The 5 Weirdest things about Cambridge Massachusetts…

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Cambridge might be the nicest place on earth to live, so this list isn’t a criticism, but the fact is, if we can’t laugh at smart people, who’s left. Here we go.

There are no authentic black people in Cambridge. They’re all fakes. There are three accents in Cambridge; Chinese, Geek and Valley girl. (Uh-huh.) Don’t get me wrong, there are a LOT of blacks at Harvard, they just all sound like either Adam Clayton Powell or Bill Nye the science guy. Personally, I prefer Eddie Murphy, but that’s just me.

Cambridge is the worse place on earth for ROAD RAGE. It’s absurd. The funny thing is, Cambridge road rage isn’t like LA. In LA some mofo is cutting you off. Here, people lay on the horn because… well… you’re in front of them. If you stop because a woman is crossing the road pushing a stroller with twin one year olds, the guy behind you is gonna go ballistic.

People in Cambridge love Dog Shit. Picking up dog shit here is a badge of honor. This is an awful place for a dog and they’re all over. There is no nature. Yesterday I was walking down the street and I literally STOPPED because I could smell a Lilac tree. It hit be like a brick. There is no place for a dog to take a crap. One of the joys of being a dog is exploring new place to go. I saw one poor pooch doing circles in a piece of ground two feet square. My heart went out to him.

There’s only one guy that can change his own tire. He’s my neighbor Dave. Everyone else uses a service. I saw a guy in a BMW last week having a hissy fit because he had a flat tire. He’s like, “now I’m never gonna  get there!,” so I stopped and said, “you know, there’s a spare in the trunk.” He looked at me like I was questioning his sexuality.

People in Cambridge are too smart for their own good. There’s a group in Harvard that schedules “smart dating.” That’s where you’re matched up with someone with a similar IQ. Somehow, I don’t find the idea of going out with a girl because she has a nice SAT all that alluring. I can’t help thinking smart dating ends in a lot of monkey spanking.

I went to a talk at Harvard given by the actress Amy Brennerman where she talked about getting over “Harvard arrogance.” If you’ve seen Amy recently, at the ripe old age of 51, she’s still hotter than a waffle iron at a girl scout camp. One might think being too smart for the plebes wouldn’t be what she wanted to talk about.

In defense of Cambridge, if your grandfather left you ten million dollars, it’s a great place to live. It’s expensive as hell, and contrary to my peeves, the people aren’t snobs. And if you can learn the language, (I’ll have a Grande, Iced, Sugar Free, Vanilla Latte with Soy Milk), the place is awesome, especially when you can walk a mile in any direction, stop in a pub and hear a guy in perfect “Ted Kennedy” say, “the faackin caa is paaaked in a faackin paaaking  lot with the aaasshole standing thah in the faaakin rain waiting me to change his faaakin tire.”

PS: I’ve invented a new term. Line rage. That’s when the guy in front of you orders a “No Foam Latte.” To do this you have to adopt a Ted Kennedy accent. You say, “who faakin caaas if you have faaakin foam in your faaakin caaaffe?” while smacking him in the head with the back of your hand.

 

 

 

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