Favorite
A dollop of spit clings to the old man’s grin as he hands you a note. He’d tried to convey the awesomeness of your rendition of “Burning Love” with words, but his toothlessness muffled everything in gummy gibberish. You squint down at his chicken scratch: “No Obama! Damn! What soup!” You assume it’s English. You also assume it’s a compliment. Read more...
Favorite
If you’ve just kicked back in a turquoise, tuck-and-roll captain’s chair at the bar, you’ve lucked into a prime spot for viewing the five flat-screens flickering overhead. During a commercial, however, it’s acceptable to swivel around and soak up the rowdy, clubhouse caterwaul hurtling out of the mouths of pizza-and-beer-slurping blue collars. What was that mother-scratching idiot referee thinking? Kobe, Read more...