Your Milkshake Sucks
It was 9:30 p.m. on a Tuesday and a bunch of us had just finished playing tennis in Gilbert — a perfect time for a drink.
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.
It was 9:30 p.m. on a Tuesday and a bunch of us had just finished playing tennis in Gilbert — a perfect time for a drink.
Just like Trump running to Putin, this season one of the fucked up players on my tennis team went running to a bunch of “wanna be” winners. I was told “Traitor McGee” (not his real name, but close enough) wrote “a really nice note” on his way out […]
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, when the beggars begin to frolic in the streets of Tucson.
One day a driver in Tucson is going to kill me with kindness — under the wheels of her white sedan with a big fucking Be Kind sticker on the back.
We’ve reach god’s busy season, and he’s gonna be grumpy again this year. You know jesus is just about impossible to shop for, and after more than 2000 birthdays
About 30 Savages invaded the Bear’s home on Thursday — yes it was Thanksgiving. We had shish-kaboobs outside in 90-degree heat at 1 p.m
When I first started cycling, I had no idea it was a “social” activity. But sometimes I can’t get these fuckers to shut up.
I’m thinking of buying a white van and a long rope, so I can get you dumb shits to follow the eternal fucking rules of rec tennis.
Ironing is fucking stupid and dangerous, and we should all stop it.
I can usually have a good night if I can just get my drugs right. It’s not as easy as it sounds.
I was denied summer camp as a child. I skipped the college dorm life. For a few years, I filled the camp/dorm fake nostalgia with Newks tennis camp.
There are many weekend days at home in Gilbert when I miss our little solar-powered House Elf. I’m not talking about the Roomba
If I hit some bullshit tennis shot off the net and it falls in for a winner, don’t hold your breath waiting for that pussy little hand wave
Don’t look. Tell me what color your dishwasher is.
After several years of a happy relationship with my iPhone 6, one day it was just over. I can hardly stand to look it in the eye.
By Pam R.
Pieces of life and the love of family mixed with the passion to ride
Los Angeles Freelance Writer • Comedian • Photographer •
Comedy essays and articles
Like Mother Teresa, only better.
Riding the South Coast of Massachusetts and Rhode Island
cycling less than i plan
Author of suspense novels Sketch, Justice For Belle, Search For Maylee, Aggravated Momentum, and a medley of short stories.
"Nothing that happens to a writer -- however happy, however tragic -- is ever wasted." ~ P.D. James
notes of the desperate man
The Dude Abides. I'm A Dude AbiKes. I wonder as I wander around Austin on a bicycle.
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Incoherent ranting & cries from the edge of sanity, mostly.
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Where smartasses chase unicorns
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My life as a cautionary tale.
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