
From 2010 through 2025, first-year NFL head coaching teams compiled a combined 50–58–2 record in their first game following a bye week.
That’s a 46.4% winning percentage across 110 games, with ties counting as half a victory.
And of those 110 teams, 31 eventually made the playoffs, representing 28.2% of the group.
Five Things That Stood Out
1. The bye week wasn’t exactly a magic solution. Despite all the talk about making adjustments and giving players additional time to learn new systems, first-year coaching teams still finished below .500 immediately after the bye. The extra preparation certainly sounds beneficial, but the overall results don’t suggest it guarantees much of anything.
2. What the hell happened in 2019? Eight franchises had new head coaches that season, and every single one lost its first game following the bye. That’s 0–8, including Matt LaFleur’s Packers getting demolished 37–8 by San Francisco. And LaFleur’s Packers still finished 13–3 and reached the NFC Championship Game.
3. Playoff teams were a completely different animal. Of the 31 first-year coaching teams that eventually made the playoffs, 23 won their first game after the bye. That’s a 74.2% winning percentage. The 79 teams that missed the playoffs went 27–50–2, good for just 35.4%. Maybe the better teams were simply better teams, regardless of how much extra coaching they received during their week off.
4. The 2022 rookie coaching class had quite a year. Ten teams entered the season with new head coaches, and six won following their bye. Five eventually made the playoffs, including Brian Daboll’s Giants, Doug Pederson’s Jaguars and Kevin O’Connell’s Vikings. Not bad for a group supposedly still figuring out their new systems.
5. McDermott was an outlier, even compared with successful coaches. McDermott won his first game after the bye in 2017, his first season in Buffalo, and then proceeded to do it eight more times. Even among first-year coaches who eventually reached the playoffs, the post-bye winning percentage was 74.2%. McDermott maintaining a perfect record for nine seasons was a pretty remarkable accomplishment.
Asshole of the Week: James Dolan
Rooting for the New York Knicks is like rooting for House Lannister in Game of Thrones when Cersei is in charge. You want Tyrion and Jaime to succeed, but you absolutely cannot stand the person sitting on the Iron Throne.
That’s James Dolan.
And after what happened this past week, I don’t know how anyone can defend this guy.
First, there’s the whole situation with the Knicks assistant coaches not receiving their championship rings on opening night. They were reportedly handed empty ring boxes during the ceremony. Look, maybe there’s a legitimate reason for the delay. Whatever. It is what it is. I don’t agree with it, but I can at least hear an explanation.
You’re a billionaire. You own Madison Square Garden. You have F-you money. You can afford to take care of the people who helped your organization win a championship.
But what really pisses me off is what happened with the employees.
According to The Athletic, MSG sent employees an email congratulating them on receiving complimentary Knicks championship rings. They could even choose between two designs.
Sounds pretty awesome, right?
Except it was all bullshit.
It was a fake email designed as a cybersecurity phishing test. Employees who clicked the link weren’t getting rings. They were getting mandatory cybersecurity training.
Are you fucking kidding me?
It’s not like somebody sent these employees a random email promising them a date with Angela White or Luna Star if they clicked some suspicious link. This was a work-related email promising them something that actually made sense after the team had just won a championship!
Imagine working your ass off for an organization, celebrating its success, thinking you’re getting a little recognition, and then finding out you’ve been duped into taking a cybersecurity class.
What an absolutely douchebag move.
Now the Knicks decided to do some damage control and decide to give everyone rings and said their catfishing expo was a mistake. Still, this is the same owner who tried to blame Zohran for security when his buddy came to watch a Knicks game and why their watch party was canceled. In other words, he’s full of shit and let me know in a few months if the missing rings get made by Gollum Dolan.
And here’s the thing: I actually like the Knicks. They’re probably my favorite NBA team, although I’ll admit I’m somewhat of a front-runner when it comes to basketball. I want the players to succeed. I want the fans to enjoy this championship.
But James Dolan makes it incredibly difficult to root for the organization.
The guy has more money than he knows what to do with, yet somehow manages to turn what should be a celebration for everyone involved into another story about himself and his organization’s treatment of people.
He’s the Cersei Lannister of NBA ownership. You can love the people fighting for the kingdom while absolutely despising who’s sitting on the throne.
James Dolan, you’re a douchebag, and you’re my Asshole of the Week.
ting suddenly becomes a referendum on someone’s character? Is it the bodily fluids, the humiliation, or simply something athletes have been taught is unacceptable?
I’d genuinely love to ask former players one simple question: Would you rather have an opposing player punch you in the face or spit in your face, and why?
Because it’s pretty remarkable that in sports where people spend their entire careers physically beating the crap out of one another, a little bit of saliva is apparently where we draw the line.
Dad shots
Dad Shot: The Ghost of Alex Tuch
Of course, I only watched the third period of the Sabres game against Washington, which meant I got a front-row seat to Alex Tuch haunting his former team with two goals, including the overtime winner, giving him seven on the season. Fantastic. Just fucking fantastic.
It reminds me of when Daniel Briere left Buffalo for Philadelphia and seemingly made it his personal mission to make the Sabres’ lives a living hell every time they played the Flyers. Now it looks like Tuch might be auditioning for the same role, and I’m not particularly interested in watching the sequel.
Look, I had mixed feelings about keeping Tuch. I understood why the Sabres might not want to commit that kind of money and term to him, especially with the direction they wanted to take the roster. But if you’re going to move on from a player like that, you better have a legitimate replacement lined up. You don’t just wave goodbye to a 30-goal scorer and tell everyone, “Don’t worry, we’ve got the kids.”
That’s not a fucking plan. That’s wishful thinking disguised as organizational philosophy. And for a franchise that has spent what feels like my entire adult life telling fans to be patient because the young guys are eventually going to figure it out, it’s the same old hogwash.
Dad Shot: The War of the Roses, ESPN Edition
Troy Aikman and Joe Buck apparently living together in a broadcast booth like Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner in The War of the Roses is media-on-media crime on steroids. After 25 years together, the two are reportedly at odds over contract negotiations, with Buck getting a new six-year, $108 million deal from ESPN while Aikman is apparently preparing to become a free agent. The fact that this reportedly turned into a heated confrontation before a Monday Night Football game makes the whole thing even more ridiculous.
I honestly don’t know whose side to take here. On one hand, if you’ve been a broadcasting duo for over two decades, you’d think there would be some communication about how to approach negotiations, especially when your partnership has become part of your value to the network. On the other hand, Joe Buck is his own person, and if ESPN wants to give him a boatload of money, why the hell should he be obligated to negotiate as a package deal? This isn’t a marriage, although judging by the reporting, it sure sounds like one heading toward divorce court.
You can also make the argument that ESPN simply values Buck more, especially when you consider that he was given the hosting gig for ESPN Jeopardy! under the Disney umbrella. Meanwhile, the reports suggesting Aikman hasn’t been interested in doing much beyond Monday Night Football do seem to track with what we see on television. You rarely see him appearing on other ESPN programming, and while I don’t know what his contractual obligations are, it’s fair to wonder whether that factors into how the network views the two.
The whole thing is fascinating because these guys have worked together longer than some marriages last, and now we’re getting reports about hurt feelings, secret negotiations, and arguments inside the booth. I like them both as broadcasters, and I don’t particularly care which one makes more money, but there’s something hilarious about two guys who have spent a quarter-century analyzing NFL locker room drama suddenly becoming their own version of it.
At this point, I half expect ESPN to install separate entrances to the booth, with Lisa Salters playing the role of marriage counselor. And if things get any worse, maybe Buck and Aikman can settle their differences by dropping a chandelier on each other.
Dad Shot: Softball Bill
I hate to keep talking shit about Bill Maher, but the guy is very smug that I feel like someone needs to remind him of it every single week. I only saw clips of his Real Time interview with former White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt, but Jesus Christ, what an embarrassing display. This is a person who lied every single day she was on the job. But, yes, lets kiss the presidents ass and talk about the need of a ballroom while ignoring every legal ramification needed to build it. Dork.
Maher has always been a subpar interviewer, and his greatest talent seems to be convincing himself he’s the smartest person in every room while looking down on everyone else.
At this point, I feel like Maher has alienated so much of his original left-leaning audience that he’s decided his next career move is to pander to the very people he used to make fun of. He seems more interested in being congratulated for talking to people he disagrees with than actually challenging anything they say. And there’s a difference between having someone on your show to engage in a meaningful conversation and having them on so you can remind everyone how brave and intellectually superior you are for inviting them.
The whole appeal of Real Time used to be that people with different viewpoints would actually challenge one another. Now it increasingly feels like an hour of Maher congratulating himself for being Bill Maher. I don’t know who still finds this entertaining, but I’m certainly not one of them.
But congrats to him for brown nosing how nice Trump was at a dinner and then getting this thank you for coming card
It’s as if the dinner party host was the caretaker from The Shining.
Dad Shot: The National Anthem Police Are Back
Nothing is dumber than watching people dissect national anthem etiquette like they’re examining a Sydney Sweeney ad frame by frame to see if they can spot a nipple.
This week’s manufactured outrage involves LeBron James practicing his golf swing during the national anthem, which naturally sent the usual right-wing outrage merchants into another frenzy about disrespecting the flag.
People, it’s not like LeBron grabbed a microphone and announced he was going to disrespect America. The guy was standing around, moving his arms, and someone filming from the stands caught him like a sniper looking for a target. Now we’re supposed to have a national conversation about his patriotism because he worked on his golf swing for a few seconds?
Furthermore, who gives a fuck?
I’ve never understood why we play the national anthem before every sporting event in the first place. I don’t need to hear The Star-Spangled Banner before watching two teams play basketball. As far as I’m concerned, it’s just another three minutes to get to your seat while paying $14 for an overpriced hot dog.
Then, of course, Fox & Dumb Fucking Friends and the rest of the outrage machine picked up on the Atlanta Dream and Golden State Valkyries leaving the court before the national anthem, acting like this was some brand-new assault on American values.
Except there’s one small problem. This has been going on for years. Atlanta has been doing it for several seasons, Golden State has done it since joining the league in 2025, and WNBA teams have been leaving the court during the anthem for years. The league even suspended its anthem protocols back in 2017. But why bother with context when you can manufacture another controversy?
Ah yes, remember when election season was all about the evil migrant caravan supposedly coming from South America to steal your Range Rover parked in the driveway of your Clarence home? The whole point was to make you angry, make you scared, and convince you that civilization was about to collapse unless somebody did something about it.
Well, apparently we can add the National Anthem Police to the rotation. Never mind inflation, healthcare, or anything that might actually affect your life. We’ve got basketball players leaving the court for two minutes, and apparently that’s the real national emergency.
I swear, if these people spent half as much time worrying about actual problems as they do monitoring who stands, kneels, stretches, or scratches their balls during the national anthem, we might actually accomplish something in this country.
If standing perfectly still during a song is your definition of patriotism, congratulations, you’ve turned loving your country into a game of musical statues. And apparently, LeBron lost.
Dad Shot: “Who He Play For?” Is Why Inside the NBA Is Still the Best Sports Show on Television
“Who He Play For?” on Thursday night was absolutely epic, and it reminded me why Inside the NBA is still the gold standard of sports television. What makes the show so great is its authenticity and candor. Nobody is afraid to be wrong, look like an idiot, or laugh at themselves. Watch almost any other pregame or studio show and you’ll see the same forced laughter, rehearsed banter, and personalities desperately trying to convince you they’re having fun. It comes across as phony. With these guys, you know it’s genuine.
I watched the segment Friday morning after waking up at 6:45, and I was laughing my ass off. I’m barely awake, and somehow watching Charles Barkley struggle to figure out who the hell these NBA players play for has me cracking up before I’ve even had breakfast. And can we talk about how amazing Shaq is on television? The guy could practically be an actor with the way his facial expressions tell an entire story. You know exactly when he’s happy, pissed off, confused, embarrassed, or completely disgusted without him saying a word. Sometimes watching Shaq react to Charles is funnier than anything Charles actually says.
That’s what separates Inside the NBA from everyone else. They’re not sitting around trying to manufacture viral moments or forcing chemistry that doesn’t exist. They’re just four guys busting each other’s balls, having fun, and letting the comedy happen naturally. Every sports network has spent years trying to duplicate that formula, and none of them have come close.
Dad Shot: Fuck Vote Blue No Matter Who. Vote for New Hope.
No one wants to hear me pontificate about voting, but too fucking bad. It’s my website.
Look, I’ve always compared the Democratic Party to that person at a party who just wants everyone to get along. Let’s not piss anyone off, Let’s not rock the boat, Let’s not do too much, and let’s worry about reaching the other side that won’t vote for us to begin with. Meanwhile, the Republican Party has gone completely insane, following the whims of a madman in the White House, and the Democrats are still trying to figure out how to politely disagree without hurting anyone’s feelings.
There are some good-ass Democrats out there who I genuinely believe in, like Zohran Mamdani, AOC, and Bernie Sanders. And I do think their approach has started rubbing off on other politicians who are realizing that maybe, just maybe, people want someone who actually stands for something instead of another carefully rehearsed talking point written by 14 consultants.
Those are the kinds of politicians I’m interested in voting for. I’m not interested in the Stephen A. Smith Democrats or the Bill Maher Democrats, where the biggest concern seems to be getting back to a world where you can call a woman at work “hon” without someone getting upset and want to debate transgenders playing sports so they can fit in with the crazy right wingers
And I’m not going to sit here and tell everyone to vote blue no matter who, because I think that’s stupid, too. Political parties aren’t sports teams. You shouldn’t have to defend every shitty decision just because someone is wearing your jersey.
Fuck that. Vote for whoever gives you hope. Vote for someone who makes you believe things can actually get better, who has ideas beyond keeping the other side out of office, and who doesn’t treat your support like something they’re automatically entitled to.
That’s all I’ve got. Now back to sports, fatherhood, and whatever else I feel like bitching about on my own website.
Dad Shot: Coughing, Cursing, and Hot Dogs
It was quite the adventurous and bizarre week at the Joe from Queens household, where Andy apparently decided to experience every possible childhood milestone in the span of seven days, from getting sick to discovering the F-word to dressing up as a hot dog vendor.
First off, Andy got sick after our trip to the zoo and developed this absolutely brutal cough. It got to the point where I was going into his bedroom six different times a night, sleeping on the floor next to him until he fell asleep. Then I’d quietly get up, sneak back into my own bed, and about 20 minutes later, I’d hear him calling for me again. It was basically the world’s worst game of musical chairs, except every chair was a cold hard floor, nobody was having fun, and I was losing my mind.
We eventually took him to the pediatrician, who did a fantastic job. Things were actually serious enough that they considered sending him to the hospital, but thankfully, they were able to give him a breathing treatment and send us home with something he had to breathe through for the next couple of days.
So Andy ended up staying home for two straight days, which meant we broke one of our biggest parenting rules.
We’re essentially a screen-free household, with two exceptions: Buffalo Bills games and about 30 minutes of Daniel Tiger a week. That’s it. But with Andy sick, we basically turned our living room into the Daniel Tiger Broadcasting Corporation. It was Daniel Tiger all day, every day, and let me tell you something: I now understand why parents love television so much.
My God, was parenting easy! Outside of the coughing, it was a dream. No negotiating, no chasing him around the house, no trying to convince him that putting on pants isn’t a violation of his constitutional rights. Just Daniel Tiger doing his thing while Daddy enjoyed a moment of peace. I felt like I had discovered some forbidden parenting cheat code.
Of course, the universe decided to balance things out by introducing Andy to another wonderful part of childhood: profanity.
Yes, my three-year-old has discovered the F-word. And I’m not talking about fun, family, or football. I’m talking about the F-dash-dash-dash word that Ralphie famously used in A Christmas Story.
And this kid doesn’t just casually say it. Oh no. He delivers a full-throated, enthusiastic “FUCK YOU!” with the kind of conviction you’d expect from someone getting thrown out of a Buffalo dive bar at 1:45 in the morning.
The first time I heard it was about a week ago in the car. I immediately turned around and asked, “What did you just say?”
He looked at me, smiled, and said it again.
WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?
Now, anyone who knows me or has listened to me on a podcast knows that I absolutely love swearing. It’s one of my specialties. I speak two languages fluently: English and cursing. However, since becoming a father, I’ve made a conscious effort to clean up my vocabulary around the kids. I’ve basically turned into a character from The Good Place, walking around the house saying things like “holy poop” and “fork that.”
So naturally, I’m wondering where the hell this kid picked it up. After doing some investigative reporting that would make 60 Minutes proud, I finally traced the source to someone at school.
So far, I’m the only parent who’s heard him say it. The Mrs. has somehow avoided this milestone, which is probably a good thing because the second she hears Andy drop an F-bomb, she’s going to look directly at me and say, “That’s YOU.”
And no amount of evidence, eyewitness testimony, or DNA testing is going to convince her otherwise.
To cap off this ridiculous week, we also participated in a Halloween parade in Astoria, where we dressed up as a hot dog family, with Andy playing the role of the hot dog vendor, I was ketchup, the Mrs. Was mustard, Luke was a hot dog, and the stroller was a custom made hot dog cart that was made by the Mrs.
And yes, we’re trying to win a Halloween costume contest for the third straight year. We’ve officially become that annoying family that takes these contests way too seriously because there’s free swag and food involved.
Some families want to create beautiful Halloween memories. We want the memories, too, but we also want the prizes.
So that’s where we’re at in the Joe from Queens household. One kid recovering from a nasty cough, discovering the joys of profanity, and selling imaginary hot dogs while his parents chase their third consecutive Halloween championship.
Parenting is one hell of a ride.
