The End

Apocalypse Now, 1979

This is the end

Beautiful friend

This is the end

My only friend, the end


I’ve decided to no longer drive for Uber. Fuck those clowns. I’ve shamefully have neglected this blog, partly because I haven’t been driving, and when I have, nothing worth writing about happened.

I’ve enjoyed driving for them, but I haven’t done it in awhile for various reasons.t Ultimately because I don’t want to. It was fun. I liked helping and meeting people, but it’s a scam. They’re getting rich while drivers are struggling to get by.

I realize there are some drivers out there doing well, good for them (really), but they’re most likely in prime locations and working their ass off to do so. Not everyone is pulling in the same wages as the few lucky bastards making good money.

At first, there’s the excitement of the new job, the adventure of the road and the ability to decide when you want to go on the clock. That’s what appealed to me (after losing a great paying job I hated), and the fact that I didn’t have to take a drug test (as a returning medical cannabis patient after losing said job).

In the beginning it was thrilling, it was an adventure that was different everyday. But after a few months (and the increase of Uber drivers floating around, all fighting for the same customers), the reality of the Ube life started setting in.

I could hang in L.A., but the number of competing drivers is bigly (haha, fuck that douche) and I didn’t sign up to sit in traffic all day. Hells-to-the-nah.

I enjoy writing. It still remains to be seen if Im any good at it, but I love it all the same. I started another blog, SpiderBarks, geared towards writing, and I hope to publish an ebook or two later this year. So, for the most part, I will be spending my time over there.

Uber just isn’t for me anymore, and quite possibly not for anyone. These greedy schmucks at the top can’t seem to get their shit together after being rocked by scandal after scandal. They might be making some big changes here in the near future with Travis Kalanick taking a LOA and a new top dog behind the wheel, but despite what they may shake up, it’s too late for me. And positive change as yet to be seen.

And I’m not the only one who feels this way. It seems that anyone with a little bit of intelligence has seen the endeavor as it really is, past the initial excitement, a swindle that benefits the big guys more than the drivers bringing in the cash money.

Where does this leave people who don’t have many options, or currently stuck in the Ube life supporting a family?

Uber definitely benefits communities by providing cheap travel fare for it’s people, but at the expense of the driver. The average Uber driver, after you figure in gas, taxes and depreciation, makes far less than minimum wage. Sit down and do the math, the evidence is right there in black and white despite the propaganda Uber feeds us.

I had started to realize this a while ago, but was determined to make a strong effort to make it work in my community. But it’s just not possible. New drivers are getting on the road everyday, and that cuts into my pool of clientele. It’s just not feasible to pay the bills with Uber, that’s why they market it as a “side hustle”, but through propaganda, encourage drivers to devote more time to driving, swelling their pockets further.

A success of a business is measured by how rich the people at the top get without regard for the people at the bottom bringing in the profit (the workers). How is that not completely fucked?

It’s impossible to survive on minimum wage these days. One can’t even pay rent with that chump change, and everyone is hiring a grip of part-timers to fill the roster to avoid paying people benefits or handing out hours one can support a family with. This has become the new norm and we’re supposed to except this.

But that’s capitalism for you, hail the wealthy and fuck the people. Everything is going up accept wages, and that’s because profit always come first. It doesn’t make sense if someone isn’t getting rich because that’s how it’s designed.

Anyway, despite how you feel about all that jazz, it doesn’t change the truth. Fact is fact despite what you choose to believe. Belief will never Trump fact (see what I did there?).

So, will I ever drive for Uber again? Possibly. But it will never be for income, not anymore. If I choose to let strangers ride in my car for next to nothing, again, it will be for character research. One can learn a lot about how people talk and craft believable dialogue (for writing fiction) by driving for Uber.

I’m not sure how much longer Uber Legends will stay up, it has been fun, but the Ube life ain’t fo dis cat no mo.

Uber Lame


Ubering has been sort of dry lately—as far as stories go. Nothing worth reporting for a chuckle or a smile. Not even nasty fucks to make fun of. My draft folder has some sorry attempts at trying to stretch some funny phrases, questions and/or answers or whatever. But for short little things of that nature, I tend to feed it to my Instagram.

If you is on the Instagrams, then you should peep the comics I post there. Be sure to follow along to check out the rest of my shenanigans, and if you’re not a serial killer or a juggalo, I’ll follow back.

This was a poor attempt at a post, as content filler, due to the lack of, well, content. I just might have to start traveling a little farther for better material. Sucks, my lame blog is getting lamer.

Shit Left in my Car vol. 1

Something new I thought I would try in order to try and get myself to post more often, and switch it up a bit. I’ve seen people do similar things on the Instagram.

For the first addition, I thought I’d re-share a picture from a previous post, that is true to this new subcategory title to its literal meaning. You can read that story here.

I’ll try not to post such a shitty picture next time.


On the Road Again


Finally, after the misery of a broken rib, I is back on the grind. I’ve been writing a lot lately, not about the Ube life, unfortunately, but some fiction and another blog I started geared towards that sort of thing.

I’ll share that down the road, once I get my dot com purchased and stuff.

I’ve been out on the road a few times, with no interesting rides. It has been dead for me. Either my area switched to Lyft, or there is a grip more drivers in my hood sucking up all my business. I used to own the nights. Sucks a fatty and I’ve been bored as balls.

I did drive a couple to LAX  a couple weeks back and I couldn’t help but think about running people over, bustin’ caps with my uzi and looking for stunt jumps. The last 300 times I had been there was on GTA 5.

I took another girl to L.A. just the other night. A friend hooked her up with the ride and she was so happy to be leaving the area, she had broken down in tears. She said she had been stuck here for awhile.

“I came out here on a quest for love and he turned out to be the biggest idiot ever,” she said. “I’m just so happy to finally be leaving this place, so excuse me if I breakdown crying back here.”

She cried for awhile with her head down. I felt bad for her, but I was happy that she was moving on to a better place.

I dropped her off in an alleyway—it didn’t appear that she had anywhere to go and that she was on her own. It was sad

“Good luck,” I said.

“Thanks, please pray for me. I’m going to need all that I can get.”

I wish her the best, whatever her name was—she never told me.

Last night I drove a small family with a baby in a dirty diaper that I had the pleasure of smelling for the fifteen minute ride.

This has been the extent of my adventures so far. I need to recalibrate and get my hustle on, nom’tom’bout?

It’s been slow and boring, but I’m optimistic about it, I hope to get back in the flow of things soon. I do enjoy driving for Uber, although they seem to enjoy sticking their foots up their asses and then in their mouths. Then, like they have forgotten what poop tastes like, they stick it back up their ass again. I hope Uber gets their shit together, because it just might be time to peep out Lyft, and see what’s cracking up in der.

Me, Myself & I

I’ve been writing this blog for a few months now and I thought maybe it was a time to do a post more about my over flatulant self.

I used to work in a warehouse for a large retailer and had been with that company for ten years before giving my life to Uber. I had a good schedule and I made decent money–but I was miserable, like so many other people that I worked with up in that joint.

The thing that sucked about it the most, was the random drug tests. I’m a medical marijuana patient and I had to give that up for that job. I never got drug tested past the initial hiring phase, but it wasn’t worth the risk. The happy smoke helps me with some personal and medical problems, but don’t get it twisted homes, I enjoy its recreational purpouses–very much so.

When I got fired from that god-awful well paying job–them bitches a bit strict–I was actually relieved. The stress and anxiety of where the hell is money going to come from now soon slapped me across the face, but I was out that bitch–forced out, but out. I don’t care much for the company I worked for and have a few choice words for them, but it was stable reliable work and now I had to find different work.

You can reapply in six months.

Fuck that.

Well, if I can help it.

I had to get rid of my SUV because I couldn’t afford it anymore, unemployment was dicking me around, so I got a brand new bucket with better gas mileage.

And boom went the dynamite.

Smoking out with a friend (I started blazing again the very next day after losing my job), it hit me, try that Uber thing. It doesn’t pay all the bills, but it sure helps–and its fun–usually.

As an aspiring writer, I have enjoyed documenting some of my shenanigans behind the wheel. It keeps me practicing the craft when I’m boucing around from project to project. I also like to draw. I dreamed of a gig as a penciler in the comic biz growing up, but never serously persued it, dummy. I was rewriting a friends story into a comic book script and it turned out great, but I found myself longing to write more when it was over.

So I did just that. I started writing. I still doodle from time to time, as you can see on my Instagram.

I was born in 1980, so I’m at that point in my life where I’m not old just yet, but I’m not young either. I have three children; boy, girl, boy; 10, 8, 2. They make me feel old. When I conversate with the average person 10-15 years younger than me, I tend to lose all understanding on reality and feel senile. When the fuck did that happen?

I’ve been trying to get a job in the medical marijuana industry with zero experience. I like helping people–within reason. I am for the most part a private person in real life (unless you know me well, than God help you), but if I’m able to help someone, I will do the best of my ability to help that person. A legit weed job helping others safely obtain medical/recreational cannabis would bring me joy . That’s why I like driving for Uber, while I might not fully respect them as a company, I can make money helping others on my own terms.

Well, there you have it, a little bit about the weird guy behind this blog.



As I sit here in my fart smelling recliner in achy pain after a wake and bake session, I think about the other bones I’ve broken throughout my career as a stunt man. I know this doesn’t quite fit under an Uber Legend, but this falls under the other stories category.

Broken bone number 1, my left wrist. My sister and I took a different bus home from school so we could have access to a different location of the military housing base we lived; I was in fourth grade and she in third. I think I may have made her come with me, there was a huge ditch with a huge tree branching over it and tied to it, was a long rope with bike handle bars–of course.

After a swing or two, while out on the rope, one of my sweaty palms slipped off a handle bar. I was still pretty high up and landed on my wrist. I had never broken a bone before then, but I knew it was broken. I balled the grueling long walk home in a excruciating pain.

Broken bone number 2, my ring finger on my left hand. I slipped on some wet grass running through it like a dumbass and jammed my finger into a sprinkler head. At the hospital, where I had become famous in Orthopedics, the doctor had to twist the bone back into place. Most painful 1.5 seconds of my life (before many coughs with this broken rib I currently be rockin’).

Broken bone number 3, my left elbow, kind of had a theme going on back then. If I remember correctly some boy from my sister’s class was talking crap to her–stupid kid stuff. For some reason it escalated stupidly and I thought it was smart to kick him. He caught my foot, dragged me forward a bit before yanking my feet out from underneath me. Broken bone number three.

It wasn’t a bad break, just a hairline fracture, but I had to wear a stupid splint in a sling. While in the schools library, I stumbled onto my sister’s class sitting at a large table. Her teacher made a joke about her student and me referencing the Karate Kid, the whole class laughed at me. Stupid bitch.

Broken bone number 4, my right fibula, this one was painful. I don’t understand how this one happened. I was riding a bike, I popped a wheelie and leaned too far back, but I didn’t fall. I landed on my feet, easy right–nope. My fibula broke and I dropped like an elephantiasis sack.

Broken bone number 5, this wasn’t a broken bone, but I tore tendons in my right ankle trying to ollie over a trash can, like I had done so many times before. This time, I rolled my foot off my skateboard and–pop. I both heard it and felt it rip. My foot swelled to the size of a football and I was in a cast for a very long time.

Broken bone number 6, my right hand, in an argument I tried to punch out a car window for some stupid reason. I didn’t. I fractured my hand. I was wrapped up in a splint for a little bit. Dummy.

Broken bone number 7, my right foot, switched up my theme for a bit. I accidentally kicked the side of a walk-in pantry as I entered and cracked a bone just behind my pinky toe or something. Fucking hurt. A lot. I had to work with it too, because I couldn’t afford to take time off work and they wouldn’t cast it because of it’s location.

Broken bone number 8, this stupid ass rib. Apparently my mutant powers are just now manifesting, and I have the ability to produce super bone breaking coughs. Yeah, lucky me. Its been a few weeks, so the peak of the pain is gone.

I think I missed one. I think there may have been another skateboarding injury in there I’m forgetting, there were so many twists and pulls and sprains and strains and rasberries and whatnot. I had some knee problems that started at eight that got me locked up in full legged cast for awhile–more than once. I was pretty famous for being in a cast of some sort.