Bus, STOP!

Riding on public transportation, one is bound to see a number of abnormal happenings.

Guy staring at the floor while mindlessly sipping from the largest-you-can-legally-buy can o’ Iced Tea? Check.

Woman eating a single Reese’s PB Cup, though it’s been squished near-flat and she’s scrapin’ at it with her bottom tooth-stumps to get the what’s-left out of the cup? DING.

Black guy rollin’ his head and finger-pointing to the beat of music only he can hear… though he’s not wearing earphones? PO PO ZAO.

Mexicans? AY AY AAAAY!

Blacks? Unh. (na-na-na-nAAAA)

Asians? Hai.

White(s)? Yeah.

The Journey of Life is much like dealing with public transportation. Not everybody has to share the same journey, getting in and out, off and on here and 3 stops ago. See, what happened to me a few times the past 2 weeks is this. There’s a schedule drivers are s’posed to keep, from stop to stop. It keeps them from being a giant bus train all over the city, and keeps people from congregating for an hour until their bus comes… or doesn’t.

I was about 3 minutes behind schedule leaving work on foot a couple weeks ago. I walk a quarter-mile to the bus stop at Fairfax & Beverly, home of CBS TV Studios and the occasional transvestite slap-fight. At the corner I get to, I have bus option 1, the 217 that takes about 25 minutes in rush traffic to get to my home-stop. Option 2 is the 780, the Express that takes about 19 minutes and has fewer stops on the way to my destination. They arrive, usually, 7 or 11 minutes apart, then NOTHING for about 15minutes. So if you miss ‘em both, you got 15minutes to contemplate why you left work 3 minutes late. 780, 7 minutes, 217, 11 minutes, 780, etc. Miss one, and your evening drinkin skej goes pear-shaped.

Today, walking home from the store, with a schedule in my head to e-send something to My Wife!, I decided to make it faster and catch the bus. This time it’s a 3minute bus ride or a 20min walk. Bus runs every 12minutes, usually, so even if I miss one, I’m gonna make up the time. Well I hit the stop and wait. 8minutes past when it should’ve come, not bad. Took me 5min to walk to the stop and no bus passed me, so the bus is running late. I waited a few more, then realized, hey, by now, I could be WAY the hell closer to home and further from what botanists call “probably a hobo’s drying pee.”

The bus is late, way late. And things to be done are waiting. Where da bus is, yo?

And I said “well I can’t wait for this power trip, I gotsta GO,” but to myself. In a very H&R Block-friendly voice. And I started walking. I cross the street, parallel to the bus lane o’ travel. The bus stop, not 1minute behind me, is empty. Just me, a bit East of ‘er. Walking.

And then That Bus blazes by. I’m 100 feet from the bus stop. The bus, now 8minutes behind on the day before damn-near ever’bawdow has a day off and traffic is lighter than Heidi Montag’s “Thought Book,” rips by me. RIPS. 50 in a 35. Ain’t my fault.

And a theory of Life hit me as the wind rolled up my back while I said, “Mother ASS BITCH POO STAIN.” It may have gotten racial. Sorry. Public Transit is piloted by some WEIRD people. Would YOU wanna drive strangers up & down the street all day? No. You’re too busy thinking of ways to cook loin of venison with a red wine-cocoa nib reduction. So what was I talking about? LIFE.

We have stops in life. Moments. Milestones. Wait points. Who knows when you’ll get off at one. When another bus comes around, it may not be y’all’s. But those stops are there. As you wait at your stop, some may think, “Look, that sex-diesel is waiting for a bus!” or “If I were at that bus stop, I’d keep my distance from that one. But then again, my raw food diet means I rabbit-fart day long.” But there you are. Bus Stop Waiting.

Because you could just start walking, too. You could up and go. Sun on you. Wind at you. Rain soak you. Breeze cool you. Tiring you out. Because you cannot wait. You can’t. And That Bus isn’t coming around, or hasn’t, and if you walk, you’ll be closer to your destination, and can likely pick up a bus at another stop down the way there.

Or you could wait a bit more. Because when it does arrive, you’re then speeding along at a much faster rate than you can walk (no offense), and back to reading “The Outliers,” ironically, for your present sitch.

Do you know when it will arrive?

Or do you just Know it will, and when it does, you’ll be ready for the ride?

Sometimes it’s better to just hoof it and get there.

Sometimes you miss it by a second and your effort closes the distance.

You may wait much longer than you want.

You may hit it at the right time.

You must know it will come for you. Have Faith. You’re on your way, even if you aren’t moving. But… You can walk and get tired. Or!!! You can wait while others think you’re lazy for not just walkin’. Your faith that it will arrive can save you the effort of “doing it yourself.” And just a bit-more waiting as you read your hot book gets you to where you’re going much, much faster.

Or you can walk and see where a homeless guy OBVIOUSLY took a shit in a Von’s bag and didn’t seal it in front of what was once Culver Nissan.

And no, I’m not saying God is a Bus Driver, nor Black, Mexican, or Multi-ethnic. But he doesn’t have all day. Pay up, get on, and shut your taco-catch. If you can't enjoy the ride, at least enjoy your read.

And some. Well. Some never get on that bus.

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Nopen Mics

For the most part, open mics in the Los Angeles comedy scene are either very early, or rather shitty. I'm spoiled, I guess, coming from Seattle where there was usually some sort of audience consisting of other-than-comics. And I'm still amazed that there were nights at the Underground where 30 comics made the open mic bill and STILL a few were getting bumped.

GAAAAAAA, it's fucking frustrating to be in the midst of it, too. Not just Ego on the keys here. There are good rooms that start too early for me to get to them. There are bad rooms that are open but way the F out in the middle of Asserton. And seriously, here ya go.

FUCK YOU:

• Los Angeles Transit Shitheads who can't synchronize traffic lights, as I leave a green light and approach a red light within 100 yards
• Dipshits in fedoras, you are neither that good of a DJ nor a lesbian DJ
• Valet Parking turdloads who park other people's cars in the open street spots
• Westwood. The whole area. Eat a hot steam loaf.

There's so much more, but I'm too mad to even type well. My fingers are pounding the keyboard.

I am no longer FOR Assisted Suicide. I am now putting all my efforts behind Suggested Suicide. That list is growing longer by the moment.

So now, I'm about to do enough push-ups to drive the house an inch into the ground, and start some old-fashioned prison workouts.

I'm like Heavyset Black Lady on Maury-angry.

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Gesturing To The Heavens

Kindness.
To express kindness, truly, is to do so without the intent to do so, and to do so without an idea that you'd ever expect any sort of return gesture of appreciation. To do so that it is done, from the purest of intent, to be Kind.

It's really friggin' hard to be kind sometimes. I try to think of myself as kind, but I think, truly, I'm just courteous. I open doors for people, I try and let people over in traffic if they have a blinker and a commitment to GO. I try and say "excuse me" when walking between people who are talking but standing all over the place on a sidewalk like they own the thing like dickholes.

Doing nice things for other people isn't about what the Do'er gets out of it.
Don't do nice things for others because it makes YOU feel good.
Do nice things for others because it makes THEM feel guilty.

Then they'll buy you things.

And never mistake Kindness for Weakness.
To offer up your service, your help, your home, your money, your food, is to say "I care to give." It's not saying "Oh, no, you should take this from me, I am unworthy and you are more worthy and I'm a worm."
A "Thank You" card is in order.

We could all use some more kindness, that's for sure. And for whatever reason, I have to allow people to be kind to me on THEIR terms, and see the beauty of their intent. But really, if you send me a package through UPS that i HAVE to sign-for...
and you know I'm at work all day...
and I can't sign for it...
then I have to go TO the UPS thing to pick it up...
perhaps a gift card would be in order? Because if I go pick it up, and it's, you know, "cheeky" and I can't really do anything with your gift, you really just sent me an errand.

See how it all goes poorly? Cash. Gift cards. That's what I give.
Because I follow the Golden Rule. Treat others they way they ought to treat you.

Although, a couple years ago my Broham Of Law bought me the DVD set of "Band Of Brothers," and that was a phenomenal gift. THAT's some awesome man presents right there.

Okay, so be nice for the sake of being nice, but try and think ahead of your gift is going to be a pain in the recipient's assmeat. If your gift horse is eating my furniture, you're getting a returned gift horse skeleton, waiting your pick-up at the delivery centre.

Be nice. And be nice when you're being nice. Please.

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Why're You Sweatin' It?

Hey folks, here's the deal... You gotta try this plan. GOTTA! And it helps me get a little coin in my pocket, I won't kid ya.

I firmly believe in the Turbulence Training plans. They've helped me drop about 15lbs since the start of the year, all of it fat. It'd prob'ly be more but I'll admit my diet isn't always the cleanest. And lately I'm cleaning it up, and dropped another 2lbs the past two weeks, while getting leaner and smaller where it counts.

After all, you can't out-train a bad diet. It's impossible.

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Oh, and Craig Ballantyne follows his own advice, and looks like THIS...

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Do You Have 21 Days To Get Fit... -ter?

Yes, I'm gonna push this on you. For your own good, though, because I loves ya.

There's a 21 Day Trial-Offer, too, in case you need to try it out for a bit before you commit. You know, like all of your relationships. (awkwaaard)

Gang, I gotta tell you the truth. Last year I combined Turbulence Training with a clean-ish diet, and got great results. My weight tipped about 230lbs, and I was sick of it. I didn't look bad, just schlubby. Soft in the middle. I wanted to move faster and have more stamina, just for life. I wanted to look better on stage. I wanted my wife to say, "Yes, that's a hunk of man right there," and be pointing at ME.

And I didn't want to do 45min of empty-gut cardio in the morning, and an hour of weight-tossing antics with meatloads in the afternoon before eating a pound of steak and 3 yards of broccoli for dinner.

I found Turbulence Training, a plan incorporating Interval Training with Weight Lifting.

So I bought the package. And in 2 weeks, I had lost 5lbs. Of fat. That's 87,500 calories burned in 14 days. My bodyweight dropped 11lbs, and the bodyfat % dropped nicely.

After my dad passed away, hey, guess who did some stress eating? Then guess who was in Vegas for 10 days? And guess who put on 11lbs in 8 weeks?

AND GUESS WHO returned to Turbulence Training in February and just dropped his 12th LardBrick since then? Even though I did slip here and there, it's working. It works. It does.

Go. Go. Go. It's almost shirt-removal weather. You can look better, sleep better, feel betterin your clothes (or out!), and you can do it in under an hour, 3-4 days a week.

Q&A

1. Do I need a gym membership? NO, you can do this with your own bodyweight, like a gladiator.
2. I'm a woman, a hot one, so will this work for me? YES, with the Female Specific workouts. You're not going to look like a linebacker, unless you're on a ton of 'Roids again. You're gonna be a leaner version of YOU. Sexy.
3. I wanna pack on muscle. OKAY, not a question, but you can do this, too, with TT.
4. So Now what? GO HERE, CLICK HERE, DO THIS! You have nothing to lose but, well... you know.
   

CLICK HERE
Help you, help me. Help me help you. Help us both! You can do this. Give it a shot.

Wuss.


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Funny Blabbit

You want jokes?
Here ya go....

SWINE FLU recently captured our attention as a nation on the verge of giving a shit.
The entire news network machine could have told us ANYTHING at that point, and we'd have believed it and done it to keep ourselves alive to get to the of this recession and buy a gun and move to the hills.
Our media machine F'ed up BIG TIME.
Wash my hands and Cover my mouth when I cough?
WTF is THAT? Your advice to the world is to act like the kind of adult we should already be?
What about tacking on something we can USE?

1. Cover your mouth when you cough
2. Wash your filthy hands frequently, pig-toucher
3. Stay away from pigs unless "Pig" is in your job title or "the Pig" is your Mistress's nickname for you, as in "Shitcake the Pig."
   
4. Stop putting your empty shopping cart in an empty parking space you lazy shitcake pig.
5. Don't use the "N" word, even in private, nor in "quotation fingers."
   

Our media sucks H1N1 bawlz.
-------------------------------------
Kid wanted to party at his girlfriend's High School Prom. The kid went to a very conservative/Draconian Christian Mindbending Compound doubling as a school, and was told he'd be suspended if he attended the prom. It would be his experiencing things "counterculture" to his school's beliefs that would get him Red-Lettered with a big "S" for "Suspended," and more accurately "Sinner."

Like all of us are.
I can't see how this kid could stand the torment. Being suspended from the worlds most-boring school for the simple fact of Dancing!(gasp), hand-touching(MORNING AFTER PILL, NOW!), and hearing music that is NOT a hymn of any sort.

If I were that Christian boy's father, I'd march down to that Christian High School, into the Christian Principal's office, and punch him directly in his religious sojourner's bag. THAT will how we make decisions based on God's call for love and sharing of our gifts.

Sometimes Christians make me so mad I just want to tell them Santa Claus IS real.
-----------------------------------


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Maddening Nation

ESPN has gone to new heights to showcase talents that are good nowhere else but in a niche market.
World Series coverage? Yes.
World Series of Poker? 8 straight days of it.
Bass fishing. World's Strongest Mammoth. Billiards. Bowling. Women's Collegiate Rowing.
Why not?

A few years ago they hopped on-board with the Madden video game wave... about a decade late... and started hosting and broadcasting nation-wide tournaments. This is a major culture in the US gaming circles. I totally understand that.
When I was in college at Central Washington University (GO CATS), myself and 10 other dorm-mates did similar things. We spent hours running tournaments (I've won a couple) and practicing and talking sheeeeit to each other. It was a riot.

In watching the Madden Nation Finals the other day, 12minutes I'll never get back, I noticed how intense the...
1) Smack-talking was ("Don't even TRY that, SON" and "STUPID, try it again, DUMMY, see what happens, FAM'LY!", and that's the very tame stuff), as if they were about to punch each other in the face...
AND
2) How truly dumb the players were. My sad favorite was a fat, dumb kid from Tampa named "Bud." Bud is 19 years old. He weighs in excess of 300lbs. He plays videogame football. He is, in the link above, the kid at the far left of the group.
When they did the "player profile" interview, it went like this...
"My nayn Jayng Jone. When I's bo'n, m' mama inna hos'i'al jus' call m' Buud, so das what I'm called. Buuud."
"At firs' I wan' be a psychologis'. But then I wa' like, nah, I jus' wanna be free, so I kep' gamin' and look at me now."

So I think his name is James.
And he wanted to be a psychologist, and instead, NAH, decided to "be free" and turn it up for some video gamin'. He came in 4th. In the nation. Hopefully he'll parlay that placing into a career in Madden coaching or Madden play-by-play commentary or Madden Summer Camps for kids.
Or no, he can't.

It's truly the funniest TV show on right now. It's unintentionally so, but when a 20 year-old from Philly, with waxed eyebrows, wins the whole thing, and talks about getting plasma TVs for every room in his mom's basement, you know we need to bring back the Draft.




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