Category Archives: Random Rants

Everyday items like money to days of the week to common situations.

November 26, 2015 · 1:02 pm

Leaving Your Toothbrush in a Weird Spot

Last night was the night before Thanksgiving, and that’s the most popular night to go out to a bar of the entire year. Needless to say, I went to the bar last night. And even more needlessly to say, I got a little buzzed. And by getting buzzed, I mean I got pretty drunk. I know because I couldn’t find my toothbrush when I woke up. It’s normally next to my tube of toothpaste in a cup by the side of the bathroom sink. It wasn’t there. It wasn’t in the medicine cabinet. It wasn’t in a random drawer. I was about to accuse my roommate of using it, losing it, or doing something unusual with it, when I decided to look for it some where else other than in the bathroom. I found it in my room, next to my computer. I can only assume that my drunk ass brushed my teeth while watching Netflix and decided to pass out in bed instead of putting it away. Leaving your toothbrush in a weird spot the night before means a frantic search the next morning. It’s not an ideal start to the day.

Critically Rated at 6/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

  

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November 22, 2015 · 10:18 pm

Can I Ask You a Question?

Can I ask you a question? is the worst way to ask somebody if you can ask them a question. For starters, you’re already asking a question by asking if you can ask a question, thereby defeating the whole point of asking if you can ask a question. What if they don’t want you to ask a question and you already asked them? You should really be asking if you can ask two questions, and if they give approval, then you can ask your follow-up question, which is your actual question. With me so far? Any questions? No? Good. My point is this: don’t ask if you can ask a question. Just ask your question or ask if you ask two questions, and then ask your question. It’s not that hard.

Critically Rated at 4/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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November 20, 2015 · 1:05 pm

My Black Eye

I had the day off yesterday and celebrated by going to the park with some friends. We played cards, listened to music, ate some chips and dip, and threw a baseball around. We played catch, getting farther and farther away from each other, and that eventually morphed into an impromptu game of Three Flies Up. I was jostling for position to catch a fly ball, slightly bumping into my friend, I raised my glove, missed the ball entirely, and had it land directly onto my eye with a sickening thud. THONK!! There was a blinding flash and my eye started swelling up immediately. My friends ran over in an instant, laughing and voicing concern simultaneously as good friends should do. One handed me an ice pack, another cracked open a beer for me, and another asked if I could see out of my eye, if I had a headache, or if my eye socket was broken.

It’s not a good feeling to catch a baseball with an eye. It sucks pretty hard. It’s like getting punched in the eye. I consider myself lucky though. As shitty as my reflexes are, I still managed to close my eye instead of having the baseball land directly on my eyeball. I didn’t get hit by the stitches and that would have caused even more damage. I didn’t break my eye socket, or my nose, or lose any of my teeth. If you’re going to catch a baseball with your face, that’s the way to do it.

I can still see out of my eye. It just feels better to let it be swollen shut. I called out of work today, and warned my managers of the dangers of playing catch in the park on your days off. I plan on icing my eye and trying various internet remedies to reduce the swelling. There’s one technique that involves putting cold tea bags on the eye, so I plan on tea bagging myself later. That should be fun. This is my first black eye. I managed to go thirty years without one. Let’s see if I can break that record this time around. I can only hope.

Critically Rated at 4/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

Photo on 11-20-15 at 12.58 PM

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November 18, 2015 · 3:27 pm

1880 Penny

A few years ago I was bartending and was about to throw a handful of change into my tip jar when a weird penny caught my eye. It was the same size, shape, and color of a regular penny but the design was different. There was no Abraham Lincoln for starters. There was an Indian instead. The Lincoln Memorial wasn’t depicted on the back either. It just said One Cent in the middle of wreath. I thought it might have been Canadian, but it had United States of America written around the Indian’s head. I looked at it a little closer and noticed the year the coin was minted underneath the Indian. It was made in 1880. That blew my mind. I was holding a piece of history in my hand. 1880 was a long time ago. It was way before planes, cars, iPhones, and your shoes (and your shoes are old as fuck). Cowboys could have used this penny in their poker games. Your grandpa could have used it at the brothel the night he met your grandma. She was cheap but worth it. Without that penny, you might not exist. I kept that 1880 penny. I still have it to this day. I don’t plan on getting rid of it anytime soon. I looked up its value. It’s not in the best condition, but it’s still worth at least $4. That doesn’t seem like a lot until you consider that it’s increased over 400% in value. Kind of makes me wish I found an 1880 silver dollar instead.

Critically Rated at 15/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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November 16, 2015 · 7:38 pm

Picking Your Nose With Your Tongue

I was on the train today during rush hour. That means we were packed in there, jammed together like sardines. I was face to face with one guy, probably around twenty-eight years hold who was reading a book. Every now and then he would flick his tongue into a nostril, wiggle it around some, retract it, do a slight nibble, and then repeat the process on his other nostril. It took me a few lizard licks to realize that he was picking his nose with his tongue. It was as impressive as it was disgusting. I’ve seen a lot of shit in San Francisco. I’ve never experienced anything quite like that. My tongue can’t extend that far. Even if it could, I wouldn’t do that. Boogers are meant to be flicked, not eaten.

Critically Rated at 3/17

Written Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H Young

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November 15, 2015 · 3:22 pm

Washing Your Car After It Rains

It rained earlier this morning. I didn’t have to work so I slept in and lied in bed listening to the raindrops patter against the window. After a while I rolled out of bed, and started my day by driving to the store to pick up some stuff. I drove past a guy who was washing his car in his driveway. I had to do a double take. I looked again and confirmed that he was indeed washing his car after a fresh rain. I wanted to stop and ask him why he was washing it. Washing your car after it rains seems a little redundant. You don’t need to wash your car, nature took care of that for you. Now you’re just wasting water in the middle of a drought. I thought he was a jerk and set out to write a blog post about how stupid it is to wash your car after it rains. I Googled “washing your car after it rains” to find pictures and to do a little research for an adequate rant and discovered that washing your car after it rains is what you’re supposed to do. It’s good for the paint because rainwater has salt and pollutants in it or something. I didn’t know that. Now I do. I learned my lesson. You’re not crazy if you’re washing your car after it rains. You’re responsible and I’m sorry I doubted you. I still think it weird though.

Critically Rated at 11/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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November 13, 2015 · 8:38 pm

Trapped on the Train with a Crazy Guy

I was taking the train to work this morning and there was a little bit of traffic in the underground. I got delayed in the tunnel for about ten minutes. That happens a few times a month and it’s not so bad as long as you’re not overly claustrophobic or scared of earthquakes. This morning was different because I was trapped on the train with a crazy guy. He was a white guy, probably in his late twenties, wearing a gray hoodie and he was banging on the doors and screaming for the train to move at the top of his voice. He wasn’t yelling for the driver to move the train. He was yelling at the actual train. The driver was in the first train car, and we were in the second. I don’t think the driver knew what was going on. The crazy guy would take occasional breaks from screaming to run up and down the length of the train. There were two other guys besides me in our car and we were all a few seats away from each other. We all made eye contact with each other, silently acknowledging that there was a crazy guy running amok and that we had each other’s backs in case the crazy guy got even crazier. Ten minutes stuck in a tunnel seems longer than ten minutes. It’s even longer with a crazy guy. I don’t recommend it. I waited it out and the train eventually moved, the doors opened, I went to work, and the crazy guy stormed off to presumably find another inanimate object to yell at. Just another day in the city.

Critically Rated at 4/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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November 12, 2015 · 6:33 pm

My Boss Has Nice Facial Hair

My boss has nice facial hair. No, seriously. His name is Jesus Treviño and he’s a finalist for the title of Best Facial Hair in the Country by Wahl Grooming. It might be a marketing gimmick, but it’s still pretty impressive to see his nicely manicured face fuzz getting some well-deserved recognition. I woke up this morning to a nice article about him in the local paper. I included the link to the article below. The article also has a link to the official Wahl Grooming voting page. I don’t vote for presidents, but I voted for Jesus. You should too. Jesus Treviño is an awesome manager and a better person and he deserves to win something. He was always picked last in gym class and now it’s his time to shine. Please take a minute out of you day and vote for him. Vote for Jesus and save your soul.

Critically Rated at 17/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

http://www.sfgate.com/living/article/Jesus-Trevino-SF-facial-hair-6625733.php

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November 11, 2015 · 2:38 pm

Damn, That Was a Year Ago?!?

Tick tock goes the clock and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. I’ve learned that life has to be lived in the moment because that’s when it’s happening. If you do it right then good moments become good memories. Social media makes it easier to remember a lot of things because we document so much of our lives these days. I’ve noticed that Facebook has started showing me pictures of events and milestones on their anniversaries. I’ll see a picture of me and some friends sitting in a tree drinking beer and think to myself, “Damn, that was a year ago?!?” The memories will come flooding back, I’ll smile and reminisce for a minute, and then I’ll repost it and tag the people involved so we can all bask in the golden glow of the good old days. Memories aren’t memories unless you remember them from time to time.

Critically Rated at 17/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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November 8, 2015 · 5:23 pm

Neighborhood Mechanic

My car broke down earlier this week. My roommate and I tried to jumpstart it. That didn’t work. My friend took me to an auto parts store to buy a new battery. We took it back, installed it, and my car still wouldn’t start. I accepted the inevitable and made an appointment with a nearby mechanic. I don’t know a lot about cars, but I knew that it was going to cost me a lot of money. I would have to pay to get it towed to the mechanic, I would have to pay for a stupid part, and I would have to pay a bullshit amount for the labor. Needless to say, I was stressing out.

The next day was street cleaning and my car was parked directly in the line of fire. My roommate helped me push my car across the street to avoid getting a ticket, and we spent the next hour and a half hunkered down in my car waiting for the street sweeper and the meter maids to go by so I could reclaim my parking spot. While we were waiting we noticed one of our neighbors working on a car and my roommate commented that he always sees that guy working on different cars all day long. My roommate went over to the guy and struck up a conversation. Before I knew it they were walking towards me and the guy told me to spark the ignition. I did and he instantly said that I have a faulty distributor. He told me to pop the hood and he took a look. He pointed out the problem, told me how much the part would be, and offered to order it off eBay and install it for me.

He gave me his number, I gave him a spare key, and he told me he would let me know when my car was fixed. He kept me updated all throughout the week. He told me when he ordered the part. He told me when it arrived. He told me when he was starting to work on it. And he told me when he was done. He even saved a parking spot for me to move back into. All told, I spent about $220 for parts and he charged me $70 for labor. I gave him a tip on top of it because how could I not?

It sucks that my car broke down, but it broke down in the best possible place at the best possible time because I got to meet the neighborhood mechanic. He saved me at least five hundred bucks. He’s now my official mechanic. It’s hard to find someone that you can trust and rely on, but good mechanics are out there. You just have to hope your car breaks down in front of them.

Critically Rated at 16/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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November 6, 2015 · 8:34 pm

Snakeskin Pants

Once upon a time, about eleven years ago or so, I was invited to an ’80s party. That’s when you dress up in attire from the wonderful decade known as the 1980s. I didn’t have anything that could pass off as ‘80s, so I went to the thrift store. I found a pair of snakeskin pants for forty bucks. I bought them. I wore them to the party and received plenty of compliments (as I should have). If there was a contest, I would have won that shit. I’m not trying to brag, I’m simply trying to stress how amazing my pants were. My pants are still amazing in fact. I still have them and I rock them every so often when the situation calls for them. I wore them for Halloween this year for instance. I was an ‘80s zombie rock star.

I live in San Francisco and there’s always an occasion for wacky clothing. We have Bay to Breakers, Hardly Strictly, and random street fairs. Every true San Franciscan has some absurd clothing in their wardrobe. I have a leather trench coat, a shiny green silk shirt, and a camouflage Snuggie for instance. But my snakeskin pants are still the reigning champ of my absurd wardrobe. I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

Critically Rated at 14/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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November 1, 2015 · 2:38 pm

Flea Market

Last week I went to a flea market. A flea market is a magical place where vendors set up shop to sell random items and knickknacks. My sister and her fiancé invited me to tag along and I went without really knowing what to expect. I imagined it would be like a giant garage sale with lots of old furniture, broken appliances, and soiled clothing. I was hoping to find ninja stars and various martial arts weapons. The flea market turned out to be a lot more glorious than I ever thought possible.

We went to the Treasure Island Flea, one of the biggest flea markets in the San Francisco Bay Area. It happens on the last weekend of every month. We pulled up to the gates and got directed to the parking lot by a slew of unenthusiastic parking attendants. We parked the car and approached the main gate. There was a three-dollar cover charge to get in. I won’t even go to a club that has a cover charge, but I reluctantly forked over a few dollars. As soon as we walked in we saw a booth with a huge line. We walked over to see what they were selling. It was booze. They sell alcohol at the flea market. That was pretty amazing. It was even more amazing that I didn’t stop to pick up a drink.

We walked around, looking at all the booths and the excessive amounts of merchandise on display. About half the flea market seemed to be antiques. We saw lots of artwork in the form of sculptures, statues, paintings, posters, and small prints. We saw lots of clothes, some new and trendy, but mostly old and retro fashions. There was gourmet food for sale. There was a ton of books and classic comics for display. We found a treasure trove of old video game systems and cartridges. There was a bunch of old toys and sporting equipment like battered baseball gloves and janky golf clubs. There was bunch of power tools and hand tools that had seen better days. I didn’t find any ninja stars, but there was a nice assortment of knives and machetes.

I left the flea market with a new used baseball glove and a 14-inch Bowie knife. I already had a baseball glove but now I have two and that makes it easier to play a game of catch (now I just have to find a friend to throw with, not a friend who also has a glove to throw with). The Bowie knife was more of an impulse buy, but I had to get it. The zombie apocalypse is approaching and no arsenal is complete without a Bowie knife. I could have gotten a machete, but the knife came with a leather sheath and a handguard that can double as brass knuckles. It’s dull as fuck, but it will still do damage to the undead. If I survive the zombie apocalypse, it will partially be because of the flea market.

Critically Rated at 12/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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October 29, 2015 · 4:12 pm

Watching the Game at the Laundromat

I got rid of cable a few years ago and I only regret not being able to watch sports at home. My options are kind of limited. I can watch games a friend’s house or at a bar somewhere. But it dawned on me as I was doing laundry earlier today that I can watch the game at the laundromat. The laundromat that I go to has cable TV, a few chairs to relax on, and is hardly ever crowded so I could control the remote. I figure I can go there as a last resort if I ever need to. I would do a couple loads of laundry, taking as much time as possible while sipping on a couple of tall boys. I’d be a paying customer so I could get away with it. I think it’s a great idea. I’m surprised that it took me thirty years to think of it.

Critically Rated at 13/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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October 28, 2015 · 8:21 pm

Ink On Your Hands

I’m a server for a living and I rely on pens to do my job. I use them to write down orders and give them to customers for signing credit card slips. Pens are an essential part of my life. I rely on them. And sometimes they betray me. Sometimes I go to pull a pen out of my apron and I look down to discover with dismay that my hands are covered in ink. It doesn’t happen too often, but it happens more than I would like. Getting ink on your hands sucks. Your hands are stained blue or black and you know that everyone notices. You have to wash your hands as quickly and thoroughly as possible. You don’t want to be that guy with ink hands all day. Ink is not easy to get off either. You have to scrub it until your hands get raw. And people will see you compulsively washing your hands and ask you why you’re doing that. And you’ll have to say it’s because you got ink on your hands. They will laugh at you, pretend to sympathize, and walk away chuckling about your mishap. They are right to mock you. Their hands are clean and yours have ink all over them. You should feel lousy.

Critically Rated at 5/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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October 25, 2015 · 8:57 pm

Pregret

Have you ever regretted something that you haven’t done yet? There’s a word for that. It’s called pregret. The dictionary says that it’s not a real word, but the Urban Dictionary says it’s perfectly valid. I prefer to believe shit that I see online. Pregret is a great word. We end up doing a lot of things that we don’t want to do. It’s only natural that we have a way to say it. You can pregret a night of drinking because you know you’ll have a raging hangover the next day. You can pregret taking a job because you know you’ll make more money but have less time off to spend it. You can pregret accepting an invitation to an event out of politeness because you don’t really want to go to. Just because you pregret it doesn’t mean it’s not worthwhile though. Man up, and carpe diem.

Critically Rated at 13/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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October 21, 2015 · 12:01 am

October 21, 2015

It’s October 21, 2015. It’s a holiday. If you don’t know why, you’re not a real nerd. Today is the day that Marty McFly traveled to in the future in Back to the Future Part II. I was born in 1985, which is Marty McFly’s main year and timeframe. I grew up watching the Back to the Future trilogy. I went on the ride at Universal Studios Hollywood. I watched the terrible cartoon. I feel a personal connection to the franchise. I’ve been waiting my whole life for this day. And here it is. I don’t know how to celebrate. I can’t take a victory lap around the block on a hoverboard. All I can do is blog about it and get the word out. That’s what this is. We are in the future. The future is now. Soon it will be the past. But for now it’s still now and I will take that. It’s Back to the Future Day. Embrace it.

Critically Rated at 15/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

back-to-the-future-II-2015

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October 14, 2015 · 8:10 pm

Time Discrepancy

A few weeks ago I noticed that the time displayed on my laptop is different from the time on my phone. There was a two-minute difference. I tried to ignore it for a while, but the time discrepancy kept growing. Now there’s a four-minute difference. I don’t know why. Maybe it has something to do with black holes, vortexes, or aliens, but there’s definitely something spooky happening. I know it’s my laptop that’s wrong because my phone and tablet show the same time. It’s kind of weird because laptop, phone, and tablet are all Apple products and they are all on the same Wi-Fi network. My laptop thinks that it’s in the future. It could be. It’s hard to tell. A four-minute window into the future isn’t much to go on. And even if it was in the future, a four-minute window isn’t much help. I need at least ten minutes if I’m going to save the world. I’ve thought about this too much.

Critically Rated at 8/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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