Sometimes, in a dark, introspective moment, you really feel like you and Ice Cube just see the world differently. Here's how he and I differ when deciding whether or not we've had a good day.
Let's see how O'Shea and myself differ...
Breakfast. I really think that hog is a pretty major contributor to the breakfast experience. Also, it constitutes a good day for me that, at this age, I can afford to live in my own place and not have my mom cook me breakfast every day.
Driving. Not only am I not concerned about hitting a switch and making my drop top's ass drop, I never check my mirror for carjackers. And if I do check my mirror for carjackers and there aren't any in sight, I don't chalk that up to it being a good day, more of, ya know, every single day of my life. (Except the day my car got stolen, though that was by bandits and not carjackers.)
Basketball. While I do think a spirited pick-up game would be a major contributor to a good day, I feel like I'd want to put in maximum effort. If I'm just fucking around and still get a triple-double, then really, my competition isn't hearty enough. Plus, who keeps track of their assists in a pick-up game?
Playing craps and dominoes. I'd rather play Taboo or Scattergories. Or flip cup. And if we're playing for money, then it's Mario Kart 64, and we're playing $25 a race. The only shake 'em up, shake 'em up, shake 'em up, shake 'em I want to do involves activating a lightning bolt at the precise time necessary to win on the Moo Moo Farm.
Nobody I know getting killed in South Central L.A.I don't know anyone in South Central L.A. So this is every day for me. Every single day of my life.
Having sex with girls you've wanted to have sex with since the 12th grade. Quit living in the past, man. Getting with someone you graduated with multiple years after the fact is quite desperate.
What are we going to talk about post-coitally? How fun homecoming 1996 was? What a tough teacher Mr. Vehar was? How we promise not to act weird around each other when we see each other again at Thanksgiving? Doesn't sound like a good day at all.
I'm fairly indifferent toward the result of this matchup.
The Lakers beating the Supersonics. Who? Oh, you mean the Oklahoma City Thunder. Naw, I'd prefer the Lakers losing.
Helicopters looking for a murder. I get excited when a police helicopter is flying around. Shining its light, generating all sorts of noise, making everyone run and lock their doors. It's an exciting, rite-of-passage L.A. experience, like watching car chases on the news, seeing Wilmer Valderrama hit on a girl you're talking to, or making up excuses why you don't want to go on a hike to the Hollywood sign at 8 A.M. on a Sunday.
Fatburger. Fatburger's just not a big deal. I've tried to like Fatburger no less than two dozen times since I moved to this city, and eternally called myself an idiot for doing so. It's twice as expensive as In-N-Out, it takes forever for them to make your food, and, most importantly, it doesn't taste very good.
Using my A.K. Well, in my case, A.K. stands for Abbot Kinney, a street here in Venice. It has lots of restaurants, bars, a Pinkberry... and, on top of all that, it serves as a decent, lower-traffic hypotenuse for a lot of the places I need to drive to. So for me, using A.K. IS part of a good day.
Seeing the lights of the Goodyear blimp saying that I'm a pimp.Do I really care if all 2,400 fans at an L.A. Galaxy game get to read that message?
This post was originally published on Friday, May 8, 2009 at 12:01:00 AM under the category Music.