Category Archives: Random Rants

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

Correcting Autocorrect 

Autocorrect is both a blessing and a curse. I like the fact that it makes typing on my phone faster and easier but it’s not perfect. Sometimes it changes words or phrases without you noticing and you end up looking stupid. Sometimes it changes something you typed correctly and you end up looking stupid. My friend asked me what days I’m free. I told him I always have Sundays off. Autocorrect changed Sundays to Sunday’s. I don’t like looking stupid. I had to go back to correct autocorrect and that defeats the whole point of having autocorrect. Correcting autocorrect seems counterintuitive. I shouldn’t have to do it. Life is hard enough already.

Critically Rated at 5/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Shoulder Tap Compliment 

A couple of days ago my buddy texted me asking my opinion on which SF Giants jersey he should get. We brainstormed for a while. Getting a new jersey is a big deal. Do you go current or retro? The name and number you choose to wear should have a reason behind it. I tossed out a few ideas and he ended up deciding on a retro 1993 Rod Beck #47. That’s a great fucking choice. Rod Beck was a beast of a closer but he’s kind of overlooked because there are so many great Giants players. You hardly see anybody rocking his jersey. I told my friend that he’s going to get a lot of shoulder tap compliments from Giants fans.

A shoulder tap compliment is the best kind of compliment. It’s when you’re doing something so great that a complete stranger feels the need to tap you on the shoulder and tell you how awesome you are. Most compliments are given by friends or family members because they noticed that you did something different and they feel like they have to comment on it. It seems more like an observation than an actual compliment. But you know you really got a good jersey when a random person tells you that you got a good jersey. I know you’re not supposed to talk to strangers but you can take a compliment from one. 

Critically Rated at 15/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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He Pooped.

My girlfriend has a dog. That means I have a dog. Dogs are awesome but they are a lot of responsibility. You have to feed them, give them water, take them for walks, and pick up their shit when they poop in public. And you have to do all that every single day. That dog has become a big part of my life. I realized this when I was texting my girlfriend and my phone auto filled He pooped along with the poop emoji. Every third or fourth text seems to be about if he did or didn’t poop. And sometimes there’s a follow up report if he pooped like He pooped twice! Or He pooped but it was runny. I don’t mind. I love the little bastard. But I talk about his poop way more than I should. 

Critically Rated at 9/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Automatic Toilets

A lot of public restrooms are using automatic toilets these days. Those are toilets that uses sensors to flush automatically. They are supposedly more hygienic because you don’t have to use your hands, but it’s still a public toilet. It’s going to be disgusting no matter what. I don’t like automatic toilets. I don’t trust them. Sometimes they flush too early before I throw in my used toilet paper. Sometimes they don’t flush at all and my shit is on display for the lucky next person who ventures into the stall. They let me down each time I’m forced to use one. I can flush just fine by myself. I don’t need technology to do it for me. 

Critically Rated at 7/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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My Neighbor Bruno

I have a neighbor named Bruno. He’s an interesting guy. He’s in his seventies and lives with his brother and sister in the same house they grew up in. He plays bass in a band. He hosts a radio show. He smokes weed and has for decades. He is old school San Francisco and embodies what makes this city great. 

Bruno is a great neighbor and that is a hard thing to find these days. When I moved in, he came over and introduced himself and welcomed me to the nieghborhood. We always say hello when we see each other and speak when we can. He asks how my roommates are doing, shoots the shit about sports, and updates me on his latest escapades. He talks your ear off but he always has something interesting to say. He sends holiday cards to all the people on the block and reminds them that it’s street cleaning tomorrow and they need to move their car. I’m going to Bruno if I ever need to borrow a cup of sugar. 

Good neighbors are a dying breed, especially in the city. Most people are too buried in their smart phones to engage with the world around them. Bruno takes me back to a different time, when life was more real. He’s the quirky neighbor and wise mentor in the sitcom that is my life. I hope everyone has a Bruno in theirs too.

Critically Rated at 16/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Machete

A machete is a handheld blade that can be used as a tool or as a weapon. It’s versatile. It cuts through enemy skulls, watermelons, and dense jungle shrubbery with ease. They are fondly depicted in American cinema and television. There’s even a Machete film franchise.You see them in war scenes, zombie apocalypses, and carried by intrepid explorers. I have a machete. My girlfriend gave it to me for Christmas. That means she trusts me. I haven’t used it yet, but camping season is approaching and I’m sure I’ll find something to chop. 

Critically Rated at 12/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Broken Escalator

I was going into the subway the other day when I saw a woman approaching the escalator. It wasn’t moving. She saw that it wasn’t working and  then she went out of her way to take the stairs instead. I couldn’t help but laugh at her. She recognized that the escalator was broken but opted to take the stairs, completely unaware that broken escalators are stairs. I don’t get it. Broken escalators look exactly like stairs. Yet I could see her entire thought process unfold in front of me: Damn, the escalator is out of commission. Better take the stairs! That’s the only way out of this mess. I know that I’m an asshole because it doesn’t matter what she’s accomplished in her life, she will always be a failure to me. 

Critically Rated at 4/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Broken Umbrella 

The past few days in San Francisco have been rainy and windy, which means there are a lot of broken umbrellas abandoned in garbage cans across the city. I counted five in a two block radius when I walked my dog earlier. That’s a lot of wet angry people that wish they bought a poncho instead. 

I hate when my umbrella breaks. I’m usually huddled under it when a gust of wind flips it inside out, breaking one of the spoke hinge things. I don’t know what you call those things, but they are crucial for proper umbrella functioning. You’re fucked once one of them breaks. You can either cling to your broken umbrella or throw it away and get soaked. You’re going to look stupid and be miserable no matter what. 

Critically Rated at 5/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Don’t Touch My Chicken Wing

I was starving at work the other day and brought some buffalo wings into the breakroom to scarf down. I sat down and one of my coworkers had the audacity to take one of my wings without asking me first. She just reached her grubby little hand out and snatched one. Well, that really pissed me off and I let her know it. I grabbed the wing back from her and threw it away. I asked her who the fuck she thought she was. I told her that we weren’t homies. She doesn’t get to eat my food. She doesn’t get to touch my food. I let her know that she would have gotten one if she had simply asked. I said none of this nicely, mind you. I was fucking livid. I walked out of the breakroom and handed out a couple of wings to coworkers that I actually am friends with, knowing that they would take the wings back to the breakroom and she would see them eating the same wings that I had fiercely defended. They can have my wings. Her entitled self is forbidden. 

Looking back on it, I know that I overreacted but justice comes at a price. The moral of the story is don’t touch my chicken wing. Don’t assume you can just take one without asking. It’s my food. It’s my property. But if you ask, I’ll be more than happy to let you have one. I might even offer you some ranch to dip it in.

Critically Rated at 11/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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I’m Not Watching Porn, I Swear

It was a gloomy, rainy afternoon today and I spent it watching Netflix. I was watching Hell on Wheels, a show about building the railroad in the Old West and suddenly there was a gratuitous sex scene. That part was pretty awesome. What wasn’t awesome was that my roommates were both home and sound carries down the hall. My TV was loud and they for sure heard the moans and grunts and cheesy music blasting from the speakers. My door was closed but that made it look even worse. To top it off I had to blow my nose earlier so there’s a couple wads of crumpled tissues clearly visible in my garbage can. It’s like the universe is trying to frame me. I’m not watching porn, I swear. I’m just trying to catch up on my shows. Don’t do me like that. 

Critically Rated at 7/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Bye Obama

Today is the last full day of Barack Obama’s presidency. Tomorrow Donald Trump will be sworn in. It’s a time of great change and even greater uncertainty. I don’t know what the next four years will have in store, but I know the last eight years have been pretty rad. Affordable health care? I’ll take it. Gay marriage legalized? About damn time. Obama is cool. He’s the kind of guy you want to get a beer with. He plays golf with Steph Curry. He gets coffee with Jerry Seinfeld. Trump is the kind of guy you want to pour a beer on. He’s pretentious and proud of it. He grabs pussies and takes golden showers and talks about his own children sexually. And somehow he will be sworn in as our president tomorrow. Nobody seems thrilled about it.

Obama was change. He was progress. He was a president for the people. Trump is a president for rich white men. I’m not rich, I’m not white, and I’m not proud to call him my president. I can’t respect a cartoon character. I don’t vote. I think it’s a hollow privilege. That doesn’t mean I can’t be political. Not voting is how I choose to use my voice. I’ve now seen two candidates win the popular vote yet still lose the presidency via the electoral college. I can’t support a corrupt process like that. 

Here is what I’ve learned from the election. Racism is real. Bigotry is back. And the two party system is beyond flawed. I would change it if I could, but I’m too lazy and disillusioned to make an effort. 

Obama is leaving. I’ll miss him. Trump is coming. I’ll fear him. We have a Twitter troll in charge of nuclear weapons. God help us all.

Critically Rated at 10/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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National Geographic Boobs

I remember one glorious fall day in second grade when I inadvertently opened up a classroom copy of National Geographic and saw boobs for the first time. There was a topless woman fetching water from a well in a third world country that might no longer exist. I’m sure the photographer was trying to depict her daily struggle. All I saw was boobies. Big, drooping, slightly uneven boobies in all their glory. I showed my friend and the magazine was snatched out of my hand and passed around faster than a blunt at a reggae show. Real boobs! With nipples to boot! Our lives were forever changed, all thanks to National Geographic. It was a soft innocent introduction to pornography at a time when we were too young to make the pages stick together. And yeah, we were too young to know what we were seeing, but it sure was exciting.

Critically Rated at 12/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young 

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The Best Day to Drive

I went on a little road trip to Santa Barbara over the holidays to visit my girlfriend’s parents. The drive from San Francisco is about 330 miles and usually takes five to six hours depending on traffic. But I inadvertently discovered the best day to drive out of the whole year. It’s Christmas. 

There was nobody on the road and we took advantage. We cruised along at a good ten to fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit, comfortable enough to avoid getting pulled over for speeding. All the drivers were more considerate than usual. It was probably a byproduct of Christmas and Hanukkah overlapping. Everyone was overly generous. I hardly saw any tailgating or neglecting to use turn signals and there was a lot of thank you waves going on. We left the city around 8:15 and we arrived by 12:30, stopping only once for coffee. That’s not too shabby. From now on, I’m going to do all my road tripping on major holidays. While everyone is celebrating with friends and family, the roads are free for cruising. Take advantage.

Critically Rated at 14/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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A Good Idea for a Restaurant 

I have a good idea for a restaurant. You remember that dinner scene with the Lost Boys in Hook? The one where Robin Williams as Peter Pan regains his imagination and an amazing feast appears before them, you remember that? My restaurant will recreate that wonder. 

You start by approaching a large communal table. You’ll sit right next to strangers. It’s real friendly like. The servers will bring out a bunch of empty plates and dishes and put them on the table. There’s about five minutes of pretending to eat, then suddenly the empty plates and dishes are replaced with real food.

Of course the food is all inspired by the food that appears in the movie. All the different types of meat and fruit, the hunk of cheese with Thud’s face in it, the crazy colered pie things, cups of hot cocoa with heaping servings of whipped cream, it’s all there. Everyone eats their fill. The feast ends with a food fight. It’s a little wasteful but it’s worth it.

Critically Rated at 14/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Pockets

Being a man in today’s society has a lot of perks. I’m not trying to be sexist. I’m just stating a fact. We have pockets. Men’s clothing has real, fully functional pockets. That’s a huge advantage. Women’s pockets are mostly decorative, and as a result they are stuck lugging around a large external pocket that they call a purse to carry all the stuff they need day to day. Some might be able to use the butt pocket on their jeans to hold their cellphone if they’re lucky, but the other pockets are pretty much useless. It’s a novelty if they have an article of clothing with a working pocket. They show it off to all their friends, “Look! A pocket!” Meanwhile I have a pocket for my phone, a pocket for my keys, a pocket for my wallet, and I have a lot more pockets to spare. That’s just my pants. If I throw on a jacket, I’ll have even more pockets. Guys have so many pockets that there are multiple industries competing for pocket space. We have pocket knives, pocket watches, handkerchiefs, hell, we can even play pocket pool.  The Battle of the Sexes is finally finished. We have pockets. You don’t. Game over.

Critically Rated at 14/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Home Videos

When I was a senior in high school I bought an iMac and a video camera and started filming my life for the next couple of years. I took my camera everywhere. I brought it when my friends and I would drive aimlessly around town staving off boredom. I brought it to school. I brought it on vacations. I brought it with me when I went to college. Literally everywhere. I would edit the footage and make home videos to give to friends and family. I’m glad  I did all that because I documented some of the best years of my life. 

My girlfriend saw some of my DVDs in my movie collection and begged me to show them to her. I popped one in and got to relive the last few months of high school when I was suffering from senioritis and filming Jackass-inspired stunts on campus instead of going to class. I got to relive my epic trip to Yosemite with twenty-something friends and remembered how grueling the hike to Half Dome was and how relaxing lounging riverside was. 

The memories came flooding back.  I saw friends that I’m still in touch with, some that I’ve lost contact with, and a few that are no longer with us. It was good to see them again. It’s a good thing I was nerdy enough to film my life for a few years. So many good times with good people caught on tape, preserved for as long as I have a working DVD player.

Critically Rated at 16/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Coin Jar

I’m in the service industry and I rely on tips as my main source of income. Cash is my main form of payment and it works out pretty well for me. The only downside is that a wallet full of cash inevitably leads to a pocketful of coins. Coins are annoying. They jingle, they weigh more than paper money, and they are only worth fractions of a dollar. It’s very tempting to leave eight-nine cents at the cashier rather than be burdened with the excessive amount of change. But I’ve long ago realized that coins are still money and they add up quickly. So I lug home the random coins I’ve acquired throughout the day and throw them in a coin jar.

A coin jar is like a piggy bank for adults. The main difference between the two is that one is a jar and the other is shaped like a pig. You deposit coins in the jar and it gradually fills up. Then you take the coins to the bank and turn them into real money. The bigger the jar, the more money you get. It’s economics in action. 

Critically Rated at 11/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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