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. The Bear was getting up to go to the Orange … Continue reading Happy Fucking Father's Day
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 grade. "What's her name? What kind of … Continue reading Ginger Stripper