Twice in the past month, different snooty national magazines have judged us the second most stressful city in the nation.

Forbes judged our stress level on high unemployment, long commute times, long working hours, and bad health, while Portfolio also looked at heart disease, bad air, crime and housing costs. But these people don't know the real reasons. And so we give you 10 causes of the stress of living in L.A.

10. Sometimes you're a dog walker going about your day on the Corralitas Red Car Trail near Elysian Park when you see an object that turns out to be something that resembles … a stomach. Then when you try to get a city agency, any city agency to do something, you enter a bureaucratic labyrinth of non-responses, and at one point you're forced to tell some city worker: “It isn't sick. It's a stomach in the middle of the trail.”

See the NSFW photo. (Seems not to be a human stomach.)

9. As Angeleno Adit Rao of L.A. band, The Throws, harumphed Wednesday on Facebook: Three trips to traffic court for one ticket will make almost any mortal consider joining the fuckin Tea Party.

8. You live at Park Norton apartments in Arlington Heights, and your entire building is infested with bed bugs.

7. You live in Venice Beach and some homeless RV dweller empties their raw sewage on to your street.

6. If you live in the Inland Empire (yes, not really L.A., but it is as far as the rest of the country is concerned), money is tight and there are no jobs, so you need to go work at Nevada brothels to pay the bills.

5. You live in Santa Monica, and the tyrants on the City Council won't let you smoke on your own damned balcony.

4. You park at a busted meter, and still pay a fine.

3. Drive without a license and get your car towed? That will be a 30-day staycation at a police impound lot for a total bill of $1214.50 for towing and storage.

2. The Dodgers are owned by Frank McCourt.

1. You're cruising the Strip in your Maybach, trying to get your sizzurp on, er, allegedly, and you get pulled over for a measly u-turn.

Leave your favorite story of fist-balled stress in the comments.

LA Weekly