Neat-o

After signing up for this blog yesterday I thought about it a little more and can't help but feel like...why are blogs still around?  I remember them being popular a long time ago, but I just never had interest in getting one until now.  Seems like they are still going strong though.  Its interesting how some things come in and then disappear so quickly and other things just stick around.  People have been saying things like "cool" and "awesome" forever it seems like and they don't get old.  Same with phrases like "keen" and "neat-o"...which both still play a major role in my every day vocabulary.  And then you have those fads you remember from when you were younger.  Things that come to mind are pogs, and snap bracelets, and Lisa Frank school supplies, and turquoise stirrup pants.  Ok, maybe the turquoise stirrup pants were just me, but hey...I rocked them and I rocked them proud. This should give you a pretty good idea of what time frame I was a kid.  If you have never heard of pogs or snap bracelets or Lisa Frank you are probably super old or super young.  Bummer.

Being a kid was the best.  Remember when gym class was actually fun?  I have alwasy been athletic, but man did gym class become a drag once you got to like middle school / high school.  Except for senior year.  We got to pick our own activities which included canoeing and bowling.  (Aka smoking pot on the scummy river behind our school in a canoe and eating cheese fries while watching the bowling nerds throw down strikes at the lanes while refusing to put those disgusting shoes on)  Well, now that I say it like that it doesn't sound so bad.  I do remember one gym teach from when I was really young, probably 2nd or 3rd grade.  He was your typical somewhat older disgruntled teacher who probably hadn't been laid since the 80's, had a perfectly imperfect comb over, drank scotch or possible rye whiskey in between classes and put the fear of god in you if you did not perform to his liking in dodge ball.  I remember one time I stubbed my thumb really bad and it was bleeding under the nail so I asked him if I could go to the nurse.  He then suggested instead, that he hit one of my other fingers with a hammer.  That way I wouldn't notice my bleeding thumb anymore.  At first I thought he was joking, but then after holding an awkwardly long staring contest to decide, I decided he was not. He of course didn't actually end up hitting me with a hammer.  He did however end up getting fired after throwing an older student against the wall later that year.  Public school is the best. Middle school didn't get much better. Getting away from the gym class, on my first day I was in social studies goofing around with my friends as usual when the teacher told me to be quiet. I of course did not listen and continued to talk.  She just didn't understand...there were some major plot twists happening on Boy Meets World that I needed to speak to someone about. So we continued our conversation until the teacher rudely interrupted again.  This time she seemed a little upset. I knew she was upset, you see, because she told me if I didn't stop talking she was going to jump over the desks and stab me in the throat with my own pencil.  That was what tipped me off that she was upset.

So, thanks to a slew of crazy ass teachers I assumed from a young age that people in roles of authority were all insane and trying to kill me. Excellent.

I'm getting ansy.  Time to go see if I have any pogs around to play with, that'd be neat-o

My First Blog

I am not sure how I got here.  I was about to post something on my Twitter account and was engraged when I reached my 140 characters so quickly and next thing I know, I have a blog.  And I don't remember what I wanted to post so badly to Twitter.  So now I am not sure I have anything to say.

Who am I kidding..I always have something to say.  I have never had a blog before. I'm thinking I'll enjoy it.  I have a lot to say and don't care if people listen or not.  I also don't like listening in return to other people so this is an excellent format.  One way conversation.  

So, today I went to Subway for lunch.  I made the mistake of going to the subway on Vermont though, which is right in between a socially acceptable area and the ghetto.  In LA that means you will have a solid mix of the following: Asian families with 5 screaming children who all want to go to McDonalds instead, a group of 13-16 year old Mexican kids who think they are in a gang which only seems to hang out outside of fast food establishments smoking their parents’ USA Gold menthols, and overly aggressive homeless people who don’t bother with the whole bum on the curb routine, they go right in and ask for money from you while you are ordering your Spicy Italian sub.  This particular visit to Subway I was also graced by the stereotypical enormous man who is completely counterproductive in coming to Subway in the first place.  Most people go to Subway because they want a healthier, less greasy option for fast food.  He apparently is not one of those people.  I don’t know what type of subs he got (yes, plural…he got two foot longs for himself) because I could not see anything underneath the 3 pounds of condiments he had them put on each one.  “Lotsa mayo, lotsa mustard, lots and lotsa southwest, some ranch, wait, yea more ranch and lotsa lotsa sweet onion sauce.”  Were his exact words.  And let’s not forget his enraged last statement, “You don’t have tha barbeque sauce that I wants on them!”  When he sat down to eat them it was a moment similar to watching a car crash.  You know if you keep watching it could be pretty gruesome but your brain is not intelligent enough to look away.  My brain was no exception.

I still can’t look at the condiment shelf in my fridge.