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Archives: Feb 2014

Get outta my way, I’m a terrible person and I’m buying this dog

Everything in Los Angeles is competitive, except using the restroom. If you have to whiz, take your time. But for anything else, you should expect heavy competition. Everything from eating at In-N-Out Burger, to buying crappy used furniture, to watching a savage gang beating on the subway requires shoving your way through large crowds of people cool enough to know about it long before you.

For Los Angelians . . . Los Angelites . . . for people who live here, nothing is worthwhile unless it’s wrestled away from someone else. Want to sign up for a pilates class, go to a flea market, eat an $8 grilled cheese sandwich from a food truck or drive your car two miles to your workplace? You’d better set aside about two hours for each of these things. Being a resident here means always having an endless crowd ahead, full of people who have much nicer sunglasses than you and teeth that are crooked in an oddly attractive way that makes them look pretty, yet just flawed enough to be interesting.

Paul Ryan enemies list for Feb. 17, 2014

Hello, I’m a waiter at a restaurant, and I recommended that Paul try the soup. I’m just doing my job and repeating the specials. I was unaware that Paul views soup as “a bowl of water with things in it.” I realize now how offensive it is to put scalding water in a bowl and 1) pretend it’s food, 2) pretend it’s worth actual money, and 3) attempt to sell it to an intelligent human being. I can’t apologize enough. I promise I will immediately pour all this brown water with weird things in it down the sink and buy more bacon and steaks.

Hello, I’m a bus driver. I slammed on the brakes to avoid running over a small child, and the centrifugal force slightly altered the placement of Paul’s hair. I’m very sorry for messing up his hair, and will make sure to run over any Darwinian children that threaten its magnificence in the future.

Hello, I’m an attractive woman on Tinder. I just liked Paul’s photo, which sends him an alert on his phone that someone in the universe doesn’t think he’s ugly. But I neglected to mention in my profile that I’m a vegan who can only eat at three restaurants throughout the city. I’m sorry for not mentioning my veganism, and realize it’s the same as someone not mentioning they have herpes.

Chivalrous drug creating havoc in Twin Ports

Police are on the hunt for the distributor of a new drug more dangerous than heroin, cocaine and gluten-free marijuana combined. This new substance puts the victim into a hypnotic state of euphoria and contentment, willing to do nearly anything for the first person they see after taking it.

Rather than being passed around freely like prescription drugs, club drugs or taxidermied cats filled with peyote, this new drug is being administered by one person, and without people’s knowledge. Both men and women have been targeted equally, but perhaps the strangest aspect is the way the drug is injected.

“He shoots them with a goddamn arrow,” said Sergeant Ace Peecol of the Duluth Police Department. “Sick fuck. Two people are on a date and wham! Both of them get hit with arrows. When they come to and look at each other, it’s just boners for miles. Guy boners, lady boners, everything. I seen it with my own eyes!”

A guide to dating in your 30s

It’s a scientific fact that 94 percent of men are gross. Like really gross. It’s also a fact that 100 percent of single men in their 30s are outright disgusting and beyond repair. Remember those immature creeps in high school who would pin other guys to the floor so they could sit on their face and fart? Those guys are like a hunky dream date compared to single guys in their 30s.

Expect “creative” mustaches. Expect unfortunate jewelry choices. Expect at least 40 hours per week of video game time. If they make it far enough to get into your bedroom, have a taser ready, because if they’ve gone over a decade as an adult without being married, it’s almost guaranteed they’ve got some weird sexual quirks that will scare the bejeezus out of you. Until there’s a Carfax for single men, punch first and ask questions later.