Ripped Off In Los Angeles (Part 1 because I’m sure it will keep happening)

Hey guys, Hannah here on HowtoHannah my blog that I don’t post on anymore and haven’t given any actual how-to advice on.  If my writing sucks it’s because I’m thrown off from a long stressful day on my futon doing nothing.  Just kidding, in case my boss reads this I was working on a script.  Anyways shut up Hannah and let’s move on.
So as you may no, that is not how you spell know.  And I didn’t feel like backspacing because as I said I’m still tired from laying on my futon.  Anyways, I live in Hollywood and there are a lot of eccentric people.  By eccentric I mean eccentric and by eccentric I sometimes mean I hate them.  Not all of them.  But some of them.  And hate is strong because I hate Hitler so I guess I dislike them.
Here’s an example.  About, oh I don’t know, maybe…2 weeks, 3 days, 11 hours, 42 minutes, and 3 seconds ago, this man approached me on my way back from work.  He was wearing sunglasses and said “Excuse me do you speak English?”  I knew I did but I couldn’t think of the word to express that so I said “No.  OH WAIT yes.  Yes I do.”   So he said “Oh thank God, you won’t believe this but the last 3 families I talked to all spoke French.  I was baffled.  This poor English speaking man lost in the middle of Down Town LA.  He then made the completely rational point that this meant he needed two quarters for bus fare so naturally I pulled those suckers right out of my money slot and handed them to him.  He thanked me and went on his day.  I loved myself.  Then two days ago a man comes up to me and says “Excuse me ma’am do you speak English?”  I don’t normally do this but I narrowed my eyes and without turning my body, swiveled my head 180 degrees to meet his slimy little gaze.  I said “Yes.”  Now he was smart, don’t get me wrong, because he didn’t use the same story.  He said “You won’t believe this, the last few people I passed spoke Portuguese” so he did change the language.  But he should have changed the girl he approached.  He should have recognized me because it’s not every day you come across a 5’4 white brunette girl in LA.  Idiot.  So I came up with the best lie ever and said “Sorry I don’t have any change.”  I gave him a sympathetic head tilt as I crossed the street and descended into the underworld to catch the metro.  Then I realized I actually didn’t have two quarters because I’m 22 and only moderately qualified to do anything. The point is, I get that some of these people have it worse off than I do but when you ask me for two quarters and lie about why you need it, you are not only embarrassing me, you are robbing me of my life savings and my two weekend gum balls that I look forward to every week.
Here’s another story about men I hate.  Sorry men.  Not all men.  Just most of them.  I was on the bus on my way back from work again because I’m a carless peasant.  A 50-year-old man (if I’m being kind) sat next to me and said I was beautiful.  That’s it.  I just wanted you to know that half blind grave-ridden corpses think I’m hot.  Just kidding, there’s slightly more to it.  He said “What are the odds you have a boyfriend?”  And I couldn’t remember how odds worked so I think I responded something like negative fifteen over W.  He stared at me contemplating how I figured out the bus system and then asked me what the odds of getting my number were.  I was confused about why my grandfather was hitting on me but I knew it wasn’t right so I said 0.  He asked why and in my head it was because I didn’t like the idea of his fuzzy grey garden hose near my beautiful sacred porcelain body where you can sometimes actually see my organs beating if you look at it in the right light.  But I told him that I don’t give it out to strangers.
Then another time I was rushing to work because I’m not necessarily always responsible and a man stops me to introduce himself because he understood good timing.  So I sat there contemplating two things.  Should I cherish the beautiful camaraderie still in the world and shake this man’s hand so that our souls can connect and we can truly love one another and all of mankind?  Or should I rush to work because that’s how I get paid and this man has a boner and I’m the only girl under the age of Cleopatra within 3 miles?  I chose the latter and shook his hand but then told him I had to get going.  Then a few weeks later I was waiting for the bus again and he came up to me and started getting a little cozy and I backed away and he said “Why are you scared of me?  You were last time too!!!”  I wondered why he thought it was a good idea to scare me twice.  It’s like how I act with dogs.  When I try to play with them, they fill their mouth and teeth with my arm up to the shoulder, yet I still don’t leave them alone.  He was being like me.  Then he said “IT’S BECAUSE I’M BLACK ISN’T IT!”  To which I thought, “No it isn’t sir, you’re omitting a few other details that could equate to why I don’t want to talk to you.”  He eliminated his age of 50 (not that I hate 50 year olds but I’m not even half that), he was trying to shake my hand as I’m literally running to work, he remembers me, and I just all around hate him.  If he was white, Asian, Mexican, whatever, I would hate him regardless.  To me, it’s beautiful that hatred can cross all boundaries.  If he were turquoise I might have let it slide though.
But this is not all to make me seem like a victim because sometimes I too am the perpetrator.  It was a few weeks after I had started working and I finally realized that I don’t have to stop for a 20 minute conversation with a gal whose underwear is on her head while she’s yelling at a brick wall for cheating on her and I don’t have to explain to every person why I can’t give them my wallet for the day.  Instead, I had become the opposite asshole who walks by people sometimes even backhanding them across the face if they tilt their head to look at a sign behind me.  I was walking to the bus again and some man started asking me something but I ignored him like the boss ass bitch I am.  Walked right on to that bus without giving him the time of day.  Don’t care.  Never have, never will.  Until I got on the bus and the driver started lowering the ramp for this wheel-chair bound man who was asking me for help.  And that is the day I met Satan.  He didn’t even wait for me to die, he just straight up sucked me into Hell because I am evil.
AFTER THOUGHT:  In the last paragraph I’m just trying to be funny by being the biggest jerk ever BUT when it actually comes down to it I don’t think mentally ill homeless people are funny because then I would actually be satan.  Love ya <3

One Thought on “Ripped Off In Los Angeles (Part 1 because I’m sure it will keep happening)

  1. Anonymous on October 15, 2016 at 10:50 pm said:

    I hope you are having a great time in LA! I miss you!

    And be safe!! 🙂

    Love, mom. I mean Madeline

Leave a Reply

Post Navigation