Opened the fridge door — damn that smelled like shit. I knew exactly what to blame. That 18-inch long bag of celery.
I was walking Carol Baskins, when I bumped into my wife’s boss (the principal). “She really can’t wait to get Carol in her classroom,” the boss said. “She talks about it all the time.”
In the flat land, a bike overpass is king. Gilbert Az just crowned it’s new “bridge” for bikes and people over the railroad tracks just west of “downtown.”
In the battle of the Bullshit blog nicknames, I was confident I had picked a winner. Surprise, I fucked that up.
My “friends” in Tucson are constantly shitting on Phoenix, because it’s so hot. (It’s about 2- 5 degrees warmer). But I can tell you one thing we don’t have — critters.
“You know for someone who moves like you, pickleball is a good option,” they say. Fuck them.
Don’t call it fucking “hair styling” or going to a “stylist” — pushing 60, I’m back to sporting the same haircut I had when I was 6.
Who knew that murdering bitch Carol Fucking Baskins could be a comfort to all mankind?
The Sugar Mama knew, that’s who.
I want to know the exact date and time, “expertise” was put in a corner. I don’t know who did it or when they did it, but it has been done.
I’ve spent way too much time on the Olympic mix channel trying to pick one of the five NBC screens to watch — only to wonder “what the fuck is this doing in the Olympics” and turn the whole damn thing off.
Gowing up as the boy named Kieran was one thing. But this whole Karen Meme is fucked up. Keep my name out of these mouths.
Richard Branson couldn’t stop smiling and praising himself for “blasting off” as high as the Soviet Union sent a dog in the 1950’s. Jeff Bezos followed it up by tying the records set by “Ham” the chimp the US sent up in 1961.
It’s fucking hot. 108 in Portland, 115 in Medford, Oregon. Those are typical for us here, where central air meets central Arizona. But now you can’t escape the heat even if you fly 1000-miles north.
For years comedians like George Carlin and Bill Burr have been calling for a plague. Something to wipe out the stupid and intolerable.
Remember when I said I would walk on a pickleball court when I was in hospice? Well, apparently I’m dying.