Monday, September 26, 2011
Ever notice how in every black gangster movie/show (think New Jack City, The Wire), there's always some poignant, pivotal moment that takes place on a rooftop at night, overlooking the skyline, in which they reminisce about where they've been, and how far they've come? (Video...)
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
|That's the ticket...to the fiery bowels of hell.|
Is it wrong that when dating a girl, whether or not she has central air factors into my decision making re: whether or not I should keep seeing her? #seeyouinhell
Monday, September 19, 2011
As usual, science is late to prove what I've already known for years (http://iamthecurmudgeon.blogspot.com/2010/06/trial-by-firecrotch.html). In this case, ginger balls are undesirable. Proof. Bam! Here's the article:
Sunday, September 18, 2011
|I Googled "recycle," and this picture came up. Gotta love the human race...|
I keep a small garbage bag in my car, but whenever I finish a plastic bottle of water, I wait until I'm near a recycling bin to throw out the empty bottle instead of putting it in my car garbage. Sounds noble, right? But here's the thing, I can never really discern if I do it because I actually care about the environment, or because plastic bottles are really bulky and would require me to empty the car garbage with annoying frequency. Jury's still out.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
|"You trawwwmatized me, Rawnie."|
You know how you know it's probably time to end your relationship? When you're trying to explain something that's important to you for the millionth time because it's so clear and elementary to you that you need the other person to get it, but you've heard yourself give the same explanation so many times that you can't even stand the sound of your own voice anymore when those words escape your mouth. They're not gonna get it. They never will. Just move on.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Minimal reading. Enjoy the views:
|Where's Waldo?... Post-op edition.|
|A little late on the ejection, no?|
|"No, but seriously, is there any way you can stop slaughtering Jews?"|
|I love you, Mila.|
|Think you'd ever catch Kobe sitting on the ground, lacing his own sneakers?|
|Seriously, you guys. Some people can't even afford clothes. It's no joke.|
|How 'bout you, Sideburns?|
|(My little bro)|
|Get a room. Disgusting.|
|What a dick.|
|Probably just preparing Shabbat dinner...|
|Standard beach attire.|
|What a quince.|
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
|And that, boys and girls, is where we get the term "working girl."|
A couple final travel notes, and we'll mercifully put an end to me complaining about how awesome my life is.
First, the roads in Vietnam and Cambodia have fewer potholes than the roads in LA. America is dying.
Second, the Vietnamese fucking love to work. The whole trip, on every main street, down every alley, in every rice field, Vietnamese can be found toiling away in awesome conical hats. They don't look miserable or pissed off; they seem to take pride in getting shit done, and are the complete opposite of lazy. Of course, one could argue that in order to sustain a half-decent quality of life there, the residents have to work non-stop, and that's why you see 70-year-old women lugging impossibly heavy amounts of cargo over their shoulders through the crowded streets of Hanoi and Saigon. But I say, bullocks! You're being difficult. They love it. And here's proof:
My buddy and I were laughing about how every Vietnamese person we met worked so enthusiastically, when one of our Vietnamese tour guides started telling us about how he was getting excited for Tet, the Chinese/Vietnamese New Year. We asked him what people do to celebrate, and he said, "Well, it is, eh, quite fun. We take three days off, yes?..." So my friend and I looked at each other like, finally, some vacation for these guys! And then the tour guide went on, "...And we clean all the rooms, and plant the garden, and paint the house..." and I turned to my friend and said, "So they work." Unbelievable!
Anyway, here are a handful of pictures I took while on the trip, that me and my life partner managed to not be in, should you care to take a gander:
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Before our trip to Southeast Asia, my buddy and I were all like, "Dude, we're gonna hook up with tons of hot Asian chicks!" No we're not. They don't speak English. And the ones who don't care about verbal communication of any kind and are still willing to sleep with you, are whores. Literally. We're morons. (Re: whores, I wrote this before we left for Vietnam: http://iamthecurmudgeon.blogspot.com/2010/12/slipper-slopes.html .)
But it's okay, because once we realized this, we put our brilliant minds together and formulated an ingenious backup plan: hook up with lonely, horny travelers! Right? Am I right?! . . . Nope. Hot girls don't travel to Vietnam and Cambodia alone. They get taken to exotic beach islands where they get tanner and hotter. They don't give a shit about ancient temples and propaganda museums. Oh, you do care about temples? You're offended by this? Then you're not hot. Hot girls don't read. They don't have to.
Anyway, by, like, day three we were saying things like, "This is a mature trip; we'll learn a lot."
Thursday, September 1, 2011
|I'm the one on the right...|
I took this Southeast Asia trip I've been referencing with my best friend of over 20 years, and we were laughing about how everyone who sees us traveling together, just the two of us, probably assumes we're gay, especially given how close we are...and how we posed for a million pictures in matching, bright-colored hoodies while staying at a honeymoon-type resort in Koh Samui. Whatever. Shut up. It was beautiful. Anyway, we're laughing about it and he goes, "We're so not gay." Then he pauses and gets serious, "...We're not gay, right?" What an idiot.