U.S. GEOGRAPHY 101

A few days ago, my dentist was conversing with me, as dentists annoyingly do, while cleaning my teeth.

Dentist: So where are you from, again?

Me: Chja;ifjwslk.

Dentist: Sorry, what? [takes hands out of my mouth]

Me: Chicago.

----------------------------

That's not the problem.

This is the problem:



Dentist: Ohhh so does your family still live in Chicago?

Me: Yeah.

Dentist: Oh so are they okay after the earthquake?

 Me: *Face-palm*


Sadly, she is not the first person who has asked me this this week.

At what point did Chicago gravitate to the east coast? I've been asking myself this often over the past four years of living in California where apparently nobody has the slightest inklings about the most basic geographical facts about the United States. I  don't expect everyone to know the precise latitude and longitude of all fifty states. I really don't. But I feel like many Californians need to at least look at a map once every ten years or so to refresh their memory about the different regions in general.

What a normal citizen envisions when they think of a map of the United States of America:

What a Californian envisions when they think of a map of the United States of America:

 

This by no means is to say that Californians aren't great for a lot of other reasons. I love them! They're crazy! My friend's dad says California is like a granola bar- filled with fruits, flakes, and nuts. I happen to have a great affinity for granola bars. That is why I still live here. 

This ALSO isn't to say that I know everything in the WORLD! Of course I don't! Did I say that??? It's a free country, dammit. Maybe you should start a blog about everything about me that annoys you. Good luck with your readership.

Rush Week

My friend Sarah recently asked me for an update on Night Time Thoughts. I was devastated to report to her that I hadn't had any I could recall in at least half a year or so! Oddly enough, once my subconscious was aware that something needed to be done, I had a new Night Time Thought* a mere few days later. The next day, I woke up to a strange memo in my cell phone application aptly named "Memos":

"Sorority house during rush wk"

For those of you who haven't been following Night Time Thoughts, this means I had sleep-typed, if you will, this idea so as not to forget it in all of its profound wisdom come morning. Essentially, it's a short dream I have that for some reason I feel, at the time, is INCREDIBLY important to write down.

Now, upon my first contemplation of this Night Time Thought, I was befuddled and mentally exasperated. As I lay there, trying to wake up while simultaneously reeling through my hazy memory of the previous night's slumber, I felt all hope was lost. Whatever ingenious idea I had come up with regarding sorority houses would never be regained. The future of Rush Weeks everywhere was simply doomed.

And then I remembered. I had envisioned "Rush Week" to be personified as a rushing wave of college girls LITERALLY rushing into a sorority house as a creature all of its own, wave like and with the force of a hurricane. My mind took a turn for the worse when I realized that this wave of girls was literally drowning the already sworn in (Is that what sororities do? Swear people in?) sisters and other pledges, ultimately resulting in whoever was left alive as being able to become a member of that particular house. Survival of the fittest, most blood thirsty, girls.

Yeah...I don't know.

I hope to never set foot in a sorority house for fear of having flash backs to this nightmarish Night Time Thought. Okay so I never wanted to set foot in a sorority house ever. I shouldn't blame Night Time Thoughts for that.

BUT I FEEL IT IS PERFECTLY ACCEPTABLE TO BLAME THE FOLLOWING VIDEO (If nothing else, you'd be doing yourself a favor to read the viewers' comments.)

Feel free to submit your own Night Time Thoughts to me via Email. carsten.tice@gmail.com

*Night Time Thoughts need not occur at night. On the contrary. They can occur whenever one is mostly asleep and only awake enough to scribble down a quick note. Come on, people. It's just a name. Does Taco Bell ONLY sell tacos? Does Burger King ONLY sell burgers? No. No, I didn't think so.

Jesus Made Me Do It

At work today, I was reading an injury report filled out by one of our truck drivers. These consist of a series of questions relating to the driver's injury and the surrounding incidents. As I was perusing the report, I was befuddled by this particular driver's answers to some of the questions:

Question: Who was the injury reported to?

Answer: First to Jesus, then to [our company.]


Okay... I can understand if that may have been his answer. However, I'm not sure if I would have written it out on the official injury report...


Continuing on, I came to another interesting answer.


Question: How could this incident have been avoided?

Answer: It could have been avoided if I did not pull from the handle. (Note: I was instructed by Jesus to pull from the handle.)

Okay. At this point I was feeling like this was getting  a bit ridiculous. I understand there are many people in the world who are very in tune with their religious beliefs. But, really? This seemed like a pretty odd variant of "the devil made me do it." I don't feel like this would hold up in any kind of worker's compensation claim.

As my neighboring coworkers had already gone home for the evening, I sat there, wondering aloud to myself and being generally distraught and quite confused about this report for a good long while.

Then, as if it fell from Heaven, I was struck by a very important detail that I had been overlooking the entire time:


I live and work in Southern California where there are many, many Hispanic males named "Jesus."


Thank you, Christian college.

Truth Hurts

I was talking to a bartender a while back about how pretty much everybody who lives in LA is working on doing something other than what they're currently doing. Supposing she didn't intend on tending bar for the rest of her life, I asked her which path she thought she might go down.

She excitedly responded that she aspired to be "an insulting greeting card designer." Obviously intrigued, I asked her for an example.

"My best idea is a card for a baby shower," she said. "On the front it says, 'Congratulations' and on the inside it says, 'WHORE!'"

I spent a significant amount of time trying to decide whether I would be offended by such a card or find it wildly amusing.

I spent an equal amount of time genuinely hoping she has some backup ideas.