I'm Serious. I'm Kidding.

After this morning’s earthquake I realized I would only be a hindrance upon anyone who scooped me up to try and brave a dangerous situation, a natural disaster, or the end of the world with them.  This is me just exuding unselfish sacrifice. Even though I’m doing something that any compassionate normal human would do, I have severe entitlement issues, so please, thank me for this. If you want to survive something, stay as far away from me as possible, I am a danger to myself and more than likely worthless to you. What made me aware of this is when I woke up at 6:25 AM this morning thinking I was dreaming then noticing that I was in a window rattling, shaking, somewhat moist bed bedroom real life earthquake. It wasn’t like other ones which I had either slept through, or felt like I was a happy drunk just swaying to a Monkees song.  It wasn’t a pleasant shake, it was a terrifying one. It was violent, which I can only describe as what a baby probably feels like moments before they ar

I have a relationship with the clerk in the store where I buy my beef jerky and copenhagen—I mean where I buy my quinoa and acai. I’m in there about twice a week  and have been going to this store for  basically the entire time I’ve lived in LA.  We aren’t wordsmiths towards each other, but we have facial recognition and the “Hey! How are you? Good to see you.” down pat.  Yesterday something happened. He rung me up (I got a cherry blow pop that he didn’t charge me for) I swiped my card because plastic makes it easier to believe that you aren’t spending anything. I grabbed my bag of Colt 45 and two zig zags* (I mean because baby…that's all I need)—I mean, organic bananas and almonds, I turned about 35 degrees, got one foot up ready to take a step when he mumbled to me. He either said, “How about that plane?” “Crazy about the plane.” “What do you think about that plane?” Till this day I don't and do not believe I’ll ever know what he initally said. I just kind of

I received an Amber Alert* on my phone today. I'd appreciate it if my phone gave me  an alert when it is called off. Like, do I still have to look for a Blue Toyota 4Runner with the license plate starting with 6BUS8…? Because I've been doing so since September.**                                                                                                                * They found the boy, his mom took him.                                                          **4Runner kid…still looking…I think…I dunno... THEY NEVER LET ME KNOW So on top of the fear of getting a high boarding zone number, a middle seat, and a 5 year old in the seat behind me, I now have to fear my flight just disappearing… Amelia Earhart style? The drum solo in  In the Air Tonight . I mean…that drum solo, though…  If I could give any twenty-something who has newly joined the American workforce one piece of advice, it would be to make sure you give your mother your office phone number.

REPRESSED MEMORIES Lately a lot of repressed memories have been coming back to me. Just randomly, at inopportune times, like in the dentist chair, talking to my boss, urinating... I don't know why it's happening, but it's happening. Maybe it's because I'm turning 30 this year, maybe it's because I've been listening to a lot of You Made It Weird with Pete Holmes podcast episodes. Here are a few that have resurfaced within the last year or so. My Adoption It's not the actual adoption that I've repressed, it's the fact that my mother never sat me down and told me I was adopted. Of course   like now I officially know that I was and what went down, but when I was little, little kid? She never spoke of it. I mean, I guess lucky for her that she was right when she assumed that I could take a look at the whole context of the situation and realize that "hey, I don't think I came from my mom's tummy, I mean, she's 53 years older tha