Can I Be Frank & Crew?

On Thursday my wife took a look at this weekend’s forecast, saw that it would be in the 60’s & Sunny, and like the Swallows Returning To Capistrano, her natural instinct was to instantly demand that we go Apple Picking / Get Pumpkins.  I quickly tried to schedule a last minute colonoscopy but the nurse saying something about “not medically necessary” and my wife holding an 8 iron threatening to pull her best Elle Woods imitation convinced me to concede  So today we took the trek up to Parlee Farms. This is going to come as a shock but I had some thoughts while wading through the sea of humanity having a quintessential New England Fall Experience.

• God bless them but somehow Parlee doesn’t charge for parking.  Considering there were easily 1000 cars there, I’m thinking there’s a wasted business opportunity there.
• Speaking of parking. I felt like I was at the Burlington Mall in December. I had cars following me as I wheeled the pumpkins to the car. I had to tell 4 different cars that I wasn’t actually leaving just dropping off
• I could not believe the amount of High School Aged Basic White Girls in official BWG uniform (High Boots, Leggings, Puffy Vest) dragging their boyfriends around taking selfies.  Fellas if you’re reading this 2 things. #1. Don’t put up with that. Let her go with her friends, she’ll have a way better time. This is not the girl you’re going to spend the rest of your life with so don’t waste a Football Sunday getting dragged around.  #2. Why the fuck are you reading this?  It’s a blog by a bunch of Cantankerous Middle Aged white guys, who all think 2001 was like 4 years ago, and Leah, who is quite lovely, but A) you guys would consider a cougar and B) wouldn’t be able to pick her up until your knowledge of wine goes beyond Arbor Mist.  But I digress.
• How in the name of God is there not a bar here?  You sell apple cider donuts (fantastic by the way) apple crisp, and every other fall food item in the world. How on earth can I not get a Shipyard, an Octoberfest or even some Hard Apple Cider?  I would have paid $9 for a beer and not thought twice about it. And by the looks of it, every other guy there would have as well.  Next year when you see the Handsfactor Pavilion (21+) on the far side of the field, you can mention this blog post to bartender Leah for half off your first beer!
• This place should be called Parlee Farms subtitled “Hold Still” sub-subtitled “Look at mommy and say cheese”. Mother’s this is not you and your 2 girlfriend’s posing in the restaurant bathroom taking 42 selfies until you get the right one where your heads are at the right angle and your skinny arm is just so.  Your 3 year old in the pumpkin shirt doesn’t care if your frenemy is going to be soooo jealous when she sees your perfect little angel contemplating which pumpkin to choose or reaching for the Apple on the branch just out of reach (Hint: It’s not a metaphor for their hopes and dreams it’s something they want to throw at the back of your head when you’re not looking) on Instagram.  All your kid knows is Mommy dragged him out to the middle of a field surrounded by pumpkins lying in the dirt but she keeps yelling to stop touching them because they’re dirty and threatening under her breath and gritted teeth to smile and stop crying or she’s going to give you something to really cry about.      If you had a drink in hand you’d be way more mellow.
• Next year on your way in you may see Tobes and PistoffIrishman with a stand outside the grounds. While I’m not sharing the alcohol concession (Pistoff can’t be trusted not to drink our stock) I will toss them a bone and have them open a Starbucks franchise outside so all those BWG’s can get their Spiced Pumpkin Latte fix right there. For an extra $5 they’ll even throw leaves up in the air while you snap your selfie.

Now my fall penance is done as my wife thankfully doesn’t see the point of driving to New Hampshire for leaf peeping (we probably wouldn’t be married if she did) so now it’s back to weekends of football on the couch and crockpot meals. Two things I can get behind.

My next seasonal penance won’t be until after Thanksgiving. Rollie’s Christmas Tree Farm you’re on notice as to how to improve my experience *Hint – Hot Chocolate Stand with optional Peppermint Schnaaps*

Confession: I have an addiction that I’ve carried for 20 years.  Like most people I got hooked in High School,  My friends were all doing it and encouraged me to try it, I didn’t want to be the only one not doing it so I gave it a shot.  Let me tell you I loved it, it was exhilarating. Like most addictions I thought I had everything under control and I could handle it. But within a couple of years my addiction had doubled then tripled. It seemed like all my money was being poured into this habit and inevitably I grew to hate it and myself a little bit.  I saw other people drop the addiction and up until 2 weeks ago I never thought I could be one of those people, doomed to live with it until I died. But it’s been 2 weeks free & clear now, and the sun shine is brighter, the air smells cleaner, & food tastes better.  The temptation is always there especially now that it’s easier than ever to get it, but I remain strong.     My name is Handsfactor and I’m a recovering Fantsy Football addict.

This is the first time since 1995 I haven’t played Fantasy and I highly recommend it.  The first time since Clinton was in office,having Monica Hoover his Arkansas Razorback, that the only Football games I’ve cared about are the Pats & whatever wagers I happen to have going.  I no longer care that Chicago’s kicker hit a 52 yard FG, so that gives me an extra bonus point. In fact I don’t even know who the Bears kicker is! A fact that would have been I fathomable to me a couple of years ago.

Besides you know Fantsy Football has jumped the shark when the 50 year old mother of 3 is talking about how she was excited that Jamaal Charles fell to her at the #3 pick.  Much like Facebook if it’s something my wife’s grandmother is doing then it’s probably not cool anymore.  Football Sunday’s are supposed to be wonderful, you eat bad food, day drink on a Sunday afternoon and lie around the house for anywhere from 3 – 10 hours, and it’s perfectly acceptable.  So why taint such a glorious experience by having your mood ruined because Kenny Britt only had 48 yards receiving when you needed him to have 50+?  The only time I want to be upset after watching football on a Sunday is because someone didn’t cover the spread, and then I’m not even that mad because I can just double up my Monday Night bet & win it back  (It’s not like I’m going to lose 2 in a row!)  So now that I’ve kicked my addiction, my life can best be summed up by quoting the noted 20th Century Philosopher, Pipes Slattery, “My only vices are Drinking, Drugs & Black Women!”