17 Week Puns

You look for the fresh prints

Hey guys. As I'm sure most of you know, it's currently Thanksgiving in Canada. This time of year for me has, in the past, caused a lot of issues in my life.

To give a little bit of background on me, I'm usually an extremely healthy and fit guy, as I play high-level sports and have a physically demanding job. However, for much of my life, my willpower began to crumble around this time of year.

I first started taking my diet seriously when I was about 12 years old. I had some kind of realization where like, I dunno, I started looking at how jacked these movie stars were and was all, "wow, I want to be that cool too." Judging by the bowl cut I had when I was 12, my perception of cool may have been a little skewed, but I digress.

Anyhow, it was my first Thanksgiving where everything started falling apart. One of my relative's families ended up no-showing for dinner, so we were left with a load of Thanksgiving leftovers. For the next week, every single meal or snack I had was Thanksgiving themed. Sandwich? Turkey sandwich. Breakfast? Let's dollop some cranberry sauce on that bad boy. By the next week, my BGC (blood gravy content) was probably at like 1.0%.

You'd think I'd be sick of holiday food after that. But no. I loved it.

The tradition of refrigerated Thanksgiving snacks continued throughout the rest of my teen years. Like clockwork, the numbers on the scale would significantly jump upwards in October, with Halloween candy adding an extra layer of calories on top. By the time I reached 17, my waist had begun noticeably ballooning, and I realized it was all due to Thanksgiving turkey. Sure, I had some at Christmas and sometimes at Easter, but never like that. My mother would encourage this habit, making more food each year to be stuffed into our packed refrigerator.

The movie star bod I wanted for so much at the age of 12 was slipping a way. I needed to put an end to this.

Flash forward to October 2015, age 18. I had made a vow: I never again would place such putrid poultry onto my tastebuds. And ever since that fateful week of 2014, my vow had held true.

Each Thanksgiving, I can feel that craving for chilled turkey knocking on the refrigerator door of my fragile ego. For three years, I've held strong. But when will the garrison fall? When will that soft, biting flesh of the big bird smash it's way back into my life.

But so far, I've quit cold turkey.

A little context: I'm driving around in Yellowstone with my dad and my girlfriend. My dad went on a three week cross country ski winter camping trip when he was 17 in Yellowstone. We are currently talking about whether or not it is important to carry bear spray.

Dad: "Did I ever tell you about that time I woke up a bear on my ski trip?"

Me: "What?! No, that's crazy, what happened?"

Dad: "Well, we were skiing through an open field when we hear a rumbling from about 100 yards behind us, and we turn back and there's a huge bear, and he looks at us and starts lumbering in our direction. At the time, I was with this girl who was not a very good skier, but we were pretty sure black bears can't climb trees, so we start hustling towards the woods. So I'm pulling her along and this bear is gaining on us but we get to the closest climbable tree and the bear is still 50 yards back. Like I said, she wasn't a very good skier, or really very coordinated in general, so I help boost her up into the tree and she's up there and she's pretty safe, but this took a minute and a lot of my energy. So now the bear is only about 15 feet away, and I've still got my skis on, and, you know, back then we didn't have fancy cross country skis, we had these big metal cable bindings and leather lace up boots, so I definitely don't have time to get them off. And I'm so exhausted from dragging this girl across the field and then shoving her up into the tree that I've got almost nothing left, and the first branch is about 8 feet off the ground. But this bear is coming at me and there's nothing I can do but jump for it, so I leap and pull myself up and over the branch using everything I've got right as the bear lunges for me and bites into my ski boot. So here I am, doubled over this branch with a bear's jaws on my foot, my skis on, and not one ounce of energy left, and he's really sinking his teeth in and he's really just pulling my leg just like I'm pulling yours!"