Welcome to Washed Weekly — a weekly newsletter that will feature original columns, quick reads, exclusive product drops, and an offering of some of the best content we’ve created throughout the week that was. Read it, enjoy it, and pass it on to anyone you think will enjoy it, too. You can also check out the Washed network of podcasts.
Vegas Odds For My Mid-Life Crisis
by
It pains me to say what I’m about to say: I’m 37 years old.
I know, I know, “You’re so young! You still have so much time left! You’re not even 40 yet!” But it doesn’t feel that way.
The average male life expectancy in the United States is just under 77 years old, which means next year will be my final year before I’ve reached the time of my life that I’ve always dreaded: mid-life.
And once you reach that age, you need to start thinking about how you want to divvy up the eggs in your basket when it comes to your mid-life crisis. Here’s where Vegas has the odds for every possibility.
Move to the middle of nowhere and begin oil painting (+400)
Am I actually willing to abandon ship and go full-Walden in order to further build my aesthetic by stealing valor from the oil painters who came before me? Absolutely I am.
Sure, I’ve tossed around moving back up to Northern Michigan ever since the invisible enemy entered our lives. But given my complete lack of skill in the painting department (and lack of motivation to move anywhere after moving this past Christmas), this will have to get punted to retirement.
Getting as jacked as possible (+2000)
In my life, there’s been a developing trend. I live a fairly leisurely lifestyle for years on end until I reach a breaking point.
From there, I decide to take the next 3-6 months and get in the best shape of my life. Then when I finally look great, I revert back to my leisurely lifestyle that looks more like that of a French vineyard spaniel than a man approaching his 40s.
Have I ever gotten shredded up? No. Do I see myself getting shredded up any time soon? Even bigger no.
Go full Huberman and only listen to health podcasts (+1800)
Despite being part-owner of a small-to-midsize media company that mainly focuses on podcasts, you’d think I have my head buried in the podcast sand week-in and week-out. But you’re wrong.
Currently, I only listen to one podcast: The Peter Crouch Podcast which covers English soccer from that giraffe’s perspective. While I respect science (and Huberman), I don’t think my affiliation with the podcast world will inspire me to go all-in on the bro-y science that’s filling our TikTok feeds.
If anything, I think it’s more likely I panic and start my own health podcast. Pleeeeeeease do not let me do that when I’m 47.
Testosterone Replacement Therapy (-500)
I’d stick a needle in my arm right now if someone had some. Next.
Buy a sportscar and/or motorcycle (+1000)
While it’s company policy to not talk about our finances publicly, I’ll say this: I’m pretty happy with my responsibility surrounding money lately, particularly saving. But no matter how much money I save in my lifetime, there’s a 0.0% chance I ever buy a motorcycle.
But if I see a beat-up Hank Moody-style Porsche for sale while I’m driving through our neighborhood, I may slide by and take a picture of the FOR SALE sign. Sure, my wife will swat that idea out of the gym, but a vintage project could always be in play.
Buy a boat (+2500)
No. This is what rich friends are for.
Start dressing way-too-young (+350)
Being that I’m 37 and already somewhat doing this, I’m very afraid of reaching levels that I’ve always made fun of from afar. While I don’t think I’ll ever fully go “How do you do, fellow kids?” with a backwards hat and my skateboard, I do think I’m ripe for some fashion misses over the next 12 years.
I mean, I bought a bunch of shit from Abercrombie last week. Am I already doing this?
Getting way too into collecting wine (+4000)
Wine collecting feels like the ultimate “filthy rich” activity. I mean, you’re not even saying you’re an expert in wine — you’re simply rich enough to collect so many bottles that it simply looks baller in your wine cellar that you barely go into.
Outside of a recent Barolo I had with one Brett Merriman, I haven’t been taking down too much red these days due to some sneaky nausea. Add in the fact that I rent my house (which doesn’t have a wine cellar), I fear this is further off than I’d like it to be.
Spending disgusting amounts per year on golf (-200)
Country club initiation fee? Custom club fittings? 36-holes-per-day group trips with the lads? Maybe even dipping my toe into the hickory game? Ohhhh, now we’re cooking.
As far as hobbies go in my life, golf is probably the one true mainstay. This may not even be a mid-life crisis, this may just be my existence until I pull my cart up to the pearly gates.
Start my own cattle company (+1000)
Considering this is what my dad did in the late 90s, I may just have to do it as a bit. Just maybe.
Stock Up, Stock Down: Diamond Edition
by Dave
“Bat on the ball, Chili Dog. Squish the bug, Chili Dog!”
Those words will forever be with me. Chili Dog, or Paul, was a teammate of mine in little league. His dad called him Chili Dog from a collapsible chair somewhere behind the chain link fence along the first base line. I’m 39 and still walk around the house yelling “Come on, Chili Dog” to myself. My wife hates it.
In retrospect, I was a little too aware of things that really weren’t relevant to baseball, being a good teammate, developing social skills, or learning life lessons. Probably ADHD. But some good did come of it. I’ve developed a knack for random observations that, at least to me, are funny. We’re a few “games” in, and I’m seeing a lot of volatility. Here’s my stock up, stock down tee-ball edition.
Stock Up: The Playground
It’s the light that keeps the moth coming back for more. It is both a terrible distraction for the team, as well as a savior. This particular unit features multiple slides, a pole, rope ladders, a massive swingset, and monkey bars that are not for the faint of heart. I bring tube bands and hit a quick warmup just to prep these tator cuffs for all of the overhead three-year-old lifting. They dig it. It might be the entire reason my son willingly puts on his uniform every Saturday morning. Fine by me.
Stock Down: The Lady Who Walks Her Dog By The Field
Our fields are located next to a subdivision in Austin. Big dog town. There’s a trail that runs around the field, and it’s a pretty good scene Saturday morning. Last week, I noticed a chonky husky working his way around the trail. A group of nearby kids noticed and immediately wanted to pet the beast. Not shocking. I found it to be quite reasonable. Unfortunately for these little turds, there would be no cute scene. The dog’s owner sternly let them know that the dog was off limits and was “not friendly.” That’s fine, but why walk your presumably unfriendly dog down a trail that features a sick playground and no less than 200 kids playing soccer and baseball? Kids love dogs. Kids love big dogs. This was always going to happen. SELL.
Stock Up: The Ice Cream Man
I hate the SOB, but I do respect him. He’s killing it. His timing is impeccable. He knows exactly which field to be by at the right time. I genuinely believe he has a recon unit out there tipping him off. Do I want to buy my kid 90 grams of sugar that will melt all over my backseat while also giving him diabetes? No. We have popsicles at home. The good ones made with real fruit. Take a hike pal, but let me know if I can get in on that friends and family round.
Stock Down: Older Siblings
Here’s the deal, pal: This isn’t about you. This is tee-ball. We’re lucky if contact is made on the first attempt. No one can catch. Throws are few and far between. That’s cool that you’re 7, probably very good at hitting meatballs lobbed to you by a coach, and rock an unnecessary amount of eye black. By that I mean any eye black. But stop interfering with practice. You were on this little diamond once, running to first base after jogging after the ball you just barely hit off a tee while 20 parents screamed at you. This isn’t the You Show, Cadyn. Let the wee little lads have their moment. I’m so out on y’all.
Golden Tee SZN
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We, Washed Media, have purchased a Golden Tee PGA TOUR Clubhouse Standard Edition that will reside in the Washed Media headquarters for the foreseeable future. With this machine, we will be streaming live on Twitch and YouTube on a weekly basis.
What is Golden Tee?
Golden Tee is the greatest bar arcade game to ever exist. It’s virtual golf, typically played intermittently between sips of draught beer in dimly lit dive bars. You play the game using a trackball. Roll it back for your backswing, then you spin that fucker forward to complete your swing. The harder the spin, the farther you hit the ball. Real Golden Tee-ers, like me, know the benefits of shot shaping and spin control around the greens.
I used to play a round every day when my former employer had one in the office. I got pretty good. Low round was -29. I even accepted a few challengers in the office and never won by less than about 15 strokes. I miss it so much. And now, my baby returns.
Some exciting news hit the wire not too long ago when Golden Tee collaborated with the PGA Tour. The newer versions, like the one that will be arriving to our office in the coming days, feature several actual PGA Tour courses to go along with the many fantasy courses the game is known for. We’ll play TPC Sawgrass, for example.
It’s a pricey arcade game to play in a bar, several dollars per game, but the cost of our machine was paid in full on the front end. And it wasn’t cheap.
Here she is. She’ll connect to our 65-inch bullpen TV.
You can find us on our Twitch page or our YouTube page. Thursday is most likely the day this is going to be happening, but we’ll of course keep everyone updated. When the machine arrives, I need to get some reps in, build my character up a bit so I can upgrade my sticks, then it’s time to stream, baby. And stream, we will.
I will accept challengers from different locales via the miracle of the internet, and I will play in tournaments.
Come through, join in on the chat, and have some fun with us.
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@Dorn What was the damage on the golden tee machine?
Thank you Dave for not doing “what I’m eating, drinking and watching this weekend”