i was driving down Vine on Sunset on my way to buy some gay products at Bed Bath and Beyond when I heard a thud followed by a car spinning out, ramming into a pole and against a hydrant.
In the ensuing moments, I saw that this Audi had clipped a pedestrian while speeding through to make a turn and because he was driving so hard, hit the brakes so hard that it spun his car out and he wrecked the left side of his car. There is no way that car isn't a total loss.
The second strange thing I noticed as I was pulling over because I can't not look was that a cop was stopped at the light perpendicular to where said driver was coming from, and this cop not only saw the whole thing but instantly hit his lights and blocked off half of the street in an instant swift motion. It was almost cinematic, like how a child would imagine a car accident might happen, with the police there instantaneously.
Once the driver and his passenger got out of his car, we got a solid look at him. This kid was a douchebag. Clearly young, clearly stupid with big sunglasses and a stupid semi-sideways hat on and a young dumb looking girlfriend consoling him. It seemingly must have been the first serious moment of this young kid's life, realizing he'd fucked up his (dad's) car, someone else's life and the paramedics came minutes later and toted this poor hurt guy away while the asshole driver was standing there, dumbfounded.
It was one of those moments where so much was going on but nothing was going on. The kid just stood there, dumbfounded as his dumb girlfriend hugged him repeatedly. At that moment it was as if he realized what his life might be; a meaningless accident to most but this will probably haunt him for a long time. A thoughtless act, a stupid need to make it through the damn red light and a moment most that saw it probably won't forget.
It was one of those depressing moments when you realize an asshole like that can actually effect your life. Needless to say people, don't speed through red lights. And walk when the little white man in all of his white power, tells you to walk. Never when he says don't walk, because thats when things like this happen.
I'm definitely reluctant to be the party host tonight. It was a really serious kinda day.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
It's a boy
pardon me as i'm sotally tober, just exhausted.
I went from hosting a table at a party to a red-eye back home where i was picked up by my pregnant yet slimmer sister, who took me in the rental car to get our mother and then immediately to an ultrasound so we could find out if my sister is having a boy or a girl.
the ultrasound is a long boring process but it was amazing to see the baby kick, its ten fingers, ten toes, and...then it was hard to see anything else. I was tired, i was pissed. I just really wanted to know.
My sister went into the bathroom and rested, hoping the kiddo would move but something inside me akin to a possessed animal took over.
"I am your uncle and you will worship me and do as I tell you and I need to see what you are so I will give you the biggest brio train set i can find if you show me."
I grabbed my crackberry and then posted that the ultrasound results were inconclusive and I was not going to know right now.
Ahem. If there's one thing I know about the way the world works, is if you say something wont happen, it'll do the opposite. I knew that in posting what i was posting, the world would turn it on me. That happens with the force of intentionality.
skip ahead a few minutes...i emailed my friends who were excited, sister sits down and we go through the motions again. Well.....the woman dragged the funky instrument and then pointed out a very definitive image of what looked like a lil baby's johnson.
Ahem. Not only did my promise of gifts inspire the kiddo but my murphy's law REVERSAL worked as well. Going to be a boy, I'm so freaking excited and cannot wait to meet him. Despite the tiredness, today was a great day.
ok, the good part's done. Another good yet tedious thing: spent $40 extra on my jetblue flight to get extra legroom. Wow, worth it. Totally worth it. Took my medicinal cocktail and passed the hell out. Was glorious to wake up and almost be landing.
other good part -- there was a girl at the bank here who was sweet on me and i was going to take out to dinner but she kept playing dumb stupid girl games by not responding to my emails and at one point (pardon the repeat) talking to my mother about my schedule while I was in town. The way to my penis is not through my mother. Long story short, I wanted her to go away. But today came and I was going to see her for dinner and I called her and told her (second or third time) to text me her cell. So we could go get dinner. i was all set to do this. I called her to say "take my number." Welllllll....guess who never got a call?
Probably chickened out or wrote the wrong number down but after all the shenanigans, this was so expected. Another weak-assed, pathetic massachusetts dumbshit girl that I don't have to deal with and kick aside. I am very grateful for that.
Otherwise i'm stuffed fulla indian and then chinese food. xanax and norco. i need sleep but im still awake. weird
I went from hosting a table at a party to a red-eye back home where i was picked up by my pregnant yet slimmer sister, who took me in the rental car to get our mother and then immediately to an ultrasound so we could find out if my sister is having a boy or a girl.
the ultrasound is a long boring process but it was amazing to see the baby kick, its ten fingers, ten toes, and...then it was hard to see anything else. I was tired, i was pissed. I just really wanted to know.
My sister went into the bathroom and rested, hoping the kiddo would move but something inside me akin to a possessed animal took over.
"I am your uncle and you will worship me and do as I tell you and I need to see what you are so I will give you the biggest brio train set i can find if you show me."
I grabbed my crackberry and then posted that the ultrasound results were inconclusive and I was not going to know right now.
Ahem. If there's one thing I know about the way the world works, is if you say something wont happen, it'll do the opposite. I knew that in posting what i was posting, the world would turn it on me. That happens with the force of intentionality.
skip ahead a few minutes...i emailed my friends who were excited, sister sits down and we go through the motions again. Well.....the woman dragged the funky instrument and then pointed out a very definitive image of what looked like a lil baby's johnson.
Ahem. Not only did my promise of gifts inspire the kiddo but my murphy's law REVERSAL worked as well. Going to be a boy, I'm so freaking excited and cannot wait to meet him. Despite the tiredness, today was a great day.
ok, the good part's done. Another good yet tedious thing: spent $40 extra on my jetblue flight to get extra legroom. Wow, worth it. Totally worth it. Took my medicinal cocktail and passed the hell out. Was glorious to wake up and almost be landing.
other good part -- there was a girl at the bank here who was sweet on me and i was going to take out to dinner but she kept playing dumb stupid girl games by not responding to my emails and at one point (pardon the repeat) talking to my mother about my schedule while I was in town. The way to my penis is not through my mother. Long story short, I wanted her to go away. But today came and I was going to see her for dinner and I called her and told her (second or third time) to text me her cell. So we could go get dinner. i was all set to do this. I called her to say "take my number." Welllllll....guess who never got a call?
Probably chickened out or wrote the wrong number down but after all the shenanigans, this was so expected. Another weak-assed, pathetic massachusetts dumbshit girl that I don't have to deal with and kick aside. I am very grateful for that.
Otherwise i'm stuffed fulla indian and then chinese food. xanax and norco. i need sleep but im still awake. weird
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Kickball? No thanks
I have a story to share…about life being too fucking short and how sometimes,
you spend money and learn a lesson, instead of getting your moneys worth.
I signed up for kickball because I thought it might be fun. $70 for the season, might be nice to meet new people, right? So I get these poorly organized emails about shit..not understanding whats up. I try to go on the website to understand it but it's nothing but crazy charts about games and shit -- NO REAL organization.
I finally get a real email and find out that there was some rules clinic. I was like "OK, I'll move my plans and go to this fucking rules clinic...." and then I get an email. "How'd you like to go to the Dodgers game? Second row behind home plate?"
My manties became soaking wet and instead of learning kickball rules, I ate prime rib and shrimp and all-you-could-eat everything. It was pretty bitching. After all, I didn't sign up for kickball to care about rules. It's fucking kickball
So whatever, I missed the rules clinic and decided I'd go to the first practice. Why not? Lets see if I'm any good still. Well, within five minutes, I totally ate it and fucked up my knee, badly. Bleeding and stripped of all skin badly. No bueno.
I didn't kick well but I did have two key plays; at one point, this girl was running to first base where I was and I reached to catch the ball and she ran RIGHT into me. I did not at all feel the hit but she was barely gasping for air -- I guess I am still a tough SOB made of steel.
After she caught her breath, the next player kicked a pop up directly to me, at which time, I realized the ginge that had ran into me was off-base, and I tossed the ball at her softly to get an un-assisted double-play. Thats right fuckasses, I rule.
I started realizing that the people were were playing with, in a meaningless scrimmage, were getting hostile about the rules. One of these guys was an Indian kid who kept yelling over me as I was trying to coach third base. Dude, I was just trying...making an attempt. And here's this asshole yelling over me to other baserunners. I didn't realize that kickball was going to be something that losers with no lives played. I thought even practicing might be fun?
But much like at every bar in America, somebody needs to pretend to be a big man by puffing themselves up like they're important.
I was talking to one of the players on the way out who wanted to make it clear to me that there are other people on other teams who are bullies and get very aggressive and sometimes that aggression spills off-field.
Um, what? Motherfuckers, this is KICKBALL. This is a schoolyard sport, this isn't something you should want to kill a bitch over.
It's like they have no control over their lives and decided that kickball was where they were going to take out their aggression.
I got sick a couple days later (as I previously wrote, colds suck.) As I was going to take care of my knee, I started getting emails. From the kickball league. From other players. About stupid shit like manditory (?) refereeing of games and drinking after the game and who is bringing equipment and what the rules are and everyone was replying-all to all of the emails and I'm like, this sucks.
I made an email folder about kickball and set a filter to move every kickball email into the kickball folder.
I already am pretty pissed off. And I was getting better and going to go for a game and it was a Wednesday night and I was having a bad day and started thinking to myself "why am I fucking dealing with this shit?" so I called my sister and was like “Tell me I’m not insane…I’m getting ass-raped with emails about rules, the other players are hyperaggressive douches AND I might get in fights over kickball?”
I spent $70
And within 5 minutes, got hurt
Within an hour, felt mistreated during a scrimmage
Within two hours, was told people were really aggressive and might get in fights over play.
IS IT WORTH $70 to never have to fucking do this again?
I felt 100% better once I made the decision to quit.
I haven’t looked back.
Relief from stress is worth $70. I promise you that.
Even if its the stress of getting away from something you thought you would enjoy.
Your little nugget to chew on today.
you spend money and learn a lesson, instead of getting your moneys worth.
I signed up for kickball because I thought it might be fun. $70 for the season, might be nice to meet new people, right? So I get these poorly organized emails about shit..not understanding whats up. I try to go on the website to understand it but it's nothing but crazy charts about games and shit -- NO REAL organization.
I finally get a real email and find out that there was some rules clinic. I was like "OK, I'll move my plans and go to this fucking rules clinic...." and then I get an email. "How'd you like to go to the Dodgers game? Second row behind home plate?"
My manties became soaking wet and instead of learning kickball rules, I ate prime rib and shrimp and all-you-could-eat everything. It was pretty bitching. After all, I didn't sign up for kickball to care about rules. It's fucking kickball
So whatever, I missed the rules clinic and decided I'd go to the first practice. Why not? Lets see if I'm any good still. Well, within five minutes, I totally ate it and fucked up my knee, badly. Bleeding and stripped of all skin badly. No bueno.
I didn't kick well but I did have two key plays; at one point, this girl was running to first base where I was and I reached to catch the ball and she ran RIGHT into me. I did not at all feel the hit but she was barely gasping for air -- I guess I am still a tough SOB made of steel.
After she caught her breath, the next player kicked a pop up directly to me, at which time, I realized the ginge that had ran into me was off-base, and I tossed the ball at her softly to get an un-assisted double-play. Thats right fuckasses, I rule.
I started realizing that the people were were playing with, in a meaningless scrimmage, were getting hostile about the rules. One of these guys was an Indian kid who kept yelling over me as I was trying to coach third base. Dude, I was just trying...making an attempt. And here's this asshole yelling over me to other baserunners. I didn't realize that kickball was going to be something that losers with no lives played. I thought even practicing might be fun?
But much like at every bar in America, somebody needs to pretend to be a big man by puffing themselves up like they're important.
I was talking to one of the players on the way out who wanted to make it clear to me that there are other people on other teams who are bullies and get very aggressive and sometimes that aggression spills off-field.
Um, what? Motherfuckers, this is KICKBALL. This is a schoolyard sport, this isn't something you should want to kill a bitch over.
It's like they have no control over their lives and decided that kickball was where they were going to take out their aggression.
I got sick a couple days later (as I previously wrote, colds suck.) As I was going to take care of my knee, I started getting emails. From the kickball league. From other players. About stupid shit like manditory (?) refereeing of games and drinking after the game and who is bringing equipment and what the rules are and everyone was replying-all to all of the emails and I'm like, this sucks.
I made an email folder about kickball and set a filter to move every kickball email into the kickball folder.
I already am pretty pissed off. And I was getting better and going to go for a game and it was a Wednesday night and I was having a bad day and started thinking to myself "why am I fucking dealing with this shit?" so I called my sister and was like “Tell me I’m not insane…I’m getting ass-raped with emails about rules, the other players are hyperaggressive douches AND I might get in fights over kickball?”
I spent $70
And within 5 minutes, got hurt
Within an hour, felt mistreated during a scrimmage
Within two hours, was told people were really aggressive and might get in fights over play.
IS IT WORTH $70 to never have to fucking do this again?
I felt 100% better once I made the decision to quit.
I haven’t looked back.
Relief from stress is worth $70. I promise you that.
Even if its the stress of getting away from something you thought you would enjoy.
Your little nugget to chew on today.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Don’t take away my simple pleasures
I have a lot of current sources of illegitimate rage going on, many of which I need to figure out but the absolute lowest level on the totem pole is the thought in my head right now: my simple pleasures are being eaten away.
This burst of angry energy of mine may stem from the fact that it’s so hard to connect with people anymore, but I think the root of it is that everyone is so busy being preoccupied about being preoccupied.
For example, automatic toilets piss me off. They flush before I have time to admire or be repulsed by my shit. You’re going to flush before I can even finish wiping? Really? Where’s the joy in being able to marvel at last night’s dinner? A simple example, yes. Not a general one everyone would understand.
It’s almost like TV. Yes, TV has been ruined. It used to be a joy, once I got Tivo, to be able to watch a show and fly past the commercials. As people realized what Tivo was…networks adapted. You can’t watch Top Chef without it brought to you by some commercial venture. You can’t watch the Biggest Loser without being goaded into buying some new product. And ESPN can fuck me with a Microplane zester for all of the scrolling over and over and over my precious 1980’s wrestling programs that I want to see in their videotaped glory.
Technology, as we know it, is fucking us. It’s not fucking us fast and hard or slowly with a lil Zapp and Roger in the background making us feel all special and shit. Technology is boffing us like a drunk kid on on prom night, happily taking away from us what we once held dear: our time, energy and money.
I’m not a luddite by any stretch of the imagination. I just know that there’s so much being thwarted that our intentions are getting lost. For example, what the shit is Twitter? I already have Facebook and I don’t need to see @foxyjuicy or #lolbitchez to know that this is stupiding our country. There is no future in 140 symbols or less communication. You know what Twitter has replaced?
Conversations. The joy of a conversation. People cannot open their mouths and speak without looking down at their phones. We’ve all become ADD for no good reason, NO good reason. Is business getting done faster? Are we all getting more productive? It doesn’t feel like it. It feels like everything is slowing down to a crawl where our days start earlier because we’re all accessible. And then spend all day on machines instead of talking to people. Twitter never got anyone laid. It never progressed society or made anyone have a new thought. Its just a simplistic way of twisting society into a giant pit of stupidness.
Put away the fucking blackberry and talk to someone. A stranger. Strangers aren’t bad. Most of us are strangers, you know. It doesn’t hurt yourself one bit to be friendly going into an office building or hold the door for someone outside of a café. It won’t kill you to say you’re welcome when someone says thank you. You don’t know what you’re missing in life.
This weekend’s top movie was a good example of enjoying the little things. Woody Harrelson’s character Talahassee spends the whole movie looking for a Twinkie. That’s his simple pleasure he’s dying to find. It makes life worthwhile when you remember to stop and smell the rosaries.
Your Reluctant Party Host, removing the bitch mask and signing off.
This burst of angry energy of mine may stem from the fact that it’s so hard to connect with people anymore, but I think the root of it is that everyone is so busy being preoccupied about being preoccupied.
For example, automatic toilets piss me off. They flush before I have time to admire or be repulsed by my shit. You’re going to flush before I can even finish wiping? Really? Where’s the joy in being able to marvel at last night’s dinner? A simple example, yes. Not a general one everyone would understand.
It’s almost like TV. Yes, TV has been ruined. It used to be a joy, once I got Tivo, to be able to watch a show and fly past the commercials. As people realized what Tivo was…networks adapted. You can’t watch Top Chef without it brought to you by some commercial venture. You can’t watch the Biggest Loser without being goaded into buying some new product. And ESPN can fuck me with a Microplane zester for all of the scrolling over and over and over my precious 1980’s wrestling programs that I want to see in their videotaped glory.
Technology, as we know it, is fucking us. It’s not fucking us fast and hard or slowly with a lil Zapp and Roger in the background making us feel all special and shit. Technology is boffing us like a drunk kid on on prom night, happily taking away from us what we once held dear: our time, energy and money.
I’m not a luddite by any stretch of the imagination. I just know that there’s so much being thwarted that our intentions are getting lost. For example, what the shit is Twitter? I already have Facebook and I don’t need to see @foxyjuicy or #lolbitchez to know that this is stupiding our country. There is no future in 140 symbols or less communication. You know what Twitter has replaced?
Conversations. The joy of a conversation. People cannot open their mouths and speak without looking down at their phones. We’ve all become ADD for no good reason, NO good reason. Is business getting done faster? Are we all getting more productive? It doesn’t feel like it. It feels like everything is slowing down to a crawl where our days start earlier because we’re all accessible. And then spend all day on machines instead of talking to people. Twitter never got anyone laid. It never progressed society or made anyone have a new thought. Its just a simplistic way of twisting society into a giant pit of stupidness.
Put away the fucking blackberry and talk to someone. A stranger. Strangers aren’t bad. Most of us are strangers, you know. It doesn’t hurt yourself one bit to be friendly going into an office building or hold the door for someone outside of a café. It won’t kill you to say you’re welcome when someone says thank you. You don’t know what you’re missing in life.
This weekend’s top movie was a good example of enjoying the little things. Woody Harrelson’s character Talahassee spends the whole movie looking for a Twinkie. That’s his simple pleasure he’s dying to find. It makes life worthwhile when you remember to stop and smell the rosaries.
Your Reluctant Party Host, removing the bitch mask and signing off.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Just reach for it!
Good evening chumps and lesbians,
I’m sitting here ready to watch that episode of Letterman from yesterday where he convinces us that its ok that he shagged some staffer and then nearly got blackmailed. Um dude, you got caught and nearly got in a lot of trouble. Be grateful Captain Smartypants. We always knew you were bad news but still liked you anyway.
So I just came back from dinner with my platonic wife. Yeah, that’s what she probably is cuz I cant explain it. Here I am, some guy. Nice guy, good looking guy. I make friends with nice looking people. That are secretly or publicly as sick as I am. Fuck me raw with a microplane zester.
We go to the sex store known as the Pleasure Chest, one of Los Angeles’ most exciting/better sex shops. They got everything. Penis pumps, fuck chairs, paddles with skull faces on em. Even an electricity/rape kit thing for the kinkier (read: pathetic) people to mess with each other. Wow.
I’m walking aisle to aisle and there’s a girl. She’s got to be about 5’1. And close to 400 lbs. We are talking like, mountain shaped. And she’s standing there, staring at the vibrators. And I kinda was looking at some and then moved to the bongs and then went back to the section with the dvds of classic pornos and then looking at the whips and then I went back and there’s this little mountain, staring up at the vibrators. Is that what its like for all of us? Are we all just little short fat mountain people, looking up at the vibrators, wondering what it’d be like to actually get one?
Today I got yelled at for an hour and a half. My response is to reach for the pills. Problem: I have none. Call the pharmacy because I know I phoned them in. Erm…uh…they didn’t. Checked the other pharmacy. Errm, nuh-uh girlfriend. Jesus Hairy Christopher, what does a dude gotta do to get his xanny refilled?
I was pissed at first but then I realized that it’s a crutch. And I also started analyzing my day and week. What the hell isn’t a crutch? My life’s a crutch. My job, my clothes. My pathetic attempts at self-satisfaction in the shower. It’s like I’m a giant vat of fondue sitting there, waiting for a fire to be lit under me. I’m a mountain who doesn’t want to reach for that vibrator.
I feel like that’s what it’s all about. Once I have one area with some stability (read: female companion) I suddenly lose all grasp on others.
I look forward to hearing the rest of this story David Letterman’s telling about sleeping with his staff. It makes me feel like the vibrator of life is within reach if even he is fallable.
I’m sitting here ready to watch that episode of Letterman from yesterday where he convinces us that its ok that he shagged some staffer and then nearly got blackmailed. Um dude, you got caught and nearly got in a lot of trouble. Be grateful Captain Smartypants. We always knew you were bad news but still liked you anyway.
So I just came back from dinner with my platonic wife. Yeah, that’s what she probably is cuz I cant explain it. Here I am, some guy. Nice guy, good looking guy. I make friends with nice looking people. That are secretly or publicly as sick as I am. Fuck me raw with a microplane zester.
We go to the sex store known as the Pleasure Chest, one of Los Angeles’ most exciting/better sex shops. They got everything. Penis pumps, fuck chairs, paddles with skull faces on em. Even an electricity/rape kit thing for the kinkier (read: pathetic) people to mess with each other. Wow.
I’m walking aisle to aisle and there’s a girl. She’s got to be about 5’1. And close to 400 lbs. We are talking like, mountain shaped. And she’s standing there, staring at the vibrators. And I kinda was looking at some and then moved to the bongs and then went back to the section with the dvds of classic pornos and then looking at the whips and then I went back and there’s this little mountain, staring up at the vibrators. Is that what its like for all of us? Are we all just little short fat mountain people, looking up at the vibrators, wondering what it’d be like to actually get one?
Today I got yelled at for an hour and a half. My response is to reach for the pills. Problem: I have none. Call the pharmacy because I know I phoned them in. Erm…uh…they didn’t. Checked the other pharmacy. Errm, nuh-uh girlfriend. Jesus Hairy Christopher, what does a dude gotta do to get his xanny refilled?
I was pissed at first but then I realized that it’s a crutch. And I also started analyzing my day and week. What the hell isn’t a crutch? My life’s a crutch. My job, my clothes. My pathetic attempts at self-satisfaction in the shower. It’s like I’m a giant vat of fondue sitting there, waiting for a fire to be lit under me. I’m a mountain who doesn’t want to reach for that vibrator.
I feel like that’s what it’s all about. Once I have one area with some stability (read: female companion) I suddenly lose all grasp on others.
I look forward to hearing the rest of this story David Letterman’s telling about sleeping with his staff. It makes me feel like the vibrator of life is within reach if even he is fallable.
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