One of the worst parts of being a fat cyclist is the clothes.
Cycling is supposed to be some crunchy-granola-zen shit — but thanks to modern engineering — it’s not…
My 90-year-old father and I flew 3000 miles to see them. The Frick and the Met, museums that is. Art gold. Let me spill a little tea.*
When did Americans get so goddamn gullible? We fall for propaganda like a middle-age man picking internet brides from Asia.
I was taking my paper bag (I know I hate this fucking planet) and leaving Trader Joe’s, when I saw it.
Holy fuck. A guy was drinking a beer in the checkout line. He had a half-finished six pack at the register. His wife or girlfriend was loading the groceries. No one said shit.
Facebook, Apple and Google — guess what, we hate you like you were the phone company or the post office in 1975.
The Boy made one little change on Facebook, and it sent the Savages into a tizzy.
There’s no fucking free lunch in this world, and that applies to beer too, goddamnit.
For nearly two decades, I grieved the loss of my original Roomba. The little robot vacuum that couldn’t.
Don’t care what the Chinese say, I’m calling 2021 the Year of the Rat.
2020 was obviously the Year of the Dog. The pandemic put us all at home. Heaven for most dogs. Free treats and walks all day.
Opened the fridge door — damn that smelled like shit. I knew exactly what to blame. That 18-inch long bag of celery.
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.”
Remember when I said I would walk on a pickleball court when I was in hospice? Well, apparently I’m dying.
Just when I was getting used to the new shittyness of the WordPress block editor – they fucked up the scheduler.
The Bear and I went to get our passports renewed. His nametag said Bob. Bob was efficient, thorough and a mother fucking racist.