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).
Listen my children, pick your career wisely. Nobody ever thinks about how many of your friends and family will expect “free service” for whatever skills you may
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.
It was Fourth of July weekend — 105+ degrees — and the Boy’s air conditioner went kaput.
The Boy made one little change on Facebook, and it sent the Savages into a tizzy.
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.
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
Remember when Obama said Hilary was “Likeable enough?” Well, she wasn’t, and neither am I.
Opened the fridge door — damn that smelled like shit. I knew exactly what to blame. That 18-inch long bag of celery.
While other people ignore the warnings and pack the airports, there will be no big Savage family Thanksgiving. Can’t have 20-plus people gather in 2020.
There are hours (never full days) when I miss being a teacher. Then the Bear tells me “how her day went” and I remember: ohh that shit sucks.
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.”
It only took 6 years to beat the Nazis. The Odyessey was done in 10. Wimps. It took me 50 years to finally win “the grass wars.”
My clueless riders, didn’t ask and didn’t know those things. They just assumed that everyone thinks it’s OK to endanger and maybe kill other people who don’t look like or sound like you.
My first tamale was “the Charles Barkley” of tamales, “terrible, just terrible.”