Had dinner with the fam celebrating my and B-Dub’s birthdays tonight (his 32nd is tomorrow—Happy B-Day, baby!), and the best thing ever happened: We were cleaning up, and B-Dubs wanted to take the leftover hamburger from the burgers we grilled because, you know, it’s 21 degrees out and we’re hardcore up here in the NWI. So he’s putting the hamburger in a Ziplock, and I looked at it and said “A bag of meat—wow, a big bag of meat, even,” not really thinking anything other than my brother had a big blob of hamburger in a Ziplock.

Not two seconds later, my nephew starts chanting in an almost rap-like fashion, “That’s a big bag o’ meat! Oh YEAH!” and then of course my niece starts chanting along.

Well, B-Dubs and I looked at each other and fell out at these two little kids rap-chanting about a bag of meat, so I of course encourage the nonsense by telling B-Dubs to throw a beat behind it, and he starts beat-boxing while the two of them are marching around the coffee table yelling at the top of their lungs, “That’s a big bag o’ meat! Oh YEAH!” and I’m at the table just dying. (There also may or may not have been some further encouragement by me in the form of bustin’ out some chair-dance moves.) My sister, meanwhile, is looking at us like we’re high on crack and is all, “Yeah, I don’t want to hear this all the way home.”

I swear I didn’t say a word to them. I can’t help that my influence, it is stealthy in its mightiness.