Author Archives: Josh

I Ride the Bus in Los Angeles

Posted by: Josh

It’s a general assumption that when you live in Los Angeles, you need a car. And this is mostly true. People will tell you that the city was built for driving, and this is true, too. The veins and arteries of LA are the streets and freeways. The freeways are built for cars. So if you want to get around, you better have a car, right?

Because if you’re not driving a car, you’re traveling in the seedy underbelly of public transportation.

In LA, public transportation is a second-class citizen. Most of the native Angelenos you know have never used public transportation, and probably wouldn’t know where to begin if you asked them. Seriously, we don’t know. We have cars. We live here.

If you really want to confuse a native Angeleno, just say that you never learned how to drive. And you’re 46. And you’re rich.

And white.

Because in Los Angeles, public transportation is for poor people. This is of course the perception, but unlike a lot of LA perceptions, it is also the reality. According to the 2006 American Community Survey by the U.S. Census Bureau, in Los Angeles, 75.5% of public transportation users earned less than $25,000 a year.

What I found really interesting, though, is that 67.3% of Los Angeles public transportation users still have cars! So even if can’t afford to drive a car, you still have one.

Or two. Or maybe more. This is what cinder blocks are for, right?

As poor people, I’m now utilizing public transportation. But let me stop using the euphemism. To really get the taste in your mouth, the taste that Angelenos get when they hear it, you need to say, “the bus.” I ride the bus.

Here’s how I explain it to everyone I know in LA: “Actually, it’s not that bad.” To which they slowly nod their heads and say, “Oh.” I imagine it is the same response you would get if you said, “I was born without a bottom, so my waste is shuttled from my body through a plastic tube implanted in my lower intestine and collects in this sack I wear around my ankle. Actually, it’s not that bad.” New Yorkers don’t require this apology, which makes it too bad that everyone I know is from LA (and it’s not that often I will suggest there is something advantageous about being a New Englander).

But really, it’s not that bad. In fact, I like it. The buses are regular and reliable. They’re as clean as any public place. I get to listen to my iPod and read. The only problem is that they drive on streets and freeways, with cars. Thus, they are kind of slow.

But listen to this: when I started working at UCLA, I did the math on my commuting costs. By riding the bus, I am saving about $1500 a year.

Good enough for me! Even if riding the bus was as bad as Angelenos imagine it to be, I would still ride the bus for $1500 a year.

And now that everyone is poor, maybe I’ll start to see some of you on the bus (though I doubt it, cause I know you are all still too cool for school, bless your hearts).

Too Cool for School.

MacGyver Snacks at the Office

Posted by: Josh

I’m fairly sure that I’m breaking the rules with this one, (i.e., no one cares what you had for lunch), but for some reason I feel compelled to tell everyone about the snack I had yesterday.

I try to bring my lunch to work as much as possible, cause we’re poor and all, and usually it’s got a snack in there too, for that lonely stretch of time between getting to work and having lunch, when I can feel the tumbleweeds blowing through my stomach.

But because of the Passover preparation Wednesday we neglected pretty much every daily chore, including the one where I make my lunch at night, and because it is physically impossible for me to wake up before the absolute last minute, I of course didn’t make lunch in the morning either.

So I’m at work and now it’s around 10:30am and it slowly dawns on me that I’m STARVING and it’s too early to go buy lunch and there’s nothing leftover in the mini-fridge and there is no free junk food hanging around and I’m getting a little desperate, so desperate indeed that I’m scouring my desk and really considering doing SOMETHING with the mustard and salt packets when I run across one solitary piece of whole wheat bread.

Okay, but why do I have a single piece of whole wheat bread in my desk? Well, generally, lunch is a sandwich of some variety (actually there are really only two varieties: egg salad and tuna, and they gross me out at this point, god someone help me eat something different PLEASE HELP ME). So I tend to keep a small store of bread in my desk and then I just bring the innards each day. Well, now that I’m eating the healthy bread (since we are feeding it to Eleanor), I find that I don’t actually want to eat more than half a sandwich worth of this thick, hearty stuff. Seriously, half a sandwich of it and I’m done, I can’t imagine eating more of it. So eating a slice at a time all week left me with this, the last hope.

But this bread is like stuffing a sweater in your mouth. Its not an appealing prospect as a stand-alone. So I went to the office mini-fridge, real casual like, to see if I could find anything that would send the bread down right.

Immediately my MacGyver-like instincts for cobbling random, ordinary food items together into something explosive (edible) flared.

Expired mixed-berry yogurt? No, not mine (and expired).

Lonely stick of string cheese? Again, not mine (though tempting).

Salad dressing? Salad dressing. Still not mine (nothing was of course or I wouldn’t have had a problem in the first place), but who would miss a little dressing? I lit upon the twelve or so bottles crowding the bottom of the fridge.

Each was older and emptier than the last, some with no more than a drizzle left in them, leaving me to wonder, who would put such a thing back in the fridge? Who ate exactly-less-than a bottle of salad dressing, and then just stopped? But I didn’t have time to consider writing passive-aggressive notes. I needed something large enough that nobody would miss, and there it was: Ralph’s brand “Lite Asian Dressing”.

A little in a bowl, and voila, bread goes down nice. MacGruber would’ve been proud.

Okay, so it was a pathetic snack as snacks go, but listen to this: I wasn’t hungry anymore.

I win.

Where’s Your Elbow?

Posted by: Josh

How old were you when you figured out where your bellow was?

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