Photo: David CJ/Shutterstock

How to Piss Off Someone From California

by Jessica Golich Aug 30, 2016

We’ve got it all. The sunshine, surf, the mountains, a Mediterranean climate, lush beaches, glitz and glam, $2000 one bedroom apartments, and enough diversity to keep you contemplating whether or not you’re in another country. Hipsters and wannabe actors packing up all of their worthless belongings and trekking out west is as common as plastic surgery in LA. Traffic sucks, but it is a factor that is worth justifying paying the big bucks. Tourists are flooding California in record numbers, and although that brings upon billions of dollars, there are many factors that leave Californians royally miffed. Yes, we’ve got an unabashed, brassy and downright shameless universal attitude, but we’ve got a lot to back that up.

Being a tourist.

No, we do not want to accompany you on a stroll down Hollywood & Highland to check out the Hollywood Walk Of Fame, buy a bogus star map, or jump on the smog-infested tourist trolleys that takes you on a tour of “celebrity” homes. Your slow stroll through infested city streets that block the way for human beings that have places to go and things to do gets our motors running while your camera’s point to the ground to take photos of piss-covered indentations of washed-up celebrities that get stepped on by your overly-priced basic bitch heels.

Shutting down the 405.

This is the equivalent of a living fucking nightmare. Either your “stick it to the man” attempt or the man continuing to stick it to us is literally taxing on more stress to the daily commute and raking up the number of mental breakdowns that occur on a daily basis. For starters, LA tops the charts for road-rage related posts, and shutting down the 405 as the population continues to grow and drivers put more miles in means it’s only going to get worse. Traffic already destroys aspects of our quality of life; invest our tax money elsewhere and save us the headache.

Talk shit about In-N-Out.

We fucking love In-N-Out as much as you love celebrity sightings. Shamelessly waiting in the drive-thru line that typically extends onto the jam-packed city streets is what we do for a deliciously divine and greasy bag full of fast food gold. From glassy-eyed stoners to vans full of teeny bopper sports team, In-N-Out is poppin’ 24-7 and is hands down the greatest fast food joint throughout the states. They even pay their staff a buck above the minimum wage to start and are known to treat their employees like Kings and Queens. I mean, they fucking better if they are in control of our caloric magnificence.

Expressing your close-minded opinions about another’s individuality.

People forthrightly express themselves comfortably when they are in an environment where they feel safe doing so. California provides a boldly fierce environment for an individual to brazenly walk down Sunset Boulevard in their 1970’s thrift store bra that their nanny may have worn while snorting coke off of her mistress’ chest. If an individual fears retaliation, ridicule, punishment or persecution in some form when expressing themselves, chances are they will stay silent and insecurely undemonstrative. Life is an eclectic freak show in California, and we fucking love that piece of the puzzle.

Name-dropping celebrities like it’s hot.

We don’t give a rat’s ass if you were on a hike at Runyon Canyon or Lands End Trail and came across a washed-up reality TV show that has no idea what direction their life is heading, let alone the hiking trail ahead of them. No, your film script that you traveled all the way from Africa to share with movie stars in California is not going to be picked up by Paramount Pictures, and Megan Fox ain’t joining you for dinner after a run-in at the local juice shop. You can shove your small talk and adolescent enchantment where the sun doesn’t shine and continue to pray for your big break while you’re at it.

Bitching up a storm about prices.

Gas prices are through the roof and a head of lettuce costs you just as much as a fucking raw vegan’s weekly supply in the Midwest. The majority of us are scraping by just to simply exist and enjoying a craft beer on tap by the over-populated beach costs more than your lunch, but paying the high cost of living gets the benefit of the doubt over downing cheap Irish car bombs at the same beat-down hometown bar anyway.

Voting for Donald Trump.

We are a solid Democratic state. Don’t do it. The buffoon that exaggerates every syllable has a dictator mindset that does not fly in California. Donald has zero political experience and his bigoted temperament and rash decision-making spell doom for California. Let the jackass intentionally pose with buckets of KFC on his private jet to win over the East Coast, we ain’t buying it over here, bozo.

Wildfires happen. So do unplanned pregnancies.

We get it. If you live in a rural or wooded area, your home may be threatened by wildfires. This is no joke, and I do feel a touch of sympathy for those who have lost their homes due to dangerous and destructive fires in the West, but shoving the fact in every fucking Californians face is getting old. Rethink how you express your judgments.

Life isn’t only beaches and babes.

Although the glowing turquoise blue water rhythmically melds into lustrous white waves crashing on the rugged coastline to the meet the golden sand, we don’t spend every day and every hour wishing upon a dream at the beach. The wealth of bewitchingly wild beauty that the state of California has to offer surely leaves us questioning if ditching our gigs to sell paintings on the beach is the best decision for our well-being, but bitch, we’ve got bills to pay.

Litter at our national parks.

The long lines and jam-packed campsites are enough. How dare you come onto our territory and toss out your empty bag of Doritos when individuals working at the park bust their ass to keep your Instagram feed looking nifty? We have enough environmental threats that potentially pose a concern; keep your trashy mentality back home.

Discover Matador