Forbes has published their first list of America’s Most Miserable Cities. This survey is based on each city’s crime rate, inflation, unemployment, commute times, toxic waste, weather, and taxes. The top ten are:
1. Detroit, MI 2. Stockton, CA 3. Flint, MI 4. New York City 5. Philadelphia, PA 6. Chicago, IL 7. Los Angeles, CA 8. Modesto, CA 9. Charlotte, NC 10. Providence, RI
Proud to announce that I have lived in not one, not two, but three of those cities. Funny, I would have put Orlando near the top of that list too.
Pros: Beautiful view of the mountains and surrounding deserts. After a day on the slopes you drive home and it is 70 degrees. Since you're in California, nobody knows what they are doing on a snowboard. By comparison, you look like a freaking pro and your self-confidence gets a major boost.
Cons: Only one road to get up the mountain. It takes two hours to go four miles because of traffic. After a day on the slopes, you are stuck waiting two hours for a bus to get you back to your car. Since you're in California, nobody knows what they are doing on their snowboard. In a typical novice fashion, they make it halfway down the hill (sometimes even less), and sit down. Yes. Sit down. Right there. In the middle of everything.
Then their friends join them and form a cluster that you have to carefully maneuver through. I get it. You fell. Your bum-bum is sore. It hurts to get up. Well fucking get your ass on your board, go down the hill, go get some hot cocoa in the lodge and cry into it. I paid good money for my lift ticket and I don't appreciate your social club getting in the way.
Another entry after posting one two days ago? Talk about saturation. I feel like I'm back in the UC, blogging about what I had for lunch and how my English teacher wore her hair that day. These are my New Year's Resolutions.
- Bring my lunch to work. Practical and economical. I did the math and a month's worth of buying lunches is roughly the amount of my insurance bill. - Self-confidence. I don't have it. I'm just good at pretending I do. - Using said self-confidence to meet a girl. - Make more new friends and go out more. - Write and perform more. - Run the San Diego Marathon. I'm going to a meeting next week about it.
Six is a good number. I'll stop there. I was going to put "improve my attitude" on that list, but I really don't have that bad of an attitude. I'm sarcastic. That's all. Just because I'm salty doesn't mean I'm bitter.
Despite the fact that I wanted to do some reading, some writing, call my Grandma, clean my room, do the dishes, clear the kitchen table, and get some laundry done, all I managed to do before 2pm today was eat a Lean Cuisine pizza and watch several videos of this nature.
What can I say? It's hypnotic. I used to have Domino Rally when I was little. One of the best toys of my childhood. I had the glow-in-the-dark haunted graveyard set. It had a lot of sweet gadgets, like a guillotine, mine shaft, and some giant slide with a skull that never worked properly. Come to think of it, half of that shit didn't work. You'd spend hours meticulously creating the piece, only to have something ridiculous like a bridge malfunction straight off the bat. Maybe that's why I'm so enthralled by this FlippyCat person. They can do things with Domino Rally that I never even dreamed of. I also had a little car that would drive around and lay a line of dominoes for you. Too bad our kitchen floor was textured and that proved to be a waste of time and money.
It's about 8:30 not and I've managed to cross off most of that list. Last load of laundry is in the machine, my room is not only spic but equally span, I talked to Grandma for a half hour, the dishes are done, and I suppose this right here can be considered writing. I feel lazy and unproductive because I'm still in the same clothes I slept in last night. Fuck you, conscience! I got shit done. Besides, I just got back from vacation. Wait...my excuse for not leaving the apartment today is because I just got back from two weeks of laying around doing nothing? Yeah, sure. Why not.
And what a vacation it was. Michigan was good, as always. While it didn't feel nearly as rushed as the three-day endurance test known as "Thanksgiving," it still went by too fast. I probably should have made more of an attempt to see some friends from high school, but since I can count the people I'd like to hang out with in Novi on one hand, I wasn't really the social butterfly that most of you know and love. Not that I'm bitter and hated high school and don't want to see any of those people again. By all means, they are all lovely and enchanting people. But the crowd I ran with back in the day was, much like the crowds I run with today, quite ambitious. Most of them are no longer in Michigan, let alone Novi. This did however, provide me with a lot of quality time spent with the family.
Chicago was awesome. I planned on staying with Jess the first night because Jeff wasn't back in town yet, but ended up there the entire time. She had a futon, fresh towels, and cooked for me. As much as I love Jeff, all he had to offer were two creepy roommates. Aside from an all-too-brief visit to Noodles in the Pot with Twigger and Jon, my time was divided evenly between hanging out at the Diversey house, laying on Jess's futon watching bad reality TV, and going out drinking. I'd mention right here that I opened up my trusty "Painless Grammar" book just to make sure that "Jess's" was proper, but then the facade would disappear and you may no longer think I'm perfect. Annnyway.
I'm back in LA now. Started the new position yesterday and so far so good. It's nice to not have to go on runs all over the city now, but damn, the day goes by much slower when you're always at your desk. I'm never satisfied. Can you tell? I should be in a Snickers commercial.
...Because Snickers satisfies... That reference was retarded. Scratch that.
You want to know how I knew I was back in LA?
If you said "Because of the huge sign at the airport that says 'Welcome to Los Angeles!'" then go fuck yourself. I'm trying to tell a story.
Aside from the sign and the warm climate, I was ultimately assured that I had arrived back in the good ol' City of Angels when I went to get my bags there was a woman wearing a terrycloth housecoat holding a grease-stained Crave Case. She didn't have time to put on clothes, but she had a time to make a fucking trip to White Castle. Hey, who am I to judge? I stole a chalkboard on New Year's Eve. If you want to kick it at baggage claim in your pajamas with some sliders, have at it. Just be sure to share them with that pimp over there. Yep, the other reason I knew I was no longer in Kansas was when I spotted, on the other side of the same suitcase carousel, a man dressed in full-on pimp gear. Green leopard coat with matching green leopard hat, cane, sunglasses, bling (or "ice," as it were), and even a chalice. Was he a real pimp or just some man dressed as one? Is that how pimps really dress or is that a stereotype? I'd love to get some more opinions on this, but unfortunately I was unable to snap a picture. I couldn't blatantly pull out my cell phone and snap a photo. Especially because my vain attempt to silence my cell phone camera (in case a situation like discreet pimp photography ever arose) ended with me changing the settings so now it quacks...loudly. I tried to do some maneuver where it looked like I was having a conversation but was actually taking pictures, but they just came out blurry. Oh well.
