Comics! Dudeventures! Hospitals! Danger!
The job search continues and goes not well at all. But that doesn't matter, I have found my true calling! I've decided I'm going to become a black comedy writer. It works for Tyler Perry. By, like, a lot. I can write just as much as he can! Move over, Tyler Perry's House of Black People, and Madea's Big Black Ass Takes A Dump! I'm comin' at ya, straight outta Compton! --some 18 years ago! When you can't find work, you go where the blacktion is.
On a slightly less bitter (and a whole lot less racist!) note, I went to Pico with mom for, say it with me now, Fam-tastic Easter Festivities! Of course, when we get to my Tia's house, uncle Johnny tells us they just took grandma to the hospital. Again. That maybe dampened the mood a little. We decided to go to the park anyway and try and have a good time. It wasn't bad. Things were okay until cousin Pedro and his friends reminded me of just how uncool I am, even by our family's standards. I think to myself quite a bit that my wardrobe could use more color. But standing next to Pedro and his black and gray posse made me feel like the fucking candy kid from Little Nemo in my bright red track jacket and blue adidases. I look young for my age as it is, and for a moment I felt like sucking my thumb wouldn't look a bit out of place. But I wouldn't look very good in pants that tight, so I think I'm all right. Yes.
Before I forget about how damned childish I am, I asked cousin Omar why he didn't bring his DS, 'cause we have pending pokemon action. I'm pretty sure he's got a Shaymin and I'm going to offer my head off until I can get it. Haw. Sweet kid, that Omar, but he brought a friend too. Couldn't have been older than 12 and even he looked older than I did. Fuckin' skate punk. What if it IS the tight pants and purple sneakers? I need to look into this, maybe. I think I'll just start wearing tights so people will be all like, "Aw, there goes old man Serge." Oh! And a driving cap.
I can make this work.
I think Lizzet is in middle school now? You can already tell how pretty she's going to be. When she thought one of Pedro's friends was going to crack and egg on her head, her eyes went wide and she says, "Fuck you!"
That girl is going to be beautiful.
After having a few confetti-filled eggs cracked on my head (And totally smacking up my mom with one!) Noel showed up and off we went on a fantabulous dudeventure of journeyocity! Actually, we went to Beverly Hospital first to try and see grandma. We got our cute little visitor badges and were sent to SCU3 (Special Care Unit, I'm guessing?) but when we got there her room was empty and I was all OMG! and shit. The nurse there told us she was undergoing some tests but they didn't know when she'd be back. So we left, figuring we'd hear where she was along the grapevine. Noel then took my to Comic City, ooh. After a little bit of ogling (Spider-Manga! ¡El Asombroso Hombre-Araña Presenta Los Hombres-X!) and chatting up the lady who was there by herself, I left with a back-issue of Blue Beetle #6, it was the earliest issue I could get. Yes, that's right. I am now officially sailing aboard the good ship fanboypop regarding a certain mayhican superhero. Also, I now have an actual-factual issue to prop up behind my somewhat lonely Blue Beetle action figure. And did you know his name is also awesome to say in Spanish? ¡Escarabajo Azul! Or rather that's what I assume it should be. To the geek-cave, ho!
It wasn't until after we got back that my mom tells us grandma was still in the ER and not at all where the hospital told us she was. Because she would know better than the staff. Whatever.
After the comic shop, our adventure took us to East LA so that I could do some more ogling. This time it was grafitti. We went into this place called The Garage, which Noel thought was literally a garage. No, turns out it's a shop what sells art supplies, does tats, silk screening, and even has a little skate park in the back. Oh, yeah, they sell skate decks too, I guess. I don't think it was for sale, but they had this cool furry Fargo hat that was spraypainted day-glo Orange perched on one of the clothes racks. I told Noel I wanted it and he was all, "But dude, that's for girls." Oh, how little he knows me.
Like I give a shit. I would have worn that until the second coming. And, should the need for one arise, the third.
Leg three of the dudeventurous journeyocity took us to Hollywood and Highland.
Hey! We saw two dudes fight! And I think they were together. Like, together, together. They wore semi-matching outfits and were fairly well groomed. I can only assumed they smelled very nice, too. And I'm talking for reals fisticuffs, here. It was a ferociously effeminate fracas! More F-words go here! There was shoving against corrugated metal doors, tearing shit out of each other's hands, and my personal favorite, the piggyback choke hold of death! It was a right kerfuffle.
Speaking of smells, the reek of hippie in the restrooms drove us away until we reached Amoeba.
What a happy accident! Not really. It wasn't until after we left that I realized There was a shitload more I wanted to look for. Not that it really mattered, as unemployment has crippled what was once a pretty nice flow of monies to my person. But! And this is a fairly hefty but! We found out Zoe is going to be playing at Amoeba on the 27th. Joy! I am totally coming back to this, for it excites me in ways only Mexican electro-rock can! I like big buts and I cannot lie! As a matter of fact, I heard Zoe's new single, Nada for the first time on the radio on the way home from Mr. Larsen's funeral. I suppose I was in the right state of mind for that song to endear itself to me, but I fuckin' loves it.
Which brings me to this less than exciting bit of trivia. On Thursday it will be three months since Mr. Larsen died. A bummer to be sure. Paul hasn't been able to stop by for a long-ass time. I've got about two months' worth of mail to give him, and I'm curious as to what will happen to Mr. Larsen's house, as well as his belongings still inside. His mother's ashes are still in the house, as is the piano commemorating his parents' 20 year anniversary. I'd hate to see anything happen to those items. His estranged sister lives in Texas, if I remember, but I don't she's capable of making the trip to California. Nor do I know anyone who'd be willing to take these things to her in Tay-has. Omg, I just called Mr. Larsen's mom a thing. And if I weren't skeeved enough by that, I also want to ask about the fate of his record player. I mean, I don't want to pick his carcass clean or anything like that, I'm just curious. I'd be willing to buy it if that's what it took, but either way I just don't like the thought of these things being forgotten and gathering dust or just plain thrown out.
I'll try and give Paul a call this weekend and see what's what.
Pásatelas bien.
If you save me I promise I will be nicer to poor people from now on unless you don't like them for some reason and that's why they're poor
Comes by the gross
Serge
On a slightly less bitter (and a whole lot less racist!) note, I went to Pico with mom for, say it with me now, Fam-tastic Easter Festivities! Of course, when we get to my Tia's house, uncle Johnny tells us they just took grandma to the hospital. Again. That maybe dampened the mood a little. We decided to go to the park anyway and try and have a good time. It wasn't bad. Things were okay until cousin Pedro and his friends reminded me of just how uncool I am, even by our family's standards. I think to myself quite a bit that my wardrobe could use more color. But standing next to Pedro and his black and gray posse made me feel like the fucking candy kid from Little Nemo in my bright red track jacket and blue adidases. I look young for my age as it is, and for a moment I felt like sucking my thumb wouldn't look a bit out of place. But I wouldn't look very good in pants that tight, so I think I'm all right. Yes.
Before I forget about how damned childish I am, I asked cousin Omar why he didn't bring his DS, 'cause we have pending pokemon action. I'm pretty sure he's got a Shaymin and I'm going to offer my head off until I can get it. Haw. Sweet kid, that Omar, but he brought a friend too. Couldn't have been older than 12 and even he looked older than I did. Fuckin' skate punk. What if it IS the tight pants and purple sneakers? I need to look into this, maybe. I think I'll just start wearing tights so people will be all like, "Aw, there goes old man Serge." Oh! And a driving cap.
I can make this work.
I think Lizzet is in middle school now? You can already tell how pretty she's going to be. When she thought one of Pedro's friends was going to crack and egg on her head, her eyes went wide and she says, "Fuck you!"
That girl is going to be beautiful.
After having a few confetti-filled eggs cracked on my head (And totally smacking up my mom with one!) Noel showed up and off we went on a fantabulous dudeventure of journeyocity! Actually, we went to Beverly Hospital first to try and see grandma. We got our cute little visitor badges and were sent to SCU3 (Special Care Unit, I'm guessing?) but when we got there her room was empty and I was all OMG! and shit. The nurse there told us she was undergoing some tests but they didn't know when she'd be back. So we left, figuring we'd hear where she was along the grapevine. Noel then took my to Comic City, ooh. After a little bit of ogling (Spider-Manga! ¡El Asombroso Hombre-Araña Presenta Los Hombres-X!) and chatting up the lady who was there by herself, I left with a back-issue of Blue Beetle #6, it was the earliest issue I could get. Yes, that's right. I am now officially sailing aboard the good ship fanboypop regarding a certain mayhican superhero. Also, I now have an actual-factual issue to prop up behind my somewhat lonely Blue Beetle action figure. And did you know his name is also awesome to say in Spanish? ¡Escarabajo Azul! Or rather that's what I assume it should be. To the geek-cave, ho!
It wasn't until after we got back that my mom tells us grandma was still in the ER and not at all where the hospital told us she was. Because she would know better than the staff. Whatever.
After the comic shop, our adventure took us to East LA so that I could do some more ogling. This time it was grafitti. We went into this place called The Garage, which Noel thought was literally a garage. No, turns out it's a shop what sells art supplies, does tats, silk screening, and even has a little skate park in the back. Oh, yeah, they sell skate decks too, I guess. I don't think it was for sale, but they had this cool furry Fargo hat that was spraypainted day-glo Orange perched on one of the clothes racks. I told Noel I wanted it and he was all, "But dude, that's for girls." Oh, how little he knows me.
Like I give a shit. I would have worn that until the second coming. And, should the need for one arise, the third.
Leg three of the dudeventurous journeyocity took us to Hollywood and Highland.
Hey! We saw two dudes fight! And I think they were together. Like, together, together. They wore semi-matching outfits and were fairly well groomed. I can only assumed they smelled very nice, too. And I'm talking for reals fisticuffs, here. It was a ferociously effeminate fracas! More F-words go here! There was shoving against corrugated metal doors, tearing shit out of each other's hands, and my personal favorite, the piggyback choke hold of death! It was a right kerfuffle.
Speaking of smells, the reek of hippie in the restrooms drove us away until we reached Amoeba.
What a happy accident! Not really. It wasn't until after we left that I realized There was a shitload more I wanted to look for. Not that it really mattered, as unemployment has crippled what was once a pretty nice flow of monies to my person. But! And this is a fairly hefty but! We found out Zoe is going to be playing at Amoeba on the 27th. Joy! I am totally coming back to this, for it excites me in ways only Mexican electro-rock can! I like big buts and I cannot lie! As a matter of fact, I heard Zoe's new single, Nada for the first time on the radio on the way home from Mr. Larsen's funeral. I suppose I was in the right state of mind for that song to endear itself to me, but I fuckin' loves it.
Which brings me to this less than exciting bit of trivia. On Thursday it will be three months since Mr. Larsen died. A bummer to be sure. Paul hasn't been able to stop by for a long-ass time. I've got about two months' worth of mail to give him, and I'm curious as to what will happen to Mr. Larsen's house, as well as his belongings still inside. His mother's ashes are still in the house, as is the piano commemorating his parents' 20 year anniversary. I'd hate to see anything happen to those items. His estranged sister lives in Texas, if I remember, but I don't she's capable of making the trip to California. Nor do I know anyone who'd be willing to take these things to her in Tay-has. Omg, I just called Mr. Larsen's mom a thing. And if I weren't skeeved enough by that, I also want to ask about the fate of his record player. I mean, I don't want to pick his carcass clean or anything like that, I'm just curious. I'd be willing to buy it if that's what it took, but either way I just don't like the thought of these things being forgotten and gathering dust or just plain thrown out.
I'll try and give Paul a call this weekend and see what's what.
Pásatelas bien.
If you save me I promise I will be nicer to poor people from now on unless you don't like them for some reason and that's why they're poor
Comes by the gross
Serge