Bleeding Is Not Good

If Autumn is called Fall, shouldn’t Spring be called Rise?

One sound that irritates me is the sound of someone with long fingernails typing. Clip, clop, clip, clop. Makes me want to take a fingernail clipper to their fingernails or a buzz saw to their wrists. It sounds like a team of tiny unicorns and horses prancing up and down a keyboard. I’m going to invent typing gloves in 2014.

There is a restaurant nearby called the Twin Dragon. Why is it called this? Where’s the other dragon? There’s no point of calling one dragon a twin when you only show one dragon.

Here’s a point that find myself mentioning a lot. Angelenos tend to be panicky and alarmist. When it rains, they act like it’s snow. If it ever snowed here, they’d probably act like the snowflakes were the fireballs from Super Mario Bros.

It is an unwritten rule that you must possess abysmal penmanship if you desire to compose a ransom note. Or be a physician…

And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.  —Friedrich Nietzsche

And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music. But if you think about it, that statement means that Nietzsche was one of those who heard the music, meaning he would probably be dancing, meaning he’d probably be classified as insane, which means this famous quote comes from a dancing insane man.  —Me

The term “end result” is pretty redundant.

“I hate your guts.” Why do we hate guts? What is it about someone’s innards that’s so revolting to us, especially those of us who have never seen someone’s guts? I mean, everybody’s got guts, so to speak. Do gastroenterologists say this to their patients they dislike? What is it about someone’s guts that you would hate? The smell? The sight? The texture? Regardless, if you’ve never been in the company of guts and innards, then your rationale and reason(s) for hating them are unsubstantiated and groundless.

I got a ticket for not paying a toll at a toll booth that didn’t work. That’s real highway robbery.

Sometimes I make up random stuff in my head and I’ll tell someone about it. They often challenge me on the authenticity of these random concepts. More times than not, after some research, that “imaginary” concept will prove to indeed be true. Even when I make up something completely fictional, I’m right. At times.

“Since the beginning of time, it’s still true that bleeding is not good.” –My friend during Thanksgiving dinner

Let’s say you’re cleaning around the house and want a little white noise in the background. If you turn on the TV to a black channel, like BET, TV One, or Centric, is it still white noise?

One morning at Coffee Bean in DTLA, the barista asked this lady how she wanted her sandwich prepared. This lady, who was wearing a khaki trench coat…first of all, let me tell you Rule #1 of Crazies 101. Anyone wearing a trench coat in a climate, geographical region, or occupation that does not call for trench coat wearing is, by all intents and purposes, nutball crazy. That’s just how it is. So this lady slowly turns around it a motion and speed that can only be described and characterized as “serial killer-esque” and wails out, “Like I said before…not toasted!” She then turns back around and continues to count the tiles on the floor. Minutes later, the now shell-shocked barista tries to get the attention of the trench coat lady. For whatever reason, she doesn’t respond. He finally says, “Miss, miss! Your order is ready.” Again, she spins around with the look that could scare off a horny moose in a moose brothel during mating season. She takes the longest and deepest inhale known to man and bellows out with more gravitas in her voice than a James Earl Jones/Morgan Freeman/Barry White R&B trio, “THAT’S MRS.! M! R! S! THANK YOU VERY MUCH!” She snatches her order from the barista’s sweaty hand and storms out of the coffee shop, mumbling something that sounded remotely like Aramaic and Klingon. Crazy and caffeinated. Last I heard, she vowed revenge on the all the pigeons in the city and was actively trying to take a shit on each one of them in retaliation.

There is a company called Gerber Moving and Storage. Its slogan is “Let Gerber Moving Baby Your Furniture.” Does anyone else see a potential lawsuit here?

Some dog trainers and “experts” are shockingly cocky to me. I watched one on TV talk about how she rescued and changed this dog’s life. Pfft. Gimme a break. That dog changed HER life. She’s the one talking about the dog. The dog ain’t talking about her!

A TSA agent looked at my passport at the security checkpoint. She took one look at my full name and said, “Mmmph. I’m not even gonna try to say that. You have a safe flight, baby.”

Little kids sneezing and coughing at airports are basically little “Outbreak” monkeys.

Another thing about little ones in airports. Parents should not give their small children little roller bags. See, I understand. I get it. Little Matt and Jenny want to be like Mommy and Daddy and have big boy luggage. So the adults give them mini roller bags that their kids commence to drop, drag, throw around, kick, punch, swing around, misplace, cry over, cry about, jump on, latch onto, fall down on, zip up themselves inside, scream at, slobber on, sit on, spill drinks on, spill food on, spit food on, head butt, and other obnoxious acts. All of this means that the rest of us are going to be waiting another half hour in line while Little Matt cusses out Mommy because he doesn’t want to put his bag through the conveyor belt to get x-rayed, but rather escort his bag through the metal detector/x-ray that humans go through. Thanks, kid. You’re really putting a damper on my travel plans. You’re the hemmorhoids of the human race. You may be small and delicate, but you’re still a pain in our collective ass. Hey, parents!  Your kids don’t have much luggage anyway.  Why don’t you just dump their crap into your big ass bag?  Thanks again, kid. I just missed boarding my flight. Now I have to wait to catch the next flight, the one that has 5 stops, no food, and a 72-hour layover in XNA, or Northwest Arkansas Regional Airport for those who don’t know. Thanks thrice, kid. I will end you.

Happy New Year!