Today on my drive to work, I followed a green Nissan for most of my trip along the 110. I noticed right away that on the driver’s side, there was one of those flags that proclaim the car owner’s favorite sports team. This one was a yellow flag with purple script, so I immediately assumed this guy was a Lakers fan. As I got closer, however, I realized the wording wasn’t “Lakers” but actually, “Jesus.” Hmm. The script was the same as if it was a Lakers flag, and there was even writing above the script where “Los Angeles” would have gone. Alas, I couldn’t make out what those words were as the writing was too small and the flag was whipping around like crazy. I started to think about what the driver was trying to say with this flag. I’m pretty sure there are no sports teams named Jesus. Is he saying that Jesus is a Lakers fan? Are Jesus’ colors purple and gold? I know purple is the color of royalty, but I would think Jesus would prefer something a little more masculine than purple. Although, Shaq is pretty masculine and he looks good in purple. Or, was this man equating Jesus to the Lakers? I don’t know if Jesus would like that comparison based on how poorly L.A. did in the playoffs this year. Or, maybe he’s saying that Jesus is on Kobe’s side on this whole sexual molestation thing. I don’t know. What could possibly have been written where “Los Angeles” should have been on the flag? What is Jesus’ hometown, anyway? Damn, I should read the Bible or something. These are the thoughts that go through my head on my morning drive. The driver of that car should take better care of his Jesus tributes, however: the flag was all tattered. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – Burbank may be a weird, stinky city, but it always comes through when you’re feeling like crap about yourself. A little while ago I went for a short walk to cool off after getting REALLY PISSED at my STUPID LAME ASS COMPANY for completely SCREWING ME OUT OF A TRIP I WAS PROMISED OVER A YEAR AGO. Anyway. As I was walking back to my office, a man carrying a bunch of folders stopped me. I figured he was looking for something, so I actually stopped to hear what he had to say. Folder Man: Excuse me, but can I ask you something? Me: Sure. Folder Man: This may catch you off guard, but I was wondering if you were in a relationship. Me: What?! Folder Man: Because, I saw you walking and I thought you were really pretty, and I was wondering if I could get your number. Me: Um, thanks, that’s nice, but I’m in a relationship. Folder Man: Oh, you are? How’s that going for you? Me: Fine, thank you (starting to walk away). Folder Man: Well, can I give you my number so that if your relationship doesn’t work out, you can call me? Me: No, I don’t think so (still walking). Folder Man: (yelling after me) Oh, it’s serious, then? Me: (walking into my building) Yeah, it’s great, thank you! So. What is with weird men? While it’s nice that he thought I was pretty, there were a few things wrong with his approach. First of all, he shouldn’t have asked me if I was in a relationship because no matter what, I was going to say yes. Two, he didn’t take no for an answer. Three, he was yelling after me as I walked away, right outside my building. Hello, you are a stranger. Why would I give you my number when we haven’t even spoken? God. But, at least I got a nice little image boost, which elevated my mood slightly. Stupid Company. I will bitch about it tomorrow.