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So, there’s this new guy at work. Well, he’s been here a few months but I didn’t actually have a conversation with him until today and I really only talked to him because we happened to be going to the fridge at the same time. He’s the new guy at work the same way my ’99 Honda Accord was new to me when I bought in 2005. It doesn’t really matter, does it?

Anyways, we exchanged polite pleasantries and it eventually evolved into us shooting the shit and he brought up how he’s this huge music fan and he wanted to know what all I listened to. I brought up how I’m a big Nirvana fan and the conversation evolved to talking about 80s bands like Motley Crue and Van Halen. The 70s were next and I mentioned that Zeppelin is possibly my favorite band ever.

Things were going good and I was thinking to myself how this guy could be someone I could hang out with again possibly outside of work blah, blah, blah. I then mentioned how I sort of like Pink Floyd and he responded, “I love Pink Floyd. That guy’s so talented.”

Yes, he thinks Pink Floyd is one person and not a band. What am I supposed to do with that? Well, I mean, it’s besides the point now because as soon as I realized I had heard what I thought I had heard, I got the fuck out of there. But, is it my responsibility to correct him on this? It’s kind of past the point at this point.

And now, every time I see this asshole I’m going to think to myself, “This asshole thinks Pink Floyd is a single person. What an asshole.”

We were listening to NPR but not really listening to it while we were bullshitting around like we always do, talking about nothing in particular. And then I let one slip. Well, I guess slip isn’t the best word since a slip is usually inaudible. I guess this was the exact opposite of a slip, really.

Anyways, we both burst out laughing and it got me wondering, how and why is a fart so funny and when did this happen? Think about it. I’m no Scientonomist(*), but I can logically say that human beings have been farting for most, if not all, of our existence. And I’d reckon that animals have pretty much been passing gas as long as they’ve been walking the Earth and swimming the seas. Wait, do fish fart? I googled it and it turns out that scientists don’t know for sure if fish fart. Let me repeat that: scientists don’t know for sure if fish fart!

(*) It’s a real word. Look it up.

So, we can reasonably say that animals have been farting for roughly as long as life has existed. If you’re a creationist, that’s around 6,000 years. 6,000 years to get used to farting. That’s a long time. And just so we’re clear, I am a creationist. An ardent one at that.

And if you’re into the whole fruity evolutionary tall tale, animals have been farting for roughly a billion years, give or take a few eons. The point is that we have had a long time to get used to sudden, audible, well-timed flatulence(**), and yet we are generally impervious to it’s tickling of our funny bones.

(**) Not a real word.

We’ve been farting for almost as long as we’ve been breathing and yet it still makes us laugh. A fart joke is one of the most basic unfunny jokes out there and yet a real, genuine audible fart is absolutely gangbusters. How is this possible?

I was walking down Sunset yesterday and overheard two ladies say to two homeless men, “Would you like a free coffee and a donut?” I’m all about charity and whatnot but seriously, a donut? Just think about that for a second. I’m no scientist, or a Scientologist for that matter, but I’m pretty sure I know that donuts consist primarily of sugar (with maybe a little air). And based on the footage I’ve seen, homeless people usually don’t have the adequate means to clean their teeth.

Not to mention that it’s fucking sugar. I’m going to double check with my nutritionist, but I’m pretty sugar giving practically pure sugar to a starving person isn’t the greatest idea in the world. The two women might as well have asked the men if they’d like a kick to the nuts.

I gave my mom a gift certificate to a clothing store in Oklahoma and she used it buy a sailor sweater. I asked her exactly what a sailor sweater was because, well, let’s be honest, what the fuck exactly is a sailor sweater. Her response, “Picture Ernest Hemingway in a sweater.”

Wait, what?

I hope the way you start out your New Year’s Day is not any indication of how the rest of that year will go because holllly shiiiiit. I had just finished walking my dog Kaylee (she’s a big ole cutey-pie, btw) and as we make our way back into my building and up the first flight of stairs I see a man making his way down who, judging by his appearance (google ‘James Brown mugshot’), prefers to unwind with a hit of crack. Sure, I live in Hollywood and see people of his ilk every single day but there’s generally very little interaction between us, either because I’m riding past them on my bicycle on my way to work or acting like I’m talking on my phone when I’m walking past them. This encounter would not be one of those times.

Anywho, I see this guy and notice right away he looks a little funky (James Brown mugshot funky, not James Brown dance funky) and I’m more or less like a deer in headlights and I say the first thing that comes to mind: “Hi.” He responds with a “Happy New Year” and starts making his way down the stairs. Oh fuck, here we go I thought to myself. So, the man proceeds to introduce himself to me and shake my hand and he says something along the lines of how wonderful this year is going to be and blah blah blah; I’m just standing their smiling politely the whole time, hoping this thing can end and end soon. Then the guy hugs me… and kisses me on the cheek. Yes, a crackhead kissed me on the cheek.

So, as you can guess, I’m genuinely freaked the F out at this point. I start walking up the stairs to go to my apartment and burn all of my clothes (and I mean all of my clothes, not just the clothes I’m wearing. You know, for good measure) when he says, “Hey, how can I get ahold of you.” Yes, a crackhead basically just asked me out. I literally mumbled something and ran upstairs. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the shower curled up in a fetal position.