Being a fat biker (pedaling not Harley) with no pigment leaves me little choice. I have to ride at night or risk Satan’s kisses (sunburn all over).
I’m a night person anyway. I put on two motorcycle power headlights, a flashing red tail light and head out once the sun turned off.
No one wants to pay taxes, not businesses, not people… but I say we start with those buildings with a steeple.
That’s right, tax the god damn churches.
I only have one “sex” story that I used to share in public.
I was 16 years old and working at the ghetto grocery store that was a few blocks from my parents’ house. One winter night around 9 p.m. I was rounding up the last of the shopping carts in the parking lot.
This tiny little rusted out piece-of-shit sedan was a rockin’.
I have never trusted birds — useless fucking things that just mock us with their ability to swoop down on our heads. But years ago something happened that changed my mind.
It started with Body Shaming by Kate, then her husband Andy and her friend What’s Her Name shamed my face. What could be fucking be left to make fun of?
I have a lot of political opinions, but I don’t do much about them. I vote. But I don’t protest, I don’t donate to political causes very often, I don’t volunteer.
I’m suspicious of all groups. I’m not “a joiner”, and I really kinda hate people. But I finally found a political movement I can get behind: Free the Nipple.
We all have our little addictions. Some good, some not so good. For the past decade, I’ve been hooked on the crack.
Bernie, AOC and some of the new flaming liberals have a long list of shit they want to change. I’m with them on most of it, but not one — free college.
Fuck Free College. We don’t want a repeat of senior year in high school with bored kids hanging out in the classroom to avoid the working week.
The surgeon looked at me with the kind of disgust one saves for making sure the cockroach is dead before you throw it in the trash.
“What do you mean it still hurts?” he said. “You had a leaf tear and I smoothed it all out.”
Most of us spend way too much time worrying about it, But at it’s root, money is bullshit.
One of the fucked-up things about playing recreational tennis is away matches.
You have to drive to some other part of town and play on strange courts. And worse, we can’t just walk to the Third World bar to enjoy some popcorn and beer with the resident mice — we are forced to pick a different bar.
Waiting for my slot to get my knee surgery, the surgeon was killing time and hung out at my bedside for a while.
Most cyclists are your basic MAMIL’s (middle-aged men in lycra) — you know harmless, masochistic skinny fucks who enjoy burning muscle pain and oxygen deprivation.
But occasionally out of a pack of MAMIL’s, one douchebag will pop up like burnt toast. There’s a few different types of douches, but the worst is the wheel-sucker.
Saturday morning there were 3 cookies left — the Savage chocolate chip cookies with just the right amount of crack.
“Those are for you and your brother,” the Bear said. “You figure out how to share them.”
If another adult “disciplines” your kid, the right response is embarassment — you are raising a little fucker who did something wrong. Just apologize and then shut your mouth.