You're so not money!
"I'm the asshole! I'm the asshole in the place yeah? Yeah, well I'm outta here. I would never eat here, I would never eat here anyway." -Trent, Swingers
And that pretty much summarizes my weekend. The usual night with the bros turns into an anger/death threats boozefest. And who's the one yelling out obscenities? Yup, this asshole!
Basically, I'm back in the Heights, chillin' with the Hacienda Hate. I'm in a good mood. Just ate at my favorite Peruvian place. Didn't hit any traffic. And I'm looking forward to a pretty peaceful night of getting drunk and losing a couple of bucks at hold'em. Too bad, that night didn't turn out that way.
Nugget, being a good buddy of mine, buy's a bottle of Johnnie Walker for us to drink. But how do I thank him once him and I polish off that bottle? With a bitter lecture that supposedly made no sense. I say supposedly because I don't remember what was said. Just that I was told I was an asshole. Which I wouldn't put it past myself. Alcohol has had that effect on me lately.
But Nugget wasn't the only one who received my wrath. My other homie Gill probably received the most hate from me considering I threaten to kill him. I don't know why I turned on him, but for some reason I was in postal mode.
Yeah, I know. I'm a bastard. And lately my record of getting out of hand, doing things that would normally not get you invited back to places, has been rising drastically. Usually, I say I'm quitting drinking after a punishing hangover, which I did experience on Saturday, and then start back up the next weekend. But this time is different. Although the hangover was extreme hell this past experience, it wasn't the worst part. The worst part was realizing that I'm becoming a bad drunk.
The fun party guy, who laughs like a little girl and hits on chicks who look like they got kicked in the face, hasn't been around lately. Lately, he's been replaced by this guy who talks too much shit and gets bent out of shape. And I don't really like this guy. So I think I need to take it easy for a while. Lay off the sauce until I think I'm back to my old self. Because the way I've been recently, hasn't been me.
And if you're one of the guys who had to put up with my crap recently. My apologies. It won't happen again.
Hiv no more
Well I think it's official. It's been around a year since I last felt like death was knocking on my nuts. I don't know what caused the change. Maybe it was the moving away from my family of bastards. Or just getting out of my hometown, Hacienda Hate. But for some reason I haven't been sick in about a year. I think I finally got the Hiv out of my system.
Now before you go criticizing me about how there's no cure for HIV, let me essplain. I don't actually have HIV. Crabs or herpes perhaps... Haha... I'm just kidding. O_o No really I am... kidding... that is... So anyway! What I was trying to say is I don't really have HIV, but all my life I've constantly been getting sick. For example, if you're sitting next to me coughing, the next day I'll be coughing. If I'm spooning with a drunk whore who's got the flu... You get the message! Basically, I've always had a weak immune system. And instead of trying to explain why it's so, I just say it's the Hiv (pronounced as a word, not H I V) acting up. People laugh, think about it and guess whether I'm telling the truth or not, and then do a fake laugh and walk away. It's just been easier that way.
But I think I won't be needing that excuse anymore. For some reason my health has gotten significantly better. And here I thought I kept getting sick because my liver died about three years ago in a drowning accident. Damn $2 drink specials... But thankfully that's not the case. As a scientific experiment, I've continually drank myself stupid to test this out. Thank God for science, even though they hate each other, but that little experiment proved that hypothesis wrong.
So here I am now. Pretty darn healthy. I may look like crap from the long nights with my good buddy Johnnie Walker. But I feel good. Although, to tell the truth, I do miss the doctor visits. I may have to fake a sickness just to get some free cup-age on the sack. A little cough here and there. Maybe some slap and tickle. You know, just for old times sake. Because the Hiv days are gone! I don't even have to make those shady phone calls about who I gave what...
Fob: "Hey it's Fob. You remember me? I met you that one night."
Random Chick: "Um... no, sorry. I was really drunk that night. I don't remember a thing."
Fob: "Oh... nevermind then."
Random Chick: "Why? Did something happen?"
Fob: "Um... no? Hiv... bye!"
Double Down
Life's all about risks. You see an opportunity and you either go for it, or say it's not worth the risk. All things, from speeding past that yellow light to asking that girl out in marketing with the big fat... hands. <_<
We take chances everyday, and I think how and if we take these chances determines how successful we'll be. Of course, you have to know the odds. Some people take risks on things that have a low percentage of success. Like my dating habits for example...
Fob: "So you're hot, tall, rich, and smart. What are the chances of you and I dating?"
Girl: "Well you're ugly, short, poor, and dumb. You figure it out."
Fob: "So around 80%?"
Girl: "Not even on a bad day..."
Fob: "Ouch... and here I was going to let you order whatever you wanted from McDonalds."
I'm all for taking risks. Throwing myself out there to win big or lose bad. But I have to play the odds. Know when my chances of winning are better than a black guy attending a Ku Klux Klan convention. I want the odds on my side. Especially with my last post, I'll be spending a lot of money on things that will supposedly make me more in the long run. But it's a risk. One that'll take 10 to 15 years to run its course. And I'm curious to see if I played my cards right.
So to test this out. I went to the experts. Not actual experts. I only know idiots, so I went to the smarter idiots. My friends who gamble more than they actually work. They introduced me to online betting and how to go about making smart bets. Just like my investing, I took it very cautiously and bet on the NFC and AFC finals and won both. So I figure if I bet on the Super Bowl and perhaps some basketball games, this should be a good premonition to how my long term investments will go.
Is this logical? I think not. Smart? Probably not that as well. But it's a test. A test of my luck. It's something I need to know. But just in case my luck is crap, anyone have a solid pick for the super bowl? I'm doubling down my winnings...
Ain't that a bitch!
The life of a starving artist isn't fun. Sure you get to do cool artsy projects like taking photos of naked chicks.
Naked model: "How do you want me to pose?"
Fob: "Um... can you do cart wheels???"
Or we get to wear whacked out clothing and think it's cool because you're artistic. -_- Well at least that's what I tell myself. Everyone else probably thinks I look like a fool. Anyway, we get to live a pretty cool, trendy life. But like anything else, that crap fades away quick. And what are we left with? Empty pockets, a grumbling stomach, and a Derrick Zoolander haircut...
What I'm trying to say is it's a bitch living check to check. Back in college, if I knew I was going to be a poor bastard, I would have slept with the business professors instead of the art professors to get better grades.
Times are tough. Last night I had to fight a bum for the last drop of a 40 of OE just to get a sip of alcohol. Well, not that tough. But to top off my regular difficulties, the next couple of months are going to be hell. My standard for living is about to take a shit because of the things I have to pay for. The most notable, is a five grand deposit on a couple of investment houses. I don't want to be poor for the rest of my life so this is an effort to not fulfill that destiny. Yeah, it's an investment, I'll get the money back. But not for a long time. So in the short term, I'm out five grand. :(
The next is I need a new camera. Thanks to technology, my film camera has become a large paper weight. Now that no one uses it, film has become expensive to shoot. So I need to buy a pretty good digital camera that'll work with my film lenses. And the one I'm eyeing is about two grand. T_T
Now the next isn't necessarily a thing I need. But you read earlier that I'm in desperate need of a vacation. Working full-time for 2 years straight with no break is making me postal. I just might choke a bitch if I don't leave for a bit. So my clone, Jwang and I are planning on heading off to asia somewhere in April to get our swerve on. Hopefully those damn wenches there don't give me the bird flu or SARS. Anyway, this trip is going to cost around $1,700 I imagine.
And finally because of my stupidity, I spilled a soda on my friend's computer making it absolutely worthless. Since it's user error the warranty doesn't cover it. And because it's my fault I offered to pay for half of a new computer. T_T
Damn! This sucks. I'm broke. So if any of you want to go hang out, I'm sorry I won't be able to make it unless it's cow tipping or sitting at the beach. If you need me, I'll be at my parents' house trying to score a free meal or sitting in my room at Manhattan Beach playing with myself.
Lets here it for the boys
Yay for gay! I guess Hollywood is finally catching on to the gay porn scene because this year's winners from the Golden Globe awards were from man on man movies. I don't know exactly when doing it in the butt became popular, but it's only a matter of time until you get full blown gay porn scenes in Oscar nominees...
Roy was lucky to be alive. Lucky and screwed at the same time. The 747 jumbo jet that crashed on his 2-person kayak, killing his wife, and leaving him with a deep splinter on his inner thigh was something he never expected. He was happy that there were no deaths on the plane, and just one injury of a person getting a severe rug burn from the emergency exit slide. But he was angry. Not that he lost his wife. But angry at the fact that he wasn't even thinking about her. That he couldn't stop thinking about Tiny. The big, flamboyantly gay, Samoan male nurse.
Roy: "Tiny, what's the word? How long do I have to live?"
Tiny: "Raaaaa-ooooyyyy! No worries girlfriend! The doctor says there's no medical instrument that can remove your splinter. But he said it can be sucked out..."
*music starts... bow-chinky-bow-wow...*
But sadly it's only raining men. Hallelujah! I guess Hollywood isn't ready, or it's not cool yet, to see two butch lesbians tossing each other's salads on the big screen. You'll have to get your fix from Vivid video in the meantime.
Now on the otherhand, you know what would be a huge money maker? The movie of the transsexual! Shit, I'd do this myself just to get a piece of the pie... so to speak. Of course, that would involve a sex change, which is expensive. And I'd probably want a boob job. But I'd be broke, so I'd probably pay to just get really huge, plate sized nipples. Anyway, I can see the headlines now...
Coming this fall to theaters near you, Fobby starring in the critically acclaimed "My face, your face, sit on face!" A tragic love story of a transsexual who joins the LPGA pretending to be a lesbian.
Lez Fob: "Pat, I fell in love with you since the 4th hole. But there's something I have to tell you..."
Pat: "Yes, I love you. There's something about the way you grip your clubs. It's like you've been doing it your whole life..."
Lez Fob: "Pat listen... You see... I didn't always qualify for the LPGA..."
Pat: "It's okay. I wasn't always good. It took practice..."
Lez Fob: "NO PAT, I HAD A PENIS!!!"
Pat: "You bitch!!!"
Okay, so maybe it won't be coming to a theater near you any time soon. But mark my words... In your lifetime I'm sure you'll see something like this. The question is, will you see me in it??? O_o
Memoirs of a Fobby
I wasn't born into the life of a fob. Growing up I played baseball. Ate hotdogs. Did what any regular American boy would do. But as I got older I noticed my environment was slowly changing to the one I know now. The white man moved out, the yellow man moved in. And the more I became aware about it, the more I realized... I want to be a fob.
Eating at Denny's and Coco's became a past time as my friends and I would start showing up at the local Chinese cafe. Common problems would occur while dining like, "What are these forks and knives you speak of?!?! Give me some chopsticks!" Starbucks? No thanks. Lets go get some boba. Extra balls please...
Even in school, my heritage gave me the ability to do well overall, but I failed all my English classes and passed calculus when I was 9 just to fit in. It was a difficult sacrifice but I knew it was something that had to be done. Just like my civic duty... Not to vote. Asians cheat on their taxes and pay under the table anyway. We don't care about American politics. But my civic duty to watch The Last Samurai and Joy Luck Club. I was there opening day proudly sporting my "I <3 Japan" t-shirt. It was a proud day for all us yellow folks...
But there were difficulties. The round-eyed people didn't make it easy. I would get compliments like, "You drive really well for an Oriental." So I would intentionally get in car accidents and drive really slow blocking their way. That quickly raised my fob status as they would pass me up, honking and flipping me off.
But that defeat they would not take lightly. Their revenge was a hardship I struggled to overcome. They would send every slanted eyed male's weakness... Blondes with big huge breasts. A thing every Asian wants. Men and women. They would talk to me, drunk, stupid, and horny, and all I would have to do is take them back to my place. The scent of mothballs would ensure the rest... But I could not give in! As much as I wanted to rub my face between those big fat watermelons saying, "Ahlalala, ooh-ga-boo-ga, gigiditty, gigiditty, gigiditty!!!!" I restrained myself and stuck to what I deserve... A-cups.
This was my destiny. They told me I can't be a fob. They told me my eyes are too round. But I wanted a life I can call my own! I wanted to be a fob...
Yesterday & Today
Out of all the things in this world. The stuff that makes you sad, you just want to cry in the corner all day long. Or the things that make you mad, you get so pissed about someone, you start to think, "Hmm... prison doesn't seem so bad." But especially the happy things. The reasons why we smile. The things in our lives that make all the other bullshit we experience bearable because we have this special thing to cheer us up...
Why is it for some reason these are things that always come to an end? When it's the crap we wish to depart with, after the dust has settled, you look around and the only thing still there is... yup. That big pile of crap!
I guess you're wondering where this new found bitterness is coming from. And don't worry it's not new. It's just something I've tried not to think about lately. But basically, I saw the end to something that was special to me.
Most of you have been in my car so you know what I'm harping about. It's about a band called Do As Infinity. Last night, I saw their final concert. The damn thing made me all sad now.
It's hard to believe it's been this long, but I've been following this band closely for about four years now. They're music initially took away this gloomy cloud that was hovering over my head for many years. And after that cloud had passed the music continued to make me happy.
I've never found a group who's music I've loved this much. Which is why I'm guessing it has to come to an end. Because what kind of good story doesn't have an ending? It's like to truly appreciate something you have to watch it go through it's life cycle.
So I'm doing my best not to hate. The music, although there will never be anything new, will always be close to me.
Damn! She beat me to the punch!
Thanks to careful planning by my mother, the annual New Years celebration with my family was very different this year. Different as in a relative I haven't seen in years showed up. Basically for what seems to me as childish reasons, her and another aunt of mine got into a little squabble one day, arguing about where to go eat and Bam!, just like Emeril Lagasse's sitcom, she mysteriously disappeared.
Now, come New Years Eve, I'm there as usual, shooting the shit with my cousins when here walks in my missing but not forgotten aunt. After being voted off the island apparently she's back for the reunion tour. And she didn't come alone. Slowly entering, comes a business casual, short haired... female "friend". And since you can't see me right now, I'm using my fingers to make the quotation marks. You get my drift?
My aunt coming to our party is shocking enough. But to see her reappear after so long, and with another woman, that totally knocked me off my seat. And after the initial shock, I'm looking at them again and think, "Oh shit!!!" My aunt's the butch one!!!! =O This is just too much...
Now don't get me wrong. I'm not hating on her. If anyone in my old fashioned backwards family would promote, it's definitely the guy who walks the fine line between being straight and bi. Trust me, I'm okay with it. But damn it, I wanted to be the first to shock the family. And with her being the first to come out, I'll have to do something to come over the top. Something so extravagant that when my family looks back on this incident they'll think, "Yeah she's a lesbian... so what?!?! So she doesn't like dick..."
What that is? I have no idea. But I'm sure I won't be having sex with any animals any time soon so beastiallity is out of the question. Perhaps a porn star...
Grandma: "Hi Fobby, I saw this movie and there was this guy who looked exactly like you."
Fob: "Oh was it Broke-butt Mount-him?"
Grandma: "Ah... no. What movie is that?" O_o
Fob: "Um... nevermind." <_<
Fob: *to other relatives* "I think grandma is going senile..."
Vacation all I ever wanted...
Sitting here in an air conditioned office. The work, eh..., it's not that bad. The co-workers, sure I want to slap some of them. But for the most part they're cool peeps. I'd say overall, my life is a non-stressful existence.
So why is it, I'm hurting so bad to get the F out of here??? There are times when work does come, or when the pr0n sites aren't calling my name, that I'm just surfing through lonelyplanet.com wishing I was somewhere else. Like Cancun for instance...
El Fobo: "Donde estan mis pantelones?"
Senorita: "Um, senor, I speak english..."
El Fobo: "Oh you likes the english speaking El Guapo..." *wink wink*
Senorita: "No, senor. I'm just saying you can ask me in english."
El Fobo: "Te quiero mucho baby!"
Senorita: "Nevermind... stupid gringo..."
I mean, it's not just about escaping the everyday routine, although that would be most of it. But it's also about experiencing new things. Meeting new cultures. Seeing other parts of the world. Just like the time I went to Japan.
Fobbi-san: "Excuse me Mrs. Miyagi, I've seemed to have lost my Bonsai tree. Do you know where I can get a new one?"
Geisha: "aoighsdfljbnalrgbhalbh?" <-Japanese
Fobbi-san: "Oh, I'm sorry. Do you speak English?"
Geisha: "Oh engrish, hai! No bra, no panty... special massage?"
Fobbi-san: "Um... that's not what I'm looking for........ But yeah, that'll do!"
It's just nice to get away from things. Even when it's not going so well. Actually, sometimes bad, isn't so bad. Because at least it's different. And it's not like I'm asking to be struck by a lightning bolt, get hammered in the nuts, or get a girlfriend. Not that kind of bad. I'd just like a little variety. The kind of variety that involves being somewhere else. Anywhere else! Why else would I be singing an 80's Go-Go's song? Because right now, vacation all I ever needed...
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Write Bitches!
The lack of work lately has forced me to search upon the web to find something interesting. And since I'm limited to non-pr0n sites, I've been looking at other blogs to see what other people write. And man, are most of them pretty boring! I don't know if it's the lack of talent to write or just the fact that their lives are not interesting, but most of the blogs I've come across are just people ranting about their daily lives. "My boss was a jerk today!" "In class, they made us read this whole book!" "Last night, he put it in my butt..." Oh wait, I think that last one was from a porn site.
But come on! I know some people out there have interesting things going on in their lives. Where's the guy's blog who trains monkeys to throw their feces at you? "Bobo was acting unusually happy today. Normally, he'll spend all day, angrily flinging any piece of crap that flops out of his ass at the first onlooker who stops. But today he's just been masturbating all over his cage..." Or how come you don't see blogs from people like the bouncer at strip clubs? "Today Javi came in at his usual time... 11 a.m. for the chicken wing/lap dance special. But from the smell of things, he'd already had a few 40's of OE. I checked to see if there was a fire hydrant on the hood of his car but that turned out clean so I walked him straight into the champagne room..."
Now these kinds of blogs would make my cube life pass by much faster. But alas, I cannot find them. Or they do not exist. In either case, I'm still sitting here pretending to write an imaginary blank email that pretty much has been embedded onto my screen. You'd think by now they would have spotted me making my rounds flirting with all the cougars, or just sitting here writing one email all day long. But I guess that's something I shouldn't question.
So please... if you're my friend. Write something interesting. Entertain me. Or even if you're not my friend, F-U! I hate you! I hope you get raped by rabid dogs... Twice! Please write something to retaliate. Help me escape the monotony of an office life.
Thank you, come again...
Grocery Shopping with FOB
As a mother of three, my womanly duties require me to buy groceries every week or so. And because I'm a fob I tend to go to the local Marukai market by my house for the food I like. At least that's part of the reason. The other underlying reason is because almost every time I go there I see hot fobs. Yeah, they don't speak a word of english and their teeth are all F-ed up. But hey, I can look past that. Or I call it "looking past that" but really I mean, those damn ho's don't talk to me anyway so it's not like it makes a difference.
That is until today! Hehe... I guess luck would have it, Javi's (Ask him about the frozen chicken) sharing his grocery store charm with me. Because here I am looking at all the different kinds of japanese sauces trying to figure out what the hell is what. I pick up a bottle of what I think is a miso sauce when I hear, "Oh, dat's rearry good with eggprant."
At first I was caught by surprise, so I turned to look who said that and there stands a tiny, 90 lb., J-pop girl with the funky multi-colored hair, and super pale skin. I stare at her for a moment with a stupid look on my face because I'm still shocked someone's talking to me, and then I notice her name tag. I think to myself, oh she works here. And then I think a bit more and it starts to occur to me, she's pretty cute. (If Will made my checklist of qualifications, I could have ran down them faster and got a quicker approval, but that's in the works.) And before long I realized, wait a minute, I haven't said anything yet. Say something stupid!
"Oh, um, um, yeah, it is?" T_T Way to go pimp daddy, I think to myself. So before she can say anything I try and recover and say, "Haha... (<-Marketing Guy Laugh) I don't even know what this is! You work here right? (<-Obviously, stupid...) I cook a lot for my roommates (<-Showing the qualifications) and I was trying to look for something to make soup with. Can you help me out?" Hmm... that didn't sound too stupid. I think I'm still okay here.
She replies in a typical, shy little obedient asian girl response, "Oh, dat's more for stir fry. You try dis." She hands me a bottle of some other crap I can't read. I look at it like an archeologist reading hieroglyphs, trying to find some english on there that says what it is but alas, there is none. So I ask, "Um... what is it?" And she replies smiling, "ah;sdfbnaso;rghiagiohn." O_o At this point, I'm thinking what the hell did she say? But my game is slowly going down hill and I don't want to seem dumb and tell her I don't understand her engrish. I scramble in my head to find something clever to say so this conversation can continue. I'm searching, panicking, and finally I think fuck it, "Um... oh cool thanks." T_T
She smiles again and says, "Yur welcrome!" and then goes on her way. And that's when the mental beat down starts. I'm kicking myself in my head, which is basically when my penis starts talking to me.
FOB's penis: *sniffs* Hey you smell that? Is that a j-pop girl? Wait it's leaving! Go get her!
FOB: Yeah dude, I tried. But my game sucks. She's walking away.
FOB's penis: Well then go after her and get me some play! You know how long it's been since I've gone cave exploring? You haven't gotten me any action since 1982!
FOB: Shut up man, it's not that easy.
FOB's penis: You know what? If I weren't your penis, I'd kick you in the nuts!
FOB: Yup. Keep it up, and I'll stick you in a big black man's ass!
FOB's penis: :( Sorry, sorry. I'll just wait here and watch myself shrink.
And that my friends is how I go grocery shopping. It's interesting and sad at the same time... :( Did she like me? Who knows... Maybe she just wanted to help the dumb round-eye find what he wanted. I guess that's a mystery better left unsolved...
Fire in the hole!
Well... my ass blew up this Christmas.
And you'd think something like this would happen on New Years when I'm drunk and stupid. But no, this post has nothing to do with any gay love. Kinda sad huh? I might have preferred that. Anyway, I went to the annual Chili Cook-Off at Nugget's house for Christmas Eve. It's usually a fun event where my friends and I drink a lot, we watch some porn, and eat some of old man Nugget's chili.
And it just so happens last year I tried eating a bowl of this super hot, habanero infested chili, and sweated away 10 pounds. I was such a bitch about it last year that I tried to prove myself this year. Man, am I dumb. I ate about one and half bowls before the pain in my stomach hit me. It hurt bad. Kind of like Aliens when they're punching out of your stomach. It hurt so bad I passed out for a bit.
So basically I go the rest of the night not drinking anymore, which sucked, just drinking water. The next morning I wake up to find this grumbling in my crack going on. I'm a little groggy so I think nothing of it and go to take a dumb. And then's when someone lit my butthole on fire. Man, that was worse than my stomach hurting. I almost felt like rubbing ice cubes on my exit hole, but then I remembered I didn't enjoy it that much the first time I did that.
So... anyway, I just don't think I'll ever beat the chili. I lost twice. And this year it kicked my ass. Literally... Chili: 2, Fob: 0.
Girl'ish Figure
You know it's not very easy to maintain this size 28 waist. With my combination diet of starving myself and crapping seven times a day I'm barely able to stay a buck sixty. But now it's the holiday season, and my months of flirting with the cougars and MILF's in my company is finally catching up to me. Every morning I find a new piece of dessert, pastry, or snack on my desk.
Usually, I don't even eat desserts unless it's cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory or a Pazooki (sp?) from BJ's. But damn it, I'm trying to maintain my upstanding relationship with these women. Who knows when they're going to need a young buck like myself to step in when the husband's not fulfilling his duties. I have to eat! Eat like a champ! I have to slam my face in there like Ace at an all girls elementary school. Like Barnes at a butthole buffet, I have to dig in and smile.
But alas, my girl'ish figure is fading. How am I suppose to attract those 2x4 ladies when the combined weight of my two butt cheeks weighs more than them? I'm spirling down a vat of Baskin Robbin's World Class Chocolate ice cream and I don't know how to pull myself out. Someone help! Or at least point me to the nearest toilet so I can throw up.
By the way, do I look fat???
To Do List
Last night I had a discussion with a friend about things we'd like to
do before we die. I know that's pretty cliche but who actually sets a
list down and seriously follows through with it? I can't follow through
with crap let alone set time out to even write a stupid list. So
instead of having a five year old boy's pipe dream of doing things like
going to the moon, we talked about things we'd like to do in the immediate
future. Like within the next 10 years. And what I came up with were
mostly things I'd like to see except for one.
1. See the cherry trees blossom in Kyoto, Japan. It happens in the
months of March and April and is supposedly very pretty.
2. Visit the Great Barrier Reef off the shores of Australia. After
seeing it on the Travel Channel I've determined that one day I'm going to
go scuba diving there.
3. Stay at the Atlantis hotel in the Bahamas. If you've seen photos
you'd know why it's on my to do list. It looks like a massive Raging
Waters hotel. Some of the rooms are even under water.
http://www.atlantis.com/
4. Stay at the Burj Al Arab hotel in Dubai. This one will probably
get me killed or kidnapped because it's in the Middle East. The hotel is
shaped like a sail and is literally in the ocean. Maybe to check out
the only seven star hotel in the world and not get beheaded I'll wear a
shirt that says "I'm from Canada....A".
http://www.burj-al-arab.com/
5. And finally... join the Mile High Cub. It's highly unlikely that
any of you don't know what that means so I'm not going to explain it.
And don't ask why. It's just something I want to do. So Aaron if
you're free to go on a vacation, maybe I can get two of these items knocked
off my list.
Brrrrr....
Does anyone need any glass cut? Because it's colder than a witch's tit! My nipples are so sharp right now I just might poke your eyes out next time I see you.
Which is why I'd like to say man, do I miss the 909. During the summer it was nice to be out here because it was hot as hell in the Heights. But now that it's getting closer to the winter, I just might lose a testicle to frost bite.
I mean, I may not look it because of my pale, cracker ass, skin color but I'm pure flip. We be a tropical people. I should be throwing spears at monkeys in the hot, steamy jungle. Not fighting off eskimos for bear fur to keep warm. Okay there's no eskimos. Just tall, rich, white people. But for some reason they don't look as cold as I am. Rich bastards...
Anyway, if any of you want to send me to Hawaii or the Bahamas to defrost, please send your check or money order to my home address. I also accept PayPal. Thanks.
Memory Lane
It's those feelings. You're looking at her. She glances at you and then looks away. It's obvious to any third party that both you and her are thinking the same thing but you're too much of a chicken shit to do anything and she doesn't know what's suppose to happen next. So finally after you play eye tag for 15 minutes and wipe off the sweat from your hands, you say, "Ah, fuck it!" and try and move in for the kill. Of course back then, the kill didn't mean shit compared to what kids are doing these days but hey, a kiss was tough for me then alright so get off my back! Anyway... You're close. She's inches away. All you got to do is nod your head forward... But then you realize, "Wait a minute! This isn't my girl..."
Or...
Why do I do all this crap for her?!?! She's not that hot. And she's not that nice. But here I'm standing at the stupid counter ready to dish out 5 bills on this girl. And for what? Everyone of those jerks says I should kick her to the curb. In my heart I know she's no good for me and that they're right but... But here I am standing thinking if I buy this for her, it'll make her happy and maybe things will get better. Oh man, I'm such a tool. Screw this! I'm outta here! I'll get her a big fat F U for Christmas and see how she likes... "Excuse me sir, how will you be paying for this Hermes bracelet?" The sales lady asks. "Um... charge." :( Shit, fuck, shit, fuck, a;dlkjfao;ht gqbjgpadhsfgoaihdg!!!!
Yup. You guessed it. This past weekend I took a trip down memory lane in different ways. One was the obvious year book. That brings back memories for everyone. And the second was having conversations with friends reminding me of past poor decisions. Yeah, like I needed that! Thanks by the way, you bastards!!!
But anyway, these instances got me thinking about how I used to be. Ten years ago... Three years ago... A couple of months ago... I remember back in high school I was such a lame, love sick, loser. I wanted more than anything just to find the perfect mate for myself. Yeah, in high school. Like I'm likely to find a soul mate in high school. I had a better chance of finding out I'm gay then that, but that's another story.
So... moving along, again this weekend I'm reminded of how I used to be. Which is a bitch! A big, fat, whipped bitch! Excuse me sir would you like me to pick up the soap so you can ram me up the butt BITCH! You get what I'm saying? I don't know what came over me, but I was doing whatever it is this girl wanted. I just couldn't help myself.
And here I am now. Reflecting on the man I used to be. Or still am. I haven't figured that out yet. I hope I've gotten better as a person because of the past failed relationships I've been in but who knows. Who can decide that? I certainly can't. I guess time will tell. But as God as my witness, if any other girl tries to drag me around by my twig and berries I swear I'll beat the living... no I won't. I'll probably marry her... :( Ah shit!!!!
Showtime!
Well I've been b!tching and whining long enough to where they're finally giving me a chance. Lets just hope I don't royally screw this one up.
As it turns out, I'm being sent by my company to the SEMA show in Vegas next week to shoot photos of the event. And for those of you who are car retarded like me, I guess it's the biggest aftermarket car parts show in the U.S. If you still don't know what that means, just think of Jason and all his friends when they were in the movie, Fast & the Furious. It's basically all that nonsense....
The way I landed this gig was in my typical salesman/PR style. I just kept constantly talking about photography with various coworkers boasting my nonexistent skills and acting like I know what I'm talking about. To my surprise it actually worked. They never did see any of my photos but I'm pretty sure they're thinking I'm some kind of Ansel Adams. Man, do I have them fooled. If you count taking gay pr0n photos of Mark for his graduation, then yeah, I have photo experience.
But I guess now's the time to put out or shut up! Or was it "put up"? Well, whatever! If I have to put out to get magically delicious photos then I'll do what I have to do. I just hope there's no photos of that...
What's your percentage?
Seven percent. Total. Chunte's playing the lottery have better odds than me.
After my last blog sparked a flurry of negative comments, my roommates and I had a very unintelligent but interesting conversation on just how many eligible women are out there for me. It was complex and I probably don't remember all the details but I'll give you the break down.
Basically, they told me out of all the people out in the world, only 7 percent meet the requirements I look for. Now, I don't know about you, but that seems like a tiny number. But lets start from the beginning.
To make things simple lets say there are half men and half women in the world (50 percent) Of that half, fifty percent are between the ages of 18 and 40, which are the ages I can date without going to jail or still find someone who can produce an offspring for me (25 percentt)
And at this point I got lost because they kept on whipping out other factors that would lower my percentage. But from what I understood, according to my size and looks preference, which is supposedly rare, there are only 7f possible candidates out there that would make a suitable wife for me. What the F?!?! And they also mentioned that these females don't exist in the U.S., Canada, Philippines, China, and Japan because I've been there already and I obviously didn't find them because I'm not married yet. Don't ask why the reasoning isn't right on. I didn't say this was an intellectual conversation, I said it was interesting... in a sort of dumb guy logic way. No matter what, I still don't think it sounds right but whatever. I live with a bunch of jerks!!!
Anyway, what do you think your percentage is?
Yes'um masta
"Excuse me can you take that stick out of my @ss? I have to go take a sh!t"
That's generally how I feel when I'm at work. I'm bent over takin' it in the @ss. And I'm not talking about the good kind. Um... if there is such a thing. I'm talking about American Me, "Sit on my d!ck or sh!t on my knife." Basically my stuff is getting used and abused.
I'm pretty much there 15 minutes early everyday when my boss shows up half an hour late. She spends all day on email and the phone while I do all three magazines by myself. She'll try and do something when her higher-up comes by but it'll take her 2 hours to do it and she'll screw it up anyway. I then take 5 minutes to fix it and another hour to teach her how do it right which she'll forget in a day. But the thing that pisses me off the most, is the damn lady takes credit for my work. What the �hdv..$@?!?! I swear to God, Wayne Brady's gonna have to choke a b!tch. Because this lady is asking for it.
But you know, come tomorrow I'll be there with a smile on my face, "Shine yo shoes masta?" Or "You be a fine boss! I like pickin's dem cotton fo you."
"Hey what's the score?" "Um, I think the estrogen is winning."
As requested of me by some of you guys, today I went to go work out at the 24 Hour Fitness in Torrance to scout and check out the talent. See if there are any cute J-pop girls. And to my surprise, what did I find? A bunch of a sea donkeys. I mean, I'm not trying to be shallow here. But it's the gym. Aren't the people there suppose to have nice bodies? Or do they no longer make the size I like anymore?
Although, I did end up meeting someone. Every time I would move from one weight machine to the next this person would move next to me. And if some of you are thinking it's a chick. I'm flattered. But my luck isn't that good. It was a dude! Son of *�^*..@!!!
But I know what you're thinking, "Maybe this guy is just working out the same stuff as me." And I thought that as well. At first I didn't think anything of it. But when he started trying to catch my eye and I noticed his eyebrows were thinly waxed and he was wearing eye liner, that pretty much gave it away.
So here we are working out next to each other. I'm hoping this guy doesn't say anything to me when I hear, "Hey bra, you got some big calves. I work mine out all the time but I can't get them that big. What do you do to get that?" And sure reading that you may not pick up on it. But imagine a flaming gay guy trying to sound like a masculine dude. Basically imagine Jason talking and you'll get the picture. At first I didn't know what to say. I was like "Huh?" But then I told him to go try the calf presses and then I excused myself. I guess that was pretty cold. And I'm sure if we were at a bar and I already had a few in me, I'd work this guy into buying me a couple. (Yeah, I'm shady so what?!?! I'm poor. Give me a break!) But there was no such alcohol available so I went my own way.
But what is it with the wrong sex hitting on me all the time? I mean, yeah I know my @ss is shaped like a ripe apple and that guy was right about my legs. Haha... I'm just kidding. But seriously, last I checked there wasn't a target on my @ss nor a welcome sign.
Hmm... I mean all you guys know I goof around with my sexuality and that I walk the fine line. But looking at me could you tell the difference? Or does personality show? Lets add up the physical and personality characterisitcs:
I haven't shaved in three days=1 point straightness
I pluck my eyebrows almost every night=1 point gayness
I think Jessica Alba is super hot=1 point straightness
I think David Beckham is a stud=1 point gayness
My drink of choice is scotch=2 points straightness
My roommates watch baseball, I watch Food Network=1 point gayness
I'd rather go to Ikea than Home Depot=1 point gayness
Musicals are more interesting than sporting events=1 point gayness
I've gone to tanning sal..2 points gayness
I know how to use a straight iron, but not a single power tool=1 point gayness
I've had more guys pick up on me than girls=1 point gayness
And...
I've never had sex with a man=3 points straightness
Well it's a pretty close score but I guess I can see why dudes jock. I mean, who can blame them. At least I know if I ever end up in prison I'll be the most popular kid this side of cell block D.
To hell and back...
Or at least that's how it felt today. I drove back to the Heights today to visit my family and good lord, it was hot!!! And I'm not talking about just an unpleasant warmth. I'm talking about the kind of hot that turns your nuts into a sweaty mess. Well you know what I mean, whatever type of reproductive organs you got, you got boxers or thongs that are soaking. And I don't know about you folks but I don't really enjoy the feeling of creaming my panties with that type of fuid.
I've only been living in Manhattan for 3 weeks now so I don't think it couldn't have spoiled me that quick. The weather here is great, but I've lived in the Heights for almost all my life. The heat shouldn't bother me that much. But when I was there all day, the only thing I could think about was heading back to Manhattan. And of course when I get back, I crack the windows open and a cool beach breeze flows through my car.
I guess once something good happens in your life, you tend to get used to it. Hopefully, I can get my roots back and enjoy the burning hot sun and fobby stupid drivers... Ah screw that!!! Hopefully I never have to move back!
Westside!!!!
Okay that sounded stupid. Well if you can picture me saying it like the dumb cracker that I am then you'd know what I'm talking about.
So anyway, it's been a bit over a week since I've moved from the very far east side of L.A., (China Hills to White Man-hattan Beach) to the west and I have to say it's been pretty nice out here. First and foremost, the weather is just great out here! I don't think I've felt hot once. And just for you Hashimoto Heights peeps out there, I'm talking about a 15 degree difference. But don't worry folks. I know you guys are suffering in the heat right now so I'll try not to enjoy it too much.... I have a long time to rub it in your faces.
Okay, now the bad stuff. It's frickin' loud here. I can't sleep. All kinds of noises going on from cars and construction, to this damn bird that I swear is eventually going to get a bullet in the face if it keeps yappin' away at 6 a.m. And not only that but I think I'm grumpier in the morning because my roommates sleep late and drink every night which leaves me as a sloppy mess come morning.
And that leads me to my next topic. Work. The reason I'm out here. My new job now requires me to be at the office at 8 a.m. sharp. If I'm late they cut off a testicle or threaten to knock off my family. Well... not really, just they're really strict compared to what I'm used to. I guess I'm used to the slacker work lifestyle. I miss my two hour lunches and coming to work when I felt like it. But the thing I missed the most out of everything was the stupid internet and my daily Starbucks. Well the internet I can't go on because they crack the whip on us at work. They actually make me work. Can you believe that crap?!?! That's bullsh!t... And the coffee, well someone's crackin' the whip on me for that because I'm addicted to caffeine. I know it's just being helpful and all but I need my juice!!! That's like asking me not to drink alcohol. It's just not going to happen.
So yeah, that's life abroad. I guess it seems like I've got more to b!tch about then I did back in the 909 but it's cool out here. I'm basically the house wife with my new roommates but they like my cooking so I guess it's all good. But if one of them asks me to put out they're getting their piece chopped off!
Roadside assistant? ...F-U!
Here I am going about my day and I see this guy pulling off the road. It's obvious he's out of gas. So I decide to be a nice guy and help him out. I help him push his car off to the side and he asks me to give him a lift to get gas. I figure "Sure, why not."
So we go get the gas and we end up back at his car...
(I usually don't pick up strangers for fear of being raped and murdered; well maybe just murdered, but this guy was a skinny dorky looking guy so I thought I could take him if I had to.)
...Anyway, we end up back at his car and I tell the guy, "Hey maybe I should poor the gas in. This tank seems pretty heavy." But he tells me, "Oh no, don't worry. I don't want you to get dirty. Just hold the funnell."
So I think alright man. And as I am standing there holding the funnell, this idiot almost breaks his back trying to lift the spare tank, starts pooring the gas, but couldn't hold up the tank anymore. He spills it all over my hands before he just drops the whole thing and it splashes all over my clothes.
I wanted to say, "You son of a..." and beat the crap out of him. But I held back. I picked up the gas and poored it myself. Sent him on his way, and mumbled cuss words as I went back to work.
So here I am now writing this blog, smelling like funk, and getting high from the fumes. And my advice to you is don't help anyone stranded on the road unless they're a hot babe. At least that way maybe you can get oil all over her.
Motivation
As my days here at the National Cracker Association run out, I find myself being less and less motivated to do anything. For example I showed up to work today at 10:30 a.m., researched Mac computers for about an hour and half, went to Fuddruckers and Starbucks for lunch which took about 3 hours and was extremely delicious, and here I am now looking like an idiot downloading music and writing this blog. Although you can't see my computer it's obvious I'm not working.
For those of you who know me, you're probably thinking so what's the difference? And to you I say, "Suck this! Bastards!!!! I actually work!"... here and there. I mean, I do goof around a lot on a daily basis. But the truth is I do a lot of work while messing around. You can say I've mastered the technique of switching back and forth from the internet and my work.
But the problem is now, I just don't feel like doing anything. I've been working hard for the past couple of days and now I feel I deserve a break. Which in my case is going to suck because when I leave this job my next one starts immediately. No vacation.... And I had a trip planned for the homeland this Christmas. I was really looking forward to the island poon for a Christmas present. :(
Oh well... Maybe things will look better once I get out of the 909 and head west. Maybe the J-pop babes in Torrance will be extra nice to me. Ah crap!!! That's not going to happen. They speak Engrish. They'll know I'm full of sh!t...
Going, Going, Gone!
I don't know if anyone read my post about my boss quitting, but I swore then I wouldn't be the guy who goes down with the ship. Of course, I didn't think that would happen so quick.
But those who haven't talked to me in a while, I just received a promotion at the NHRA as an Art Director. I've been in charge of all the artistic aspects when it comes to any publication we do. It's been a pretty huge promotion for me considering I passed up a few coworkers who's seniority exceeds mine. Well that and I get the corner office with all the windows and privacy to download all the pr0n I desire. I mean... work in peace.
So yeah, it's been cool. I've been working like a mad man though, staying late almost every night and not really having time to work out or cook. But I got over that...
And here today comes. I get a call from a company that I interviewed a couple of weeks ago with that just offered me a pretty decent position. The pay is about the same, but the opportunity to make more is substantial. They're located by the beach, which means nice weather. Also it gets me out of the 909. People always joke about it being cow town and that it's like the wild west. I know it's not true but it's always nice to say, "Get 'em Pa!!!" and try to tie them up like a calf.
Anyway, this is my situation. I just put in my notice that I'll be quitting. I've given them a couple of weeks but after that I'm gone.
I feel bad about this, but I have to think about my future. I know I'll be screwing them over because we're already short staffed. But this is something I have to do.
So I put this to you. Would you do the same?
No more booze... for now...
In the wise words of Whistler from the Blade movies, "I feel like hammered sh!t."
That's exactly how I felt for the past two days. I knew for sure I'd be drinking this weekend since it's the 4th of July, but I didn't think I'd feel like I turned 21 all over again. Or at least the day after...
This past Sunday was our annual 4th of July party with some of my friends. We swim, we drink, we throw each other in the pool, we eat, I usually hurt myself somewhere in between all that, and then we drink some more. (F-U tooth haters!!!) But aside from it being a holiday, it's also my buddy Peter's birthday. So in typical asian fashion we head over to Highlands to party it up. And this happens to be the first time in a very long time we all head over there as a group. It ended up being a huge celebration. I haven't drank that much in many, many moons. I don't think I did anything stupid. And when I mean stupid, I mean I don't think I fooled around with any girls. If I did... my bad... I hope she was legal.
Leaving the club was pretty blurry. I remember slapping some girl's @ss outside, but that's about it. I think I passed out after that. But my friends insisted on eating after so I had to wake up and sit there at some restaurant and not fall over or puke onto anyone's bulgogi. I knew by then that I was going to be jacked. Of course I can't do anything about it by then. But at least I was still trying to be a wing man for boy Jason, and the girls we met to go eat with. I made a couple of comments that I think helped out but I can only open the door. Jay's got to learn to walk through it. (Jason: Look I don't care if they're not hot! Just get in there and get your PP wet)
I think I lasted about a good 15 minutes sitting there before I realized I was done. I mean once the eyes start to glaze over, it's sandman time or hugging the toilet. Take your pick. I chose to pass out in the car.
Hence the next morning comes that good ol' feeling of hammered sh!t. What does that feel like? It's hard to describe if you haven't been through it. But basically your head feels like someone took a bat to it, your stomach is ready to go inside out, and the worst part.... At least for me... is the alcohol sh!ts. Man, my butthole is just not equipped to handle that kind of damage. I try and keep that bad boy tight. I guess you can say I'm saving myself for my first cell mate.
So yeah! No more alcohol. I'm swearing it off. The feeling of hammered sh!t just isn't worth it. I'll just stick to my green tea and Powerade.
Disclaimer:
I now or never shall actually quit drinking alcohol for a period longer than 48 hours unless 1.) They stop making it. Or 2.) Someone sews my mouth shut, in which case I will inject it into my blood.
This post is just a lie I tell myself every time I go through this. So don't burst my bubble and let me live my lie until I break it.
Artist? Artiste? Or am I just full of sh!t?
Had an overall interesting but busy and tiring weekend. From Friday to Saturday I had a fully packed schedule. But first let me say good luck Azer in St. Louis. It was a nice going away party on Saturday and I'm glad one of us has the nuts to start anew somewhere out in the world. I don't know if they're corn fed out there but if they try and string you up let me know and I'll let you borrow some firearms to defend yourself.
As for Sunday, I spent the day helping my bud Steve move from West L.A. back to Hashimoto Heights. And let me say I'm pretty much worthless when it comes to manual labor. Picking up heavy things and moving furniture is something more for Iron Jay then for a feminine guy like myself. I mean, do I look like I can carry your TV? I might as well have baked brownies and made them lunch if I wanted to be useful...
But Friday. Friday was an eye opener for me. I had a day of art and culture with an old friend as I explored downtown L.A. and viewed the corporate art out there. It seems kind of lame that I've lived in L.A. my whole life and I work as an artist, but I haven't really experienced the L.A. art scene and what it has to offer. It was amazing to me how many beautiful artistic pieces there are in downtown L.A. considering it's a business district. I mean, almost every building had a work of art sitting at their doorstep. And my friend, she pretty much new everything about each one. I was thoroughly impressed but sad at the same time. Sad that I didn't know crap of any of this...
And after this experience, later that night we went to the Hollywood Bowl to watch and listen to the L.A. Orchestra featuring Trisha Yearwood, Joshua Bell, and Josh Grobin. They all performed beautifully making for a very entertaining night.
It was just an overall amazing day. But it made me think of what I really am. I mean, yeah, I work as a graphic designer, but am I really an artist? I've always considered myself one but when it comes to actual skill and knowledge, I think I'm more of a hand shaker disguised as one. My knowledge of art history dates back to my crayola days... That's about it. Other than that, I don't really know much of who's done what and why. Most of the time I can't even tell why something looks and/or feels amazing.
But oh well... I guess that's who I am. I think coming to terms of who I am is better than thinking I'm something I'm not. At least this way, I can work on faking it better and giving off the image that I'm a starving successful artist. (Insert Marketing guy laugh ) Lets just hope people appreciate me now instead of until after I die.
If you're happy and ya know it clap your hands...
I had dinner with my cousin over the weekend and we were talking about blogs and how most people who write in them usually write expressions of sadness and anger. How they usually rant about the things that aren't right in their lives. And then there's my dumb @ss, who tells stories about my daily fumbles in womenly interactions and other irrelevant activities. My blog is certainly nothing like most others.
As explained to me by my cousin, he told me it's because I'm happy. I didn't understand so he told me people who are happy generally are not at home expressing their happiness by writing in a blog. That there are many other ways of expressing happiness and that a blog/diary is usually the things that people don't want to share or have other people know about.
As simple an idea as this, it actually made me think. (Especially coming from my idiot cousin. Haha... J/K) But it made me think, "Am I really happy?" Sure, the answer I'd like to give to myself would be yes. I'm damn happy! But I know my stresses and worries in life are always haunting me. Work, money, relationships, family... These are things I think about on a regular basis. But then again that's just reality. Without that, I'd be living in fantasy land where I have a clone army of naked Tomiko Van's and Jessica Alba's serving me, and I'm the king. Muahahaha... Um... okay maybe not that much of a fantasy but you know what I mean. So yeah, without that reality check, that's just not life. That's la-la land...
So with all that to consider into the picture, still, am I happy? Well I can remember back to when I was sure that I was unhappy. To when I was constantly depressed. If you've known me for a while then you know when I was down and out. I was just a huge bitter ball of crap! Anyway, when I compare that feeling to how I feel now, I think in all honesty I am a happy person. Sure, not everything's going my way just yet. But in general, my life is good. And things are constantly getting better so how can I complain.
I know for the most part, a portion of you people think I'm a cocky bastard and that how can I feel down when I'm always patting my own back... and you're right! I am. But I do get insecure every now and then in my daily life so please excuse this feel good post. Soon enough I'll get back to hating on myself and probably start raggin' on you folks too! So be ready! Hehehe...
Constantine Wannabe
I know there's going to come a time when I have to face my maker and decide whether I've lived a good life. If I'll be spending eternity in heaven with JC and the boys, or burning away as a lost soul. I feel I'm living a pretty good life, but who's to say, "Okay, you've done enough good. You're in." To my knowledge, it's a never ending process. You have to keep following the rules. You may be good in one area, but if you suck @ss in another, whoops, see ya! You take the one way trip into the deep depths of hell or sit in the waiting room known as Purgatory and try earn your way up like Constantine. Unless of course you happen to be with someone as hot as Demi Moore and have psychic friends like Whoopi Goldberg...
Ghost Me: "Ditto."
Demi Girlfriend: "Huh? Did you hear something?"
Ghost Me: "I said ditto!!! D-I-T-T-O!!!!"
Demi Girlfriend: "Oh man, I'm hearing things. Crack, that's one hell of a drug."
Ghost Me: "Ah sh!t... I'm screwed..."
I guess I'm thinking about this because I spent this past weekend volunteering at my annual church fair. It's an annual fundraiser for my church that I've worked at for the past 12 or so years. But before you go handing me your babies to kiss and hold, don't praise me just yet. I'm a long ways from being considered a good Catholic boy. In fact, I think I only go to church a total of five times a year. That's Christmas, Easter, and this past weekend.... Not exactly, keeping that day Sabbath huh? I know... But if we're going off a points scale, aside from the religious aspect I live a pretty respectable life. Um, well not counting the alcohol. And um, and the partying. And I guess the occasional women I date. Alright, I know I'm screwed! I guess Purgatory doesn't sound that bad anymore. At least I know I won't be alone. Most of you who are reading this are in the same boat as me. So kick it. Pull up a seat. We're going to be here a while...
Hawaii 5-0... for a good time. But $250 will make you holla'!
Tuesday morning and I'm back in the grind. But this past weekend I spent drunk in the sun in Hawaii. This was a long due vacation that I definitely needed.
Originally I thought, "Oh man!!! J-pop babes here I come!!!" But when I got there it was a different story. I mean sure, there was a couple of cute fobs here and there. But not nearly as many as I saw when I went to Japan.
(If you haven't figured it out yet, Hawaii is populated with more Japanese tourists than American tourists)
But what really caught my eye, was the damn Swedish bikini team turned prostitutes. These girls were like 5'10, blonde, smokin' body, and out to make some money. You can tell who they were because for some reason they all wore glass heeled slippers. But trust me, come midnight Cinderella doesn't turn into a poor slave girl. Well... maybe she does if you pay her enough... But anyway, these girls were hot! I wouldn't look directly at them for fear I would be lured into their double D charm.
Of course, these are just the working girls. And I'm not about to pay for a piece of patch. So I went to a couple of clubs out there, just to experience the night life and possibly test my game in fresh waters. The first club I went to was Oceans.... And can someone say asian night at Highlands. This place was a reproduced version of a typical club in Hollywood. Not that I'm complaining, the girls there were still cute. But I felt like I was back in L.A. What also felt similar was the asian girl attitude. I guess that doesn't change state to state because those girls were just as hard to pick up on as they are here. Obviously, what I'm trying to say is no play for me that night.
The next night I roll solo because my buddies were drained from the constant partying. I head over to a club called Zanzibar suggested to us by a bartender. This place was Soul Train-the Hawaii version. There wasn't a single person there who couldn't shake their @ss. Usually, I can hold my own in a club, but man did I feel intimidated. So I did what any person would do with no dancing skills... I got liquored up. Five glasses of scotch later (keep in mind I've been drinking all day so by this point I'm trashed) I think I'm JT and I start rockin' my body towards these island chicks. One of them is pretty hot, the other two... well, I would only jump on those grenades if I had to. Anyway, I ask the hot one to dance and we make our way out on the dance floor. She's obviously a much better dancer than me but by this point I really don't care how I'm moving just as long as I am. The night goes on and she's actually into me. We're dancing having a good time but her friends come over and say their leaving. The hot girl won't ditch them so she goes along with them and takes any chances for any play for me that night. Of course this is my fault. That's Picking Up 101. The first rule you learn. You got to keep the ugly friends happy. You got to win the crowd Maximus. And that I did not...
So that's my Hawaii story. I left out all the typical touristy stuff like: "It's beautiful there." "The beaches are so nice." Yada yada yada... I'm sure you all assume that already so I figure you'd rather hear about whores and me getting shot down. Anyway, this little vacation keeps my record at 0 for the century. Yay...
Who does number 2 work for?
So here's a little piece of info that you probably didn't want to know about me. I think I'm bulimic... but just on the other end...
You must be thinking WTF? But hold on, let me explain. At this moment I've only been awake for four hours and I've already taken three dumps. I think my @ss is doing a number on me.
But I think the sad truth is this is my super secret technique for staying skinny. I'd say on average I visit the porcelain throne about five to six times a day. I didn't really think that was abnormal until my coworkers kept asking me, "What the hell you keep doing in the bathroom?!?! Stop whackin' off!!!" Sadly, that was not the case. I was dropping major bombs...
Well there you go. Now you know... But now I think I lost a few friends from this post. But hey come on! Everyone has to do it. Outkast says it's okay so who am I to say my sh!t don't stink. Oh well. Not all my posts can be about me getting shot down by some girl.
Hey there! I'm short. You're not. Lets hook up!!!
So here's a question for those of you out there. Guys: In all seriousness, would you be with a woman who's taller than you? Gals: Would you be with a shorter guy?
In my moments of boredom at work where I pretend to be doing something productive, I was recalling some of the conversations I had this weekend. And one topic that seems to stand out in a 'Oh so bitter' way, was the multiple conversations about height. (Let me take this opportunity to shake my fist at my parents. . "Why couldn't you eat more dogs or whatever it was you were eating in the Philippines so you'd be taller?!?!") *cough* um... excuse me, sorry for that...
Anyway, of lately, I've been around some pretty hot chicks whose height exceeds my own. And I know by default that my chances with them are non-existent for as long as my eyes are level with their breasts. . I mean... that's a good thing... in a perverted sort of way... not that I'm a pervert... but you know what I mean... ah nevermind that. .
So I wonder if I could actually be with a girl who's taller than me. I mean I'm 6',-6" (That's read six, negative six for you mathematically challenged folks. It sounds taller this way.) Would I really want to be with someone 5'7 or taller? Originally, I thought not until after I become a millionaire. So then when people ask, "What the hell is she doing with him???" At least there'll be an excuse/reason why. Yeah I know. That's a sad way of justifying things but hey it works...
But I think in all honesty, I couldn't handle it. I'd be too insecure to date someone taller than me. Well that and standing on my toes to kiss someone doesn't sound that appealing. Oh well. I guess I'm destined to date midgets and dwarfs. Or maybe someone can hook me up with that hobit bar wench from Lord of the Rings. "Hey there bar wench! I'm Vinnie Baggins. You want to sit on my face?!?!" .
Hey little girl. Pick you up after 6th period???
This isn't the first time this has happened to me, but last night while I was working out at the gym these girls came up to me, "Hee hee, excuse me, my friend thinks you're cute." They giggle and then they walk off. I smile at them and then I go back to my workout. I don't really think anything of it.
Later on when I'm leaving, the same girls are hanging out by the entrance of the gym and once again, they stop me, "Hee hee, um excuse me, here's my friend. She thinks you're hawt! Hee hee...." By this point, I'm already thinking this girl's jailbait. But then I'm no better than any other male, so I stop to check her out. And to my surprise she happens to be pretty cute. So I smile to them again and say, "I'm sorry. You girls are probably too young for me." I excuse myself and go on my way...
Of course that's what I said. But thanks to Britney Spears, these damn high school girls look like they're slutty college level girls and if I didn't see them acting all childish, I would have never thought they were that young. Meanwhile, what I was thinking was something along the lines of an R. Kelly move... "My mind's telling me no!!! But my body... my body's telling yeeesssss!" Yeah I know, I'm going to jail. But it's not my fault. I only get these young girls talking to me because I look like I'm 18. All the older women won't even talk to me because they think I'M jailbait.
Well no matter what, I still know better than to screw around with these young chicks. I'm just not ready to be put in that position to where I'm explaining to a police officer, "I swear Mr. Ocifer, she told me she was eleventeen."
Simple Green: Cleaning agent.... or pepper spray alternative???
Welcome to another episode of "Stupid things Fobby does when he's drunk". In todays show we'll be discussing how Fob seems to always be the one getting hurt when everyone's drunk...
This weekend I was fortunate enough to be invited to the Pacific Beach block party down in San Diego. And before I get started, I'd just like to say that I had an awesome weekend. It was great weather, interesting atmosphere, and excellent company.
Started the weekend going to a little house party where I finally met someone more metro than me. His place was in the true sense, a bachelor pad. But anyway, this is where I really had a chance to talk to everyone and meet them. Of course, everyone was cool and fun. I spent the evening mingling and drinking XO. Although, later that night I almost got raped for grabbing my friend Lisa's camera. I escaped with my genitals intact but for some reason I left unsatisfied... Hmm.... Oh well... Night one: No party foul...
Saturday comes along and I wake up hours before everyone else, so I go on a hike on some trail that I saw nearby only to turn around an hour into it because I got scared like a little b!tch when I saw a snake. I'm such a girl... But finally, everyone's up and we head out to the beach party which was colorfully advertised to me by the inviting members as ten blocks of drunken hot white chick fun. Man... talk about false advertising!!!! You couldn't drink on the street and all the bars were packed. But somehow we managed to make a beer run and kick it on the beach for a while. However, this is when, for the second time, I get man-handled by Lisa as she knocks me down and gets sand all over me. At this point I'm thinking, "Oh!!!! It's on now girl!!!! You gonna get it!!!!" But then I think, "Man, this girl can probably kick my @ss. And I haven't been beat by a woman... well at least not without having paid for it first." So I let that go...
Evening comes and I'm ready to get my drank on. It's already been predetermined in my head that I'm going to get tossed and get out of hand. So we head out to some club in the Gas Lamp district called On Broadway. It looked like some club out of a movie. Very pretty indeed.
As we're eating dinner, Eugene (one of the guys I met the night before) and I decide we're going to take shots of Jager. He was probably thinking, "One or two shots, and I'll be good." But I was thinking, "I'm going to finish that whole bottle before I leave this joint!" Of course the night goes on, and I'm drunk as hell doing my booty shaking Prince dance. Everyone's laughing at me as I make a fool out of myself. So far it's still my typical night out...
...Skipping ahead here, we're driving home and we're about to drop off Eugene when he gets out of the car he's riding in and starts throwing up on the street. And here I thought he seemed totally cool in the club. So my buddy Jason and I get out of my car and we do what any good friends would do.... We heckle him...
Me: "Haha... I thought you could handle your alcohol?!?!"
Jason: "Haha..." *taking pictures*
Eugene: "blah!!!!!" *throwing up*
Me: "Haha... Whoa... there were some chunks in that one!"
Jason: "Haha..." *still taking pictures*
Eugene: "You bastar.... blah!!!!"
Me: "Haha..."
This goes on for it bit, until he starts to feel better and heads inside. The other guys tell me he threw up in the car, so we try and do the sensible thing and clean it up. When here comes Eugene, no longer wearing his pants, and with a bottle of Simple Green. He insists on cleaning up his mess which he does, but my stupid @ss is still ragging on him, so he jokingly sprays the Simple Green at me.... This is where things get hazy. I'm not sure what happened but I know I was in a lot of pain. It felt like my eyes were on fire. My friends had to drag me into a bathroom and rinsed out my eyes for who knows how long.
Luckily my eyes got better. But who would have thought Simple Green would be such an effective way of shutting up the stupid guy who talks too much crap. Lesson learned...
Although this still doesn't explain all the other injuries I've had while being in a drunken stupor. Of which, this is only a thirty minute show and we're all out of time so I can't really get into it. But I swear if any of you guys mention the tooth thing, I'll get crazy on you!!! Anyway, stay tuned for the next episode of "Stupid things Fobby does when he's drunk".
I'm such a tool...
Note to self: Whenever you get a chance to say something to a pretty girl, come up with something better than, "Uh... duh... thanks. Bye."
There isn't a day to where I tell myself, "Go for it!" Whatever it is! Work, relationships, life, it doesn't matter. I'm tired of all the excuses I've had in my life and I think in retrospect, comparing my failures to never beens. It feels better to know something didn't work out, than wondering if it would.
If you're curious to why I feel this way, then you should know my everyday life takes me to a grocery store on Mondays because I always cook dinner that night. And it just so happens, that there's this fairly attractive female working there, which for the life of me, I can never get the opportunity to say anything to her. (Coincidence I show up there on Mondays... I think not )
So anyway, here I am at the register checking out. Food and the girl... When the cashier starts up a conversation about me and my cooking. And she asked the hot girl what she thought, of course she responds, "Wow, you must cook really well?" And this is where I come out with all my smoothness.... In which I say: Please refer to beginning of blog for answer.
After that shameful attempt, I'm walking out of the grocery store kicking myself in the head for being so lame, when I think of my little motto, "Go for it!" So I start to tell myself, "You know what?!?! Next time I see her I'm just going to ask her out! I'm tired of being a tool..."
(And the moral of the story here is... When you say you're going to do something make sure you do it...)
...."Yeah! I can pick up on that girl! No problem!" And in this instance I actually feel better about myself. But only for an instance... Suddenly I hear a, "Hey! Wait! You forgot your meat. You need your meat right? " the hot girl says to me as she runs out to catch me. I'm startled at first but then I think "Alright! A second chance..." And as we're standing there, both waiting for me to say something, the only thing that comes out of my mouth is.... please refer to beginning of blog for answer.
I'm so pathetic!!!!!!! But hey, I shouldn't be mad. I guess I should look at this as just one of the few times a pretty girl will tell me "I forgot my meat." Man, is that the truth...
NHRA a.k.a. the Titanic
Just found out my boss put in her notice to quit. She'll be out of here in a month. She's probably the best boss I've ever had at any company I've ever worked for. But aside from I'm going to miss her, it's going to suck because there's many things here I take for granted.
For the most part, I'm generally half an hour late every day. I take minimum two hour lunches. And I'm on the internet all day writing crap like this or downloading pr0n... I mean music. Anyway, my job no matter how postal it may make me at times is still a pretty good job. But I have a feeling I'm going to get some new bastard who's going to crack the whip on us so hard....
New Boss: *Wha-pish* Work B!tches!!!! Say my name!"
Me: "Oh yes'um masta! Right a-way masta!"
This is gonna suck like a hooker on Sunset Blvd. Well you know what I mean...
Anyway, of lately, people have been leaving my company like it's going out of style. I feel like it's the Titanic and I'm one of those poor schmucks who got locked below deck. Well F-that! I'm not going down with the ship.
"Don't ever let go Jack"
"Screw you Rose! I'm outs. Peace..."
