Tag: #humor

Why Aren’t You Posting?

This week, a friend had a 4th of July party, and as she was introducing me around, she told people all about my year off and my “hilarious” blog.

She asked why I hadn’t been posting and kept reiterating that I was a good writer.

Well, the compliment kicked me into gear, – the reason I haven’t been writing is because unemployment has become a bit of a purgatory that I seem to have banished myself to. I’ve spent the last couple of months trying to unlock the gates and escape the cave, but nothing has worked – yet.

Oh, and I’ve been spending a lot of time on the bus.

And nothing makes you feel more like you are stuck in purgatory than taking the bus, in Los Angeles.

So, as a reintroduction to anything funny that has been happening in my life – I’d like to offer up this week’s bus story:

I’ve been volunteering at a horse sanctuary, mucking out stalls, playing with horses, getting reacquainted with my allergies, and developing muscles. It’s been glorious – but, to get there takes about 2.5 hrs on the bus. To get back takes over 3.

There is a special kind of horrible mood that I develop when I smell like manure, am physically incapable of walking or standing, am being prodded by tiny bits of pokey hay, am super hungry and seem to miss every one of three, sometimes four bus connections.

This week was particularly bad – the first bus just didn’t show up – after twenty minutes, I asked Google to find another way home. One bus later, I found myself at a stop in the middle of nowhere, waiting alone, with a man who had gotten kicked off the last bus. I patiently listened to his story of asshole bus drivers and quietly hoped someone else would show up. No one did.

The next bus took me to another stop where I met a lovely woman who was having trouble walking because she had just had open heart surgery. She wanted to talk. I wanted to crawl into a hole and drink a cup of tea.

The penultimate bus involved a man who decided that the bus was his pulpit, and the passengers, his congregation. He gave us a speech on his life and said that if Barbara Streissand could get $150M for her autobiography, he could surely get $100M for his.

And now we come to our last bus, where, whilst waiting at the stop, I returned my sister’s call – a call she said that would cheer me up with the fact that she had a story to make me feel better about my life.

It sounds evil, but sometimes those stories are really, really needed. So, hopefully this story can help someone else.


Overheard in LA: Two Men and a Lyft

A lot of people come to LA for people watching, but people are more than their looks, so I would like to offer “conversation listening” as a new reason to visit the city.


Whilst eating a fried chicken sandwich in a shop that sells fried chicken sandwiches and donuts in the shape of narwhals:

“You know, it is very LA, the relationship, she is very pretty, but doesn’t give me anything else” *

*Said by man who is, mysteriously, still in a relationship


Whilst in a bar, deciding whether to order a drink:

“Dating is hard in LA, it’s hardest for straight men – because women here, they don’t want to be in a relationship – they feel like they are giving up something”

“What do you think they think they are giving up?” (The guy was talking to me)

“Their careers, their cars…(I forget this bit)…but really men are meant to be Gods, we are meant to build castles for Goddesses, and then fill those castles.”*

*Said by man who is a self-proclaimed “really good boyfriend”

Late Night:

Whilst trying to find my Lyft driver,

“I’m across from the Denny’s”*

*LA: a city that comes with new points of references

The Fog: A Car Ride Into The Afterlife 

They say that before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. I would like to say that perhaps before, before you’re going to maybe die, your future life flashes before your eyes. 

Take for instance, the last hour of my life, half of which was spent actively thinking it was the last hour of my life. What flashed? Besides light bulbs? The end of decisions. A vast chasm of thoughts like, “I wouldn’t have to worry about getting a job, or finding a health care plan, or having to sign up for dating apps – or dating, or finding an apartment, or a couch” – a complete end to decisions. 

The “End of Decisions” flash was brought on by the decision to get in a car. A car that had to drive an hour to the train station, because the railway tracks were not brave enough to come up that high in the mountain that was covered in so much fog you could literally only see white, and it was dark outside. 

There was zero visibility and there were no seatbelts.

The car wound itself around the turns as though it were a rollercoaster on a set track, expertly, like it had done it a thousand times before, but also a little jagged, like it was surprised that mountain turned. 

“At least we have our passports so they can identify our bodies” my friend said as it looked as though we could have driven off the side of an unmarked cliff. Her next thought, as we went into on coming traffic to pass an 18 Wheeler, was about where her zip lock bags were – in case she needed to throw up

For one reason or another (mostly skill and a lot of luck) the End of Decisions did not come, damn you Real Life still making me face you in the mirror. 

Only three weeks to go before I am back in the US and need to start making decisions again. 

For reference – if anyone goes to Sapa, Vietnam and does the same route back to the railway station, just consider it an amusement park ride without a waiting line. 

The day before, ten times worse the day after

Vietnamese Coffee: The Paranoia-Enducing Drink that Governments Should Investigate / Use

You know when you can’t sleep at night and you just toss around like a lumpy sack of potatoes? And then you realize that you probably shouldn’t have had coffee at 3pm? Especially not when you’ve been a tea drinker for years and this entire year has been such a caffeine-lessened year your body might as well just be full of water?

Well, after Vietnamese coffee (which is delicious) the experience of being a lumpy sack of potatoes gets hightened into being a lumpy sack of potatoes that knows it’s destined for the slicer and the frier. 

It was 3am, we were waking up early to ride motorbikes from Hoi An to Hue, an 8 hr journey, “the same one the Top Gear guys did.” It would take us around the Marble Mountains, through the 32 km of gorgeous Da Nang Beach and then way, way up into the Hai Van Pass (ocean-cloud pass).

It was 3am and my brain was telling me not to get on the bike. To be clear, I wasn’t even driving the bike. I was merely riding it while someone else, someone very experienced was driving it. My brain was envisioning itself being flung off the Pass, my body rolling down the hill like that sack of potatoes. My brain was saying that if I don’t die, tomorrow will definitely be the last day that I walk. 

Good thing whoever was reading those coffee beans did a bad job, because I didn’t get flung off the Pass, and I am still walking, and except for about an hour where I kept saying to myself, “try and remember what walking feels like in case this really is the last day,” it went great and I loved it.

So everyone, face your fears (even the nonsensical ones) and to all the governments out there, if you’re looking for a new torture device, I’ve got a cheap method to sell you. 

PS – I did this trip with my parents, and they had none of these fears, A) they are (mostly) immune to the effects of coffee and B) they are way cooler than me

The top of The Pass
On the way up The Pass
See, everything worked out great
The Culprit