Double Dating is the Devil's Handiwork

I hated dating. The bad ice breakers, the long, awkward pauses, the brainless chit chat, washing the blood out of my clown suit at the end of the night (I'm just kidding... I hope). I hated it all. So I was relieved when I got married, because I was promised no more dating.

But they were wrong, you see, because you DO still date when you're married... you double date. You go out as a couple, with another couple, and it's double the bad ice breakers, double the long, awkward pauses, double the brainless chit chat... and double the misery. The awkward silence is especially agonizing.

Or if it's not awkward silence, sometimes you just don't mesh well. For example, I like a night of drinking as much as the next guy, but if the couple you're drinking with is slamming them back like water and bordering on alcohol poisoning, well, that's not very fun either.

Lucky for us the alcohol poisoning shut down her liver and killed her, which spared us the hassle of having to come up with an excuse as to why we couldn't hang out with them next weekend. We're still trying to come up with a good excuse to ditch the funeral, though...

But enough about acute alcohol poisoning. Double dating is hard. Unlike single dating, double dating is even trickier because everybody has to like everybody for it to work. Frankly, it's awkward if the girls get along, but the guys don't. Or vice versa.

Double dating requires compromise and agreement, because you have two brains trying to agree on whether they like who they just went out with. But really, that's not unlike single dating, amirite?

Though in the case of single dating, that second brain doesn't seem to listen very well to the first brain...

At least double dating's easy with Brandon. It's never awkward. Well, almost never.

Any of you attached/married folk ever been on a terrible double date?

Cheers and stay classy, friends,
Bryan

Music: Nigel & the Dropout
Beer: Breckenridge Agave Wheat

Frosty Beer Taste Testicle 2012

Before we start today's post, we just wanted to remind you that we have a totally kickass Kickstarter going to help fund the cover/marketing of our new book, The Dead Don't Play Slots. If you pledge at least $1, we'll tweet anything you want, and for at least $5, I'll draw you anything you want (within reason) in MSPaint. See here for details.

With that said... hi folks. Today, upon the past suggestion of multiple readers, we've decided to stage a taste test competition for that slur-inducing nectar of the gods: beer. The first contestant for this epic showdown will be that swilling champion and all-around smartass, Bryan.

The second drinker is One-Leg Craig, the hallway hobo. Not just because of his intimate familiarity with alcoholic beverages, but because, honestly, what else does he have to do? (Also, we don't have to pay him)

Brandon will be serving as game judge. So...let's go ringside!

(It was actually Left Hand Milk Stout)

(Our good friend Workingdan from Shameful Promotions.)

Is there a moral to the story? Probably not. But if there's anything to be learned here it's that, yes, to some people taste and flavor are important components to the things they put into their mouth. But no matter how delicious the complexities of composition, after the third beer or so, the shit all basically tastes the same.

Cheers,

Brandon and Bryan