I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.
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Tuesday, May 10
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REAL MEN DON'T USE ROADSIDE ASSISTANCE
Only moronic women would fall for guys for their huge automobiles.
JENNY: OMFGZ, DID YOU SEE HIS TRUCK
TANYA: !!! YEASSS I DID!!11LOL I NEED 2 DATE HIM
These big cars are supposed to push the "I'M A REAL MAN" message. Machismo at its dumbest, really. "I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT, BECAUSE I OWN A HUGE VEHICLE, AND BECAUSE I SPEND $190 ON GAS EVERY MONTH. NO FEARRRR!!!!" Really, though, I just hate big cars. No one in SoCal needs a big car unless you've got a ton of kids or work in construction. Duh.
There's a lighter side to it all.
Driving home today, I saw one of those huge, souped-up trucks -- new paint job, huge rims, annoyingly loud sound system, racing decals up the butthole, a fat muffler, huge tires -- the works.
But ...the guy also had a AAA sticker on his bumper. Yeah, Triple A.
It isn't the first time I've seen it. I always laugh at myself because being a Triple A member is just about the most UN-manliest thing a guy could ever do.
CHAD: HEY, BRO, LET'S GO OFF-ROADING AT THE CANYON!!!!!
ROGER: YEAH, MAN! LET'S RIP SHIT UP! LET ME PUT MY CARBURRATOR IN MY THINGIE AND WRENCH THIS SUCKER UP AND GET READY!!!! RAWWWK!!!
[2 hours later, a flat tire]
ROGER: Chad, gimme your phone I gotta call Triple A FIX IT YOURSELF, YOU MANLY MAN YOU.
Retards.
OMFGZ ANOTHER LIVE JAZZ MUSIC ALERT: Tomorrow night, your pal Hugo here (and the jazz combo he's in -- The Art Ensemble) will be performing at 8PM at Fullerton's own jazz joint -- Steamer's. Sit down, drink some liquor, and pretend that we sound good. See ya there!
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