Recently The Captain visited a coffee shop in San Diego….here’s what went down.

On the way into the store I noticed a woman sitting outside dressed entirely in pink.  She was wearing a ratty pink sweat suit, had pink socks stuffed into her pink flip flops, and was wearing a pink visor that said “princess” in sparkling letters.  I should point out that her visor was a liar and this woman was in

Not her...but close!

no way a princess. Her head-gear could not contain the massive amount of dirty blonde curls that erupted from this woman’s scalp.  Also, she was looking less and less psychotic the more and more she was talking to the pigeons outside.

“Ok, there is a lunatic at the entrance of this building.” I said to myself, taking a mental inventory, as I entered the store.  “Be on alert when it is time to leave…nobody wants to get cut today.”

Shortly after ordering my coffee I exited the store, and this lady jumped up in front of me with a look in her eyes similar to Jack Nicholson at the end of the shining.  “TODAY IS THE DAY I AM GOING TO DIE!” I thought to myself as this pink lady started to speak in a raspy voice designated for people who are in need of an exorcism.  She held out her long ET like finger and pointed at the group of ravenous pigeons that she had been feeding.

“Help me catch this pigeon!”
“Nope.” I replied.
“There are scissors in that store over there!” She exclaimed with a blood-thirsty smile on her face.
“Definitely not!” I blurted out while making a hasty getaway.

What was this woman doing?
Help me catch this pigeon…there are scissors in that store over there…?!?!?!?

Might be one of the strangest combinations of two complete thoughts that I have heard in a while.  Did this woman want me to catch this poor bird while

Can I ask you a question?

she brutally stabbed in my hands with common office supplies?  Was the fact that there were scissors in a near by store a selling point to help me assist her in capturing this bird?  What could possibly be the reason she wanted me to catch a street bird, and hold it while she got a sharp metal object?  “I don’t really want to find out.” I determined in my head while leaving the area.

Meanwhile, during my escape, I was with a girl who asked me why I had been so dismissive of this lady.  “Did you hear what she wanted me to do?” I asked.

“Yes. She wanted you to help her catch that pigeon while she got some scissors to cut the ribbon that was tied around its legs.”

Don't feed the birds!

Ohhhh….so this lady was just being kind to an animal in need.  “I am an asshole,” I briefly thought to myself while remembering the moment.  Maybe that woman was talking to the pigeon to see if it needed help…I could go back, help her, and save the day.

Fuck that…I don’t want to touch that nasty bird in the first place!

This isn’t half bad, but it is completely ridiculous and makes me laugh.  What’s with the decor? Did these kids film this video at their Grandma’s house?  One of them looks like the Asian combination of Kanye West and Avril Lavigne.

Too much awesome!

My mom canceled my World of Warcraft account!

sorry.

The Captain is moving…apartments…you will still be able to  find him at thecaptainexplains.com.

That is, if I can last that long.  PEOPLE ARE ODD!  Here is one tale…

The other day as I was driving around Los Angeles, I stopped, got out of my car and called the number on the ‘For Rent’ sign of a 2 bedroom house.

“Hello!” shouted a woman with a thick foreign accent.

Why would you call this number?

“Hi, I am calling about the ‘For Rent’ sign at [address]”

“Why?”

(pause)

“Because I am interested in possibly moving there.” I said a little tentatively.  Why did she think I was calling?

“What do you want to know?” She demanded.

I then told her, I was interested to find out the rental price, what sort of set up the house had, and if it was possible for me to view it.  Eventually, she told me some specifics, and also informed me that since I was outside, I could come view the house because it was open.  Yet, she wanted to stay on the line with me so that she could talk me through the viewing process.  I thought that was really strange especially since I could hardly understand her through her dialect and that’s just a queer request in general.  Nevertheless, since it was a weekend and I had free minutes, I agreed to staye on the line.

But that is just the beginning, because it got even stranger…

I could not open the wrought iron gate in front of the house.  “The gate is locked,” I said as I pulled on the iron bars.

“No it’s open” she said defensively.

I pulled again, “it’s not.”

“Are you using your hands?” she asked.

WHAT? AM I USING MY HANDS?  Seriously is that a question?  What else would I be using?  I understand that there are individuals who do not have hands but rather hooks at the ends of

Swing your boleadoras around the gate and pull.

their wrists, and if that were the case, it would be impossible for me to use my hands; but at the same time, I still wouldn’t be able to open the gate!  Furthermore, if I was using hooks instead of hands it wouldn’t even be her business to know.  Am I using my hands? No, I’m a fucking monkey and I am actually using my hands AND FEET to open the door!  Am I using my hands? No crazy foreign lady, I am not using my hands, I have swung my testicles around the wrought iron poles like boleadoras and I am shifting my hips back in an effort to yank the gate wide open!

This list could go on…but my point is…OF COURSE I WAS USING MY HANDS!

During this bizarre conversation I looked around because, unlike this woman,  I was fully aware that the gate I was standing in front of was locked.  I noticed that around the other side of the fence there was another gate.  A much smaller gate that was not easily seen from the front of the house.

“Do you mean the side gate?” I asked.

“Yes, the side gate, what gate did you think I meant?”

I didn’t answer, but I was thinking “I don’t know, maybe the big huge glorious gate in the front of the house, with balloons hanging off of it, complete with a big sign reading ‘enter.’  Not the rusty piece of shit gate hidden on the side of the house that looks like it could be a doggy door or a secret entrance for Leprechauns.”

There is no water...why is this in front of your house?

Eventually, I entered through the craptastic side gate and the woman on the phone tells me to enter the house.  I say ok, but before that, I take a mental inventory of all the shit that is lying around the entrance.  There was dog chilling out, a life-jacket on the ground, and a picnic table that looked like it came from an amusement park because it was complete with a large hard plastic umbrella that could neither move up nor down.

I entered the open house. “Whoa! Somebody lives here!” I thought immediately.  The place was filled with stuff…not stuff packed in boxes as if someone was moving out, but filled with dusty furniture and old, damp oriental rugs as if somebody were still living there and had been living there for the past 20 years. There was a musty smell in the air and plenty of figurines and knickknacks on shelves.   I saw a carved wooden owl and a ‘Wizard of Oz’ collectible plate!  Sorry, I didn’t notice more, of their amazing decor,but I was on high alert because I knew this was someplace that I should not be. I saw the movie ‘Hostel’ and this was the beginning of a similar tale that I would not want to be involved with.

“Am I in the wrong place?” I inquired.

“No, this is right house.”

“Um, somebody lives here.”

“Where is my husband?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t see him?”

(pause)

“No…?”

“He is not in living room?”

“Uhhh…no.”

“Go into bedroom and find my husband.”

Go into bedroom and find my husband.

Again WHAAAAT? Go into the bedroom and find your husband? No fucking way!  I wouldn’t go into the bedroom and find your husband even if a burning bush in the front yard told me to do so, let alone some crazy lady on the phone.  So, I left, or rather ran out of that place.  I am not going to find your husband in the bedroom of a house where I am not expected.  What if I were to disrupt your husband during his private masturbation time?  That would be awkward!  Furthermore, if some dude that I did not know were to come into my bedroom unannounced I would, with out hesitation, beat him with a baseball bat…or just shoot a warning shot into his chest.  Last thing I need is a life-threatening wound inflicted upon me by an individual dressed in his underpants because his lunatic wife told me to go into the bedroom and find him.

Needless to say, I did not go back to that home, nor will I be putting in a rental application.

Yet, one thing that I cannot stop thinking about, is that I keep calling this woman crazy.  However, she probably thinks that I am crazy!  Most likely she is telling her friends that a stupid American boy came by the house today and refused to go into the bedroom and find her  husband.  Also most likley, her friends agree with her…at least to her face.

http://newyork.craigslist.org/brk/roo/1193844115.html

Here is a copy/pasted version of the entry for when this link expires in 7 days.

PostingID: 1193844115

I have said before that I want The Cavs to win their playoff series against The Magic.  Yet here is one more reason.

The Orlando fans…one in particular.

We are all pretty aware that the state of Florida is filled with freaks and weirdos, (http://abcnews.go.com/US/Story?id=6041544&page=2) and sure enough a lot of them have come out to the Orlando Magic home games.  One in particular left an impression on me.  So much so, that while I was watching game 6 of the Celtics v. Magic series, I saw this man and said, out loud, “What the hell was that!?!?!”  I rewound my DVR and paused it on this man’s image and I took a picture with my camera phone.  Take a look…it’s pretty strange.

Your eyes are not playing tricks on you…this man who is most likely in his fifties or older, is dressed in his business casual polo shirt and has dyed (or most likely used the non-permanent aerosol spray to color) the top of his hair blue.  Not only that, he is pointing to a player on the opposing team while sticking out his tongue grabbing his throat as if to imply that the player will choke.

I would have loved to seen this man dye the top of his head.

Ok…let’s examine this.  First this man is sitting in a section very close to the court during a playoff game.  We will assume that these tickets cost quite a bit of money.  Next, let’s factor in the man’s age, race, and clothing.  Ok, now we can figure that he is probably an affluent member of the Orlando community.  Now, with all that assumed, we can also say that this is NO WAY FOR THAT MAN TO BEHAVE!

Painting your head and or chest are things reserved for drunken college students and Raiders fans.  Why?  Because they are expected to be assholes.  Orlando Magic fans are expected to be hicks or retired adults, and many of the hicks cannot afford to enter the arena.  Sure there are exceptions to every rule, but really a middle aged man in a golf shirt?  Really?  Did he just play 18 holes and head to the stadium, only to reach under the back seat of his Lexus and pull out a can of blue dye hair spray?  Come on man you are sitting in the front row…behave!

I understand that Orlando does not have the celebrity presence in their arena that a team like the Lakers would have…but dude, take a hint from them…they don’t do stuff like that.  You will never see Jack Nicholson color his hair, grab his throat, stick out his toungue, and point.  You shouldn’t either.

Of course I could be wrong.  This idiot might just be a drunken hick that snuck down into these seats.  If that’s true my whole argument would be thrown out the window.  Nevertheless this would mean the staff at the TD Waterhouse Centre in Orlando Florida are actually the idiots.  How did they not notice the anomaly with BLUE HAIR sneak down to the front row?

that’s right…giggle

and I don’t know why…enjoy!