Phone it in Friday
Down in Florida right now for Easter. I’m not, repeat NOT, complaining because it’s 90 degrees and sunny every day here, and this happens to be my favorite place on Earth.
However, there are a lot of little bugs that just bite the living shit out of you. I’ve scratched clean though the first layer of skin multiple times. Little bastards seem to target my feet too, so I end up having to give the “you wanna know how I got these scars” Joker speech to my girlfriend except it’s just about why my feet are a blotchy, inconsistent color.
I’m a mess, let’s dive in.
Big ideas
Scumbag City Tours. We show you the REAL city through the eyes of a degenerate who avoids culture like the plague. You could walk the freedom trail and learn how the slaves escaped bondage by hooking a left off Salem Street OR you could post up by the back entrance of Sully’s Tap where cops cherrypick drunk guys to put in the paddy wagon.
Keyboard shortcut for dads. In general, I don’t think dads particularly like texting. However, they also don’t want their family to think they’re ghosting them. So the compromise is usually a curt two-word text with a period.
My proposal is to invent an AI keyboard shortcut for dads like Google Docs has below comments. If their daughter shares good news like “David and I just got engaged! I’ve never known happiness like this,” the shortcut will put together a list of dad auto-reply options like, “Exciting” or “Happy for you.”
And if it’s a sad text like, “Great Aunt Phyllis just passed away. She was shot directly in her funny bone and bled out in agonizing pain for 9 hours,” the shortcut will suggest “Very sad” or “Sorry to hear.”
Nostalgic Snack Corp. I want to start a GoPuff-like business that exclusive deals in the cool snacks we had growing up that don’t really exist anymore. Imagine being able to order on-demand those plastic barrels of neon colored fruit juice? Or that Fruit2-O shit that may or may not have caused cancer but was definitely delicious. And don’t even get me started on the purple catchup Heinz used to sling. We used to be a country. A proper country.
What wakes me in the night
The word ‘pox’ confounds me. Invariably, it’s used to signify something horrible. A pox on your house is a violent curse. Smallpox means everyone dies. Then there’s chickenpox. Every other use of this word indicates death. But this one time, the word guys decided to use it to signify your kid looking like a shitty leopard and taking oatmeal baths. Weird.
Tour groups around Boston irrationally piss me off. I get they’re just families trying to learn about a historic city, but it irritates me to no end. Read any history book that covers the Revolutionary War and you’ll get everything you need to know. Go hang out in a TD Garden bathroom if you want a real taste of the city.
To my earlier point, what the hell is the Freedom Trail? I live 20 feet from part of it and genuinely have no idea. It’s not like the Underground Railroad because if the slaves made it this far North, they were already out of trouble. Was it like the OG championship parade route in Boston after the 13th amendment passed?
Pre-gf when I was on the dating apps, I would A/B test slightly different versions of the same pickup line to see which yielded better results. My conclusion was usually that I needed an option C.
Sad life snippets
If I go #1 in the bathroom, I almost never wash my hands. Only time I’ll do it is if someone is there to call me out. Like if I go into a public bathroom and a friend is with me, I’ll do it. If I go in solo, no chance. Yeah, there’s other people in there, but do you think I give a shit what a bunch of strangers in a Tolland, CT rest stop bathroom think of me? No chance.
I’ve officially reached the point where I have to pull the airplane seatball all the way to the right to fit around my waist. I’ll stop traveling before I make the flight attendant get that second connecting belt.
Multiple parts of my body can be used to itch other parts. And I don’t mean my nails. The balls of my feet are so dry and cracked that I use them to scratch the opposite foot. My facial stubble is so sharp that I use it to scratch my chest. I have a weird body.
My life revolves around sports so much that I’ve started just sleeping through days where there aren’t any of my teams to watch. If I don’t have actual plans with my friends and there’s no ball on, what’s the point?
Happy Easter to those who celebrate! I’m going to go run a weirdly competitive family shuffleboard tournament. LOT of shit talking going on between siblings in their late 50s.
