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Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Stop!

Tis the season to not take any bullshit from anyone. If someone gets in your way make them regret it. The adrenalin rush you’ll feel racing through your body will be worth the consequence, that is if you get caught. I mean who the hell needs peace and serenity when anger is so much more fun?

Just the other day in Los Angeles a crossing guard was holding up her “stop” sign to allow people to cross the street. The 59 year old woman was doing her job; doing it well; doing it proudly.

Then an SUV came along and didn’t want to heed her warning. Why should they? They had some place to go and didn’t want some 59 year old crossing guard near an elementary school telling them - in their mighty SUV - what to do.

So what did they do? They jumped out of their mighty SUV and beat up the crossing guard. They ripped her ID badge from around her neck and stole her “stop” sign. They jumped back into their mighty SUV and drove away.

27 year old Jose Hernandez and 20 year old Vanessa Del Pilar Martinez ganged up on a defenseless crossing guard.

Luckily witnesses memorized the mighty SUV’s license plate and the police were able to track them down and arrest them. They’re both being held in jail in lieu of $50,000 bail.

I can only imagine what could possess two absolute moronic idiots to do such a stupid, stupid thing. Were they on drugs? Were they angry because their credit cards were declined at the mall and took out their frustration on the crossing guard? Are they bullies who get a sexual rush out of beating up crossing guards?

I hope Santa fills their stockings with coal, the reindeer shit on their roof, and they spend months behind bars with cellmates named Big Bubba and Large Marge.

Ho, ho, ho.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

The Tidy Bowl Man

A few weeks ago my toilet wasn’t feeling well. The water kept running and wouldn’t shut off.

If I were the Tidy Bow Man in his motor boat cruising the lake of my toilet it would have seemed like a waterfall (not as powerful as Niagara) cascading down the side of the tank causing some rough waters. I worried the Tidy Bowl Man would be seasick, or worse, the waters would be too rough and capsize his little boat.

I immediately called the landlord and after a few attempts he finally diagnosed and supposedly fixed the problem. For a couple of weeks the waters were calm, and when I lifted the lid I could see the Tidy Bowl Man happily singing “Shiver Me Timbers” and other nifty nautical songs.

I did notice the water level wasn’t as high as it normally was, but I assumed it was because of the new part the landlord installed. My toilet was being green, saving water and helping save the environment. I wanted to call Al Gore and tell him I was doing my share.

Thinking I was being green wasn’t what was really happening. Oh no... my toilet tale is about to take a bad turn...

I flushed the other day and as the toilet did it’s thing I heard a high-pitched “oohing.” It wasn’t a happy “oohing.” It was desperate, scary “oohing.”

I looked in the toilet and there was no water. The tank had not refilled. The Tidy Bowl Man was no where to be found. I called out his name. I yelled “Shiver Me Timbers.” I banged SOS on the side of the tank.

The water never returned. Not a drop.

The Tidy Bowl Man was flushed to the sewers. Gone. All that was left was his little sailor hat that lay lonely against the dry white porcelain.

RIP Tidy Bowl Man.

I should sue the landlord for negligent toilet skills.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

The Sunday Morning Call

When I moved to California almost twenty years ago I moved west from my east coast roots which meant I entered a new time zone. There was now a three hour difference with me being three hours earlier than my family.

I remember my first week in Los Angeles. The sun. The great temperatures. Everything smelled new. It was all very exciting.

And then Sunday arrived.

I was nestled in my new bed lost in dreamtime when the phone rang jolting me out of my reverie. I glanced at the clock and it was 7:55 AM. Who would be calling me so damn early?

In my half-asleep hoarse voice I mumbled a curt, yet friendly, hello. On the other end were my parents all excited to hear about the my new adventures in the land of cacti, palm trees, and tofu. They had just come home from church, poured themselves a cup of coffee, and were relaxing around the kitchen table.

It never occurred to them that I might still be asleep.

I never had the heart to tell them it was way too early to call.

Over the years - almost twenty - I was able to gently move the Sunday morning calls from 7:55 to 8:05 to 8:15 etc. until this past year we arrived at 9:20 AM. Yes, every Sunday morning I received a call. It was our tradition. I learned to look forward to it and in my own routine began getting up a few minutes before the call, brewing some medium roast coffee, and anticipating the ring of the phone.

That call was the family connection, the lifeblood from which I came, a comfort, and a anchor when life got too hectic.

Sadly, last week the calls changed forever when my mother died after a brief illness. Of course I still have dad to talk to, but with mom gone the Sunday morning call will never be quite the same.

Thursday, November 04, 2010

130 Million

Thank goodness Jerry Brown was elected California’s new Governor. I will personally welcome with open arms.


As for his opponent Meg Whitman... egad, evil now has a face and it’s certainly not a pretty one.

Whitman spent over $130 million of her own money to buy our votes, but no one wanted to sell their soul to get the crap she was selling. This is a woman who didn’t vote for 28 years yet had the audacity to expect people to vote for her. What the hell was she thinking?

She obviously wasn’t thinking, but I have been thinking about what she could’ve done with $130 million to really benefit people (and in the process give her some desperately needed good karma).

She could’ve bought thousands of computers and donated them to schools.

She could’ve bought 130 million yo-yos because people love to get together and yo-yo.


She could’ve bought thousands of Olivia Newton-John’s Liv-Aid Devices to help women detect breast cancer.

She could’ve donated millions to buy food for the homeless, diapers for children, and vaccines for newborns.

She could’ve donated money to medical research.

She could've bought all of us gift certificates to Olive Garden.

She could’ve helped the victims of the latest earthquake, hurricane, or typhoon.

She could’ve bought herself a makeover; new hairstyle; new face; and a new heart.

It’s all coulda woulda shoulda... but she didn’t. Instead she pissed the money away on telling lies and caressing her big fat ugly ego.

Hopefully she’ll crawl back into her cave so we’ll never see or hear from her again.