Fried-ay: FaceApp, Smoothie Shops, 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 hit up the food truck that wheels its way into my work in the morning, slap a reprehensible amount of scrambled eggs into a styrophoam cup, enhale it, and die of food poisoning…

As always, if you aren’t familiar with Fried-ay, it’s not a problem. Why? Because I make sure to explain, every week, that Fried-ay is an enigma. It’s a moment of bliss in an otherwise tumultuous world. It’s a symbol of what this Earth can be, as well as what it can’t. It’s where I talk about burritos and domestic terrorism.

First and foremost, I’d like to talk about this whole FaceApp situation. What started as a harmless way to accrue Instagram likes has turned political because God forbid anything can just be fun anymore.

Turns out, FaceApp is a Russian company so Democrats and Republicans are now using it as a soapbox to grandstand because politicians are shameless dickhats. I guess they think that, since Russia’s behind it, the intent of the app is to eventually control the world.

Now, I’m not here to say that’s true or not (I already blogged this for another site I’m pretty sure CEO Nick hates, and I don’t blame him) but it did expose me to how much shit I throw my signature on a day that I don’t read.

Evidently, this company could have access to all my photos if they wanted, but they’re just saying they won’t capitalize on that. And you know what? I signed up for that willingly.

On one hand, I think people should be more conscious of what they’re signing away when they confirm a privacy agreement but let’s be serious, no one’s reading the privacy agreement. I didn’t read any books in college and still managed to squeak out a +3 GPA; I’m not reading your fucking privacy agreement. I gave Draftkings all my bank information and they could’ve punched in a clause that allows them to borrow money whenever they want but I couldn’t give two fucks, I just want to bet on golf.

I went to this place called PureNutrition after the gym yesterday. It was one of those places I’ve driven by roughly 5,000 times in my life but never walked into and, yesterday, I finally folded.

Never again, dude…

First of all, I thought it was this GNC type place but no. It was one of those hipster smoothie/kale type places where people go to hang out and boast about how socially progressively they are.

Instead of immediately leaving (which was the plan), I was ushered in to the tune of 4-5 staff members waving me in and being overly friendly. I hate that. You can’t force the collective attention on a customer who clearly doesn’t know what they’re in for in an attempt to peer pressure them into proceeding.

Since I’m insecure, I died inside and walked up to the counter. Before I go any further, all I wanted was a protein shake; the only problem was that there were no prices anywhere. There were roughly 7,000 protein flavors/alternatives but ZERO information on the hit my wallet would take.

Like an asshole, I just stared there until some overly enthusiastic chick offered to explain “the process” of what they do. Like what? You make a shake, I give you money for the shake, and then you give me the shake. That should be the process, right?

But no, it’s not that simple. Not only do you need to bulldoze through that entire process, but they also make you fill out a pamphlet regarding your “goals.” My goal is to buy a shake and get the fuck out of here. I didn’t sign the pamphlet…

As most know, Tiger’s back; however, things are getting a little questionable at the British Open. As I’m writing this, our guy is sitting at +6, which curiously is only 16 off the leader, Shane Lowry. In other words, Tiger’s in striking distance but if he doesn’t shut the door, I took the Irishman in Draftkings…

-Joe Romano (@joey_boats)

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