Look, I get it. I really do. Apple makes very attractive looking products that are generally reliable and easy to use. I see the appeal, but don’t be such a fanboy and jump on every hyped-up product thrown your way.

Just like the $1 songs already available on iTunes and other sources, if you pay $15 for a digital copy of a book, it should come with a complimentary punch in the face. Stop paying the same price for digital versions as you would for tangible products. You can own a real book, made with precious trees and ink, for that price. Production and distribution costs are almost nonexistent with digital distribution models. Digital should cost significantly less for the end consumer! If everyone stops over paying for digital products the prices will come down.

I’m about to share one of the greatest pieces of knowledge I’ve gained in my thirty years on this earth. Your dad’s shaving cream is far superior to that gel crap you’ve been using for years now. A single can costs a third of the price, lasts twice as long, and doesn’t ooze for three hours after you use it. Stop buying into the gimmicky space age shaving gel racket. I think I’ll try an old school razor next and get rid of this five bladed vibrating abomination.

Don’t get me wrong. It was fun for a while. We had some good times that I’ll never forget and plenty that I will, but I’m ready to start a new chapter of my life. Sure, some of the characters are the same, but I think Dallas and I have a real chance this time. I mean, we never got that close on our last go round, and I accept the blame for that. I was always on the outside of the relationship.  Living in the suburbs the entire time practically made it a distance relationship.

Oh, of course, you don’t want to hear about that though. I understand. Look, I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’ll have somebody new moved into this apartment in no time at all. He’ll be dining in all  five of your favorite restaurants. Going to all the bars and clubs you love so much. You’ll forget all about me, I’m sure.

Here’s the thing… your small town charm…. it was cute at first. But frankly, it got old. Listen, you’re still young. You’ve got plenty of growing up to do, and I know that eventually you will do just that. But I’m not interested in waiting around for that to happen. You’ll be better off with someone else anyway.

It’s not you. It’s me. I need to start thinking about my future and putting myself in a better position in the event that I want or need to start a career or something along those lines. With that in mind, I’m moving to Dallas where I can maintain my standard of living and still live in the middle of the action.

I hope we can still be friends. Keep in touch, you know I’m bad at that.

Best Wishes,
phrough

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Check out Tim Barber’s Kitty City!

Joe Wilson is your preexisting condition.

Now at the peak of the median, the front man waits for an opening in traffic from the other direction. The rear man begins his attempt to muscle the wheelchair up the ramp as traffic continues to backup in the impeded lane. After several seconds of futile effort, the rear man stands up and waves both arms over his head in frustration. He steps up the curb onto the median and walks fifteen feet away from his wheelchair, throwing a fit the entire way. After leaning on a traffic sign post for a few seconds, the man regains his composure and returns to his wheelchair. Having given himself away, he pushes the wheelchair up the ramp from behind, leaving the seat unoccupied.

The rear man stands alone in wait as cars go flying past, his fellow traveler already having successfully crossed the second half of the street. Traffic begins to slowly pass in the once wheelchair-obstructed lane of traffic, and a car slows to a stop as it approaches the man, now quite skillfully standing, from behind. The driver, with his window down and a sheepish grin on his face, exchanges a few quick words with the man before snapping a photo of him with a mobile phone camera.

As the driver speeds off and traffic on Riverside returns to normal, the man makes his way across the street. The two men continue their journey, one man in his wheelchair and the other pushing his own, now-empty chair.

When I stick my head in the fridge my bluetooth headphones lose their signal.