Category Archives: Random Rants

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

Pillow

A pillow is a sealed cloth bag primarily used for supporting your head or neck while you’re sleeping or lounging about. They are often filled with soft stuff like foam or feathers for added comfort. They have other uses besides being a sleeping accessory. They can be decorative. A nice pillow can really hold the room together. You can use them to battle siblings or friends at a slumber party. You can use them to put hospital patients out of their misery. You could spend thirty dollars on a fleshlight or use your already accessible pillow. 

A pillow is one of those things that you never appreciate until you don’t have one. Anyone who has ever gone camping but forgot a pillow will agree with me. A folded sweatshirt is not an adequate substitute. A good pillow is vital to a good night’s sleep. 

Critically Rated at 13/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young 

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Name Tag

Everybody at my work knows who I am. It’s not because I’m a hard worker, lord no. It’s because I have to wear a name tag. A name tag is a sticker or badge that has your name on it. You slap it in your chest and suddenly other people know who you are. You typically see them at the workplace, orientations, or socially awkward parties. I think name tags should be standard. You would never have to introduce yourself again. You’ll never forget someone’s name again. You can point to your tag if someone pronounces your name wrong and ask them to try again. Yup, name tags are pretty sweet. I’d wear one even if I wasn’t required to.

Critically Rated at 10/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Getting Stared At By a Baby

I was on the train going to work when I felt someone staring at me. I can always tell when I’m being watched. It’s an eerie feeling. I glanced around to see who was looking at me. I found the culprit staring at me from across the aisle. It was a baby. I was getting stared at by a baby.

I dont like being stared at but I let it slide. Babies don’t mean to be rude. They just are rude. They are babies. They don’t know any better. They just poop, cry, sleep, and stare at things. Eventually they turn into people. Then hopefully they will stop staring at me.

I don’t know how to respond to a baby staring at me, especially when it’s a stranger baby. Do I smile and wave at it? Do I pat it on its head? Do I tell the mom that it’s a cute baby even if it’s an ugly one? What is the proper etiquette in this situation?

Critically Rated at 7/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young 

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When the Season Ends

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a huge fan of the San Francisco Giants. I didn’t jump on the bandwagon as soon as they started winning World Series titles. I was born a Giants fan and I have embarrassing childhood photos to prove it: 

Go Giants!


I like sports but the Giants are my team. They take priority over everyone else. I’d rather watch a Giants game on TV than sit in the first row of a Warrior’s game. Being a fan of a baseball team is a huge commitment, especially if they are contenders for a championship. It means a month of spring training, six months of games, and (hopefully) a month of postseason play. It’s six or seven nights a week of watching or following games. There are highs and lows, a diverse cast of characters, and lots of magical moments that make it better than any reality show. 

So it leaves me with a hollow feeling when the season ends. Especially when the season ends as cruelly and abruptly as the Giants’s historic ninth inning meltdown of Game 4 of the NLDS against the Cubs. I was in AT&T Park. I got to see the life sucked out of the stadium and the Cubs celebrate on our mound. They got to advance. We had to go home. The season ended. It was over. It’s disappointing yet kind of a relief. I can relax now. Off-season for the Giants is also off-season for me. 

Critically Rated at 12/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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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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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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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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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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Front Row Seat to a DUI

I’ve never been arrested for driving under the influence but one time I had a front row seat to a DUI. I was with my friend at a work party and we both got a little tipsy. We left the party early to go watch the second season premiere of True Blood. About halfway  back to my house, my friend noticed a cop in his rear view window. He started to freak out a bit, telling me that he knew he was being followed and that he was going to be pulled over. I told him to relax and focus on the road. Then the cop put his lights on and pulled us over. So much for consoling him.

The officer gave my friend a breathalyzer and within minutes he was in the back of the cop car. Then the cop asked if I was ok to drive my friend’s car home. I said no because I know entrapment when I see it. He told me to call a cab or take a bus home even though I had a perfectly functioning skateboard with me. I asked my friend if he needed anything, like for me to call his roommates or a pack of cigarettes for bartering in jail. He told me he was ok and I reluctantly left him in the clutches of the police. 

I went home and watched True Blood, but I couldn’t enjoy it. It wasn’t because I felt guilty that my friend was in the drunk tank. It was because that second season of True Blood was terrible. DUIs suck. I’m glad that I’ve only witnessed them and never experienced one for myself. Don’t drink and drive. You could kill yourself or an innocent bystander and it’s hard to watch HBO shows when you’re behind bars. 

Critically Rated at 4/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Be Careful Out There

My girlfriend lives in the Tenderloin, which is one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in San Francisco. Yesterday we were walking to the store and we passed by a homeless guy in a wheelchair going the opposite direction. We crossed the street and we suddenly heard screaming from behind us, right where we just were. Screams aren’t that uncommon in the TL where crackheads and crazy people run rampant, but this was different. It was someone screaming in terror. I turned around to see what was happening. 

I saw a blonde lady on the ground behind the cars parked by the curb. She was screaming but I couldn’t tell why until a guy ran past me towards the girl. He was yelling “No! No way! Get off her! Get off her, man!” I knew something was wrong so I told my girl to wait and I ran after the guy to see what was up. The homeless guy was no longer in his wheelchair, he was on the ground bear hugging the blonde lady as she was screaming for her life. The homeless guy saw that he was surrounded by a bunch of angry bystanders and he let her go as more people showed up and surrounded him to keep him from going anywhere. She got up, crying and sobbing, completely terrified. I stood between her and the homeless guy who slinked back into the wheelchair. Suddenly I heard screeching tires and a bike cop appeared out of nowhere. 

 I looked around and was surprised at how many people were all around us. The street was empty a moment before, but now there were about thirty people all around us. There were cellphones out taking video, everyone asking everyone else what had happened. The blonde lady knew she was safe now and she explained that she was walking by him when he stood up out of his wheelchair, grabbed her, and pulled her to the ground. The cop detained him and I hung around for a few minutes to make sure the blonde lady was ok. I asked her if she needed me to call anyone for her. She pulled out a cigarette and a nice crackhead came up and gave her a light. I overheard another crackhead scolding the creep, saying things like “You piece of shit, what if someone did that to your mother? Or your sister? Fuck you, man! You fucked up now!”

A couple more cops showed up on the scene. Nobody asked for my statement and me and my girlfriend eventually walked away talking about how crazy the whole situation was. It was broad daylight and we had just walked past that guy. He could have attacked my girlfriend if I wasn’t with her. I didn’t like the Tenderloin before and now I really don’t like it. I’m always going to feel uneasy for her to walk around her own neighborhood. I want her to carry Mace or a Taser at all times but I know that she might not have time to use it. Her most effective weapon would be to scream bloody murder like the blonde lady did. Her screams saved her life. 

So be careful out there. The world is a dangerous place. I saw how fucked up some people can be. But I also saw how good some people can be. A lot of us ran to help a complete stranger. They were young and old, all different races, some were homeless and some were in business suits. That’s great for humanity and all, but the lesson to take away is that it only takes a second for a scumbag to fuck everything up. That blonde lady is lucky that there were good people there to save her but she’s never going to be able to walk down the street feeling safe again. She’s scarred for life. 

Critically Rated at 3/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Towel Steppers

I went to San Francisco’s Outside Lands earlier this month. Outside Lands is a three day music and arts festival held in Golden Gate Park. I go every year and every year gets more and more crowded. Most people are respectful of other people’s space and property but there are always a couple of assholes who don’t give a fuck and consider themselves to be VIPs. They are towel steppers. They will literally step on your towel or blanket that you have splayed out on the ground. They will bump into you and not appologize. They will cut in line. They turn a fun event into a hassle. And they should be called out for it. The world needs more hippies and less towel steppers. 

Critically Rated at 4/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young 

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Ripped Jeans 

 Ripped jeans are either really cool or really stupid. It all depends on where the rip is. If the knee is ripped, that’s stylish and hip. If the crotch is ripped, your day is probably ruined. I have a pair of jeans with frayed back pockets. I’m reluctant to keep my wallet in them, but they look fashionable so I wear them every now and then despite their diminished functionality. Some people buy news pairs of jeans that are already ripped. I don’t believe in that. I believe that rips should be earned. There should be a story behind them. You should rip your jeans while running from a mountain lion while hiking. You shouldn’t rip your jeans with scissors because Oprah says it’s trendy. I don’t know why denim looks good ripped, but it does. You don’t see people walking around with ripped cargo pants or ripped yoga pants. I have a theory that jean shorts were accidentally invented when a ripped knee got out of control.  

Critically Rated at 12/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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There’s a Light at the End of the Rainbow 

 I overheard a guy complaining about his life to his friend. His girlfriend dumped him, he was overlooked for a promotion at work, and his dog likes his roommate more than him. His friend gave him some advice and told him that “There’s a light at the end of the rainbow.” I couldn’t help but scoff at them. That’s not an expression. That’s muddling up two different expressions. There’s either a light at the end of the tunnel and there’s a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I’ve seen the end of the rainbow and there was definitely no light, only a pot of gold and a surly leprechaun guarding it. I asked the leprechaun where the light was. He said it was obviously at the end of the tunnel. That’s where they keep it. There’s no light at the end of the rainbow. Don’t believe the hype. And don’t speak in clichés if you don’t know how to say them, especially if I’m around to make fun of you. 

Critically Rated at 9/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Stubbed Toes

 Stubbed toes are an occasional side effect of walking. I got drunk the other night and woke up the next morning with a stubbed toe. Actually, I have to admit that it was two stubbed toes, one on each foot. It was impressive. I’m normally not that sloppy. I must have stubbed them pretty bad because I had a legitimate cut on one and peeled skin on the other. I put socks on and went for a test walk. It hurt because my socks were sticking to the wound. I had to wrap bandaids around the two toes and put my socks back on. It worked but it wasn’t pretty. I don’t like having things between my toes so it was uncomfortable. It was also my day off and I wasn’t going to waste it so I manned up and spent my day walking the dogs with my buddies along Ocean Beach and all throughout Golden Gate Park. It was hell on my feet but it was also a hell of a day. I regret nothing. It would have been better without stubbed toes though. 

 Critically Rated at 6/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Wearing Scrubs on Public Transportation 

 I rely on public transportation to get around the city. I try to be aware of my surroundings and I’ve noticed a lot of hospital workers wearing their scrubs on the bus or train. That doesn’t make any sense to me. Wikipedia defines scrubs as the sanitary clothing worn by surgeons, nurses, physicians, and other workers involved in patient care in hospitals. The key word is sanitary, and I don’t think wearing scrubs on public transportation is sanitary. The subway isn’t exactly renowned for its cleanly conditions. Scrubs are supposed to be sterile to keep germs and infections from spreading to vulnerable patients. Wearing them on the bus seems to violate that cardinal rule. You trust healthcare workers to be clean. Seeing them rub shoulders with homeless people on public transportation is pretty disheartening. It should be illegal. Write your congressman and voice your complaints if you feel the same way. Maybe someone can start a petition to outlaw the practice. I’m too lazy to take the initiative but I’ll gladly sign my name to the cause.
 Critically Rated at 5/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young 

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Own Your Mistakes 

 There are two types of people in the world. There are people who own their mistakes and there are people who shift the blame. People fuck up. It happens all the time. You can either admit your mistake or make excuses for what happened. I have no respect for people who do the latter. If I’m at fault, I’ll admit it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. People make mistakes all the time. That’s why pencils have erasers. You can still scratch it out if you have a pen. You fuck up, you figure out what went wrong, and you fix it or prevent it from happening again. That’s how you gain experience. That’s how you gain respect. Nobody is perfect. Don’t pretend to be.  

Critically Rated at 15/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Throw It All in the Same Dryer

 I do laundry a little bit different than other people at the laundromat. I separate my clothes into black and colors and put them in different washing machines like how I’m supposed to, but I’m a bit of a rebel when it comes to drying them. I throw it all in the same dryer. It says wash separately. It doesn’t say anything about drying separately. So I toss all my clothes in the same dryer. It saves me time and quarters. I haven’t noticed any ill effects on my wardrobe. My black shirts are still black. My blue jeans are still blue. My underwear still has shit stains but that’s a different story. I don’t see anything wrong with it so I’m gonna keep on doing it. You should do it too. I don’t want to be the only one. I hate being alone.  

Critically Rated at 13/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young 

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