When I first saw it, I was offended like an 18-year-old woman being called a “freshman” at an Ivy League School.
We are all born with some anti-social “behaviors” like monkeys flinging shit in a zoo; until our families, “friends” and classmates beat the rules of society into our thick skulls.
Americans in 2019 are getting a steady stream of how much “better” it is in other countries. Thanks O’Trumpa.
But I got way to make them pay…
If you are ever feeling fat and old, go to Deadwood, South Dakota in the summer. Look around the casino, walk the streets. In 5 minutes, you will feel a lot fucking better.
The CVS drugstore near my office is clean, efficient, and can fill every imagniable personal need.
It’s fucking amazing. I love it.
Unfortunately, it’s more of a magnet for crime than a two-dollar whore house.
I love Labor Day.
The Fourth of July is bullshit; Christmas perpetuates the Greatest Lie Ever Told; but Labor Day is simple and honest: Let’s take a day off to celebrate that we get to take days off.
My father is 88 years old. His biggest problem in the world is keeping his hometown girlfriend from meeting his traveling girlfriend.
I hate the idea of gun control. It’s the god damn assholes pulling the trigger we have to control.
We often forget the impact we have on others. Here’s a little reminder that came from The Boy (now age 29) through Facebook Messenger of what a shitty dad I am.
If you see me being led away in handcuffs anytime soon, it was just life teaching me another little lesson about me. Here’s my side of the story.
I’d like to extend a heart-felt and giant “fuck you” to the entire health care system for treating us all like children.
Every Monday morning, I’m reminded why I hate Adolf Hitler. The “Never Forget” message is embedded right under my nose.
Since our first summer that we could understand English, we have all been told that the Fourth of July is America’s birthday. Well like Dec. 25 for Jesus, it’s a fucking arbitrary date picked out of their ass by politicians with a marketing agenda.
I’ve got no evidence to prove it, but I’m convinced I almost crushed a woman just to support the patriarchy.
It had been a long day and a half in a crowded room listening to stories about work while not getting any work done. I couldn’t wait to head over to Hooters.
It had been built in our imaginations like a combination of Camelot and Plato’s Retreat. It was the first Hooters in the state — newly opened in downtown Phoenix.