Your little…
Recently I noticed a small thing about the Bear that has been driving me a bit crazy.
Whenever she refers to any thing about me or the things I like, she always adds this one adjective.
Recently I noticed a small thing about the Bear that has been driving me a bit crazy.
Whenever she refers to any thing about me or the things I like, she always adds this one adjective.
It only took 6 years to beat the Nazis. The Odyessey was done in 10. Wimps. It took me 50 years to finally win “the grass wars.”
I’ve been in “husband” boot camp for 32 years. There’s no graduation in sight.
Just when I was going to release my perfect whine to earn some free points with the Bear (one of the secrets to a long marriage is the art of sublte manipulation) that got fucked up too.
My clueless riders, didn’t ask and didn’t know those things. They just assumed that everyone thinks it’s OK to endanger and maybe kill other people who don’t look like or sound like you.
The fucking Savages started this trend of mini-dogs. The Boy followed and several months ago picked up a 13-pound rat that exhibits dog-like behavior.
Hi, my name is Kieran, and I am a pathetic, hopeless alcoholic — at least according to the Bear I am.
I was a little kid during the Civil Rights Movement, and somehow I always assumed everyone was getting less racist — not more.
One of the worst parts of being a fat cyclist is the clothes.
Last year, the Bear set up a big family dinner for Father’s Day. This year she hosted a giant fucking party for 60-100 people.
I created The Bear moniker last year just for this Bullshit blog, but for years my wife has had a much crueler nickname: T-Rex.
Goddamnit, Indian Wells changed the margarita glasses at the fucking tennis tournament this year.
The Bear has always hated my Lying Nazi Bullshit Diesel. Not because it’s a liar. Not because it’s killing the planet
Sunday it was somewhere between a hundred and a billion degrees, so I got up at dawn and went cycling before the sun melted the blacktop. About 3 hours later, I get home breathing hard, coated in sweaty salt and smelling like a dead muskox.
When it comes to sex and girls, the Boy and I have a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy. The Bear does not share this policy. She sticks her nose into every part of his “relationships” like they are unguarded honeycombs. She started when he was in the 2nd […]
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.
All kinds of ideas and thoughts
A Funny Blog
It's My Blog and I Can Cry If I Want To.....
"We make bitter better."
Incoherent ranting & cries from the edge of sanity, mostly.
"This blog is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." - F.G.
If you aren't living on the edge, you're taking up too much space
Where smartasses chase unicorns
News and views from nowhere in particular, somewhere in Texas
A place for grumpy old men- ladies and the young are welcome if they feel they are up to it.
My life as a cautionary tale.
Informative, invigorating, sometimes even entertaining ... Your comments are encouraged here!
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