Chocolate + Pumpkin = Fate worse than death.

I hereby declare that Ceasar salad dressing is superior to its Ranch-flavored counterpart in every way. It always has been and always shall be. Ranch just isn't as good.

Dare ye contradict me?

Speaking of two horrible things that should never go together, my roommate just left to go to the store to get some chocolate chip pumpkin cake. A filthy disgrace that should never have been born.

Chocolate = kinda' gross.

Pumpkin = foul, indisputably disgusting, vomit-inducing nastiness that only grew on this earth as a direct result of the Fall of Adam, forsaken by God, and is useful only to be desecrated into jack-o-lanterns, and that's a shady business in itself.

It boggles my mind that we allow people to combine these two evils without them being disowned by their families and shunned and exiled by society, to be banned to some far away island, inhabited only by colonies of lepers.

Worse still is that some fool decided long ago to allow pumpkin pie to be a part of Thanksgiving. Here you have a splendid meal, and someone always comes along and ruins it by bringing a nasty pumpkin pie. It's like peeing in your Cheerios. I'm still working on suppressing the gag reflex.

Has no one else noticed that pumpkin pie is really really really gross? Am I the only one? Seriously? The only reason anyone can stomach that crap is because it's so loaded down with sugar and fat that it almost cancels out the seaweed flavored grime to where it's a sort of semi-conscious bland entity, looking up at you with an apathetic, boring glare, past the point of feeling, wanting nothing more than death to come and take it from it's shameful, moist, gluttony existence.

I wash my hands of you, pumpkin.


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Overpriced names.

The best thrift store purchase I've ever made was a dressy trench coat made by Gucci that I bought at DI for $8. I didn't like it that much compared to another one that I have so I gave it back to DI when I moved to California.

On a whim, I looked it up online the other day to see how much it was worth.

$900.

Yep. Of course, "worth" is all relative. I'd say it's really worth about 20 or 30 bucks, but if you wanted to buy it new, online, you'd have to pay more than the value of my entire wardrobe.

And I've never understood why people pay way, way too much for clothes that have a fancy-schmancy brand name, when the name is not visible.

This blog entry ends here.


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[couldn't think of a title. Go away.]

I just spent six hours "writing music."

Everything I wrote completely sucks. So now I have to make the terrible decision to either cut my losses and delete everything, or spending twice as much time massaging this piece of crap until it's almost mediocre.

It's useless. So I thought I'd take a break and make a blog entry. Lo and behold, can't think of anything to write about.

Think of all the things I could have done with those six hours. I've could have worked somewhere for 8 dollars an hour and then used the $35(after taxes) to buy a Christmas present for some starving orphan in some strange, far away, war-torn land. Or for some starving orphan here in LA.

Bleeaaaagghghghghgeaeghghgeageghaehg

That was me barfing.


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Say that again!

I wonder about screen writers that feel no shame when they write something similar to this:


SALLY: We just need to figure out a way to get Mr. Beesely to confess to the murder.

TED: Yeah. Hey do you want some orange juice?

SALLY: What? Wait... say that again!

TED: Umm.... Do you want some orange juice?

SALLY: That's it! Ted you're a genius!

(Sally kisses Ted on the cheek and then runs out the door enthusiastically. Ted stands there confused and also noticeably pleased about the kiss.)


Honestly! Who in the history of the Earth has ever really needed someone to "say that again" when they're having an epiphany? It's so dumb!

Just change the names and vital keywords in the dialogue above and you now have the script to the pivotal moment in every police/detective/murder-mystery TV show ever made.

And it's not just the fact that one idiot actually came up with it, to the everlasting shame of our species, but that so many millions of unoriginal writers actually thought it was a good idea and copied it! Why? Why?


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I lost my number. That's all.

"My love for you is like diarrhea; I just can't hold it in."

I think that one of my life-long goals is to use that pick up line in the perfect moment. Chances of me remembering it when it really counts? About 7.

I'll let you decide what that number means.

It reminds me of when I was a freshman in college, and my roommate was going on a date with a girl for the third or fourth time, and he came to me for advice because he wanted to kiss her. He had never kissed anyone before and so he wanted me to tell him how to go about it.

NOW, for those of you that know me, you know that I'm often mistaken for being serious when I'm full-out joking. A problem I'm still working on.

So I told him to wait until the end of the night and then bust out this terrible pick-up line about kissing that was something like this:

"Your lips are all wrinkly. Want me to smooth them out for you?"

A couple days later, that girl was eating lunch with me and she was like,

"You would never believe what your roommate did the other night! It was so pathetic!"

My heart sank. He actually did it. One of the only times I've ever wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

Luckily she thought it was "cute" or whatever. Psssssh. They ended up dating. Happy ending.


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Just what I need!

Don't get me wrong. I'm a big fan of the LA underground crap exchange, as I've decided to call it. It's how I found my couch-bed, and other various little tables and such.

But I think that someone living on my block has officially taken it too far.


Yes. To answer your question. Someone on our block actually legitimately believes that if they put their old, used toilets, both of which are broken, out on the curbside, that someone would want them.

Gives new meaning to my phrase, "underground crap exchange."

More than anything it's just been a place for lots of people to come and take pictures with which to update their FB profiles. People driving by saw us snapping pics and stopped to do the same thing.

You see, though it may be California, it's still technically America, and toilets are a permanent feature to any house. Few tenants are ever in need.

But I can just see those who put them out on the curb thinking to themselves,

"Being generous and giving just makes me feel so good inside. After all, this toilet shortage has gone too far, and we need to do our part to help out! Come take our broken, disgusting toilet! Freedom! Three cheers for America!"

I could go on but I'm done.


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Tax dollars hard at work.

I remember one of the most frustrating and annoyingly tedious tasks of the third grade, for me at least. That would be learning how to write in cursive.

What a ridiculous waste of time! Do they still force little kids to learn this? Do they still force them to stress and agonize over learning how to make their letters all curvy and illegible? It's basically the same as teaching someone to have bad handwriting.

It's pretty rare that I ever even have to read anything in cursive, and when I do see it, I usually can't help but get angry at whoever wrote it. It's a pain to read! Honestly! It doesn't save any time. It just bothers the rest of us, and by that I mean the 99.9% of the population that have long since abandoned it.

I wish I could go back in time, and visit little Stephen, sitting at the kitchen table, forced to keep writing out crap in cursive until he gets it right, while the rest of the family is in the next room, watching a movie, him sitting there fighting off the urge to cry because he can't get it right.

I would like to go back and visit him and say, "Hey, little buddy. Don't worry about it. Just go ahead and fail this little portion of the third grade. Turns out it will have absolutely no effect on your life at all in any way. Everything they're telling you is a LIE! Nothing to worry about, dude. Now go watch the movie. Oh and also don't write on the bus seats with permanent markers. Bad idea."

I think I'd also tell him to invest everything he has in Google.


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