Fried-ay: Fake Instagram Photos, Golf Attire, and [nada]…

Guys, guys, GUYS!!! It’s Friday, which means it’s Fried-ay, which means it’s time for me to make up for last week’s absence by absolutely pummeling this WordPress text box into oblivion.

For those keeping score at home, Fried-ay is a running blog series for Couch Guy where I just rant on a variety of topics, none of which carry any intellectual value. It’s just a vat of smut you can stick a McDonald’s McFlurry straw into and snort directly into your cerebellum. So with that said, let’s get into it…

If I’ve learned anything from society, it’s that your real life means nothing. Appearances are everything and as long as you have an exotic, relatively consistent Instagram catalogue, you’re basically good to go.

But what about those of us that suck? What about those of us that spend our weekends in mustard-stained sweatpants eating lean cuisines, watching HGTV reruns, and planning our inevitable suicides? Well, since I’m a genius, I have a plan…

Long story short, I want to invest in a green room studio. It doesn’t have to be much, just enough to fit a few insecure, 6’3” bimbos with the coordination of a shitfaced baby deer.

From there, I’ll invite attention-seeking morons in to take pictures in whatever scenario/environment they want to be in. Want people to believe you’re on work study in Barcelona? No problem. Want people to believe you’re smashing White Russians at the Tree of Souls in Pandora (Avatar reference). Done.

I’ll be raking money in no time. If money were white, minature ping pong balls, I’d be the purple hungry hungry hippo.

Disclaimer: If you haven’t been able to tell yet, I started drinking a couple hours ago and now I’m just shooting from the hip. Probably won’t get to a third Fried-ay topic but I’m a fucking journalist so I rise to the occasion, unless I don’t. Disregard spelling/grammar…

It’s currently roughly 80 degrees out and I realized I have NOTHING to wear in the summer. All my shirts are either worn or have chipotle mayo stains on them. All I have is golf attire, and that’s where I run into barrels.

Everytime I hit a cookout in Summer, everyone ALWAYS asks me if I came from golfing and I’ll never understand.

I mean, isn’t golf wear just Summer wear? I mean, a polo and dress shorts are more versatile than people give them credit for. In my eyes, that’s just casual living. Just because I’m wearing a collar, doesn’t mean I just shot a 98 at the local dump.


– Joey Boats (@joey_boats)

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