Pictures Or It Didn't Happen

That used to be a thing. Someone would share something they did or witnessed, and then someone else would say, "Pictures or it didn't happen." Basically, calling the story-teller out as a liar. It was a dick move.

Since I don't have photos to illustrate any of this, here's a bunch of stuff that didn't happen over the past couple months. You know, if you're a dick.

• I ordered a small dish of ice cream for myself for the first time ever.¹
• My son learned how to play checkers, chess, Stratego, Sorry!, Catan Junior, and Battleship. He's 5, so he doesn't yet understand the strategy for the first three games, but if you're playing him in any of the others, watch out.²
• The imaginary superhero my son named after himself and told stories about for over a year was killed off by his new imaginary superhero.
• My brother-in-law wore a dress on stage. Again. (He's not an actor, a cross-dresser, or transgender. He's just a guy who is far too willing to follow scripts I write.)
• A squirrel drowned in our pool. It's a small inflatable pool, and the squirrel should have easily stood on its hind paws and clawed its way out. Since it didn't, this was obviously a hit by the Squirrel Mafia.
• My son and nephew gained new amazing abilities. They could see a road from the top of a mountain using their far-away vision, the backside of a building from the front using their see-everything vision, and who was behind a door using their x-ray vision. Denise had to keep telling them to stop using that last one in the restrooms.
• On my birthday, I took the day off from work for the first time in ten years. I didn't replace a toilet ring like last year's birthday, but I thought about it.
• I replaced a toilet ring.³
• Over the span of one month, we found 3-4 dozen dead bees in our sunroom (and a few in our kitchen). They each succumbed in a different spot, showed no signs of cat attack, and only twice did we see one alive. These were obviously hits by the Squirrel Mafia.⁴
• Oh yeah, and I took a bunch of pictures.

¹ In my defense, the shop's "small" is larger than most places' larges. Their "large" can feed a family of 4 for a week. (Yeah, I still regret not going with the large.)
² Especially in Battleship. He cheats.
³ Also its innards. Or, if you'd prefer, the toilet's reproductive organs. (Because, you know, those parts are how it reproduces the same flush every time.)
⁴ Don't even try to say it was the Bee Mafia. Everyone knows there's no such thing. Here in New England, the WASPs have the power.

The Best of the Best

In 1st grade, my best friend was a kid named Dave. Halfway through the year, his family moved to another town. I visited once, and never saw him again.

In 3rd grade, my best friend was a kid named Matt. Halfway through the year, his family moved to another town. I visited once, and never saw him again.

After that, I gave up on having a best friend.

Eventually I ventured into adulthood, where best friends weren't as big a deal, probably because of Facebook. I had close friends, good friends, high school & college friends, and volleyball friends, but I stuck to the decision I made when I was 8. No besties.¹

And then I met Denise. I've never called her my best friend. Honestly, I've never really considered her to be my best friend, because my brain had wiped the very concept from my perception decades earlier, but yeah, that's what she is.

There are plenty of people who love to tell the world "I married my best friend," but I've never cared much for that sentiment. It's too sappy for my taste. Maybe I'm still jaded from my youth, or maybe I simply don't like sap.²

Nevertheless, today being what it is, I'm going to go ahead and say it. Six years ago today, I married my—no, no, I can't do it. Too damned sappy. Need to boil it down.

Six years ago today, I married the love of my life.

And they lived happily ever after.

There, much better. Sap free, and with a fairy tale ending.

But wait: There's more! For the low, low price of reading the last two footnotes, you can also learn more about my former best friends Matt³ and Dave.<sup>4


1</sup> Also, no Super Friends. Marketing teams in the 70s sure made some odd name choices.
² Not till it's been boiled down into sweet, sweet syrup. Before that, it's just a bitter, sticky residue I can't wash off easily and makes me feel unclean.
³ I never saw Matt again, but 20 years later my dad saw him semi-regularly. Same Masonic lodge.
⁴ I never saw Dave again, but 20 years later Denise saw him semi-regularly. She dated his older brother.