Tag Archives | unfunny commentary

Dealing With Black Dogs

I’ve never been a great writer, but enjoy writing; thus, the continued publication of this blog. Sorry?

However, in the past couple of months, my posts have become more subpar than usual. One of the major factors has been the appearance of Lola (the dog) in my life. I love her, but she’s a puppy and puppies need near constant attention lest ye have your living room shat upon and chewed to bits. Every week she gets a little better, but finding moments of peace to sit down and write can be difficult when home alone.

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Angry Bird

I got out for a nice 27-mile ride on Tuesday. I’ve had better rides, but God knows I’ve had worse rides, so I’ll just shut my cake trap and be happy that I was out on my bike, the sun was out, and I returned with the faint hints of sunburn to my raw chicken fat looking man-flesh.

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More Wetness

After a fun time in the woods on my mountain bike Sunday morning, I was hoping for more of that today. Sadly, a Memorial Day spent mulching and planting, and Tuesday morning rains and house duties had me settling for a quick hike around the Bundy Hill Preserve.

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Heaping Gobs of Love

The time between rides these days is vast. Horrible spring weather, a super busy soccer schedule for B, time at the bike shop, and a scorching case of don’t give a shit have all played a part in my lack of saddle time.

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Seeing Red

A rain filled week of fall-like weather combined with work at the shop and a LOT of travel for B’s soccer meant that there was only one ride had all of last week; a quick 22.5 mile ride on Saturday morning.

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The Spring of My Discontent

The thing about a Michigan spring is that there is no Michigan spring. Sure, it doesn’t snow as much, but steady rain and 39˚ does not make a spring, nor do sunny skies, 40˚ temps with 30 MPH winds to make it feel like it’s 25˚.

A 60˚ day of pleasure will be offered forth from the raised robes of Ma Nature on occasion, but for the most part, we just freeze our tits off nine months out of the year and roast our balls/lady bits off the other 3. I don’t know why I bother typing any of this, it is what it is, and I can do nothing but do what I do: pack on another layer of blubber, never put away my collection of flannel shirts, and buy another 12 pack of IPA to drink as I sit and wait for the brief respite of summer.

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The Search For an Enema

After last Thursday’s rainy hike, I was in the shop on Friday. Then on Saturday B’s team had their first State Cup match of 2019 winning by a score of 2-1 (yeah!).

Easter Sunday was filled with slack and little to do with Easter. I’m not so religious (12 years of Catholic school riddled guilt, and a nation of right-wing religious nut bags and their vile hypocrisy leaves me with a low tolerance for it), so I basked in the glow of laziness, the bright spring sunshine, beer, and footy on TV.

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