Ghetto FOBulous

Holy Crap!

2010-09-08T11:43:00.000-07:00

I forgot I had this thing. Man it's been a long time. I guess I don't have as much to say now and days. Life has beaten the opinions out of me. I'll see if I can come up with new stuff.

I'm not a Designer. I just play one on TV.

2008-07-28T14:15:00.001-07:00

I just had an epiphany. Okay, that’s not true. I don’t even know what that means. For all I know, it could be a style of jewelry.

But in my dumb dumb vocabulary translation, I’ve come to realize something. I suck.

Now before all of you go and agree with me before I even finish...

Scenario 1: “Yeah, Fob you do suck. You are the most unreliable friend I have...”

Scenario 2: “True. You’re such a dirty ho. I don’t know how any girl can trust you...”

Scenario 3: “You do. I’ve never seen anyone get a C- on a HIV test...”

Scenario 4: “Oh! Yeah! Keep sucking my...”

Let me speak! Or write! Whatever!!! You see I’ve been a working professional for eight years now as a graphic designer. Straight out of college I started working. Sure, at first, I was pretty green. Didn’t know how to turn on my computer or even know which person to sleep with to move up the corporate ladder.

But in the past couple of years I learned a few skills, gained a lot of confidence, put out more than my ass can handle, and have become delusional in my work abilities. Because the truth is I suck.

Being the big fish in a small pond has distorted reality around me. Here I was thinking I was good when the truth is I’m a second rate hack. It’s hit me like a ton of big pixellated, motion blurred, drop shadowed bricks.

So what do I do? School? Freelance? See if my corner is still available on Sunset and Highland? It’s hard as Hades to find another job right now. And I’m not exactly the most marketable person. So what should I do to advance myself aside from going back to being a street walker?

Did someone say... Design Hooker?!?!

Fob: “5 dolla’ make ya haller! For 50 bucks I offer strategic planning in branding,

print, web design, and electronic media.”

I’m screwed... Literally!

Where's my Olsen Twin?

2008-07-15T15:07:00.000-07:00

I’m sweaty. Tired. And sore. And better yet, I’m all of these at work. The good news, it won’t affect my promotion. The bad news, I’m more likely to get fired or demoted anyway. I’m sure they’d move me into a fluffer or whipping boy position if they had one. So my whole thing with being offensive aromatically is my way of getting back at them. Not that anyone cares. So sad...

Still, today I feel somewhat accomplished. I arrived at work environmentally friendly. Today was the first day I rode my bike into work. That’s right ladies and gentlemen. Tour de South Bay started this morning as I was awake much earlier cruising along with the ocean breeze in my face, cycling my way to work.

Today I am a do-gooder of nature. Damn you oil companies! Damn you terrorists! Damn you cool sail looking hotel in Dubai!!! For I will not contribute to your extravagant lifestyle. Nevermind, that I drive an SUV and rev my engine wasting fuel and adding pollution just because I like the way it sounds. I am now a professional cyclist! Lance Armstrong and I are now one of a kind.

So I’m ready for my benefits. I’m not quite sure on this but I heard one of the perks of not polluting the environment was getting your very own Olsen twin.

I don’t know which one he has and which one is available but if I ge to pick, I’ll take the one that’s anorexic. It’ll save me the trouble of making her feel bad about getting fat.

Me: “Hey.. Mary-Kate Ashley Christina Jessica Ronnie Bobby Ricky Mike. You look different. Is that only three ribs I can count on you? Hmm... Yesterday I was able to count four ribs.”

Olsen Twin: “Really?!?! Excuse me. I have to use the restroom...”

I knew it!!!

2008-06-19T11:31:00.001-07:00

http://dating.personals.yahoo.com/singles/datingtips/85132/she-says-vs-he-says-whats-height-got-to-do-with-love;_ylc=X3oDMTVlbzIxbWZoBF9HA3BlcnNvbmFscwRfUwMyNzE2MTQ5BF9zAzIwMjMyNjkyNjUEawNTaGUgU2F5cyB2cy4gSGUgU2F5czogV2hhdCYjMzk7cyBIZWlnaHQgR290IHRvIERvIFdpdGggTG92ZQRzZWMDZnBfdG9kYXkEc2xrA3NoZS1zYXlzLXZzLWhlLXNheXMtd2hhdHMtaGVpZ2h0LWdvdC10by1kby13aXRoLWxvdmUEenoDYQ--

Lies I tell you. I knew you Amazon women didn't like us Hobbits. I'm tempted to punch a tall chick in the knee...

Bringing this blog back and seeing this article, it reminded me of when I wrote about being a midget in a sea of giants. It's become more so with where I live. Either that or I've gotten shorter. But I think it has more to do with living closer to the ocean. The good weather does wonders with health. I can only imagine how tall I'd be if I grew up with it.

Maybe I'd be tall enough to go on that ride at Magic Mountain. Or perhaps I still wouldn't have to drive my car while sitting in a baby seat. Man! What's a short brother got to do to get some love around here!!!

I'm back...

2008-06-05T14:31:00.000-07:00

Per request, this is my attempt to write something of interest for those of you curious about my daily life. Are things as exciting as it was a few years ago? Definitely not. Am I drinking like a fat guy at a buffet? Certainly not. Are my poops as painful as before? Well, not everything changes...

Old friend: "Hey Fob, how you been man? It's been a while."

Fob: "Speak louder! I don't have my hearing aid. Who is this? Jehovah's Witness?"

Old friend: "No! It's 'so-and-so'. What's new?"

Fob: "Oh, hey there. Well if you must know. My back hurts, I'm fat now, I'm high on Viagra, and I pooped my pants."

Old friend: "Okay... Well take care. Bye."

So I'm back. Life's quite different now. My situation isn't where it was two or three ago but that's not really the most notable difference. I'd say it's more the people around me. They've changed. They've matured!

I know! What's up with that crap? Whatever happened to getting drunk, running around in circles, and then falling over and breaking something? Ah... the good ol' days. Now it's like: "I got to take care of the kids." "My mortgage is killing me." "What do you mean there's a tumor on my left testicle?"

Adulthood. Work and family take precedence over booze and hookers. Well, at least that's what my responsible friends tell me. I think it's not right to leave hookers hanging like that, but that's another story. The days of partying are coming to a close.

Now, the people close to me are married, having kids, making house payments. It just puts things into perspective. Which is where my thoughts are today...

I guess I can get married now because gay people won the vote. And those kids who were calling me daddy. I wonder how long they waited for me at the airport. And why does a home invasion sound so reasonable now and days. Beats making payments!

Ah... being grown up is swell...

Office Restroom Etiquette

2007-01-08T08:55:00.000-08:00

Come on! You think other people don't notice? How ignorant do you have to be to think, "Well no one is directly looking at me so I'm going to skip that step."

Or those strange noises coming from within your stall. Yes, we all notice that. And like the bunch of little school girls that we are, we gossip about it.

Fob: "Have you ever heard $@#% making these noises?"
Coworker: "Yeah! What the hell is that? I've had to use the toilet after him and it seemed like he was trying to put out a fire."

These are just some of the things one would notice when not given enough work. You tend to wander and be focused on things that do not really pertain to your job.

But because of my unique diet of eating and drinking certain things that make me drop a higher amount of deuces and urinate like my nuts are going explode, I tend to be in the restroom often. And by being in there frequently, I often become aware of the tendencies certain coworkers have.

For instance, there is a surprising large number of coworkers that I refuse to shake hands with. Why? Well I know where that hands have been and when they should have been washed.

Another thing I find to be dirty, I blame their mothers. But we don't need any surprise gifts left in the toilet after you use it. I don't jump up in glee when I find a toilet with a log in it, nor when it is pre-made lemonade color. I'm just not that kind of guy who appreciates these kinds of presents.

Although these behaviors I don't condone, I do understand. The weirdest thing which to this day still puzzles me is the slapping noises a certain coworker makes when using the stalls. I mean, that's just not normal. Either he's spanking it or furiously fighting to tap that last drop out of his tool. But whatever it is, I know it's not good for his health or his career. Because I know most people refuse physical contact with him.

So beware your actions in the head. If you forget to wash or flush, or you just insist on playing with yourself while on the clock. Big brother is watching.... Well, not watching. I'm not spying on anyone or anything like that. Really... I'm not.

Happy my liver didn't explode year

2007-01-02T10:53:00.000-08:00

I don't know if this is more of a celebration of the coming year or surviving the last. But I treat New Years Eve as more of the ending of a year than the beginning of a new one.

Sure, compared to some of my friends whose blood consists of Patron, Old English, Bud Light, and the charcoal filtered vodka from Albertsons, it may seem like I don't drink that much to worry about liver and kidney issues at this age. But to your average human being, or at least my coworkers who pretty much don't enjoy passing out in the gutter, they tend to think I drink more than I should.

It's probably because I come in to work claiming about back pains after drinking which supposedly are not back pains but kidney or liver pains. It seems those organs are struggling to filter out all the crap I consume.

So this New Years Eve I feel especially proud of myself. My liver didn't explode! I still have both my kidneys! Yea! And I still had a good time...

Which is why for the new year I think I do need to make a resolution. And not like those "resolutionists" who show up at my gym in the coming month who hog up all the spots and then give up after a few weeks. I think for the sake of my health I need to drink less.

Aside from that, I need to try harder to be more of what I want to be, and try harder at not becoming what I used to be. Thinking back on the choices I've made, when I was the tool, the abused, the bitch, I don't want to let myself resort back to the person I was. Nor am I okay with where I am at now. I have to better myself.

My only advice, "Work harder Fobby! Be smarter! Be more creative! Sit on their faces..."

A Day of Rest

2006-12-29T10:31:00.000-08:00

Slowly, I'm realizing it now. The days of going out, getting extremely drunk, and slappin' bitches is fading away. Hence, part of the reason why I barely write in here now and days. Obviously, it's mostly because I have nothing to write about. I mean, what's so exciting about, "So today I went to work and was disgruntle like everyone else..."

It's just not that exciting talking about work unless you happen to be a prostitute; which I enjoy reading about, or a professional Fluffer. That, I'm not that knowledgeable. Seriously, I'm not...

But in an attempt to not be so boring anymore these past couple of weeks, I've been out every night doing what my liver loves best. Drowning in Johnnie. Ah, what a good feeling! Letting the cold smooth fluid hit my lips, it's better than... well, everything else.

So after a few weeks of drinking what do I have to report? Well, not much. One, I'm no longer invited to company Christmas parties. Apparently, getting hammered at a company function is frowned upon. And I thought the things I did were well behaved.

CEO: "Excuse me Fob, you might want to take it easy and slow down there."
Fob: "Yea.... no prob Mista President. But hey, why don't you stop being a little bitch and take a shot with me."
CEO: "I don't think that would be appropriate."
Fob: "Being a little bitch?"
CEO: "No Fob! Taking a shot."
Fob: "Look, drink or I'll take a shot. On your forehead!"

But sadly, I have not had anything good to report in a while. The only other thing going on with me is I've drank everyday for the past two weeks. And today is my day of rest where I can recover. And recovering is what I need. Because according to the gynecologists at my work, they say these pains I'm having are either kidney and/or liver problems due to excessive drinking.

What that means? I'm not sure. Most likely I'll have to replace my liver with a tin bucket to catch all the alcohol I consume. But hopefully this day of rest will turn into a week of rest. Because I haven't been in this much pain since the time I worked as the stripper pole at a gay bar.

Male stripper: "Stop moving around Fob. My g-string keeps getting stuck on your teeth."
Fob: "My bad. It's natural instinct for me to start biting at things when I get poked in the eye..."

We'll see how New Years goes...

The Truth

2006-11-28T10:50:00.000-08:00

Shut up already!

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/femail/article.html?in_article_id=419040&in_page_id=1879

Haha...

Grow up!

2006-11-22T15:39:00.000-08:00

Choices come in life. Should I eat a double-double with fries and a shake? Or a salad with light vinaigrette dressing? Should I go buy the latest seasonal clothing line from DKNY? Or buy some new equipment for my photography? Should I go out tonight, get drunk, freak some crazy club whore, and try and get some booty? Or stay home and save that money for my next investment?

I guess I tend to become overwhelmed with the general question, should I grow up and start becoming a responsible adult? Or should I continue to have fun and just be concerned with what makes me happy right now? This happens to me every time I see my family from the islands.

Contrary to popular opinion, I was not up in San Francisco this past weekend to get rammed by a giant gay black guy named Black Hammer. I was there visiting my cousin who's been checking out some grad schools here in the U.S. Spending time with my family is one of the most enjoyable things I do now and days. But on the other hand, every time I see them, I find out how well they're doing, and how driven they are to do even better!

Which comes back to my dumb ass. Instead of working on my craft, going back to school, or starting some new business on my own... I'm at home telling my roommate to give me a mohawk because I think it would be cool and funny. Sure, I get a few laughs out of it, and I probably look more the part of an artist. But it hit me this weekend, that when I'm around respectable, serious people, I look and act like a little kid who's fun to be around with, but has a lot of growing up to do.

So should I turn over a new leaf? I don't know. I'm constantly told that there's a good balance between being mature and responsible, and still going out having a good time. Where it is, I haven't figured that out yet. I guess I'll go think about it later. I'm late for happy hour...

And they said they were clean

2006-11-03T09:41:00.000-08:00

Coincidence? I think not. But for some reason, since I got back from the Philippines I've had E. Coli, the cold twice, and now the flu. And I think it's only been about a month since I've been back.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Well Fob, that's what you get for sleeping with an eight year old little boy who did tricks with fried lumpia..." And to you I say, that only happens in Thailand!!! I couldn't find that in the Philippines...

But seriously, this trip I actually behaved. No candle wax on the natives. No love you long time. Basically, no fun for the Fobby. And still, I come back infected with the PI plague. What the heck?

Most likely my illnesses have nothing to do with the homeland, and more to do with the change in weather. It does sound like a medical ward here in the office with all the coughing and sneezing. But still, part of me thinks I got something there. From who or what? I have no idea. I just hope when I go back in January, there won't be a baby Fob calling me daddy. Because it sure is hard to get rid of those babies...

The Gospel, according to FOB

2006-10-24T12:23:00.000-07:00

A letter to the FOBilius from the Haterians,
"And so it came down from the heavens, those happy, eligible, and single shall not be without wench. For he who seeks a life without estrogen will be outcast as a penis lover or animal rapist. Lightning and thunder will shout throughout the heavens as tears of bu-di-sy juice will rain from the skies... For thou shalt not dost be maketh, unless hast proved to be thy good man, when thy hither to the poo-nany!!! For God will not have you be a caddish whore...

As so, the FOBilius responded,
And why, one free of the chains of female bondage is cast down as a donkey do'er? For insult me do I not cry? Cut me do I not bleed? Yes, likely I will rape thee out of spite. But that is the will of nature. Just as God intended a lilly to spread it's seed, so shalt I. For I am but one man to thole the needs of the gender and do upon those what is done on the nature channel. Whence camest thou? Be cast back to how nature intended and not be tied to the bonds of man. For I will not be tied down by a woman until thou bringeth, and return my rib which was stolen from me.

The Devil's mark

2006-10-04T10:40:00.000-07:00

I knew one day, the sins of the past would catch up to me. Going house to house coveting all my neighbors wives over and over again, sometimes multiple times in one night. I was doing his evil deeds...

Bad karma will eventually catch up to you and leave you scarred naked in the gutter with an eternal mark to show... "I'm a bad, bad man..."

Being a pawn of evil, I'm no different. I was recently given the mark. The sign that says, "Will work for naughty spankings..." which has been burnt into my skin as...

SATAN'S HAND JOB!!!

Yes. Ol' Lucifer decided to use his mystical satanic ways to use burning hot oil and nut all over my arm. A scar that will most likely be carried with me the rest of my life, or until I get really drunk and somehow get my arm chopped off. Which ever one first!

But still, I am lucky. If I hadn't used my arm to shield myself I would have been stuck with SATAN'S FACIAL! And that's just not fun unless it's the real thing...

What happened to my whores???

2006-09-27T14:17:00.000-07:00

You know you're gone from the blog scene for a while and next thing you know your whores run off and stop posting. I think for sure I'm gonna have to choke a bitch. I mean, what am I suppose to do at work now to pass the time now that I can't read those prostitute blogs? Do work? F-that! These hands are too pretty for manual labor. Or any labor for that matter...

Sadly though that's not the case. So here's the update. The reason I've been gone for so long is a couple of things. One, I went on my bi-annual boat/river trip with my yellow friends. I know we don't belong anywhere near water unless we're fishing with a big net but at least we didn't show up with dress shoes and slacks like some other asians do when they go to the beach. Still we get these looks from the white folks, "I'm tired of these mother F'ing fobs, on this mother F'ing lake." But anyway, this is something I'm happy to report. For the first time in all these river trips I didn't get hurt or cry. Someone else picked up those honors for me. Thanks Whitey!

Another reason why I've been gone is my grandmother passed away a few weeks ago. So I was in the Philippines visiting family and attending her funeral. God rest her soul. She was an awesome Lola who once told me she'd threaten to haunt me as a ghost if I ever became a police officer. So I guess she wins. Because I'm not a cop. But I'll miss her a lot...

Which brings me to my return to the states. Apparently I picked up all kinds of diseases when I was there. And those bitches told me they were clean... Haha... I'm just kidding. I don't have any STDs. The doctor who gave me an oral prostate exam said so. But seriously, in my week stay in the islands I managed to get a severe cold, my arm got swollen from a cockroach bite that required me to go to the ER, and I got a strand of E. Coli that tore up my exit hole for weeks. And I'm not talking about my regular mad poo-poo. This crap was furious! It would come out kicking and scratching the sides of my a-hole the whole way out. Thankfully, I've recovered from all the above. My butt cheeks are on the side of my legs now. But other than that, I'm all normal.

I guess with all these things happening, I still technically could have wrote something. But I guess all my writing ability has gone to my side projects that I'm working on with a coworker. Can I write a semi-entertaining blog? Sure. Can I write a legit screenplay? Probably not. But still, I continue to lie to myself and my buddy who's working with me. We continue to push on! And to tell you the truth it's actually fun. Especially when I have no money to go out, this is the only way to enjoy myself.

So there you have it. I wasn't completely lazy or dodging you all. Well maybe some of you. But you know who you are because I never return your calls. Unless of course I see you. Then my phone was broken. Anyway, I'll try to start this up again. Just hang out with me and make sure I do something stupid that I can write about. But I don't know who's baby that is, and he doesn't look like me!!! Peace.

The Raider Fairy-tale

2006-08-01T09:42:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time there lived a cute little puppy named Raider.

He hung out in the land of the Manhattan, playing and sleeping, and then playing again. He had good friends who adored his company and together they lived very happily. These were happy times...

Until one day Raider dropped a deuce in front of his friend's door and got kicked in his face!!!

They deep fried his ass, ate him for dinner that night and lived happily ever after. The end!

What the hell was that?

2006-07-31T16:46:00.000-07:00

It's a given that if you live in California you spend a good amount time driving in your automobile. And the more you drive, the more crap you see. For example, I never thought I'd see one car physically on top of another. But then what do you know?!?! There it is on the 105. A mean accident with a big ass truck crushing a tiny Corolla. Crap like that doesn't surprise me anymore. I wouldn't even think twice if something similar happened.

But every so often I come across weird Twilight Zone instances where I'm driving late at night and am not to sure of what I just drove by and saw. I mean, it is me after all. I never sleep enough. I drink too much. And I know the truth. I'm Asian. That lowers my credibility enough right there. By default I don't belong on the road anyway.

Anyway, so here I am on my regular Sunday night drive back to my place from my parents being like every other commuter. And just as I said, I've seen, ran over, dodged, or hit almost everything. Possums, cats, babies... You name it. It's been under my tires.

Until the 60 to 605 interchange comes up. I'm on the curve driving relatively sane when I quickly have to swerve out of the way because of some object that if my eyes didn't deceive me, looked something like a wheel barrel filled with hay. I thought to myself, "Nah, that couldn't be. You only find that shit on farms." And as I proceed further down the freeway, I see four guys jump out of the back of a beat down pick up truck wearing overalls, looking very well corn fed, start to run back for their missing wheel barrel.

Well what do you know! Now that's just damn weird. For here at least. I guess what I'm trying to say is, you never know what you're going to see when you drive in California. I would have preferred seeing a big busty lady jump out of a Mini Cooper with 12 clowns doing cartwheels. But you know, we don't pick the weird shit that happens to us.

I sure do know a lot of dick

2006-07-25T09:24:00.000-07:00

Fob: "Hey fellas, bukake anyone?
Friend: "But don't we need at least one chick?"
Fob: "Ah crap! Well I was the chick last time..."

Just like a successful movie, my roommates and I tried to follow up our last party with a sequel this past weekend. But like most sequels, it just wasn't as good as the first. Why? Well, I contribute it to two things.

1. L.A. is having end of the world weather. Now I've been living here in this smoggy, over-crowded, usually dry heat city for my whole life. And never have I experienced this kind of humidity, seen thunder and lightning storms, and poured rain in 85 degree weather. Basically, it was hot as hell. You couldn't be inside my house and not have your nuts sweat glued to your legs. It's just not pleasant. So most of the people who came loitered outside.

2. And the second reason, most of the people attending this time around were my friends. Which is to say I sure do know a lot of dick. But don't get me wrong. These guys are my friends. And we kick it sometimes having no problem with the sword fight get-togethers. But this party was the Braveheart battle of sword fights. There was so much sausage in my house I thought we were in Germany, minus Heidi Klum.

So the result. A bunch of hot sweaty men drinking and being jolly in tropical storm weather. Hallelujah, it's raining men! Hallelujah!

Caught In A Net

2006-07-14T15:19:00.000-07:00

"I got caught in a net..."

If you're a fan of "Lost" then you'll know what I'm talking about. And sadly, this time I'm not talking about myself. It just so happens 75% of the residents I live with have been caught in a net in the past 24 hours.

Am I bitter? Not really. It's nice to hear my roommates are doing well. And it's not that I'm listening. Believe me, my radio is up all the way to avoid hearing something I shouldn't. But should I be bitter? Probably so... The drought that's been going on in my life is not due to environmental factors or a lack in ability. I'd say it's more a choice in allocating funds. Being, I have no funds so I can only spend on crap I need. And right now, I'm just not hurting for it.

But who knows. Maybe the adult sound show constantly going on in my household will change my needs. Getting caught in a net may be more important... than say... food.

Fob: "Man, I'm so hungry..."
Fob's Penis: "Dude, so am I..."
Fob: "Lets get something to eat. Burgers?"
Fob's Penis: "Nah... I was thinking some cat fish..."

Winner: Tequila

2006-07-05T15:55:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I went heads up against alcohol, well, maybe not for you readers. You can probably scroll back a blog or two and find me bitching and whining about how I'm going to give up the sauce and commit my life to the starving children of the world, or maybe something more selfish like masturbate 24/7. But anyway, for me, it's been a long while since I've gotten my ass kicked this bad by the bottle.

This past weekend was extra special because it was four days long due to the American Rebellion, or Independence Day depending on who's side you're on. Thankfully I got some much needed time off from the grind to do what? How do I celebrate? By throwing up all over my house.

I come back to the Hate to find the guys prepping to pass out. There on the table sits two lovely bottles of Tequila 1800. I think to myself, "Alright. I'm officially on vacation. I can have a couple of shots."

Later that night, we're two bottles deep and I'm starting to run my mouth saying things that wouldn't make sense to a sober person when another buddy of mine shows up with a new bottle of Tequila. By this point, it would have been smart for me to go home because God knows I won't refuse more alcohol. I continue to take more shots yelling things most people wouldn't put up with, slapping my friends and calling them my bitches, and spilling my beer chaser then saying, "Hey asshole stop moving the ground! You keep spilling my drink. Now pour me, you piece of hate!"

And just like every other night like this, I can't say I remember the rest. But my butt wasn't violated and I still had some money in my wallet so it couldn't have been that bad. Violating wise... As for health wise, I don't think I've thrown up as much as I did since I was 21. I threw up in the kitchen sink, the shower, the toilet, the bathroom sink, three different trash cans, and a little spray on the floor to where I found myself the next morning.

It was terrible. And I felt like absolute shit. Not only was my head pounding but my innards which were strategically thrown up throughout my house made it smell like a dirty sock dipped in year old blue cheese. It was nasty.

So the lesson today children is... um... You know I can't say anything and really mean it. Well, I guess, drink on! Just don't throw up so much. And be careful when taking on Tequila. Easy huh?

Five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes...

2006-06-26T14:06:00.000-07:00

Okay, so considering this hot humid weather, this isn't exactly Seasons of Love. But I just saw the movie Rent last night and it got me thinking about how much I really didn't appreciate the musical. Probably because Doogie Howser was playing the lead... but anyway, aside from the good music the movie brings up a good point about the dynamic of a group of friends.

At first I thought it was don't kill the gay guy because he's the life of the party and no one will be happy once he's gone. But given more thought, I think the story of Rent shows that even though friends bicker and fight with each other, they're still friends in the end... no matter how F-ed up they are personally.

What's weird is that same day, I had lunch with two friends who said we need some new people in the group. Some new blood. Fresh meat. And considering all the sausage we have already, people with vaginal capabilities. I guess basically that even though we're all friends, most of us annoy the hell out of each other.

So here's my attempt at a solution. Read on...

http://losangeles.craigslist.org/sgv/stp/175709617.html

La La La La...

2006-06-22T15:16:00.000-07:00

I wasn't as fortunate as most of the kids I grew up with. Most of them had parents who supported them and told them they're capable of anything. My parents on the other hand were too busy beating me down for getting a B+ on that math quiz or missing the shot in the big soccer game. I tried a lot of different things, kids should do but since I was never the best, my parents' non-direct statements of, "You big fat loser! I want a blood test to see if you're really my son...” kind of had a negative effect on me.

So here I am two decades or so later. I've become a cocky asshole when it comes to certain attributes my parents couldn't beat out of me like video games and... Well that's all I can think of right now. But seeing where my life and career have been heading in the past five years, I've been trying to get better in the arts. Specifically this time, my current creative projects have forced me to write lyrics for a couple of songs.

Why you ask? Well I can't say just yet because I don't want to jinx this project. Usually I start crap and never finish it because 1) I'm too damn lazy and would rather drink myself stupid with my friends and get shot down by some chick who would look incredibly unattractive under regular daytime sunlight, or 2) The tears of failure and insecurity that my parents have embedded into my way of thinking have made it very hard to see my screen and see what I'm typing.

So yeah, don't ask unless I've told you already. Sssshhh! So anyway, this thing I'm working on has actually gone further than anything else I've started so far. And I've come to a point to where I need write two songs. But not just any songs, they have to be tied into this theme. And right now I'm struggling. If you've been reading this blog, then you must already know I'm not exactly the smoothest person with words. Like last Saturday when I tried to say something to the hot chick at the gym.

Fob: *stares at hot chick in the corner for hours until finally having the courage to say something* "Um... so... w-w-w-will... I..."
Hot chick: "Excuse me!!!"
Fob: "S-s-s-s-orry... B-b-b-but w-w-w-will I be in y-y-y-your way if I work out h-h-h-here."
Hot chick: "No... go ahead" *finishes work out quickly and moves to other side of gym*
Fob: *finishes workout and goes home to cry himself to sleep*

It's not exactly radio DJ material if you know what I mean. I've always had a hard time picking my words whether it be spoken or written. Take for instance this blog entry. I actually started writing this entry 13 years ago and just finished spell checking it.

I'm just slow like that. And this is something not that serious. For me to even attempt to try and write lyrics for a song is very brave/stupid of me. So I may be in a delusional state and think I'm capable of such crazy things. But f*ck it! I might as well be a failure at as many talents as possible…

You're all still alive

2006-06-07T16:35:00.000-07:00

Haha... told you! Contrary to opinion, I am not the evil spawn of Satan. It's now 6-7-06 and as falsely predicted, all you jerks are still alive and I didn't rain hell on Earth.

And if you don't know what I'm talking about, then you probably don't know me very well but I'll explain anyway. My friends, roommates, and small countries seem to think I'm the evil omen, devil child that was suppose wreck havoc killing me people, raping horses, and crash the internet.

But seeing as everything is still around, and I'm still stuck in this shitty cube at work listening to my boss tell me how much a moron I am, that I am not the son of Satan. Yeah, I'm a jerk. I've kicked a few puppies and stolen candy from mentally challenged kids. But I'm not pure evil.

And as proof, I'll be at church this whole weekend! Yup it's time for my annual appearance. Our church fair, the only time they let me in. Of course it's only for manual labor but hey, I can't complain. I'm just hoping the holy water doesn't burn my skin this time.

You Come Here!

2006-06-05T12:08:00.000-07:00

Why? Why you ask?!?!

Because my nuts were a mess this past weekend. It was hotter than hell in SoCal and knowing my dumb ass, I decide to head inland and bake my nuts to a crisp.

What do ya know! It's a 100 degrees and my family decides they don't need the AC on. And that's when my panties get all moist. But I'm not talking about the good kind of moist. Where you see a hot piece of ass that you wouldn't mind tappin'. Yeah sure, the girl next to him isn't that bad either.... But anyway, really hot to where my nuts were a sweating bullets.

So since I don't know any girls who'd date me, I don't have to worry about any potential females reading this nasty blog. But the rest of you bastards can come visit me from now on at the beach. We can chill, do nothing, drink beer, and watch girls in bikinis go rollerblading down the pier. Who's in?

What the hell Yellow People?

2006-06-01T15:23:00.000-07:00

Certain things I've come to accept. Well, maybe not accept. More like my soul and spirit has been beaten and I've lost all hope. But there's other things. Things that I think at the time, "Oh come on! You can't be that fresh off the boat?!?!" And although these things are completely retarded and constantly happening, I still tend to be surprised each time I see an Asian person do something that should get them deported.

Again, I'm not talking about your average stupid Asian things. For example we all know their bad drivers. That's a given. I've come to accept eyes half closed are meant only to view things their hands can touch. Like a calculator for instance. But decide for yourself. Take an afternoon drive through Alhambra, CA and if after 15 minutes you're not ready to kill someone or looking at your airbag then more power to you. You must be a buddhist monk or have been married for a very, very long time. The force is strong with you.

Anyway, I'm talking about the new and improved things Asians think of that'll get white people laughing at them. Like I'm sure you may not have seen this with your own eyes but may have heard rumors around the water cooler.

Chet: "Hey Sven. Bra, I was surfing down at Mosa when I saw the craziest thing yo!"
Sven: "Bro, what was it man? A black guy?"
Chet: "Nah... dude. Did I say Africa???"
Chet & Sven: "Hahaha...."
Chet: "But fo-reals do... It was Orientals... At the beach... Wearing slacks with dress shoes!"
Chet & Sven: "Hahaha...."

Lets forget the fact that we're already pasty yellow. But come on! At least pretend you know how to dress when you go to the beach and wear jeans and flip flops. You're killing me Smalls!

But it gets worse. At least in my opinion it does. I was at the gym this weekend working out thinking, "Alright, at least I'm not going to see any Asians doing anything dumb here. We're too busy studying and playing video games to work on our physical appearance..." When what do you know? There's an Asian girl working out. In a dress and heels!!!! WTF???? I mean what do you say to that? The only thing I can think of, is it hurts my soul and every time I see a Yellow person do something that puts us as a whole to shame, I cry a little bit inside. *tear*

Life Accustomed

2006-05-22T12:34:00.000-07:00

Alright, so it's not so bad. Maybe I was prejudice towards the environment. The crowd here isn't what I'm used to. The things to do and see are different as well.

Yeah, there's all kinds of traffic like how it is in H-town but it's a different kind. Here, there's more drivers hence more traffic. There, it's less drivers but they're the annoying asian bad drivers which if I could, I'd certainly let road rage take over and blast a few shells their way. But I'm not that disgruntle yet so that hasn't been done. Or at least it can't be proven...

But living out by the beach isn't so bad. In fact, I'm really starting to enjoy it. Life here is something I can adapt to.

It has it's obvious pluses. The most obvious being the weather. Although it's been shitty throughout So Cal lately, I know in the coming months when summer takes over and the sun throws up on us, it'll pay to be close to the beach feeling that cool sea breeze.

But I don't think it's necessarily the setting. More a change in mindset. Usually come the weekend I head back to the Heights to go hang out with my family and see my fobby and ghetto friends. They're all out there and I know they're too damn lazy to drive 40 minutes to come see my ass unless there's a big party or I'm on my death bed.

Fob: *cough* ".... Hey... aaaaa.... you guys want to come over?"
Fob's friend: "Like now? Is there chicks there? You throwing a party?"
Fob: *heart stops* "No... But I think I'm dying..."
Fob's friend: "Oh... well maybe. I don't know. I think there's traffic on the 60."
Fob: "...."

So to keep my social life going, I'd head back home to hang out and do things. And now I've realized it's not that there's nothing to do out here and that I've got no one to hang out with. It's more because I wasn't truly accepting of living out here. I didn't really give it a chance. And that way of thinking is changing.

I know this now because come the weekend, I really don't feel like heading back. I'd much rather stay and shoot the shit with my roommates or call up some friends around here and head down to the pier to drink myself under the table.

Who knows... maybe it's temporary. But in either case, I feel like I'm finally getting used to living here.

The Chick Magnet

2006-05-17T11:05:00.000-07:00

Usually I don't mind the competition. In fact I tend to admire the physical qualities of an attractive male. But this guy! Standing next to him, I'll be lucky to even get noticed. And so it happens he's become my new roommate.

Watch out bitches! (And you female dogs too) Because Raider is out on the prowl! This cute little bastard automatically draws women to him. So what if his name is Raider and he's playing with a soccer ball? Pele was taken...

So the good and bad news. The good news is the owner, my roommate, has a woman. A very nice woman who helps me with my motherly duties around the house. So he can't use Raider to his full potential when it comes picking up the ladies. A skill I may call upon soon.

Hot girl: "Oh he's so cute!!!"
Fob: "Thanks, he is isn't he? I just shaved him."
Hot girl: "What's his name?"
Fob: "The little general..."
Hot girl: "That's kind of a weird name for the dog."
Fob: "Oh... you meant the dog!"

But the bad news, I'm Filipino. Which means you hand me some barbecue sauce and some wet naps and I got myself a tasty treat with this little guy. I know, I know. You're not suppose to eat dogs here in this country. But come on! Look at him. He probably taste like veal...

A Taste of Freedom

2006-05-15T12:11:00.000-07:00

I guess that's how it goes. You get old. You work a lot. You hang out with the family. Go to dinners with your friends. Play cards with the boys. And every now and then... When the stars are aligned and the Gods are being kind to you, you get to go out and party like you used to.

Well sort of. I mean come on, I'm in my late 20's now. I'm not saying stuff doesn't work anymore. It just doesn't work as good as it used to. And I'm not talking about the piping down there. That works fine. Do I use it as much as I'd like to? Probably not unless you count the times I nut on my roommates pillow for being loud and obnoxious all night long.

But I'm referring to the overall ability of my body to function properly. Drinking or being up late takes a toll on my ability to think straight. Or think at all the next day.

Fob: *still drunk* "Hey Moms! Happy birthday you hot son of a bitch!"
Fob's mom: "You mean Happy Mother's day right?"
Fob: "Yeah that too! Look, I'm really thirsty. Can you get me another beer?"
Fob's mom: "Are you drunk?"
Fob: "No, are you?!?!"
Fob's mom: "No!"
Fob: "Well then..."

Regardless of the following stupidity the next day, this past weekend was surprisingly fun. I was able to go out and party it up like I used to. Drinking, dancing, and not having to worry about my finances or other 'grown-up' type problems. It was a nice getaway.

Will I do it again in the near future? Well the best I can say is hopefully not. My body can't handle it anymore on a consistent basis. But I know the next time an opportunity comes up, partying will be just like how I treat my women. No means yes...

Prison huh? We'll see about that...

So long mid 20's

2006-05-04T15:14:00.000-07:00

Ah... the good ol' days. Having money to drink myself stupid all night long and wake up just fine for work the next day. And... well... the only other thing I can think of being in my mid 20's that's good is getting a break on a rental car. But yeah, the drunk one is nice.

Anyway, as of the past week I am now officially in my late 20's. Supposedly, my goals are suppose to change from here on. The former need of drinking myself into oblivion and waking up next to a she-beast are suppose to be replaced with making money to support my gold digging wife who's cheating on me with my neighbor's gardener. Damn cheatin' ho!!! I knew something was up when she said we needed to get our bushes whacked!

So that's my life. Career and family. And I won't lie about it. At this moment, the only thing that really matters is making a decent amount to support myself and possible a family of my own in the future. Who knows, maybe my first wife won't be such a bitch and leave me with nothing to give my second.

Fob: "Don't take the dog! You don't even like dogs!"
Mrs. Fob: "What are you talking about? He'll make an excellent taxidermy in front of our... I mean my couch."
Fob: "You bitch!!! Well... um... you were never good in bed!!!"
Mrs. Fob: "That's because I was better in other beds..."
Fob: "Son of a..." *wipes feet on couch* "Man, fuck yo couch!!!"

Brokeback Japan part 2

2006-04-21T15:16:00.000-07:00

We arrive in Kyoto late that evening. For me, I've been up for almost 24 hours straight and am ready to pass out. But it's alright. I'm on vacation. I don't have to go back to the hell hole of an office for one whole week.

I can easily fall asleep, but I knew Jwang wanted to go take a look around, so we take off to hit the streets. We exit the hotel to be blasted by this cold breeze. It felt like the ice age just sneezed on me. My nipples were sharp enough to cut glass. Seriously... I was cold. Jwang, noticed my shivering and offered his scarf. Now normally, I would never take another man's clothes unless I was jumping him in a dark alley. But instead of freezing to death, I humbly took his scarf and wrapped it around me. My nipples finally relaxed and as I started to feel better, I noticed the scent of Jwang on his scarf. The smell of mothballs and kung pao chicken was saturated with it. Oddly enough... I found it arousing but thought nothing of it. Maybe I was hungry for chinese food... Maybe I was hungry for... nevermind...

The rest of Kyoto went by uneventful. Being caught up in the history and naturalism of Japan, it's hard to remember the Great Chink of China followed me to Kyoto. Or maybe I was just in denial. I didn't want to think about what I was really thinking about! Tasting that dim sum with some wasabi dressing...

Finally, Tokyo. It's best to do the touristy thing first and then party like a porn star? Or was it rock star? Well in either case, I think someone is getting drunk and laid. Not necessarily in that order.

So it's off to go kick back a few. We head off to this party district where all the bars and clubs are. "Lets go see how these Japs drink," I think. "Will I be able to hang? Will Jwang drink too much and throw up as usual? It's time to find out!"

As suggested to most foreigners, the place to go is GasPanic. I'm assuming it's where all the white boys go to get their yellow fever fix. Anyway, we're there. Drunk. Horny? Not quite. But open to suggestions. The crowd is domestic with a hint of international influence. It's obvious though that people are there to meet people.

We take a couple of shots with the Russian bartender, do a lame dance routine with the sumos, and say insulting "massagy my cha-ji" statements to the korean girls. I say to Jason, "Hey tell those Japanese girls over there to sit on your face."

We laugh and he responds, "Nah, F-that! You do it."

The eyes rollover as I say, "You little bitch... I'll sit on your face if you keep it up..."

And quickly the laughter stops. Jay responds, "Go ahead I don't think you will." And as those words leave his lips, it's as if the whole bar freezes. Our stares are now locked in almost a contest to see who's bluffing. Maybe I am. Maybe he is. Or could it be we're both telling the truth. That perhaps one of our faces will soon be smothered with an ass...

It was one of those exciting but awkward moments in my life. Just like that time I worked as a zookeeper at the San Diego zoo.

Zoo Manager: "Hey, Fob have you seen any of the gerbils? None of them are in their cage."
Fob: *farts in a squirrel noise* "Um... no, sir. Haven't seen 'em. Yeah..., I got to go." *waddles off with a tail sticking out my ass*

So we're there. In a foreign land, drunk and curious. Curious of this strange feeling we're both feeling. And at that moment, this force strangely draws us closer. Closer and closer... my expectations are out the door, I close my eyes to see what happens next...

When this ninja star hits me in the ass!!! The pain snaps me out of this weird daze. I turn to see a gang of ninjas standing their doing a cool-ninja guy pose. Apparently, it's on... I turn back to Jay and the weird tension is gone but he knows what I'm thinking...

Simultaneously we both say, "It's morphin' time!!!"

****

The end.

Brokeback Japan

2006-04-13T12:37:00.000-07:00

What's with the not believing the fobby? I mean, would I lie to you?

I've been asked constantly what really happened in Japan. Apparently going on a vacation means you really left the states to go on a sex tour or to do some other crude sexual act involving a donkey, three chicks, and a banana. In any case, I've been asked to tell my version of Lost in Translation where I meet some hot chick in Japan and go galavanting across the nation, watching weird pedophile acts and eating sushi off naked women. Speaking of which, I tried that on Jwang but he stopped me when I confused his big ass nipples for California rolls...

Anyway, so here it is. The true story. A tale of two men... discovering themselves... discovering each other... and of course, NINJAS!!!! Dim the lights! Brokeback Japan is playing...

****

Hours on hours passed as we sat there in our tiny spaces. The plane ride was long. Long like a black man in heat. And to be confined to these small little bitch seats in coach, it made the time pass by oh so painfully. But I guess that's just part of our added discomfort. "Thank you for flying back of the bus airlines..." That's probably why they sit the first and business class people first, and then let the coach suckers walk past them so as to give them something to laugh at. Those bastards...

Jwang noticed my uneasiness. But I can tell by his head wobble and mouth breathing face he was about ready to pass out. Those big dick sucking lips unable to close shut, his eyes glaze over and he's out like a whore who forgot to pay her pimp. He moves back and forth a bit unconsciously and finally his head comes to a resting spot on my shoulder. And I think, "WTF? Does Fobby have to choke a bitch? Get the hell off me!" But I look at him in all his calmness. His face... like a baby's butt. His hair pricking me in the neck. For some reason I enjoyed it, so I let him sleep there pressed against me which ended up being the rest of the flight.

Hours later, eventually we arrive at our hotel in Kyoto...

(to be continued...)

The Question of the Day

2006-04-11T16:44:00.000-07:00

"So did she touch it?"

Maybe not all asked in those words. Others asked...

"Did you get massagy?"
"Did you hit?"
"Was she legal?"
"So did you pick up or just pay for it?"
"Anyone sit on your face?"

But in some form or another that's all I've been asked today. Yeah, the people who've read my blog can easily come to that conclusion because last I wrote, I talked about my friend getting sucky yakky in Japan. But not once did I ever say I was going there for Jap poon. If I wanted asian ass I would have gone to Thailand. And that's not until next year.

But I'm insulted you all think I'm a dirty whore. Yeah, I've done my share of hideous beasts, but that's not what I'm all about. Is it not possible that I went on vacation just to go on a vacation? So what, if I went to Japan and saw many J-pop girls who would get it right on their foreheads. Does that automatically mean I slept with some of them?

There are other things in life more important than doing hot little asian girls with jacked up teeth. Things like... um... well I can't think of anything right now. But I'm sure they're out there.

So please don't assume I'm a man slut. Unless of course you've seen it with your own eyes. Then yeah, I guess I can't lie to you. But everyone else, DON'T ASSUME!

Place Your Bets

2006-03-29T15:25:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-24T11:31:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-24T09:51:00.000-08:00

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?

2006-03-15T15:36:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-14T09:32:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-07T09:33:00.000-08:00

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...

2006-03-03T11:03:00.000-08:00

...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.

2006-03-01T11:21:00.000-08:00

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*

Big Money... no whammy!

2006-02-27T14:44:00.000-08:00

3... 5... 12... 16... 34... and the mega is 27.

Shit! Again, another weekend, another loss. Why I keep playing this? Well, it's because I'm just as much a loser everyone else who plays this.

The Mega Lottery hit over $200 million this weekend. And just like every other poor son of a bitch with no future, I bought a couple of tickets. I know my chances of winning are about the same as me getting in a sex sandwich with Keira Knightly and Jessica Alba. Our schedules are too busy and I keep missing their calls. But anyway, it doesn't bother me that I'm a sucker wasting 2 or 3 bucks every so often. What I want to know is does everyone else feel as lame as I do when you walk in to buy those damn things? Like you feel guilty for buying Lotto tickets?

I don't know what exactly it is, but it feels similar to the first time I bought condoms. Like I'm doing something I shouldn't be doing. I might as well top it off and ask for both together with a bottle of alcohol.

Fob: *looks around* "Hi... um... can I get 3 bucks on the Mega, a pack of trojans, and a bottle of your finest Ol' English."
Store Owner: "That'll be 14 dollars."
Fob: "Hmm..." *checks pockets* "Better make that Steel Reserve instead of OE..."

I'm trying not to be a 'tard who puts all his hopes and dreams on a stupid lottery ticket. I'd like to think my life is much better than that. But lets face it, I do it because I have those pipe dreams just like what they show on those commercials for the Lotto. Doing what you want, without having to worry about the cash. Who wouldn't think it'd be nice to have a life with no financial worries? It would be a welcome change to work a profession without having to worry about how much I make. Just like that time I worked as Hugh Hefner's stunt double.

Director: "Okay Hugh, you're going to walk into the bedroom with these three playboy bunnies."
Hugh: "I'm sorry I've overdosed on Viagra this week. I can't have sex with these bunnies."
Director: "It's okay. We've thought of that. Stunt double!!!"
Fobby: "Coming!!! Hello ladies!!!!"

HOF

2006-02-24T10:05:00.000-08:00

I know it's not quite the same as getting a peak at a nipple but I think considering the author, I'd be doing you peeps a favor by not posting half naked pictures of myself on Thursdays. So I thought, "Hmm... what can I do, that would be similar but within my style."

So I came up with this! Hung Over Fridays...

These will basically be photos of why I'm all messed up and looking like hammered shit. Not necessarily me being hung over. But more the reason why. If anything, just photos of drunken happiness. So enjoy.

All I have to say is if you ever stay in room 9544 at the Venetian in Vegas...

Ask for new pillows.

Anime Hair

2006-02-23T08:58:00.000-08:00

http://www.nozomionline.com/entertainment/animehair.html

If you're like me and you have a nappy afro, go take a look at this. Just something to consider if you got the pubic head.

Vegas Baby!

2006-02-21T15:39:00.000-08:00

Trent: They're gonna give daddy the Rainman suite, you dig that?
Mike: Do you think we'll get there by midnight?
Trent: Baby, we're going to be up five hundy by midnight!
Mike: Yeeeeaaaaahhhhhh!
Trent: Vegas baby! Vegas!
Mike: Vegas!

The party capital. Land of sin. It's the place you go to do things you normally would not do at home like gambling away your rent money, clubbing until 6 a.m., drinking more alcohol than your body can hold, and hooking up with a person so ugly that normally you'd cut out your eyes if forced to stare at him/her for too long.

Those activities are fine and dandy, but the shadiness doesn't stop there. I recently found something new that I know you dirty lonely whores on a budget would enjoy. Since prostitution is so expensive, why don't you get out cheap by heading over to Chinatown in Vegas off "Mountain Spring Rd." and get yourself a happy endings massage.

Why I know this you ask? Well my friends and I had the bright idea of getting a massage but the prices at the hotel are beyond what my poor ass can afford. So we head over to Chinatown thinking of getting a legitimate massage for significantly less.

Now what they actually do, I can't say because I chose not to receive the happy ending. I figured if God wanted me to do a prostitute, he would have let my mail ordered Thai bride into this country. So I can't say for sure. But my friend who's 30 minute massage took an hour seemed extremely satisfied when he came out. What happened? He won't say. But I speculate it went something like...

Masseuse: "Prease take off yur crothes!"
Friend: "Um... everything?"
Masseuse: "Yes prease." *starts rubbing him down*
Friend: "Excuse me that's my penis. My back's over here."
Masseuse: "Yes, special massage. You pay more later."
Friend: "Um.... I... can't.... afford... HOW MUCH IS IT ANYWAY?"
Masseuse: "For you special price. 35 dolla."
Friend: "That's... fine... I MEAN THAT'S TOO MUCH! 20 dollars?"
Masseuse: "Okay I give you special price. $34.50"
Friend: "No... I... can't.... AHHHHH!!! Damn! Here's $40. Keep the change."

Did this actually happen? Probably not. Does my friend have a new STD? Probably so...

Writing Practice

2006-02-13T20:09:00.000-08:00

Just felt like writing nonsense so here it is.

_______
"It's in the eyes. It says it all." I said casually with my mouth open as I continued to chew my sandwich. He took a break from eating his to absorb what I had just said. And as I glanced up to see his expression I could tell he had no idea what I was talking about. The look of "D'uhh, what?" was slapped all over his face. But then I guess that's why he's sitting here bothering me, preventing the enjoyment of this truly great tuna sandwich. I take one more glance at the tuna and think if I should take another bite, but that anxious look on his face shows that he's waiting on the edge of his seat for me to elaborate. "Look, you just got to see if she has the goo-goo eyes." I tell him.

"The what?" He asks quickly.

"The goo-goo eyes." I repeat. My hunger no longer patient forces me to consume one more bite. I no longer care about being polite and speak with a mouthful, "It's that look. When the eyes are all puppy dog-ish and she has that look on her face that says pass me the butter big boy!" I do a little motion of a growl with my face and make the noise "Rawr!" which I'm sure he got a glimpse of handfulls of tuna stuck all between my teeth. But I own him right now with what I'm saying so I know he won't do a witty insult.

In a confused, frantic speech he replies, "Well... but... what's that look? How will I know it when I see it???" His face so desperate for an answer, I hope he isn't this pathetic in front of her.

I fold the wrapper of my sandwich tightly back up, stand up and look at him one more time and chuckle. I put my hand on his shoulder and say "No worries man. The second she gets close enough to kiss you, she'll probably smell that stanky breath and wonder who took a shit down your throat."

The seriousness in his face turns quickly to a laugh held in, "You son of a bitch!" he returns instantly. "I guess that's what I get for asking advice from a guy who looks like he just ate out the little mermaid."

Ouch! Damn, that was a good comeback, I think to myself. "Haha... Well I'm out of here. Say hi to your left hand tonight. Because I know that's the only play you'll see this evening." I attempt one last comeback as I walk away hoping to come out on top.

"Up yours!" he replies. "You're wrong. I'm right-handed..."

I got jacked

2006-02-10T08:53:00.000-08:00

http://www.theshadowchronicles.com/trailer.php

I don't know how many of you were born in the late 70's or early 80's, but growing up, every boy knew about two certain cartoons. Voltron and Robotech. Personally, I thought Voltron was crap but I still watched it. I mean, it was still better than the Smurfs. But what I'm here to talk about is the almost 20 year reunion comeback of Robotech. In my search for fobness on the internet I found this site that has a trailer for an upcoming installment in the Robotech saga.

Yeah, I know it was a cartoon 20 years ago. Who cares??? But this anime holds a certain amount of value to me. Like when I was a happy little bastard and didn't care about anything. It reminds me of those days.

But the thing that gets me, is this was my damn idea to bring this show back. My cousin Mojo can back me up on this, is that I've always been wanting to write a movie screenplay on Robotech. I thought it out before and I thought I had a good idea for a movie. Of course my writing sucks ass, which is why there's currently nothing to read, but the ideas were in place.

Well who knows. Maybe it's not too late. And watching this new series may motivate me to actually start putting something together. I just have to learn how to put the bottle down. Must... have... one... more... sip...

Operation J-pop Girlfriend

2006-02-06T09:54:00.000-08:00

http://www.nozomionline.com/entertainment/operationgirlfriend.html

This is what my time at work has come down to. Writing articles for this site. Check it out.

Run Forrest!

2006-02-02T10:10:00.000-08:00

My shit hurts. And for the first time I'm not referring to a huge dump that I just took. That was last night and I couldn't post about it. What I mean is my body is sore as hell.

I'd say each week, I work out about 3 to 4 times for about an hour and half. That includes light weights and a crap load of cardio. But lately I've noticed my legs have gotten smaller over the years. I guess the 15 years of soccer has always left me with tree trunk legs. But I think those trees are starting to wither away.

So to gain back some of the muscle I had in my legs, I've been sprinting at the local high school track. And I know what you're thinking. You think I'm just going there to check out the little high school girlies. But you're wrong! I go late at night. I tried going during school hours but they just kicked me out and took my binoculars so I can't even watch from far away.

Anyway, here I am now at work. I feel like a cripple because I ran my ass off last night. And my coworkers think something's up with me because I'm walking around like I shit my pants.

So is it all worth it? The body aches and weird stares? Probably not. But it's something my vain ass has to do. I'm just afraid I'll lose motivation sooner or later. So if you see me running from dogs and cops in your neighborhood, don't fret! I'm just working out.

You're so not money!

2006-01-30T11:29:00.000-08:00

"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

2006-01-25T12:46:00.000-08:00

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

2006-01-23T11:46:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-01-20T11:44:00.000-08:00

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

2006-01-18T09:50:00.000-08:00

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

2006-01-16T10:20:00.000-08:00

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

2006-01-11T09:27:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-01-10T09:12:00.000-08:00

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...

2006-01-09T09:22:00.000-08:00

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...

Photobucket

2006-01-06T18:56:00.000-08:00

This is a test post from Photobucket.com

Write Bitches!

2006-01-06T10:50:00.001-08:00

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

2006-01-06T10:50:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-01-06T10:49:00.000-08:00

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

2006-01-06T10:48:00.000-08:00

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

2006-01-06T10:47:00.000-08:00

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....

2006-01-06T10:46:00.000-08:00

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

2006-01-06T10:44:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-01-06T10:43:00.000-08:00

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?

2006-01-06T10:39:00.000-08:00

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

2006-01-06T10:37:00.000-08:00

"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."

2006-01-06T10:35:00.000-08:00

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...

2006-01-06T10:34:00.000-08:00

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!!!!

2006-01-06T10:32:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-01-06T10:30:00.000-08:00

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

2006-01-06T10:27:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-01-06T10:26:00.000-08:00

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...

2006-01-06T10:25:00.000-08:00

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?

2006-01-06T10:23:00.000-08:00

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...

2006-01-06T10:21:00.000-08:00

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

2006-01-06T10:19:00.000-08:00

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'!

2006-01-06T10:18:00.000-08:00

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?

2006-01-06T10:17:00.000-08:00

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!!!

2006-01-06T10:15:00.000-08:00

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???

2006-01-06T10:14:00.000-08:00

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???

2006-01-06T10:11:00.000-08:00

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...

2006-01-06T10:08:00.000-08:00

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

2006-01-06T10:04:00.000-08:00

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..."