Daily Archives: September 11, 2013

Man With No Memory Sees His Wife For The First Time…Uh, Again

I originally saw this on @gawker, and while Tommy and I aren’t usually into doing straight reposts from other blogs (you can get that from either of us on Twitter or by following our Facebook page), this was interesting enough post.

My first thought was that it was fake.

My second thought was that I ought to be ashamed of myself for thinking this is fake. Those two have been through a lot.

My final thought is that I don’t care if it’s fake or not. It’s two minutes of “that’s pretty cool” that I can cycle that I can put into my “Have you seen…” rotation of conversational fillers. Go forth and do likewise….oh yeah, his wife looks like this:

But seriously, how funny would this video be if it had gone the other way?

Why Do We Complain Constantly? Because Life Is Wonderful

Recently I’ve been finding a wealth of articles that are really good at bitching about things. Take this embittered little numberabout veggie trays, or absolutely anything written by the pirate/lumberjack lambaster of everyday things, Maddox. Hating things is funny and popular and something that we lemmings of the interwebs can huddle around.

A good idea is worth stealing, I’ve always said. Someone else was always saying it before me, so now I always say it as a way of complimenting them. I tried to apply that logic and fashion a bitch-tastic post of my own. It didn’t take.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty of things I came up with to complain about:

  • Why don’t they make catsup packets bigger? Has anyone ever needed one, single catsup packet?
  • If there’s one thing I hate, it’s those people that say/spell catsup instead of ketchup. We don’t need both spellings.
  • Don’t think I’m letting colonel/kernel off the hook either.
  • As men, why did we agree to start paying attention to fashion? Were we tired of wearing sweatpants to watch football games and not paying for tailoring?
  • Why in the name of Parnelli Jones doe any highway have a speed limit under 75 mph? We’re not driving Ford Pintos anymore.
  • Stand-up comics pretty much talk about food, sex, social oddities and their kids. Nothing is worse than hearing an act for the first time and the comic says, “So I have three kids…”
  • How can anyone complain about being single in 2013? The resources for meeting people and dating are practically endless. This isn’t Lost Springs, Wyoming.
  • Is there actually a girlfriend or wife born after 1980 that understands her significant other owns a phone for his own convenience? Unless she’s paying for his bill, it’s not attention on demand.

I mean, I could probably throw up three paragraphs on each of these things, and one day I probably will. But each thing I thought about that annoyed me really doesn’t. I utilize the dating resources. I manage expectations for relational communication. I fast-forward the Netflix when Kevin Hart starts yapping about his kids. I get around fast enough, don’t really care about fashion and have never been burned by syntactical redundancies. Sure someone should dispense some word-justice on the size of ketchup packets, but I probably don’t need the extra sugar anyway.

Life’s pretty wonderful, really. I can wake up every morning and thank the good Lord that my life is so NOT like Game of Thrones. I don’t, but I could. I guess my point, if I have one at all, is this: If anyone actually has the time to sit down and write a comically angry blog post about the banality and blandness of veggie trays—and you have the time to read that same article—then life is pretty cushy.

Speaking of, why hasn’t a more hazard-resistant cushion risen to prominence in public seating? Aren’t we tired of sitting on plastic folding seats at our NFL games? Then again, it’s the NFL. Their seating hasn’t been a problem since the 80s.

Puking sunshine,
Dusty “photovore” Riedesel