Continental breakfasts always sound delicious, and whenever I stay in a hotel I make it a point to wake up early to indulge in this exotic complimentary meal. An entire continent’s breakfast array is waiting for me downstairs, with untold platters of steaming meats, bouquets of fruits, a diverse selection of freshly-baked bread, eggs, and fine cheeses. Or I could settle for some shitty muffins and Cheerios, that would also be wonderful.
All posts by wickensworth
Canned Peas
I feel very dirty when I need to purchase a can of peas. For some reason they’re always labeled “Young Tender Sweet Peas” or “All-Natural Young Baby Peas.” Other grocery shoppers are quick to judge me when I purchase a can of peas, thinking me for some kind of pervert. That’s why I always cry, “It’s for a recipe!” and then bolt out of the aisle in tears. These other shoppers know as well as I do that my peas aren’t for any so-called recipe. Sometimes I just like to have some young tender peas around.
Practical Jokes
I get really annoyed when people justify playing a trick on me by saying, “Oh come on, man, it was just a practical joke.” I don’t exactly see how it was “practical” to soak me with a bucket of water. In reality the term “practical joke” is meant to convey that the joke involves some sort of physical action, but the way people say it implies pragmatism. Meanwhile playing a trick on somebody is completely fucking frivolous. If you really want to be practical why don’t you stop wasting my time with your cruel tricks.
Beaded curtains
One thing I’ve never understood is why some people hang those dangling strings of beads in their entryway. What culture are we even trying to emulate here, guys? It’s as if these people are saying, “Allow me to make it slightly less convenient for you to enter this room.” The stakes are even higher if somebody passes the beaded curtain immediately in front of you, because now all the strings are swinging around in crazy directions, and no matter what you do you’re going to get whapped. How about rigging up some knives to these strings of beads? Why don’t you just go ahead and stab me for entering your living room?
Hopefully next time I have to pass a beaded curtain I’ll have a good pair of scissors on me. Then I’ll just tell my host, “Here, let me help you with this,” and begin maniacally cutting the shit out of their beaded curtain as they look on in horror.
Earthquakes!
Last week I had the chance to experience a modest earthquake (4.2), which was something I’d been looking forward to since I moved out to California—looking forward to with a profound fear. For while earthquakes are often delightful opportunities to enjoy a fleeting earthly rumble, they can also be city-destroying leviathans. This volatile dichotomy would be analogous to if volcanoes on rare occasions spewed scorching hot lava, but usually they just erupted with chocolate milk.
Living in a geologic fault zone is like living inside a piñata. Sometimes you’re hit with a whack from some milquetoast four-eyes, but every once in a while an overgrown future left tackle comes along, and he’s secretly peeking out from his blindfold. A strike from this small child is what I fear more than anything else in the world.
The problem is that you never know which kind of earthquake you’re in for. Sometimes a bus will pass by my apartment, lightly shaking the floor, and I’ll immediately run outside in hysterics yelling, “This is the big one!” without even pausing to put on my clothing.
Here is a handy guide to enjoying/suffering the awesome/horrific thrill-ride/disaster known as the earthquake, based on the Richter magnitude scale:
2.0-2.9: Say, was that an earthquake, or did an infant just crawl passed the apartment?
3.0-3.9: Oh great, my neighbor is blasting Nas again. Oh wait, no, earthquake! Oh wait, but my neighbor is also blasting Nas.
4.0-4.9: Awesome! Earthquake! Rock and roll! Fuck yeah! Oh no, my fine china.
5.0-5.9: Ha ha … OK, that’s pretty impressive, earth. Ha ha, good one. You’re right, I should replace that window. Ha ha. Oh, thanks, I’ve been meaning to rearrange my display shelf. You fucking asshole.
6.0-6.9: Fuck this, man, this is not cool! That does it, I’m moving to Vermont.
7.0+: What a horrific tragedy. Have fun rebuilding your life, if you manage to survive this ungodly nightmare. The most terrifying aspect of powerful earthquakes is that they can directly trigger accomplice disasters such as landslides, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions, and fires. If I’m ever involved in something likes this I know it would be a long overdue punishment for how I tortured those poor citizens of SimCity 2000.
