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.