In my continuing tour of cities of the peninsula, I made my way to quaint Burlingame, primarily famous for its retarded Jewelry Exchange commercial that's been playing since time immemorial; and Hayward Park. The former was like a typical town in the peninsula, stores here and there with trees dotting the sidewalk, and a promenade in the center of town. I primarily am always on the look out for places to pee when I take these trips in dent of my hummingbird bladder and propensity to down my to-go drank.

Once I'd taken in as much of it as I card to, I hopped back aboard the CalTrain and went two stops down to the techtropolis wasteland that is Hayward Park. They actually have a video store there in addition to a couple of highrises full of burgeoning tech companies and brand spanking new luxury condos.

What I didn't factor in was the limited power on both my cell phone and earpods, so once I heard that descending ding, I headed right on back to the train to get home and recharge that shit before I would be subjected to random city sounds around me.

The horror. The terror.

I wish I was technologically savvy enough to put together a supercut of Bad Janet from "The Good Place."

The Trader Joe's nearest me finally hired security to ward off transients and that geisha tranny who haunts the place. Last I saw, it was two sistas on walkie talkies shootin' the shit. And I applaud this.