I was going to drink some beer with Brent tonight, but he’s at home watching movies with his brother. So I’m instead at Hot Corner drinking coffee and screwing around on my Mac.

Story time boys and girls.

I mentioned before that my dad was an alcoholic. If you have an alcoholic parent, then you probably have at least one good story about them busting their ass in a spectacular fashion. My dad didn’t disappoint.

I was probably in fifth or sixth grade. My friend Kris Ansley lived a couple miles down the road from me. My brother and I had ridden our bikes over to his house and were playing basketball or something out in his driveway. We were just out screwing around. Well, dad drove up and got out of his car. I think he told us to ride home or something. I’ll be honest, I can’t remember how he got this idea, but all of a sudden he wanted to show us that he could ride a bike. At the time, my dad was rather overweight. He weighed close to three hundred pounds. Did I mention that he was drunk? So Matt (my bro) and I were standing there, embarrassed as hell, as Dad straddled one of our bikes and began to ride around.

Then it was wheelie time…

Boom! Dad tried to pop a wheelie and the bike shot out from under him. He crashed down on his back with amazing force. Long story short, he broke many ribs and fucked his back up. We were too poor for him to get crutches, so he hobbled around the house for weeks using a rusty pogo stick. I can still hear the god awful screeching that thing made as he limped around the house. Not too long after this, my parents got divorced.

This is why we say “Drunk as a bicycle”