If you really wanna piss off one of the guides/employees at the La Brea Tar Pits, just ask them where the dinosaurs are. That is a major sore subject to those people.

Chivalry is dead: The whole "every car has electronic car door locks and most just have a button on the key chain that open all car doors" thing makes it pretty hard to open the door for someone. Not that I have a car or anything. But I mean, what do you do, walk to the other person's side of the car and aim the alarm button and open the door for them? That seems pretentious and cheesy... Am I making any sense here?

You know what else really sucks my balls? Bathrooms with the hand blow dryers. Fuck my ass, I ain't even gonna sit around for 5 minutes drying my freaking hands. I am forced to go with the ever-popular "wipe them on my pants" move or the less-likely-to-be-bragged-about "I didn’t touch anything in the bathroom but my penis, which is clean, so I just didn’t wash my hands at all." For all the shit we waste paper on (oi, bathroom humor...get it?), you'd think we could spare a few more paper towels.

Perhaps the scariest thing about my high school kids is the shit that they eat. And this isn’t just their lunch or their after-lunch snacks. My kids are macking candy bars and all sorts of nasty-flavored potato chips and shit, starting at 8:00 AM. Gnar gnar.

Just cuz you're foreign doesn’t give you any sort of stupidity immunity. That is: it ain't no excuse.

Being judgmental and discerning is surprisingly less taxing than you would think. It is the people...sigh, the people.

Sometimes I think that the people that know the difference between that and which and how to use them correctly are a dying breed.

Brian told me about how when he was a little kid, his family had a van conversion and the back row seats were nonexistent, so they just threw some lawn chairs back there to be the back row for road trips and stuff.

It's really cool looking when the sun makes those laser beam things that go shooting down.

Do you think a cop would hit you if he radared you speeding and when he went to give you the ticket, you asked him how his balls were? Speaking of, how do you think meter maids sleep at night? Every time I see a meter maid and I am not in a car (which is often enough since, to reiterate, I don’t have one), I feel so terribly compelled to walk up to them and be all like, "So...you are a meter maid. How is that working out for you?" You fucking chump pussy bitch. What, you couldn’t get a job as a security guard at the mall?

Awkward sure is spelled kind of awkwardly.

Do you ever do google image searches for "boobs?" Me too. If I got enough time to kill, I will even search for tits, hooters, and, um, other stuff...

I had a dream where my friend Ben was a bad guy. I mean a really bad guy (normally Ben is a really good guy). So in the dream I had no choice but to hit him, but every time I went to hit him, his face kept turning into either a big milk carton or into a pretty girl's face--the end result of either face-change being that I couldn’t hit him (I can't hit milk or a girl). It was actually part of a dream where he was drugging us all with some hallucinogen that was in the gum he was passing out (that we had to take). The drug effect was referred to as "visual field manipulation" and it allowed people to project alter-egoesqe perceptions of themselves. Very Phillip K. Dickish.

Silver Jews said: "Water doesn’t give a dam[n]."

To have things hit me and simply sink; no ripples or bubbles.-some book I read I can't remember which one. One hell of an idea though.

*sigh*

I love a good nosh. Anytime. There's always room to nosh. Sometimes that can get a brother in trouble though. It is damn hard to defend against the urge. Sometimes, at night, I try to drink a big glass of water or 3 to appease the nosh synapses. My last line of defense is to deem noshing time officially over with a symbolic gesture: a premature brushing of the teeth. Then I usually have this dialog with myself: "Man, I'm kinda hungry. Let's nosh some cashews." "Um, dude, you may recall we just brushed our teeth like 20 minutes ago." "So what. Don't be a pussy. It's only 10:30. We can brush our teeth again later."

You see what I have to deal with?

Does DVD porn come with deleted scenes? That would be cool.

You know how when you are reading a book, sometimes you aren’t exactly sure how to pronounce a character's name? So you just pick a pronunciation, even though you are just reading in your head, and use it for the duration of the book? Good times. And sometimes you'll be talking to someone else about the book and you will be talking about the character and you will be forced to say their name out loud or the other person will say their name out loud, and you will come to find out that your chosen pronunciation was wrong? Less good times.

You know what would suck? What if you had a really annoying voice? Then, even if you read heaps and built up your vocabulary and stuff, you would still sound stupid and annoying when you talked. How frustrating would that be?

"You wanna hit it, not babysit it." -Chris

What is worse: Lenny Kravitz or the people that like Lenny Kravitz (those who encourage him to continue to make new music)?

Big boobs are totally cool and all (totally cool), but years of experience have taught me that, when the bra comes off, nice boobs are--in general--better than big boobs. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

I love the word extrapolate. It is good fucking times. So the other day I threw out interpolate as the opposite idea of extrapolate and thought I was the man. I go to write about it here and it turns out that interpolate is already a word. Good times...

I was explaining how I was going to deal with some difficult dilemma (is there any other kind?) and I said that it wasn’t "Rocket Surgery." I felt sheepish at first, but now I am all about it. Plus I amalgamated (cue my Amalgamator theme song). I am thinking it might be time to start making Rocket Surgeon t-shirts.

After a really hard day at Mission HS, I had to go to class at State (for the credential program). So I am sitting there in my class and this girl called Kristine was all antagonizing me (well, to be honest, I was antagonizing her, but she talked back), and I was all, "Keep antagonizing me. I been waiting all day for someone my own age to piss me off." Sweet.

And then she was all... And then I was all...

You know how they say that the only way to be safe about oral sex--in terms of STDs--is to use a condom (or the infamous dental dam--or saran wrap)? How dirty would a dude/chick have to be to actually take this precaution? I don’t know anyone who has given or received oral sex and employed the use of said device(s). Do you? Ew, have you? Maybe if your boyfriend/girlfriend didn’t wanna catch their partner's cold; would that be a reason to wear said said device(s)? I'm fishing, I know...

Dental dams=Nielson Ratings box. No proof that either actually exist.

When I have a salad, I don’t need 50 different things in it. What I need is lettuce, tomato, red and/or green onion, and at least 1 "party" item. Party items would include but not be limited to: avocado, cheese (any of many), bacon, smoked salmon, etc. Special consideration to a combination of at least 2 of the following items, in lieu of a party item: garbanzo beans, hard-boiled egg, beets, chicken, croutons (nobody ever seems to want to admit that they are down with croutons. What's up with that?), olives, and things of this nature (and I don’t need any fucking cucumber in my salad--there is enough water in the lettuce).

Speaking of salad, isn’t there an unwritten rule that if you have a salad with iceberg lettuce that it must be soaked in ranch dressing or you will go to hell?

One of my students, an often-pink-wearing-girly-girl, who is really nice and stuff (those could be her words, not mine), has a habit of dotting every i with a heart. This is mildly entertaining to say the least. However, when students turned in body paragraph essays about the Holocaust memoir Night (that we are reading in class), it was a little disconcerting, to say the least, to see the i in Nazi with a heart over it. Creepy.

By: Justin