Place Your Bets
As most of you know, I'm being deported next Tuesday along with my clone, to a long deserved vacation in Japan. We'll be eating, drinking, partying, sightseeing, shopping, spooning, and who knows what other activities ambiguously gay people do.
But the problem with this is, all that crap costs money! And since my side job of being an international hand model has not been as lucrative as I thought it would be.
Photographer: "Alright Fobio, I need you to hold your hands up in the shocker and punisher positions..."
Fobio: "Fobio doesn't do such positions. Fobio's pinky is too pretty to go up a dukie shoot. See! Smell them..."
So to hopefully help make some money to cover the costs of my trip, I'll be taking bets on my clone Jason (aka Bolo, Jwang, Chi Chi, Cranium, Iron Jay, Silver Dollar Jay, etc.), and what kind of play he'll get in Japan. Whether it be a kiss, a number or email, perhaps some road head, sit on face action, or even dirty rotten porno sex. Hell, I'll even take bets to see if he brings back a wife... or husband...
Now for those who don't know him, let me tell you what he's like. For starters, there's a reason why I call him my clone. It's because he's very similar to myself except his piece isn't nine and half flaccid. But other than that he's about 5'9, Chinese, buff, and looks like someone who just got off the boat and went straight to Urban Outfitters. He's also equally as gay/metro as I am. You can put our closets together and find enough apparel to clothe a small nation. I'd say he's pretty sociable too so I think initiating conversation with these J-pop girls won't be a problem. What comes out of his mouth is another story though. I can barely understand him when he speaks English, so who knows how well it's going to go over with the Japanese.
So there you have it. Who's in? I'm thinking 3 to 1 on the email and number, and then up an odd from that. What do you say? Or you can name your own terms for your bets. The house is open.
A Day in the Life of a Metro
You know it's not easy being half gay. There's responsibilities we have, to maintain our metro status or else if neglected, they take away our metro card. And I'm not talking about my bus pass. I'm talking about our get out of manual labor card. Or our free porking pass when trying to be noticed amongst regular males.
But these are just the benefits. Looking this gay isn't easy. Well I guess it's easy when you're really gay. But when you're straight and just trying to look gay it becomes 10x more difficult. I don't know maybe it has something to do with the butt love.
Anyway, there's a standard of living that is required with this title. We have to be knowledgeable of certain topics that most guys would normally never hear of. For instance, when's the last time a regular guy went to a museum to check out the latest art exhibit? I'm guessing not since he last tried to bone the artsy-fartsy chick in his introduction to art class that he was forced to take in college.
Aside from knowing certain things, the most obvious of our duties lies within our appearance. And here clothing is not optional. It is a requirement. We have to keep track of the latest trends. If Hollywood says we should be wearing jock straps over our faces because it's cool, then damn it, give me a man thong so I can sniff the hell out of it!!!
But our appearance doesn't stop at clothing. And this is where I'm extra bitter right now. We have to have extra special hair styles. I can't exactly walk into a barber shop and ask for a fade. Nope, we have to grow it longer than your average male and get it styled with "product" instead of gel or hairspray.
The reason why I'm bitter today is because naturally I have a fro. Well not really a fro, more like I have pubes growing out of my head. It isn't pretty. So to prevent the nut sack head look, I regularly straighten my hair to make it look presentable by metro standards. Of course the usual chemicals I use are out of stock this week so I buy this other shit that burned a hole right through my skull. It hurt like a mo-fo. So here I am at work. Forehead and scalp with 3rd degree burns. I look like leprosy kicked my ass.
And this is where I stand. Hair looks good. Face looks like shit. And you're probably thinking, "So how is that different then any other day?" And I say on to you... well, um... something bad. I can't think of anything right now. It'll probably involve the words "Sit on face" and "F-U mother bitches!"
Samurai vs. Ninja
Yup, that's right. I still have way too much time on my hands. So here's my next article at Nozomi Online.
http://www.nozomionline.com/entertainment/samuraisvsninjas.html
My Sassy... White Girl?
Damn you Hollywood for stealing that what is still interesting to me. Why can't you let me enjoy my fobness in private? Why do you have to bring it over and mainstream things?
I just recently found out that my favorite Asian movie is being re-made into an American movie. 'My Sassy Girl', a Korean romantic comedy, is about this guy who meets a feisty girl, and has to jump through a bunch of hoops just to be with her. It's funny as hell and very romantic.
But what I don't get is how they can translate the story to fit a U.S. audience. I mean the whole point of the movie is that it's highly irregular to find an outgoing, blunt, openly offensive girl in the Korean culture. But here, you find that more often than not. You might as well just call it, 'My typical bitch'.
So who knows. I'm on the fence about this. But one thing that does interest me, is who they supposedly casted to play the main character. Rachael Leigh Cook. She is one hot piece of... Well lets just say I've been a big fan of her since I saw 'She's all that'. And I can kind of picture her playing this role. So perhaps this movie has potential.
And to be honest, I'm kind of upset that I haven't worked on converting some of the asian films and animes I've seen into possible American films. I've seen things that I think will make excellent American adaptations. In fact, I'm attempting to try and write one based on a particular anime. But that's a whole other story of why I'm a no talent idiot...
That and well most re-makes are never as good as the original. No matter what, there will always be a comparison. And the general consensus is usually that in favor of the first. Just like when I took a lot of criticism for writing that re-make, "Finding Emo'.
Fish1: "Oh my God! Where's Emo? He was just here a second ago!"
Emo: "AAAAAhhhhh!!!! This sucks! You fish will never understand the things I have to go through! You now what it's like having these white stripes?!?! I HATE IT! I HATE YOU ALL! LIFE SUCKS!!!"
Fish2: "Um... I hear him over there..."
How to get laid in Japan
http://www.myxxxblog.com/pages/jokes/laidguide.html
Fob: "Ladies!!!! Excuse me can you tell me where the high school girls are? My friend's looking to spend a night in a Japanese prison."
School girls: "Hehehe... You arrerican?"
Fob: "Oh you likes huh? My friend love you long time..."
School girls: "Hehehe...."
I thought I had it all planned out. It was going to be a shady operation just like when I went to Vegas to get those massages. But in light of recent information I may have to rework my plan.
If you haven't heard, in three weeks I'll be officially on vacation and on my way to foreign booty in the land of the rising sun, Japan. But I've been there done that. The international pimp trip was done many years ago and this time I'm really more interested in the sight seeing. But that's me.
This trip I won't be going alone. My heterosexual life partner has decided he needs a break from the corporate bullshit too and has decided to come along for the party. But he's never been to Japan. And like any guy who travels to a foreign country for the first time, he wants to test his game in fresh waters. Who can blame him...
So I figure as the ambassador to asian poon, I was going to give him a heads up on what to do. But one of my good buddies has saved me the trouble and forwarded me a blog on how to get laid in Japan. Hopefully, my HLP will not F-it up and end up masturbating in a hot spring to 70 year old fobs. That's my job. I dig the cougars.
A Different State of Mind
Talking to me sober:
You: "Hey, how's it going Fob?"
Me: "Pretty good. I've been really busy with work and stuff but I'm getting by."
Talking to me when I'm drunk:
You: "Hey, how's it going Fob?"
Me: "Shut your face, you piece of hate! Haha... I'm just playin'. *grabs yours ass* You're cute. *doesn't matter if you're a guy or girl* I'd sit on your face if I didn't wet myself already..."
I wouldn't call myself Jekyll and Hyde. More like Popeye before and after his spinach. Haha... I guess that makes sense since I like my women like Olive Oyl. But if you've known me with and without alcohol then you've noticed there's a big difference in the way I act sober and under the influence.
Without alcohol I think I tend to always be half asleep. You can tell I'm a tired lazy bum. Which is why I'm pretty chill and relaxed most of the time. But you get that booze in me and for some reason I start to change. The heart starts to beat faster, my eyes open up, and that's when my mouth starts running. I say all kinds of crap that usually gets me an extremely ugly girl hanging on my arms, or my closest friends worried I might shoot them in a drunken rage.
I'd say most of the time I'm a happy drunk. I laugh like a little girl, smile a lot, and just make a lot of stupid jokes. But every once and while when there's a full moon and the stars are aligned, I turn into this inebriated prick who offends people. I say things without thinking things through. I guess that's why I lost that job as a beer taster.
Bartender: "Here's a dark lager. It's suppose to be crisp and clean. What do you think?"
Fob: *downs the whole thing* "Oh that's great bitch! I like how it makes you look a lot more attractive than what you really are. What's your name sexy?"
Bartender: "Yeah, um, are you okay? You passed out for two minutes in between those sentences."
Fob: "I'm good ho. Now get me another beer Coyote Ugly. My cup'eth run dry!"
Which is why I've been learning to moderate my alcohol intake. I can't drink too much or else I turn into a drunk bastard. And as I get older I realize that it's become unacceptable. So cheers to those who continue to drink with me. Let the good times roll. But my apologies if I end up slapping you like you're my bitch. Just know that I got much love for you... As long as you pay me on time I won't have to choke you.
I don't see nothing wrong...
...with a little bump and grind!
Sadly I didn't actually make it to hung over because I was shaking my ass all night long. But clubbing when you're a stupid drunk, you end up dancing with random chicks. Like who the hell are these chicks and why are they rubbing up against my junk? Not that I'm complain...
Do. Or do not. There is no try.
Fob: "Damn it Master Yoda! Why you always giving me shit?"
Yoda: "Weak you are in the force. Think you can. Lazy you are."
Fob: "Keep talking! I just might shove this light-saber up your kermit ass!"
Yoda: "If you must. Enjoy it, I will..."
Fob: "Ah forget it, I'm out of here. Princess Leia promised me a gold bikini lap dance."
Yoda: "Give up. That is why you failed."
Whatever teacher it was that told me I can be anything I want to be when I grow up was full of shit. Just because you want to do something doesn't mean it's within your means to do so. And how I know this? Well I thought I was more talented than what I really am.
My sleepless nights, when I can't stop thinking about how poor I am, I figure, "Why stay up thinking about this crap? I might as well be productive." So I turn my attention to the million art projects that I'm working on but never finish. And recently I started thinking of something new. Something that I thought I had a good idea for. A musical... I don't want to go into detail but it's a movie musical.
So the next day I go to work and pitch this idea to a coworker who's been really good about explaining to me on how to go about making these things happen. He tells me, "You F-ing idiot! You can't do that! You're too stupid!" And then he slaps me and drives to my parents house to slap them too for having me.
Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. But basically, doing a musical is a lot harder than what I realized. Aside from writing a good script, you have to compose music, write lyrics, choreograph dance routines, and sleep with all kinds of production assistants. It's a lot of work. And whether I'm up for that kind of work doesn't matter because I'm just not knowledgeable enough to do this.
So here I am. Crying in the corner. Beaten by the skills I don't have. Just like that time I thought I could beat Steven Seagal in thumb wrestling.
Steven & Fobby together: "One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war!"
*breaks Fobby's arm off and throws him through a wall*
Fobby: "Ouch man! That hurt. Stop cheating!"
Steven: "That's for not watching Out For Justice."
Fobby: "Is that the one with the Jamaican dudes?"
Steven: "No that's Marked for Death. Out for Justice was when I was a cop hunting those Italian mafia guys."
Fobby: "Oh yeah. And then they take over your ship and you use your navy seal skills to kill them."
Steven: "No that's Under Siege... F-it. Nevermind..." *snaps fobby's neck*
