I'm not sure if I have the energy to sit down and write something that will make you laugh today. I do, however, have a link to a video that will achieve that lofty goal.
Set up: Duncan Trussell and Natasha Leggero (two stand-up comics) like each other. They live together in a house in L.A. and even sleep in the same bed. They share a fridge and a bathroom, and they even comb each other's hair when the other is sleeping. Sometimes Duncan will try on Natasha's underwear when she's not at home, but she folds and organizes them in a precise manner and little does he know, she's onto him. Duncan and Natasha also share a pet chihuahua together, it's name is Mayor Cutie. They also like to produce hilarious video clips using Mayor Cutie as the star.. here check it out for yourself:
Ok, now that I made you laugh using other people's talents, I'll get on with it. Last week I learned how to drive a big semi-truck. You know, those big rigs you see everywhere hauling tons of goodies in long trailers, blocking your lane and slowing you down for your Starbucks appointment. You pass by them everyday. You cut them off repeatedly. You curse them when they're in front of you, flip them off when they're behind you. You're scared of them when they ride along beside you. Yes, those guys! Well, I learned how to drive one in two days.
I'm not trying to brag here when I say this, but I'm pretty much a badass in case you didn't know it. I'm beginning to realize there's nothing I cannot do. Except maybe for painting, and singing, and solving math equations, and teaching dogs the simplest of tricks, I can do it all. I imagine if a spacecraft from another planet landed here on earth and their pilot was stricken ill, I could step up to the helm and learn how to fly it no problemo. Give me a few days and I'd be doing low-level fly-bys and giving the tabloids something to write about. I'm not saying anything, I'm just saying..
The other night I was downtown Salem having a few drinks with a friend. The night was young and she was scouting the locals for a fresh face and eventually found her next soiree. Upon seeing her interests move in a new direction, I realized our play time was over and I was now on my own. No biggie, although she was my ride home. Typically this happens closer to my apartment and walking home is no big deal, but that night I was miles away from where I lived and it was really cold outside. I was wearing flip flops and a short sleeve shirt and jeans, that's it. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and started my long walk north.
I was moving up the sidewalk at a brisk pace, staggering and stumbling slightly from all the alcohol ingested earlier, when I came upon a group of kids hanging out. They were standing and sitting all around their parked cars, laughing and carrying on together, smoking cigarettes and whistling at passing traffic. I walked by them and began crossing over to the next block when I heard one of them yell out, "Hey little bitch, where the fuck you think you're going?" My body instantly tensed up, and my sloshed brain went from thinking about a duck swimming around in a semi-frozen pond to me turning into a never-before-seen raging monster with hypodermic fangs and iron fists equipped with claws dripping with poison. My eyes turned from brown to bright red, but I continued walking.
"That's right, pussy, just keep walking like the little bitch you are!" was the remark that stopped me dead in my tracks. I hadn't even made it to the next block, the sidewalk was right there in front of me, a mere few steps away. I turned around and headed back toward the source of the voice. He was easy to pick out of the crowd, he was looking right at me and holding his arms up in the not-so-intimidating "what's up" gesture. To me it looked as though he were asking god for forgiveness, when really he should've been asking me. I walked right up to him and looked him directly in the face and calmly said, "You'll notice I'm not walking anymore."
For a brief moment he was stunned by my return and didn't say anything. I looked over his shoulder and noticed his friends hopping off car hoods and walking our way. I counted six guys, seven counting the one in front of me. Like I said earlier, I'm not very good with math, but even I knew the odds weren't in my favor in this situation. I asked him if all these guys were his friends and he told me yeah and asked me what I was gonna do about it. I replied by saying, "Not much I can do" and I turned and walked away.
I got halfway up the next sidewalk when I heard the sound of fast moving approaching feet. I turned around and there he was, there we both were, right back face-to-face again. Unbelievable, this guy. I asked him what part of me walking by offended him. Did I walk too quickly? Not quickly enough? Were my footsteps too loud for he and his retarded friends? I also asked if he thought he was living in Compton instead of Salem, because he was acting like a ghetto nigga trying to "claim" his block. He wasn't interested in my line of questioning, he was only interested in saving face in front of his friends as he bounced around chanting, "Come on, bitch, let's fight!" I stood there watching him pump himself up in anticipation as his friends made their way up the sidewalk. They were moving in for the kill and I had to figure something out, and quickly.
I turned to my right to survey my escape route and when I did, he reached out and grabbed my shoulder. Instinctively I swung back around and struck him square in the face with everything I had. I didn't even have time to construct a calculated fist, so the blow I delivered ended up being more of a karate-chop bitch-slap that landed flush on his eye/nose area. And it stunned him. It gave me just enough time to jump away and out into the street where I could figure things out from there. By now his buddies had joined him on the sidewalk and some of them were coming at me. I had become their prey and the smell of blood was in the air. The signal light at the next intersection was red and several vehicles were waiting for the green. In approximately 30 seconds we would all be interacting with the bright lights of head-on traffic and I was hoping that I could use them as a deterrence tactic. It was my only hope.
The light turned green and the rush of traffic was upon us. I could feel blows to the back of my head and shoulders as I zigzagged in and around the honking cars. I turned around with readied fists and screamed, "If I'm gonna get my ass kicked by a group of bitch-made punks like you, it's gonna happen right here in the street! Come on you degenerate fucks, come on!" My fists were ready and I took a few swings at the few guys who ventured out as far as I had, most of the others were hanging back hesitantly, still in the street but closer to the curb. I kept walking backwards, deeper into traffic, telling the people in the cars that these kids were motherless fucks who had been raised by television and rap music. I cursed wildly and howled at the moonless night sky and promised tragic events would befall those who had wronged me here.
Eventually the distance between me and them was enough that I felt safe and they grew bored. The gang of retarded youth slowly returned to their hangout spot, every once in awhile giving a return glance over their shoulders. I continued walking right down the middle of Commercial Street, anger and fear still coursing through my bloodstream, keeping me warm and brazen. I did it! I had succeeded! I would live to write another day! I had escaped a menacing throng of mindless punks who had nothing to lose and everything to prove. I had also lost a flip flop and was walking with a flat. It got cold very quickly and I found myself shivering and wishing I had cash for a taxi. Nobody carries cash these days, and those little plastic debit cards can be quite worthless in certain situations, no matter how fat the bank account is on the other end.
I stuck out my trembling thumb as I continued walking. The cold had crept into every part of my body and I was damn near on the verge of giving up when a Nissan Pathfinder pulled over in front of me. The girl in the passenger seat was looking back at me through her rolled down window as I hurried up the the car. Her boyfriend was driving and he asked where I was headed, so I told him. As luck would have it they were going right by my apartment and I thanked them repeatedly through quivering lips as I shook uncontrollably in the back seat of their toaster warm car. It turns out heaven has four wheels and a heater and is manufactured in Japan. And in case you ever read this, thank you for picking me up that night, my friends. I really appreciate your kindness.