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Another day, another mothereffing earthquake. If we get one more of these, I may pack my bags and head back to Oklahoma where people are safe from danger (except for tornadoes, meth addicts & nothing to do). Want to hear my exciting account of the earthquake? Well, buckle the fuck up, brother!

I was sitting in my living room with my laptop and noticed the chandelier & windows blinds were swaying back and forth. At first, I just dismissed it as the wind. My roommate and I routinely leave all of our windows open so we can enjoy that cool Southern California breeze which brings with it the fresh scent of lilac and jasmine and love. But then, I realized all the windows were closed. Did you read that? ALL THE WINDOWS WERE CLOSED!!!

I then did what I do with every earthquake I’ve felt. I sat there debating whether or not to get up and do anything and by the time I decided to do something, which was go stand by the door of my apartment (for some reason), the earthquake was done. I was left feeling a little bit nauseous after the fact, too. True story.

Speaking of exciting true stories, here’s a few from today that I found to be neat:

Space shuttle Discovery launches for some reason. If someone can give me one good reason why we still have NASA, I’m all ears. Actually, keep your damned whiny liberal stance to yourself, hippy boy.

Emmit Smith’s family tree has slaves in it. In equally shocking news, I brushed my teeth this morning. That was the only comment I could make about this story without coming across as a complete racist.

Shit on it as much as you’d like, but ranchera music’s popularity is simply staggering, especially in LA. For those of you who don’t know what ranchera music is, and God bless if you don’t, it’s basically every song you’d here at a mexican restaurant. It’s that stuff that has a lot of accordion and maybe some horns. Awful, just awful.

It’s everywhere in LA, too. I guesstimate have of the radio stations here play that shit. Literally, half. Every single pickup truck from the 70s filled to the brim with day laborers that I see, and I see a lot, is just blaring that shit.

I hate to label a type of music as shit but, well, it is. Basically, you know your music is shitty when an accordion is its primary instrument. I considered the notion that it’s a cultural difference and well, basically, it is. But, that doesn’t make it right. Ranchera music has been popular for almost a century and seemingly without much change, at least according to my Caucasian ears. It’d be like me listening to, well shit, I don’t even know what kind of music white people listened to one hundred years ago. Music tends to evolve pretty quickly, which I guess is exactly my point.

It’s April Fools Day today, and anyone who’s had the pleasure of eating In N Out Burger can appreciate this great April Fools Day prank.

Two things dawned on me today while riding my bike to work: 1) I have no idea what the health care debate is about and 2) black men can pull off jean shorts.

Jean shorts. Those haven’t been cool on white people in over a decade and yet I know I can walk outside tomorrow and in ten minutes see at least three brothers¹ wearing them. Meanwhile, what happens when a white man wears jean shorts, or jorts, if you will? It ain’t pretty. It says I bought these shorts in 1996 and essentially gave up on fashion right then and there. Or they say I’m a massive, massive tool. Tim Tebow, I’m looking at you.

Anyways, here’s some news stories I found interesting

Almost two dozen dead Chinese babies washed up on the shore of a river. “Holy fucking shit!” one writer for this blog exclaimed too loudly at work.

A pic of Jesse James looking very Nazi-ish has surfaced today. I feel bad for Sandra Bullock since she was in Speed II which is hands down the greatest action movie ever. But at the same time, she married a guy fucking covered in tattoos who works on motorcycles for a living. Can she really be that surprised by any of this?

Ugh, Jeez Louise. Earthquakes suck, plain and simple. We had a rolling 4.4 at 4:04 this morning ¹ and it just plain sucked. It was the suckiest suck that ever sucked.

I woke up at 4:02 to take my usual middle of the night tinkle ² and was back in bed about to get fast asleep and dreaming about snorkling with Werewolf Abraham Lincoln over the Sahara when that mothersucker hit. My hound, Kaylee, barked and jumped off the bed while I assumed my usual earthquake-in-bed pose: one foot on the ground, frozen like a scared little girl, wondering Is this the big one? ³

Earthquakes are the one risk about living in Southern California that I simply cannot defend. People will say “There’s a lot of foreigners and minorities there.” Yeah, so what? That’s how the real world works. And LA’s so big you don’t really notice. “There’s a lot of pollution.” There’s a lot of pollution in every city, big boy. “The state’s going broke.” I can still get high. “You have earthquakes.” Yeah, well… shit. I got nothing.

I was walking alongside a tourist couple on my way to work from my lunch break and we walked past a group of drifters and one of the women¹ asked us all for change.

The two tourists stopped and started digging through their pockets because they’re idiots but I kept on walking because I in fact did not have change and because, well, I typically don’t give money to homeless people. It’s not because they’re homeless and I despise them, it’s just that I don’t like giving money to strangers. Stranger Danger!²

The tourists realized they didn’t have any money and apologized to the drifter lady³ who then said to them, “At least you looked through your pockets unlike this guy,” to which she was referring to me.

And usually, when someone takes an underserving, unexpected shot at me like that, I react negatively. By that, I don’t mean I get angry or anything. No, I react negatively as in I’m usually tongue tied and can’t come up with a substantial comeback until I’m driving home. But, this was not one of those usual moments, my friends.

I quickly snapped back at the drifter lady,⁴ “I didn’t check my pockets because I know nothing is in them because I am financially responsible, unlike you.”

See what I did there? I demonstrated in a tongue-in-cheek self-deprecating way that I was also broke and that I knew it, and I also shoved it back in her face like Shaq against a kid in a wheelchair. That’s known in the industry as a twofer, party people.