Iron What?
Ironing is fucking stupid and dangerous, and we should all stop it.
Hot conspiracy
I believe my friends have entered in a conspiracy with my wife and the Lord… to kill me.
Pumpkin house
For Jerry Seinfeld, it was cabinets — for me it was paint. Gary can paint it any color you want. You just have to “say” what you want.
I’m dreaming of a white tortilla
We’ve been married for more than 35 years. It almost ended this past Christmas Eve.
Broke ass Boy
A month before his wedding, my son took 15 of his best friends on a bachelor party trip that included surfing in San Diego and at least one day trip to Tijuana.
“Our Story” — rewrite from the groom’s father
Fucking weddings have gotten even more complicated. Now you have to have a website with invitations, RSVP’s, maps, shit to do, the mandatory shopping lists (registry) and the obligatory “Our Story.”
Somehow it became my job to review my son’s website and send him feedback and corrections (thanks to the project management skills of the wife). Mostly around “Our Story,” because his story is not as good as his cousin’s (who just got married Sept. 29).
Dry Fit
Tennis players are a bunch of cheap bastards, and for 40 years, I fit right in. But then I made the mistake of taking the wife to Indian Wells.
The emperor has ugly toes
I don’t like strangers touching me. It took me years to learn how to enjoy a haircut. “You are going to love it,” the wife said in a way we both knew was a lie.
God and Gunpowder
It’s the 4th in Phoenix, time to prove how much you love your country by burning it down.
The upside-down
It was Fourth of July weekend — 105+ degrees — and the Boy’s air conditioner went kaput.
“Covid” cough at the club
“I’m dying,” the wife said in a way we all knew she was not.
Pathetic Hopeless Alcoholic
Hi, my name is Kieran, and I am a pathetic, hopeless alcoholic — at least according to the wife I am.
Today ain’t your birthday, Boy
The Boy made one little change on Facebook, and it sent the Savages into a tizzy.
Putin and other neighbors
Most of my neighbors are so fucked up I can barely look them in the eye, but the Bear and the boy keep dragging me into conversations with them.
Thanks-grilling
About 30 Savages invaded the Bear’s home on Thursday — yes it was Thanksgiving. We had shish-kaboobs outside in 90-degree heat at 1 p.m
KieranHumor.com 