Four Loko = Canned Roofie?

 

Four Loko canned roofie

After discovering that the so-called “banned” Four Loko drink is being sold at my nearest 711…the night slowly blurred out.  Of course seeing this cheap canned roofie would make me smile. So, allowing me to have a piece of my sloppy home-friends with me I proceeded to stock up.

 

Four Loko’s are almost like the devil and a shitty angel on your shoulder.  I feel as though you could get away with so much stuff if you just claimed the Four Loko made me do it. It somewhat makes me think of a gang initiation. For instance, the Four Loko’s made me drive to McDonalds and murder 20 nuggs.  The Four Loko’s also made me buy a pack of cigarettes and smoke half the pack. The Four Loko’s made me piss my bed. Ok this last one didn’t happen…or did it?

But if you’re looking to have a great time with little memory of it you should head out and pick up a 6-pack of Four Loko and put 5 of them in your fridge for a few rainy days. I sometimes wonder how much bad shit is actually in these giant cans and how they can taste so good and so bad at the same time. However, regardless of how bad they are for you there should always be room in your fridge for a couple. You can’t go wrong with a $2.99 can of devilish alcohol and you’ll really never know when your day calls to roofie yourself. Best be prepared.

Stupid, Lucky Fish

Have you ever stared at something as ridiculous as fish and thought to yourself “Fuck, these guys have it good?” My fish have it decent. I can’t say good because they have shitty owners who can’t even afford to clean their tank. Though they don’t know this, they swim around chasing each other without a care in the world. If there is such a thing as reincarnation I want to be born again as a little red tail shark.  Yes, their time span isn’t remotely close to as long as humans but they swim around carefree for their entire life. No bills, no drama, just swim time and eating. Sounds like an amazing life.

I have been thinking about getting a self help life type book…but fuck those people. Those people who write that shit are probably the ones who are sitting pretty and would never wish they were fish. The hardest “obstacle” they probably had to overcome was whether or not to get a coffee at 7Eleven or drive the extra few miles for a Starbucks “Triple upside down non-fat fucking latte.” Fuck that shit because 7Eleven coffee tastes pretty damn good in my mouth.

All in all I’m 27-years-old and have decided I suck at life. My life is like playing a board game against a deaf retarded blind guy and losing. I don’t know what else to do and quite frankly, this life shit drains me.  I’ve been working pretty steady since I’ve been in California and every time a large pay check comes a new outstanding bill kicks me in my happiness.

So as I sit here writing and staring at my red tail shark fish, I still wouldn’t mind trading places with either one of them; even the small one that the other three pick on.  Fuck him…that little bastard has it good. Now the vodka is gone and I can’t afford another bottle, so I will turn the light off in the fish tank and let those lucky bastards sleep in the dark for once because they deserve good slumber for the night. I’m jealous.

You know what really grinds my gears?

You know what really grinds my gears? It’s when you’re driving and let someone go in front of you and they don’t wave! Gimme a quick wave, a head nod, flash the lights, or even mouth the words “thank you.”  I think of it as a common courtesy that should come natural to human beings.  Maybe it’s just me but it ruins my day (well like 5 minutes of it) if you give someone the “ok” to turn in front of you or even walk in front of your car when you really don’t have to and the piece of shit doesn’t even acknowledge. I think you should be able to ram their car (and make them pay for the damage) or get out and beat the shit out them for being a rude asshole. I don’t get mad often but this is the worst. I hate ignorant people and they should all be shot.

 

In-N-Out Your Ass Burger picky eaters.

Today at work while sitting around I was asked to grab food for outside-of-my-company workers. I didn’t have much to do but sit and wait for a list for, of all places, In-N-Out Burger. The place where every tourist “needs” to go while visiting CA, and not going to lie, I was one of those people at one point. Anyway, in Hollywood, this place is hell to get a large order from because of all the tourists are swarmed there every night of the week. As I sit and wait for a long ass order that isn’t even going into my belly I start to look around at the people who are also waiting. My sick mind starts to think of how all of these people who are stuffing their face “Animal Style” will all suffer.  In-N-Out your ass.

Next, I realized I didn’t want to think about that grotesque thought and just started getting mad that I had to get people food, especially when they have extremely picky orders. When you’re eating fast food you might as well just eat everything it comes with. If you want to be picky about something…just pick it off and shut up.

The TV Guide Channel – Movie Killer

As scintillating as the TV Guide Channel is already, it chooses to play movies that were at one time…good. Well good in my mind good. So I know that the movie “Sweet November” is an obvious chick flick, but it is one of the many chick flicks I enjoy because the story is interesting and the concept is well thought out. Besides the fact that I enjoy this movie, I want to talk about how much it sucks to be played on the TV Guide Channel.  While all the channels scroll by the bottom quarter of the screen and grab more of your attention than the actual movie being shown; I find myself getting annoyed. It also makes you start to think “Why am I watching this movie when there are so many other options?”Options such as man movies!

I’m using Sweet November as an example for all the other movies that also get a kick in the ass from the TV Guide Channel. At this moment in time I began watching it but had to change the station due to this horrific scroll bar. Although this movie is almost 10-years-old and is probably only worthy of a TV Guide showing, I still think it kills the value of the movie. I think if they want viewers to stay on this channel they should just show porn. That is all.

Fish Depression Happens. Really?

It’s Saturday night and I ditch out on plans to sit in watching TV and stare at my four remaining shark fish. As my mind completely floats away from the movie I’m watching I begin to analyze what these shark fish are thinking. I start thinking how much it must suck to be one of my shark fish. We have already lost three in two weeks of having this tank. Apparently they died of a disease but I think it was suicide. My roommate and I have different work schedules and sometimes don’t see each other for entire weeks, so we would end up feeding these shark fish about four times a day (not knowing the other had been feeding them as well). After doing research on fish we found that they can get depressed from overeating. Fuck! Really? Fish depression happens. However, I don’t know what site we were looking on but it was probably a site that is more full of shit than I am. 

So, as I sit and wonder how we can’t even take care of tiny shark fish I start to realize that I am surrounded by a pile of depressed animals. Yes, I know fish aren’t technically animals but when they are pets you can call them that to make yourself feel better for owning fish. We now have four nameless depressed shark fish and suicide cat who roams outside. This is all weird because the three shark fish we named committed suicide to what I believe to be from depression, and suicide cat is still up to no good. What’s next? Even our robotic dog isn’t working up to par. If you have animals please don’t bring them to my place because animal depression is common disease in Little Armenia.

RIP. Bicos, Georgie, and Valure’.

There’s a laundry monster or I’m losing my mind

Every week like every normal person I do my laundry. My dirty clothes go into my one and only laundry basket which I carry downstairs to my one and only washing machine. After roughly 45 min of my laundry being washed I take my clothes and throw them into my one and only dryer. Again, like a normal person. Before shutting the dryer door I do a quick search in the washing machine for any stray articles of clothing I may have overlooked. Nothing left but a lonely machine awaiting its next customer, so onto the drying. I make sure everything makes it into the dryer and 60 minutes later I’m ready to retrieve. Carefully taking each piece of clothing out while folding the shirts, the pants, and tossing my boxers and socks into the basket to sort while I’m upstairs watching Sportscenter or Jeopardy. Again, before leaving I double check the dryer for strays (I leave nothing behind for the Armenians.)

This is when it gets weird. One sock and his pair, cool. Another sock and another pair, awesome. After all of my sock couples are matched up…I find singles. What the fuck I say. Where is your mate? This isn’t cool anymore. Did the laundry monster get the best of me again? After countless minutes of double checks and laundry preparation I have fallen victim to the laundry monster once again. I still can’t decide if it’s the washing machine or dryer but I am sure that they work as a team to feed on weak socks unable to defend themselves in the madness of the spin cycle. It’s getting to the point where I am thinking about just wearing flip flops for awhile to save my remaining sock couples from suffering another loss. But, who will win in this battle? Do I give up my foot warmth and comfort and take defeat against the machines? Or do I stop doing laundry drunk? Those are the issues I deal with daily.

LA people are weird, LA sign spinners are weirder

So I’ve noticed since living in LA that a lot of people are employed by stores to hold signs outside. I’ve also noticed that they don’t just hold them, they dance to music on their ipods while spinning these signs around that are shaped like arrows. Now, I don’t know all about but the physics of sign making but I’m assuming these arrow shaped signs spin better than square shaped ones because some of them are really good. Makes me think. There must be a sign spinning school for over achievers.  But, regardless of what size sign they are holding or how good they are…what is the motivation to dance and smile only to look ridiculous. I can’t imagine anyone in their right mind being super excited to stand outside a Domino’s for hours at a time and keep the excitement of spinning an awkwardly shaped sign around to people who don’t care. I might be able to last 3 seconds before realizing that I look stupid would rather be extremely poor than to allow myself to be a dancing sign spinner. I don’t know what they get paid but I’m thinking they might get minimum wage plus drugs to keep the happiness going day by day. LA is strange enough on its own without having these weird people galivanting around the streets.

Verizon Commercial I worked on.

I have axed the post “Meet Jack’s jacked up bumper” post due to popular demand of my bad storytelling…so instead I will just throw up this Verizon commercial I worked on. One of my favorite shoots yet with great locations. I’ve posted the 60 second long version. However, the 30 second one received great reviews. Check that one out as well.

Suicide Cat

I have officially named the neighbor’s cat “Suicide Cat.” Not because she tries to commit suicide on a regular basis…oh wait, yes, that is exactly why I named her that.

This cat is so miserable or just extremely stupid that when I drive down my driveway she bolts in front of my car. And then she stops and looks. Then she bolts in front the car again, or just walks slowly. There are so many places in the shade for a small cat to sit and hang out around our building. Suicide Cat is not among the smartest of felines because her spot of choice is in the middle of the driveway where she sweats under the sun awaiting cars to run her over. It’s another one of her suicidal strategies I assume. However, in some ways I like this cat because she makes me laugh (sometimes) and with my strange humor I put a voice over to her actions. “Hit me…fuck no I change my mind, ok hit me, do it, no shit ahhh I will run away now.” Her famous move is the “lets hide underneath the car when people are backing up move.” I wish this move had a shorter name, but I didn’t write the book of suicidal cat moves. Anyway, she loves this move and I most certainly do not.

Now I have no clue which neighbor (or in our little Armenian village, which family of 12) this cat belongs to. But that doesn’t even matter because I don’t know what Armenians belong to each-other either. Anyway, Suicide Cat is always outside meowing at me. Night and day.  So, naturally I pat Suicide Cat’s head all the time and tell her that her little cat life is good and that she doesn’t need to play suicidal games. I also tell her that if she really is trying to kill herself than JUST FUCKIN DO IT YOU RETARDED CAT… and let me back out of my parking spot without having to worry about running over a retarded cat.