Comedy Collection
I might have to break a couple of semi-famous thumbs.
These assholes got these rants started. It could be a never-ending source of fake anger, sarcasm, and petty feuds. And crustacean jokes — lots of crustacean jokes.
I might have to break a couple of semi-famous thumbs.
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’ve ranted, raved and complained like a 2-year-old with no cookie about the United States Tennis Association. And just when I thought I was out for good, they pulled me back in.
I learned something deep and dark about myself. If two of my friends ever go to hunt down the last white tiger on earth, the Bear and I would tag along, not say a fucking word, and laugh at all the wrong times.
Sounds awful I know.
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.
After years of physical therapy and anti-inflammatories, followed by months of injections and finally artho knee surgery, I finally found my “miracle”. Cortisone.
I only have one “sex” story that I used to share in public.
I was 16 years old and working at the ghetto grocery store that was a few blocks from my parents’ house. One winter night around 9 p.m. I was rounding up the last of the shopping carts in the parking lot.
This tiny little rusted out piece-of-shit sedan was a rockin’.
We all have our little addictions. Some good, some not so good. For the past decade, I’ve been hooked on the crack.
The surgeon looked at me with the kind of disgust one saves for making sure the cockroach is dead before you throw it in the trash.
“What do you mean it still hurts?” he said. “You had a leaf tear and I smoothed it all out.”
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.
Waiting for my slot to get my knee surgery, the surgeon was killing time and hung out at my bedside for a while.
Saturday morning there were 3 cookies left — the Savage chocolate chip cookies with just the right amount of crack.
“Those are for you and your brother,” the Bear said. “You figure out how to share them.”
I know it probably won’t work, but I’m signing up for surgery.
I’ve combined advil and tylenol. I’ve done the physical therapy, the braces and the weird shots of sugar and bacteria — or spun out particles of my own blood.
Left knee got better. Right knee got worse.
My Fucked-Up Tennis Team is now completely fucked-up in an entirely new way.
Neurodivergent Writer & Teacher / Powered by ADHD
Tripping over roots and rocks since 1996
Bad advice for a father trying to do good by his family.
When In Doubt, Go Big.
Not suitable for children, the sensitive or those hoping to get into heaven.
An atheist blog that seeks to discredit the Bible by exposing its silliness.
Pieces of life and the love of family mixed with the passion to ride
Like Mother Teresa, only better.
Riding the South Coast of Massachusetts and Rhode Island
cycling less than i plan
"Nothing that happens to a writer -- however happy, however tragic -- is ever wasted." ~ P.D. James
playwright, screenwriter, and novelist
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
"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
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.
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