This comic brought to you by all those years I read Megatokyo.
TheWife is the go-to person for family gathering food preparation. She makes amazing food, but always worries it isn’t great.
Apparently my hair is thinning in the back, and my new haircut makes it more obvious.
It is very nice hair, I have to say.
Monday’s comic is a perfect example of this ongoing difficulty.
There is nothing better than the idea of bottomless root beer floats.
Well, maybe bottomless Sonic slushes, but good luck finding a Sonic in Northern Virginia.
I have no fingernails, yet the Wife always insists on asking me to scratch her back. It never works out as well as she’d like.
Look, I’m generally a pretty accepting person. I don’t rightly care about the brand of most things, be they breakfast cereals or chips or clothes or what-have-you. But there is a discernible difference between Canada Dry and all other, inferior ginger ales. I will fight you on this.
I will never not find CSI: Miami jokes funny. Anytime you can end something with a one-liner segueing into Roger Daltry screaming, “Yeeeeeeeeaaaaaaahhhhhhh!” in that throat-rending way, it’s comedy gold as far as I’m concerned.
The basic text of today’s comic was sent to my sister-in-law via text message along with the following picture:
I feel my work here is done.