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Monthly Archives: January 2013

Alice followed the rabbit down the hole, slut.

Masturbation is a sin.

Just thought I would remind everyone.

What brought this up?

Well, I am in the Coffee Bean for starters.

There is a reason for this.

For those that don’t know, the Coffee Bean is like the retirement home of coffee houses.

When a twenty year old walks thru the front door, the average age is still above retirement age.

There are never less than 3 oxygen tanks scattered among the patrons.

Are you picking up what I’m putting down here?

Not long after leaving the underground parking bunker I have to park in, I got behind two old women, lets call them Thelma and Louise.

Why Thelma and Louise?

You aren’t going to like the answer.

Because they are busybody annoying bitches that basically just take up space.

I have issues with that self indulgent piece of shit they called a movie.

Back to the girls.

I got stuck behind them, and while I usually pass up people on the sidewalk due to the fact that I walk faster than everyone else, (its a short guy thing.) I kept getting blocked by opposing foot traffic.

So be it.

I settle in behind them as they saunter down the road and stop trying to pass.

We were 20 feet from the Coffee Bean, I was just beginning to get a whiff of Ben Gay, when Thelma said this:

“I bought my daughter in law a rabbit and fresh batteries.”

And then she laughed.

Now, there are some of you who are wondering why that is a big deal.

Its because of masturbation.

There is a “marital aid” (Also known as a dildo) called the Rabbit, and that is EXACTLY where my mind went when Thelma said that.

(The story of why I know this is a long one, and involves a lady friend that got into the Rabbit so severely that she “Wore a hole in herself.” Direct quote.)

And it turns out I was not wrong.

Everyone always asks if you “Went dirty” on something.

I maintain that I live dirty and “Go clean” on rare occassion.

Anywho Thelma and Louise turned to go into Coffee Bean, so I did too.

There is a certain whore-like quality to my snooping.

It was in line that Thelma joined me in Dirtyville.

“It is hands down the best little device I have ever had!” She gushed. (Not dirty)
“Is it that one with the little pointy thing?” Louise made this kind of creepy gesture with her index finger.
“Just like a rabbit’s nose!” (Ok, that was dirty. And, if I understand the device correctly, incorrect.)

At this point, the smell of Ben Gay and adult diapers began to make me feel light headed, so I left.

Besides, I had gotten what I came for.

Its 12 hours later and I am still getting the occasional whiff of Ben Gay.

And for the record, while I was in the Coffee Bean, I counted the following:
3 walkers
2 oxygen tanks
2 little dogs
1 old guy, talking to himself
12 people with grey hair.
7 sets of bifocals
6 people that appeared under the age of 50 (Including 3 staff.

 
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Posted by on January 31, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Positive is great, but negative can keep you warm at night.

The negativity at times is overwhelming.

Comment from a friend.

Typically, I blow that kind of shit off, but this is one of those friends that I have known for so damned long that I have a solid baseline that tells me they are not an ignorant troll.

And they’re right.

I do go negative and cynical immediately, its part of my process of analysis.

How do you change that?

I was talking to a friend once who had gone thru a shitty divorce.

Me too, haven’t we all?

And I made the comment that one of the shitty things about relationships, good or bad, is that you take baggage with you after.

And they made a cutesy comment.

“What if you just left those bags at the curb?”

That is just so fucking cute, I may shit myself.

Its also naive.

I will stop there, mainly because I could drain half the negative words out of a thesaurus for the next 500 words and not accomplish anything more than piss off a friend.

Baggage is who we are.

So be it.

If we didn’t carry a little bit of every experience we have ever had with us, we would never change or become individuals.

Without change, we are fucked.

That being said, I am tired of being a snarky piece of shit.

For today at least.

So, here are 3 things that I find positive.

1. Writing. I have been writing since I was little. For the last 5 years, I have been writing like a man possessed. 3 fiction novels, 400 blog posts, and now part of the writing team for a weekly comedy show in Hollywood. My hope is to make some sort of a living writing.

2. Faith. I was raised Catholic and found myself struggling with that in my 20’s. I find myself having come to a peace and understanding with my personal faith now. And, no, its none of your business.

3. Comfort. I spent a long time striving to avoid uncomfortable situations. It was not the best thing. It was the safe thing. Done with that. I am hanging my ass out there a hell of a lot more now and I am learning to be ok with that.

And, in an effort to present a fair and unbiased view, here are 3 things I find negative.

1. Morons. I just this morning had a conversation about someone that I have always maintain is an idiot. Others have defended this person, but I am increasingly convinced they are like a monkey, clever enough to peel the banana and do little tricks, but certainly not intelligent.

2. Politics. You might think this is still talking about Morons. Its like that old adage, all Cretans are liars, but not all liars are from Crete. However, some are in the White house as we speak.

3. Crusades. One of the most negative things you run into these days is the Crusader. The Crusader is on a mission to save something. Dogs, the environment, dolphins, baseball…etc. The worst part about the Crusader is that they have no other presentation for their ideas other than to talk down. They don’t ask you your opinion, they simply accuse you of being wrong. Its annoying, rude and really unpleasant.

Now that thats out of the way, let me sum up this little semi rant with this.

There is a lot of good in the world, enjoy yourselves, try not to hurt each other, and for God’s sake, try to focus on something positive instead of wallowing in a “I’ve gotta save something” martyr cocoon.

That’s it, have a great day.

 
1 Comment

Posted by on January 29, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Good morning, we’re perfect

Time for a retro quote.

My teeth itch.

That is my phrase for extreme irritation, like a piece of mental grit that gets in there like an oyster and will eventually become a pearl.

Let me set the scene.

They are about 40.

But a well kept, healthclub/pilates 40.

They are dressed in sweats and hoodies, but practically new ones and not cheap ones at that.

The teeth are expensive and just a shade too bright, the kind of teeth you expect to glow in the dark.

She is not beautiful, but she does exude that well monied, Euro plain-ness that comes across as hot.

I have seen this couple in here several times and even sat with them at the big table when there was nothing else available.

I have listened to their conversations not once, not twice, but several times.

And it is always about the same thing.

Shit they own.

The first time I saw them, they were giggling like school kids, talking about the Mercedes they were picking up later that day.

2 brand new S-class, matching cars like bookends.

That  alone is enough to hate them.

(I have a long standing issue with Mercedes. Possibly the finest cars on the planet, but I can’t quit calling them Euro-trash. There is a story there.)

The second time I ran into them, they were discussing putting the house on the market.

His comment? “You would think that on the Strand in Manhattan Beach would be worth more than 6.9.”

It finally hit me that he meant millions.

And that is not the most shocking statement of that whole discussion.

In the end, they came to the conclusion that they should hang onto the Strand house, and just buy another one.

Then they can sell the Strand house once the economy recovers.

But, and this is the main reason I hate them.

They are dumb.

I don’t hate them for being the elitist shitheads they are, I merely find that really annoying.

I hate the ignorance in the following discussion.

They were talking about the coming inauguration, when Mr. Elitist Shithead gave this opinion.

“I am still reeling from the whole tax hike on high end incomes. I mean, I voted for him twice and them he springs this shit on me? What the hell?”

Where do I start?

I do my best not to go political here, fail at it on occasion, but I have made some effort.

But the “Springs this shit on me?” comment forced my hand.

First of all, the POTUS didn’t “Spring” anything on you here, dumbass, this was mentioned in his first campaign.

Remember Joe the plumber?

That was all about this.

Over the course of the next half hour, I listened to these two talk about their disappointment with the POTUS and how
he has somewhat recently decided to do all of this unpleasant stuff.

And none of the things they mentioned was anything that was not announced during the first election campaign.

Regardless of what party you belong to, you have a tendency to look down on people from the other side?

But these people really are worthy of the “Ignorant” title.

Winner winner, chicken dinner. (I still love that phrase.)

 
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Posted by on January 24, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Not enough hours in the goddam day

There is something to be said for having just too much shit to do in the day.

Perfect example, Friday.

Awaken, shower, breakfast, laundry, blog, drive to work, go to Starbucks, blog, work, work on Writing project at lunch, work, do inventory, ship product, dinner, travel to Hollywood, writers meeting, drinks with writers after, travel home, write skits, game for a bit, watch 3 episodes of a show I am watching on netflix, masturbate, write some actual fiction, sleep.

Do you see what I’m getting at?

What I need is a sugar momma thats into short chubby older Irish guys.

Someone to pay the bills and expect sexual favors in return.

The only people groaning right now are the ladies.

The guys are fine with this and the only reason they are not cheering is because the wife will want to know why.

And thats how arguments happen.

And we, guys that is, are bad at the arguing part.

Mainly because once we get pissed, our mouth runs on its own.

And if you have never accidentally said “Because your mother is a dumb bitch.” before you could stop it, you have no clue what I mean.

Women have their own version of this, but thy utter the crazy shit that makes you suicidal.

Enough said.

Every now and then, I stop and look at where the blog has gone from where I started.

My goal is not to start any arguments, so lets change the subject.

Mainly because the main event has arrived.

In this corner, weighing in at a crisp 320lbs dripping wet, is the bald old guy who is scowling at the barrista.

And in the other corner, weighing in at a buck o 5, sporting blue hair and a confused look, is his wife.

And this dude is ready to rumble.

His first act that brought him to my attention was his loud   barritone guffaw at the cost of a Venti House Drip.

Two dollars is a lot of cheddar to some.

His second outburst was when his wife ordered a latte.

I was positive I was going to witness the man shit himself and have a heart attack.

His wife managed to get him under control with a Gracie Allen move that even Gracie would have been proud of.

She farted, loudly.

And blamed it on him.

I swear to you, had I not been standing right behind them in line, I would have missed it.

She handed the cashier a $10 bll and let loose.

Her husbands head spun to look, that was what tipped me off.

She spun on him and said, loudly, “Arnold! How could you?”

Her voice was shocked and pained.

It was awsome.

Arnold was fucked, with no recourse and he knew it.

He sputtered for a few seconds and then just moved down to the pick up counter, muttering to himself.

And she followed as if nothing happened.

The only way this could have been worse would have been if she had farted into her cupped hand, then slapped him in the mouth, shouting “CUP A CHEESE!”

Shades of being twelve again.

I was at a family BBQ recently, when I went out to the patio to roll the sausages and flip some burgers.

A relative was out there with his son and a cousin.

The kids are about 15 or so.

“Mind if I join you, guys?” I am social and friendly around my own blood.

“Only if your not a fag.”

And that stopped me short. I live in the same pc would we all do, so the crudity of it caught me off gaurd.

And then I remembered the ages involved.

I looked at dad.

“Is that the age we’re at?”

He nodded and smiled at me.

I laughed.

I have a son, and I remember that age.

Not something that you encourage, but funny during that period.

I wish I had thought to “CUP A CHEESE someone right then.

This was a crowd that would have truly appreciated it.

And you gotta play to the audience in front of you.

 
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Posted by on January 22, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

My lack of super powers.

I would like to apologize for my lack of super powers.

It started this morning, as I was walking towards Starbucks.

There is construction going on up the block and they have the narrow corridor construction scaffolding covering the sidewalk and forcing you to cautiously shoulder past each other as you pass.

I am not a psychic.

Sadly, that is not one of my powers.

So when the business lady with the phone glued to her ear moved to the right, straight into my path, and I didn’t slam myself to the left immediately and let your pampered elitist ass go by?

For this I apologize.

Continuing.

Hours later, after work, I was walking up the street, making my daily trek up the ridiculously steep hill to my car, parked in the underground bunker parking lot.

I can’t fly.

Unfortunately, that is not one of the powers bestowed upon me by the almighty.

So, when I was walking in the crosswalk across a 25mph max street and the arrogant dumb fuck in the shiny black SUV was cruising along at about 40mph, I was unable to fly out of the way.

My fault.

You were definitely in the right to flip me off and gun your engine while I got out of the way.

My last and final regret for the lack of super human powers comes from my visit to the local post office.

I cannot lift my car with my mind and fling it to the side.

So, when the aged, half blind, miniature geriatric driving the vintage Oldsmobuick just barely missed scrapping the parking safety pole and pulled it right in front of where my car was pulling in on the FAR RIGHT for the driveway, I could not fix the situation by throwing my car to the side.

I cannot read thoughts, so the long 15 seconds that we sat staring at me while she tried to find reverse and cast milky dagger eyes at me, I was unable to fathom your muddled thoughts.

Lastly, I did not have the power that Christopher Reeves had in the first hideous Superman movie, of flying against the flow of the Earth’s rotation and reversing time.

(Against all laws of physics, I mean, seriously? The poles should have reversed and massive death and earthquakes. I will let it go now.)

Anyway, geek rant aside, I could not turn back time and get the hell out of your way.

Sorry about that.

That day, long ago, when I was struck by lightening, bit by that radioactive spider, and found that magic ring, I was given a choice of powers.

And sadly, I chose a sarcastic wit and a vicious sense of humor.

However, I try to use my powers for good.

Or at least my own amusement.

So its all good.

 
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Posted by on January 17, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Sponge Bob

My shorts are uncomfortable.

There is a story here, bear with me.

I hate doing laundry.

I do my laundry, don’t get me wrong.

Cleanliness is important.

I just don’t like doing it.

And this is where Sponge Bob comes in.

10 years ago, for Father’s Day, one of my kids gave me a pair of Sponge Bob Square Pants boxer shorts.

They are gaudy, loud, and totally unsightly.

They also itch, so I am never thrilled to be wearing them.

I have them on now.

I didn’t do my laundry.

Sponge Bob usually lives at the bottom of the underwear drawer.

And I am almost always good at making sure there is other clean underwear on top of him, hiding him, if you will.

And this morning?

Sponge Bob was looking up at me.

Crap.

So I am writing while my spin cycle is going on.

And there it is.

However, for as long as I have hated doing laundry, laundry at least, has gotten a little easier.

Enter the detergent pod.

Detergent and fabric softener in one easy, throw it in and close the lid.

And the coffee is ridiculously hot.

The coffee maker began scalding the coffee about a month ago.

It has an issue that most people would view as broken, and replace it.

I love it.

I like to think I am at my best when I am nursing a raw spot on my tongue.

Don’t judge, its mean.

Besides, as far as weird vices go, this is pretty vanilla.

Search the internet for less than 5 minutes on any given day and you will find a terrifying array of personal issues that really are freakish in nature.

Once again, I am a freaking saint in comparison.

Its like watching Jerry Springer and feeling better about yourself because you are not even close to those freaks on the screen.

Unless of course you are a secret Transexual and your partner of 10 years doesn’t know, then your shit out of luck.

That one is not made up, it was just on.

The Jerry Springer show is like eating at Denny’s at 3am.

You never planned on it, but here you are.

Kind of a suddenly erupting “Live in the moment”, type thing.

The point of this post is not Jerry Springer.

He is just a part of the story, like the troll under the bridge, threatening to eat you for some vague reason.

He is just an element of this cautionary tale of inner happiness.

(I have laughed myself silly for the last 5 minutes over that last line. If you don’t get it, you might be a little slow, and thats ok, we all love you.)

 
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Posted by on January 15, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

On the boulevard.

These are hard times, times for keeping your head down, avoiding the notice of the dark cloud of black karma that hovers over us at all times, reaching down to strike without warning.

Ok, so I got nothing to go with that, its just an angst filled emo line that came to me while I was driving.

Moving on.

I have been watching Glee on Netflix.

I am not proud of that, but it is what it is.

A friend of mine is obsessed with it and has harassed me nonstop for the last few years.

So I watched the first few episodes.

I like it.

For the record, that is not like coming out of the closet or anything like that, its just a show.

I am writing this blog at 1:30am, 3.5 hours from now it will post on the site.

Why am I up so late writing?

Because I have the time management skills of a 5 year old, combined with a Catholic/Irish guilt driven work ethic that gives me insomnia and the drive to finish this.

I would love to go to bed, but the bitch fest of emails I get when the blog is late is no fun.

And I do love fun.

I was in Hollywood earlier tonight.

I had a thing starting at 7 but got there really early, early enough to walk up Hollywood Blvd to Starbucks for a cup of coffee.

“My foots asleep.”

I looked at the little homeless woman who said that.

Under 5 feet, not over a hundred pounds, more of the hummingbird class of homeless.

And she was looking at me.

I have no idea why she would want me to know that her foot is asleep, but you play the cards you are dealt.

“No its not.” When in doubt, disagree, it gets things going.

“Its been asleep all day.” She glared at me, angry that I would dispute her claim.

“Maybe its dead.”

Ok, in retrospect, that was the wrong thing to say.

If you have never had an 80 pound enraged homeless woman come at you like a tornado made of a few teeth, broken fingernails and the scent of BO, but the adrenaline rush is stunning.

Messing with the homeless is sometimes bad mojo, I have accepted that.

And while it doesn’t make me a nice person, I am at peace with it in a shallow way.

A half block later, I slowed to a walk, the stamina of todays homeless is sorely lacking.

Ah coffee.

This is one of my rare forays into night coffee.

I am not sure its a good thing and it might explain why I am still awake at 1:30am.

In a gesture of goodwill bordering on being a pussy, I walked back on the other side of the street.

Best not to push it.

And I struck oil on this side of the street.

The guy looks like a total hippy.

But he sings like a bird.

His guitar playing is impeccable.

I stood mesmerized for a good five minutes then put a buck in his open guitar case.

And then I walked away, down the block.

Awesome.

 
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Posted by on January 10, 2013 in Uncategorized