Posts Tagged → unfunny commentary

Less Than Fantastical

As this needless blog’s author, it is vital that I come up with new and fantastical ways to convey stories about my trivial life. This was super easy when racing bikes or at very least riding them. But these days, I am just another fat middle-class white guy on the conveyor belt of life looking for the tiniest shreds of happiness to get me through one day and on to the next. Goddamn, I love the smell of hyperbole in the morning!!

All semi-truths and joking aside, as much as I love writing this shit show, and sharing photos, some weeks I struggle to post anything at all. Some of that is laziness, some of that is time restraints, and some of that is a raging case of why can’t you just be like everyone else in the world and post your photos, kooky opinions, and unfunny sophomoric witticisms on Twitter, Facebook, TikTok, and Instagram?

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Birds, Bees, & Pulled Pork

This post comes to you with all the enthusiasm of a blind man entering a strip club. Of course, based on some of the strip clubs I’ve unfortunately been in during the early “bachelor party days” of my life (looking at you, Hi-Way Playground in Washington County, PA, circa 1996 with your free stage-side pizza), that’s probably a good thing. I digress.

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Standing on The Beach

For the first time in my life, I found myself in Manistee, Michigan, for a reason other than riding my bike, even though the Lumberjack 100 was coincidentally going on just up the road at Big M at the same time. With that in my head, I struggled to hold back my desire to regale Wifey with tales of my ONE Lumberjack 100 finish in 2009 (and multiple DNFs in later years) but instead focused on our little pre-planned-spur-of-the-moment day-trip to the beach.

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Sweaty Cargo Shorts

In all my 17+ years of writing this shit-show, I finally find myself with a bit of writer’s block. Whilst the masses rejoice in knowing they are safe from my long-winded posts of sophomoric humor, tales of self-loathing, sub-par chubby middle-aged white guy pseudo adventures, and nonsensical word salad, I bemoan my stifled mind.

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Fruits of Thy Creeping

The past couple of weeks have been a blur of keeping up with B’s last days as a high school senior and his last weeks of club soccer. Somewhere between all that stuff, I’ve been at the gym 3 to 4 times a week, taking care of the springtime needs of the Cul De Sac Shack and getting out for some creeps around the woods, stalking birds and other critters with my camera.

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Unfuzzyness

You may or may not remember the issues with my vision that sent me to my eye doctor a few weeks ago, where I was diagnosed with cataracts and sent to see an eye surgeon to get shit rolling for surgery this summer. Well, the appointment with the surgeon was this morning, and after a bunch of tests, it turns out I do NOT have cataracts but was suffering from a dry eye episode that was causing the blurred vision and light sensitivity. 

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