Lady-Friend thinks I’m a big, fat sissy.
Not that she’s wrong, it’s just that when I feel under the weather– like this past weekend– I tend to become, well, less productive. So when I was feeling like Job, savoring a case of hives piggy-backed to an ongoing case of antibiotic-induced indigestion and crawling into …
Little Dude’s been in metaphorical fisticuffs with the whole potty training concept for a while now. He gets it, but apparently when you’re four and playing is happening, you ain’t got time to mess with no toilet. Most days, it all works out. Other days, underpants are very, very sad.
Yesterday, Lady-Friend sensed danger and …
I’m pretty sure 1986 was the year scientific fact established there’s never been a food invented that’s out-sublimed the American invented, meal-in-one hamburger. As a flawless food ecosystem, hamburgers represent paper wrapped miracles of protein, fats, carbs and vegetable packed into a versatile puck of fantasticalness.
Which makes this statistical work of art endlessly fascinating. Below …
Dear Little Sis-
My genetics are strong. I’m sorry.
Love,
Papa
It’s not that I liked nudity, I was just dumb.
Way, way, way back in the carefree 70′s I was a blond kid visiting my Grandparents in the oak hills of Los Altos California, sucking down fresh apricots, hiding/peeing (yeah, sorry about that) under mandarin orange trees and chasing blue-bellied lizards with a roaming band of …
Our neighbors have a cat. An aloof, patio furniture ruining, late night meowling turd that’s stripped the bark from most of our trees and turned our flower beds into its own private crap crypt.
To you– you stuck up little orange-haired bastage!– I dedicate this vintage short:
After hyperventilating/fist shaking my way through double-digit subtraction in second grade, math and I parted ways. We haven’t really spoken much since. According to pseudoscience, our estrangement was an early hint I’m a “Right Brain” kind of guy– a mentally touchy-feely weakling bullied by the might of chemistry, calculus, and common sense.
While admiring this surprising …
Life and its free epiphanies. You know the kind: moments where random events congeal to deliver a whopping Jell-O casserole of realization. The kind of realization that allows you to belatedly understand laughter doesn’t necessarily mean “Go on, tell me your best poop joke.”
On a normal morning, Little Dude wanders into our bed ready for …
Lady Friend’s Les Mills RPM certification and gung-ho leap into all things Spin has me worried.
I’m next.
After six months of relative hibernation and inactivity, I feel like those guys from early 2000 TV shows– the sitcoms where the fat husky everyman has inexplicably scored a hot wife. Not that I’m currently enjoying the extra …
I blame it on morbid curiosity. Last night, I made the mistake of voluntarily watching The Bachelor finale. Specifically, a few minutes of the embarrassing “pick the chick you want in the sack and ditch the one you’d actually marry” moment.
And it was wincingly painful.
The only time I’ve ever felt more uncomfortable and awkward was …
