Its a new year.
That is not necessarily a good thing, by the way.
January 1st is never the greatest of days for those who partied the night before.
Hangovers are a bitch.
And then there is that whole “Gotta remember to write “2014” on everything.
I usually end up throwing away about a dozen checks every January and February like clockwork.
I try, but it is the same every year.
Like a numerical form of Alzheimer’s, I will write the wrong date in a daze.
And then tear it up.
Luckily, the bank, like all good crack dealers, will gladly facilitate my getting more checks.
I got a 40 word text message from a friend of mine at a quarter to midnight, new years eve.
If you remove the F-word, there were only 15 words in the text.
Ah, the joys of having severely drunk friends on the one night of the year I refuse to drink.
And not because I have some sort of moral objection.
But, as we all know, I view others as toys, to be screwed with as the mood hits me.
I have a friend that claims its a sociopath’s view of things.
Lets not get ahead of ourselves.
I am writing this on Friday, 2 days after New Years.
The weather is going to be in the mid 70’s today.
Winter, in Southern California.
Michigan state has been in town for the Rose Bowl for the last few days.
And now, they are going back to their snowy hinterlands.
Good for them, they have my condolences.
They are more that welcome to the shitty land they live in.
There is something seriously wrong with anyone who live in a place so cold you are literally afraid to go outside.
People die there every winter.
However, I am a product of growing up in Southern California.
Its always fairly nice here.
That might explain why the rents are what they are.
What are you gonna do?
I have gotten email about my arrogance about Southern California.
I find that fascinating that with all thats going on in the world, anyone would give a crap about my opinion about anything.
Maybe my comments about Egypt were a bit much, I am willing to admit that.
“Even if they win their country, its still a shitty desert.”
A little harsh, even for me.
I have said worse, trust me.
My somewhat brutal witnessing of people behaving badly has gathered some pretty awesome comments that really hit on the high side of crude, rude and obscene on more than a few occasions.
So be it.
It may be an old saying and a tradition that you don’t shoot the messenger, but traditions are broken all the time.
And maybe the saying came about because too many messengers were getting killed.
And I get that.
There is a price for everything.
And if somebody is really looking for me to settle up over something rude, you know where to find me.
I am the short chubby guy sitting at the round table in the back of Starbucks.
Maybe all of them.
Watch your shit, cause you know I will.