This Week in Rage – 1/19/14
This Week in Rage, a blog about the top three things that pissed me off this week:
“Will Do” App – I’ve sat in the back of a town car with Dr. Drew a cajillion times listening to him attempt to hang up with his screwball wife. I hear this all the time at airports and in line at the Starbucks. A guy is clearly on the phone with his wife or elderly parent, is desperately trying to wind down the conversation and hang up but the person on the other line is not getting the clue. You hear them say, as I heard Drew say to his old lady repeatedly, “ok, will do…Will Do. Will do.” I heard Lynette doing this the other day with her dad. “Okay Papa. Ok. We’ll see you then. Yes, we’ll see you then. Okay. Okay.” Lap after lap of the subtle “shut the fuck up, old man.” She didn’t want to be rude but I wanted to dive and slap the phone out of her hand.
But I have a better solution. How about this as the world’s greatest app? It will work on your iPhone or Android smart-phone. When it hears the third “Will Do” within a two-minute period static kicks in and it hangs up. And then when that person calls you back they get a “not in service” message, like you have no signal. Of course you’ll have the ability to disable it if after the second “will do” the person brings up something important – like your prowess on the football field in 1981.
No More Bun Boy Signs – For all you L.A. area locals who are used to driving to Vegas and seeing the billboards for the Bun Boy, I hope you’re bracing yourself – The Bun Boy is no longer with us. There is no more Bun Boy. I was devastated. I was like that Indian with the single tear from the ‘70s litter commercials… if that guy had a Miller Lite between his legs, going 86 miles per hour and was saying, “Well, we’ll just have to go to the In & Out”. To catch you non-locals up, the drive from L.A. to Vegas was strewn with billboards for a shitty restaurant called the Bun Boy. And when I say billboards I’m not talking about one or two. These things were every 42 feet along the 15 Freeway. As soon as you said you were considering driving to Vegas they’d erect one at the end of your driveway that read “Bun Boy – 141 Miles”. Now they’re all replaced with signs for something called “Alien Fresh Jerky”. I don’t trust any group less with jerky than aliens. I want fat white racists making my jerky, not little asexual grey things with huge eyes and heads. Unless they mean illegal aliens. I feel like I could trust the Mexicans to make jerky.
Amy Adams’ Golden Globes Speech – I’ve got no beef with her but she did one of those actressy things that drives me insane. She thanked everybody – costars, agents, managers, etc. Then at the end she thanked her obnoxiously named child who, by her own admission, was not old enough to understand what she was saying. And why did she thank her? Because she taught her how to “embrace joy and let go of fear”. Her daughter is three. She probably only taught her Amy how to have a Guatemalan chick take care of her while Mama was on set at 3 a.m. This is the same as the guy who announces his wife is his best friend. He doesn’t mean it, he just does it to make the rest of us look like assholes. I have twins. They’ve taught me nothing. All I’ve learned is kids are expensive and have no gratitude.