You know what's weird . . .

All the prozac commercials during David Letterman.

Isn't that like promoting your competition? I mean, where is his faith in himself? He IS the prozac.

And you know what else is weird? My twins are reading a book. The other night I couldn't get twin #1 to go to bed because he was glued to this book. The next day twin #2 stayed home from school sick, picked up the same book and read all day. And then this morning I had to yell "GET TO SCHOOL!" because he was standing at the front door with his backpack slung across his shoulders, READING. Now they're bickering about who gets more time with the book.

Mahalo Rick Riordan and Percy Jackson!

And another weird thing--my bathrooms are clean. The rest of my house is a mess, but my bathrooms are clean, which means my 2010 Bucket List is accomplished.

Now what am I going to do with the rest of my year?

But you wanna know the weirdest thing of all?

In order for me to tell you I'll have to do something I've never done before. I'll have to poke fun at something. And that something would be the beet diggers.

(Bless my heart, and theirs.)

Is it just me or as a school mascot do beet diggers fail to make your heart pound and your pulse race? I've never seen a beet digger yet with the eye of the tiger.

Luckily their school is bee-U-tiful and is located in a hip area--I would move there myself if I wasn't allergic to beets.

Luckily their school is clever too. They try to make lemonade out of lemons by creating t-shirts that say things like, "Just Beet It," and "I'm a dead-beet" and my personal favorite, "please don't beet me."

But still, I think they are having an identity crisis. Are they beets or are they beet diggers? It's hard to tell sometimes.

Don't you think a better logo would be: Champions Aren't Born . . . They're Grown.

Or hows about: Champions Aren't Born . . . They're Picked.

Get it? Beets are grown . . . and picked? (ba dum bum)

(Did I just underestimate your intelligence?)

I don't know why this beet-head is Disco dancing, but at least he looks mean. I'll give him that.

I was sitting in the Beet Digger gym not two days ago, watching my daughter play basketball and thinking to myself, "aw, look at that sweet old man painted on the gym wall, bent over with his pickaxe, pulling up those beets. He looks like the kinda guy I could sit on my front porch and talk story with until the cows come home."

But that's now what I'm s'pose to be thinking during an athletic competition. I need that sweet old man to rise up and raise his pickaxe over his head with a crazed look in his eye. Better yet, he should swap his pickaxe for a sickle so we can all tremble as we wonder whether or not he's going to thrust in his sickle with all his heart, might, mind and strength.

Even if they keep the pickaxe, the beet diggers desperately need a mascot makeover.

Something like this:

Ya get me?

Or do you think I'm weird?