364 More Days Until It's Time To Eat Buffalo Chicken Dip Again

I’m a very simple guy. I like my family. I like dogs. I like Mr. 305. And I like holiday traditions. As long as you have those 4 basic things down, you’re going to live a happy, healthy, fulfilled life. I truly believe that. One such holiday with traditions is Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving. Quite possibly my favorite holiday of them all. The day before you see all your ol’ pals at the bar. Then on Thanksgiving Day you wake up, you drink, you eat cookies, you watch football, you booze, you watch football, and you eat a big feast with you family. It’s joyous. But a tradition within the tradition is the food. Most notably for me- stuffing. I LOVE stuffing. I’m not saying I like it, I loveeeee it. One of my favorite foods, especially when it’s all mixed up with the turkey and gravy and on a biscuit.

However.

I eat stuffing no more than 3 or 4 times a year. I’ll pick at it drunkenly the night before Thanksgiving, and then I’ll house it down my throat like it’s the cure to male pattern baldness during the Thanksgiving meal, and then I’ll eat it for leftovers the next day or 2. And that’s it. I don’t see stuffing again for 361 or so more days. Do I crave it here or there? Sure. But I know it’s not worth it. I know when the November air is crisp is when the stuffing will be best. When the Redskins are on TV on a Thursday afternoon, and there is an IPA in my hand by noon, that’s when I eat stuffing. I eat one of my favorite foods once a year, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

So I say all that about stuffing because there is another holiday I love too- the Super Bowl. Since the Skins are never in it, I get to enjoy the day every year. Much like Thanksgiving, I start drinking early, I eat a shit ton of food, and I claim “gym starts tomorrow”. However, there is no stuffing on the Super Bowl. Instead, there is buffalo chicken dip.

Buff Chicken Dip is the super bowl food of the Super Bowl. It is the main event. The head bitch in charge. Chicks LOVE making a buffalo chicken dip for the Super Bowl. It’s engrained in their brains- drive shitty, start fights for no reason, and make buffalo chicken dip that random Sunday in February. They probably don’t even know why they’re doing it- it’s like robotic. They wake up the morning of the Super Bowl, make the dip, and have no idea why.

And it’s awesome. However, I won’t eat it any other day. I eat it literally once a year. It’s popping up on menus across the country as apps here and there, and I won’t stand for it. You eat turkey and stuffing at Thanksgiving, you eat cake on your birthday, and god dammit you eat buffalo chicken dip on the Super Bowl. It’s these little traditions that keep the world spinning on its axis. When start fucking with reality, you don’t know what can happen. Like Desmond from LOST taught us, you always need a constant. Those are my constants. One domino falls, and the world crumbles beneath our feet. So until 364 days from now, it’s been real, BCD. I’ll see ya soon.