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

  • Movies to See:
    Mission Impossible
    A Dangerous Method

  • TV Shows to Watch:
    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


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


The Daily Beast

The Onion

The Colbert Nation


The Daily Show with Jon Stewart

For Entertainment

Ain't It Cool News


Rotten Tomatoes

DVD Active

Movie Stinger


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

April 2003

May 2003

June 2003

July 2003

August 2003

September 2003

October 2003

November 2003

December 2003

January 2004

February 2004

March 2004

April 2004

May 2004

June 2004

July 2004

August 2004

September 2004

October 2004

November 2004

December 2004

January 2005

February 2005

March 2005

April 2005

May 2005

June 2005

July 2005

August 2005

September 2005

October 2005

November 2005

December 2005

January 2006

February 2006

March 2006

April 2006

May 2006

June 2006

July 2006

August 2006

September 2006

October 2006

November 2006

December 2006

January 2007

February 2007

March 2007

April 2007

May 2007

June 2007

July 2007

September 2007

November 2007

January 2008

March 2008

April 2008

May 2008

June 2008

July 2008

August 2008

September 2008

October 2008

November 2008

December 2008

January 2009

February 2009

March 2009

April 2009

May 2009

June 2009

July 2009

August 2009

September 2009

October 2009

November 2009

December 2009

January 2010

February 2010

March 2010

April 2010

June 2010

August 2010

November 2010

December 2010

February 2011

April 2011

May 2011

July 2011


Sunday, September 21, 2008  
Lost in Transition Part I: Escape from L.A.
Being the hopeless nostalgic I am, I create attachments to the simplest and most mundane of things and experiences, as well as to to objects and people of (some) substance. As some of you may have figured out by now, I am no longer on the West Coast. Indeed, I have migrated to the wilderness of the East Coast for some reason. As such a transition is a big deal for yours truly, being that I had lived in the same room for the past 14 years, my final two weeks in Los Angeles were filled with needless, in most cases, anxiety and nostalgia. I attributed emotion to things that need not be attributed any emotion in the slightest. My last time pumping gas, my last time going to the Beverly Center (the ugliest man-made structure on the western seaboard) and my last time going to the 99 cent store. Some things garnered meaning for me over the years because of the routine of them such as sitting in my black rocking chair and waking up to my mom listening to NPR on Sunday mornings. Other things such as my mother's cooking and general mode of take-care-of-my-problems, as well as my beloved Mustang and the usual LA hangouts still bring me their share of panic attacks today.

As I was saying goodbye to the city I grew up in, aspects of the city seemed to be bidding me adieu in their own respects. My final trip to the 99 Cent Store in preparation for my goodbye party was lackluster as it usually is, despite the candy. However, one thing LA is never short on is the crazies, religious and secular alike. Keeping with that theme, an older Hispanic lady was shopping and at the same time discussing Jesus with other customers of the fine institution. Hearkening back to my days of riding the MTA buses in highschool, whenever a particularly mentally afflicted individual would ride the bus (as was the case on every single ride, no exception) and would proceed to talk to themselves and/or others, the typical mode of conduct was to either sit elsewhere on the bus or pretend to read. This was before the age of iPods, you see so that was not a viable source for avoidance. In any case, at the 99 Cent Store that afternoon, I observed the aforementioned woman berating customers and then speaking in tongues quite loudly. Normally, I would veer away from such unsavory individuals, but this time, I stood in wait, hoping she would come talk to me and lend me her wisdom...

"Do joo believe in Jesus?!"
"Yes, of course I do!"
"You know de Jesus die for jor sins?"
"I know!!"
"He is our lord n' savior!"
"I know!"
"Through heem do we find de salvacion!"
"I know!!!!!"
"Heekala bena shakala"

As she imbued me with her magic air cross and spoke to me in tongues while I was squeezing avocadoes, what normally would induct me with anxiety and overwhelming feeling of awkwardity now filled me with a sense of some kind of twisted accomplishment. (Author's Note: Since when did the word "awkward" become the default term to refer to any situation. The saying "awwwkwaaard" has grown in usage and needs to be stopped.) I have grown to relish in these sorts of situations as of late. I know it takes some degree of exploitation of other people but realistically, I am not mocking these people, I am just relating to them on a different level that I do not normally inhabit.

If I was seeking to escape the population of the crazy, nuts and all messed up, I picked the absolutely wrong city to do so in. From the Jamaican lady at Rite-Aid on Broadway and 100th screaming, "Open up another till mahn! This is bullsheet! Stohp slackin!" to the man growling like a dog while eating a sandwich in Columbus Circle to the obese wheelchair mafia at Target in the Bronx to my Artistic Lives of Children professor who has me dance with a scarf to the sweet girl at Teachers College who greeted me by saying, "I just really wanted to meet you," there is no shortage of all levels of blissful crazy in this town.

I want to be a part of it - New York, New York,
These vagabond shoes, are longing to stray
Right through the very heart of it - New York, New York.

11:43 PM


This page is powered by Blogger.Humor Blog Top Sites