This is the LA Tangent. part 01, version 01, act I, scene 2, take 104, frame 3, and cut-it-out 7.
Named appropriately since I live in Los Angeles, not in DC. And also because I have a knack for jumping trains like no other. Watch and be amazed at the random crap I’ll say. Can we say crap? Is this a family show?
On with it then… I miss my old office roommate. They let him go last week because business is slow. He’s a 50 year old x-rocker type recovering from the lung surgery that he had three months ago to remove cancer. AND! He still can’t stop smoking. Doesn’t want to. After all he went through to save his life, he might as well enjoy the rest of it. Us, having so much in common (*cough*like nothing), somehow became good friends.
When he left they moved in some other bro-dude. I don’t even know where to begin. He wants to compare and contrast departments. He’ll talk about a steak he ate for lunch last week. “Switch to Linux!” he says. “Linux! Linux! LINUX!” He explained to me that I should color coordinate my workspace… for krazy! color! coordinated! fun. Yeah, that’s krazy with a k. And worse, he makes me answer questions like, “do you like miracle whip or real mayonaise?” You know, krap that I don’t care about.
Before I had made the call to start wearing my headphones all day long, something happened. He was talking about an ex-girlfriend. Their relationship had gone sour. “I knew it was over,” he said, “when she kissed me like… like… like…”
I could see that he was stuck, so I helped him out.
“Like when you kiss the mailman.”
He does’t react. At all.
Not “ew.” Not a cheap nervous heh. Nothing.
“Yeah. I mean, it was just blah.”
I do this thing that’s awesomely rude. When I’ve had enough, such as in this particular instance, I slowly exhale my last bit of effort for communication (and pretend consideration of what’s been said), and turn away. If you don’t over act this little move, it has a 90% success rate. So I used it.
Because I had some serious thinking to do. What if he’s right? What if I’m not funny? Not even a little bit? I couldn’t figure this kid out. I backtracked the scenario. I began to unravel the elements of the joke. Not just the mailman joke, but the aristicrats joke. Maybe a dead-pan sense of humor just… isn’t. I mean, that’s the joke right? That it’s not funny? This kid was wrecking my head. Oh man. This is going to cost me hours of watching people fall down on You[Tube]. That’s always good.
What Tangent.
Alright. Something useful for any of the others kids in LA this weekend…
Friday night is a toss-up between the terminally hip Sicksteens event:
This is a party my friend Chase is doing. You might have seen his mural paintings all over Venice Beach.
Or the seriously fun MasterSlave concert tomorrow at midnight at El Cid in Silverlake.
(http://www.myspace.com/masterslave)
Princess Dominic and Master Frank rock like no other faux(?) S&M group you’ve seen. Everyone must see this. Except children. And the weak of spirit.
All that said, Sinners and Fornicators! Raise a fist to the air and say YEAH!!
and good night.
~r
