KungFuMike.net - December 29, 2006

EDIT: I guess I should add a little something to the beginning of this due to the metric shit ton of email and Myspace messages I've gotten since this blog was posted.

I love California. More specifically, I love Los Angeles.

I guess that makes me a fucking weirdo or something. I remember when I told my friend Tucker that I was thinking about moving here. "No fucking way dude, you are going to hate that place. Mark my words." I just couldn't see it; I couldn't see how a salty New Englander staring into the eyes of winter could possibly hate a place like this, no matter how lame some of the people are or how unbelieveably fucking lame the traffic is...and you know what? I was right. I mean, I've only been here for a little under two months, but I really feel that moving here was the right decision for me to make for a lot of reasons. I am, dare I say...happy?

Unfortunately, like any other place or thing on this planet, there is a lot about Los Angeles that I don't like. Let's bitch about it together!

1) Your leggings are stupid.

2) If you own a new C class Mercedes, you are not driving a Mercedes. I hate to break this to you, but the "C" stands for "Chrysler", as in your car was built on a Chrysler platform. I suppose that the "C" could also stand for "chronically uninformed consumer" or "cunt". It kind of defeats the purpose of driving a Mercedes when your Mercedes has hubcaps and manual windows. If you own one of these cars, your awesome level has taken a -4587 point hit, while your mush headed fucking retard level has skyrocketed into the atmosphere.


If you drive this next to me on the highway and you see me laughing hysterically, it's not because I thought the interlude on Jack FM was hilarious. I am laughing at you, Hollywood Hogan.

3) Why are your sunglasses so big? I want to you die.

4) Dear City Planner,

Your freeways were designed like fuck. If I get off on an exit, I expect to be able to not only get back on the freeway going in the same direction, but to also be able to get on going in the opposite direction, not to get off on an exit and be forced to meander from town to town for hours like a fucking vagrant in order to find my way back home.

In closing; pull your fucking fingers out of your butt and fix this shit. I hope you get AIDS in your cock holdster.

XOXOX,

KungFu Mike

5) Fuck Del Taco in the face.

I have been making dribble castles in the bathroom all morning. I knew that sheisty Messican had an evil twinkle in his bloodshot eye when he handed me my greasy bag full of gut rot at the drive through. My asshole feels like someone took a belt sander to it and I think that I just melted my printer with one of my farts. I would sooner eat a heaping fistful of my grandmother's unemptied lower intestines than revisit that den of culinary sin ever again. I wouldn't go in there if I saw my future children's faces on fire at the counter and I had a Super Soaker in my hands. No me gusta.

6) Tell these Armenian people to stop driving like that. If I ever become Mayor, I am going to rename Glendale "2-Fast-2-Furious-1-EyebrowVille" or "HairyBackSylvania".


"We must get to Zankou Chicken as fast as possible, Arsham. Get in sports car!"

7) Hun, why are you tucking your jeans into your knee high boots? You look like some kind of Nazi equestrian, and I don't know how to hit on you at the bar. Should I give you the full Hitler salute? Should I sketch out some of Dr. Mengele's work on a cocktail napkin over a cosmopolitan? Don't leave me hanging here.


Hey chicky, you're so fine - you're so fine, your name's not Klein. Hey chicky! *clap clap - clap clap*

8) I had this crazy idea the other day - why don't you fix the public transportation so people will actually fucking use it? I mean color me ignorant, but wouldn't that hack a decent dent into the whole smog thing? I tried going for a run outside a few times since I've been here, and every time I come back in with my lungs burning and I'm wheezing like a TB patient. I smoked way more cigarettes back in NH and I still ran three miles a day. Which leads me to...

9) I smoke, and if you tell me not to, I will shotgun second hand smoke into your newborn's fucking mouth and stub it out on your forehead. Save your shitbag complaints for your Scientology recruiter or save it for home so you can turn it into an amazing screenplay and finally quit your job at fucking Tony Roma's.

10) You aren't going to make it. You will never be an actor/actress, you will never be a writer, you will never be a dancer, you will never live out your dreams. You will never get your script read by anyone important, your headshots will never make it to the top of the pile at general casting, and you will never be able to dig yourself out of the debt you have accrued by building the faux facade of success around you to shroud your scared, self conscious, fragile ego from your fake friends and your reflection in the rear view. You are going to die miserable and alone, and the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can stop giving me concerned looks because I'm not wearing Ice Creams or because my cell phone doesn't have Swarovski crystals hot glued to it, and you can buy me a fucking drink to apologize for your insolence before I hold a full length mirror up to your personal demons and reduce you to a crumbled mess of gaudy jewelery, tears and crushed ambition in front of everyone you care about.

Jack and Coke. With a lime.


~KungFu Mike

Posted by KungFu Mike at 4:57 PM