Gonna Fly Now

Going to the airport is always a trip (ha) early in the morning. Walking to the train at 5am, the only sound the clump clomping of the woman walking in front of me in her wooden clogs, her talking non-stop to a man who can only answer “mm-hmm” like a sitcom husband. He breaks this pattern by letting out a giant spit, the sound seemingly his only way to defy her incessant nonsense chatter.

The train stop is gloomy, not because there’s fog but everyone is going to work and they don’t look happy. The seats are filled with people in black pants and work boots, their polo shirts emblazoned with the company they probably wish they didn’t work for.

Everyone has headphones. Three guys around me bob thief heads up and down and mouth the word, I imagine they’re listening to rap. Most people have their eyes closed, trying to imagine their back in bed with their husband or boyfriend or someone they really want to sleep with.

One man who looks like a Middle Eastern Santa Claus boards the train. He adjusts himself and his large sack into the seat then pulls down his wool cap (which you gotta have in Los Angeles) then wraps a scarf around his entire head. I guess he’s just delivered his packages and really needs sleep. Rest well, I’ve got to get on the other train.



Tickle Me Lawyer


So I get off the bus and I see the above sign in the window but I thought it said¬†“Tickle Lawyers.”¬†Which made me laugh. What if lawyers were fun? What if lawyers were funny?

So let’s take a look. Picture this courtroom situation:

“Miss Silvers, you say that you were on the other side of town at 11:18?”

“Yes that’s correct.”

“Is it really? Getchie get chi goo. Come on now. Who’s the liar? Who’s the liar? I got your nose.”

Or maybe they would lower their fees if tickled. People are known to give in who are extremely ticklish.

“And the rate is $500 per hour. Ha ha. Ok $400. Ha haha ha ha. Okay $300. HAHAHAHAHA. Okay pro bono!”

And the biggest advantage that I see, is that a smiling, laughing, lawyer would probably not be able to contain the truth.

“Ok, seriously, you’re gonna lose. Cut your losses and file bankruptcy. I’ll have you out to my boat and we’ll have a nice sail.”

Lawyers always get a bad rap and I know some lawyers and they deserve it. Just kidding guys, remember you get a free magic show, I get free advice. But even they would admit that the profession could use a little humor. The judge with a giant prop gavel, maybe the DA talks through a ventriloquist dummy, turn that TV show from the 80s, Night Court, into the reality. Sure would make it easier when you ended up losing. And a little tickle would go a long way.


A Conversation Between Angels XII


“Is this check-in?”

“Yes it is. Name?”


“Excuse me.”

“I am pissed.”

“Is that your first name or your last?”

“Neither. My name is Steve and I am pissed off.”

“Well I’m sorry to hear that sir.”

“Yeah well can I talk to God. I mean…a plane crash?”

“I can tell you that God doesn’t control those things, he just set the wheels in motion.”

“Yeah well the big corporations set the wheels in motion and they’re getting bail outs.”

“You know, I really can’t help you, I can get your suite number for you.”

“Jeez, I do everything right: I pay my taxes, stay faithful to my wife, give my kids all the attention and things they need. And then BAM, gone in a second.”

“I really am sorry.”

“Well, how did you, uh, go?”


“Oh no, don’t tell me, in your sleep?

“Well sort of.”

“Sort of? Either you’re asleep or you’re awake?”

“Well my husband died, the love of my life, and I lay down and then joined him.”

“Oh come on! Like the Notebook, you died in bliss? And I turned down that invitation from the twenty-something to join the Mile High Club.”

California is a Tease

I had planned on writing this morning about how California is a tease, that there are not the bikini clad, boobs a bouncin’ in slow motion, that we came to know on such stellar television programming as Baywatch, or any movie or TV show for that matter that showed the California coast or the often used Venice boardwalk where you would always see blondes in short-shorts and roller blades. I was going to warn the young men of this country to keep that bus ticket and stay in Paducah, it’s all a myth and the amount of over-weight women vs thin women I’ve seen in my 2 1/2 years here have been 4, 278 to 1 (I counted.)

But then they sent in a ringer! The California Tourism Board, like the FBI and Target, must be mining blogs like mine that reach over 38 people and swooped in to stop any attempt at tarnish. They sent the absolute most flawless woman to get a snack at the same time I was getting coffee. I have no idea if absolute most flawless woman is grammatically correct because I just start thinking about what she looked like and my brain goes “but-a boo-blist”, which is what I would have said to her if my mouth would have opened. She was wearing an engagement ring, something I can spot approximately 3/4 of a mile away, so I didn’t say anything, but, and I’m sorry to objectify, but I could not stop staring. But she was being paid so it was part of the job. Of course I’m a clever man, being a sleight-of-hand artist, so she had no idea that my eyes could not stop the walk up the most amazing, unblemished, free of any cellulite legs wrapped in disgustingly snug shorts. And I say disgusting because we can not be helped! How can you wear that at 7:30am and expect any male to be able to assemble any thought of decency, especially if you top it off with a very thin tank top and big boobs with those little things in the middle saying “howdy.” You dare to wear a top like that when it’s in the 70s and you step into air conditioning and you can take your “hey, I’m up here” and well, again, we can’t be helped! We don’t try to be disgusting, we just have no control. Of course in this woman’s case, , beautiful eyes, her face was absolutely gorgeous, not a pimple had ever even tried to plant itself on those cheeks and hair pulled back in a ponytail. Of course, it was blonde.

So the Tourism Board has won. I can’t think of anything but great looking women in California now. I thought for a second, okay fourteen, that maybe those breasts weren’t real. I tried to find out by reaching for cream and sugar which I do not use, but nary an arm hair made contact. I actually don’t think they were fake. I think those Tourist guys are on the top of their game. They searched through my past, found anything I’ve ever mentioned about the type of woman I like and found the perfect height, perfect toned body, perfect outfit and paid the woman big bucks for me not to spread any bad publicity to my tens of readers. You’ve won this round California. I’m headed to the beach.

I Miss the El

The difference between the public transportation systems in Chicago and Los Angeles is like the difference between something that’s very organized, convenient and efficient and something that is, not. Now it’s not all the Metro’s fault here in Southern California, it is a very spread out city and there is not the same Loop of Chicago’s downtown. So things don’t bleed into it as nicely from all corners. But there are some rather silly inconsistencies.

To Pay or not to Pay

The platforms of the lines here are all open, there are no turnstiles to pass through in order to access the trains. And the ones that they do have downtown are not locked for admission only if you pay. So really it’s on the honor system. And let’s face it, the honor system probably last worked in the time of Lincoln and that’s just because he was a good role model. But then again he was poor as a kid, so he probably jumped a train or two in his youth as well.

There are signs posted that there is a $250 fine if you’re caught without a ticket. Which people are caught all the time. I don’t know whether they get that fine or not, I do know that there’s not enough LA County sheriffs to monitor all the lines all the time and since I always see them writing someone up, I’m guessing that they’re only catching a small percentage of the offenders. Not that I’m complaining, I pay but I’m sure there’s a lot that can’t and they have to do what they have to do. As well, you have to pay on each line, unlike Chicago (and I think New York) where you get on one line and then you can transfer. Makes more sense to me.

But That’s Not What I Miss

But this blog is not about politics ((unless it’s funny (wait it’s always funny)) or public transportation, this is about the funny side of life. And what I miss most about the El (sorry, short for elevated train if you don’t know) is not the trains or the convenience or the expense, it’s the girls.

You see, nearly every morning during the Summer while I lived in Chicago, I would go to Einstein’s bagels on Southport Avenue, get my Powerbagel with peanut butter, and watch the women going into the station to g0 downtown to work.

Chicago only has a small window when you can see tan bodies; thin straps on golden shoulders and gorgeous legs in a skirt or summer dress wearing flip-flops until they have to change into their work pumps. It would brighten my day and give me the energy (the bagel helped too) to then ride my bike twenty miles along the Chicago lakefront where I could see more skin in bikinis and running shorts. Summer in Chicago is outstanding!

And then there’s the Blue Line

So now I’m in Long Beach, where one would think you could see the gorgeous girls every day of the year boarding the train for work. Nu-uh. Not quite the same scenery.

The equivalent here where I might be able to sit and enjoy a coffee (they have no bagel place downtown) also borders the park. And by park I mean Homeless Fields. It seems to be the main sleeping area for the city’s homeless and so in the early morning hours you are treated to the sights of the smelly and dirty (please excuse me, I’m sorry you’re in that situation, but a stinks a stink) and the grumblings and hangovers of those just waking up or still asleep.

Even just getting on the Blue Line in the morning hoping to catch some attractive women going downtown to work is not the same. You see, Los Angeles’ downtown is not the same as Chicago downtown. That’s not where everyone works; they work on the west side in the film and television industry. So you’re more likely to see a woman wearing skimpy clothes who has no business wearing skimpy clothes and I don’t see how they think it looks good. You see, California is a tease, but that’s tomorrow’s blog…