Posts Tagged ‘funny’

Unless you got a really good note from a doctor, you probably had to participate in gym class during your youth. From kindergarten until for some of us university, we had to learn physical education. During my time learning about my body and how useless it was when it came to sports, I realized there were always the same types of kids in my gym class every year.

gym class

(I couldn’t find a good picture of kids in gym class so I used this one of them running away from a classmate with a gun)

The Athlete

My high school had a lot of really talented athletes who went on to do nothing with their abilities because as talented at sports as they were in comparison to me they really weren’t very good compared to the Soviets or anyone else who drinks blood before going for a jog. The Athlete treats gym class as an exhibition. He will dominate you at foursquare and he doesn’t hide in the back of the kickball batting lineup like I always did. This is also the one subject the athlete can shine in. They tend to smile at the girls after scoring a layup and it always does the trick, charming the gym shorts off the females in the class.

The Girl

I thought girls were smart. Gym class proved to me that I was mistaken. So many girls would do whatever they could to get out of participating in gym class. Looking back I’m sure a lot of it had to do with their teenage body insecurities, but at the same time it’s not like I came from a generation that made us shower after class. I saw too many honor roll quality females get a C in gym class for simply not making an attempt at hitting a volleyball. Some girls who were otherwise social turned into shelled up antisocial outcasts during gym. They basically turned into me and that’s just sad.

The Red Faced Fat Kid

This was the category I often fell into. I was pretty competitive at sports before I didn’t have constant hip pain like I do now. When you are overweight and give it your all in sports this disgusting thing happens to your face where it turns red. Being of Irish descent, meaning I have the complexion of an unused Aryan toilet seat, my red face was a big change from my usual pale rash skin. I spent way too much time in gym class trying to win then heading off to math class smelling terrible and I would like to apologize to everyone who had to smell my pits whenever I raised my hand.

The Troublemaker

I have no medical license so I cannot completely diagnose these students who I saw as the gym class troublemakers. If I had to guess though they would probably have some form of severe ADD or demonic possession. Every year in gym class there was at least one kid who spent the entire period making monkey sounds while climbing on things he wasn’t supposed to. Other kids would shoot basketballs, purposefully missing and trying to hit other students in the head. I know this because sometimes I would do that. Given the choice between being known as the sweaty fat kid with the red face and the jerk, I will take being the jerk for eternity.

The Wannabe Athlete

These kids tended to hang around the real athletes only to realize they weren’t nearly as talented. Most of the time they were on the football team only because everyone makes the football team. After all, someone needs to get knocked over on a special teams play. The wannabe athletes were normally kids who would talk a big game and rarely back it up. At least as a red faced fat kid I wore my game on my face and on the huge circular sweat stain on the small of my back.

The Kid That Always Gets Hurt

You can toss this kind of gym class kid into any of the other categories as well, but this one is a necessary add-on for sure. Other than using a protractor incredibly wrong, gym class is usually the only class in school you will get hurt. A lot of the kids who always got hurt were athletes or the wannabe athletes. There was one kid I went to school with for years and every time he barely got touched he would pretend he was hurt really bad. He did this mostly whenever his team was losing or he screwed up, attempting to mask how his giant oval-shaped head was slowing him down during flag football. For some reason in his head he thought it was better to cry from an injury than admitting someone beat him fairly. I went to school with that kid for 13 years and we only have 5 mutual friends on Facebook. That shows you how different our social circles were.

The Take It Too Seriously Kid

Again, you can be other things and still be the take it too seriously kid. These classmates act as if they are going to win something more than a high-five from a teammate. The sport I remember seeing this kid in most was volleyball. My middle school and high school loved volleyball tournaments because it was non-violent and could be coed. Whenever a ball would land near a girl and she would step out of the way the kid who took it too seriously would scream at her like she lied about being on birth control. Why would you ever scream at a girl for wanting to not get sweaty? Needless to say, the kids that took gym class too seriously all ended up alone.

The Nerdy Girl That Actually Did Try

I would hate for you to think that I didn’t notice the girls who did try in gym class. Oddly enough from my experiences, the only ones who tried hard were the nerdy girls nobody ever noticed. Perhaps this is why they tried in gym class, to finally gain some credibility in the school. Most specifically I remember a particular nerdy girl trying to catch a kickball only for it to hit her in the face and knock her flat on her back. I think after that she learned her lesson that sports aren’t for everybody and she should stick to being weird and getting good grades. I have no idea where she ended up in life. Kudos to her, I wish I could be as elusive.


Posted: September 21, 2014 in Uncategorized
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When a person takes off their clothes slowly and it’s not in a struggling manner, we call it “stripping.” You can also call it stripping when you tear someone’s skin from their bodies. This form of stripping is slightly less sexy.

I’m sure by now you are lonely enough to be familiar with stripping. Instead I would just like to point out how I have been continuing with my own stripping career: in comic form!

About a year and a half ago I started making comic strips. Then I got a job and suddenly felt no motivation to work on any major project. I busy, tired, and I was also working on other things where I was being rewarded financially which meant I had to reward the government financially as well on my taxes.

Anyway, you are welcome to follow along with the comics. If you click on the below comic, one I HAVE RELEASED BEFORE SO YOU SHOULD FEEL TOTALLY COOL you will be taken to the blog where I post them every day at noon or whenever they decide to post because for some reason even though they’re scheduled to post at noon they never do.

34 - Doctor's Orders

I had a golden opportunity arise today. Unlike you though when I say “golden opportunity” I do not mean something positive. I mean it more reflects someone peeing in your face.

On July 17, 2013 I signed up on Yahoo Voices to begin publishing online for money! Real money. Real money I have had transferred into my bank account. Money I can use to buy things. Money I could spend to have someone killed! Certainly I felt very powerful with this…umm…power?

Today all of the contributors were informed that the site would be shutting down at the end of July and no new contact would be published. Considering this is the first, and still only, time I have made money writing I am a little upset. It was an easy side gig that easily supplemented my grocery bills. While I didn’t earn a living off of it, in the time I was there I earned almost $1700, $1500 of it this year alone. Writing about sports, television, movies, and fat kids was so easy. It was pleasurable to know I could dedicate my entire evening to writing something that would be published then rewarded with money. In fact, ever since I began writing for Yahoo Voices it kind of became the most time consuming thing I would do. I put screenwriting aside because I can’t think of anything less rewarding than spending months to put together a story only for it to lead to nothing. Okay, maybe being the parent of an ugly baby is worse.

There are lots of other websites out there seeking writers. The problem is Yahoo Voices was easy. You could write on whatever topic you wanted. You only had to reach 400 words. The guidelines were so carefree. Anyone could have made a pretty penny on it. Other sites require more attention to boundaries and regulations. They want you to follow a strict format and avoid using the n-word. Well, Yahoo Voices probably wouldn’t allow it either. They barely edited though and I doubt they ever would have noticed, but it would have been a risky maneuver anyway.

The first heartbreak with Yahoo came after I was accepted as a beat reporter for the Philadelphia Phillies back in January. By beat reporter I mean I wrote about the team and I had no credentials to do it other than I submitted an article they liked. In about a month doing that I managed to get about $300 and baseball season hadn’t even started. I even was awarded something about an article of the week where they basically said I sucked but my sucking was entertaining.

Where does this leave me? I could write here, though, at this point I don’t feel the same about standard blogging. This Mooselicker blog is more for random thoughts which are not edited very much because there’s no reason to. That’s the most valuable thing I think I earned, even above money, from writing on Yahoo Voices. I think I truly did become a better, albeit sometimes more boring, writer. I flush out the information quicker and more precise. I am more aware of words I use as crutches too. I got a lot of practice there and I think the real unfortunate thing is I don’t know where to go next.

I remain active on my sports blog Phalse Philly Sports which I enjoy and there is always fresh content. The problem with that is it could never go far as it’s nothing more than The Onion for Philadelphia Sports. Pictures are taken all willy-nilly from Google without properly crediting the source and so on. I’d almost rather that never get too big as the more attention I get the less I could get away with. Until an actual offer is made where I know people are depending on me to write for it there’s no reason to put in the added effort of trying to “make it big.”

Right now it looks like I’ll….well damn I’m not even quite sure. The weather is so hot it’s hard to imagine doing anything other than following the routine. I do get plenty of chances to write at work which is nice. Still, the compensation is not the same as being able to publish a couple hundred articles and track how they are doing on a daily basis.

Maybe this is why so many writers end up attempting to murder their families while watching hotels in the Colorado Mountains during a snowstorm. It’s a frustrating gig that nobody really gives a damn about.

Now to spend my night depress-eating followed up by regret-trying-to-pooping.

P.S. Why does WordPress decide to change everything without warning every time I post something?

Attention all bookworms. Today is the final day I can give away my book Silence: My Worst Stand-Up Comedy Performances and Experiences for free on Amazon. It will no longer be “Amazon Exclusive” after next week which means I can no longer have the option of making it free whenever I want. It will then be available on other formats where strangers can look at it then ask for refunds.

By now you will either get a copy or not. All I ask in return if you get a free copy is to leave a review when you get the chance. These are very helpful and indeed have helped me to sell copies to complete strangers. It’s also available in paperback which you could give two shits about so I won’t waste your time.

Instead here are 10 fun facts about this book and other related things.

1) I wrote the entire thing while standing up. Okay, so maybe I sat for a little bit of it, but a good majority of my writing was taking place while standing up. It still does. I read a Yahoo article that said sitting is bad so I try to do it less. My life has improved drastically since. I’m kidding. It still blows.

2) This book is made up of a few short stories, all of which are true and involve me getting stared at blankly. If you enjoy reading about other people’s pain then this is for you.

3) I wrote the whole thing in maybe 3 weeks. It’s about 26,000 words which averages out to a number of words per day I do not feel like calculating.

4) There were two stories I was going to add to this, but decided against because they didn’t quite fit or were too short. One was about a show I did where only two audience members showed up after seeing an advertisement about it on a Christian website. The one girl was really cute and smiled at me a lot before the show. Then the show started and she couldn’t wait to leave. She hated us all. The other one involves me almost starting fights with an Asian in the audience and a black man. Only the Asian had anything to do with race. I probably deserved to be roundhouse kicked to death by him.

5) I did indeed have a lot of really good shows. If you really are curious about the best night I ever had doing stand-up I could send you the story. I didn’t include it here because it’s for something else I have written where it would fit more. Plus this book is about failure. I had a girl from Germany, Tennessee, and two from Canada that night come after me with their legs open. What happened to me? I was so cool for that one 6 hour period.

6) I have no clue who one of the people who left a review is which makes me happy and I almost hope they never come forward.

7) Whenever I give away this book for free, it averages about 40 copies in the U.S. “purchased.” Of course it’s not a real purchase since my bank account stays as dry as the Sahara. Sahara of course being what I call–yeah I’ll stop here. It was going to be an old woman vagina joke.

8) The most famous person I ever performed on a show with was Jim Gaffigan. I didn’t see him perform. I heard he’s an asshole from 95% of the people who have met him.

9) One thing not included in the book was when I stole an audience member’s beer and drank from it. It was a cute little moment that was perfectly timed. he one-upped me when he stole my water and drank from it when I had my back turned. It was a perfect little cute moment, none of which are in this book.

10) I don’t burn bridges at all in this book which I am proud of. I don’t really have an animosity against anyone I met so I didn’t feel the need to. However, my next two books “autobiographical” books I am working on are all about burning bridges. For the sake of some brief hype, here are a few people I plan to shit on in future works from Tim Boyle. Think the description fits you? You should have been better.

-My first girlfriend

-The first girl to break my heart

-My first crush

-The homeless girl I went on a date with

-Two different pedophiles I encountered in my life

-The original drummer from Phish

-The Indian kid I sat with at lunch in 11th grade

-Every bully I ever had

-The girl who wanted me to have sex with her then kill her after

-The lesbians who tricked me into buying them drinks

-A girl with a giant empty cage in her bedroom for some reason

-A friend who tricked another friend into getting squirt with a hose so they could play ping pong shirtless

-The last man to touch my testicles

-The only person I have ever threatened to physically harm

-A stranger who tickled me in a Cracker Barrel

-And many more!

But before those are available there is more work to be done. There is still Silence: My Worst Stand-Up Comedy Performances and Experiences to be enjoyed multiple times.

silence standup

In an attempt to do more things other than write TV pilots that just sit as PDF files on my computer with nobody caring about them whatsoever, I decided a little over a week ago I should try to make my own show. I have an obsession with episodic storylines where we can watch a character grow along the way while others come and go. I tried acting in one idea I had which I still think is a great idea, only I’m a terrible actor and it would have taken me forever to do the editing because the free program I was using moved too slowly. If I wanted to create my own web series I would have to resort to animation. I found a free Stick Figure program online that I read was really simple. I tested it out and the next day I got to putting an actual idea together. The result, 4 straight days of hardly doing anything else other than animating stick figures to move, swear, and violently kill each other. In the end after what was a ridiculous amount of time I put into it, this was the result. The debut of Stick Prison an ultraviolent, bloody, foul comedy about Stick Figures in prison.


Feedback, ideas, or help in any way either creatively or simply by sharing this is anywhere you can think of is much appreciated.

Final Notes:

The YouTube URL in case you feel so inclined is: youtube=

The second episode should be out in 2 weeks.

Yes I did everything except the music. But I did have to search through a free archive for 4 hours to find something good. I did suffer.

I’m really tired.


I remember when I was younger and had a group of friends that I hung out with. We were inseparable. Mostly because nobody else in the class would talk to us.

We were a rag-tag group of misfits. One of them has a brother who plays professional baseball now. Another became prom king. The third was a very successful local musician. The fourth, well fuck, the fourth one in the group is me. Both of my sisters work with me. I didn’t go to prom. I could never get past the Intermediate level of Guitar Hero. Why do their lives rule while mine drools?

(My life in a picture. Who said babies are always cute?)

I’ve never really belonged in a group for too long. It’s part of the reason why I hate groups of friends. The Metallica song “Disappear” always reminded me of my friendships. The basic chorus goes “Just as soon as I belong, then it’s time I disappear.” That’s how you know your life isn’t very poetic. When James Hetfield can put it to music.

The one spot I’ve never successfully worked myself into was the spot in the group as the funny guy. Every group has one. It’s like the second one you need after the leader. I’ve come close to being the funny guy, but I’ve had a few things going against me. For one I’m way too attractive. I mean, my smile is just beautiful. My teeth glisten, the sun comes out and shines a little brighter. I’m sorry. I can’t help that my smile helped catch Osama Bin Laden.

Okay, realistically I’m not so incredibly dashing that I can’t pass as funny. I’m still pretty darn cute according to exactly 7 people I have met during the course of my life.  I use a miniature golf pencil to make the check marks because the pencils are so miniscule that they never get in the way. It sucks when you ask someone for a normal pencil and they hand you one of those. It’s like they’re insulting my tiny fingers. Mocking the fact that my hands resemble that of a tweenage girl.

(Not my hand. My mitts aren’t nearly that stubby or angelic)

My big problem with an inability to be the funny guy in the group is that I’m not funny unless I’m around other funny people. It’s true. Put me in a room full of politicians, principals, and war criminals I’m the most boring Ben Stein sounding person you’ve ever met. Switch the politicians to comedians and the principals into clown college students and the war criminals into a farting dog and I’m a hoot. I’m like a chameleon. I adapt to my surroundings. I don’t change colors though. Except that one Halloween I put on blackface and bought the house next door to upset my parents. Then they realized it was only me and we laughed about how there weren’t any minorities living within 5 miles of us.

To my UNKNOWLEDGE TREE!!! in order to be the funny guy of the group you need to have some obvious flaw. That’s why fat guys are usually funny. People can make fun of them and they can make fun of themselves. Guys with a strange limp or a colostomy bag too are usually the funny ones of the group. They have something noticeable about themselves that everyone can join in on the fun with. You know that they use their humor to get over their glaring problem. I don’t have any obvious physical or mental flaw. Sure, my voice sounds very gay in my own head and I’ve had a widow’s peak and a cow lick at the same time. They’re still not strong enough fodder to make me the clown of the group.

(Will Arnett, the only success story with a reciting hairline in history)

I remember back in high school hearing one of my teachers call a student in the class “the class clown.” This bothered me. His hair wasn’t nearly messy enough, skin wasn’t nearly pale enough, and his nose wasn’t round and red. My hair was very messy, I was and still am pretty pale thanks to my Irish heritage, and I remember having lots of facial rashes and pimples at that age. Particularly on my nose. I looked like a clown and here this douche was getting all of the clown praise. He was attractive and funny. He was everything that I wanted to be. Then a year later, at a urinal, where all of my best moments occur, he stepped up next to me. He told me how funny I was. I thought it was a trick. Like two other jock bully friends of his were going to jump me and take disposable camera pictures of my penis. Keep in mind, even in 2005 the use of disposable cameras was accepted.

My assumption of the class clown was wrong. He thoroughly and honestly thought that I had become a funny guy. Sure, that was a year that a lot in my life changed. I was no longer morbidly obese, I had confidence in just about everything I did, the blonde girl in front of me in history class let me smell her hair, and for the first time in my life I was comfortable with the man I was growing up to become and eventually loathe. Unfortunately, loving yourself is a recipe for not being funny. All of the great funny guys secretly or openly have some disdain for their own souls. I had forever lost my chance at being the funny guy. I chose loving myself over being well-liked and popular. Shit. I’m definitely making sure my kids don’t make that same mistake. I’m telling them everyday how much they suck.

For my younger readers, know that things do change when you get older. Being the funny guy no longer really matters. What people want in a friend is someone to listen to them. Someone to let them know they care. A shoulder to lean on when they’re not strong. An arm pit to cry into when they’ve had a bad day. Older people don’t care if you’re funny. All they care about is that every once in a while you pick up the tab. And I’m not talking about the Tab soda either. Bring Tab to a party and you’ll be the biggest joke in the funny guy’s repertoire.

(They used to say this caused cancer. Now it only causes you to be made fun of)

“Everybody funny. You funny too.” – George Thurogood and the Delaware Destroyers (Really? You want to be known for coming from Delaware?)

Sometimes I misunderstand what people say. It makes me come off like the idiot that I really am and not the brilliant specimen I have continued to fool people into thinking that I have the potential to be. Here are some of the ones that I remember and THE EMBARRASSMENT!!! they have caused me.

Setting: Target Department Store

I’m at the check out counter after buying my groceries. Yes, I buy my groceries from Target. I’m one of those greasy people. You might be laughing now, but I’m saving 30 cents on everything I buy. Suck it!

The check out counter girl was scanning my items as they are forced to do. She looked at me and said “What are you making?” A very obvious question. I’m buying lots of food. She thinks I’m making a concoction.

“What? Like $12 an hour.” I respond. Oof! What the fuck? Huh? I need my head checked. Why would she possibly care how much money I make? My thought process was that she thought I was buying so much stuff that I must be loaded. Yeah, people think that way. Dumb fuck me.

She explained herself and the next 2 minutes were awkward. For her that is. The rest of my life has been awkward.

Setting: Bus Stop

I’m waiting for the bus. There are a bunch of kids smaller and younger than me who scare me despite the age and size advantage I have. Today is no different. I’m sweating out of fear and fatness.

For this story, you need to know that my name is Tim. That’s all you need to know. Continuing–

One of these younger, smaller, scarier kids is goofing off. He’s never talked to me. He looks down at my boots and says “Are those Tims?”

“Yeah they’re mine.” I say. Oh fuck! This isn’t good. I completely missed what he was asking. He was asking if my shoes were Timberlands. The cool kids call them Tims for short. I thought he was asking if they belonged to–shit I’m dumb.

Setting: The Internet

I’m chatting up a storm with some girl I met in a chat room. The year is, 2001-2005. I’m fresh off of the September 11th attacks so my innocence should be long gone. It isn’t. I’m still a dumb fuck with no knowledge of the world.

This girl I’m talking to is hot. At least, her screen name is ModelMaterialMe87. Shit. She’s model material. Keep cool. I know she lives 2,000 miles south, but we can make this work.

She tells me that I’m making her horny. Really? I just put up an away message that says “brb”. You’re easy. She’s getting more and more aroused and then she wants to know more about me. “Are you cut?” she asks.

“No. I’m not that depressed.” Oh crap! I picked the wrong one! She was asking if I still had my foreskin or not. How should I have known? I don’t know what foreskin is. I’m a young teenage American. We don’t know that shit!

She explained what she meant and I understood. The biggest problem about it was that I had a few other potential answers that I was going to give her.

“No. My hair is pretty long right now.”

“No. I’m not that thin.”

“No. I can’t mow the lawn because I get really bad allergy attacks when I’m around freshly cut grass.”