July 19, 2011
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Well played sir…
Recently I was walking down the street. I noticed a bum, further on up the road. As I approached I noticed he was just minding his own business and not asking anything from the people passing by. When I got within arms distance he turned his attention to me. I knew what I expected to hear and started to prepare an excuse as he in a most serious tone asked, “Excuse me buddy, can I borrow 5 million dollars?”
In spite of myself, I let out a hearty laugh. And I looked at this man who was wearing a tiny smirk of playfulness. A moment passed between us in the span of a couple seconds nothing more was said and my simple amusement carried me the rest of that block. Then I realized that I had 5 dollars in my pocket and I wanted to give it to the homeless man. If for no other reason than he created a funny human moment through the gift of laughter. So I turned and walked back and handed the man my 5 dollar bill. He accepted it and his only reply was:
“I’ll let you owe me the rest!”
May 22, 2011
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Fire Safety 101 or quibbling with lazerguided stupidity
I, like most people, enjoy variation so I don’t drive everyday to work. Some days I take my bike and the subway, which is cheaper and leaves a smaller carbon footprint so to speak. Plus it’s fun because I like riding my bike. And most people that I talk to about it are encouraging and open to the idea, because it is good for the environment. And in some small way directly good for them; being that they have to breathe the air in the LA basin. But sometimes riding your bike is not convenient if you don’t have anywhere to keep it. I am lucky enough to have an office with plenty of room for the bike to sit patiently while I work.
I started a new job about 3 weeks ago. At this new job I also have an office suitable for storing a bike. I decided to ride to work.
Now keep in mind I work in an 8-story building with one entrance and elevators that are key coded by floor. So there isn’t a stairwell that I know of and I’m not really sure what the keycard situation would be with those emergency exit doors. Which means i stick to the front entrance.
Oops I almost forgot to introduce the old man who works as the buildings security lobby usher person; basically he signs people in and out of the building. At least that is his day job. I’m pretty sure his night job revolves around dumping hazardist waste at the edge of elementary schools. Or maybe he doesn’t have a night job and, like Ian Macallen in Apt Pupil, tries to put cats into ovens.
Anyway… apparently he hates the environment or was molested while watching Fern Gully or something; because when he sees me and my bike he freaks out and jumps over the desk and rushes me. I thought for a second he was going to tackle me.
“Sir… SIR!…There are no bikes allowed in the building.”
“Really? How terribly inconvenient for people who ride their bikes to work.”
“Sir, no one rides a bike to work here!”
“Well I hate to quibble with you but, I ride a bike.”
“Sir, there are no bikes allowed in the building.”
I am surprised… did he just say there are no bikes in the building? I’m not quite sure whether he is joking yet, so I bite,
“Okay what do you suggest I do with it?”
“Well you’re just going to have to leave it outside.”
“Yeah… that wont be happening.”, I say. “I don’t have a lock and there are no signs saying bikes are not allowed.”
“That is not my problem, sir. We don’t need signs. You should have a lock they’re not that expensive”
“Num nuts, I own a lock! I just didn’t bring it with me because I have a place to put my bike. So I don’t need to lock it up”
“Well bikes are not allowed in the building.”
“Why aren’t bikes allowed in the building?”
“Because they are a fire hazard.” At this i actually laughed out loud in his face.
“Clearly they aren’t a fire hazard, unless people were either leaving them in front of emergency exits or bringing them into the building soaked in gasoline.” He was not amused by my conclusion.
This was going no where fast so I said,
“I’m going upstairs to work now, goodbye.”
And I strode past him with my bike in tow heading for the elevator bank. He clearly had not ever been met with this sort of blatant disregard for his sign-in-mark-your-name-and-note-the-time perceived power. He looked stunned for a moment. But he continued pursuit. As he stepped across the elevator threshold to greet me with disaproving looks I couldn’t help but be struck by the ludicrousness of the moment. I was after all helping to cut down on the use of foreign oil, and was by riding my bike, releasing less harmful pollutants into the air. Two things that he as a father, grandfather, human being living in the North Hollywood area could appreciate. And yet he chose to fight me on the laughable notion that my bike was a fire hazard. He even went so far as to describe how I would block people from escaping this towering inferno when I, upon hearing the fire alarm, would not hesitate to lift up my bike and carry it down the stairwell thus blocking people from escaping safely from the raging blaze.
At this point my disdain for this man dissipated and I was struck dumb by his obsessively detailed description of how I would be the raise and ruin of everyone in the building because of my bicycle :/ my bicycle?
So in the end I wore him down and was allowed to keep my bike in my office for the day under the agreement that I bring a lock hence forth.
They should rewrite the book Anatomy of Conflict and include a section called quibbling with lazer guided stupidity
September 30, 2010
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I choose the New Car Smell
When I’m at the carwash and right before the guy hands me the payment slip he always asks,
“What scent would you like?” Even if I know what they are I always answer,
“What do you have?” And he always says something like Vanilla, berry something or other, pine, lemon and NEW CAR scent. New Car Scent?! Screw that!
I have smelled the new car scent and it does not smell like a new car. It smells like baby powder sautéed in rubbing alcohol, it smells like bitter fabric softener, definitely not a new car. It doesn’t even smell like a newish car. The point being, that I would never, ever choose new car smell. I would rather choose swift kick to the nuts; if that’s an option.
But it begs the question: In this time of technological prowess, first and foremost being our chemical engineering capabilities, why has no one been able to create that smell from scratch. I mean I would think that it’s not that hard being that you guys nailed the lemon, you got pretty close with the pine tree, the vanilla is right on. So what’s the hold up chemists? If I knew that when the car wash attendant said, “…and new car smell…” that it smelled like an actual-fresh-off-the-showroom-floor- with-the-plastic-seat-covers-lasts-for-a-month-or-so, new car smell, I wouldn’t hesitate. I would say (a little flabbergasted),
“Did you just ask me if I wanted new car smell…does a bear poop in the woods?”
In short, yes.
September 1, 2010
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You Write Up My Life
Although there have, for me, been a shortage of nods to frustrating albeit humorous modern societal piques as of late, I haven’t given up on you tumblr. And I just wanted to say i’m sorry.
However:
I did want to also give a nod to two of my favorites. No I will not tell you who they are because they do not know who they are either; nonetheless they’re glib wit is something to be relished. So cheers to you both. I raise my glass to the two lovely people that write up my life.
Sincerely,
Timm
April 27, 2010
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The yard stick of civilization
Freud said that soap (or rather cleanliness) is the yardstick of civilization. I think the true measure of society comes not from its cleanliness but from its most ridiculous iphone applications.
I was looking around the app store because I do enjoy the utility of the iphone. Maps, unit conversion, dictionary, internet for all other questions. But I was browsing the utility category and to my stark amazement. I ran across a translucent text/email messaging add on. Stay with me. It uses the phone’s camera to display on the screen what is on the other side of the phone. I’ll give you a second to let that sink in…
That’s right! A phone that shows a picture of what is in front of you. So that you don’t have to ever take your eyes off a text message again. It’s a portal or rather porthole to the outside world, for all you typing fiends that can’t seem to put the phone down long enough to walk somewhere. It’s for all these people who keep running into things while they text message and try as they might have been unable to think of anything to remedy this problem. But along comes a savior, a beacon of light in a hopeless abyss. The translucent text message screen! Have I gone mad? If I see someone using this I will literally run up and squat in front of their phone looking up at them and make a face that emphasizes the contempt and simultaneous pity I feel for them.
By the way how close are people holding this phone to their face? Is there a new phone attachment that doesn’t have blue tooth but instead a strip of Velcro that you attach to your forehead? People are saying, It’s a little hard to focus at first but you’ll get used to it.
Just to put myself in the shoes of these people I grabbed my phone, started to text someone and began walking around my apartment. I’ll be honest not easy but putting the phone down or just taking a seat seemed the most obvious solution to me. At no point did I say to myself, this is a problem. Help!”
Please don’t let me be cursed with children who use things like this. I swear I would pull a “Mosquito Coast” and move us down to South America into the jungle. Away from the things of man.
April 16, 2010
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Bathroom Hieroglyphs
One of the most challenging things to do in a modern hip city is find the bathroom… Gender specifically speaking. The last three lounge/speak easy places I’ve been to have had the same general rule with the bathroom signs; be as cryptic as possible. Particularly because I am the type of person who drinks two or three beers and tries to keep from breaking the seal as long as possible. But because I’ve done this it means that I also haven’t done any recon on the restroom situation. Is there a long line? Where is it? And of course the pivotal question once you arrive, what type of cryptic sign denotes which is the the men’s and which is the woman’s?
Sometimes they’re painted pictures or symbols. Sometimes they’re in another language. Sometimes I’ve seen just colors. Call me crazy but what if my favorite color is RED and I detest the color BLUE. I just charge right on forward operating on instinct and boom I end up in the woman’s bathroom.
Whoever chooses these signs must have had a laugh. I mean they know that people visiting the restroom may have other things on their mind and deciphering the hieroglyphs needed to enter is probably not what they were expecting.
For Example I could be pretty buzzed and the urge to let it go and let it flow is steadily becoming reactionary and less a conscious choice. And here I am looking at two monochromatic symbols. And I’m unlucky enough to be at a place on a slow night; no ones going in and on ones going out of the restroom. This spells trouble because taking an IQ test to get into the bathroom was not what I had planned on.
The other scenario is these bad pictures of gender specific characters. Sometimes the man looks a bit feminine and the female looks like a full blown transvestite and I start to wonder while I’m looking at them if there is a hidden message. Like the drag queen is actually the men’s restroom. Like the restaurant/bar owner was trying to make a statement on the societal gender status quo as relating to clothing choice. Which in it’s time and place is commendable. But here I am having to piss, racking my brain because I’m indecisive on which toilet is the right toilet for me.
I’m not what you might call multilingual but I know a few words in other languages. Unfortunately trying to dredge up information like that when you’re hammed and you have to pee very soon, do not make for a good combination.
Or say for a minute that it’s my first time at this hip little Mexican place in West Hollywood and I’m visiting from Norway and I don’t speak the language of the country I’m visiting let alone their southern neighbors language. And maybe I’ve had a couple of pints and I wander over to the two doors that read CHICO and CHICA. I try and ask the cute waitress but alas I don’t speak English and was never very good at charades, and then I piss myself out of sheer bewilderment and contempt for the design of the bathroom signs. Why you ask wouldn’t I just say F it and go into a bathroom to avoid pissing my pants.
That’s because urinating in your pants can be a learning experience.
April 4, 2010
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Because sometimes you just need to clean out your colon
Today I realized that people on Yelp are liars. Don’t believe everything you read on Yelp.
For example:
“Hey did you hear about the new restaurant, 15 people on yelp gave it 4 stars. I can’t wait to go try it.”
“Oh really? What menu items are people talking about in their comments?”
“People seem to love the dish dead babies. Which I know sounds totally bad. But I heard the dish is amazing.”
“Oh my god, yeah! 15 people, 4 stars? We have to go!”
Remember, people on Yelp do not know what they are talking about. They just know what they like. And just because some aspiring actor went to a Sweedish Deli for lunch and raved about it, doesn’t mean you will like it. What if he was meeting some producer there for lunch. Got told he was going to be starring in his first big production then after the producer left, he was feeling full of confidence and he hit on the waitress who then gave him her number and a hummer in the bathroom. And now he associates the sweedish deli with felacio and making it in the acting world. But I bet, If you stop in for an egg salad sandwich, you wont be getting either of the former.
Or just because some asspiring model who was craving a grilled cheese found one that doesn’t taste “belchy” when she’s ralphing it back up to stay skinng for the Noxima ad she landed doesn’t mean its the best in town.
Here’s a rule of thumb: don’t take advice from a guy named Carey about where the best machaca burrito is in LA. Carey is probably from Fargo, North Dakota and has never eaten mexican food. They could serve Carey boiled dog and he would be on Yelp raving about the uniqe blend of spices. Because Carey is new to the internet and he is easily excited. In fact the only thing that Carey is an expert on is how to get a great deal on a serious parka.
I don’t wanna come off sounding like a pissy little food connoisseur. Which I am not a connoisseur by a long shot but I do know what I like and have enough sense to know that not everybody is gonna get on board.
The point is get out there and be adventurous. Find your own little gem of a restaurant. Walk a street you never have before on a random Sunday and if the little joint on the corner with the quaint sign and funny door smells good give it a shot.
One more thing, Abgar in his $300 Ed Hardy custom print t-shirt driving his S600 Mercedes with ridiculously loud exhaust may know exactly what his taste buds are craving but he has no idea about yours.
March 9, 2010
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The Valentines Day Leper
My friend and I were joking around the other day about spending Valentines Day alone. She has managed to make it through her first one ever without any major hitches and she was telling me about it.
Another person I know went to your typical anti-valentines day dinners. Which is funny to me that we have this day that has become very segregated between couples and singles. Nevertheless, at this dinner there was a couple. The way she described them it sounded like they were trying to redefine PDA in a whole new way. Keep in mind this dinner she was at was advertised as a safe haven for single people.
Well I started thinking and decided I would like to try next year, with my girlfriend’s permission, alone. This is my idea:
I would go to a nice fine dining restaurant, specifically one with a valentines day menu. You know, with the cute appetizers and the main course you can share and the valentines day themed desert. It would be great because they really pack these places tight on V-day. So I would be sure to have a couple on both sides of me. I would make a reservation for two but when I arrived, I would say very casually.
“She couldn’t make it. Looks like it’ll be just me tonight.”
Picture the long booth along the wall with tables for two one after the other all the way down. Guy in the chair, lady on the booth side and then me. A kind of societal experiment if you will. Being that we are sitting so close, they might feel obligated to make conversation, beacuse i would initiate it. And I would talk about whatever came to mind completely interupting their romantic dinner.
I wonder though if it wouldn’t backfire and I would be like the leper that escaped from the colony. The obviously infected person who asks to drink from your water bottle. Everyone would feel so uncomfortable.
The ones that make the mistake of talking to me would say something pleasant like, “Mmm that looks good, I should have ordered the lamb.” And I would say,
“It is good and because I’m all alone it’s like an instant 50% off coupon.”
I would continue to initiate small awkward talk, to their complete dismay.
Before my 4th apple martini arrived I would ask this poor couple nearest my table if I could join them. And before letting them finish their answer, I would weezingly hiss out a laugh, observing that they are already within arms length. With that I would awkwardly reach for the gentlemens face. Not in a threatening way just in a very slow weird way. Remember this is a small place and fully booked, so it would be quite out of the question to be resat somewhere else.
Hopefully we would have the same waitor so that upon completing the meal I could demand that he had confused our bills and charged me the wrong amount. Once I had made an energetic addament pronouncement of my case I would again look at the amount of my bill and exclaim,
“My mistake, this is the right bill. It’s half as much as yours!”
At this point the manager would be at the bar, berating the bartender for over serving me and I would gracefully stagger out of the restaurant but not before enjoying my heart shaped strawberry mouse cake.
Yes this would be my single Valentines Day
February 26, 2010
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Coming Up Short
I heard recently about a guy who wrote a blog about how he was proud of having only 72 possessions. Which in theory is really cool. And what he’s trying to do is commendable but, 72 is a very arbitrary number and it begs the question: what counts as a single possession? For example if you own a TV do you count the remote control? Also he obviously owns a computer if he is posting a blog so is he counting the hard drive and the mother board and the mouse? It’s a whole quandary that starts to miss the original intent. Which is to limit material possession for the purpose of erasing disappointment and longing. Why not just go the extra 9 yards and get rid of everything but the clothes on your back. That would be an accomplishment. A fully liberated soul in search of nothing and wanting nothing. Except a computer and an internet connection to tell the world how liberated you’ve become.
The whole idea is like the guy who says he is “laid back” in fact he’s so easy going that he has to make note of it every 15 minutes to the point that you start to suspect that he may actually, in fact, be somewhat high strung. You may know the female counterpart of this person, she will claim to be totally low maintenance and so forth.
I guess what I am saying is that if you are going to be something don’t talk about it just be it. If it is profound it will stand out. You wont need to call attention to it.
February 20, 2010
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TVs in your headrests are a proclamation that you’re boring
So you want to get a DVD player in your car with screens for the people in the backseat implanted into the headrests; well before you go and cut a hole in your headrest remember, this will make you boring. It is a firm affirmation that you do not like yourself. It also strongly declares to people who ride in your car that you have nothing interesting to say and that you consider them on par with a three-year-old and would prefer that they be distracted by the a television screen.
That’s not to say that having a movie to watch on a long trip isn’t fun and helps to pass the time but that’s if you’re sandwiched between the obnoxious businessman with his super bright laptop and the morbidly obese cat lady who smells like cats and insists on crocheting one of her cats a neck warmer on an 8 hour flight to Delaware.
But if you’re lucky enough to be packed into a car with your closest buds on your way to your favorite watering hole for a night of drinks, spare us the first 10 minutes of Ghost. Conversation is the key. Lets face it car rides with people you know are way more fun if there is an attempt at interaction. So remember porn although fun is illegal to play in cars And its not that your friends don’t want to watch the indie docu-drama that you were a PA on it’s more that its just not the right time.
Save yourself a couple hundred to a couple thousand dollars and invest in a personality.
