I landed at LAX airport and called for an Uber. A few years ago we couldn’t do that, ride-sharing apps were still banned from airports in America. The taxicab companies had public transportation monopolized for several decades, as they began attracting competition from start-ups like Uber and Lyft, they leaned heavily on the S word — safety. Cab companies insisted for a few years that ride-sharing is dangerous and unsafe when, in reality, some of the most dangerous vehicles I’ve ever been in said ‘taxi’ or ‘cab’ or both on the door! The only thing worse than being strapped to the back seat of a vehicle operated by an irate man who’s mustache and eyebrows are one and the same and he’s beating the steering wheel with his fist is being strapped to the back seat of a vehicle operated by an irate man who’s mustache and eyebrows are one and the same and he’s beating the steering wheel with his fist while screaming profusely at everyone in a language you don’t understand! Everyone. You don’t have to speak the language to know this dude is pissed!! What I used to have to do is hop on a hotel shuttle and lie to the driver when they asked me what hotel I’m staying at. “Marriott, please.” The shuttle would drop me off at the Marriott and then I could call Uber. Not anymore.
As I was saying, before I interrupted me with that taxi tangent, my Uber driver picked me up at LAX. She was a smokin’ hot little thing, I’m a sucker for blondes and tattoos. She told me she’s a senior at USC and she drives for Uber on the weekends to make extra money. Her car was a filthy mess, borderline vile, just enough room on her likely toxic floorboard for my feet, just like the majority of female’s cars I’ve ever been in so at least she’s normal — well, you know what I mean by that, right? 😉 I asked her what she’s studying. “Mathematics and criminal justice,” she said, “FBI. Anti-terrorism.” Wow! That’s impressive! I’d only be in her car for about 20 minutes but ‘mathematics and criminal justice with a hot, tattooed chick?!’ I’m in! That all changed when I asked her what she thought about Ted Kaczynski and the look of confusion that came over her suggested she’s never heard of the guy.
“You know, the Unibomber, he was a mathematician prodigy right up the street at Cal Berkeley, California who mailed out all of those letters that killed people?” She’s never heard of him. The young Uber driver studying mathematics and criminal justice in an effort to combat terrorism for the FBI has never heard of the terrorist who, just 20 years ago, was #1 on the FBI’s most wanted list — it just doesn’t make sense! You know what I mean by that, right? Well, that wasn’t as bad as the billboard!
Still being driven by the young aspiring FBI agent and senior at prestigious USC studying mathematics and criminal justice, I saw a billboard on the freeway advertising AstroTurf. Just to clear the air; we’re still in Los Angeles, California, even the smog is skunky here. There’s an AstroTurf billboard on the side of the freeway that says “Our Grass Is Legal In All 50 States.” It didn’t have a weed leaf on it or a prop 420 logo on it, nothing like that. The billboard is undeniably, undoubtedly an advertisement for AstroTurf and whoever designed it was clever with a good sense of humor.
I laughed, “that’s funny, ‘legal in all 50 states,’ good one!” That cute little, body spray scented, blonde haired, tattooed, USC educated driver of an unsanitary vehicle who, at that very moment, literally had my life in her hands, through her innocent and confused, squeaky voice asked me:
“Did AstroTurf used to be illegal in some states?”
🤔 :brraaakes: ‘uhm... what? Really? Hey, do you really go to USC?!’ It just doesn’t make sense! You know what I mean by that, right?
Like joggers who run in place at the crosswalk — it just doesn’t make sense! I understand a little extra movement, I guess, but to run in place at a crosswalk as though preparing for the ‘walk’ sign to illuminate like a gun shot and you’re Usain Bolt just doesn’t make sense.
Or lesbians that use strap-on’s?! ‘Uhm... I thought I read somewhere you hated those things?’ It doesn’t make sense, in fact, the only thing that makes sense about a strap-on is when you spell it backwards. N. O. I’ll let you finish the rest.
That was your first time spelling it backwards wasn’t it? It’s like race car only different. R. A.
Like changing your shirt to ride your Harley — it doesn’t make sense. Eh!! :attention: the long sleeve shirt you had on, the one that said “DeWalt” was fine. What’s so cool about an Iron Cross that says ‘born to be wild’ anyway? You know what I mean by that, right? It just doesn’t make sense.
Like getting out of the shower and, in the middle of drying off, you begin talking yourself out of getting back in the shower because you’ve just been made aware you’re about to experience a post shower turd. “Well, hello to you, too, Mother Nature!” There’s no point in trying to talk yourself out of it when it comes to a post shower turd, they’re horrible and the timing sucks, everyone knows this!! Don’t even bother to finish drying off, it doesn’t make sense! Have a seat, take your time, do what nature’s insisting you do and hop back in that shower upon completion — at least the water won’t take long to get hot.
But something that doesn’t make sense isn’t the same as something that’s awkward. Big difference actually. Feeling awkward is uncomfortable, it’s a complicated emotion to embrace, it’s... well, awkward! It’s a moment you’d rather just hurried itself up and was finished, something you could’ve lived the remainder of your life having never known — awkward. You know what I mean by that, right?
So I’m in the dentist chair with both the dentist and her lovely assistant and they’re about to do some work on me. It isn’t too terrible. What happened was, as a kid, one of my front teeth got a little chip in it. Over time, the crown will lose its color so every five years or so, I get it replaced. Ok, now you know I like my teeth, that was a freebie, I didn’t anticipate releasing that information. And besides, who doesn’t love the sound of a good high frequency electric drill inside their head? So, I’m in the chair and the dentist needs to observe the motion between my bottom teeth and my top teeth before she can do her job. I can’t remember how she asked but what she wanted me to do was move my teeth side to side so she could see how my bottom teeth glide passed my top teeth. I didn’t know what she was asking, either that or she wasn’t being clear, I thought she wanted me to bite down or open wide or stick my tongue out and cough or anything other than move my jaw side to side. I didn’t understand, you know what I mean by that, right?
Now that I’m doing everything with my mouth other than move my teeth side to side, the dentist is telling me to do “this” with your jaw, “no, not like that, like this.” Then her assistant, a woman in her late 20’s or early 30’s, wearing a mint green smock with pink and white flowers on it looked at me through the orange safety glasses she’s wearing to prevent her eyes from being splashed with water. She pulled down her surgical mask exposing her red lipstick, painted lips and perfectly white, sparkly teeth so I could see the movement of her mouth when she looked me in the eye and said:
“Your lower jaw.”
🤔 :brraaakes: ‘uhm... what? Really?? Hey, doc, do you think it’s a good idea for her to be anywhere near my mouth??’
I’m well aware the only jaw on my whole entire face that moves is the lower one but thanks for the heads up, lady! “Awkward.”
You know what I mean by that, right? Like hanging out with about 10 of your buddies and you’re talking about hot chicks, money, the past, you know? The same things you always talk about with your buddies. You ask them something like ‘if you could be with anyone right now, any girl in the world, famous, not famous, it doesn’t matter, you only get one choice, any girl you want — who is it??’ And in unison, all 10 of them respond with: “Your Girl!” ‘Eh.. Hu? Wh-what?’ Yeah, that’s what I mean by awkward.
Or defending myself when my buddy’s multi-millionaire dad is showing off his brand new Tesla and felt inclined to mention: “I put down 30% cash.” Hey, El douche-0, the douchiest douchebag dad I’ve ever met, don’t judge my mouth when it instinctually responded “it’s just a fancy Prius.” Well, #steemit, I bet you didn’t know this! He could’ve bought a Prius outright with that 30% down payment, oh yeah, he told me! Awkward.
Like hanging out with your buddy and you’re right in the middle of talking about something when his wife calls and he stops your conversation — “hold up!” Absolutely, talk to your wife, that’s not the awkward part. And then he begins negotiating the color of a bedskirt. You know you heard him clearly when he told her “burgundy, really? It’s your call but last night we agreed sea foam green matches the throw pillows.” That’s awkward.
Or when you’re in the gym and there’s only three of you in there, it’s a small gym with just enough room to train. It’s you, the steroid guy who still bleaches the tips of his hair — his hatchback sounds like a crotch rocket with a bad exhaust leak. Yeah, him. It’s just you, him, and the girl who wears the smallest booty shorts ever in the gym. Yeah, her. She’s half naked, doing her best to distract you, you’re doing your best not to pay attention to either of them and Ka’pow! You’re engulfed in an overwhelming rancid essence of capital Fart! A thick and unavoidable, dense, protein-packed excretion — the kind that’ll fog up a good pair of eyeglasses. Either the coolest bleached hair guy I’ve ever seen or the smokin hot chick just blew the place up and cut my work out short like “screw it! I’ll wash my hands at the house.” That’s awkward!
Like nominating two people who won’t cheese out on the nomination and instead will actually post a #comedyopenmic piece. You know what I mean by that, right?
Thanks a lot for having me 
Here’s a copy of the #contest rules in case you’re doing something weird like not following
(Not this time 
