Ok, maybe not with.
Maybe it was more like “drinking coffee next to Macaulay Culkin. But either way, what started as a next-to coffee-drinking experience, quickly evolved into a day around Beverly Hills, California. It was something I would have never expected, nor believed — and so I understand if you feel the same way.
It started, somewhat innocently. I was drinking my Coffee Bean Vanilla Blended when Mac sat down next to me in a long trenchcoat, jeans and a white t-shirt that said, “Doh!” on it. He was drinking something hot, as the steam was rising from the top of the cup. He looked at me and in that split second my sense-of-humor took hold and I slapped both hands to my face, giving him the trademark Home Alone look that has probably haunted him his entire life.
I cannot be your “remember the first three numbers” guy.
Sure, I may be standing next to you when you call 411. Sure, I may have an almost inhuman ability to remember three numbers for hours and hours without forgetting them. Sure, I may even have a pen or pad next to me on which I could write those three numbers and remember them for you.
But I will not do it.
If you come to a point in your life that you can’t remember the first three digits before the other last four digits so that you can actually call the person you want to call, then there is something desperately wrong with your short-term memory capabilities. Now, I’m not saying you should be punished for such lack of memory/number retention skills…but I refuse to be a part of the chaos that will ensue once you hang up the phone and forget the numbers.
Let’s face it — any food that explodes in your mouth when you put pressure on it from all sides with your molars, can’t be all that good.
Sure, there are other “explode-in-your-mouth” foods that also gross me out like certain hard-boiled egg things and caviar and gum with seeping radioactive juice inside of it. But peas? C’mon people. No matter how you cook them, no matter how they’re served, they are the grossest food item on the face of the Earth.
It’s true — there is no recap to follow regarding turkey, gravy, sweets, family brawls that involved the throwing of mashed potatoes and there will definitely be no recap about the senile old folks. All these things will never be recapped here, there or anywhere.
Having recently just re-arrived back in the wonderful world of Los Angeles, I left the main building of my homestead and traversed through the backyard to the hidden guest house on my property. Here, I can quietly waste even more time while I should be working on certain projects I am currently being paid to do.
“Hate” may be a strong word, but it works perfectly in this situation.
First of all, you have got to stop wearing that top hat of yours. People do not wear top hats anymore unless they are starring as a local English professor or Scotland Yard investigator at your weekend murder mystery dinner party. You are neither. Yet you continue to wear your top hat and say things like, “Good day to you” and “Cheers!” as you tip your hat to passerbys. This is unacceptable and drives me crazy.