Look down when you are leaving the bar at the 3rd world racquet club — one of these steps is not like the others. It’s blonde and has a slightly different pattern
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.
I’m sure you will agree that birthdays are BULLSHIT. You have done nothing to deserve all this. Today, you are just a hairy freeloader forcing a social tax on your friends for food, drinks and gifts. Congratulations — you are now a socialist.
Among the Pendejos we have a split decision on whether Shad should be nominated for a bronze medal in Dick Move of the Year 2021.
After a dozen years of living part time in the Dirty T, right around Christmas, I quit my job — so I’m selling my condo and abandoning the third-world racquet club.
Turns out the woman who I have referred to as “The Bear” on the internet for the past three years is not an animal at all.
She’s my Sugar Mama… showering me with all of that sweet, sweet teacher money.
Jesus wanted our money — but this time it was for a good cause: better brewing from Larry, for fuck’s sake.
I bumped into the shaming couple in the third world club the other night. They asked one simple question. They didn’t like my answer.
Just because you are wrapped in two tons of steel and plastic doesn’t mean you get to run over anything that slightly annoys you — especially a fat biker just out for a ride.
The CVS drugstore near my office is clean, efficient, and can fill every imagniable personal need.
It’s fucking amazing. I love it.
Unfortunately, it’s more of a magnet for crime than a two-dollar whore house.
I was just two windows away from my second possible menage-a-trois, and I’m so old, I didn’t even turn around to look.
Believe it or not, I have a friend, who recently became “famous” for quitting. Well, at least “internet famous” (in Tucson only) when he quietly retired.
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.
I fucking knew Josh and Angry Ed would not be able to let that go. I would have bet a month’s pay it would be Angry Ed… but it wasn’t.
Being a fat biker (pedaling not Harley) with no pigment leaves me little choice. I have to ride at night or risk Satan’s kisses (sunburn all over).
I’m a night person anyway. I put on two motorcycle power headlights, a flashing red tail light and head out once the sun turned off.