Monthly Archives: September 2016

September 20, 2016 · 7:53 pm

Bobblehead 

A bobblehead is a kind of collectible toy typically depicting a person or animal with an oversized head. The big head is usually attached by a spring so the the head moves or bobbles when you shake it. I’m pretty sure that’s why they call it a bobblehead. Bobbleheads are now a common giveaway at sporting events. So now I have a nice collection of San Francisco Giants bobbleheads. I have Angel Pagan, Brandon Belt, Brandon Crawford, Travis Ishikawa, Matt Duffy, Bruce Lee and Chewbacca. Here’s a fun fact: Bruce Lee and Chewbacca never played in a single game for the Giants. Here’s another fun fact: you can face swap with a bobblehead on Snapchat. I know because I’ve done it way more than I should have.

Critically Rated at 12/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young 

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September 19, 2016 · 7:57 pm

Bad Walkers

I cruise around the city streets on my longboard almost every day, and I’ve noticed that there are a lot of bad walkers out there. I mean some people just don’t know how to walk. They can’t keep a steady pace, they constantly speed up and slow down. Some can’t walk in a straight line. They will weave from side to side like a drunk at last call. Some people hear my wheels clacking behind them and they will freeze in place like a deer in headlights. Do you know what happens to a deer in headlights? It gets hit by the fucking car. Don’t be a deer in headlights. Don’t freeze in place when you see a skateboarder. I guarantee that the skateboarder already saw you and has adjusted his path to avoid hitting you. 

I see lots of tourists stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to gawk at buildings or look at a map. They don’t seem to realize that they are blocking the flow of pedestrian traffic. And they will give me a dirty look for calling them out on it. I’m not being an asshole, I’m trying to change thier stupid habits and save the world. If you want to walk around in my city, you should know how to fucking walk. Keep a steady pace, hold a straight line, and move with deliberation and intent. Slower traffic should stay to the right side. Waking isn’t that hard. Babies can do it. I know you can too.

Critically Rated at 5/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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September 18, 2016 · 12:54 pm

Beach Day

I didn’t have to work today. I slept in a bit, but dragged myself out of bed when I looked out the window and saw how nice it was outside. It was perfect summer’s day outside (summer might be officially over on the calendar but San Francisco summer is in September and October). I could stay cooped up inside watching football and catching up on Netflix but it seemed like a beach day so I went to the beach.

A beach day is a day when you go to the beach. Today is one of those days. I know that because I’m writing this on the beach right now. You’ve heard of live tweeting but I’m live blogging and taking the Internet to another level. I’m sitting on a towel, sipping on a Mike’s Harder Cranberry Lemonade, and listening to nineties songs on Pandora. I have a sandwich in my bag that I’ll eat after I post this. I’m shirtless too, in case anyone is wondering. Gotta work on my tan.

I see about fifteen dogs scattered all around, chasing balls and birds, frolicking in the water, and occasionally sniffing each other’s butts. I see dudes tossing a frisbee. I see bros throwing a football. I see kids digging in the sand. I see ladies laying out and guys strutting by to impress them. I see a couple trouncing along the shore with a cooler in search of the perfect spot. I see surfers paddling out. I see ships coming into the bay. It’s definitely a beach day. 

Critically Rated at 16/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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September 8, 2016 · 7:03 pm

I Cut My Finger 

I cut my finger at work last week. It wasn’t on purpose. I was cutting some limes to make mojitos and the knife slipped. I cut the tip of my left index finger. I looked down at the damage and saw that it was gushing blood. It hurt. It hurt even worse when the lime juice got into it. I don’t recommend getting citric acid into open wounds. It stings really bad. I quickly washed the cut, wrapped a paper towel around it, and slinked towards the back office to find a manager. The paper towel was completely soaked with blood through by the time I found one.

My manager gave me first aid. He cleaned out the cut better than I did. He put some antibacterial cream on it and wrapped it up with gauze. Then he told me to sit down and keep my arm raised above my head until the bleeding stopped. It took about forty-five minutes to stop. I’m glad it stopped because that meant I didn’t have to go to the hospital and get stitches. I would have gotten worker’s compensation but it would have been a huge hassle and I don’t like hassles. 

The best part about cutting your finger at work is you get a half day. I left early and went to the drugstore to get some bandaids and liquid bandage. Liquid bandage is cool. You should get it the next time you cut or nick yourself. It’s an antiseptic that acts like a second layer of skin. It’s more flexible and waterproof than a regular bandaid. 

It’s been about a week and it’s almost fully healed. It was a deep cut so it will need a few more days. I can’t wait to have use of all ten fingers again. I’m tired of being a gimp. 

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September 3, 2016 · 2:21 pm

The Pretzel Incident 

I went to a San Francisco Giants game last summer with a bunch of friends and the girl I was seeing at the time. We all bought tickets in different sections so we decided to move to the bleachers so we could all sit together. We sat in front of a spot that was empty except for an abandoned half-eaten pretzel and a pile of discarded peanut shells. I was sitting there watching the game, talking and laughing and enjoying being alive, and I turned to my girl to give her a kiss. But I couldn’t because she was eating a pretzel. I thought that was odd because we didn’t go on a food run yet. I asked her where she got the pretzel. She pointed to the spot behind me where the pile of discarded peanut shells was. The abandoned half-eaten pretzel was no longer there. It was in her hand. And her mouth. And I couldn’t even look her in the eye. It was horrible. It still is. And it’s come to be known as the Pretzel Incident. I pray you never experience it for yourself.

Critically Rated at 3/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young 

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