...on working from home

so after a morning of working from home and working en route to it, the boy and i went to the park to ride our bikes.

let me back up. the bastard and his ladyfriend had been discussing how i wanted to start riding bikes again and coincidentally, so did she.

so we decided to buy something that would better fit into my tiny automobile. yeah, yeah, the bastard has gone on ad nauseum about how he feels about bicyclists and their entitlement issues and inability to simply obey traffic laws but, i bought a helmet. i bought a bike that has, get this, BRAKES. i stop at, get this, STOP SIGNS. but i digress, the boy and i went bicycling.

and it was prety good. it's true what they say about riding a bike. we went around for a bit and i decided to call it quits at the park when the bastard saw that what appeared to be a drug deal was about to go down. you see, the bastard wants his son to have a childhood.


SPECIAL BONUS BATTER: suburbia strikes again, kids. after the park, the boy and i went to get me a bike helmet, you know, because the bastard has already experienced WHY one should wear a helmet. we also stopped for lunch at the mall (cuz that's where the damn sporting goods shop is, dummy) and i saw what can only describe as, retarded tattoo number 356; also known as the life affirming, but poorly placed tattoo. you see, the bastard has friends that have ink. and they didn't do it half assed.

no.

they use their whole ass.

the funny thing is, this girls tattoo says carpe diem on her foot. i wonder if she always seizes the day by the foot. oh suburbia, why do you give the bastard so much to work with. maybe she can get a rose or a butterfly tattooed on her ankle too. or maybe a tramp stamp. the bastard is kind of glad he had a son instead.

—the bastard