Menace 2 Society

True Story. I refuse to drive after having more than three drinks. Friends call be a choirboy. I call myself a bad driver. Its been well documented. I, amazingly enough, one time was headed to the Best Buy on Pico and ended up near the Staples Center. It makes for adventurous times living in LA.

Every morning I take the local route to work. Sure Wilshire is a bit heavy on the traffic but it helps the waking up process. I can check my precious blackberry and I don't need to be super alert as I'm never going over 40. The only thing I really have to worry about is the occasional homeless person scurrying from his home in the jack n the box parking lot over to the carl's jr parking lot. Otherwise its smooth sailing. There's something very relaxing about gassing and breaking for five and 1/2 miles. Sure I could take the 10 to the 405 (6.3 miles of speed!) but then I'd have to pay attention to stuff. If you've ever been in a car ride with me you'll know one thing. Paying attention to "stuff", not my strong suit.

Today, as I'm motoring through the Wilshire gridlock I hit my favorite spot of the drive, that i like to call "the rage maker" and its pretty jammed up. The 405 merges into Wilshire and all the Freeway people decide that they need to get over to the middle and left lanes as quick as possible. Well, Wilsh and I have been together for the long haul and I won't have any part of it.

Fuck those freeway fuckers and their fucking sense of entitlement.

Needing to get over to the right I, without hesitation, throw up the bro hand and cut off a big black Escalade merging from the 405. The Escalade switches lanes and pulls along side me. I turn to see the driver mouthing at me and then pull past me. I start to laugh as i clearly cut him off and I'm sure I deserved whatever disparaging remarks he was making about my driving. I've heard em all so i never get pissed...but its early and I'm in good spirits. My plan, if traffic will allow, is to pull along side him at the next light and to Street Grey PouPon his ass (see this doesn't really translate well, but what that means is..fuck it I'll just explain outside of the parentheses in two seconds). We hit a light..and i inch up to the Escalade...come on, one more foot is all i need. Got it.

While "mean mugging" I motion to him with the international sign for "Roll your window down"(the "pardon me do you have any grey poupon" face and hand combo) and say in my best tough guy voice "YO, what were you saying back there!? My window was up. Why don't you say it now!".

He chuckled and said "Ha, i said "you're driving like its Manhattan!".

I laughed and said "alright man, have a good day".

Street cred for the NY plates. Little does he know NY cabbies would kick my ass. Hard.


Public service announcment from your local Deltron 3030: Kids don't drink and drive.

Valley of the Damned

Yesterday was a day of failed missions that lead, as usual, back to "The Loop" (seriously Neil, get cracking on the site already!). However before I can even get into that I need to share a horror story that could only happen in the dreaded VALLEY.

My friend Sandra called and asked me to take a ride with her to the aforementioned Valley because she wanted to check out a Craigslist sale. She explained that the dude sounded creepy on the phone and she needed someone to protect her. Now that I'm a gym rat and I'm taking Nitrix I'm that guy. 160 pounds. All muscle. Well, mostly all bones and Miller Lite but no one needs to know that. Back to the valley. We head over to some god forsaken part of the town to meet with "Daniel". Daniel just broke up with his life partner and he's running to lick his wounds (and bangers) in London. "Daniel" is a train wreck"....

The Craigslist sale was a dead end unless you're a big fan of nautical themed furniture and nick knacks (I tried to talk Sandra into picking of the mugs labeled Captain and First Mate....but no dice. I was impressed with my ability to contain my jackass one liners. I was dying to say "Wow, you really like boating....guess you love covering yourself in sea men." or "Nice model boat...you can really see the details in the poop deck!" Turns out the last laugh was on me.

Remember when I said "Daniel" is a train wreck"....well that Ellipsis was a doozy!

Apparently "Daniel" likes to greet guests by masturbating in his living room. I did not witness this as I was lagging behind Sandra (so I guess I failed at my bodyguard duties) but apparently Daniel answered the door with his pants open. I missed this and offered the friendly handshake as I entered and as I left. Damn my manners. Trying to use logic to ease my nerves of what I've just learned I say "Nah, he wasn't doing that...no way...he doesn't even have a TV, and there were other people in the house." Too bad I saw "Little Children" and I now know these sick bastards know no kind of masturbation restraint. Animals! We jump in the car, try to forget what just occurred and make our way out of the dreaded valley. Even though I'm dying to scrub up my hands O.R. style I insist on stopping off a Bay Cities for food. (I pulled the crack head move of not eating all day and I'm dying.) So we stop and I get a meatball sub and then I'm tempted during the wait to also get a cabrese salad. In my weakened state I immediately dip my hands into the pint and grab some zesty mozzarella...and Sandra does the same. As I lick the olive off my finger tips I freeze! I just put the handshake hand in my mouth...and so did Sandra! (Her own hand.) I licked my HANDSHAKE HAND!

There wasn't enough Listerine in the world to quench my antibacterial thirst. Damn the Valley. I'm never going back! NEVER!

After that travesty I needed to drink. Alot. Started drinking in the apt while watching the always awesome "Boys n the hood". I've decided to officially change my name to Furious' Styles. Later I Went to La Cabana where I was surprised to see that it is a hotspot for hipsters. I texted a friend to let them know where we were and I mentioned the overabundance of hipsters. She, being Mexican, was unfamiliar with the term hipster (much in the way I was unfamiliar with what a "Torta" was) so I tried to explain via text” I wrote "faux-hawks, beards, vintage tees, glasses, ride vespas..." and then I stopped. I just described myself! (Sans vespa of course). I am the ENEMY! Furious Styles would not be proud.

Later in the evening eople wanted to hit a lounge /club on Lincoln Blvd, but the line was around the block. I’m not a club guy to begin with….but even less of a fan when there’s a line. My goal in life is to never go anywhere that has lines…and ESPECIALLY if you have to wait to be inspected by some mook bouncer before getting approval to enter. Fuck that. Plan B: World Café.

Best Plan B ever.

We set up shop next to the Mojito bar and got ready to race. Nothing is more ridiculous then a table of eight pounding mojito after mojito. Sonny Crocket was right. They are awesome. To think I wasted my life never having them before. They taste as delicious as Minute Maid lemonade. Lemonade that makes you more handsome, tougher, and smarter. Some might argue that the mojitos had the complete opposite effect on the night. Those people are dicks.

Side note: I was duped into going over a girls house and becoming her and her roommates personal Schneider. I was promised use of their washer and dryer if I helped with some AV wiring and some bedroom labor. Seemed like a fair trade off as I HATE the Laundromat and my buildings washer and dryer are slow and always unavailable. So after doing fix-it chores throughout the apt I went over to the dryer to switch loads. After a full hour in the dryer my clothes were still soaking wet. Maybe even wetter. In true Hood Rat fashion the girl forgot to pay her Gas bill. Felt Bamboozled. Hood (rat) winked. Oh Bell Biv Devoe you only warned me about big butts and smiles...you never once said “Don’t trust a hood rat!”

Side note II: Don’t call borderline strangers “Prison Mike” (Regardless if their name happens to be Mike.). I might as well have offered up black haus shots while I was at it. “They” must think I’m a crazy cross burner. Damn this foot in mouth disease.

Note: if you haven’t already seen it, you tube the clip from “The Office”. It’s priceless.
(i'd paste the clip in here...but my office is blocked...bastards)

Are you too good for your Haus?

Last night was a blur.

I woke up this morning and my glasses were nowhere to be found. I blame it all on (that's right, running theme) Tequila.

Backstory gist: Tequila was the worst and first thing i ever got drunk sick on back in highschool. Since then every whiff brings me back to that day. Kind of like when a smell reminds you of a girl, or a childhood memory...only this would be a childhood memory of a girl covered in vomit.

I've officially lost my train of thought.

Back to Tequila. So last night while enjoying giant Coronas at Cabo we befriended a raw and explosive dude who insisted on doing shots. I suggested my go to shot of choice, Black haus.

Note to self: Don't suggest any shots named "black ____" to raw and explosive strangers.

Insert awkward silence, followed by confused looks and drunken stammering. Apparently Black Haus is not served on the west coast. It was as if i fabricated a racist liquor, like White Power Vodka or Honkey Juice. Can someone please tell me these things before i turn the bar into Watts 2007. I suppose offering fried chicken and watermelon along with the Black Haus was probably over doing it.....but its the House (not Haus) special.

After we held our own personal million man march in cabo we drank our shot.

Fast forward to me this morning with my wallet empty and missing my glasses. On the plus side a good portion of my work morning was spent being drunk still, which is always fun. Its comparable to the day before a holiday. You can almost stand to talk to your co-workers. Sadly, the ensuing hangover comes to crush your spirits around lunch time. Its inevitable.

so what have we learned?

That's right NOTHING. Anything learned has vanished into the black (haus) cloud named "last night". I knew i should have gone to the gym instead. Damn you Cabo.

side note: No myspacin' last night...not that i'd remember. I wanted to include a pic of a calendar with the day crossed out like you see in so many movies. I googled "calendar cross out" and one of the first images was this beauty


Which of course lead me to everyone's favorite site Wikipedia. Thanks to that glorious site I've learned the following about Lucy:

Lucy Katherine Pinder (b. 20 December 1983 in Winchester, Hampshire, England) is a glamour model notable for her large breasts. Unlike most glamour models, Pinder refuses to pose for photographs showing her nipples, although she often poses topless with her nipples barely covered. She is regularly photographed breast-to-breast with other glamour models, including Michelle Marsh and Sophie Howard.She lists some of her dislikes as clowns (especially Pennywise from It), wasps and racism.



She must also detest Black Haus. And that ladies and gentlemen is what we call bringing it back full circle.

yours always and forever

Deltron 3030

Lent: the great sacrifice

Welcome to my blog.

You might be asking yourself: Why are you here?

Here it is:

At lunch yesterday while enjoying some delicious meat (No, not a meat wallet Sandra). I noticed a woman across the room with a filthy forehead. I thought to myself, "wow what an unfortunate birthmark...as there's no way it can already be Ash Wed!”. Sure enough it was. Now by no means am I what you'd call a (insert unnecessary air quotes) “practicing catholic” but I do enjoy the challenge of giving something up for 40 days. My friend mentioned that she planned on giving up Tequila for Lent. I called her out on that. I mean come on, TEQUILA? That's giving up a brand of shot. It's easily substituted for another spirit. That's not sacrifice, you're just changing flavors. That’s as half-assed as saying “I’m giving up grape soda!”. Jesus Christ, our lord and savior, would piss on your efforts! So I offered this suggestion: Give up Myspace. Sadly, this is where our lives have taken us. To quote Ron Burgandy, my space is "kind of a big deal". (Del of 2004, I know it seems hard to believe, but it's true…and I’m sorry) She threw the gauntlet down and challenged me to match her for forty days.

So as of yesterday we’re both off myspace. Will I crack? Will my myspace friends wonder why I’m ignoring them? How will I ever know what Tila Tequila is thinking?

You see…it all comes back to Tequila. I wonder if that’s what Satan was offering JC in the desert.

Satan: “WOO HOO SPRING BREAK! Come on JC, Let’s do a shot of patron!

Jesus: “I’m not feelin’ shots right now. Maybe later I’ll turn some water into wine or something...

Satan: (points around to the desert) “Come on we’re all doing shots!”

Jesus: “nah I’m good...

Satan: “pussy”

Be strong JC

We have hired a third party user to police the “last signed in” dates to verify that the covenant hasn’t been broken. No honor system here. So far I’ve noticed that I’m a bit more productive at work. That’s to be expected. Luckily my office blocked myspace a long time ago. Since that time, getting on via a proxy server has been a hassle that I’ve been forced to accept. No more! I’m a free man. I’d say I’d use this new found time to pick up some hobbies like painting, but my hands won’t stop shaking and I’m covered in sweat…which is weird since its cold in here. Too soon for withdrawal symptoms?

I should go.

Tila, if you’re reading this I still love you very much. See you and your naked friends in 39 days.

Always and forever

Deltron 3030