This is a pic of the Grand Central Market in Downtown LA in the 1920s. Look at second guy from the left. Doesn’t he look like he just got caught stealing something?

Everyone has a dandruff friend, someone who constantly flakes out on them. Next time that happens, give them a bottle of Head and Shoulders and see if they get it.

Where did the term “sworn enemy” come from? Is there somewhere in the world where they’re swearing-in enemies? Hand up, and hand on the Bible? Like a presidential hater inauguration?

Whenever I hear the word bandwidth, I think about a marching band full of fat tuba players.

Saw a lady making a protein shake. So this prom queen or whatever has her food ingredients in the pitcher on the blender, and yet, asks her friend next to her, “Is this thing on?” If it were on, Miss South Carolina, that shake would be all in your face and the walls. Use your head for something more than a tiara rack.

How come wheelchair/medical supplies stores don’t have a parking lot of full handicap spots with 1 or 2 regular parking spots near the door?

Pet peeve #234: When someone comes on the bus all decked out in expensive clothes carrying designer bags and such yet holds up the bus for 15 minutes because he or she is paying their bus fare in nickels.

The CC function in work email can be one of the most cowardly, throwing-someone-under-the-bus, passive-aggressive ways of communication. Although it is useful when trying to spread information or looping in a relevant party, it’s usually the electronic equivalent of sucker-punching someone in the ear and then hiding behind their grandmother when they try to hit you back.

According to Kanye, we should all be listening to the kids, bro. This happened at the VMAs last weekend. I can actually get behind his now-infamous request. Because if Wu-Tang is for the children, and we’re supposed to listen to the kids, bro, then based on the transitive property of equality that I learned in algebra class, we should all listen to Wu-Tang.

I am a firm believer in the theory that food tastes better when someone else cooks it.

Has any astronaut moon-walked on the moon yet?

Have you ever seen your roommate mate in the room?  If so, what happened?  If not, why not?

Went to a Japanese fusion restaurant. Looked at the menu. It was all Japanese food. How is this fusion? What is it being fused with? Air?

Feet are nasty. I don’t touch anyone’s feet. If I have to scratch my foot, I rub it up against some tree bark.

Got hit on by a lesbian on the bus the other day. She said that I could make her switch teams. When she left the bus later, she yelled out to me, “Bye, cutie patootie!” Still got it!

A possum that’s awesome should be called pawesome. Ugh. Sorry. That was just pawful.

Some smokers are funny to me, especially when they’re smoking early in the morning. WTF? Didn’t you just brush your teeth?

http://gadgets.ndtv.com/mobiles/news/microsoft-study-finds-human-attention-span-has-dropped-to-just-8-seconds-693468
The researchers collected data from surveys of more than 2,000 Canadians over the age of 18.
Said that Canadians have an 8-second attention span.
Hell, the American data would come back as 3 seconds.

Ever seen someone who just always looks wet? Not sweaty, like myself. I’m talking about wet. Like fresh-out-of-the-pool wet. I have. Don’t touch them. Looking like a permanently honey-glazed human.

What does “under my belt” mean? This phrase is used when someone suggests that they have achieved or acquired a certain level of experience. But what’s really under your belt? Your gut, fool! So if you’re getting experience at eating any particular food, then that phrase has both a literal and figurative meaning. “I’m glad I’ve got some Moon Pie and deep-fried Oreos under my belt. That experience is really going to come in handy when I destroy the dessert table at my sister’s wedding reception.”

You know what I’m getting really good at? Opening a restroom door just as some dude’s trying to enter. I catch him at that exact moment when he shifts his body weight forward to lean against the door to push it open. But instead, I swing the door open, taking that momentum that he’s built up and using it against him as he comes flying into the bathroom. I don’t do it on purpose, but I’ve done that muvvafuvva about 4 times in a row in the last 3 days! I’m a bathroom door psychic. Lavatory Laboratory Nostradamus. The Palmist of the Potty. Toilet Paper Prophet. Sink Seer. Toilet Roll Tarot Reader. Washroom Wizard. Urinal Cake Clarivoyant. Bowel Movement Medium.

—
FRIEND: So what’s going on on your end?
ME: Well…what’s going on on my end is basically the stuff that comes out of one’s end…sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit.
—

It was so hot that when I tried to take my clothes out of the washer, they fought me back. Didn’t want to get into the dryer.

Upon dying, the human body can release gases and waste that remain within. So in essence, the last thing you may do is shit on the world.

My first vehicle: http://originalbigwheel.us/images/ChipsBW.jpg
Way better than my current vehicle: http://i.imgur.com/gkOWK76.jpg

Someone broke into my friend’s house and stole some stuff. He called the police to investigate. He told the cops that the carpenters that worked on his house recently may be the culprits. He pointed them over to a section of the house where their fingerprints were, and suggested that they may match prints from the burglary. The cops didn’t want to check the prints because they didn’t want to falsely accuse the carpenters. So essentially, the cops didn’t want to incriminate the criminals. Que?

Mascara brushes look like little toilet brushes.

—
People need to stop making personal and business calls at work, especially at their desks. They need to take their phones outside. The ones I know talk really loud and practically yell every word into the phone, like they’ve been raised in the woods or in a barn. They talk like it’s the first time anyone’s ever used a phone. Like they’re talking with Alexander Graham Bell on the very first phone call. “HEY, ALEX! THIS TELEPHONE THING REALLY WORKS! CAN YOU HEAR ME? THIS IS LEEK LEEK!”

—

A lot of white women can’t stand dark poultry meat. I’m telling you. I’ve been in line at different delis where someone will order a salad and will freak out when it’s time to select the meat. “Oh, no! Oh, my god! No legs or thighs. White chicken breast, please.” Calm down, ladies. The U.S. Department of Agriculture states that an ounce of boneless, skinless turkey breast has 46 calories and 1 gram of fat, while an ounce of boneless, skinless thigh contains about 50 calories and 2 grams of fat. The difference is miniscule. Miniscule like your waistline. Plus, dark meat has more iron, zinc, riboflavin, thiamine, and vitamins B6 and B12, yo. So relax and stop acting like eating dark poultry meat is the same as eating a whole birthday cake.

Yesterday, I was on a bus so slow that a pregnant woman had a baby on the bus…and then her baby grew up…and had her own baby.

Got on a Greyhound bus. 3-hour trip. 8 hours later, we finally got to our destination. Got off the bus, and the greyhound on the side was a turtle.

While grocery shopping recently, I saw some tissue with chamomile in it. Why is this a thing? Who needs chamomile for their ass? Is your ass that stressed out? You need your butt to fall sleep? If you drink chamomile tea and wipe your ass with chamomile tea-ssue, then you could fall asleep at both ends.

dollars to doughnuts

NORTH AMERICAN, informal
– used to emphasize one’s certainty.
Example: “I’d bet dollars to doughnuts he’s a medical student.”

Real-life example: “In the not-too distant future, I bet dollars to doughnuts that, in America, doughnuts will become like dollars and be used as currency in exchange of goods and services rendered.”

—–

From a Wikipedia entry:

“Asafoetida /æsəˈfɛtɨdə/ is the dried latex (gum oleoresin) exuded from the rhizome or tap root of several species of Ferula, a perennial herb that grows 1 to 1.5 m (3–5 ft) tall. The species is native to the deserts of Iran, mountains of Afghanistan, and is mainly cultivated in nearby India. As its name suggests, asafoetida has a fetid smell but in cooked dishes it delivers a smooth flavour reminiscent of leeks.

It is also known as asant, food of the gods, jowani badian, stinking gum, Devil’s dung, hing, ingu, kayam and ting.”
Umm….how can it be named “food of the gods” and “Devil’s dung” at the same time?

——

Moonshine is one of America’s great creations. It’s legendary and timely all at the same time. It goes by many names. A few are:

corn liquor
white lightning
sugar whiskey
skull cracker
popskull
bush whiskey
stump
stumphole
‘splo
ruckus juice
rotgut
catdaddy
nip joint
bathtub gin
mule kick
hillbilly pop
panther’s breath
tiger’s sweat
sweet spirits of cats a-fighting
alley bourbon
city gin
cool water
happy Sally
blue John
jump steady
see seven stars
old horsey
block and tackle
wild cat

And my favorite: Fuqurschitupliquor hellfire piss of Beezelbub

—–

Someone asked me if I’d be down to try to some baked tofu doughnuts. I told him that tofu is to doughnuts as peanut butter is to the Pledge of Allegiance.

A friend of mine told me she went to an “underwater river.” Yup.

Having a fever during a heat wave sucks. No joke here. I just wanted to say that.

July 4th is coming up, which means my excitement for life is going down.

I’ve been hearing fireworks in the area since mid-June. People have even been setting them off in the daytime. Angelenos are arsonists at heart. They just want to see things burn. Two weeks before Independence Day? Blasting off fireworks in broad daylight when no one can see them? That’s about as senseless as driving at night in a car with dark-tinted windows while wearing shades with your eyes closed.

I just passed a room full of important-looking people sitting at a round table, all looking at their laptops. It may look like some crucially serious meeting is going on, but I’m pretty sure they’re all really just playing Battleship.

I was starting the 7th grade at a new school. I was 12 years old. One of the first people to speak to me was this tall, wild-eyed girl who sat a few seats ahead of me. Five minutes after I sat down, she strolled over to me and looked down at me and launched these words out of her mouth, “How many kids you got?”

When I was young, I used to think that tartar sauce was made from the same tartar that can get on one’s teeth. Out of all the wrong stuff that I’ve thought about, this is clearly among the most misguided and counterfactual of clusterfucked ideas of mine.

Lately, I’ve seen runners with miners’ head lights on their heads. Why, joggers? You’re just running down the street at night. That’s all. There are street lamps above. Just look up and you’ll notice them. Actually, you don’t even have to look up because they’re shining light DOWN on you. Where are you going with that light on your head? Jogging in some caves and caverns? Are you going to rescue real miners?  You’re jogging down Easy Street, not charging into the Bat Cave.

Speaking of running, running with your dog is pointless. You’re trying to go forward while your dog keeps sniffing the nearest piece of shit on the ground. You’ll never get your heart rate up if you keep on starting and stopping. Meanwhile, your dog’s heart rate’s beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings because it’s happy as shit to be smelling shit.

Chivalry may be dead, but it’s got company. Masculinity is dead, too. Don’t believe me? Holla at me the next time you see a grown man walking a dog the size of a tomato can. Or the next time you see a grown man caressing a cat in his arms like it’s his newborn, first-born son. Or any guy who still wears Crocs.

Why does the arrow in the In-N-Out Burger logo look like it’s going up and away? Up-N-Away Burger may be more appropriate.

Guaranteed way to look like you fell on your head as a child: Power-walking downhill.

Ordered a tall blonde once in a Hollywood Starbucks. Felt like such a sellout.

When I’m walking down the street and a woman comes out of nowhere and walks in front of me, and then she turns back to look at me as if I am following or stalking her…Lady, please! I was walking on this street first. Get over yourself. You ain’t that special. In fact, you’re the one stalking me from the front.

Typos. I once typed a text that read, “I’m eating chicken out of a bowl.” That was after a quick revision, though. I had originally typed, “I’m eating chicken out of a bowel.”

While eating lunch, the wind blew and knocked over my chocolate shake. The shake fell over my lap. “Great! Now it looks like I shit myself from the front.”

The fortune cookies I get aren’t usually fortunes. They’re more like suggestions. Sometimes, not even that. For instance, things like “Have a great day,” “Your shoes are untied,” “Today is Tuesday,” and “Give a brotha a chance, son!” are not fortunes.

Blanche, Ethel, Myrtle, Barbara, Mildred, Doris, Louise, Frances, Shirley, Ruby, Betty, Helen, Agatha, Phyllis, Beatrice, Marge, Ruth, Leola, Gretchen, Gertrude, Martha, Opal, Rose, Eleanor, Marlene, Gladys, Josephine, Ilene. All old-fashioned (some would say antiquated) names that sound a lot better than North.

Run on, Bantu
Go up North, follow the star
Run on, Ashanti and Igbo
Run for lives, yours and ours
Run on, Maasai and Zulu
Freedomland will always seem far
Run on, Free Man
Still much ground to cover t’marr

Run on, Owens and Coachman
You carry the hopes of the people
Run on, Ali and Ashe
Overcoming hurdles away from the track
Run on, Smith and Carlos
Show the world that we are equal
Run on, Johnson and Louis
Keep on forward, never look back

Run on, Wheatley and Equiano
Your words turned horror into eloquence
Run on, Sojourner and Tubman
Showing us how to strive for excellence
Run on, Zora and Langston
Voices in a renaissance with no precedent
Run on, Baldwin and Walker
Telling the truth with no hesitance

Run on, Garrett and Granville
Innovators shifting life to sophisticate from agrestic
Run on, Joplin and Bologne
Le Chevalier de Saint George and Ragtime’s Majestic
Run on, Henry and Benjamin
Fierce, fighting wars abroad and domestic
Run on, Yasuke and Reeves
Unheralded giants of honor, warriors angelic

Run on, Robert and Bessie
Ambassadors of the birth of America’s sound
Run on, Coltrane and Bird
Blowing life into brass, heard Miles around
Run on, Kool Herc and Bambaataa
Creators of a culture that knows no bounds
Run on, Nubia and Kemet
The foundation, the roots, the fertile ground

Run on, Chisholm and Douglass
Unbought and unbossed, trails you blazed
Run on, Medgar and St. Maurice
Martyrs whose souls we raise
Run on, Barack and Michelle
You proved that it could be done
Run on, Martin and Malcolm
Unify, love, and respect everyone

Run on, Cinqué and Turner
Run on, Yanga and Vesey
Run on, Toussaint and Deslondes
Fought for freedom even when it got messy

Run on, black boy in the street
Run on, black girl, quick on your feet
To that officer, your life is of little concern
This is reality, lessons you all must learn
He can’t serve and protect your person
When his burner’s turned toward your sternum
You could be a scholar, a harlot, or a Hollywood starlet
In Charlotte, drinking Sparkletts in front of the market
Eyewitness news might witness you in a pool of crimson and scarlet
Sometimes, holding your hands up only gives them a larger target
Trigger-happy. Hair-trigger. Trigger man.
Trigger finger. Trigger word. Zimmerman.

Run on, black diaspora
Know the past, run toward the future
Ignorance reigns supreme in some
That’s why they aim to shoot ya
Your dark skin isn’t a marked sin
Yet all these marksmen act like we’re marked men
Harken this call for you to embark on
A mission to light a spark in your dark kin

Now let the heart darken

Run on
R – U – N. Are you in?
Run on
R – U – N. Are you in?

Yes, you’ve run far already
Yes, the journey isn’t steady
No, this race ain’t for the weak
No, this race ain’t for the meek
Yes, our race ain’t for the weak
Yes, our race ain’t for the meek
Yes, apathy can be heady
But, people, you better get ready

So we run on and on like a Badu Song of the South isn’t the direction in which we should be Moving on up like George and Louise Jefferson and don’t forget Florence who was really in charge like Charleston South Carolina another brother got shot in the back there Where? In the back I got your back you got my back Breaking hard work to break out of this cycle of savagery and psychotic behavior Behave yourself when you conduct your business in the street Smarts don’t matter like brown and black lives, says the magisters of brown and black strife so should we splatter blood of those not down with jack knives, then go kneel down and stack tithes, drown our frowns in Jack and pack dives, or defend our towns, begats, and wives, or attack the system that lacks the wisdom to act against such a cataclysm and embarrassment of harassment and justice but it’s just us, Jesus, Lady Liberty is supposed to have a chat with Lady Justice about our liberty and justice but they’re too busy taking selfies in front of chalk outlines on Sable Streets, Ebony Expressways, Onyx Avenues, and Obsidian Boulevards so that talk won’t happen so don’t make me laugh and you don’t want to miss a thing so don’t close your eyes and you’re not suicidal so don’t hold your breath ’cause that bitch is taking too long, taking her sweet-loving time, toying with the scales of Justice just to fuck us, she’s like, fuck us, fuck us, fuck us, focus…the onus is on us to own us…one us.

Run on.

What’s the point of makeup? The fact that you’re wearing makeup implies that you don’t truly look like that, so wearing makeup fools no one. So if no one’s fooled, then there’s no point of wearing it.

All State, State Farm, and Farmers could all merge and become All State Farmers.

KFC has a “Win a 12pc for a year” contest going on. I saw a banner for it in the window. What does that mean? Will they give you a piece every month?

So I’m standing on the side of the road when I see this truck pass by.  Is it me or does this logo look like a jock strap?  Take a look.

When the delivery person is late with your food and you call the restaurant and they say that he’ll be there any minute…which means any minute from now until the end of time…I don’t want my stuff any minute. I want it this minute.

Salted caramel is the ear wax of Jesus.

Sometimes, I’m as confused as a cross-eyed girl double-dutching in a hall of mirrors.

The Oscars are nearly 4 hours long. That’s roughly as long as two movies in a cinema. Some of these award shows are so long that the entire award show should be shown as a movie. The audience will just sit there and watch a movie for 4 hours. It’ll be a movie of them receiving and presenting awards. Then they broadcast a movie of them watching the movie to the rest of America.

Ever been so tired that the only thing that would give you energy is a bump of cocaine?

——–

Interesting signs in my neighborhood:

1) Yard

2) Car

——

Went to the post office the other day. They were out of forever stamps. The post office being out of forever stamps is like Staples running out of staples.

——

While hanging out with a slightly husky friend at a bar…
FRIEND: You gonna eat those fries, yo?
ME: Of course, man. Get off my fries.
FRIEND: I’m just sayin’, you ain’t touch them in a few minutes.
ME: That’s because we talkin’, man. You want me to be rude and have fries hanging out my mouth when we talkin’.
FRIEND: Ha ha! You right. You right.
ME: Plus, I thought you didn’t like sweet potato fries.
FRIEND: Well, don’t get me wrong, I like sweet potatoes just as much as the next man–
ME: From the looks of you, it looks like you like them more than the next man.
EX-FRIEND: Kiss my ass.

These tricycles with push handles…c’mon, parents! Really? You’re teaching your kids that they don’t even have to push the pedals. Wack. Already spoiled. Going through life expecting someone to always do the work for them.

I keep hearing Americans pronounce “literally” as li-tra-lee. Stop it, America! You’re America, not Britain. The next American accent I hear saying “literally” incorrectly is going to be stuffed into a car boot with about an anvil that weighs about 200 stones that will be…literally…pushed into the English Channel.

—–

I was walking with a friend long ago on some fairgrounds. We were talking about the stuff that teenage boys talk about: video games, sports, girls…

ROSCOE: So whatcha think?
ME: ‘Bout what?
ROSCOE: Lana, man. I think she likes me.
ME: She does?
ROSCOE: Yeah! Check it. She’s all, like, “Hey Roscoe, I like your shoes.” Then she be doin’ shit like, “Roscoe, when we gonna get together and hang out?” See what I’m sayin’? Lana is all up on me. Tryin’ to see where I’m going, tryin’ to see where I be at. She’s droppin’ hints.
ME: Watch out. That’s bullshit.
ROSCOE: Huh? What do you mean? Were you even listenin’? Lana loves this. This right here. Me, fool. Everybody tells me she does. Her girls, Tracy and Marla and ’em, told me the other day after school. Said Lana talks about me all the time at lunch.
ME: Bruh, that’s bullshit.
ROSCOE: Aiight, D! I’m ’bout to steal on yo’ ass right now. Everything I say, you tellin’ me that’s bullshit. What the fuck? I thought you we were boys?!
ME: Look down, man! You’re getting close to steppin’ in bull shit. I’ve been tellin’ you this whole time. There’s a cow pasture right over there. Smell it?
ROSCOE: Oh.

Stop right there. Don’t look at me that way.
You know that I’ve done all that I can do.
You want to go but I want you to stay.
Anyone can see that your feelings are true.

Why is our timing never the same?
We can never get in sync with our hearts.
We both know that there’s no one to blame.
I guess we should’ve known that from the start.

In another life
We’d be together at last.
In another life
The future is our past.

You cause me so many headaches.
I can’t think; you’re always on my mind.
I’m willing to do whatever it takes
To keep you here; I want you all the time.

Now you express to me that you want me too
And that you’ve done what you think’s best.
Yet the pain in your heart is brand new.
From your lips, you lean forward and confess.

In another life
We’d be together at last.
In another life
Time wouldn’t move so fast.

What should we do about the two of us?
The answer’s simple; it’s as plain as day.
You’re with someone, but you refuse to discuss.
So again, don’t look at me that way.

In a world, a world far away from here
Versions of us are living oh-so free
And our minds and magenta skies are clear
Don’t know when, but I’ll know that we’ll be

In another life
At last, we’ll be together.
In another life
Meet you at the end of forever.

“Leave me alone!”

She screamed at him as she shut the front door against the blistering gelid winds that February afternoon. The meteorologist mentioned that it would be cold, but this was beyond the occasional forecast inaccuracy. This was grounds for dismissal from the profession. Nearby Coley and Alamance Streets were suffering from a severe case of black ice. Too bad few people could make the diagnosis, for they were slipping and sliding like it was a summer pool party. No matter what the temperature was, it was colder inside.

“Where are you going?”
“Somewhere far away from you.”
“Let’s talk about it, please.”
“I’m done talking.”

She powered through the hallway, circled around the banister, and charged up the stairs. Following her, he grabbed her arm and spun her around midway up the stairwell.

“Listen, I know you’re mad, but you’re not hearing me.”
“What? What could you possibly have to say that you haven’t said already?”
“I didn’t do it. Why don’t you believe me?”
“Because you’re a bad liar. You can’t even do that well.”
“Perhaps you’re a bad listener.”
“Let go of me!”

He reluctantly released his grip. She stormed up the rest of the stairs. The sound of a baby crying resonated from above. She turned around once she reached the zenith of the climb.

“And you know what else?”
“Go ahead. Tell me how else I don’t meet your standards.”
“The baby.”
“What about the baby?”
“For the rest of my life, whenever I see the baby’s face, I’ll see you. That is something I do not want to experience.”
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t want anything to do with you anymore. I wish you were completely gone from my life. You make me sick to my goddamn stomach. Can’t stand the sight of you. Can you understand that?”
“You don’t mean that. Do you? We can–”
“Leave me alone.”

She entered the bedroom and hurled a mound of clothes from the bed into a suitcase. She zipped it up, and threw a tote bag full of the baby’s things over her shoulder.

“I’ll be back later for the rest of my stuff.”

The woman walked to the baby’s room, and peered into the crib.

“Where’s the baby?”

There’s no answer.

When she stepped out into the corridor, she saw the man standing at the other end, next to an open window. The wintry tempest blew mercilessly through the window, down the hall, chilling them to the bone. Shivering. The man held the cherubic baby in his arms.

The woman’s eyes widened. The man took one tearful gaze at her.

“Your wish is granted.”

Clutching the baby to his sternum, the man defenestrated himself into the blizzard beyond.

He left her alone.

“BUT I’M ME!”
–an actual quote I overheard from someone who is still playing catch-up in the mental game

Garages should be renamed Carages. I mean, when’s the last time you drove a gar?

My friend was having a hard time opening a bottle of Advil. You know how you have to align the arrows together to pop the cap? Well, this particular bottle proved to be pretty formidable. After she tried for several minutes, she nearly flipped her lid. Hurting her hands in the process, I told her to be careful and to not break her hand. I could see the headline now: WOMAN BREAKS HER HAND TRYING TO OPEN PAIN KILLERS; WILL NEED EVEN MORE PAIN KILLERS NOW.

I’m seeing a lot of cyclists dressed like they’re professional cyclists. Stop it! Stop racing down Highland Boulevard like you’re in the Tour de France. Fool, you ain’t Greg LeMond! You’re Boyd Lloyd from Accounting. Get out of those spandex! You look you were rejected from an audition for MC Hammer backup dancers rejects.

—-
Saw a Fairfax High Seniors shirt that read:

Behind us are our memories
Beside us are our friends
Before us are our dreams

Nice sentiment, but they should revisit that slogan about 10 years after high school and revise it to:

Behind us are our saggy asses
Beside us are spare tires
Before us are our beer guts
—-

So many Amazon reviewers aren’t the sharpest knives in the drawer, like this guy below. This is the review verbatim (some parts I’ve set in bold for emphasis):

0 of 5 people found the following review helpful
2.0 out of 5 stars
This mailing DID NOT have the short story I asked for!! Bummer
September 17, 2012
By C. H. Mason “Reader” (New York City)

This review is from: Eight Men: Short Stories (Paperback)

I needed a particular story by the great Richard Wright but unfortunately, although I specifically said this was the work I needed, the selection sent did not have it within! That was not a happy discovery!

*** *** *** ****

OK, here’s my beef. This guy is going to give a book of short stories 2 stars because he thinks that he can request a particular short story to be included in a book of short stories that’s already been published.

—-
Earlier this week, I was waiting to cross the street with two other people. We were all strangers. Two of us carried umbrellas, while the other wore a raincoat. The sky was cloudy, and puddles were everywhere. Then, some guy joins us at the cross walk. He opens his mouth and the following comes out, “Oh, wow! Did it rain?”

Sometime later, I realized that we had missed the last 7 light changes, because we were all taking turns slapping that guy.
—-

Recently, my memory hasn’t been the best. So, the other day, I decided that I needed to try some ginkgo biloba to improve my memory. I couldn’t remember that ginkgo biloba was called ginkgo biloba. Damn shame.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!
SEE YOU IN 2015!

Cali is nicknamed the Golden State. The state next to it is Nevada, which is the Silver State. The state next to Nevada is Utah, which could be called the Bronze State…only if it wasn’t for it enormous scarcity of brown and black people.

Women should come up with alternative names for their menstrual cycles. The name Flo is overused. Cousin Flo, Aunt Flo, etc. Everyone knows what Flo means, so using Flo to be discreet doesn’t work anymore. If that’s the case, might as well use direct names, like Mama Menses, Mother Monthlies, or Sister Cycle.

It may be impossible to actually turn fat into muscle, but some female weightlifters definitely have the ability to change their breasts to pecs.

In Bruno Mars’ song “Locked Out of Heaven,” he states, “‘Cause your sex takes me to paradise.” Doesn’t that mean he’s dead?

Some Caucasians have a particular yell or scream when they’re having fun. I call it the Call of the Wild. It’s very similar to legendary wrestler Rick Flair’s “Wooooo!”  Very distinct.  You can’t miss it.  When this happens, just know that someone is having a really good time. Alcohol may be involved. Flying alcohol bottles definitely will be involved.

The traffic and navigation app Waze warns you if police are up ahead. There needs to be an app like this made especially for black men.  A heads-up would be nice.

“Well, at least were moving.” = the most positive phrase you will hear anyone say regarding LA traffic

Best logo for a meat company goes to Metropolitan Meat, Seafood, and Poultry in Landover, MD. Everyone’s so happy to be slaughtered.

Why does Dr. Oz wear hospital scrubs on his show? Does he think that having “Doctor” in his name isn’t enough? Does he need a stethoscope and a clipboard too? Obviously, he doesn’t think that his audience needs visual aids in addition to medical titles.

Thanksgiving: It’s weird to think we get stuffed on something that’s been stuffed with stuffing.

One of the funniest things to watch in during the holiday season is SoCal kids going nuts at the fake snow falling at the Grove here in LA. I understand that snowfall isn’t common in SoCal, so I don’t fault the kids for being excited. It’s just hard for me to imagine an East Coast equivalent. What would kids back East get excited over during the holidays that’s pretty commonplace in LA but rare near the Atlantic? Smog? LAPD helicopters chasing Santa’s sleigh and reindeer? Santa saying, “Ho, ho, ho, dude”? Wait, these aren’t exciting at all.

I recently said that someone was verbose and grandiloquent. I then realized that using the words “verbose” and “grandiloquent” made me sound verbose and grandiloquent.

When I hear someone say they like being pampered, I always imagine that person getting a pamper put on them like a baby. I need to stop having these mental images.