Witz Pickz: Weekend Happenings OR How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Blog

Last night, as I hobbled with a pulled hamstring from Walgreens to my car, a homeless woman in a wheelchair, rather than asking for money, simply said, "Take care of that leg." THAT'S where I'm at in life-- the crippled homeless are wishing ME well. In case you were wondering, I made things more uncomfortable with the worst reply possible: "You too."

In a job counseling interview recently, I was once again asked how I find things to write about. I'm beginning to think they find me.

After being in Seattle for the weekend, I flew back to San Francisco on Virgin America, and had a very unsettling experience. Instead of getting the "Thanks for flying Virgin" message from the flight crew or simply over the intercom, the pilot, who's name was allegedly Bill, stood in the center of the aisle, and asked everyone to look up front to where he was. He said that he had two important things to say and I immediately thought, "We're not going anywhere."

"Hi, my name is Bill and I am the pilot for your flight today on Virgin America. Boy, are we happy to have you with us-- how many of you have flown Virgin before?" My "Cool Kid" instincts were still secure from high school, so I totally DIDN'T raise my hand even though I HAVE flown Virgin before. "Well gosh, that's great, that's great. Thanks for coming back, and for the rest of you, we welcome you aboard!" He smiled that special smile that says, "I stab the homeless!" and prepared to deliver his next bit of information, which I had narrowed down to three options:

1) We were all about to child molested by our new friend Bill.
2) We were all about to be hacked to bits by our best buddy Billy.
3) Our plane wasn't going anywhere until we all prayed...or Pilot Bill would blow us all up.

Instead, Bill simply said, "Next, I want to tell all of you to sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight, which should be..." I prepared for the inevitable, "delayed for a mere five hours!" but got, "An hour and thirty minutes of actual flight time," from Bill. He then turned and went to fly the plane. Somehow telling us to sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight sounded a lot like a threat. I would have felt more at ease if he'd just told me which horrible death he had planned for me.

Witz: Why do I feel less comfortable now that he's spoken to us? (translation: Hi, let's be friends)
Middle Seat Guy: Definitely. That was creepy.
Witz: I thought we were going to have a delay. (translation: I have every intention of using your body as a human shield for any knives, bullets or explosions heading towards me via our cheery pilot.)
Middle Seat Guy: I don't know how I feel about that guy flying our plane.
Witz: Me either. (translation: furthermore, judging by your clothes, age, and general demeanor, I believe that you are expendable and I will not feel bad about using you and your western shirt as said human shield, nor will I hesitate in my action to transform you thus.)
Middle Seat Guy: Weird.
Witz: I guess that's why they give us tv's...(translation: and you'll never see it coming.)

To the detriment of this post, the flight went off without incident, but I did manage to see one of my favorite INSANE television commercials during the trip. The General is an Auto Insurance company-- the hook being that The General DOES NOT GIVE A FUCK. You can be a horrible accident prone drunk driver, and The General's gonna hook you up for around $59. These commercials have to be regional, so here's a great introductory example:


Now, as you'll see from this shitty line chart I made in paint, everything's going along fine right up until The General makes his first appearance at the 20 second mark.



That isn't the commercial I saw, however. The one I saw was this:


What the hell is going on in this commercial? Is there a big market for people who want to purchase car insurance late at night? "If you smoke meth...AND NEED AUTO INSURANCE...The General is for you." And if he's been in the other room for a while, why did he, "JUST log on to The General.com?" Porn city. If, "Logging onto The General" isn't a euphamism, then I don't know what is. Fortunately, once he clicks over, it only takes him a minute to buy his dirtbag auto insurance, so he can go back to the horrid disembodied voice who inexpicably requires CHEESE PUFFS.

"How should we end this commercial?"
"Ummm, have her demand something."
"Like what?"
"I dunno man, I'm really high right now."
"Me too, hand me some of those cheese puffs."
"..."
"THAT'S IT!"
"THAT'S IT!"

Watching this commerical reminded me of a commercial I'd heard on the radio earlier in the day while driving with Dolan Out the Pain. It was a Qdoba commercial for their "any two items" deal. You see, you could pick out ANY TWO items and make it a combo. The girl in the commercial starts naming combinations to see if the foods will work together: "Um, how about a cheese quesadilla and a taco?" DING! It's a good combination! "An enchilada and tortilla soup?" DING! "A burrito and nachos?" DING!
....
....
IT'S MEXICAN FOOD! IT'S ALL THE SAME STUFF! Rice, beans, cheese, meat, repeat! You know how the eskimos have, like, a thousand words for snow? Well, Mexico has a thousand words for taco. Do you want a hard taco, a soft taco, a flat taco, an enclosed taco, a soggy taco, taco triangles, taco salad, taco pie, or taco soup? It's all the same! I love every bit of it, but hooooly shit people, let's all take a second to acknowledge that we see the man behind the curtain. It doesn't matter which two items you pick, you ain't swinging by Qdoba on your way to go camping.

I Like My Beans the Way I Like My Pro Athletes-- Refried,
Witz