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Fried-ay: English Muffins, Chernobyl, and Tiger’s Back…

Guys, guys, GUYS!!! It’s officially Friday, which means it’s Fried-ay, which means it’s time for me to slam the right analog stick and truck this blog six yards off the line of scrimmage.

As always, I explain what Fried-ay is before I begin. So essentially, Fried-ay is a vacant wasteland of scattered thoughts. It’s an oasis of bliss where dwarfs rub elbows with giants and the grassy pstures serve as the perfect backdrop for aimless frivolity. Basically, it’s what I call “machine gun blogging.” Let’s get into it…

A coworker of mine brought in two full sleeves of english muffins the other day and acted like he just donated a wing to a children’s hospital. Obviously I appreciate the gesture, but it got me thinking: I don’t trust the english muffin industry for a second.

Everytime I walk into the supermarket, the english muffin deals are OFF THE CHAIN. It’s always a “buy one get seven free” deal. How the fuck is that profitable for Thomas Breads? Just a perpetual “everything must go” situation, which leads me to believe that the english muffin industry has to be a front for something. Like, I wouldn’t be surprised if, in the near future, Pepperidge Farm gets dusted for money laundering in connection with some convoluted human trafficking scheme. Those cinnamon raisin swirls aren’t fooling anyone…

I’m sick today and my throat feels like Vietnam. In response, some guy at work offered me one of those Vitamin C drink powder packs and I refused because, strictly speaking, I don’t believe in remedies for certain things.

Whenever I’m hungover or sick, people always offer me solutions. They’ll say stuff like “drink a lot of fluids” or “eat a greasy breakfast” or something like that but I’ll be honest with you: NONE of it works. Time, without a shadow of a doubt, is the ONLY factor when it comes to overcoming a hangover or common cold. I could beerfunnel Vitamin C for the next two hours and tomorrow, I’ll still be hacking it up like a firefighter who just got off shift at Chernobyl.

Speaking of Chernobyl, I’m currently two episodes in and DAMN, is it fucking fantastic. WAY better than that dragon and incest porn show everyone used to argue about.

The only issue is that the show obviously takes place in Russia and all the British actors are speaking in their native accents. Whenever I indicate that bothers me, everyone says “C’mon Joe, that’s not a big deal.” Like what? Not a big deal? That’s like me making a Madea movie with all White people—you can get past it I guess, but at the same time, don’t tell me it’s an easy aspect to bypass.

As is tradition, Tiger’s back. The US Open kicked off from Pebble Beach yesterday and Tiger absolutely GRINDED to remain at -1 heading into Friday. Zero action on the back nine for him yesterday but he’s within striking distance of Justin Rose, who leads the field at -6. Don’t sleep on moving day…

-Joey Boats (@joey_boats)

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