Beef! It's how we tell people about our baby. Because it's better to eat the beef than eat the baby. Unless you're in Russia.

What ever happened to a simple phone call to announce big news?

"You awake?"

"Its 3 in the afternoon. I just woke up. What's going on?"

"You're going to be a grandpa"


"Dad? You there?"

"Who is this?"

"Mom? Its your number-one son."

"What did you tell your father? He's on the floor grasping his chest!"

"I told him he's going to be a grandpa."

"Oh yeah!? Well good for you! You just killed your father. Now hang up so I can call the 911. Love you."

Now when you finally knock up somebody, you have to make a big production about it, like fill up a big box full of pink toilet paper and make people open the box. Others spend money they should be saving for college on stupid one-off T-shirts.

Well, KLTV is reporting that John Lezama, a meat cutter for Texas Roadhouse in Tyler, spelled out the gender of his soon-to-arrive bundle of joy in steaks.

I guess it's better that showing a baby flying out of the house in the bathwater. Barely.

Now you can walk in and scream, "It's a girl on the grill!"

That would be kind of fun. Like saying "Hi" to Jack at the airport.

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