Among the Pendejos we have a split decision on whether Shad should be nominated for a bronze medal in Dick Move of the Year 2021.
I've been a journalist, teacher, instructional designer, project manager, product manager, business guy... Veteran of the married life for 30-something years. Sort of helped raise one boy to be decent adult. Here to spread my bullshit and read what others have to say.
Like most dangerous things, it started with an innocent and simple suggestion.
The echos of 7th grade math have been reverberating through my house for the past 2 months.
“Ohh Jesus, I can’t see it. Can you?” Sugar Mama asked as she held her phone as far away from her scrunched up face as possible.
Remember when “Up talking” was just for teenage girls and gay men? Those were the fucking days.
For the four people who found this blog through Facebook, you may have noticed a change. No longer is my Facebook page called Kieran’s Bullshit.
Facebook called bullshit on Kieran’s Bullshit.
Since I quit my job in Tucson, I’ve had my fill of fiction.
“I bought this bike, so I could ride it. I don’t want to learn how to fix it.”
Just try to hold your breath when cycling past the dairy farm — I fucking dare you. It can’t be done.
Here’s a message I thought I could stand up and salute… or at least a part of me could.
After a dozen years of living part time in the Dirty T, right around Christmas, I quit my job — so I’m selling my condo and abandoning the third-world racquet club.
Protestors, rioters, terrorists… seem to be the media’s choice for naming the fools who stormed the Capitol on Jan. 6 and might be planning more attacks this week.
Cops and prosecutors arrest and charge them as trespassers and assaulters and say they participated in “disorderly conduct.”
But all that’s bullshit.
Turns out the woman who I have referred to as “The Bear” on the internet for the past three years is not an animal at all.
She’s my Sugar Mama… showering me with all of that sweet, sweet teacher money.
It was the first or second day of school the first year I was teaching 8th grade when “Bradley” tried to blow the ceiling off the classroom with what could have been the world’s loudest and longest fart.
Ducks should run like chickens. But not the fucking gaggle on the Western Canal bike path south of Baseline Road in Mesa, Az.