Baby Daddy 27: Winning and Losing

First of all, I need to say a special "hello" to Ukraine. I don't know what happened, but y'all lit my shit UP this weekend! Based on some of the referring URLs, I'm guessing I made it onto a Ukrainian porn site. Not sure how that happens, but I guess I'm flattered?  Either way, it is refreshing to see yet another former Soviet Union country reading my shit.

(Yes, this is how I assume Ukrainians read my blog. Fuck you, I don't know how it gets printed in the news.)

Now, onto business. This past weekend was intense. On Friday, after dating for a decade, Noelle and Brad (Game Night  Friends) got married. In true fashion, it was a courthouse marriage. With one being a professed atheist, and another being a true agnostic, it was very entertaining to hear the volunteer Baptist minister talk about the two entering into a marriage blessed by Jesus Christ, and bound by a fear of G-d. Because, you know, Jesus.

In other news, we had a Baby Shower. We had a bunch of people come over, we got a lot of items that were critical, and I drank my lunch and dinner. That's it. It was a great time, but not one with a particular story. Tod-d was there. He gave our baby an airline bottle of Jack Daniel's. He is truly the Drunk Uncle. Drunk Uncle Tod-d.

Then, most importantly, we had the Super Bowl. That's right, sports! Patriots won. I don't rightly care. What I do care about? The wing cook-off. My wife, Ahmed, and I each entered into gladiatorial combat. My wife fixed two flavors of wing. Ahmed fixed two flavors of wing. I fixed one flavor of wing. Everyone was trying to figure out how to name their respective wings. Do you know what I called mine? WINNER!!!! That's right!! I fucking won!! Do you have any idea how goddamn rare and lucky that is?! It's like Godzilla and King Kong going to war, and Tokyo coming out as the fucking champion! Seriously. Ahmed and my wife are both known for being the best cooks in our group. And I fucking won?

Do you want to know my first thought, after the votes were tallied? Hot damn! Do you know what my second thought was? Oh, shit. Why? Because I literally just beat my wife in an area that she is far superior. Not only that, but I beat my preggers wife. And yes, I used the sentence because it is rare that anyone can say they beat their preggers wife and not sound like the biggest shit in the world. And you know what? I was correct. We got home, my wife hugged and congratulated me, and then she immediately asked what type of bullshit I pulled to win the competition.

Of course, the answer was simple. I made American wings. My wife's wings were very distinctly Chinese. Ahmed's wings were very distinctly Mediterranean. My wings were Southwestern. They were salty, spicy, and buttery. Except for one person, the judges were all Americans. They were looking for something hotter. Mine stood out. I actually think my wife's honey glazed wings were the best. Mine were closer to a traditional hot wing. I imagine that, with my flavor pallet, my wife could perfect the spices in my recipe. Until then, I will simply relish in the fact that a busted watch is on point every so often.

Moral of the Story: My wings won, and I am most assuredly going to lose when my wife reads this story.