ONCE UPON A TIME, I HAD PET DUCKS

Once upon a time, I had pet ducks. McLovin and Thunder Dan (named after the best their ever was, period). I don't know why, but I've always had a thing for ducks and kangaroos. Ducks I can't explain, they're just hilarious to me. But every now and then I have a dream where I've got a pet kangaroo and he carries my books to class in his pouch. Awesome. I have a ton of stories about that crazy pair, but I found this old story about the beginnings of Thunder Dan and McLovin, and thought I'd share it here... You know, because I don't have a whole lot else to talk about at the moment, and you don't really have anything better to do but read a 1,285-word story (that is, if you're spending your time here).

Welcome to My Life - The Wild Goose Chase
September 20, 2007

I guess it would be more appropriate to call it a duck hunt than a goose chase, because in reality, that's exactly what it is. Anyways, we all know that I want a duck, ducks to be precise, and I am going to get them. That's just the way it is. The adventure technically began a few days ago with a post on craigslist with me asking the animal lovers of LA where I might be able to acquire a duck. I got a handful of responses all leading me toward downtown LA. I did some legwork and called around, and no one sells damn ducks; they just don't. I guess I should have thought about this in advance, but that would be giving up, and I'm stubborn as hell. Anyways, the emailers said they could be found downtown, so that was where I was headed...

Well, where me and Alex were headed. I should have known how this day would go with the way it started, but whatever. Alex wakes me up with a call from campus around, ooh, 11 or so. He has a meeting til 12, yada yada. Oh wait, his car is here, and his keys are at the girls' house. So, me and Brenden have to drive to the girls' house, where Arianna is sitting on the floor in the fetal position in her underwear, to get Al's keys then drive back home, where I can get his car and drive to campus to pick him up. Obviously. Great way to start the day. Like I said, this was an indicator of what the day would hold.

So I pick Al up and we're headed downtown. Just downtown, no address, no phone numbers. On a wild goose chase, except for ducklings not gooslings... We're feeling Chinatown so that's where we go. We survive ghetto ass South Central and get to Chinatown and start asking around. Only in Chinatown, everyone is actually Chinese... who knew? So, I try to talk to all kinds of Chinamen before we finally see some white people so we pull over to ask them... oh wait, they're German tourists. Effin-A, cotton. Finally, we find a Chinawoman who speaks English, except that Al just about runs her ass over... Another sign. Are you seeing the pattern?

So she says "oh titwightowndatreet" and we're amped. Except we have to turn right and when we do we see the live poultry place with a duck and a chicken on their sign. Double amped. We park (next to the sign that says they aren't responsible when someone beats your ass and jacks your shit) and go inside. Of course, we're the only white people that have ever been in the place, and I'm a foot taller than everyone. Love it. Get to the front and find out they have ducks but no live ones. False advertisement. Better Business Bureau will be getting a call.

So we turn around and go to where that-one-lady-Al-almost-killed told us to go, and end up finding some parking at a meter. Pop in some change, good to go. Then some other Chinawoman comes at us talking gibberish about parking and we just kinda blow it off like yeah, we parked, we're good thanks. Another sign we missed. Glorious. So we go into this place, check out some samurai swords and ninja stars and all kinds of other useless crap and get directions to the pet store. Yes. Ducklings not far away. We walk a couple shops down and find the pet store. YES. We did it. Only we get to the duckling and baby chick cage and they're all out of ducklings. SOB's. So we talk to Hung, that's the guys name (and I highly doubt it's a pun), but he says next week I get my ducks. Hmm, fine. At least we found where they'll be. I try to convince Al to get some little chicks in the mean time cause they're 2 for $5 and cute as hell, but he talks me out of it. Apparently chicks turn into chickens.

We go back toward the car and decide we're going in the Chinamarket cause we have time left on the meter. I buy some new Kanye's, Al looks at cell phone crap, and we leave. Only, we leave to where the car used to be. Yes, USED to be. Apparently your car gets rolled on if it's there after 3. 'But you had time left on the meter' you're thinking... yeah, apparently that doesn't matter in this gay ass city. So, we're effed in the g-a. Al chucks his coke, I yell an f-bomb or two, and we start trying to figure out how to get the car back.

We finally find the damn phone number after calling about 8 different LA agencies and get the address to the impound. We have less than an hour and a half before they start charging even more money for the stolen car. Dick bags. So naturally, we start trotting the streets of LA like we know where we are going. After about an hour of wandering aimlessly and finding out we have the wrong address, Al's phone dying, along with the GPS in it, we decide were going with the cabby.

We wander another half an hour looking for a damn cab and finally find one and get in. Don't worry, just a $2.65 surcharge plus $.35 for every 1/7th of a mile or 47.5 seconds in the cab. Who comes up with this shit? Honestly. After about a two mile ride we suddenly owe just under $10 to cabby. Get out, pay the man, and go join the rest of the fine citizens who got jacked by some stupid 3pm law.

I don't know if you've ever been to an impound, but it is hell. They won't give us the car because it's registered to Al's dad, not him, and we have to go through all kinds of crap to get it back. Call Al's family, get crapped faxed down, yada yada, yada yada. On a side note: there was this model girl whose car got towed while she was doing a shoot downtown. How unfortunate. Maybe there is a bright side to this day. Nope, find out she's married to a Marine. Thank you for serving sir, my brother is a soldier too; but I'm going to steal your gorgeous 21 year-old wife. I'm not even kidding. I'm going to marry her. She even breaks the 5'8" rule, and I still don't have any hesitation.

Anyways, Al has a Prius and everyone knows you can't tow a hybrid with a normal tow truck, you need a flat bed or it will kill it. Obviously, the towing company didn't know that, you know, cause they're smart like that, and Mother Navarro flips. She's pretty good at it. To make this long ass story a little shorter: we got the car back. Still not sure if the genius towing guys messed up the computer with their brilliance yet, but we'll know soon I'm sure. Still livid from dealing with dick bags, we decide we're going on the duck hunt once again. Only it's rush hour, and we're going the wrong way on the 5. Fail. Turn around, get off, drive down to little Mexico, or wherever the eff we were. Get stared down, pointed at, yada yada. Nope, this pet store is closed. Done with this. Ducks aren't worth putting the life on the line today. After two hours in traffic, we finally get home. Hong Kong Express. Arizona Ice Tea. Couch. 93 Suns - Sonics game with Thunder Dan going off. Done. And. Done.