Like: Gen-u-ine Police.

This may sound inanely stupid, but I’ve actually rediscovered a sense of respect for police officers.

Many people have grown up with that sense of respect, but a good deal more fall into juvenile sentiment I Illustrated in the post below. It’s the typical suburban thing where they don’t see the actual service that Police provide the community. Kids just see annoying old jerks who are trying stop them from having fun. These kids also don’t see that they’re pretty lame… Of course, I was once one of those kids.

The other thing is we’ve lost what it truly means to be a police officer in the myriad of bullshit cop shows where you have to be psychic, or a genius, or a complete antagonistic retard, or David Caruso. They are all fake identities that has no bearing on real life and give no insight into what it means to be a good police officer. And people look at real gen-u-ine police and see them as not measuring up.

Being a true police officer, is a dignified position if there ever was one. It’s a genuine public service and one that suburban America has completely forgotten about.

Of course, the distractions for police officers are well-documented: the shift of focus from service to stat busting, bullshit drug rips, career-first thinking, racism, etc (and that’s what they are, distractions from doing the job right). The corruption of urban police forces is indeed a reality, but one that is vastly over-represented and over-suspected within the community. A suspicion that often can overshadow and even put limits on the effectiveness of said Police. (quick note, statistically/IA, the best police officers are African-American).

But to all the Gen-u-ine POlice who protect and serve and do their jobs to the best of their abilities, I thank ya kindly.

Like: That Every Day, Some Individual Looks Up My Blog Under the Search Term: “Fuck Her” and Clicks On It … EVERY DAY

I don’t know who you are random blog reader, but I find your devotion to this blog incredible and commendable. But what I do find odd is your use of the search term “fuck her” repetitively. Is there some kind misogynistic thing going on? Perhaps instructional? Or is it a simple way of finding my blog? I don’t even know how that gets you to my blog anyhow, but apparently it does.

I find this whole saga fascinating, please dutiful reader, clarify your intentions to me! I thank you!

Don’t Mind (New Category!): Going #2 At Work

“Love means sneaking down to the Burger King below his building to use the toilet!” - Jane Krakowski on last night’s 30 Rock.

I’m at the age in my life were I’m starting to care less and less about social fears. And let’s be honest, the issue of pooping at work doesn’t deal with social modesty, it’s social fear. Everybody poops so the saying goes and yet there’s still this ridiculous social fear of pooping within a 20 mile radius of someone you know. I know a litany of people who would rather pass a stone then poop with a known person in the vicinity. For some reason, this is mistaken for social modesty; like the idea to do anything but behave like this is gross and uncouth. Chances are someone reading this who knows me is even a little uncomfortable/completely grossed out by this post.

Yes, pooping is gross. It’s also occasionally funny in movies depending on level of inanity. Moreso, everybody does it and the idea that I should be shamed for really having to go to the bathroom kinda sucks. Screw that. I don’t worry about it. I go. I do my business. I don’t advertise. But I refuse to walk back the other way so people don’t think I pooped. Tons of people do that and I refuse. It’s like 4X’s the distance.

Bookstore Guy: “Well there’s Everybody Poops, the less popular Nobody Poops But You” Peter: “Well, we’re Catholic” Bookstore Guy: “Oh well, you want You’re a Naughty Child and that’s Concentrated Evil Coming Out The Back of You” - Family Guy

… I was raised Catholic.

Don’t Like: The Just For Men ads where two little girls go up to their father and tell him he needs to get back into the dating game again after their mother has died and use Just For Men to get rid of his graying hair

[Rolls eyes] I mean COME ON. REALLY????

I have a surprisingly high threshold for fluff, but the whole thing plays like it’s sweet as sugar cookie pie but for HAIR DYE. COME ON. That’s vomit-inducing.

[Throws chair against the wall]

Like: My Non-Fear of Public Speaking

I never considered myself the the most socially comfortable person. If anything, I’d say I’m pretty comfortable not saying anything in a group. But for some insane reason the prospect of going up in front of a group and talking doesn’t bother me whatsoever. Considering that Public Speaking is rated the number one fear of Americans (who are often the very people much more comfortable talking in groups than I), I have no real explanation for why this is the case.  I’ve seen ridiculously intelligent, dignified, and poised people lose their taters when speaking in front of a crowd. Whereas, I’ve never really been drawn to the spotlight. I hate note cards. I don’t like reading from things. I never really plan my actual words (reciting a speech is much more difficult to do) I more just plan the points I want to make and the subjects I want to cover.  And if I do that well, I can get up there and do extremely well. No matter what level of comfort I may have in the seconds before, I suddenly shift into auto-pilot and “on” mode. Maybe its the fact I have a genuine purpose when I have to speak publicly. Maybe I like having something to say.

Or maybe you’re all stupid and can’t talk and I’m a genius.

… Maybe not.

Also Don’t Like: Puking for 7 hours. Cause that’s what I did today.

 

Yay food poisoning!

 

Also note: Above figure is for the “toilet snorkel”

It makes no sense here but I love it. 

Don’t Like: My Gym

[above picture not my gym, I just find it slightly amusing]

I hate everything about my gym. Starting with the parking. The parking structure was recently named one of the five angriest parking lots in LA by Patton Oswalt. And deservingly so. First off there’s always a line to get in. Once in, no lie, every single spot is a un-labeled compact. And half the people drive SUVs and take up sometimes 2 (or 3!) spots carelessly. Coupled with the fact it’s 5 stories high with giant speed bumps that scrape the bottom of my car. Seriously, I have to go over them at an angle every time. Then driving path is so skinny that 2 cars cannot fit going in opposite directions. Add to that there is NO ONE keeping track of how full it is and 5 times in my history of attending the lot was full and the cars had to turn around at the top… only we couldn’t cause there were several cars in the same position and we had to BACK DOWN out of the garage. Why not just park outside? Cause it’s located right near Sunset Blvd and unless you get there at 3 in the afternoon there’s not an available space for a good 8 blocks. But the parking lot is so bad I often do just that and walk.

So in the amazing possibility I actually get into my gym, I have to then… be in my gym. First I enter the locker room so I can lock up my bag. Which is always fun because I get to have some huge fat guy bend over and tea bag my elbow. This occurs with alarming regularity. And it’s always the nastiest person possible. On the whole, it’s the ugliest gym in America I assure you. Not that I’m a fan of meat market gyms. Not at all. But this is basically the hauntingly ugly version of a meat market. I have stories of that make your hair stand up including the “guy without a skull”. Gulp.

Most of the equipment is actually fairly decent. Which is great only I just use a treadmill and free weights. It seems like every week there’s a treadmill replaced by an elliptical and me and the 7 other runners are fighting over the treadmills along with the latina nannies who walk on them and read the spanish version of “Us” magazine. What’s also funny about the treadmills is that there are TVs on them. Usually I’m running at a speed which would make watching tv impossible without puking on my feet, but I don’t enjoy watching tv while running anyway. It’s distracting. Last night there was a treadmill with a broken TV and people wouldn’t use it. It went down 7 people in line for treadmills and finally to me, so I went towards it and this woman stopped “No! The tv’s broken!” She was completely serious I shit you not. It was amazing. I went up and started running and people were looking at me like I was nuts.

Onto the free weights! This is usually the least problematic part of my workout except the only people apparently to qualify for these weights are Roid-Heads. Legit Roid-Heads. What gym has 8 sets of the 100 lbs dumbells and and 1 set of 35 lbs? Roid head gyms, that’s who. These guys scream routinely as they lift/shrink their balls. Sometimes I’ll sit there and watch what goes on in some kind of hidieous train wreck of acne/veiny armed proportions. The interactions between these dudes have to be seen to be believed. It’s like hynotoad.

Also the air quality is at a level on the scale I like call, “Industrial Chinese City”

When I finish I go get my bag, get someone’s ass/nuts slathered on me then go walk 8 blocks in the surprisingly chilly night air and catch a cold.

So why do I go through all this? You guessed it. I’m in a fake family deal and pay less that 20 bucks a month.

Beat that fuckers.