Fantz in Your Pants: Medallion for the stallion
Dear Ms. Fantz, As a retired Kentucky Derby horse, I’ve been relegated to breeding to spread my statuesque genes. I seriously have to pump the pretty ladies up with my...
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Fantz in Your Pants: My creative crony John Bear jumped the journalism ship
Over the years, when journalist John Bear would join me for my smoke breaks at work, the asphalt parking lot would magically transform into a wildly bizarre movie set —...
Fantz In Your Pants: Kicking ass and wishing for naps
"There's a saying that goes, 'If you want something done, ask a busy woman to do it,'" Hillary Clinton said in a recent Time Magazine story about Nancy Pelosi.
Fantz in Your Pants: Crucify the journalist
I wish I could scream to the depths of my black lungs to you people, but I can't because: 1. I'm wearing the ass-end of a month-long flu that annihilated...
Fantz in Your Pants: Balls out for the bracket
Remember when Florida won the college hoops National Championship in 2006? Of course you do. Mmm. Billy Donovan and Joakim Noah. Put me in a spoon sandwich with that Silver...
Fantz in Your Pants: Beer boners and shamrock bongs
"Lift up your kilt!" Years back, I remember a pack of rabid dumbasses with faux Irish accents screaming this for 15 minutes while we waited in line for portable potties....
Fantz in Your Pants: Swiping enthusiast
Dear Christy, I've swiped on so many damn dating apps that I was walking with my friends and I totally did it IRL, like in the air, in front of...
Fantz in Your Pants: View from the litter box
"Get off my lawn, asshole," I said through my outdoor camera to the neighbor cat. Leering at the camera with shiny reflective retinas, he pooped on my sidewalk, mad-dogging the...
Fantz in Your Pants: The case of Doudy Draw’s missing drawers
I have a favorite place to stop off of Highway 93 where I breathe in the majestic scenery and exhale my problems into the valley below the Flatirons. I've never...
Fantz in Your Pants: What the cluck
Before I walked into a local joint for a beverage, while snuffing my cancer stick in the ashtray (talk dirty to me), a fine-looking thirtysomething asked me if he could...