Most of the time when you hear the phrase “the shit hits the fan” it brings to mind the visceral imagery of feces splattering all over the ceiling, wall, and anything else in the room. I’d like to propose an image that is just as nasty and even more mystifying than the aforementioned visual. My concern and question is how exactly does the manure manage to establish an upward projection towards the fan in the first place?

Speaking of confusing English phrases, what about “clean as a whistle”? Let me tell you. I had a coach in high school who smoked cigarettes, constantly masticated chewing tobacco, coughed up endless phlegm, and cursed like a sailor. I promise you, calling his whistle clean would be the last adjective anyone would use to describe it.

And what’s the deal with the phrase “screwed the pooch”? What’s the origin of this? Who came up with this? What kind of act could some human being possibly have done that was so erroneous, so revolting, so ridiculously inappropriate that it was seen on the same level as fucking a dog? You may as well be saying, “Hey George, you really committed bestiality on this one, huh?” The hell is going on with English?!

There’s a strip club just in front of one of my bus stops. While I’m standing there waiting for the bus, to many people, especially tourists, it looks like I’m a bouncer. One day, I’m going to use this miscalculation to my advantage. I just haven’t figured out how yet.

I’m thoroughly convinced that the operation of the 212 bus is completely dependent on a daily, early morning dice game between some of the bus drivers. Sometimes that bus runs up to an hour late. The rest of the time it doesn’t run at all.

If you’re losing about 25% of your hair and you go to the barber occasionally, tell your barber to give you 25% off the price since nature has already done 25% of the work for him.

Doves are pigeons and pigeons are doves. They are the same bird. Look it up. The symbol of peace and harmony is also known, in some sophisticated social circles, as “a fucking rat with wings.”

Potluck. What so lucky about getting eating some random food that your coworker who can’t even boil eggs made at 2 AM that morning before lunchtime when everyone else in your office brings out their last-minute, last-ditch efforts to fake like they put in a Food Network-level of culinary expertise into their reheated, re-fried attempts at chorizo quesadillas, mole poblano, and chicharonnes?

The outline of LA County looks like the head of the character Guile from the video game Street Fighter.

When crossing a street, if the pedestrian walk signal is 10 seconds or less, then I usually won’t cross. But for some reason, if it’s at 11 seconds, I haul ass.

Saw a Metro/MetroLink ad on the bus with the following headline: Most People Hit by Trains Never See Them. No shit.

The public transportation system in LA is a wellspring of gushing, tidal confusion. The elevators are always broken. Half the time, the escalators are shut down and being serviced. One time they had the stairs roped off with yellow caution tape. How are the stairs broken?!

I went into a public bathroom once and noticed that steam was coming up from one of the urinals. I turned right around and walked out.

Super group that needs to come into fruition:
Childish Gambino/Donald Glover, Bruno Mars, Kendrick Lamar, Anderson .Paak, and Miguel.
I’ve already bought my tickets to the concert.

The term “food coma” needs to be revised and reevaluated because sometimes people do wake up from comas. I still haven’t waken up from that huge carby burrito I had for lunch 3 weeks ago.

I can understand getting your teeth whitened. However, there is a such thing as getting your teeth “too white.” And “too big.” If I look at you and feel sorry for what I imagine is some toothless wild mustang running free in the plains of Wyoming, then you’ve gone too far.

There should be a Green Book for brunch spots for women. On second thought, they don’t need a Green Book. I haven’t met a woman yet who doesn’t love brunching with her girls. Women basically own Sunday brunch. And there’s not a damn thing any man can do about it. Men think they own Sunday with NFL games and such. Churchgoers think that religious services own Sunday. Nope. Women do. It’s their world on Sunday, and the rest of us are just paying rent.

Dying your hair blue is not a good idea. In fact, it’s a terrible idea. It never looks right. I’ve seen attempt after attempt, and they all look like one of these three things:

1. a half-sucked Blow Pop that someone dropped in the dirt
2. a deep hematoma or thigh bruise someone got from falling off Mount Everest, and then rolled around in dirt
3. an elderly, wrinkly Smurf that pulled a Sammy Sosa, got his skin bleached by a back alley, street dermatologist, and then rolled around in dirt

One time at a previous job, most of my coworkers had glossy photos of their children at their desks and work areas. They would congregate in the kitchen and hallways and talk about their kids’ latest accomplishments and deeds ad nauseam. They’d semi-harass and bug me with inquires like, “Do you have any kids? How come you don’t have any kids? Don’t you want children? You don’t know what you’re missing? Until you’re a parent, you’ll never understand.” Annoyed, I was. One morning they came into work, and to their horror, I had photos of kids at my desk. Their kids.

I heard that the it takes 30 minutes for the average mumble rapper to produce a trap song. That’s 60 minutes too long.

I just read that autonomous cars are more likely to hit people with darker hues than people with lighter hues. Even the robots are racist. This is crazy. I’m going to design a hoodie to help save the lives of POCs, people of color or pedestrians of color. When you pull the hoodie over your head, it’ll have some white person’s face on both sides. That way, the self-driving car’s AI will slow down because it thinks you’re worth saving. I’ll market the sweatshirt as The White Hood. Oh, wait…

An angel investor (also known as a business angel, informal investor, angel funder, private investor, or seed investor) is an affluent individual who provides capital for a business start-up, usually in exchange for convertible debt or ownership equity. A devil investor is someone who offers to lend you money but then wants to borrow money from you before given you money. You may know the latter as your Uncle Mike.

Going back to English phrases, next up: party pooper. Why, America? Is someone taking a shit at a party somewhere? Yes, that would definitely bring the party mood down.

Cardassians, a race of beings featured in the Star Trek canon, are described as being “tall, long-necked, humanoid in appearance, marked by several bony protrusions and ridges: one from the shoulder to under the ears, whose bottom lobes in turn are more pronounced forward to the jawline, and from above the eyes and back over the head to the rear base of the skull, showing through hair. Other ridges run from the nose line to the forehead, and along the chin to define a sharp jawline. Their skin type and hair vary from light purple to a greenish hue and near black. Predatory in large numbers, more cautious alone and instinctively searching out a dominant position in any social setting.” As are Kardashians.

I’m heavier than I look. I’ve finally figured out my life’s purpose. I’m God’s paperweight. Holding down this planet and keeping it in its proper orbit since my birth.

Guys with black and gray hair are said to have a “salt and pepper look.” What do we call redhead guys with a little gray? Salt and cayenne pepper?

Pencils down.