Wednesday, December 26, 2007

The Columbian Devil's Breath

So my fear of Colombians has reached critical mass after watching this nine part documentary on the most feared drug in the world. According to the highly regarded words of Wikipedia, scopolamine, or the Colombian Devil's Breath,

"can be highly toxic and should be used in minute doses. As an example, in the treatment of motion sickness, the dose, gradually released from a transdermal patch, is only 0.33 milligram of scopolamine per day. An overdose can cause delirium, delusions, paralysis, stupor and death."

But a lot of drugs do this. What the documentary showed was that this drug, in it's proper and most widely used form, makes a person lose all their free will, and will go out and do whatever a person asks them and will have no recollection of doing so. Now to people who frequent my life, one would think this is an amazing drug and that me and my cronies would have tons of fun with this. Imagine me slipping this into Wiskey's freshly brewed Hot Tatty and convince him to do hysterical things (the thought of doing this to him excites me so much that I can't even think of a hilarious scenario that I can put down on paper). Hell he usually does without the use of this drug and just a few decades worth of beer, but with this one, the limit is endless.

But what the drug is used for is to steal, plunder, pillage and rape. Now, again, if you know me, I'm down for the first three (the last, not so much). Stealing, plundering and pillaging is what my ancestors did, assuming I was from Viking decent, which I often do when I'm drunk. Actually, Vikings raped, but not my ancestors. They could get it without using violence or force. Cause they were pimp Vikings. Yeaaaaa.

Anyway, the thought of this drug not only existing, but being part of history scares me too. In the 60's, they used it as a sort of truth syrum to beat the communism out of people, but the problem is that it served as a hallucinogenic and actually caused more harm than it did good because, since the people administering the drug didn't really think of it as a hallucinogenic, they took every word as truth, therefore creating more of scare. Fucking communists.

But I am veering from the what I was trying to accomplish with this post. It is my extreme fear of Colombians. Not only are the males of this obviously dominant race cause fear in me cause they can so whimsically cause you to think you are their friend and then, in a cocaine induce rage, beat you to death with the blunt side of their rifle, but the women are so out of this world beautiful, the mere shake of the bottom half of their torso can act as a drug, making you drool all abouts your most likely sweaty shirt. And they are damn good temptresses too. They can make a 400 pound racist tantalised and will allow him to think he has a great shot of making sweet sweet love with her. Which he does not.

My conclusion: They don't fucking need this drug, yet the have the most of it in the world. Maybe they know this. Maybe that is why I'm just finding out about it and it's not running wild in the US and Germany. Maybe they have full knowledge of what it can do and they just use it on people who are out of line. Or maybe it is just unethical because it's the easy man's way out, a welfare of tantalization if I may.

I'm not really sure, and I think more research needs to be taken into account. But I looked this stuff on two websites, more than I ever have for any paper I've written in college. So I am done.

And so with this, I amend my previous post about the top five things I am afraid of, and the list now goes like this:

5. Pooing My Pants In Public
4. Drowning
3. Receiving Butt Sex/Giving BJ's
2. Colombians
1. Face Paint

Yes, I have changed a few of them around, but with further review, this is the right order.

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Tis' That Time Of Year

No, I'm not talking about Christmas, I'm talking about the time of year where I take a week off or so, unwind, get real comfortable and then get real REAL sick. When I was in school, this always happened on a break of sorts. Though I have no medical training what so ever, I've always reasoned it out to be this: the weeks before the break, I always ran myself into the ground with midterms or finals combined with tons of boozing. Combine that with my refusal to properly cover my feet during the winter months with constant sandal wearing, you would think I would get sick, but sooner. I then realized that once the dust settles and I am able to relax, that is when I get sick. Therefore, my germs are smart as balls. They know that if they attack when I am in full swing, they will have little chance to do the most damage. It is like waiting for an opposing army to finish a really long battle where they think they have defeated a strong and formidable enemy, only to find out when they sit down to rest and reflect that an even bigger evil still lurks about. So the germs wait. They wait till my white blood cells think they are out of the worst and they most likely reproduce like wild flowers. Then, when I lay down for a week of laying on the couch and watch nothing but Law & Order and various white trash shows, they attack, dead on.

This year they decided D-Day would be Christmas.

It first started at 1 AM when I woke up and couldn't really swallow due to my throat pounding and burning. I knew from here on it would be a doosey of a day. I searched frantically for some NyQuil hoping that my brother's fiance didn't take the last one due to her not feeling well the same day. Luckily I found one last dose ready and willing to do combat with my intruders. They did not know what they were getting themselves into.

When I awoke later that morning, a morning where I'll usually run around like a puppy, not knowing what to do with all the new toys and gifts that fill my living room, I wandered downstairs, blanket over my head like a child acting like a ghost with a bed sheet, sat down in front of the tree with the rest of my family and did not talk for about two hours. I couldn't. The germs had taken control of the head and neck and were on their way to the lungs. A resistance was holding them back just enough for me to send re-enforcements: Irish Tea.

I'm pretty sure the reason the Irish live so long while being jolly little alchies is because of the wonders Barry's Tea will do to your body. I am still sick, but within an hour after drinking one simple glass, I was able to eat breakfast with much ease as opposed to trying to force down every morsel of food without groaning in agony. But I knew I wasn't out of the woods yet. In my earlier years, I would have taken this as a sign that I have won the war, but this was only a small victory. I knew there was still more fight in the enemy, thus leading to more bed.

Five hours. I haven't taken a five hour nap since college and that was after a 26 hour study/booze session. When I woke up this time, I did not feel any more refreshed, though I woke up in the same health state that I fell asleep in, which is actually a good thing. Usually when I'm sick and fall asleep, my immune system does the same, and when I wake up I'll usually feel 5 times worse than I did.

As of now, I'm still feeling like I did when I woke up. I'm sore all over, can't decide if my head wants to stay congested or not, and have a slight tickle in the back of my throat that randomly hurts like hell just about ever hour. My only hope is that thing will pass before I go back to Staten Island for more exciting tales from the Sports Information Office.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

5 Things I'm Deathly Afraid Of

So as per a conversation I was having with Ian J right after a great calming nap that probably rivals the one that Judas had before he turned Jesus over to Pilot, I decided to post the top 5 things I am deathly afraid of.

5. Receiving Butt Sex and giving Blow Jobs.

The one reason I made the life decision to stay away heroin or cocaine is so I can stay away from these two things. It's also why I'm trying to be a model citizen. Due to my pasty skin, my rolly jolly contortion of my body and my lack of any fighting skills past the skills those of a sixth grader, I'm definitely getting raped in prison. This is an experience I think will silence me forever. I'm generally a goofy guy who makes jokes on people and myself. If this were to happen, I definitely would probably become a mime. Plus, if I were ever forced to give a bj in prison, I'm most likely dead because I'm definitely puking or passing out right away, which will probably lead to getting shanked in the ear (by a knife, hopefully only a knife).

These are also the reasons I'm not gay. That and I think kissing a dude would make me puke and I love ever so much, the boobies. Female boobs are too cool to pass up.

4. Drowning.

I think this would be the worst way to die. I get in such a frantic panic if my comforter is over my head when I wake up and I can't breathe normally. I also can only hold my breathe for maybe 30 seconds. But I love booze and boats and floating. So the possibility of this happening to me haunts me in my nightmares. If I ever imagine of dieing while peacefully sleeping, it's usually from drinking in my pool of my exotic mansion with tons of bitties sleeping pool-side while I fall off my flotation device in a drunken stupor and never surface alive again. That, or I'm shot by my cousin, which I can't really figure out why that dream comes up every once in awhile, but it does.

3. The near Apocalypse

Given all the scare tactics that both hippies and conservative alike are giving to the world added with the events of the Terminator series kind of unfolding upon us and we're doing nothing about it added to the fact that record executives are still allowing Nickleback to record music and promote their albums, I kind of fear that the apocalypse for the human race is upon us during my life time...which sucks. Humans have been around for how long now? And it's gonna happen when I'm around? That sucks. And some might try to ease me by saying I've had it better than people in the 700 AD due to technology, but when a. that technology is going to kill me one day (again, ala Terminator) or b. I can't afford any of the goodies. Sure I have running water and a toilet in the house, but I love to poo in the woods. It's somewhat funny to me (and disturbing to others) when I'm hiking and I have to poo (I don't go running for the closest forrest whenever I have to go). But I just think it's unfair, whether it's a flash flood from the melting ice caps or a giant meteor crashing into Georgia or even a cybernetic robot slicing and dicing me, for this to happen when I'm alive. Let it happen to my kids when I'm long gone.

2. Pooing my pants in public

Yea, this would be terrible. Especially if it's at a bar and I'm totally getting it down with a hot chick. And if anyone knows me, there are times where I only have about a 5 minute warning to get the hell to a bathroom and let it fly. I don't know why this is and it is most likely a problem I should get checked out, but sometimes I only know minutes in advance that I gotta go. My biggest fear isn't even the cleanliness of it. It's the fact that these type of things are stuff that people never let go. Hook up with an ugly chick, yea sometimes thats forgettable stuff and if it isn't, at least you can laugh at it with them. If you can laugh at pooing yourself at your 20 year college reunion, the time when you are trying to convince that one girl from your American History class that you never got with and really really wanted to that you really are wealthy and that the Ford Focus you pulled up in was only a rental cause you crashed your Ferrari the other day and they got the rentals switched up with some Earth saving hippie, then you indeed have problems.

1. Face paint.

Yea. I said it. Face paint scares the figgity fuck out of me. When it's on your face, it just kinda makes your face all stiff and smelly that it just makes me want to vomit. Add that to the fact that if you make a ton of facial features throughout the course of the night wearing face paint, it cracks and flakes all about, which again, makes me want to spew. Thats all I really have to say about this one. It scares me to death.

Honorable Mention: Wind.

In between posting this, I was quietly reading my Rolling Stone in the bathroom and the wind was doing a number to my house, blowing abouts on the roof and making loud noises. Why must wind bully people so relentlessly. I think the thing that scares me about wind is that it's so sneaky, especially when there aren't any leaves or anything around to show it's presence. Leaves to wind is like powdered sugar to the invisible man. But the reason this didn't make the list is because of the hilarity wind brings me when I'm ready for it. Have you ever seen a short person knocked over by wind? I'm talking totally nocked off their feet screaming with their hair blowing all around. I sure have. And it was increadi-fucking-ble.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Few Things

I've had a somewhat spark of creativity lately, so I decided after a few posts tonight, I'll do one of my "few things" posts:

Toke Up, But Not On My TV Time:

So while watching TV today, like I do everyday, I stumbled upon an anti-marijuana commercial where they depicted the guy on weed as depressed and looking like he was going to die of a combination of herpes and aids combined into some sort of whirlwind of an STD that he smoked and is now in his lungs. Have these people ever seen someone on the ganga? My personal experiences are that they are the funniest mo-fo's in the world. They may sit around looking buzzed out of their mind, but I bet these people have never tried hitting the hookah and definitely don't know the feeling one gets when they roll up a fatty and chill back to some Cheech and a lil' Chong. Maybe if they want to scare people about people on weed, they should show someone running around making people laugh, step back into the street and get struck by a car. That might raise some eye-brows (or make a bunch of pot heads watching tv crack up). Or maybe do a commercial about all the other wonders you can buy with the money they spend on weed. That could possibly make a dent. Weed is a drug, but it's not heroin. Stop wasting my tv time anti-hippies of the world. Which leads me to my next topic...

Sorry Johnny, You're Disease Isnt' Worth It:

The more I read the newspaper and watch the seedy tactics by defense attorneyon Law & Order the more I realize that this society is giving every problem someone has a disease. Oh, you got problems concentrating and procrastinating? You have ADD. Here are some extra things to help you conquer this and give you an advantage over normal people. This hatred comes out of the countless hours I've proctored exams during this finals week for people with "learning disabilities." These taint cases get to use everything from an extra hour and a half to even some getting to use computers for their final exams. And if anyone knows how I write, I could have possibly achieved a .3 GPA average higher if I had spell check. I really don't understand what these people's problems are that they have a "learning disability." If anything, if one person gets to use a computer, everyone should. I just can't seem to support certain things like this, including charity causes that don't really raise a single dime for anything. What the hell is the point? You're just wasting your time just like NHL.

John and Joan Cusack:
Stop it.

Magic Pants:

I have magic pants. I have been missing my glasses for possibly upwards of 6 weeks and I pretty much need them when I'm reading, writing, or coloring. I have blamed countless spelling errors and mistakes in publications I've done in that time that its starting to get less believable than trying to take Queen Latifa seriously as an actress. But when I put on my rarely worn pants due to the many holes in them for work today, I discovered my glasses nestled in the cargo pocket of my right pant leg. The thing is even though I rarely wear these pants, I always end up getting something on them whenever I do, so they have been washed at least twice since my missing glasses report was filed. They came out without a scratch on them (or new scratch). I think I can actually see better out of them now than before.

Do you read me:

I haven't figure out how to put a subscribe thing on here, though my sister tried explaining it to me. So if you read this, post on the comments section of this post and say who you are. If you do it anonymously because you don't have a gmail account, just put your name down so I know who you are. I kind of want to know who I'm writing to so I don't (or most likely purposely) offend. That and I'm generally a curious guy.


Today I was supposed to get home from proctoring an exam around the 9PM hour, but due to a grace of god and the kid not knowing what the fuck he was doing, I was out at a brisk 6:30 PM. So what does a red headed guy with free time do? Sleep of course. I napped the shit out of my couch, but for only a half hour. When I awoke, I had one of those comatose feelings you get when you wake up from a largely Nyquil induced slumber. But I'm fully healthy and do not need the quil to aid my sleep, so in the confusion of waking up this way and not having the will or energy to reach the remote while MTV's Made was on, I had a thought: what the hell am I going to watch if the writers strike keeps going like it's expected to.

If you have not noticed, Reality TV is everywhere. And if you have, I hope everyone notices that even Reality TV has writers....because it's not real. But it seems these writers have no morals, most likely because they can't write anything quality enough past a weekend home-remodeling show shown on the CW. These are the Euro-Football writers of the world. We all know they exist, but we'd rather not acknowledge it.

Rather than going on a huge rant about how much I hate Reality TV, I thought I'd keep things on the positive. It is obvious that the writers strike is going to go on for a mega long time, and I reel for them. If I was asked to increase my productivity by 50% while someone made millions, if not billions on my work and I was in the position to do something about it, then I would definitely gather my other talented and humorous friends to get things straight. Plus, my sister said somehow this will help her in the long run, even though she writes for magazines and has a travel guide coming out. Not sure where her logic on this one lies, but I'll trust her. She's 90% smarter than me, though I'm 123.3 more funny than her.

But say this strike goes on for a year. That means all TV shows will completely cease to showing new episodes and by then all movie scripts written before the strike will be made and all that will be left is buddy comedies featuring Carrot Top and Chris Tucker. So instead of fighting the inevitable, like my friend Ian J. wrote about in the previous guest post, I've decided to embrace it by suggesting one thing:

Make reality tv real, but with humorous twists.

Case in point: while watching made, I realized that everyone on this show is either a nerd trying to become popular or a fat girl trying to become a cheerleader. OK, I guess that's entertaining to those in Utah, but why not use shows like that for some good, both for those watching and those participating. How bout doing a Made show for bums. Or illegal immigrants. "I want to be made....into a citizen."

That shit is something everyone can back. If you're not familiar with the MTV show, someone gets this made "coach" that helps them break all these barriers and ya-da-ya-da-ya-da they end up making it in the end because MTV pays the people to put them on the team. But in the REAL versions, why not try to have that Hobo try to get made into a working American. Give him a coach, teach him hygiene, send him out on embarrassing assignments where he knows people will make fun of him, say, make him serve his friends at the soup kitchen so he knows what real work is, not working someones knob for coke. Then, in the grand finally of the show, right where you think the guy has made it, you send him back on his merry way to where he came from, letting him see that he may be able to succeed with the help of people with money, but show him in reality, he's a bum, and he's not going to get anywhere.

That is funny to me. I know some of you (well, not really, since I think it's just Wiskey and Jen reading this) think this is a horrible idea. But at least it gets a hobo some food, money, and hot meals for about 2 months. And you can do this in a number of other styles and drag it out like they do with all other reality shows. Mix and match shows for humorous reasons. Oh hey Britney Spears, you can't shake the crazy? Well here, lets drop her in Oakland with no money and a TV crew and see how she gets her fix. That is funny. Have a celebrity that needs to be knocked down a peg? Make a Reality TV show for it. Can you imagine the potential of putting Justin Long in Camden, NJ? He'll be begging for PC to come save his ass after two days.

So people, stop fighting the good fight, and start taking on what will happen by petitioning for reality tv that will make you laugh and make you cry (from laughing). It will be the only thing that can save us all.

Guest Spot

The following is a guest blog apearance by probably one of the two people who actually read this, Ian J.

Last night I opened my AOL homepage and noticed a little article about global warming. Now like most intelligent people I always assumed that Al Gore was just some nut bag, and that global warming (much like the famed sasquatch of the Pacific North West) was just an urban legend parents told their kids to prevent them from using up all their precious hair spray and running the air condition too high in the summer. According to the article however, global warming may be happening at a rate fast enough to melt all polar ice by the summer of 2012 (much, much worse than even the worst case scenarios developed by computers). On top of all this, today I was reading a little article on ESPN which for some reason got into Eta Carinae
. This is a massive star which as the article mentions, and wikipedia confirms, has the potential to turn supernova and blast the planet with a sterilizing wave of radiation anywhere between the next few years and a million years from now (sweet estimate), With this in mind, I thought I'd cook up a quick top five "to-do" list to prepare for the pending apocalypse. Since the supernova occurrence would pretty much be game over no matter what I'll focus on what to do in preparation for the ice melt...

Step 1: Dont go to the gym.

This may sound counter intuitive to some over eager types, and you might think an event like the ice caps melting and the planet flooding would require a lot of physical strength, but in fact its quite the opposite. Fat stored on the body will be important for both keeping warm and surviving long foodless droughts. Those who are slender and fit will surely be the first to perish. Keep this in mind before joining a gym and/or urging others to do so.

Step 2: Arm yourself.

It is likely that once the planet floods people in costal areas are going to have to seek refuge in the middle area of the country. DO NOT TAKE THIS LIGHTLY! Along with costal people moving from the edges of the country we are going to have to start worrying about big feet (plural of big foot). These monsters are going to be angry and aggressive. Driven from their homes in the Pacific North West these once reclusive giants will take on a new blood lust. Competition for food and bitter resentment towards our culture is going to cause conflict... so be prepared.

Step 3: Buy a sonar jamming device.

With water dominating the planet more so than ever it will likely become the age of the dolphin. Already known as dangerous pack hunters and considered the bullies of the ocean, look for these highly intelligent mammals to take over and begin wreaking havoc. Their society will grow to epic proportions if they aren't stopped. The solution? Put an end to their sonar locating pings with a sonar jamming device of your very own, and while they're disoriented kick them in their blow holes. Scientists have proven that this is the most effective way to show a dolphin who's boss.

Step 4: Stock up on lots of mints.

Minty fresh breath is important when meeting new people, remember you only get to make a first impression once.

Step 5: Learn how to Salsa Dance.

If your like me, and I assume everyone is, the one thing you've always wanted to know how to do is salsa dance. Well the time table has been laid out and there's only about five years left to learn how to get it done. You think there's gonna be time to learn when your competing with terrifying packs of ravenous dolphi and blood thirsty big feet for food?!?! Well there's not going to be. So stop putting off classes and saying you'll get around to it and register already.

Best of luck in the future,

Ian J.

Sunday, December 2, 2007

3 1/2 Posts

The three posts below are real fabrications from my mind at 3 in the morning while working my last night, possibly ever, at the front desk of an extremely gay dorm (30% of the students on campus are males, 50% of them are gay. And stereotypical gay, which is a lifestyle I don’t agree with. Not the fudge packing aspect of the situation, well, I don’t agree with that either if it involves me personally or even having to hear anything near of it. But just how they act in general that they think they are better than everyone and live and die to the viewing schedule of the Hills. Fuck off stereo-gays. And yes, I will definitely rant against that. And yes, I have a few gay friends I enjoy being around, both male and female. But, I don’t like these ones who think they are the next queer eye guys. Woof). Anyhoo, instead of doing one big post, I decided to do separate ones with appropriate titles. What the logic behind this is, I have no idea. But I’m extremely annoyed with these theatre tards and have four more hours on the clock at an utter useless waste of time since I do nothing at the current dorm I am working in. And it’s snowing. And I’m wearing sandals. Yay.

(Editor’s Note: It is now 2 hours after I wrote all these little jiblits and the more I read, the more vulgar I realized I got. So if you don’t like the potty mouth – the two of you out there who may stumble upon this – then you should probably turn around and go back home.)

I Don't Trust That Blue Dude

Watching the news is scary, kids. I was really bored after taking an orgasmic nap (read couldn’t find the remote and had too many crumbs on my stomach than I think my carpet could handle) so I decided I’d watch the news for some reason. What did I realize you might be asking yourself? Well the world is a scary fucked up place. Recalls here and warnings there. I’m pretty sure one newscaster told me to not use a ballpoint pen because it may give me cancer. Why the fuck would I want to know that? And the problem is most of the time, crazy crack pots believe every single thing they report verbatim. Well you know what? Fuck off. If I jiggle myself three times when taking a pee means I am playing with myself, well guess what, play-ball. I don’t want pee on my pants. If something that I thoroughly enjoy on a daily basis has a 1% of giving me cancer by the time I’m 78, then bring on the cancer. I’ll be surprised if live past 50 anyway with my eating habits. But again, if eating hot dogs everyday makes me die a few days shorter, then I’ll eat the hot dogs. I enjoy them more than lesbians at times.

I guess what it all comes down to is I’m a bit worried what our world is coming to. I’m not talking about the guaranteed apocalypse that will come if Rudolph Juliani is ever voted President since him saying 9/11 over and over again is getting old so I’m assuming he will start a war with anyone who wants to pick a fight so he can say he was governing something during an attack on America. I live in New York now and I think the guy is a major prick. And I think he did a terrible job with 9/11. It’s like saying a rat did a great job with preventing the spread of AIDS throughout my organs while I was slamming that drug infested hooker while it idly watched me throughout my 2.7 minutes of glory. No, it’s called dumb luck.

One of the stories on this news program was about how many retail stores don’t use a good fire-wire on their wireless internet servers and how easy Joe Blow nimrods can break into their systems, steal everyone’s credit cards and go on the biggest porn buying rampage on any innocent by standard’s buck. Then, because I was extremely bored with the story, my mind started straying on to such things about Terminator 2 and how I’m pretty sure the machines will eventually take over soon due to the fact on how stupid we can be sometimes. They are making so many things automatic these days that I’m pretty sure next week they are going to have a computer program that can predict my thoughts. Hell, I’m typing this in word right now and the program is automatically saving my shit incase I fuck something up.

Computers are pretty errorless. It’s the human factor that causes the problems. Why does a computer fail most of the time? It’s not cause of IBM chip in my data processor, it’s because I downloaded too much monkey porn on it. But how long will it be till we start giving computer programs the will and know how to stop us from downloading the monkey porn that is the Herpes of its kind?

I’m not really paranoid. Just bored and tired and annoyed at these fucking douche theatre fucks who keep hitting the same two notes on this piano in the dorm I’m working in right now. Which leads me to my next topic of choice.

NY Hillbillies

So I almost punched a girl the other day. Yea, I’ve never actually caused painful, non-verbal pain to a girl since fourth grade when I tried telling this fifth grader I liked her by throwing rocks at her. And yes, I have punched my sisters before, but they aren’t girls. Girls are people you want to bang, and if Danny Divito has taught me anything, it’s that banging your sister is wrong. Even Ugos are bangable with the right mixture of alcohol, sedatives and money offers from friends who have too much money and are bored, so that makes them girls too, contrary to my one friend’s belief.

But this cock-gobbler I had to deal with had a good fist full of Mike coming her way. Her name is Linda and she is the sole reason I may be going to prison for murder at the end of one of these soon coming months. Each month, each GA gets their extremely small paycheck and then gets screwed out the ass in taxes for benefits I’ll probably never see. Because of this small, lump sum of cash, it forces us to do other random shit to sustain our drinking habit. This includes me working over night tonight after being up by 7 AM to proctor the LSAT exams. But this bitch is the head human resources department, and she’s fucked my check up every single month.

In August, I gang-raped a bunch of over night sessions in the dorms before my new boss, who is a complete abomination of a human being, came to us from his high and mighty previous job that he “left” (read got the fuck fired). I did all these overnights because I knew that when this time rolled around, the Holiday Season, I would be ultra strapped for cash. So back in those hazy August days, I was never paid. Two nights to be exact. That will total $128, or roughly 3,122.26 Rubel. This is also close to half my normal pay.

So month after month, I would have to trudge my way up to the Human Resources Department and ask why, yet again, I was never paid for those two nights working. Each and every time, I was somewhat polite. People make mistakes. I make them all the time. You should see the typos that fall through my cracks. But I’m learning and am not a professional yet (or at least don’t act like I am). This walking disease has been doing this for over 20 years. And it hasn’t just been my check that has been fucked up. It’s been tons of people’s. So my question is if someone is terrible at their job on a long enough basis, when the hell are they gonna get canned? I also put it into perspective that if put this money into my savings account, I could have earned some extra cash, though not enough to even buy me a beer, but still. It’s extra cash I may most definitely waste some day. But, of course, I can’t charge this whammy for interest.

In the end, I think I just comes down to the fact that I hate anyone born in Staten Island. They never leave and I’m pretty sure are inbred. Why the fuck this is a borough of New York City, which is supposed to be the greatest city in the world but is really only presenting itself to me as a bigger tease than that extremely amazing girl that licked her lips when asking me for a favor, then didn’t even give me a second look when I gave her a pen and was on one knee ready for her to accept my proposal. Fucking Stat Rats.

Ugg Boots = Dirty Snatch

Why are hot girls who are bitches well…..bitches? It immediately brings down their hotness, to the point where I wouldn’t want to saddle up with them if given the chance. There have been three occasions since I’ve been here where a totally slammin bittie introduced herself to me and seemed amazing and then in the course of, on one occasion, 10 minutes, became uglier than an 87 year old crack addict; man or woman. I’m pretty sure they will look the same.

But seriously, what is their problem. At least Ugo’s with a tude have a reason…because they are ugly. But even ugly girls know how to play to whatever advantage they may have by having awesome personalities. That, and a few shots, is what makes them do-able without ridicule later. The difference with them and these annoying hotties is that with more alcoholic drinks, ugos become prettier. The opposite happens with the slam jobs. The more they drink, the more you really want to just kick them in the sausage wallet. There was this one in the exam I proctored who totally ruined the day for me. I mean she was the last to walk in and the one with the most problems ever, even blaming me for a broken pencil. Everyone else was totally cool, swapping stories with me about their drunken tirades throughout their undergrad years. This girl was a total cunt. And I don’t like using that word. It is and seems extremely harsh. But this girl was a cunt. She was complaining that I didn’t have a pencil sharpener, when they are asked to bring one. And went on and on about it. So yea, I almost punched a second girl in the last week.
If you don’t believe me about this, think about this: when you or a friend you know hooks up with a totally hot girl that has a great personality, what is usually the second thing he/you say after spending a quasi-mystical night with her? “yea, and she’s really cool too”, as if to say, yea, hot girls are normally a bitch, but this one is not only got bombs, but she is great on the inside too. This brings forth the notion that most hot girls are bitches, most likely due to the fact that people will give you their pen with a simple lick of the lips, and other things with more provocative acts. That’s ok though. These are the type of people who die with a sagged out vag when they are 80 and poor. Well, most of the time. Or you end up cracked out like Britney Spears with an awkward hymen.

Friday, November 30, 2007

How To Fight A Ninja

I'm bringing up how to fight a ninja today because there is a guy who has been going around our apartment complex dressed like a ninja, armed with num-chucks robbing places. Originally, he would just take stuff and not start any combat with the unfortunate people who cross his path. But now he's taking action against them, numing them with his chucks and hurting them pretty bad. Now the neighborhood I currently reside in is not a very wealthy one. One could say most of the people, if not all of them, are pretty damn poor. Example: below me lives an old Vietnam vet named Bruce who claims he's finishing his masters in Arizona while his son is an important stock broker in New York. In reality, it's just some poor guy who's son occasionally lives with him who, I've put together, may or may not sell boxes of staples out of his trunk. Living with Bruce is El, a crazy animal activist who tried pawning off a stray dog that smelled like ball of old baby food mashed up with Uncle Kenny's gym socks. And I don't even have an Uncle Kenny. Regardless, me and my roommate are pretty sure she runs some sort of drug trade out of her apartment because there will randomly be huge SUV's stopped outside of our place, some big black dude (he doesn't have to be black, they just usually are) stops in the house for about a minute, then is on his merry way. Times these two odd balls by a few hundred, and you have the complex we live in.

Back to the ninja. The ninja has been terrorizing our heavenly apartment complex for quite some time now, possibly around August. He has not hit anyone's apartment that I know, which leads me to believe that he will soon. This also makes me think it may be us who is next. So the question arises: how do you fight a ninja when you are a red headed non-irish shapey student who has no experience in hand to hand combat and bad vision. My first thought was a gun, but I don't have one, they are expensive and even more dangerous than anyone else with a gun due to the amount of alcohol that is consumed in my apartment and the stupid ideas we come up on when we are on said alcohol. But it is a good option for someone who is actually responsible, because if this guy was really good, he would be spreading his ninja spirit through somewhere like Park Ave, not Grymes Hill.

Then I started to think about the mentality of a ninja in Staten Island. I started to wonder if fighting a ninja is like fighting a bear on the Appalachian trail. I've been reading "A Walk In The Woods" by Bill Bryson who humorously comments that an expert says to run at the bear and make lots of loud noises to scare it away. Though later the expert comments that these actions may provoke the bear and does lead to unnecessary attacks. I somewhat believe the same goes for ninja's. I'm pretty sure that if I spot him in my apartment, I can just yell out a really weird comment that personally degrades him, which will stun him for a second so that I can kick him in the balls, taint, or head. But again, I believe this may just provoke him and he will then send a whirl-wind of num-chucks at my head.

So where does that leave me? Really no where. I have my bat under my bed in case anyone comes in uninvited, ninja or not. I also have my roommate, a black man who is friendly to close ones, but can kick the shit out of any foes. Besides that, I don't think there really is much more I can do unless I go all crazy and believe he's around every corner and set up so many boobie traps that I'll eventually succumb to my own death because I'll forget one of them. Either way, I hate Stat Rats.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

Rap vs. Hippies

The color of my hair doesn't represent the musical tastes one would think I stick too. Hell, most of the music I listen to would lead you to thinking that all I listen to is neo-hippie-esque tunes. Back in the day (am I even old enough to say that?) I used to detest rap. I thought all it was was a bunch of untalented people getting on a mic and spitting out rhymes that not only had no meanings, but really had no point to them at all. I'm talking about the Lil' Jon's and their Get Low, the Sir-Mix-Alot's and their Baby Got Backs and House of Pain was teaching us to just Jump Around. Run DMC not only ruined on of my favorite songs from my favorite artists, but Aerosmith helped them out. Hell, Marshal Mathers was just sitting up there telling us his name was who? Rap, to me, was just a desecration on the music industry. They stole beats from great songs and basically butchered the entire masterpiece. These songs contrasted with the ones I was raised on and grew to love. I enthralled myself with songs with meaning and the artists had respect for what they put onto the paper. I'm talking Simon & Garfunkel, Pink Floyd, The Beatles, Led Zeppelin to today's artists like DMB, Phish, Pearl Jam, and Jack Johnson.

But as I've grown as a person, my musical musings have also grown (though I still think country can take a big dirt nap). I also notice that my niativy from before has sparked new light onto the people I once praised. So here is a top 6 list for the ages (I tried top 10, but I’m a bit tired right now), of not only rap songs I love (and have true meaning) but are contrasted with artists I defended to the end about their musical importance in the world, and the songs they have written that just do not make sense.

6. The Fugees - Fu-Gee-La
Wyclef Jean starts this off with vocals that not only make you nod your head, but listen to the words brings to the table. The Fugees alone are one of the, if not, best rap groups that has ever approached a stage. Lauren Hill's sweet voice reigns over the chorus, but she makes sure she doesn't seem like the little girl in the background and she puts her own raps onto the table that keep you going. This song is not the normal song people think about when they hear the Fugees, but it's one of my favorite.

Line of the Song:
Just because your buff, don't play tuff
Cause I'll reverse the earth and turn your flesh back to dust.

6. Dave Matthews Band - Hunger For The Great Light
DMB used to be my favorite band of all time. They still kind of are, though I hold other current bands at the same level of them. Dave, himself, used to be a lyrical master. Even on the subject of naughty sex and love, he has pulled out some amazing songs including Crash Into Me, Say Goodbye and Rapunzel. These songs subtly and poetically play around with the subject of love, lust, and sex. Hunger's lyrics are one step around from "I want to put my penis your vagina and thrust in and out till I'm done." It not only lacks the great lyrics, but musically it is terrible. Carter Beauford sits in the pocket the entire time, Leroi Moore's saxophone is in the background and Boyd Tinsley's violin is nowhere to be seen. Nope, this song is one DMB fans like to forget about many times over.

Line of the Song:
I wanna be your HUNGRY
I wanna see you open wide
And when I go down for you
I wanna blow your mind

5. Talib Kweli - Get By
Backed with Nina Simone classic Sinnerman, Kweli not only puts clever rhymes to amazing music, but does it without sugar coating the lyrics. This song not only keeps my foot bouncing with the bass drum, but enthralls my mind in all the lyrics to the point where when my mind can't keep up, I just look them up on google and read them as if I were reading a new Frost or Whitman. Now, I'm not compairing Kweli to Walt, but his lyrics, in a way, have the same effect on me when I just read them. This is one of those songs.

Line of the Song:
Some people get breast enhancements and penis enlargers
Saturday sinners Sunday morning at the feet of the Father
They need somethin to rely on, we get high on all types of drug
When, all you really need is love

5. Eric Clapton - Cocaine
Now this song is not a Clapton original, but I had to put this song on there because 1. his version is the more popular version and 2. if this were a rap song, I would probably cast it off as "oh they are just talking about drugs and it's a terrible message," cause, well, thats what it really is. When I think of Clapton, I don't think of his lyrics, I think of his wailing solo's. Layla is one of the musical masterpieces of the century. But this song simply is about using cocaine. No way around it.

Line of the Song:
If you wanna hang out youve got to take her out; cocaine.
If you wanna get down, down on the ground; cocaine.
She dont lie, she dont lie, she dont lie; cocaine.

4. Kanye West - Roses
This song is Kanye at his best. The song goes through the struggle about when his grandmother was sick and died. Now, I know Ye has gone slightly off his rocker in the last few months, thinking he's the greatest thing to hit people since Oxygen, but this track off Late Registration is lyrically one of the best he's ever put out. And I put Kanye on this list because he does have songs that are like the ones I used to hate, like New Workout Plan, where he basically raps about how girls need to work out and suck his dong (I will admit I love listening to that song). But the somber tone to Roses just makes you sit back and think because not only does he put his heart out on the line, but there becomes a time in your own life that you wish there was something extra you could do to save someone you love.

Line of the Song:
My mama say, they say she could pass away any day
Hey chick what these doctors know anyway?
Let me see the X-rays
I ain't no expert, I'm just hurt

4. The Beatles - Love Me Do
The Beatles are great and they are in my top 5 bands of all time. But they were kinda corny at times. This song is the first that came to mind when I was thinking of corny Beatles songs. I think it is inevitable that they push out at least one or two corny songs about love when that is basically all they wrote about before they started hitting the hash and George was over in India learning sitar. But this song is basically a repetitive song both lyrically and musically that could have been written by a fourth grade poetry class.

Line of the Song:

Love, love me do.
You know I love you,
I'll always be true,
So please, love me do.
Whoa, love me do.

3. Mos Def - Umi Says
This isn't really a rap song to me, it's much more jazz than it is rap. Mighty Mos doesn't even really rap and more sings, but Mos is very much a rapper and this song off of Black on Both Sides radiates through my ears anytime it comes on. It's one of those songs I listen to every time I got into the city by myself to walk around. I can I just look around at all the people rushing around me and it makes me slow down and just observe, realize I don't need to keep up with them and go at my own pace. I think I may be the only one to pick Umi Says as my favorite Mos Def song, though I may be wrong. I've only talked to one or two people about Mos, and they both like Rock 'N' Roll more. But that's what is great about Mos. He's got a great amount of depth in his music.

Line of the Song:
Tomorrow may never come
For and me
Life is not promised
Tomorrow may never appear
You better hold this very moment very close to you
Very close to you

3. Billy Joel – We Didn’t Start The Fire

Though this song is interpreted (by Wikipedia) as a criticism of the Baby Boomer generation, I see this as Billy bored and looking through a history text book (or, again, Wikipedia if the internet was around in 89). This song to me is just a play off REM’s It’s The End of The World As We Know It, which came out a year earlier. Everyone doesn’t know the words to it and looks confused while mumbling the verse, but drunkenly rejoice and sing your heart out when the chorus comes up. Nope, Joel could have been more creative on this one.

Line of the Song:

Einstein, James Dean, Brooklyn's got a winning team
Davy Crockett, Peter Pan, Elvis Presley, Disneyland

2. Lupe Fiasco – Daydreamin’

Listening to this song without a second listen, you would think this songs is just about trick, hoes, bitties, and titties, cocaine and smoking. But my interpretation of the songs is that he is telling a story about how many of the people around him got by through day to day life. It really turns around after he tells a girl to “put your titties closer to the 22’s” but goes on to talk about a baby sleeping and how innocent he is. One could argue against this song, but, again, it’s all how you interpret the song, and to me I see Lupe putting much more into this song that it initially gives credit to. That and it is backed by the beautiful voice of Jill Scott who gives the song it’s soothing sound.

Line of the Song:

But not too loud cause the baby's sleepin
I wonder if it knows what the world is keepin
Up both sleeves while he lay there dreamin

2.. Red Hot Chili Peppers – I Like Dirt

RHCP are not know for their great lyrics, though they do have great jems. The fact that I am putting them on this list is because 1. they have many many songs that don’t really make sense/have much meaning and 2. I listen to them a lot. Most of my playlists usually have at least one RHCP song on it. They put down many songs that just get you moving and at other times they have some of the most wonderful and reflective songs. Look at tracks like If, Wet Sand, Under The Bridge and Soul to Squeeze. But I Like Dirt is, well, weird. It has a funky beat and the lyrics are just awkward. And when you get done listening to Californication, it’s usually the song that sticks in your head while you’re walking through the hall to make copies and you spit out a “I like dirt” slip out as you pass the girl you’ve been subtly hitting on for the past few weeks and embarrass yourself. So, maybe I’m a bit biased about this song, but it’s one that I’ve always finished listening to and gone WTF?

Line of the Song:

Some come up and some come young
Live to love and give good tongue
Sit down get down in the sun
Rocket to the women is on the one
I like dirt

1. Jay-Z – Pray

I’m a Hova newbie and only have a few of his 13 albums. This one is off his latest, American Gangster, a concept album inspired by the movie of the same title and about his days as a hustler. This song, the second on the album, first if you don’t count the first song, which is an intro full of sound bites from the movie, really serves as a pump up song, even though it is smooth and rich full of violins and clever beats. It leads you up to what is Hova’s true come back to the game, unlike his album Kingdom Come, that was, well terrible. I know there are better Sean Carter songs out there to fit what I am trying to do here, but this one is the one that sticks out in my mind the most. Enjoy it.

Line of the Song:

I’m trying to beat life

Cause I can’t cheat death

1.. Pearl Jam – Lukin

Surprisingly, it took me a really long time to find a Pearl Jam song that fit this category. I was confused to how long it took me to find one namely because most of the time you can’t really tell what Eddie Vedder is saying. But once you figure out the enigma that is Vedder’s delivery, you’ll see that he and the band are great at putting down meaningful songs. This live favorite though, is, well, just weird. You can in no way tell what he is really saying and if you were drunk (which most fans are when they attend shows) there is no way you can keep up with steady Eddie on this sub two minute tune. I wish it took me that long to find the song.

Line of the Song:

Drive down the street can't find my keys to my own fucking home
I take a walk so i can curse my ass for being dumb

Monday, November 19, 2007

The 3 Reasons Why I Would Crush Alicia Keys

Besides the obvious reason that Alicia Keys is one of the most beautiful people in the music industry, I thought I'd list down the reason why if given the opportunity, I would do crazy things to Alicia Keys.

1. She brings Sexy Back - Many of today's female artists fall under what I call the skank-dar. There are the Lohans, the ever crazy Britney Spears, Gwen Stefani is just straight up nasty (and I mean in the you look like a ho every time you're on tv), Ciara caries 90% of the world's disease in her sausage wallet and Rhiani is just a straight up wham job. You name it, and they are hos. But Keys brings it back time and time again in a very sexy way kind of way. And there are very few things I find sexy in the old fashioned-true sense of the word. Saxophones are sexy. Spooning is, at times, sexy. Alicia Keys is sexy. She could probably pull off farting being sexy. Typically today, when someone wants to write about making love or, as I like to call it sometimes, "slammin bitties", they just get straight to the point and tell the listen they want to skeet all over their clothes or seomthing. But Key's lyrics are just shining poetic genius. If you need an example, listen to Wreckless Love off her new album. That song not only makes her sexy, but it brings me to my next point...

2. She's got soul. I'm not talking about the "she's got soul cause she's part black" (more on that later) but she's got both that putting everything into each performance style while still keeping true to R&B, something that is lost in this dying genre. Many of her songs bring forth memories of Marvin Gaye and Aretha Franklin. She's one of the few that still keep the genre going, along with Jill Scott.

3. She's bi-racial - Yes, for some reason that is hot to me. There is no real reason for it except that it's exotic to me. And exotic is sexy (as long as it doesn't give me AIDS). Plus, she's part Irish. That means she carries the ever important "red head" gene somewhere in her DNA. That and her father is Jamacian. So if I were ever to somehow not only score with her, but plant the seed, I would possibly have a red headed son that does not have to wear spf 90.

Thats about it. Time for Sportscenter.


Friday, November 16, 2007

Sandy Thompson

So I was thinking the other day while reading my really old issue of Rolling Stone about Hunter S. Thompson that I Thompson, but with no cocaine problem and with sand in my vagina. Thompson did extactly what I want to do, but instead of being a coked out maniac, I want to be a rediculsously rich guy who does everything that people always dream about when they are rich. My goal in life is to become rich enough where at one point I just stop, unlike the money bags that keep fighting for more and more. I want to work non-sense jobs like the lumber section of Home Depot or at a langerie store. I just want to do things for about a week or until I'm bored and then move on. Each time I'll have a different name and it'll be interesting. I'm a terrible when you put me in front of the camera, but out in the open I can be anyone you want to be. Hi, I'm Scott Bibbles from Virigina.

In the Hunter Thompson way, I would totally just do things out of the ordinary, and if they bother people to the point where they sue me, then go ahead. Again, I have tons of money. In my American History class a few years ago, our hippie professor told a story where at one point (or at all points) Thompson had a lawyer with him at all times because of the shit he did. One time on the way to a dinner with someone important he stopped at a navy shop and got a super loud air horn and in the middle of dinner, just set it off, breaking glasses and what not.

That is what I want to be. The jerk millionaire, but when people think about it in the end, I'm not that big of a jerk since all I'm doing is having some laughs as opposed to the millionares that swindle money out of people. And, for added insurance, I'll posed with soem decrepid kids and give them a sac of money so whenever someone complains about me, I shove the picture in their face.

One thing I am obssessed with doing when I'm rich is to just carry around at random times a briefcase full of money or to have a big bag of coints with a money sign on the outside. That is the kind of shit I want to do/say I've done. I want to take a bath in pudding just to see what it feels like. I want to pay two hobo's to fight, and then in the end, just give them a thousand dollars extra (and then secretly watch them waste it away on meth). The movie totally sucked and I can't believe I'm publically announcing that I've watched this, but I want to do what the guys in Rat Race did.

Anyway, today's millionaires suck.


Tuesday, November 6, 2007

Many Things

Buckle up boys and girls. This is gonna be a long one (at least I think). Here are a few topics I'd like to discuss, starting with the most exciting.

Pappa Loves Mob-o
So I saw a mob hit/deal go down...atleast I think I did. It had everything in the makings on one: really seedy italian guys with high coat collars, a dock, I definitely saw one of them have a piece, and finally the lonely stranger that got forced into a car that sped up right as he walked passed it and sped off into the night just as fast. This all happened as I was on my way back from a fun day in the City, somewhere I haven't been/remembered being to in quite a long time.

Last time I WAS in the city was for Halloween. From what I remember, which isn't much, was lot of girls with their janglies all hanging out for everyone to see, me getting yelled at for commenting on on girl's janglies (honestly, if they are out, you want people to look at them) and then apparenlty I almost got into a fight with anywhere between 2-6 lesbians, or at least thats what my roomate said. There were thousands of people in the village on Halloween and apparenlty I had my lesbo radar on and just kept running into them. Again, I don't remember said event, but roomate said it was hilarious, so I'm going to take his word.

(come to think of it, he was smashed too. And since we were in the village, we may have just assumed every girl we ran into was an angry lesbian when in reality they were just angry straight girls pissed because two lumps literally ran into them)

Same Name Johnny's
I've realized when I'm watching a show or movie, I like it when the actor's name is the name of the character that he or she is playing. Like in 30 Rock, which I have heavily gotten into in the last few weeks. Tracy Morgan's character is named Tracy. It just makes me feel that these people live the strange lives they have on the show and not some humdrum lives they probably lead involving making the earth green or saving kittens. Tracy Morgan better not be like that. Say it aint so Tracy.

Sweater Savers
One thing I've noticed as winter is upon us is that the cold season is the time for members of the itty-bitty-titty-committee to shine. In the summer, regardless of face and sometimes body type, girls with the big boobies get much of the attention. But in the winter a sweater covers up much. But this is the time for our small boobed friends to shine. Plus winter wear is sexy in a way. I'm not talking about parkas being the new turn on, but I'm saying you don't need to be in a skimpy bikini to look really really nice (but, again, bikini's have the edge).

Also, girls in baseball hats are probably the hottest thing in the world. And that's all I will say on that.

So apparenlty this isn't a long one. I ran out of ideas I was going to talk about. So until I remember/Wiskey reminds me, this is it. Not funny and probably more anoying to read, but I'm pretty tired and I'm about to try to see American Gangster for the 2nd time. The first time the movie cut out half way and they never restarted it. Man I hate Stat Rats.


Saturday, October 20, 2007

Just A Few Thoughts

Just A Few Thoughts:

The word ACCESS. What is the deal with you word? You think you can get away with using the letter C in the hard and soft tense while being placed in duplicate in one word? You've got to be kidding me. The letter C pisses me off in general. It's like a pop artist that was brought in just because they could be "marketed." Figure out what you want to sound like already and stop stealing from K and S. Sure you are before them, Carlos Mencia, but just because you are trying to Indian Give the shit out of stuff doesn't make you popular.

I think breaking up with someone that you really have no problems with and are generally not ready for is worse than being dumped. When I think about it, my recent break-up is because of how little time I have for a relationship and not because I "accidentally-banged-a-latino-transvestite-when-all-my-roomates-swore-it-was-you-so-now-I-might-have-AIDS-and-need-t0-break-up-with-you," reason. Reasons like that I can fess up to and realize, "you know what reds, you fucked up and it was your fault." Or break-ups where the girl is a total freak and can't keep her craziness in. Dumping girls like that is like picking between blue berry pancakes and blue berry pop tarts. It's a no brainer. But the ones that are totally no one's fault, the ones that only happened due to bad timing, the ones that end with you finally getting through that stage and ready to settle back down only to find the ex not only more satisfied in life with a new man (who can satisfy her in more ways than you ever could due to a better sense of humor and an extra inch or three) is terrifying. I'm going through that right now and the only real regiment is to work more to justify the move and to eat tons of blueberry pancakes, just because we've already established the glory a BBC can bring a person.

I am sober (no really, I am)

Friday, October 19, 2007

The George McFly Syndrome

A quick one:

If you know someone who always demands WAY more than he/she deserves and has no right to ask for anything near he/she is asking for, I suggest calling it the George McFly syndrome. For those who don't know, the actor that played George McFly in Back to the Future asked for twice as much money and goods to do BTTF II and III and that is why they killed him off in the second one.

I already know a few people I will be using the term on.


The Ultimate Fight

So I took my first mid-afternoon nap for the first time in five weeks and it was everything I thought it'd be. It wasn't the best nap, but I'd place it right between being able to take a warm bath of blueberry syrup with pancakes on hand for dipping and being able to using the Assault course from American Gladiators for shits and giggles (those things may not seem good to you, possibly even weird and disgusting, but then again, I have red hair).

Because of this bliss-filled treat, I am now still wide awake at 3 AM. Since we finally figured out how to hook up our DVD player, I figured I'd pop in a movie. Two movies I've been craving to watch have been two of my all time favorites: Fight Club and American History X. Now while taking my post nap poo (which was also enjoyable) I got to pondering. If they were real life people, who could fuck the other's day up more, Tyler Durden or Derek Vinyard. Then if you think deeper into it, you are judging Edward Norton vs. Edward Norton. Now, I know Brad Pitt played Tyler Durden in the movie, but remember, we are talking about the characters here, and Edward Norton's Character IS Tyler Durden, Brad Pitt is just the figment.

This seems like a no brainer to most due to Fight Club being higher on most guys All Time list than History X. But there a few factors going in here.

1. Derek (Edward Norton in X) is just as (possibly even more ripped) than Tyler (Brad Pitt in Club). Durden was lean and cut, Derek is just straight up jacked. Point Derek.

2. What do the characters stand for? Durden is curb stomping blacks, hispanics and any other non-white race. Durden is against WASP rich folk who run corporate America and the like. No Point: Tie

3. Durden was a leader. Derek seems like one, but in the end he was really brain washed by a really old white southern guy. Point Durden.

4. Derek got ass raped in prison. Durden felt no pain. Point Durden.

5. Durden was a man's man that everyone wanted to be in a non-metrosexual way. Derek was a man's man that only a racist-fat-guy-who-plays-a-bully-in-boy-meets-world and others of the like want to follow. Game, Set Match, Durden.

Those are only 5 points I could think of, and if you (Wiskey or Jen, the only two that I think read this thing) can come up with any others, feel free to put them up. Either way, I think Durden wins, though Derek definitely should get more credit than he deserves.

Anyhoo, I'm going to hope I fall asleep soon while watching X and then I'm gonna get through work and get my drink on the companies dime tomorrow night. And then I'm going to regret using the word Anyhoo. Twice.


Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Oh, You Want A Bag Of Money? Well Here You Go Ashlee. Ride Those Coat Tails.



I was thinking today while I was in the office for the second straight 12+ hour day, sitting back in my chair thinking of my next evil plan, about how many people get by without really doing anything. To be a musician all you have to do is make cool song titles or know someone who can make you cool song titles. Take Van Morrison for instance. He's got songs like Cyprus Avenue, Astral Weeks, and an album called Avalon Sunset. Now the man is awesome, but if you actually consider who Van Morrison is and listened to his voice, you'll realize he is just a drunk Irish guy with a raspy voice making millions. Hell, give me a bottle of Jameson every night I can (attempt) to do that. Just give me a shot.

Another thing that came to mind while plotting my evil ways are how people my age are WAY more rich than me. Lebron James is only 4 months older than me. Yet he plays sports professionally, has many contracts worth millions of dollars, and has even hosted SNL. I work for sports professionally, have a contract worth 300 bucks a month and have only hosted an annual party that gets rave reviews only past the Bellmawr border, and up here, that's the "wrong" Bellmawr (fuckin' Belmar).

Eh this is just me being a bit frustrated that me working over 12 hours a day pretty much straight isn't producing some moo-lah now while others do relatively little and make tons (or for some who work around me, work relatively little and make the same as me). But, for me, it's hitting the grind stone every day, hoping to find a diamond. I'll find it. But, until then, it's Pearl Jam.


Sunday, October 14, 2007

Mistro Please

Two posts in one night after a several week absence? Strange right?

Anyway, after doing a rant over the comedy and music industry, I'd like to rave about one of my favorite things in music: when bands play with orchestras. It's the best. If those bands i talked about in the last post who charge tons of money used that extra money to tote an orchestra, I'd be slightly less angry at them and possibly praise them. Today I downloaded an Eric Clapton concert with an orchestra and just the other day I was listening to Late Orchestration, Kanye West's concert with an orchestra that is only available in England (Again, being able to download music is an amazing thing). But orchestras, when properly organized, give many songs a punch that is not needed, but it is greatly welcomed. It's like when you go out to a bar and find out that the beer you were craving is a special. Oh hey beer, you're gonna cost less tonight even though I would have payed the normal price for you anyway? Well come on over let me get you acquainted with Mr. Liver. I have to warn you, he's been cranky since 2003, but I'm sure you'll be able to hold your own. Down you go.



So after reading an article about how Larry the Cable Guy, Jeff Foxworthy and Dane Cook are two of the top money making comedians and see how much work they actually did to make those millions, I asked myself, "How much money has to be thrown at someone for them to whore themselves out?" I mean, don't get me wrong, if someone offered me a million bucks to do obnoxiously annoying commercials for TBS, I'd jump that in a second. Then again, I'm a poor grad student who works the night shift in the dorms for a mere 60 bucks. But what is their problems? Dane Cook came out as this edgy guy with funny sayings. Why in hell does he then have to do a shitty movie with Jessica Simpson? Unless unlimited blow jobs from miss Simpson or from any hot bittie for that matter was somehow snuck into his contract, there is no reason he needs to do this movie. Jerry Seinfield did it right. He left his show, which is possibly one of the best sitcoms of all time, because he felt it had run it's course and didn't want to drag it out. Did he move to movies? Nope. He's done one that I know of, that bee movie coming out. He still tours, but in small venues. So even though he's not touring HUGE venues like Cook and the others, where did he land on the top moneymakers from the last year? Number 1. Yep. He let his talent do the work. With Seinfield in syndication on pretty much every channel, he rakes in the millions just chilling in his sweat pants and hagendas ice cream. Does he press for more? Na. Not really. (What I also like about Seinfield is that he got married to a non-movie star and kept his private business private, something celebrities need to do. I'm tired of hearing about Britney's Battle against whatever the hell she is battling now. She could get cancer and I still wouldn't want to hear about it. Unless you're one of my family members or friends or even a casual acquaintance, I don't care.)

It baffles me how much money these people really need. I read a few articles over the past few months about how the music industry is doing terrible because technology allows "jerks like" me download albums for free. Technology is good for music, just not for the industry. I can now go on myspace or youtube and listen to a limitless amount of bands trying to make it big time. And you know what? A good number of these bands are good. I just discovered this band called Window ( check out their cover of Wonderwall, they make it their own in about ten different ways) who are pretty freaking rocking. But they are in Texas. And I am in Staten Island. If it weren't for this technology stealing from those who already have enough, I would never have found their sweet jams. But where does it go from the"I love playing in front of a crowd and enjoy the art of making music." mentality to the I'm charging hundreds of dollars for tickets when you know very well you don't need that extra money? I guess since I'm not even a struggling musician but just simply one who has no talent and only plays in his apartment when no one is around, that I'll never get it why most bands come to this point. And again, I am generalizing. Not all big bands do this. Pearl Jam purposely keeps ticket prices down and saves many of the best seats in the house for their fan club members and even refused to sell tickets through Ticketmaster since they didn't believe in their policies (not really sure why they use them still).

So what do I say to those who say downloading music is wrong. Well, nothing really. I'm still going to do it and I'm still going to enjoy music. Most of my downloads are from bands I would never have bought the album from anyway. If anything, it's helping their cause because now I might buy a concert ticket to their show if I like their music. That's what it's all about anyway, isn't it? Playing in front of a bunch of people who are the reason why you're able to make a living playing music? Thats my understanding of it at least.


Saturday, September 15, 2007

Big Time Doucheing

So I've worked in event management for a number of years. The Riversharks gave me an experience I will never forget (working 100 hours a week and only getting about 2 bucks an hour). I've been spat on for "not doing my job" and been furiously yelled at for "not doing something right"

What I've realized is normal people don't realize shit. And yes, I'm classifying myself as not normal and above average people. It is not because of my SAT scores or my education. It's because the more I work in athletics, the more I realize normal people are freaking stupid and weird. And this does not exclude people who have graduated from what seems like reasonable institutuions. But when you do not know what you are talking about, please, especially when I'm a few beers deep, do not come into my office and yell at me for something you have no idea about.

Let me explain.

I work in college athletics right now. Footbal is our big sport (according to our coaches) but in reality, they suck. They haven't had a winning record in years. But because they are big meat headed football players and have the biggest roster, they think they are the shit, like most losing football programs. The worst about this is not only do the players think they are big shit, but so do the coaches. So when one of the coaches (read graduate assitants) comes into my office wondering why the program isn't a certain way (read shouldn't you be wondering why you're not producing a winning team) it gets me a little fired up. I mean come on, the last of your worries is what a few people read during the game. Does it matter where you came from? Absoultely not. You are here right now. Start acting like it.

My biggest pet peeve about this whole ordeal is people who do not know what they are talking about. Don't come to me asking for more shit when it's not possible. You think I know what the budget means? Hell no. But what I do understand is that we only have a limited amount of space, and sorry, football sucks here, so go fuck yourslef under a peach tree. We are not here to suck on the teet of just football, we're more of a pimp. We're here to suck on the teet of everyone. Stop putting us in a relationship you fucks.

Anyway, what I'm really saying is if you don't know what's going on, don't say anything.

Until next time,

Sunday, September 9, 2007

Much A Do About Lots Of Things

Alright, well, there's a lot to talk about.

Old People Smell Like Play-Doh.

That's right. This is a revelation I had over the weekend. It's not something I contemplated about while eating a turkey sandwhich, it's something I experienced in person. Now I'm jumping the gun saying that all old people smell like Play-Doh. Only the weird ones do. Normal old people smell like baby powder. But it's something about these weird creepy people that are hard core football fans here that just bring out the Doh in the nostrals. I had to spend an hour and a half each way to Iona college with these goons. The only other people on the bus were the football players girlfriends, so I didn't really want to talk to them. They aren't exactly interested in talking to a sweaty "older" guy (one of them called me sir) running the fan club bus trip. I had creepy written all over me, especially sitting with the old people. But I have a girlfriend, so it all works out.

Sneaky Hotness

I've noticed in my two months here that there are a lot of girls that are sneaky hot. These are the type of girls that normally just dress in gym shorts and a t-shirt with their hair always up. But when you go out to a bar or club with them, you just have to do a triple look and air speak to your buddy "Wow, she is really hot." The thing with the sneakies is that after you notice their deception, it makes them in their normal raggy clothes even hotter for some odd reason. I think it's because when you get down to it, you know there's a knock out temptress that likes under there.

Now with the sneaky hot, you get the sneaky not. These sneakiesI do not like. These are the kind that look way hot in they gym, but thats only because they have their boobs pushed up as much as possible and are wearing make-up (again, you're in the gym). When they go out they got the ol' grand ma sag and just generally do not live up to the expectations you had. When you make yourself up in the gym, it takes away from the impact that you have when you go out, which sucks. I'm in a look, don't touch situation. Boo to you sneaky nots.

Same Name Suzies

I've noticed that all the Stat Rats around here are either named Nikki or they have a tatoo of a cross on their upper arm or their calf. Why? Thats all for this one.

Work Out Woes

Here's a tip when you're working out. Do not find it a good idea to do moderate ab exercises (moderate ab ex's for me is like short ab ex's for a person who is really in shape) or run four miles on a track after eating a number of peices of chocolate cake with chocolate doubled on top. I'm no physicist, but I realized today that running and ab workouts mean contractions on the lower abdomen. When you're full, this is not something you want to do unless you're near a bathroom, which I was not. Needless to say, I ran faster.

That's a quick re-cap/point of view for now. I got lots to do.

Until next time,

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

Under vs. Grad: The Tale of Confusion

So I've been in the graduate life for a few weeks and have noticed many differences between being a graduate vs. being an undergraduate. Here are a few of the things I've noted:

The Less Fun Factor

Some of the greatest perks of being an undergrad is to basically get out of class and grab either a frisbee or a beer and have a good time. As I walk around campus, I notice all these kids having lots of fun while I'm running around trying to get work done before I have to go to night class. By the time I come home, I'm so tired and worthless that all I do is fall right to sleep, only to wake up and get work done before another night class. Where is the fun in that? Sure I can hit up the bars and get wasted and drink my problems away, but being a grad student means I have even less money to get drunk. Which leads to my next observation

The (Non) Hook Up Factor

One of the greatest accomplishments on a college guy's list to do is hook up with amazing hot chicks out of their league and too drunk to notice. Now I'm not one to be looking for this since I'm in a great relationship, but with that kind of pressure/fun out of the picture, it makes one to worry less about appearance. Even if you're in a relationship, you want to look good so girls don't go "aww man, another hobo got onto campus. Call security." The point is to look good incase you fuck up in the current relationship you are in. I have red hair, it's bound to happen, it's happened before. If in any case she decides to not take me back, you have to think about the reputation you've put forth on the people around you. You have to think about the "just incase" factor.

Also, since I am a grad student and work with athletes, I can not even hook up with the undergrad or I could face possible termination from the program (I've heard tales of people doing it and not even that well under the radar, but again, I have red hair, it's bound to blow up in my face if it happens). If you have ever gone through the process of getting your MBA, you will know that the creme of the crop of women are long gone. There are the occasional hotties, but those are the up tight one step away from being a lesbian feminist who is doing this to show the world that women can do it too. And then the rest are ugos and girls taken way long ago (I am generalizing, there are exceptions, but for hilarity/interest sake, lets make believe there are not exceptions). This leaves any possible post I'm an idiot and got dumped hook ups very minimal in this town. And if I've learned one thing from Superbad, it's that women you meet in bars are whores. Literal whores.

The Old Man Factor

Now I am only 22, but with my hair line and my gut (that has been sized down, but still serves as a good pillow) I look like I'm, say 30. The one thing that I have to do due to my Communications undergrad degree is take an undergrad accounting class so that I can take Managerial Accounting. This puts me in a class with freshman and sophomores. I see that anytime I am asked to answer a question, people turn around to my small desk in the back of the room (where else would the old guy sit) and get whispers of "why the hell is that old guy in the room. And why is he so sweaty?" This makes me a bit uncomfortable, but I have to plow through them. Again, I'm getting my MBA for free.

Those are a few things I've generally noticed. I jotted them down just now. I'm tired and have two legs screaming at me for running 4 miles after doing nothing but eating cake and drinking for the last two weeks. So I appologize for nothing (except to my girlfriend if she is reading this. You're the best).

Until next time,

Monday, August 20, 2007

The Night Shift

Well, here it is, 8:27 AM and I'm still awake. If you haven't already heard (which I doubt you did) I started working the night shift at the dorms. All I really do is sit there and wait for an emergency to happen. I'm pretty much like a third base umpire waiting for that big play that will make or break the game. Maybe a call down to see if the batter swung or a loopy line drive down the line that may or may not grace the chalk. But, like most third base umpires, I was let down. No emergencies in the two nights I've worked. The only exciting thing out of the 14 combine hours of sitting was that about an hour before my shift this morning was over I found out I had internet. Kinda wish I knew that prior to just sitting there twiddling my thumbs.

Anyhoo, I just thought I'd post here since I haven't in about a week. I did start a post that I've been wanting to write for a while, but it's still not done. Got the draft done. But for now, this jolly ol' kid is going to go take his belly full of bacon-egg-n-begal and hit the sac.

Until next time,

Oh, by the way. I only made it to Wednesday for my no meat week. When you're going out into the city and not eating on your dime, you gotta make it count...and I did.

Saturday, August 11, 2007

The Challenge

So since I've been here, I've been working out about 3-4 times a week. Lifting, running, the usual. My pants fit somewhat better and I feel better. The one thing that is not happening is I can't see it, in the mirror or on the scale. I am still hovering around 195. My goal is to get down to my pre-college weight, a crisp 180. Now I do not want to do this where I loose the 15 pounds, say hoo-ray like most of those people on the weight loss shows and then gain it all back. I also want to gain muscle, hence why I'm lifting. So this weight loss thing is going to be a bit of a pain. But, I'm going to experiment.

I am not for vegetarians, at least the ones who go on and on about how killing innocent animals is cruel and all that mumbo jumbo. If a cheetah was not an endangered species, I'd eat the shit out of one of those things because you damn well know that he would do the same to me if I were in the wild with it. But they go on and on about how cows and chickens are so innocent. Well guess what veggies, so are the plants you are eating. When it comes down to it, both are living things, and when one person eats it, it dies. It's called the food chain, so get with it.

I love meat, but although I have a great distaste for vegetarians, I'm going to actually join them, for at least one week. I will keep my protein up with a bunch of peanut butter and other foods, but I am going to see how much weight I lose by keeping the same work out schedule. And, if I make it past one week and think I can go on, I'll try another week. The only time I will be eating meat is if I am out off campus at a party or something any other event where it would be rude of me not to eat what is served (as in the party I am going to tomorrow). I do still believe meat is good for you, but not the stuff they serve here at school. This is imitation and disgusting and I think it does not benefit me to eat everyday. I could go out and get my own meat, but I am poor (I am working 5 night shifts at the dorms just to make some extra money).

So we're going to keep track of this, one week at a time. I will keep an update anytime I find it hard to fight the urge/fall off my plan/find something funny in the gym, like me dealing with the football team who just arrived yesterday.

Until next time,

Friday, August 10, 2007

How To Get By In The Office Without Knowing Anyone's Name

I am just over a month into my new job and there are a lot of people that work in the office. Pretty much everyday I see a new football coach that wasn't there yesterday. I am a man of honesty, integrity, and red hair. What I am not a man of is a man with a good memory. It's not that I don't listen either. My girlfriend used to get angry at me but she realized too that after 10 minutes of entering my head, it's right back out, even if it is important. It may be ADD, it may be laziness. I really don't care (apparently it is due to apathy).

Now since I have to deal with coaches and other members of the athletic staff daily, it would seem it is important to remember these names. But in reality, all you need to know is a few names to get by. There are three important things to remember:

The Over Hi'ers: no matter what office you work in, there is the over peppy person. You know, the "Oh hi! How is your day so far even though it's 8 AM and it looks like you had a night of binge drinking and possibly prostitution but I'm still going to talk really loud as if there is a concert playing behind the wall." Unfortunetaly these are the people you need to remember their names for 1. they always say hi to you with your name, so you have to remember theirs and 2. to make fun of them later when you are slightly less hung over. Luckily, there are only a few of these, so write it down and make a note.

The Dudes: These are the easy and simple crowds. These are the people you use the standard dude move. When walking by you give the nod of the head slightly upwards and simply say "whats up" or "yo buddy" or "hey hows it going." Sometimes you'll find you are having these phrases ready before you even see anyone, but make sure you don't get caught off guard. Recently I feel into one of these situations:

(me walking down the hall passing a football coach)
Football Coach: Yo man, you see that game
Me: Hey hows it going

You look and feel silly for a few minutes after this happens, but he's most likely not going to care because he knows what situation you're in. He probably got a good 6 hours of sleep the night before and you still have 3 different stamps on your hand from the night before and your eyes are more blood shot than Bob Marley. Just shake it off and get ready for the next walk down the hall.

The Handshake: These, I have found, are the most awkward of situations. The more diverse your office is, the more handshakes you will find yourself having to remember. Sometimes you'll get the straight fist pound guy, sometimes you'll get a hi-five. Most of the time it's some sort of weird combo. And it's not an issue of white, black, Asian, or whatever race you are. It's really a regional thing. But when push comes to shove, you have to remember what kind of handshake you do with someone more than their name, because there is nothing more awkward than trying to go for fist pound when the other guy is going for the fist shake. Your hands will just mush together in an uncomfortable ball of awkwardness. You can always ask a name again, especially if you're new, but it's always uncomfortable when you have awkward physical connection, especially with another dude (if you're straight, that is).

Those are basically the three things you have to keep in mind when starting a new job. The work and the responsibility thing just falls in the place, so don't worry about that.

Well, Can't Hardly Wait is on and I'm out of money, so looks like I'll be on the couch for the rest of the night, which isn't too bad of a thing.

Until next time,