About Me

April 25, 1985, a baby was brought into this world.  Born this  day was not  just any baby, but a very special baby.  Well, there were probably a few special babies born that day.  The baby I’m talking about is none of these babies.  This baby began writing at the tender age of 3 months, when I wrote a giant ‘O’, using the only form of pen and ink I possessed, wee wee from my pee pee.  Of course, it just looked like a big piss stain, so I wasn’t quite ready for a writing career.  A short time later, at age three, my engineering skills took over, and I designed my first boat.  My father, upset that his son had thrown the TV remote into the toilet, suggested I put that career on hold as well.  By age 27, that ravishing young boy has grown into a kind young man, and then a complete prick, but then nice again, then prick, but now am generally tolerable.

My name is Brian Rooney.  I am a fully employed engineer and semi-amateur comic writer.  I design pipes and such.  It’s fairly simple.  All the nasty stuff flows uphill.  Or is it downhill?  I can never remember, so I just mix it up a bit.  It all gets buried so no-one will notice.  This website has nothing to do with that side of my life.  RooneyOnTheSly is my amateur foray into the art of humour based writing.  It tests the waters of my comic abilities.  I aim to become an employable comedy writer.  I was born, raised, and currently reside in Vancouver, Canada.  My pursuits include soccer, football, windsurfing, kickboxing, wakeboarding, skiing, snowboarding, playing guitar, cooking, but my main obsession is lists of pursuits.  I once killed a rock fish with my bare hands. It turned out to be just a rock.  Plus it landed on my toe, so really, the rock won.

As this is a work in progress, I appreciate greatly any feedback, positive or constructive, or even worse, though try to keep the filth to the privacy of your bedroom or the history of your internet explorer.


6 thoughts on “About Me

  1. God I’m such a loser! I’m digging into a bowl of hagen daaz now. Melted ice cream is dribbling down my unkempt beard. Wait, is that my tears or the ice cream? No, its a mix of both pooling on my tummy as I lie here weeping. It slow stains my old wedding dress which I pulled out of the box to confirm that I still can’t fit into it! Wait, what, wedding dress?

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