Thursday, September 29, 2011

Mobile Blogging. Moi?

Yes, I've emerged from the stone age and now join the auto-correct challenged.  I may never be the same

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

This just in:

I am inherently brilliant.

More sure to follow. . .if you're lucky.

Thursday, January 06, 2011

You know what sucks? Traffic, but you knew that, right? No, what sucks even more (and I'm talking "sucks" like a hooker with a C note and an 8 ball dangling before her eyes)? Having your GPS tell you how to shave off 20 minutes from your drive only to end up taking 30 minutes more than originally estimated.

Confused? I'll explain.

I go to leave the awe-inspiring burgh of North Hollywood (like adding "Hollywood" to the name of this armpit was going to make it any more glamorous, sheesh) at about 4:45 p.m. Now, I live in the equally awe-inspiring city of Anaheim (only slightly more because in Anaheim, you can actually park on the street), so I know going in that I'm in for a long trip. . .maybe about an hour and some change. The Magellan GPS unit I bought for my wife for Christmas (she loves to call me and ask which direction she was supposed to go on a street after she's cruised in the wrong direction for about 30 min., so this seemed a "no-brainer") suggested a route that would take me one hour and 4 minutes as opposed to my chosen route (I knew where I was going and how I was getting there) which would take me one hour and 24 minutes. Shave off 21 minutes, hell yes! Let's get it on!

Big mistake. See, the GPS units nowadays all get traffic info from the same satellites that tell them where they are. Undoubtedly, my GPS was told Interstate 5 looked like a fat man's colon after a gut-busting trip to the Bunch-o-Lunch buffet. A little backed-up to be sure. So, it tells me to stay on the 134 East. OK, thinks I, we're heading to the 710 S, via Pasadena. The 210 comes along; I stay on. Sierra Madre comes along; I stay on. The GPS then directs me to exit on Rosemead Blvd. Alright, Rosemead it is. As I'm exiting, my ETA has dropped from 6:15 to 6:01. Sweet.

Not really.

Within a mile, I encounter construction on Rosemead. OK, fair enough, the unit didn't get that memo; things will open up right after. They do. . .for about 2 blocks. That's when I discover that the West San Gabriel Valley towns of Pasadena, Temple City, and (shock) Rosemead have put stoplights at every corner. The drivers in this town, each of whom I have re-christened "Flaming Asshole," must know this because they drive a full 10 mph below the posted speed limit. I pass them, but to no avail. They greet me at the next light. Fuckers. Finally, I reach the bustling metropolis known as El Monte (Spanish for The Mount. . .really? really busted the brain trust on that one; of course, it's no South El Monte). The conversation in my car (remember it's just me and the GPS) has been going like this:

Me: Where the fuck are you taking me?
GPS: *silent*
Me: Goddammit! Why am I in El Fucking Monte?
GPS: Prepare to make a slight right turn in .3 miles.
Me: Where on God's green Earth will that take me?
GPS: *silent*
Me: Fuck a bunch of this. I'm getting my ass on the fucking 10 now and getting to the piece-of-shit 605, pronto! (yes, I realize the irony. . .there ain't no pronto during rush hour).
GPS: Turn around and make your way to the 60 east.
Me: Like those pour souls are moving at a brisk 30 MPH as opposed to my crawling 15 MPH.

Short story, long; I sit in head-pounding traffic, worse than anything I could ever have imagined, for another 30 minutes until I reach the 5 South, my original choice., where speeds are averaging 65MPH. No shit. I fly the rest of the way and get home at 6:30; one hour and 40 minutes after my departure. Had I stayed with the 134 to the 5 route, I would've arrived at 6:15 and change. Apparently, my GPS was taking me down Rosemead Blvd. until it turned into Lakewood Blvd., then to the 91 East. How that would save time, I do not know. How that would've raised my blood pressure to vein-busting proportions, I can easily describe.

Moral of this story: When you've been driving the LA freeways for 30+ years, trust your gut when it comes to traffic.