Hi, my name is Kieran, and I am a pathetic, hopeless alcoholic — at least according to the wife I am.
I was about 11 when the family wagon rolled into Eau Claire. I was probably the first and last person to have a life-changing event there.
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.
There’s no fucking free lunch in this world, and that applies to beer too, goddamnit.
I really never cared about the life of birds before I met him. As long as they didn’t poop on my car or swoop down on my head, I hardly noticed they were there. But Alec was quick to point out when two hawks had 4 baby hawks in the big tree on the opposite side of my condo complex in Tucson.
I am a terrible disappointment to my father.
Lewis Black hates tennis. But he closed his show in Austin, Texas on Friday, Nov. 22 with a little tale about the John Newcombe Tennis Ranch. (video)
It hadn’t rained in Tucson for 50 days and 50 nights. The first time it did, my fucked up tennis friends “ran away” like they were being chased by a killer rabbit.
It’s an instinct that probably goes back to our days chasing mammoths over a cliff. Cyclists see another rider ahead and do everything they can to pass that bastard.
For more than half a century I took breathing for granted. Sure I would get out of breath on a mountain climb or a sprint, but then… hit 55 years old and dun, dun, dunnnn: exercise-induced asthma.
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.
There’s some shit for bloggers called a “Sunshine Award.” It’s for those who exhibit:
I know what you are thinking… and fuck you I could spread Sunshine…
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.
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.
Phoenix, Arizona, where mighty rivers go to die.
Phoenix is a giant sandy sponge that soaks up all the fresh water from 5 states. The Salt and Verde rivers bring water from northern Arizona and New Mexico and run dry 30 miles short of Phoenix. The underground aquifers of the Santa Cruz, Gila, Agua Fria and New rivers drift into the Valley of the Sun.