Monday, March 22, 2010

More Thoughts

I ordered a sandwich from Subway today, on their bread called "Italian Herb and Cheese." I said it kinda fast, so it sounded like "Italian Urban Cheese." I instantly imagined a piece of Parmesan dressed up with shades and a backwards cap saying something like "eat fresh, y'bitches!" I then wondered why he didn't have his own TV show already.

I get sad knowing trees can never climb themselves.

I live in LA, so I spend a lot of time driving. Whenever dealing with incompetent assholes on the road, I've started giving them a stern finger wag of disapproval. It definitely enrages people more than a dismissive middle finger, which instantly makes me the winner.

I want to open a boutique in outer space called "Orion's Accessories: More Than Just Belts!"

Whenever strangers dial the wrong number and end up calling me, why don't they believe anything I say? They really think they called the person they intended, and they're pretty annoyed that I'm not cooperating.
"Well," a peeved woman once said to me, "this is definitely my grandma's number, so I'm just trying to figure out what you're doing there."
Then they always ask me to recite my number, and get shocked when it's not what they dialed. How could that end any other way? It's as if they're waiting for me say "you're totally right; I was just trying to make you think you did something wrong! That's how I get my jollies! Don't worry, you've still never made any mistakes ever!"

No matter how poetic you think it might sound, "where are you in your moons?" is not a great way to start a date.

I don't want to lose an arm. I use my arms, like, every day. But if I did lose one, I'd want to make a prosthetic arm entirely out of those Crayola Skin Tone Crayons. I could get a pretty close color match, and any surface I touch could become a drawing. I'd just have to stay away from the top two crayon killers: hot cars and kindergarten classes.

What does "Casual Friday" look like for the employees of a strip club? It's hard to imagine them doing their thing in Hawaiian shirts and khakis.

While driving the other day, an old man was very slowly turning into the lane beside me. His eyes and skin were all droopy and sad; it looked like he was barely alive. Finally, his car crept up beside mine, and he looks right at me. He then snapped his face back to life with a huge exaggerated grin and wide-open eyes, as if to say "Fooled ya, asshole!" And now he is my hero.

There's a guy named Julio who works in the cubical behind me. He's very laid back and soft-spoken, with the tiniest hint of an accent. One day he came to my desk and very plainly asked "do you like positive reinforcement?" I said "yes." "Do you like notes?" he asked. I said "yes." He nodded, and went back to work. Ever since then, he's been periodically writing me complimentary words on small post-it notes, folding them up, and tossing them over his cube to land in mine. Here's a sampling:

"You've got a way about's amazing!"

"There is no doubt that the person you are makes the air sweeter."

"Get on with your bad self, you crazy young stud of a king!"

"The growth of a beautiful rose is based on your emotions."

The best so far:

"Nobody puts those happy pants on better than you."

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