Wait… Isn’t it still Thursday? YES. Don’t you usually do your stupid “Throwback Thursday” on those days? BINGO. But, the name of that song is “Friday Night” OBSERVANT. Wouldn’t that make more sense on a Friday? YES…but it’s also 5 or more years old, which is definitely in Throwback territory AND the beat’s fresh! Then, what are you gonna use for tomorrow… Friday? I DON’T GET PAID FOR THIS, LOG IN FRIDAY TO SEE.. AND EVERYDAY, TILL I EVENTUALLY DO, and this conversation becomes a Throwback! Enjoy your Friday…tomorrow… whatever BYE. *hits the robot to this funky Just Blaze beat*
Maybe it was out of necessity, convenience, or just plain lack of desire to fit in with your stupid social norms – I grew up in a time where there were some women (albeit middle aged or older) who found it perfectly acceptable for their bras to double as wallets.
-The necessity was security. There’s places where pick-pocketing and purse/wallet snatching is a reasonable risk. Somebody’s ingenious Aunt figured out that low-lives may steal ya money in broad daylight, but they won’t reach in your bra for it… hopefully.
-The convenience was the obvious lack of an extra accessory in a leather bound wallet for ya cash (or cards depending on how serious you take your re-inforced brallet)
-As for the social norms, some of our grandmas and aunties were just weirdos and would send us to the store with their clammy/crumpled up cash that we wouldn’t dare refuse because, sometimes the road to that snack you want goes past a boob bridge you must traverse, ya know? NO? Nobody else…. yeaaa… me neither.
In this digital day and age the challenges are similar. Except now, the pocket picker doesn’t have to see or touch you. In fact, he can be halfway around the world on his laptop sifting through lines of code tryna steal my aunties money, MY ice cream money…EVEN YOUR MONEY. He’s done it at Supermarkets. He’s done it at Hotel Chains. He’s done it in Gotham City. The heartless bastard has even done it at our sandwich and ice-cream shops. DEVIANT!
But that convenience though, amirite? If you’ve bought anything online you know the necessary hassle of entering your card information on a form only to have to do it again again when the secure page crashes after. Or, if you’re in line at your local grocery store with a cart full of
candy kale potatoes, do you really wanna sift through ya bag for your wallet, then ya wallet, then count out the cash, then realize it’s not enough so you go for the debit card, nope not that one the other one, oh wait you meant your credit card and look like an idiot in front of that cute cashier who just got called to aisle 5 while you took too long? Now your wallet shenanigans have cost you precious face time with your soul mate. Now you won’t have the kids that will raise the future President of Planet Earth that could’ve been your grand son/daughter. ALL BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T HAVE A DIGITAL WALLET. Checkout how 5 major players want you to fix that problem with them:
Samsung Pay (Announced Today)
YOU GUYS I FOUND IT! I finally found it! You know, it! The magical object that will set me free, returning me home, away from this endless dream of fruits, vegetables, and starches – oh my! It’s right here, finally, after eluding me for, what, 87 days (well more if we include weekends, holidays, and those inevitable days where I forget I’m supposed to blog). A truly long journey to be sure. But I’ve done it! I’ve located my magical vessel, my enchanted crux, my spiritual key. It’s not shoes, sure. But it is a pear! A beautiful, plump ruby pear! Right there waiting, waiting to take me home!
It was a long yellow road, built by corn kernel brick after corn kernel brick. But I’ve made it, past the deep dark forest of celery and cilantro, sneaking by the flying edamames, defeating the Wicked Kiwano of the West, peeling back to curtain to reveal the lime controlling it all. Those were the fiercest of the trials and tribulations. But there was good in this journey, too wasn’t there? New friends made along the way. A strawberry without a brain! A tomatillo lacking heart! A cowardly lemon unable to muster the courage (the courage to stop telling jokes)! And who could forget my trusty pet, Potato? They were all there, and it was so very grand! But it had to end, didn’t it? All journeys do!
And this one ends in joy, because I’ve finally found that piece of inspiration that will send these dreamed walls, those four edges of the screen, crumbling down! Because that’s all that was missing all along, wasn’t it? Inspiration. The inspiration to be free, to break away from the bane of normalcy, to find something worth imagining about, the unimaginable in the tangible. That’s what we’ve done! You, me, all the readers, all the fruits, all the vegetables, all the potatoes around the world! We’ve done it. And all I have to do is buy this ruby red pear, take a bite, and this all comes to a sudden, but wonderful and joyous end. There’s no food like home.
Annnnd… I’ve forgot my wallet. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. I’m too close! Please, man, just let me have for free! Please. PLEASE. Oh come on, the capitalist system isn’t worth it, dude. I don’t care about your family you have to feed. Feed them pears! SHIT. FINE. WHATEVER MAN, SCREW YOU. I’M JUST GOING TO JUST TAKE A GODDAMNED PICTURE AND KEEP ON WRITING ABOUT PISSANT PIECES OF PRODUCE AGAIN THEN. FUCKIN’ A, MAN. FUCKIN’ A.
I made a huge mess in the kitchen but I can’t clean it up.
But first, I’m sorry, Diary. I’ve neglected you. Again. Our relationship has stalled out these past few months, hasn’t it? But as you’ll see, it’s not you, it’s me. I know, I know, that’s the type of clichéd bullshit we whisper into the ears of tearful lovers, but Diary, you and I aren’t lovers. You’re a physical object. Well, an… electronic cloud? At the very least, you’re a webpage, which is not a thing you can love in the human relationship sense, but it is a thing you can love in the “hey, I love this thing” sense. So I love you, Diary, you great thing, you. And I’m back! To tell you about how the roommate and I keep forgetting to buy fucking paper towels.
We’re going on several MONTHS since a paper towel has stepped a quilted, papery foot in our house. Yes, months. Yes, that’s absurd. No, it’s not on purpose. No, it’s not an environmentalism thing. No, I’m not mad about. Yes, it has gotten gross. The kitchen that is. We’re in trouble. Like, real bio-hazard trouble. I think the EPA is about to send in their elite corps of Bio-Hazard Bros to sterilize the joint, wrapped in layer after layer of HAZMAT suit, armed to the teeth with Super Soakers filled with bleach and Lysol grenades. And honestly? I wouldn’t blame them. I’d blame Continue reading Ben’s Diary: I Made A Huge Mess In The Kitchen But I Can’t Clean It Up