Problems, I Have a Few

Before The Dude pressed pause on Facebook, we were having a competition to see which of us could achieve the lowest number of friends.  (I am talking about Facebook friends, as there is no competition in real life; the Dude has many more friends than I do.  So I guess I'm "winning" that "game".)  We took this challenge seriously and every time one of us dropped the ax, the other had to make some tough decisions.  I believe we were tied at 90 friends when he went on hiatus, though I've culled the heard a bit more in anticipation of the challenge picking up as soon as he reactivates his account. 

Yesterday I started thinking about our longstanding sibling promise to serve as funeral bouncer for each other.  The funeral bouncer keeps unwanted attendees from entering the venue, by force if necessary.  Do either of us imagine that war criminals would attempt to pay their respects upon our deaths?  No, but there were a few high school girls who were really bitchy to us.  (While we were in high school.  Though I would probably be savaged by today's high school girls too.)  This funeral agreement is not just an inside joke that we shared in our teen years.  We still discuss it from time to time.  The Dude gets genuinely ticked when I suggest I may be too distraught over his death to evict mourners. 

Contemplating these strange misanthropic activities has caused me to wonder how we became two weirdo peas in an antisocial pod.  Why is it that each of us is suspicious of people who collect Facebook friends like Sesame Street's Bert collects bottle caps?  Why are we wary of people who enthusiastically attend their high school reunions?  And how do I explain my answers to those questions when they boil down to, "Because OBVIOUSLY."