The Jazzy Bahsoun

Life's our oyster and we're gonna suck that bitch down with a champagne chaser.

Behavioral Therapist
MA Developmental Psychology, Columbia
BS Psychobiology/ French, UCLA

Shelfari: Book reviews on your book blog

Movies to See:
Mission Impossible
Haywire
Shame
A Dangerous Method
Underworld:Awakening

TV Shows to Watch:
Portlandia
The Life & Times of Tim

Book to Read:
Game of Thrones
by George R.R. Martin

Album to Listen to:
The Black Keys
El Camino

Person to Hate:
Newt Gingrich

Group of People to Despise:
Fox & Friends

Bitchin Links

Blogs and Writers of Note

Mary's Website

Mary's Blog

Ravi's Blog

Lauren's Blog

Cheryl's LiveJournal

TV Squad

The Soup

Cracked

Best Week Ever

The Chive

On Location Vacations

Cute Overload

Michael Moore's Blog

Joel Stein Columns

Maureen Dowd Columns

Secular Coalition of America

Richard Dawkins

Personal Stuff

My Facebook

My Twitter

My YouTube Videos

My DVD Collection

My Books

Machatz Self-Defense

For Politics and Political Satire

The Huffington Post

Salon.com

Politico

The Daily Beast

The Onion

The Colbert Nation

Truthdig

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart

For Entertainment

Ain't It Cool News

IGN

Rotten Tomatoes

DVD Active

Movie Stinger

AdTunes

The Daily Wav

Movie Mistakes

For Humor and Other Things

HuffPost Comedy

Funny or Die

The Lonely Island

Shit My Dad Says

F My Life

Daily Python

College Humor

Super Mario Crossover

People of Walmart

E-Mails from an Asshole

Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster

God Checker

Church Sign Maker

Strong Bad Email

Japander: See Actors Embarrass Themselves Abroad

Landover Baptist Church: Jesus Loves You Sometimes

For Bruins

The Daily Bruin

Bruins Nation

Bruin Basketball Report

UCLA Bruin Marching Band: The Solid Gold Sound

The REAL $UC Application

Old Stuff

March 2003
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Monday, March 14, 2005
Ay Dios Mio...This is Awkward......
I further justified my affiliation with the Facebook group "Awkward..." which proclaims, "...for anyone who often finds themselves in awkward situations, conversations, or circumstances. This group is also for anyone who believes awkwardness defines their life, or anyone who finds awkward situations entertaining."

Friday after class at around noon I strolled over to lot 6 (beating the parking officer who would've given me yet another ticket for going 10 min over my alloted time..ha) and when I turned on my Jetta, the CD player, one of the only things left standing in my desheveled car, does not turn on. The blinking red and blue lights do not flicker to life to let me know that I will be listening to my burned U2 CD on my way home. If that weren't bad enough, I realized I had to drive home (about a 30 min. drive) in complete silence. So I drove. I hummed a little. I opened my window. I closed my window. Then I thought I should go over to the Good Guys at the Beverly Connection where I had originally bought the CD player.

I park and I go to the customer service desk to ask them if they had my purchase on file (and in turn my warranty) so they could print it out and I could go to the car installation guys in the parking lot to get my CD player fixed. As she was searching she asked when I had bought the CD player. I remembered it was in the Summer of 2002 because it was a graduation gift from my mom. As she's searching, I yawned...and right then, a fruitfly flew into my mouth and down my throat. Right as this happens, the customer representative lady begins to recite the Good Guys policy about warrantys and car stereos. I begin to choke just as she begins to tell me the intricacies of the elaborate Good Guys system. I cough, and I cough, and I cough, and I tear up and, I imagine my face turns red, and the lady's face begins to look more and more disgusted because she must think I have Malaria or the Black Death that I would then pass onto her. I didn't... I swallowed a fruit fly. When she's done with her proclamation, I just nod and belch out a, "Excuse..m... me." She nods, as if acknowledging that I was diseased. "S...sSank you"

I rush to my car to find something to replenish my damaged vocal cords. I find a box of Altoids (always my saving grace) and down about 4. I go over to the car installation garage and the kindly Victor says I can get it fixed out of warranty for $25. Fair enough. I leave my car there and head down to Jamba Juice to receive an antidote to my reddened and sweating face, exhausted by the choking episode I had just survived.

Now if I were not prone to unbelievably awkward situations, I would have arrived at the same result as I am at now: with a repaired CD player. But it would've been through a wholly different (and some might say less exciting) journey, if you will.

For it is not the goal that you reach that matters, but the journey that takes you there.

Besides, how sexily vulnerable must I have looked to the customer service representative of the Good Guys as I regurgitated the deceased insect.

It would've been much cooler if it was still alive though.
3:29 PM
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