1.                  Pointless car horns are the biggest catalysts for an instant bad mood.

I was in a pretty good mood yesterday. I was driving down Olympic Blvd heading toward work, it was 80 degrees outside, my windows were down, and one of my favorite songs was on the radio.  As many know, the far right lane in LA doubles as the parking meter lane.  During certain rare times of the day, that lane has no cars parked in it and everyone is afraid to enter it since it’s not the norm.  That’s where you’ll see my ass passing all traffic and actually making the often proposed time of “it takes 20 minutes to get anywhere in LA.” 

So as I neared my final turn, a big old half van, half Winnebago quickly seized one of the meters in my lane that I enjoy taking advantage of everyone in.  This was completely legal and within his right to do, so I snuck back into the lane next to me that had a full car’s length of space between the two vehicles.  Since we were all stopped at the red light, this maneuver was all done at 2 mph and since my right turn was only 10 feet ahead, this maneuver also only hindered my fellow driver from getting to the red light sooner.  He didn’t even have to look at my “USC Alumni” rear license plate frame for any longer than 10 seconds as I was dipping right back out to make my turn.  (Los Angeles is littered with cars representing USC with license plate frames…we’re kind of upfront and sometimes obnoxious about it.)

So you can imagine my surprise when he blasts his loud horn directly into my open window where my head was contently boppin’ to my jam!  In this instant, this mild mannered young Black man forgot that Pharrell was entering the bridge and went into a hand flinging, “shut the hell up” tirade wishing he’d blow that horn again.  Smiles turned to frowns, what would have been polite head nods from driver to driver turned to mean mugs and I dare yous, and the sunlight didn’t seem to shine so brightly anymore. 

Still, 10 seconds after his horn was needlessly utilized and I was immediately back on my route, the radio magically came back on in my ears, that fool was a lost memory, and the sub-zero temperature in the look I gave him warmed back up to 80.  It’s a beautiful day in LA!!

 

2.                  Why do baseball managers wear baseball uniforms during games?

My Dodgers are in the NLCS after sweeping the cursed Chicago Cubs with a serious goat impediment.  Anyway, I’ve been getting into watching baseball more closely for the past 3-4 years and I finally noticed the odd practice of the managers of the teams, also known as coaches in other sports, wear a full baseball uniform, complete with baseball pants and a jersey donning their name and number on the back.  I can’t tell so far if they wear cleats or not. 

What the hell do they need all that on for?  They look absolutely silly.  Most of these guys are pretty damn old and decrepit looking.  Sure, they used to play the game back in the day, but time has since tap danced all over their athletic builds, leaving the body of a dude that definitely eats large portions.  Players have their numbers and sometimes names on their uniforms for identification purposes.  When a foul or penalty is called on a player in basketball or football, the referees assess the foul to the number.  Why is Joe Torre wearing #6?? 

Can you imagine if rickety old Phil Jackson coached the Lakers in some basketball shorts and tank top jersey?  What if Charlie Weis coached Notre Dame from the sidelines with tight ass gold Capri-like pants, shoulder pads covered by a jersey, and a helmet? 

This doesn’t make any sense.  Tell these baseball guys to put on some khakis and a polo with team logos…please.  Leave the past in the past. 

---JJJ

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