I am the worst grand-son on the planet. This is mostly because I sort of hate my grand-parents. They never really did anything to me, but they never really did anything for me either. I hear about my friends whose grandparents bought them trips to Europe when they graduated from high school, or gave them $5000 dollars for their Bat Mitzvah, whereas my grand-parents constantly ask me what grade I'm in, and whenever they manage to give me 50 bucks (which is always in coin-form rolled up in a pathetic "we saved this up from all of our change all year kind of way" that always makes me angry because honestly go get a fucking job and get some paper cash together. Isn't Wal-Mart always hiring you people) I practically have to give my Grand-Father a hand-job. Granted this comes back to the Jesus Parable about the rich man giving a fortune to the church, and the poor man giving one coin when he only had two. I have friends with rich grandparents and mine are poor, so their gift while smaller is from the heart, so should be more appreciated. Fine whatever, thanks for the spare change, I'm sure the hooker I solicit later with a few rolls of quarters will love it all the same. My real gripe with my grand-parents, the thing that makes me despise them above all other things is my nagging suspicion that beneath all of the smiles and vacant expressions, they might not be now, nor have they ever been good people. It's like a 90 year-old Hitler. I am sure that he might give me scraps of news-papers now that he thinks I might like, and might even give me a candy from time to time, but that doesn't make him a decent fellow, and definitely not someone I should get up for at 7 in the morning on a Sunday to go see. I figure my grandparents aren't good people, because frankly, I see the job they did on my parents.
So in a passive aggressive attempt to not see my grand-parents, I make these crazy statements, to make my parents so wary of bringing me anywhere near the elderly that my Sundays are free to do what god intended, do drugs and have the freaky kind of sex where a platypus might come out of the mix. Se now that last sentence is nothing that I have ever said to my parents, but you get the idea of why they never let me near old people, small children or open flames. Here are a few others.
Why the fuck do I need to come here? It's not like she even knows who I am. Why don't we just lie to her, tell her that we came last week, and put the phone on the table while she cries for 20 minutes about how lonely she is.
No Grandma, it's not cold in here, it's August. You're probably just dying inside.
No Grandpa I don't want to hear the story about how you had to wear cardboard in your shoes to cover the holes during the great depression. Frankly any story about the Great depression is well...depressing. I look at what you have become and get an idea about how shitty your life has been.
Mom, why do you feed me this bullshit about how bad drugs are when Grandma and Grandpa are so fucking spaced on their "medicine" that Grandpa just pissed himself and Grand-Ma is eating a potholder?
Dad, why did you always tell me how important it is to always tell the truth, when grand-ma is 81 and still has red hair, and grand-pa pretended to be a gay Canadian to avoid WW2? What you mean he wasn't pretending anything? Why does he dress like that then.
And my personal favorite
I know why you're so tired Pappy. I believe that god judges us for everything we do in life, and if I was you I would be so scared of the fire in hell that I wouldn't be able to sleep very well either. Oh well, at least I'm a good person, Good Night!
20:1 says I am not going to be in anybodies will. I'd take that bet, cash.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Monday, July 16, 2007
It's better to have
I have become a free-for-all philosopher of sorts for you all, and could not be happier with this development. Whether it is because you desire my input, or desire to give some form of direction to my madness, it doesn't bother me, I am happy to discuss whatever comes up.
A comment I got recently form someone named "You-Know-Who" (which I find ironic because I have no idea who they are) asked if I thought it was better to regret something that you had done, or something that you thought you should have done but never did.
This is a loaded question of course because it burns you down to the core of who you are. It is my belief that there are two types of people out there, and they each have their own kind of regret. There are the planners, who look out into the future, see the possible courses of their actions, and act accordingly. These people tend to look before they leap, and often end up regretting having not taken the plunge more often.
Then there are the doers. These people act on instinct. Planning is impossible for these brash go-getters. They usually get burned, because they never seem to realize that that orange warm thing is actually a flame. Obviously they are more likely to regret something they have done.
I am something of an anomaly. I look into the future, see the path that is fraught with painful possibilities, and walk down it anyways. I do this because most of life is destiny in my eyes, but because I can't see it coming, it just seems like luck. Because you never know what is coming, i think it is best to try everything you can, and not worry too much about the consequences.
I'm a romantic at heart, so let us go back to Shakespeare. It is better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all.
I think that sums up my life.
A comment I got recently form someone named "You-Know-Who" (which I find ironic because I have no idea who they are) asked if I thought it was better to regret something that you had done, or something that you thought you should have done but never did.
This is a loaded question of course because it burns you down to the core of who you are. It is my belief that there are two types of people out there, and they each have their own kind of regret. There are the planners, who look out into the future, see the possible courses of their actions, and act accordingly. These people tend to look before they leap, and often end up regretting having not taken the plunge more often.
Then there are the doers. These people act on instinct. Planning is impossible for these brash go-getters. They usually get burned, because they never seem to realize that that orange warm thing is actually a flame. Obviously they are more likely to regret something they have done.
I am something of an anomaly. I look into the future, see the path that is fraught with painful possibilities, and walk down it anyways. I do this because most of life is destiny in my eyes, but because I can't see it coming, it just seems like luck. Because you never know what is coming, i think it is best to try everything you can, and not worry too much about the consequences.
I'm a romantic at heart, so let us go back to Shakespeare. It is better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all.
I think that sums up my life.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Thoughts that keep me from making any real progress in life
Can you cry under water?
How important does a person have to be before they are consideredassassinated instead of just murdered?
If money doesn't grow on trees then why do banks have branches?
Since bread is square, then why is sandwich meat round?
Why do you have to "put your two cents in"... but it's only a "penny foryour thoughts"? Where's that extra penny going to?
Once you're in heaven, do you get stuck wearing the clothes you were buriedin for eternity?
Why does a round pizza come in a square box?
What disease did cured ham actually have?
How is it that we put man on the moon before we figured out it would be a good idea to put wheels on luggage?
Why is it that people say they "slept like a baby" when babies wake up like every two hours?
If a deaf person has to go to court, is it still called a hearing?
If you drink Pepsi at work in the Coke factory, will they fire you?
Why are you IN a movie, but you're ON TV?
Why do people pay to go up tall buildings and then put money in binoculars to look at things on the ground?
How come we choose from just two people for President and fifty for MissAmerica?
Why do doctors leave the room while you change? They're going to see you naked anyway.
If a 911 operator has a heart attack, whom does he/she call?
Why is "bra" singular and "panties" plural?
Do illiterate people get the full effect of Alphabet soup?
Who was the first person to look at a cow and say, "I think I'll squeezethese dangly things here, and drink whatever comes out!
"Why do toasters always have a setting that burns the toast to a horriblecrisp, which no decent human being would eat?
Why is there a light in the fridge and not in the freezer?
When your photo is taken for your driver's license, why do they tell you to smile? If you are stopped by the police and asked for your license, are yougoing to be smiling?
If Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why is there a stupid song about him?
Can a hearse carrying a corpse drive in the carpool lane?
If the professor on Gilligan's Island can make a radio out of a coconut, whycan't he fix a hole in a boat?
Why do people point to their wrist when asking for the time, but don't point to their crotch when they ask where the bathroom is?
Why does Goofy stand erect while Pluto remains on all fours? They're both dogs!
What do you call male ballerinas?
Can people born blind see their dreams?
If Wyle E. Coyote had enough money to buy all that ACME crap, why didn't he just buy dinner?
If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables,what is baby oil made from?
If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons?
Is Disney World the only people trap operated by a mouse?
Do the Alphabet song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star have the same tune?
Why did you just try singing the two songs above?
Why do they call it an asteroid when it's outside the hemisphere, but call it a hemorrhoid when it's in your butt?
Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog's face, he gets mad at you,but when you take him for a car ride, he sticks his head out the window?
How important does a person have to be before they are consideredassassinated instead of just murdered?
If money doesn't grow on trees then why do banks have branches?
Since bread is square, then why is sandwich meat round?
Why do you have to "put your two cents in"... but it's only a "penny foryour thoughts"? Where's that extra penny going to?
Once you're in heaven, do you get stuck wearing the clothes you were buriedin for eternity?
Why does a round pizza come in a square box?
What disease did cured ham actually have?
How is it that we put man on the moon before we figured out it would be a good idea to put wheels on luggage?
Why is it that people say they "slept like a baby" when babies wake up like every two hours?
If a deaf person has to go to court, is it still called a hearing?
If you drink Pepsi at work in the Coke factory, will they fire you?
Why are you IN a movie, but you're ON TV?
Why do people pay to go up tall buildings and then put money in binoculars to look at things on the ground?
How come we choose from just two people for President and fifty for MissAmerica?
Why do doctors leave the room while you change? They're going to see you naked anyway.
If a 911 operator has a heart attack, whom does he/she call?
Why is "bra" singular and "panties" plural?
Do illiterate people get the full effect of Alphabet soup?
Who was the first person to look at a cow and say, "I think I'll squeezethese dangly things here, and drink whatever comes out!
"Why do toasters always have a setting that burns the toast to a horriblecrisp, which no decent human being would eat?
Why is there a light in the fridge and not in the freezer?
When your photo is taken for your driver's license, why do they tell you to smile? If you are stopped by the police and asked for your license, are yougoing to be smiling?
If Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why is there a stupid song about him?
Can a hearse carrying a corpse drive in the carpool lane?
If the professor on Gilligan's Island can make a radio out of a coconut, whycan't he fix a hole in a boat?
Why do people point to their wrist when asking for the time, but don't point to their crotch when they ask where the bathroom is?
Why does Goofy stand erect while Pluto remains on all fours? They're both dogs!
What do you call male ballerinas?
Can people born blind see their dreams?
If Wyle E. Coyote had enough money to buy all that ACME crap, why didn't he just buy dinner?
If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables,what is baby oil made from?
If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons?
Is Disney World the only people trap operated by a mouse?
Do the Alphabet song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star have the same tune?
Why did you just try singing the two songs above?
Why do they call it an asteroid when it's outside the hemisphere, but call it a hemorrhoid when it's in your butt?
Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog's face, he gets mad at you,but when you take him for a car ride, he sticks his head out the window?
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
You Know You Live...
I've been at My place for almost two months now, and I am unable to deny one uncompromising truth: I miss living at my parent's house.
Psych!!!
I love being on my own. The freedom, and luxury of walking around in my underwear is amazing. The only person who habitually views myself in my disrobed glory...suffice it to say that she enjoys the sight.
That being said I live in the ghetto. At first I thought...nah this is no different than my home in the chats...not high class, but not bad. I am past all such delusions. I live in the hood. Here are a few reasons that have brought me to this unassailable proof.
Transportation
I am not above taking the bus. Back in my single days, while many guys killed themselves financially by purchasing these vehicles...I was quite happy to tell any girl walking that I was rocking a bus pass. Granted, I always shaded it with environmental consciousness (let me tell you girlies have a soft spot for a man who treats his mother well, why not Mother Earth?). Everything is all about the way you say it. Like Martha Stewart always says, "Presentation is everything". Boys, listen to that waspy bitch, the girls do.
The reason I believe that I live in the hood is not that people are too poor to drive so they take the bus, but rather that when I wake up and take the 7:30 bus to work, I can always get a seat.
I am the middle stop on the line to my metro (French-Canadian version of the subway), which means that most people in my town either don't work typical 9-to-5's, or rather that they don't work at all. They're either drug dealer's...or clientele.
Also, and this is a more humorous indication of the G-Level (ghetto level) of my town. There are a great many grown men who drive bikes...not as a leisurely activity, but as a primary means of transportation. Ghetto!!!
Child Rearing
First of all, I understand that every now and then a guy is in a dry spell, so he goes for the less attractive girl..everyone needs a slump-buster. But in true ghetto style, I can't walk down my block without seeing 2 things. 1) 3 liquor stores and 2) an ugly chick with a brand new baby, and who is pregnant as all hell. Only in the Ghetto are ugmos prime real estate. My Girly loves it that I live here, because she is absolutely certain that I would never approach any of the "females" (and I use that term extremely loosely, cuz god-damn) that live near-by.
I can't even begin to describe how many 6 year-olds there are hanging about outside of my place after 10, how evident the shotgun is at the corner store, because the Korean guy that owns the place (another ghetto warning bell) is sick of little hands stealing everything that isn't behind the counter (and some of the stuff that is, the sneaky buggers).
Also if you're chain smoking while pregnant with your third child while the other two still in diapers force feeding them marshmallows for supper because they scream bloody murder when they're in the presence of a vegetable (it doesn't matter if they're 3, and still can't string together a sentence), odds are you can forget saving up for college money, you had better save up for bail.
Location Location Location
It's true that my place is newly renovated, but the place next to me is still vacant, and the door has been kicked in (by the police or a rival drug dealer, I have no idea). I am a boy, so I care more about satellite reception than I do about interior decorating. Much to my girlies horror, I have put up a bed sheet to cover my Bay window. In the most ghetto proof of them all, one of my neighbors, a kind toothless old drunk black man, complimented me on my choice. He said the flowery motif added a natural flair to the building. It took me a few minutes to realize that he wasn't insulting me, the glint in his good eye showed that he was really genuinely happy to live next to such a high-class young man.
So when we go out to the bar, I'll yell out Cheers! First round's on...anyone but me! Unless it's any other day than the 1st or the 15th...cuz then no one has their welfare money.
Psych!!!
I love being on my own. The freedom, and luxury of walking around in my underwear is amazing. The only person who habitually views myself in my disrobed glory...suffice it to say that she enjoys the sight.
That being said I live in the ghetto. At first I thought...nah this is no different than my home in the chats...not high class, but not bad. I am past all such delusions. I live in the hood. Here are a few reasons that have brought me to this unassailable proof.
Transportation
I am not above taking the bus. Back in my single days, while many guys killed themselves financially by purchasing these vehicles...I was quite happy to tell any girl walking that I was rocking a bus pass. Granted, I always shaded it with environmental consciousness (let me tell you girlies have a soft spot for a man who treats his mother well, why not Mother Earth?). Everything is all about the way you say it. Like Martha Stewart always says, "Presentation is everything". Boys, listen to that waspy bitch, the girls do.
The reason I believe that I live in the hood is not that people are too poor to drive so they take the bus, but rather that when I wake up and take the 7:30 bus to work, I can always get a seat.
I am the middle stop on the line to my metro (French-Canadian version of the subway), which means that most people in my town either don't work typical 9-to-5's, or rather that they don't work at all. They're either drug dealer's...or clientele.
Also, and this is a more humorous indication of the G-Level (ghetto level) of my town. There are a great many grown men who drive bikes...not as a leisurely activity, but as a primary means of transportation. Ghetto!!!
Child Rearing
First of all, I understand that every now and then a guy is in a dry spell, so he goes for the less attractive girl..everyone needs a slump-buster. But in true ghetto style, I can't walk down my block without seeing 2 things. 1) 3 liquor stores and 2) an ugly chick with a brand new baby, and who is pregnant as all hell. Only in the Ghetto are ugmos prime real estate. My Girly loves it that I live here, because she is absolutely certain that I would never approach any of the "females" (and I use that term extremely loosely, cuz god-damn) that live near-by.
I can't even begin to describe how many 6 year-olds there are hanging about outside of my place after 10, how evident the shotgun is at the corner store, because the Korean guy that owns the place (another ghetto warning bell) is sick of little hands stealing everything that isn't behind the counter (and some of the stuff that is, the sneaky buggers).
Also if you're chain smoking while pregnant with your third child while the other two still in diapers force feeding them marshmallows for supper because they scream bloody murder when they're in the presence of a vegetable (it doesn't matter if they're 3, and still can't string together a sentence), odds are you can forget saving up for college money, you had better save up for bail.
Location Location Location
It's true that my place is newly renovated, but the place next to me is still vacant, and the door has been kicked in (by the police or a rival drug dealer, I have no idea). I am a boy, so I care more about satellite reception than I do about interior decorating. Much to my girlies horror, I have put up a bed sheet to cover my Bay window. In the most ghetto proof of them all, one of my neighbors, a kind toothless old drunk black man, complimented me on my choice. He said the flowery motif added a natural flair to the building. It took me a few minutes to realize that he wasn't insulting me, the glint in his good eye showed that he was really genuinely happy to live next to such a high-class young man.
So when we go out to the bar, I'll yell out Cheers! First round's on...anyone but me! Unless it's any other day than the 1st or the 15th...cuz then no one has their welfare money.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
The New Porn
This is something only a few guys will understand. Most guys are dating a girl who isn't really into sex, so they have to hide the fact that they watch porn. It's like Daddy's alcohol habit...everyone knows he does it, but no one talks about it. Also it's all your fault.
In my case, this is not a problem. My girl is a little deviant, so she doesn't care that I watch porn, as long as I'm not stealing any activities that could be better "spent" with/on her. She watches it too, and the rules apply both ways. When she's not around, it's cool to play ball, when she's around, I play with her.
The New Porn though, is videogames. She knows I play them, she knows I like em, but she gets this weird face whenever I play around her. So i've taken to not playing while she's around, hiding the last vestiges of my lingering nerdiness from the old days. This wouldn't be a problem, except that we're together all the time, so I don't have that much time to hit the sticks.
The real problem though, is the fact that I don't even want to play that much. After along mind numbingly boring day at work, I need like half an hour or 45 minutes tops, to blow things up, and shoot people in the head from a ridiculously long distance while jumping from the top of a tower. After I have that out of my system, I usually just want to fu...hug the shit out of her.
Wow, I really don't have any problems in life.
In my case, this is not a problem. My girl is a little deviant, so she doesn't care that I watch porn, as long as I'm not stealing any activities that could be better "spent" with/on her. She watches it too, and the rules apply both ways. When she's not around, it's cool to play ball, when she's around, I play with her.
The New Porn though, is videogames. She knows I play them, she knows I like em, but she gets this weird face whenever I play around her. So i've taken to not playing while she's around, hiding the last vestiges of my lingering nerdiness from the old days. This wouldn't be a problem, except that we're together all the time, so I don't have that much time to hit the sticks.
The real problem though, is the fact that I don't even want to play that much. After along mind numbingly boring day at work, I need like half an hour or 45 minutes tops, to blow things up, and shoot people in the head from a ridiculously long distance while jumping from the top of a tower. After I have that out of my system, I usually just want to fu...hug the shit out of her.
Wow, I really don't have any problems in life.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
How...civilized?
I have been having some seriously weird ideas lately. Yesterday on my way home I was thinking about the perils of music superstardom, and later that evening I got onto the civilised forms of dining etiquette. My girlfriend god bless her, is still in the mindframe that everything I say is either pure comedic gold, or divinely inspiring, from the mouth of god himself.
This might be a slight exaggeration, but let's say that she's really into me, which is always a great confidence booster.
In any event, I got to thinking, who ever thought that eating with a fork and knife was more civilized? I mean, for millenia, the Pharaoh at food with his fingers. Due to his position as God among men, his very touch blessed the food so that anything touching his lips was sacred. In certain parts of the country, touching your food before eating it is seen as a taciturn way of showing pleasure...or at very least it was an affirmation before all that this food is viewed as clean.
Not so in "The Western Civilization". Where we live, we have much more class. We tear the flesh of our dead animals from their bones with miniaturized tridents, sawing and rending the flesh in smaller pieces with a blade. Once we have dessicated the pre-mutilated limbs of our hunt, we stab the pieces again with these skewers (more politely referred to as Forks) and pull the meat directly from the point with our mouth.
Am I the only one who sees this as being slightly barbaric?
This might be a slight exaggeration, but let's say that she's really into me, which is always a great confidence booster.
In any event, I got to thinking, who ever thought that eating with a fork and knife was more civilized? I mean, for millenia, the Pharaoh at food with his fingers. Due to his position as God among men, his very touch blessed the food so that anything touching his lips was sacred. In certain parts of the country, touching your food before eating it is seen as a taciturn way of showing pleasure...or at very least it was an affirmation before all that this food is viewed as clean.
Not so in "The Western Civilization". Where we live, we have much more class. We tear the flesh of our dead animals from their bones with miniaturized tridents, sawing and rending the flesh in smaller pieces with a blade. Once we have dessicated the pre-mutilated limbs of our hunt, we stab the pieces again with these skewers (more politely referred to as Forks) and pull the meat directly from the point with our mouth.
Am I the only one who sees this as being slightly barbaric?
Monday, June 18, 2007
It must suck to be...
A musician.
Not just any musician, because frankly, most musicians barely scrape by in which case it doesn't suck fro them to be a musician, it sucks for them to be poor. No, at this moment I firmly believe it sucks to be a famous musician. The reason for this is because they are forced to tour in order to promote new albums, thus drumming up the sales to warrant the lavish trappings of fortune and fame.
This means that they have to play the same damn songs day in and day out for the duration of a tour. Also they have to be interviewed in every city, where they are inevitably asked the same questions. The problem with this, is not that it is boring, but because they have to seem like they are answering these questions for the first time, they have to seem genuine, otherwise it won't sell. Basically they have to lie. I wonder if the sophomore curse isn't simply a subconscious effort on the musicians part to thwart their future touring, thus allowing them to remain genuine, if not obscure.
Why would they hate playing their own songs...you might ask. They created them, and have had strong feelings involved in the making of these songs. And while I agree with you, I am drawn to the plight of the good parent (I say a good parent, because frankly bad parents aren't worth mentioning).
A good parent wants a child. they dream of a child and do their best to be the people who would make good children. They take their time while creating the child, making sure it is created with passion, love, and attention. When the child is brought to fruition, they take the time to mold them, caring for them in their fledgling moments, making them into entities that are important and noteworthy on their own, but also an integral part of a harmonious whole. Even down to their own. I have seen potential parents combing volumes of names, lexicons of appellations, to find the call sign, that will define their crowning achievement.
I have seen these same people want to tear out their own hair when the child is teething. It is not that they don't love their child, but having to repeat this poor thing's name over and over wears on them. It is the worst part of parenting, having to repeat the simplest lessons, over and over again. Repetition breeds contempt.
So today i think it would suck to be a musician. I'm not saying I wouldn't take a few million to do it, but I don't think it would be a walk in the park to do it.
Not just any musician, because frankly, most musicians barely scrape by in which case it doesn't suck fro them to be a musician, it sucks for them to be poor. No, at this moment I firmly believe it sucks to be a famous musician. The reason for this is because they are forced to tour in order to promote new albums, thus drumming up the sales to warrant the lavish trappings of fortune and fame.
This means that they have to play the same damn songs day in and day out for the duration of a tour. Also they have to be interviewed in every city, where they are inevitably asked the same questions. The problem with this, is not that it is boring, but because they have to seem like they are answering these questions for the first time, they have to seem genuine, otherwise it won't sell. Basically they have to lie. I wonder if the sophomore curse isn't simply a subconscious effort on the musicians part to thwart their future touring, thus allowing them to remain genuine, if not obscure.
Why would they hate playing their own songs...you might ask. They created them, and have had strong feelings involved in the making of these songs. And while I agree with you, I am drawn to the plight of the good parent (I say a good parent, because frankly bad parents aren't worth mentioning).
A good parent wants a child. they dream of a child and do their best to be the people who would make good children. They take their time while creating the child, making sure it is created with passion, love, and attention. When the child is brought to fruition, they take the time to mold them, caring for them in their fledgling moments, making them into entities that are important and noteworthy on their own, but also an integral part of a harmonious whole. Even down to their own. I have seen potential parents combing volumes of names, lexicons of appellations, to find the call sign, that will define their crowning achievement.
I have seen these same people want to tear out their own hair when the child is teething. It is not that they don't love their child, but having to repeat this poor thing's name over and over wears on them. It is the worst part of parenting, having to repeat the simplest lessons, over and over again. Repetition breeds contempt.
So today i think it would suck to be a musician. I'm not saying I wouldn't take a few million to do it, but I don't think it would be a walk in the park to do it.
I'm ready to retire
It's official...after being on the workforce unofficially for 7 years, in an officially recognized "career", I am more than ready to retire. I did a dry run recently; people call it a vacation, but since I didn't actually go anywhere, and just did the things I couldn't do while working (i.e: drinking, sleeping in, getting tattoos), so it was much more like retirement than an actual vacation.
I wasn't sure if retirement life was for me though, because after a week spent in an alcoholic haze, I had forgotten what work was like. I was reminded this morning at 6:30 am. You see, one of my anathemas in life is alarm clocks(I have many as I am a pretty cut and dry person. I either love something or it is the bane of my existence...grey areas are for pussies).
I am of the firm belief tht human beings are anaimals, and that anything that detracts from that is inerently wrong. This means that I would ideally eat when I'm hungry, sleep when I am tired, and wake up when i am no longer tired. North American buisiness culture is not designed for this style of life, what with it's long hours short deadlines and preset lunch and break times.
I got to work, on time (necause even though I am against the early hour of work, I am also a punctual person), and was immediately assaulted with 2 weeks worth of catch up work. You see it turns out that running away from your problems doesn't solve them, they are going to be there when you get back, and they usually bring a few friends along for the ride.
So that is a quick synopsis of what's been up with my life. If I don't win the lottery soon, I have 42 more years of work before I'm allowed to retire for real.
Someone please buy me a drink.
I wasn't sure if retirement life was for me though, because after a week spent in an alcoholic haze, I had forgotten what work was like. I was reminded this morning at 6:30 am. You see, one of my anathemas in life is alarm clocks(I have many as I am a pretty cut and dry person. I either love something or it is the bane of my existence...grey areas are for pussies).
I am of the firm belief tht human beings are anaimals, and that anything that detracts from that is inerently wrong. This means that I would ideally eat when I'm hungry, sleep when I am tired, and wake up when i am no longer tired. North American buisiness culture is not designed for this style of life, what with it's long hours short deadlines and preset lunch and break times.
I got to work, on time (necause even though I am against the early hour of work, I am also a punctual person), and was immediately assaulted with 2 weeks worth of catch up work. You see it turns out that running away from your problems doesn't solve them, they are going to be there when you get back, and they usually bring a few friends along for the ride.
So that is a quick synopsis of what's been up with my life. If I don't win the lottery soon, I have 42 more years of work before I'm allowed to retire for real.
Someone please buy me a drink.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
There isn't enough girly shit in my apartment
I am fucked up y'all. I spent the better part of the day preparing to clean, while also thinking up things to write about. I came to two conclusions:
1) Im funnier when trying not to be funny. If I force it, it sucks balls. I will do my best to write daily, some things will be funny, most will not, because Im a pretty serious dude, or at very least I have deep thoughts about shallow subjects.
2) I can't wait for my girlfriend to move in with me. Forget about the fact that Im fucking cheap and spending half on bills as I usually do seems like a good idea. I did some basic math, and combined we make almost 80 G's a year. I haven't graduated college yet (unless my work mandated contract asks, in which case I totally did), but 80 thousand dollars a year= me being debt free and on a beach effin soon.
It's more for the fact that after I did get most of my cleaning done, I realized that my place looks like shit. My nicest furniture was either hand-picked by my girlfriend or given to me by her. She has been in her new apartment for like 1 fucking week, and it already looks 5 times nicer than mine. I have throw-pillow envy.
She has a bit less than a year on her lease, duing which time I will subtly convince her that moving in with me is not only the best option for her, and us as a couple, but actually the only option she has. This will include: Flat out asking, insinuating, offering, begging, pleading, demanding, manipulating, bribery, extortion black-mail, roses, cash, sexual favours, the lack of asking for sexual favours, a ring(?), two rings (for her ears), or just sitting on a chair that is too big for me, kicking my feet and looking lost (don't ask me why this works, but it's cute as all hell, and I can make her do anything when she's in that mushy frame of mind).
I would figure that this is obviously all a joke, and that while I wouldn't mind shacking up with my Girly, I won't do so by any duplicitous means. I want to clarify this, because I don't need another repeat of last week's fiasco (look in the archives http://toinespot.blogspot.com/2007/06/my-stupidmouth.html)
There you haves it, I never thought I'd settle down, and here I am impatiently counting down the days. Lucky me!
1) Im funnier when trying not to be funny. If I force it, it sucks balls. I will do my best to write daily, some things will be funny, most will not, because Im a pretty serious dude, or at very least I have deep thoughts about shallow subjects.
2) I can't wait for my girlfriend to move in with me. Forget about the fact that Im fucking cheap and spending half on bills as I usually do seems like a good idea. I did some basic math, and combined we make almost 80 G's a year. I haven't graduated college yet (unless my work mandated contract asks, in which case I totally did), but 80 thousand dollars a year= me being debt free and on a beach effin soon.
It's more for the fact that after I did get most of my cleaning done, I realized that my place looks like shit. My nicest furniture was either hand-picked by my girlfriend or given to me by her. She has been in her new apartment for like 1 fucking week, and it already looks 5 times nicer than mine. I have throw-pillow envy.
She has a bit less than a year on her lease, duing which time I will subtly convince her that moving in with me is not only the best option for her, and us as a couple, but actually the only option she has. This will include: Flat out asking, insinuating, offering, begging, pleading, demanding, manipulating, bribery, extortion black-mail, roses, cash, sexual favours, the lack of asking for sexual favours, a ring(?), two rings (for her ears), or just sitting on a chair that is too big for me, kicking my feet and looking lost (don't ask me why this works, but it's cute as all hell, and I can make her do anything when she's in that mushy frame of mind).
I would figure that this is obviously all a joke, and that while I wouldn't mind shacking up with my Girly, I won't do so by any duplicitous means. I want to clarify this, because I don't need another repeat of last week's fiasco (look in the archives http://toinespot.blogspot.com/2007/06/my-stupidmouth.html)
There you haves it, I never thought I'd settle down, and here I am impatiently counting down the days. Lucky me!
Monday, June 11, 2007
Random Paranoias
I am a pretty weird guy. They say you are at 8 who you'll be at 80, and if so, that is not a pleasant thought. When I was a little boy, I was no9t very popular. I didn't have many friends, and the ones I did, were not true friends at all. It is in this atmosphere of solitude and betrayal that I developed a few of my charming, and not so charming personality traits. They say admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, if so, hopefully I am on the mend.
I am neurotically paranoid.
If I call someone's cell phone and they don't answer, I immediately feel like they are screening my calls.
If I make plans to go out that fall through with someone twice in a row, I am convinced they want nothing to do with me.
If I walk by complete strangers and they happen to laugh, i am convinced they are laughing at me.
I tell jokes constantly to avoid having people laugh at me directly, as opposed to the things I say.
If I say something that i don't believe to be overly funny (a lead in joke to a funnier punchline) that gets an over-exaggerated amount of laughs, I see the person either as a sycopnat, or as someone who is laughing at me. Both are extremely undesirable.
These are just a few of the random insecurities I have been thinking about lately.
I am neurotically paranoid.
If I call someone's cell phone and they don't answer, I immediately feel like they are screening my calls.
If I make plans to go out that fall through with someone twice in a row, I am convinced they want nothing to do with me.
If I walk by complete strangers and they happen to laugh, i am convinced they are laughing at me.
I tell jokes constantly to avoid having people laugh at me directly, as opposed to the things I say.
If I say something that i don't believe to be overly funny (a lead in joke to a funnier punchline) that gets an over-exaggerated amount of laughs, I see the person either as a sycopnat, or as someone who is laughing at me. Both are extremely undesirable.
These are just a few of the random insecurities I have been thinking about lately.
Friday, June 8, 2007
My Stupid...Mouth?
Man I am a fucking idiot. You know how I used to hit on people randomly, basically anyone that moved? This was an animal instinct. The goal was to throw my nets out as far as possible, so that I had a better chance of reeling someone in. Now that I have landed the right one, I can stop using this method (also I can stop using fishing metaphors). This apparently is easier said than done.
You see, I have always been a rather flirtatious guy, joking around on the bluer side of life. Well I got into a fuckload of trouble yesterday because of it. I was speaking to a friend of mine yesterday, and was joking around about how she had missed her chance to be with me, because I was more than happy witht her girl that I am with (for those of you keeping track, me and Girly have been going strong for going on 4 months now). So far so good, right? I made it abundantly clear that I was taken, and too bad for her. Next I proceed to say if ever I was in the mood for some extra-relationshiop action, I'd give her a ring. Now I'm kind of fucking up right? Upon retrospection I would be inclined to agree, except that I knew what was going on in my head at the time. I know how unlikely this is to happen. It would be like saying whenever I grow 9 inches and learn how to sink a jumpshot under pressure, i'd go sign up for the NBA, I suppose it can be viewed as a truthful claim, but it is so fucking unlikely, that it has to be seen as a joke.
This by itself would not be a problem, except for the fact that I am so unworried about these claims that I kept my msn window open, where my girl just happened to see everything that was written.
After the drag-out fight where she up and left my place while telling me that she didn't even want to look at my face (of course I had no idea why she was upset at the time, maybe I should have stopped what iw as doing when she walked in from work, but im on vacation and was entertaining a buddy of mine, also I was on a breakaway with Crosby on Xbox360).
Now I could have been upset by the fact that she read my personal messages. She sure as hell felt bad for it, but I'm not. This is simply because I don't view anything in my life as being too personal for her. I have no secrets, I'm a good boy.
All this to say that it sucks, because one stupid conversation, taken out of context has fucked everything up. We're still together, she came back later that night, we went out for iced cream, and watched CSI. Now though, I can never have a female friend over alone, without her freaking out. This is cool because I don't have any female friends, but if i did, it would be ruined. The problem is not even that she's insanely jealous, it makes perfect sense, if I was in her position, i'd feel the exact same way. Thge problem is though that I said something dumb that messed up the little trust charm i had going. She says she forgives me, but she doesn't forget. I've seen her watch a movie, and then re-watch it four days later and not remember a lick of it, so im hoping she does forget. This is probably wishful thinking though.
Oh, its another social casualty
Score one more for me
How could I forget?
Mama said think before speaking
No filter in my head.
Oh, whats a boy to do?
I guess he better find one soon
Oh, and sorry for being away so long, I'll do my best to be back. I appreciate all the hate mail asking me to write back. Also the more subtle, "I'm so disappointed"s, you guys are going to guilt the fuck out of your kids, and when they resort to drinking to drown out your voices, they'll still hear me yelling,
Cheers! First round's on...anyone but me! And I'm taken!
You see, I have always been a rather flirtatious guy, joking around on the bluer side of life. Well I got into a fuckload of trouble yesterday because of it. I was speaking to a friend of mine yesterday, and was joking around about how she had missed her chance to be with me, because I was more than happy witht her girl that I am with (for those of you keeping track, me and Girly have been going strong for going on 4 months now). So far so good, right? I made it abundantly clear that I was taken, and too bad for her. Next I proceed to say if ever I was in the mood for some extra-relationshiop action, I'd give her a ring. Now I'm kind of fucking up right? Upon retrospection I would be inclined to agree, except that I knew what was going on in my head at the time. I know how unlikely this is to happen. It would be like saying whenever I grow 9 inches and learn how to sink a jumpshot under pressure, i'd go sign up for the NBA, I suppose it can be viewed as a truthful claim, but it is so fucking unlikely, that it has to be seen as a joke.
This by itself would not be a problem, except for the fact that I am so unworried about these claims that I kept my msn window open, where my girl just happened to see everything that was written.
After the drag-out fight where she up and left my place while telling me that she didn't even want to look at my face (of course I had no idea why she was upset at the time, maybe I should have stopped what iw as doing when she walked in from work, but im on vacation and was entertaining a buddy of mine, also I was on a breakaway with Crosby on Xbox360).
Now I could have been upset by the fact that she read my personal messages. She sure as hell felt bad for it, but I'm not. This is simply because I don't view anything in my life as being too personal for her. I have no secrets, I'm a good boy.
All this to say that it sucks, because one stupid conversation, taken out of context has fucked everything up. We're still together, she came back later that night, we went out for iced cream, and watched CSI. Now though, I can never have a female friend over alone, without her freaking out. This is cool because I don't have any female friends, but if i did, it would be ruined. The problem is not even that she's insanely jealous, it makes perfect sense, if I was in her position, i'd feel the exact same way. Thge problem is though that I said something dumb that messed up the little trust charm i had going. She says she forgives me, but she doesn't forget. I've seen her watch a movie, and then re-watch it four days later and not remember a lick of it, so im hoping she does forget. This is probably wishful thinking though.
Oh, its another social casualty
Score one more for me
How could I forget?
Mama said think before speaking
No filter in my head.
Oh, whats a boy to do?
I guess he better find one soon
Oh, and sorry for being away so long, I'll do my best to be back. I appreciate all the hate mail asking me to write back. Also the more subtle, "I'm so disappointed"s, you guys are going to guilt the fuck out of your kids, and when they resort to drinking to drown out your voices, they'll still hear me yelling,
Cheers! First round's on...anyone but me! And I'm taken!
Thursday, May 24, 2007
FanBase? Who needs fans?
I seriously fucking suck. I can spend 20 minutes listing all the reasons I have for not having written in so long, but honestly i should have found a way. I have some ideas for a few things, but I am really swamped with work right now, so i don't have time to give it what it deserves, so i will just do a little musing on something I saw this morning.
An advertisement for KUMHO tires. Kumho, really? That's the best you could come up with? Why not JizzBitch SpermSlut or something equally offensive?
Either way, there are some pretty clever, if limitied advertisement slogans that could be used for such a tire.
KUMHO...works best when wet.
Dear God I need a drink
An advertisement for KUMHO tires. Kumho, really? That's the best you could come up with? Why not JizzBitch SpermSlut or something equally offensive?
Either way, there are some pretty clever, if limitied advertisement slogans that could be used for such a tire.
KUMHO...works best when wet.
Dear God I need a drink
Monday, May 14, 2007
Home sweet Home?
I’m sitting in my new living room with my 40 inch LCD screen sitting blankly in front of me (size matters to us boys too). The sun hasn’t set yet, and I have a ton of work to do, but instead I’m drinking beer and waiting for the glare to go away so I can play videogames. The fact that I’m a procrastinator is nothing new, but what is new, is the location of the writing. I am finally installed (mostly) in my new apartment, and basically nothing has changed. I feel no different now that I am “on my own” than when I was living at home. This is probably for more than one reason.
Paramount among them is the fact that I had to pay rent and a fuckload of bills before I moved out, so I don’t feel a culture shock. True I can’t really mooch off of anyone else’s food in my new apartment like I might have living at home, but this difference is minor at best.
Secondly, and I think more importantly is that I have a girlfriend. When I thought of living on my own, the idea that came to my mind the most was that I could finally go out with my buddies get tanked and then bring home random chicks. Now however, I still go out with my buddies and get tanked, but I always pick up the same chick. This is a good development, life is less interesting, but more steady. I wouldn’t change my life for a second.
Also the first round is never on me, but the pre-drink happens at my pad more now, and I always have a fridge full of brew, and cold pizza but not much else. Ahhh to be a young man on his own, it is a wonderfully stupid thing.
Paramount among them is the fact that I had to pay rent and a fuckload of bills before I moved out, so I don’t feel a culture shock. True I can’t really mooch off of anyone else’s food in my new apartment like I might have living at home, but this difference is minor at best.
Secondly, and I think more importantly is that I have a girlfriend. When I thought of living on my own, the idea that came to my mind the most was that I could finally go out with my buddies get tanked and then bring home random chicks. Now however, I still go out with my buddies and get tanked, but I always pick up the same chick. This is a good development, life is less interesting, but more steady. I wouldn’t change my life for a second.
Also the first round is never on me, but the pre-drink happens at my pad more now, and I always have a fridge full of brew, and cold pizza but not much else. Ahhh to be a young man on his own, it is a wonderfully stupid thing.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
I keep on falling in and out, of love with you
So, my last article seemed to have attracted a bit of attention, which is always a good thing. One of my most adamant supporters has finally made a request (If I needed an editor to keep me from missing deadlines it would be this girl. She never fails to remind me that I have no posted in like totally forever. Thanks for the reminders, and fuck you I'm trying to move and keep my job so I can pay my rent. But, thank you).
Her question that she would like to see me examine, is why allow the relationship evolve, seeing as how the more you move forward, the more you move toward the end. Many people feel this way, that the best part of the relationship is the beginning when it is all knew.
So what are my viewpoints on this? Furthermore, it has been asked of me if I have been in a long term relationship. First of all yes I have been in a long term relationship. I was with someone off and on (more on than off) for over three years. I was with someone else for more than a year. I have also dated around a lot. I offer a unique viewpoint on relationships as I happen to be the two polar opposite dating types at the same time. This means, more simply, that I am very comfortable in a long term relationship, and have also thoroughly enjoyed playing the field.
So to answer the second question, why should we evolve our relationship if the beginning is the best part? Well I think we should allow our relationship to progress because it is inevitable anyways. Nobody enjoys a relationship that feels as though it is going nowhere. The speed with which it progresses of course is dictated by the level of intimacy that both people are comfortable with. Think of each of these levels of a relationship as flavours of ice cream. While it is good to eat ice cream, and the first time you taste a new flavour is incredible, you would get sick of it if it was the only flavour you could ever eat. That being said, my theory for a solid relationship is to have all flavours all the time. Just because you hit the next level, it doesn't mean you need to abandon the previous ones. Have your cake and eat it too (man I shouldn't write when I am hungry)
I believe that if you treat every date like the first date, and treat your wife like your girlfriend forever, you'll still have googly eyes for each other when you need coke bottle lenses to see them.
Thanks for the response, I hope to have more feedback from you all, and new topics. Ask me anything, I like to run my mouth!
Her question that she would like to see me examine, is why allow the relationship evolve, seeing as how the more you move forward, the more you move toward the end. Many people feel this way, that the best part of the relationship is the beginning when it is all knew.
So what are my viewpoints on this? Furthermore, it has been asked of me if I have been in a long term relationship. First of all yes I have been in a long term relationship. I was with someone off and on (more on than off) for over three years. I was with someone else for more than a year. I have also dated around a lot. I offer a unique viewpoint on relationships as I happen to be the two polar opposite dating types at the same time. This means, more simply, that I am very comfortable in a long term relationship, and have also thoroughly enjoyed playing the field.
So to answer the second question, why should we evolve our relationship if the beginning is the best part? Well I think we should allow our relationship to progress because it is inevitable anyways. Nobody enjoys a relationship that feels as though it is going nowhere. The speed with which it progresses of course is dictated by the level of intimacy that both people are comfortable with. Think of each of these levels of a relationship as flavours of ice cream. While it is good to eat ice cream, and the first time you taste a new flavour is incredible, you would get sick of it if it was the only flavour you could ever eat. That being said, my theory for a solid relationship is to have all flavours all the time. Just because you hit the next level, it doesn't mean you need to abandon the previous ones. Have your cake and eat it too (man I shouldn't write when I am hungry)
I believe that if you treat every date like the first date, and treat your wife like your girlfriend forever, you'll still have googly eyes for each other when you need coke bottle lenses to see them.
Thanks for the response, I hope to have more feedback from you all, and new topics. Ask me anything, I like to run my mouth!
Friday, April 27, 2007
Never Underestimate
When I first started writing this thing, it was all about hooking up and bagging chicks. A bit into it I found one that once bagged and tagged I couldn't follow my own "Catch and Release" philosophy. So this is just to say that while I have no moral quandary with fucking around (as an idea), I am now completely incapable of it. I found something that transcends my previous actions. No worries to those still in the game, play hard play strong, balls to the wall, and get those trophies, but to those who have that one girl that they say changed everything...I completely fucking understand.
When you first find out a girl is into you (if it is not just some random pickup), odds are you're finding it out from a friend. That friend is like "Bro she's totally into you", so whatever, you're cool right, just grab her number and give her a shout. But you're not cool. Whenever you meet a girl you think has some potential you're the same little punk who had trouble meeting the pretty girl's eye in high school. So you hang onto her number for a week or two before calling her, and you talk and talk, and you say, "We should hang out sometime" to which she responds,
"I'd like that".
Game over, you're fucking floored, three little words and all of a sudden you forget that you need air to live. But you go out, and if you're able to form words that she likes, maybe you can keep hanging out. At this point you talk daily, it seems like a day without her voice is like the sun hasn't risen yet (and I know you're young, but if you had to choose between her and the sun, you'd be one nocturnal son of a gun-Gym School Heroes). Whatever the time line, you'll come to the second round of torture (but the good kind)
I've been thinking about you
You hear this and all of a sudden you've hit a new high, but you've also hit your first low without realizing it, because all of a sudden I'd like that means nothing to you. But who cares right? you have I've been thinking about you so you're flying, but it gets better/worse
I think I'm in love with you
And all of a sudden every word you've ever heard thus far no longer means shit. You entire universe is imploding in the heat of those words, and it's not even certainty, she only thinks it. Of course once the ground is safe, she will stop thinking, and know, and then if she ever says she thinks again, it'll be a fucking insult.
The craziest thing about all of these words is that they meant so much at the time, and mean nothing once the next level is reached. It's really sad, because I think this is why most relationships don't work, because we give too much power to some thoughts, and not enough to others. Love is great, but it's not enough, sometimes she has to be thinking about you, other times she's gotta just think she's falling in love with you again, and sometimes she's just gotta like it. It doesn't even matter what it is, whether it is a movie, a coffee, some drinks, or a marriage proposal, if the answer is "I'd like that" you'll really like it.
Cheer's first round's on...anyone else but me...I'd like that
(Thanks to JM for the original idea)
When you first find out a girl is into you (if it is not just some random pickup), odds are you're finding it out from a friend. That friend is like "Bro she's totally into you", so whatever, you're cool right, just grab her number and give her a shout. But you're not cool. Whenever you meet a girl you think has some potential you're the same little punk who had trouble meeting the pretty girl's eye in high school. So you hang onto her number for a week or two before calling her, and you talk and talk, and you say, "We should hang out sometime" to which she responds,
"I'd like that".
Game over, you're fucking floored, three little words and all of a sudden you forget that you need air to live. But you go out, and if you're able to form words that she likes, maybe you can keep hanging out. At this point you talk daily, it seems like a day without her voice is like the sun hasn't risen yet (and I know you're young, but if you had to choose between her and the sun, you'd be one nocturnal son of a gun-Gym School Heroes). Whatever the time line, you'll come to the second round of torture (but the good kind)
I've been thinking about you
You hear this and all of a sudden you've hit a new high, but you've also hit your first low without realizing it, because all of a sudden I'd like that means nothing to you. But who cares right? you have I've been thinking about you so you're flying, but it gets better/worse
I think I'm in love with you
And all of a sudden every word you've ever heard thus far no longer means shit. You entire universe is imploding in the heat of those words, and it's not even certainty, she only thinks it. Of course once the ground is safe, she will stop thinking, and know, and then if she ever says she thinks again, it'll be a fucking insult.
The craziest thing about all of these words is that they meant so much at the time, and mean nothing once the next level is reached. It's really sad, because I think this is why most relationships don't work, because we give too much power to some thoughts, and not enough to others. Love is great, but it's not enough, sometimes she has to be thinking about you, other times she's gotta just think she's falling in love with you again, and sometimes she's just gotta like it. It doesn't even matter what it is, whether it is a movie, a coffee, some drinks, or a marriage proposal, if the answer is "I'd like that" you'll really like it.
Cheer's first round's on...anyone else but me...I'd like that
(Thanks to JM for the original idea)
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Bullshit and Confusion
I am convinved that unless I quit I am going to become a partner at my firm. I do not work nearly as hard as I should, and if this is were my company I would shit-can myself in a second (The New York or regualr version, whichever is quicker), but for some reason I am moving ahead at a pretty decent pace. The evaluations I am getting are good (or at least the ones I take the time to do are), some of them are better than good. I have been told by the highest ranking parrtners that they have yet to meet someone at my level that is as responsible and mature as me. They like my dedication and can see big things for me.
Maybe I should let them read this? It should level the playing field I suppose.
Anyways I am a bit dry on the humour front for right now, my life is a bit stagnant for the moment, I am being blown away by the creativity of others, and am more than a bit jealous at seeing people living what should be my life. Watch out though, i feel good things on the way, so stay tuned.
Maybe I should let them read this? It should level the playing field I suppose.
Anyways I am a bit dry on the humour front for right now, my life is a bit stagnant for the moment, I am being blown away by the creativity of others, and am more than a bit jealous at seeing people living what should be my life. Watch out though, i feel good things on the way, so stay tuned.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
I am a 12 year old
Every now and then you have a defining moment that changes your life forever. For me it was when I figured out that the people who wrote the books I loved to read actually did this for a job. They didn't come home at the end of the day pissed off, or get up super early to go and grind out their lives to pay their bills. They woke up when they wanted, they WROTE and got paid. I was 12 and knew I was going to do that. Then I grew up, and I got scared.
I sold out, I'm not going to lie, I gave up writing to become an accountant. I get up early every day to grind out my life to pay my bills. I get home every night, not pissed off, but definitely not proud. It really sucks. Now obviously this site is an effort to write enough to get the material for a book, but this job is killing me. It's hard to be creative when you're mentally exhausted. So I skip days, and I go on to the "more important things in life"
I went to a concert yesterday, John Mayer. It was amazing, I became 12 again, in wonder that someone could be doing what they love in life. I have no idea what comes next, and how I am going to get to my goal, but I do know this, my days as an accountant are numbered, I need to get out into the world, and out of this sheltered existence.
Also I really need to learn how to play a guitar :)
I sold out, I'm not going to lie, I gave up writing to become an accountant. I get up early every day to grind out my life to pay my bills. I get home every night, not pissed off, but definitely not proud. It really sucks. Now obviously this site is an effort to write enough to get the material for a book, but this job is killing me. It's hard to be creative when you're mentally exhausted. So I skip days, and I go on to the "more important things in life"
I went to a concert yesterday, John Mayer. It was amazing, I became 12 again, in wonder that someone could be doing what they love in life. I have no idea what comes next, and how I am going to get to my goal, but I do know this, my days as an accountant are numbered, I need to get out into the world, and out of this sheltered existence.
Also I really need to learn how to play a guitar :)
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
There's no one else but...
See I can't really put names on here, but if you can imagine a Swiss accent, Girly and her best friend would be cracking up right now. This is because last week I had the good fortune of taking my Girly out on the town, for drinks and dancing. Her best friend and roomie tagged along, and brought a date. This girl is something else let me tell you. I have tried my hand at juggling girls before, and have had the good fortune of having a menagerie of "Speed Dial Associates", these entrepreneurial females that wanted nothing better than to assist me whenever I have found myself alone and in need of their skills. They weren't even hooker's either, although they did have some Ho-ish tendencies. All this is in the past of course, because I am happily locked in. I know I know, way to think it through, one girl forever. If you knew this girl, you'd get it. I really can't explain it any better than that. So for the time being I am out of the game. Ideally it would be a permanent condition, but shit happens, she could go crazy or get hit by a bus (or go crazy and run around hitting buses). enough about that, I'm talking about her friend.
This girl doesn't juggle fuck friends, she actually has two distinct relationships going. Both of whom she claims to be in love with, and both of whom are evidently in love with her. This shit is insanity, mainly because i hear about it almost daily, with this girl freaked out about who to choose, because both guys are pretty cool, and both are willing to give her good stuff.
I am supposed to be good at dispensing advice, so i will do my best to work out this situation. Although this might seem like a nice thing to do, it is mainly so that she can stop waking me up in the morning and sitting on the bed an jabbering my Girly, while I'm nursing some morning wood.
Both guys seem nice, one is foreign, one is from here. You have a problem right here, foreign people can get deported. SO one would think go with the home-grown hero.
Foreign boy is beloved by my Girly, while the HGH is despised. I personally think they are both good guys to hang out with. SO in the interest of friendship, it's one point for the Swiss chalet.
HGH is rich.
Swiss chalet is taking her away for a month in Europe.
HGH is apparently a demon in the sack
Swiss Chalet is apparently a quick study.
Holy fuck that is a tough call. If they were chicks I'd say go for the one with the biggest rack, but in this case I'm going to have to side with the Swiss Chalet, because HGH is way too successful, and makes me feel bad about myself. Besides when Swiss boy gets wrecked and starts bitching about how perfect for her he would be, he buys me drinks.
Cheers! First round's on...whoever Girly's Friend is dating this week.
This girl doesn't juggle fuck friends, she actually has two distinct relationships going. Both of whom she claims to be in love with, and both of whom are evidently in love with her. This shit is insanity, mainly because i hear about it almost daily, with this girl freaked out about who to choose, because both guys are pretty cool, and both are willing to give her good stuff.
I am supposed to be good at dispensing advice, so i will do my best to work out this situation. Although this might seem like a nice thing to do, it is mainly so that she can stop waking me up in the morning and sitting on the bed an jabbering my Girly, while I'm nursing some morning wood.
Both guys seem nice, one is foreign, one is from here. You have a problem right here, foreign people can get deported. SO one would think go with the home-grown hero.
Foreign boy is beloved by my Girly, while the HGH is despised. I personally think they are both good guys to hang out with. SO in the interest of friendship, it's one point for the Swiss chalet.
HGH is rich.
Swiss chalet is taking her away for a month in Europe.
HGH is apparently a demon in the sack
Swiss Chalet is apparently a quick study.
Holy fuck that is a tough call. If they were chicks I'd say go for the one with the biggest rack, but in this case I'm going to have to side with the Swiss Chalet, because HGH is way too successful, and makes me feel bad about myself. Besides when Swiss boy gets wrecked and starts bitching about how perfect for her he would be, he buys me drinks.
Cheers! First round's on...whoever Girly's Friend is dating this week.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
People that should be shot in the face with Phirranas
My shit is crazy right now. Work decided to pick up right around the time that I was moving, becoming more serious with Girly, and my nuclear family was having a nuclear meltdown. Allow me to postpone the funny for a bit so that I could rant about what (or more clearly who) has been pissing me off.
The following is a list of people who should be shot...out of a cannon...into another cannon, and then shot at a wall of bricks, broken glass and salt.
Recidivist daters
The following is a list of people who should be shot...out of a cannon...into another cannon, and then shot at a wall of bricks, broken glass and salt.
Recidivist daters
The guy was a dickface every other time you were together, and she made your life a living hell for almost the entire time you were together. Why the fuck do you think this time will be any better. I mean sure he just got out of rehab, and fine she is technically off parole, but I mean my fucking god, is it that difficult to find new mistakes to make that it is absolutely necessary to repeat the old ones. These people should be flayed slowly with a rusted spoon
14 year old girls
True, were we to destroy all of these retards our future on this planet would be somewhat limited, but with the way they speak, is this such a bad thing? I had the pleasure of sitting in front of two of these blissfully ignorant creatures this morning on the bus. A culture that has told them they were ugly on the outside since their birth, has finally made them ugly on the inside as well. They spent the entire busride reading through a celebrity gossip magazine, insulting every dress, haristyle, and skintone they saw. And I swear to Christ when one of them made a slightly droll comment, the other (and I promise I am not making this up) responded LOL. This was a real time conversation, and this fucktard used an instant message slang term. Can we not do the planet a favour and drown these people in the shallow gene pool they came from?
People named Chad
I just think this is an awful name. While we're at it, let's take a quick minute to hit people named, Tucker, Lance, Chester, Scooter, Cooter, JC, JT, JM (actually anyone who refers to themself as initials) with a large plank that has a nail in it. While we're at it let's give a plasma bath to anyone who names their kid Junior, and an acid shower to grown men who refer to their father as "My Daddy". We'll need a couple of Tony's a Vinnie, and maybe a Mike or two, but we can definitely take these people out. Fuck Tucker; Tucker Sucks!!!
Stupid Fucking NickNames
Anyone who allows themselves to be referred to as Teddy, Fuzzy, or Pookie, and any other nick name that makes reference to a bear, should be made to fist fight a Kodiak bear wearing boxing gloves made out of steak. If you can take out 1500 pounds of nature's fury, I'll call you Fuzzy. While we're at it, some of these dickwads above (specifically the Chester's of the world) try and spruce up their name to sound less gay. Chaz is not a suitable replacement for Chester, unless you're Chaz Palmieri, in which case you can do whatever you want.
This is all for now, but I'm sure to be pissed off again in a bit.
Cheer's first round's on...anyone but me! Try fuzzy over there, he doesn't have anymore hands, but he still has a tab at the bar.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Sister Fister
I am seriously a sick bastard I'm sure. My buddy's love hanging out with me. We have a blast every time. Even the shitty times are great because we laugh about them every other time. That being said, there must be something seriously wrong with me, because my friend's don't want me hanging out anywhere near their sisters.
I wonder what it is about guys. We love girls, the trashier the better most of the time. We like hooking up with skeezes in random situations, and love it when our Boyz do too. That being said though, we have this insane idea that our sister's are going to be these pristine angels, that our buddies will somehow corrupt. Gentlemen listen carefully, none of your buddies are rapists. If they somehow manage to bang your sister, she totally wanted it. Also if you think one of your friends might be a rapist, then dude re-evaluate your friendship criteria.
I can't say anything more on the subject so I'm just going to add a list of girls who, if I woke up one day and found out I was their brother i'd put a gun in my mouth. This is either because they are such a ho I'd want to kill myself, or because I know I would have less of a shot getting with them than I do now. Guess which is which.
Pamela Anderson
Carmen Electra
Elisha Cuthbert
Paris Hilton
Kim Kardashian
Anyone of the PussyCat Dolls (do those bitches even have a name)
Jessica Biel
Jessica Alba
Jessica Simpson
Ashlee Simpson
Shannon Tweed
Shanna Moakler
Any Extra on Entourage
that's it for now, I'll probably think of more later.
I wonder what it is about guys. We love girls, the trashier the better most of the time. We like hooking up with skeezes in random situations, and love it when our Boyz do too. That being said though, we have this insane idea that our sister's are going to be these pristine angels, that our buddies will somehow corrupt. Gentlemen listen carefully, none of your buddies are rapists. If they somehow manage to bang your sister, she totally wanted it. Also if you think one of your friends might be a rapist, then dude re-evaluate your friendship criteria.
I can't say anything more on the subject so I'm just going to add a list of girls who, if I woke up one day and found out I was their brother i'd put a gun in my mouth. This is either because they are such a ho I'd want to kill myself, or because I know I would have less of a shot getting with them than I do now. Guess which is which.
Pamela Anderson
Carmen Electra
Elisha Cuthbert
Paris Hilton
Kim Kardashian
Anyone of the PussyCat Dolls (do those bitches even have a name)
Jessica Biel
Jessica Alba
Jessica Simpson
Ashlee Simpson
Shannon Tweed
Shanna Moakler
Any Extra on Entourage
that's it for now, I'll probably think of more later.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
The Great Debate
Wow I really suck.
It has been like a week since the last time I wrote. I know this because I have been threatened by some people to write something new. I feel like every time I miss a day I need to explain myself, and no matter what I say it'll never get me out of the trouble I'm trying to get out of. I have a fool proof method though, I will try to be incredible vague, and hopefully you'll all work out the details in your head until it satisfies you. So here goes.I haven't written in a week because of (insert plausible excuse here including: Mass Lay-Offs at my company, a death in the family, a religious holiday celebrating the death of my saviour...with chocolate bunnies??? And Ninjas...always ninjas)
So onto the post of the Day. A lot has happened recently, though not enough for me to randomly while away my time talking to people. A conversation I had recently was about me locking down a new apartment (this place is so sweet and dirt cheap, I'm expecting to find a ghost in it). Any way I was speaking to a Jewel of a girl lately (not my girly, but still a cool chick). And she was debating getting a car or renting an apartment. To me it was a no-brainer, and I'm going to explain why.
Being Drunk
Being drunk makes your car useless to you. Being Drunk is exactly what your apartment is for. If you get sauced and drive, you can go to Jail or kill someone. If you get smashed and go back to your apartment, you get labelled as at least marginally responsible (and honestly folks, that is all that I can hope for, the illusion of seminal responsibility).
Furthermore having a car means you never get drunk at a party ever again. Whereas if all you have is a place to crash, you can get messed at other people's place all the time. Make sure to puke in the street and not in your pad though. Seriously who wants to clean that junk.
Responsibilities
You have to pay rent, you have to pay the monthly car bill, so they are tied in this respect. If you have a car though, people expect you to be the designated driver. If you didn't like to drive you wouldn't have bought a car, right? If you have an apartment, people expect you to party hard, but to let them crash out (Seriously Bramo you've gotta help me choose a sofa/your bed bro).
If you drive people around, they rarely cover their costs. You have to pay for gas and people never give you enough. They expect to never pay more than they would for a cab, except you don't have a metre on your car. Apparently in the cabs they take, a trip from the south shore to Laval and back costs five bucks. You look at this moist crumpled blue bill in their hands and you're so pissed that all you can say is, "No thanks, it was my pleasure". If you tell someone they can crash out at your place, they'll chip in halfsies for the cab (which is precisely calibrated so no one is getting gypped), and they'll probably buy you a beer and a shot (which is way more than the measly five they'd offer driver boy). This is starting to look like a lopsided contest already.
Mackin Chicks
You can have the nicest car in the world, as soon as you tell a girly that you're driving your Escalade back to your momma's place so she has to keep her voice down, the only thing going down that night is your hopes of getting laid. You can park your scooter in the closet of your flop house if you want to, tell her you have no room mates and that she can be as loud as she wants to, she'll probably see it as a challenge and gladly take you up on it.
Getting Down
Once the lovin has started the apartment wins hands down, if only by virtue of replay value. If you've had sex in the back of one car you've banged in the back of them all (and if you've banged in the back of them all, then ewww). However there are so many rooms and balconies, and stair cases and fire escapes and roofs to an apartment, that there is a veritable deluge of opportunities for either comfort or spontaneity to your sexual adventures. Enjoy them all.
So basically it appears like a hands down victory for an apartment in the city versus a Mazda at your mom's place. True if you pay rent you have nothing tangible to show for it at the end of it all. As far as I'm considered though you can keep your spare set of tires, your rust and insurance hikes, I'll keep the memories of all the fun times at my first pad. There's a bar right down the street where the locals will be hearing me soon yelling out...
Cheers! First round's on...anyone but me! The guy with the car will be having a coke
It has been like a week since the last time I wrote. I know this because I have been threatened by some people to write something new. I feel like every time I miss a day I need to explain myself, and no matter what I say it'll never get me out of the trouble I'm trying to get out of. I have a fool proof method though, I will try to be incredible vague, and hopefully you'll all work out the details in your head until it satisfies you. So here goes.I haven't written in a week because of (insert plausible excuse here including: Mass Lay-Offs at my company, a death in the family, a religious holiday celebrating the death of my saviour...with chocolate bunnies??? And Ninjas...always ninjas)
So onto the post of the Day. A lot has happened recently, though not enough for me to randomly while away my time talking to people. A conversation I had recently was about me locking down a new apartment (this place is so sweet and dirt cheap, I'm expecting to find a ghost in it). Any way I was speaking to a Jewel of a girl lately (not my girly, but still a cool chick). And she was debating getting a car or renting an apartment. To me it was a no-brainer, and I'm going to explain why.
Being Drunk
Being drunk makes your car useless to you. Being Drunk is exactly what your apartment is for. If you get sauced and drive, you can go to Jail or kill someone. If you get smashed and go back to your apartment, you get labelled as at least marginally responsible (and honestly folks, that is all that I can hope for, the illusion of seminal responsibility).
Furthermore having a car means you never get drunk at a party ever again. Whereas if all you have is a place to crash, you can get messed at other people's place all the time. Make sure to puke in the street and not in your pad though. Seriously who wants to clean that junk.
Responsibilities
You have to pay rent, you have to pay the monthly car bill, so they are tied in this respect. If you have a car though, people expect you to be the designated driver. If you didn't like to drive you wouldn't have bought a car, right? If you have an apartment, people expect you to party hard, but to let them crash out (Seriously Bramo you've gotta help me choose a sofa/your bed bro).
If you drive people around, they rarely cover their costs. You have to pay for gas and people never give you enough. They expect to never pay more than they would for a cab, except you don't have a metre on your car. Apparently in the cabs they take, a trip from the south shore to Laval and back costs five bucks. You look at this moist crumpled blue bill in their hands and you're so pissed that all you can say is, "No thanks, it was my pleasure". If you tell someone they can crash out at your place, they'll chip in halfsies for the cab (which is precisely calibrated so no one is getting gypped), and they'll probably buy you a beer and a shot (which is way more than the measly five they'd offer driver boy). This is starting to look like a lopsided contest already.
Mackin Chicks
You can have the nicest car in the world, as soon as you tell a girly that you're driving your Escalade back to your momma's place so she has to keep her voice down, the only thing going down that night is your hopes of getting laid. You can park your scooter in the closet of your flop house if you want to, tell her you have no room mates and that she can be as loud as she wants to, she'll probably see it as a challenge and gladly take you up on it.
Getting Down
Once the lovin has started the apartment wins hands down, if only by virtue of replay value. If you've had sex in the back of one car you've banged in the back of them all (and if you've banged in the back of them all, then ewww). However there are so many rooms and balconies, and stair cases and fire escapes and roofs to an apartment, that there is a veritable deluge of opportunities for either comfort or spontaneity to your sexual adventures. Enjoy them all.
So basically it appears like a hands down victory for an apartment in the city versus a Mazda at your mom's place. True if you pay rent you have nothing tangible to show for it at the end of it all. As far as I'm considered though you can keep your spare set of tires, your rust and insurance hikes, I'll keep the memories of all the fun times at my first pad. There's a bar right down the street where the locals will be hearing me soon yelling out...
Cheers! First round's on...anyone but me! The guy with the car will be having a coke
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Thoughts that keep me from making any real progress in life volume 1
I can't believe I got 10 emails from people asking me why I didn't write on Friday. It was April 20th, 4-20. If you guys have no idea why I was unable to string coherent thoughts together, you have not been paying attention.
I sometimes skip days when writing this, not because I am out of ideas, but simply because I sometimes have trouble making an article based on one theme. I also procrastinate and have sex and then I'm tired. Mostly though I get lost in tangents, thoughts that keep me from making any real progress, both here, and everywhere else in life.
Here are some examples:
Have you ever wondered if those hippos were really hungry hungry, or did they have an eating disorder?
What would happen if you googled Google? Also I am afraid to check it out, because I am genuinely afraid it would cause a rift in the space time continuum.
Why is it that you Girlz want to go out and do something (nothing specific just SOMETHING)whenever us Boyz have a good groove going, where we have a nice sandwich a big glass of something cold and a remote control and/or a video game at the farthest level we have been to. Is it a game you play with us, like when we wave a bone in front of a dog, to see it go up on two legs.
Why is it that most guys find music by Bon Jovi, N'Sync, Bryan Adams, and John Mayer gay? I mean with the exception of that one member of N'Sync, these guys have thought up tunes that make the girlies swoon. If you take a weekend to learn Bed of Roses, Your Body is a wonderland, or Really love a woman, and sing it to any girl, odds are you're going to bang her. That seems pretty un-gay to me.
Is there at this moment somebody somewhere on the other side of the world wondering if at this moment there is somebody somewhere on the other side of the world wondering if at this moment on the other side of the world...(it is a long thought and it took me a few minutes just to write this down).
Do we all see the same colours? I look up at the sky and say it is blue, simply because I have been told that the colour I see when I look up is called blue. How do I know that what I think is blue is not the same colour visually as what you call the colour green. Seriously guys this fucking thought comes back to me too often for it to be healthy.
I bet I could be a really good guitar player. Seriously, no matter how many jump shots I take i will never be as good as Jordan, but I have this recurring thought that with enough practice I could be an amazing guitar player. I have never picked up a guitar because I don't want to kill this potential greatness i feel inside of me.
I have more but as I am writing this at work it is actually becoming an activity keeping me from making any real progress in my career.
Cheers!
I sometimes skip days when writing this, not because I am out of ideas, but simply because I sometimes have trouble making an article based on one theme. I also procrastinate and have sex and then I'm tired. Mostly though I get lost in tangents, thoughts that keep me from making any real progress, both here, and everywhere else in life.
Here are some examples:
Have you ever wondered if those hippos were really hungry hungry, or did they have an eating disorder?
What would happen if you googled Google? Also I am afraid to check it out, because I am genuinely afraid it would cause a rift in the space time continuum.
Why is it that you Girlz want to go out and do something (nothing specific just SOMETHING)whenever us Boyz have a good groove going, where we have a nice sandwich a big glass of something cold and a remote control and/or a video game at the farthest level we have been to. Is it a game you play with us, like when we wave a bone in front of a dog, to see it go up on two legs.
Why is it that most guys find music by Bon Jovi, N'Sync, Bryan Adams, and John Mayer gay? I mean with the exception of that one member of N'Sync, these guys have thought up tunes that make the girlies swoon. If you take a weekend to learn Bed of Roses, Your Body is a wonderland, or Really love a woman, and sing it to any girl, odds are you're going to bang her. That seems pretty un-gay to me.
Is there at this moment somebody somewhere on the other side of the world wondering if at this moment there is somebody somewhere on the other side of the world wondering if at this moment on the other side of the world...(it is a long thought and it took me a few minutes just to write this down).
Do we all see the same colours? I look up at the sky and say it is blue, simply because I have been told that the colour I see when I look up is called blue. How do I know that what I think is blue is not the same colour visually as what you call the colour green. Seriously guys this fucking thought comes back to me too often for it to be healthy.
I bet I could be a really good guitar player. Seriously, no matter how many jump shots I take i will never be as good as Jordan, but I have this recurring thought that with enough practice I could be an amazing guitar player. I have never picked up a guitar because I don't want to kill this potential greatness i feel inside of me.
I have more but as I am writing this at work it is actually becoming an activity keeping me from making any real progress in my career.
Cheers!
Monday, April 2, 2007
Support Single Mother Students, one club at a time
So I went out this weekend, and as always, ended up doing some pretty messed up stuff. I waited for Bramo to meet up with me, for about 2 hours (a word to the wise, if you know a guy who allows people to add an O to the end of his name, odds are he'll always be fucking late, but it'll normally be worth the wait). While waiting I saw two homeless guys get into a fistfight for 20 bucks, I saw a guy get arrested for soliciting a prostitute, and I saw a girl throw up on one pissed off Lebanese shish taouk vendor. He might have been pissed off prior to being the target of projectile vomiting, I am not sure. I am absolutely certain he was upset afterwards. I am also pretty certain that Hameed and Daoud did not do a great job of cleaning up, so I will never eat at this Restaurant.
Now Bram shows up, two hours after the five minutes it was supposed to take, apologizing profusely for his tardiness, and proceeds to take me to an undisclosed location. My pulse quickens slightly as he leads me to a building that houses an ex-girlfriend of mine, but it quickly subsides as I realize that whoever we are going to see is on a lower floor (and subsequently at a lower pay-grade, so hopefully she has lower expectations).
If I was pissed at Bram before, and I can honestly say I was not based on the wicked entertainment this city had already provided me, I am definitely not pissed anymore, as this apartment is full of hot drunk chicks. I automatically know this is going to be a good night, as the girls unanimously decide to hit a strip club. I was mistaken.
Boys never bring chicks to a strip club, it fucking sucks. They are checking out the chicks, but complaining about how fake they look and how much they're all whores. Of course they're whores, they get naked for money, you knew this when you walked in. Being taken aback by whores at a strip club is like walking into a butcher and saying, "Hmmm there sure is a lot of meat here". A strip club is a lot like a butcher actually, except if you eat the meat here you get kicked out.
Also guys like the fakeness, it's a plus for us. And not even in the way you think either. I mean fake tits are cool and all, but it's more the fake attitude we dig. These girls aren't real at all. When they are dancing for us, they are acting like they enjoy taking care of us, and never ask for a backrub. If they have a problem with their body they fix it, surgically if they have to. They don't set emotional mine fields for us to slip in, they don't bitch about body parts , they nip their tits, tuck their butts, pump their lips and zip them while they're at it. A woman that never has a headache, never has a period, loves to fool around, and doesn't talk about their day. These women are fucking fake, and you noticing their tits ladies is an extreme example of superficiality.
So basically Boyz, if you want to enjoy a strip club, leave the ladies at home, they're just going to make you feel awkward for wanting to see boobs, and the ones that enjoy it, are way to many hassles outside of the club for you to deal with. Leave the skirts at home, and hit the club with your buddies. and if you see me in the midst of all the luscious ladies you might hear me yell,
Cheers! First round's on...anyone but me!
And remember, there's no sex in the champagne room.
The Toine test, or How much do you really love me?
So I can start by saying I'm sorry for not posting a new article since Wednesday night (for Thursday), or I can say fuck you, I took a 3 day weekend and wanted to enjoy it. It's bad enough I am addicted to Adsense and Facebook (Girly commenting that I checked every day and that was a lot, her not knowing that for every one time she saw me, I checked like 3 times that she didn't). I had to stay away from a computer to enjoy the fresh air.
I spent some time with my Pops this weekend, and as always when I'm with him I feel like I can do anything. I feel bad for those out there that have never felt the unconditional support of a parent. And I'm not talking about you people out there who have parents that are proud that you're going into actuarial studies or medicine or I-banking. Your parents aren't proud of you, they're simply happy that you've picked a job that will get them off of their couch and out into the grind. If you think they support you unconditionally try the Toine test. This is a test I have devised and perfected in the only lab that matters, the streets. Basically choose a "good" career (I chose accounting). The more likely this career is to generate a steady revenue, the better. Now get 99% through the completion of this degree, and stop doing it. I have 87 credits completed of a 90 credit undergrad program. Not having completed has stopped me from graduating, and pursuing any further education. Now tell your parents that you would forsake guaranteed employment and a shitload of money to do what you actually love. I of course want to be a writer. Perhaps you want to be a painter or a chemist, or a mercenary for hire. In any event the less likely this is to provide you with decent money the better. All your parents want for you is your happiness right? They should have no problem supplementing your income while you eat golden grahams and write then.
Go ahead and try this out, you'll see how full of shit your parents probably are. I know my mom is, she'll barely look at me anymore, and told me I can't go visit my grandmother again until I have a diploma. Considering my grandmother is half senile, and keeps calling my Jo, I don't understand why such advanced education is necessary. Maybe my mom thinks I was studying to be a doctor.
My dad however loves that I'm such a goof off. And while my parents are separated, I don't think it's a ploy for my love. He genuinely loves hearing about my daily stupidities and has no idea why I wanted to be a numbers guy to begin with. He can't wait to get to a computer to read my daily column, and bust a gut during the one night stand article(he's recovering nicely, I gave him ice cream!!!). He also can't wait for me to quit my job and travel around the world. He believes that retirement is wasted on the old. Young people should enjoy life while they're fearless, and settle down into work when they're old.
So go ahead tell your parents that you want to give up business to be a clown, see how much they laugh. And when you pussy out under the weight of the guilt you can tell them you were joking. They will laugh nervously and might even give you 20 bucks and tell you to go let go of some steam, you crazy kid. And when you get to the bar to drown your sorrows (this will be the only source of happiness in your life, as you are about to sell yourself into a career you hate for the next 40 years or so), you'll hear me yelling
Cheers! First round's on...my DAD!!!
I spent some time with my Pops this weekend, and as always when I'm with him I feel like I can do anything. I feel bad for those out there that have never felt the unconditional support of a parent. And I'm not talking about you people out there who have parents that are proud that you're going into actuarial studies or medicine or I-banking. Your parents aren't proud of you, they're simply happy that you've picked a job that will get them off of their couch and out into the grind. If you think they support you unconditionally try the Toine test. This is a test I have devised and perfected in the only lab that matters, the streets. Basically choose a "good" career (I chose accounting). The more likely this career is to generate a steady revenue, the better. Now get 99% through the completion of this degree, and stop doing it. I have 87 credits completed of a 90 credit undergrad program. Not having completed has stopped me from graduating, and pursuing any further education. Now tell your parents that you would forsake guaranteed employment and a shitload of money to do what you actually love. I of course want to be a writer. Perhaps you want to be a painter or a chemist, or a mercenary for hire. In any event the less likely this is to provide you with decent money the better. All your parents want for you is your happiness right? They should have no problem supplementing your income while you eat golden grahams and write then.
Go ahead and try this out, you'll see how full of shit your parents probably are. I know my mom is, she'll barely look at me anymore, and told me I can't go visit my grandmother again until I have a diploma. Considering my grandmother is half senile, and keeps calling my Jo, I don't understand why such advanced education is necessary. Maybe my mom thinks I was studying to be a doctor.
My dad however loves that I'm such a goof off. And while my parents are separated, I don't think it's a ploy for my love. He genuinely loves hearing about my daily stupidities and has no idea why I wanted to be a numbers guy to begin with. He can't wait to get to a computer to read my daily column, and bust a gut during the one night stand article(he's recovering nicely, I gave him ice cream!!!). He also can't wait for me to quit my job and travel around the world. He believes that retirement is wasted on the old. Young people should enjoy life while they're fearless, and settle down into work when they're old.
So go ahead tell your parents that you want to give up business to be a clown, see how much they laugh. And when you pussy out under the weight of the guilt you can tell them you were joking. They will laugh nervously and might even give you 20 bucks and tell you to go let go of some steam, you crazy kid. And when you get to the bar to drown your sorrows (this will be the only source of happiness in your life, as you are about to sell yourself into a career you hate for the next 40 years or so), you'll hear me yelling
Cheers! First round's on...my DAD!!!
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Let the games begin
So a lot of cool things are going on. My company is in its infant stages. I'll tell you more about that as time goes on, but suffice it to say that I may have found a way to make money doing the two things I love, writing, and not wearing pants. Also this site is up and running ads. I suggest that you click on them, because the content is probably super great, and you clicking on them gets me paid. I am not allowed to tell you to just click them without looking at what is offered, because that is a violation of my agreement with my advertisers, but I can tell you that I do get paid whether you buy stuff or not. Take it from there to do what you will. I promise that this is the last time I shill (just like a I promise I love you, and that time I promised to tell the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me God).
That being said, the fine credit institution of American Express has decreed in their infinite wisdom that i am an ideal candidate for a Platinum Amex card with a limit of $5800. I in my infinite stupidity have compiled a list of things I could do to max out said Amex. So here for your viewing pleasure is a list of things I could buy with $5800.
580 Lap dances (as soon as I said $5800 all my Boyz immediately thought of this one)
5800 shooters at Peel Pub on Thursday (fuck you shooter girl no tips today)
168 months of membership at a porn site
721 large bottles of hand cream (cuz if you have that much access to porn...)
5009 American Dollars (that's a lot of singles at a titty bar)
193 3 and 1/2's
1060 Poutines at Labelle (after the 3 and 1/2's we'll need at least that)
5800 pieces of dollar pizza (I know a good spot off of Guy that charges no tax)
414 Pitchers of tap beer
828 Pitchers at happy hour (it's always happy hour somewhere right?)
193 24 cases of Labatt Blue
1 Russian mail order bride http://www.womenrussia.com
773 STD tests (fucking mail order brides)
2 50 inch Samsung plasma TV's
7 Ps3's
10 Xbox 360's
20 Nintendo wii's
130 original Nintendo
10 Avtomat Kalashnikova model 1947, otherwise known as an AK-47 (seriously with the rounding, it's roughly the same as an X-Box 360 http://www.eastcoastfirearms.com/, still it's cheaper than a Russian bride, and doesn't choke no matter what you do to it)
9957 Trojan condoms (from a box not a machine)
approximately 7000 diapers if you didn't buy the rubbers
19 1984 ford tempos (it's sad that i paid more for an X-Box than I did for my first car)
19 kawasaki standup jet skis (if you don't mind that it's a 1986)
0.96 Kawasaki Jet Skis (if you do)
5800 Tacos
23238 rolls of toilet paper (cuz god damn you if you eat that many tacos)
232 hardcover books (you'll be in the can for a while)
35% of what my education cost me
1 9 year old female spider monkey (to replace the mail order bride and to entertain)
42 rabies shot
386 copies of Justin Timberlake's new album
11,600 scented candles (settin the mood)
1 Diamond engagement ring (should have stopped at the candles)
Sadly enough I make about $1000 bucks every two weeks after taxes, so if I were to do any of this it would take me (without interest) a little over 2 years to pay this card off. I think I'll be mature and keep the Amex in my pocket.
Cheers! First round's on...Fuck it, it's on me and my Amex!!!
That being said, the fine credit institution of American Express has decreed in their infinite wisdom that i am an ideal candidate for a Platinum Amex card with a limit of $5800. I in my infinite stupidity have compiled a list of things I could do to max out said Amex. So here for your viewing pleasure is a list of things I could buy with $5800.
580 Lap dances (as soon as I said $5800 all my Boyz immediately thought of this one)
5800 shooters at Peel Pub on Thursday (fuck you shooter girl no tips today)
168 months of membership at a porn site
721 large bottles of hand cream (cuz if you have that much access to porn...)
5009 American Dollars (that's a lot of singles at a titty bar)
193 3 and 1/2's
1060 Poutines at Labelle (after the 3 and 1/2's we'll need at least that)
5800 pieces of dollar pizza (I know a good spot off of Guy that charges no tax)
414 Pitchers of tap beer
828 Pitchers at happy hour (it's always happy hour somewhere right?)
193 24 cases of Labatt Blue
1 Russian mail order bride http://www.womenrussia.com
773 STD tests (fucking mail order brides)
2 50 inch Samsung plasma TV's
7 Ps3's
10 Xbox 360's
20 Nintendo wii's
130 original Nintendo
10 Avtomat Kalashnikova model 1947, otherwise known as an AK-47 (seriously with the rounding, it's roughly the same as an X-Box 360 http://www.eastcoastfirearms.com/, still it's cheaper than a Russian bride, and doesn't choke no matter what you do to it)
9957 Trojan condoms (from a box not a machine)
approximately 7000 diapers if you didn't buy the rubbers
19 1984 ford tempos (it's sad that i paid more for an X-Box than I did for my first car)
19 kawasaki standup jet skis (if you don't mind that it's a 1986)
0.96 Kawasaki Jet Skis (if you do)
5800 Tacos
23238 rolls of toilet paper (cuz god damn you if you eat that many tacos)
232 hardcover books (you'll be in the can for a while)
35% of what my education cost me
1 9 year old female spider monkey (to replace the mail order bride and to entertain)
42 rabies shot
386 copies of Justin Timberlake's new album
11,600 scented candles (settin the mood)
1 Diamond engagement ring (should have stopped at the candles)
Sadly enough I make about $1000 bucks every two weeks after taxes, so if I were to do any of this it would take me (without interest) a little over 2 years to pay this card off. I think I'll be mature and keep the Amex in my pocket.
Cheers! First round's on...Fuck it, it's on me and my Amex!!!
I spy with my little eye, boobs pretending to be dudes
Before I begin today's column, cool shit is happening all the time. Not only can I be googled, but I am on the urban dictionary. for those who do not know, http://www.urbandictionary.com is one of my favorite websites, that basically gives dictionary definitions for all of our favorite slang. Not sure what that hobo meant when he said he wanted to give you a Cleveland Steamer when you dropped some Lint and 4 dirty pennies in his coffee? Go check it out!
Now so far my column has been aimed at the fellas, telling you how to infiltrate the minds and pants of whichever conquest you desire. Today deals with the flipside of this. It deals with women who attempt to break into your safe zones in the attempt to spy on you and tell her girl friends all about what we do when they're not around. I'm talking about the dude with boobs.
Not the fat guy either
I'm talking about the girl you know that only hangs out with the guys. Every group has at least one of these girls. She doesn't date anyone of the Boyz, although she may have slept with most of them (if she hasn't slept with you, it really sucks, cuz normally these chicks are serious freaks). She might have started out as one of the Boyz sister's friends, but for one reason or another hangs out more with the Boyz than with the girls she was supposed to see. Also no one really knows how she keeps getting invited over. None of the Boyz will take credit for inviting her, but she always seems to know where you're going to be and when (Considering we spend a lot of time ending up at Selvin's it's a pretty safe bet, but still). I'll solve that mystery right now. You know that one guy who hasn't at least fingerbanged her? He's the one who keeps cluing her in. Kick his ass or make him buy the beers (whichever is your punishment for being a douche).
She tries to act like a guy, but expects to be treated like a handicap. She wants every little piece of sports knowledge to be received like an indication of how cool she is. Bram brought up an interesting point to me the other day (He's back from Boston now, so the quality of these articles should go steadily up, stay tuned we have some doozies coming up). He says, "What's the deal with these chicks? they think knowing who's playing means they're in the game" I of course started laughing hysterically, because I knew exactly what he was talking about. If one of your Boyz came up to you and said, "New York and Montreal are playing tonight right? See I'm cool!" you would beat the fag right out of him, basically until you got tired, only afterwards (and after everyone in the room had the chance to make fun of him at least once) would he be considered marginally cool. Ladies, its not enough to know who's playing, you have to know why we like who we like, and why we hate who we hate, and what the impact of every other game means to us (boy does it suck when you want Toronto to win though, even if it solidifies us in the playoffs. Seriously I had to shower twice this morning).
Highlights don't even count in Hair Dye
It's also aggravating when a girl says "I need to watch the highlights...for my daily fix". This is like a guy saying "I only go to the strip club cuz it's my buddy's birthday". You say these words and we immediately assume you're full of shit. We watch the highlights because there are games you missed, it's impossible to watch everything (no matter how hard Future Shop tries to push Picture-in-Picture). You watch the Highlights because you don't actually like watching a whole game. There's more to the sport than goals and hits. it's about getting so into the goals that you wake up people who are supposed to be on meds, and so into the hits that you accidentally spill beer on the guy next to you, and he doesn't realize it until ten minutes later and thinks he did it to himself, and doesn't mention it to anyone. Also he pulls his shirt down lower because he looks like he pissed himself. Also I'm going to mention he wet himself, because even though I know he didn't because I'm the one who spilled it on him, I'm a bit of an asshole.
She knows EVERYTHING
If there's one thing worse than the girl who knows nothing about sports, it's the one that knows everything. What's the first thing she's going to do with that newfound knowledge? try and make you look stupid. It's not about having all of the facts, it's about having the conviction to make your friends agree with you, even when you're wrong, especially when you're wrong. The Barbies are next to the teaset CupCake, and the babies are upstairs.
Beware the friendless ones
What would you think about a guy who said he was incapable of having male friends because he just "didn't like the way they act"? You'd think there was something really wrong with him, right ladies? Well we think the same thing about you girls who can't stand other girls. Also we think it might be the other girls who can't stand you, and why should we have to, if your own gender doesn't want to be associated with the train wreck that is your life. If there's one thing I've learned from the women in my life, it's that they are generally a lot nicer to the ones that are considered losers than men. If they can't stand you, then you have no chance with the Boyz.
Yesterday was a great day, Crosby got a goal and an assist (I love the Habs, but I am all about the Penguins if it comes down to it, that kid got me back into hockey), We had a decisive win against New York, and Girly fell asleep in my bed while the final minutes wound down. She didn't try and talk to me about my feelings or anything like that. She snuggled up to me me when I finally got to bed and half asleep asked me "did we win?" when I said yes, she said "That's nice, I'm happy you're happy" and fell back asleep. She gets the point. She's my Girly, and knows that means that most of my time is hers, she doesn't need to steal my time from me too. And I was happy, because even though the Boyz weren't all together for this one, we did manage to work out some playoff ticket grab scheme that involves scalping to cover the cost of our tix, beer weed and lapdances...because it's Bram's Birthday....
Cheers! First round's on...anyone but me!
Now so far my column has been aimed at the fellas, telling you how to infiltrate the minds and pants of whichever conquest you desire. Today deals with the flipside of this. It deals with women who attempt to break into your safe zones in the attempt to spy on you and tell her girl friends all about what we do when they're not around. I'm talking about the dude with boobs.
Not the fat guy either
I'm talking about the girl you know that only hangs out with the guys. Every group has at least one of these girls. She doesn't date anyone of the Boyz, although she may have slept with most of them (if she hasn't slept with you, it really sucks, cuz normally these chicks are serious freaks). She might have started out as one of the Boyz sister's friends, but for one reason or another hangs out more with the Boyz than with the girls she was supposed to see. Also no one really knows how she keeps getting invited over. None of the Boyz will take credit for inviting her, but she always seems to know where you're going to be and when (Considering we spend a lot of time ending up at Selvin's it's a pretty safe bet, but still). I'll solve that mystery right now. You know that one guy who hasn't at least fingerbanged her? He's the one who keeps cluing her in. Kick his ass or make him buy the beers (whichever is your punishment for being a douche).
She tries to act like a guy, but expects to be treated like a handicap. She wants every little piece of sports knowledge to be received like an indication of how cool she is. Bram brought up an interesting point to me the other day (He's back from Boston now, so the quality of these articles should go steadily up, stay tuned we have some doozies coming up). He says, "What's the deal with these chicks? they think knowing who's playing means they're in the game" I of course started laughing hysterically, because I knew exactly what he was talking about. If one of your Boyz came up to you and said, "New York and Montreal are playing tonight right? See I'm cool!" you would beat the fag right out of him, basically until you got tired, only afterwards (and after everyone in the room had the chance to make fun of him at least once) would he be considered marginally cool. Ladies, its not enough to know who's playing, you have to know why we like who we like, and why we hate who we hate, and what the impact of every other game means to us (boy does it suck when you want Toronto to win though, even if it solidifies us in the playoffs. Seriously I had to shower twice this morning).
Highlights don't even count in Hair Dye
It's also aggravating when a girl says "I need to watch the highlights...for my daily fix". This is like a guy saying "I only go to the strip club cuz it's my buddy's birthday". You say these words and we immediately assume you're full of shit. We watch the highlights because there are games you missed, it's impossible to watch everything (no matter how hard Future Shop tries to push Picture-in-Picture). You watch the Highlights because you don't actually like watching a whole game. There's more to the sport than goals and hits. it's about getting so into the goals that you wake up people who are supposed to be on meds, and so into the hits that you accidentally spill beer on the guy next to you, and he doesn't realize it until ten minutes later and thinks he did it to himself, and doesn't mention it to anyone. Also he pulls his shirt down lower because he looks like he pissed himself. Also I'm going to mention he wet himself, because even though I know he didn't because I'm the one who spilled it on him, I'm a bit of an asshole.
She knows EVERYTHING
If there's one thing worse than the girl who knows nothing about sports, it's the one that knows everything. What's the first thing she's going to do with that newfound knowledge? try and make you look stupid. It's not about having all of the facts, it's about having the conviction to make your friends agree with you, even when you're wrong, especially when you're wrong. The Barbies are next to the teaset CupCake, and the babies are upstairs.
Beware the friendless ones
What would you think about a guy who said he was incapable of having male friends because he just "didn't like the way they act"? You'd think there was something really wrong with him, right ladies? Well we think the same thing about you girls who can't stand other girls. Also we think it might be the other girls who can't stand you, and why should we have to, if your own gender doesn't want to be associated with the train wreck that is your life. If there's one thing I've learned from the women in my life, it's that they are generally a lot nicer to the ones that are considered losers than men. If they can't stand you, then you have no chance with the Boyz.
Yesterday was a great day, Crosby got a goal and an assist (I love the Habs, but I am all about the Penguins if it comes down to it, that kid got me back into hockey), We had a decisive win against New York, and Girly fell asleep in my bed while the final minutes wound down. She didn't try and talk to me about my feelings or anything like that. She snuggled up to me me when I finally got to bed and half asleep asked me "did we win?" when I said yes, she said "That's nice, I'm happy you're happy" and fell back asleep. She gets the point. She's my Girly, and knows that means that most of my time is hers, she doesn't need to steal my time from me too. And I was happy, because even though the Boyz weren't all together for this one, we did manage to work out some playoff ticket grab scheme that involves scalping to cover the cost of our tix, beer weed and lapdances...because it's Bram's Birthday....
Cheers! First round's on...anyone but me!
Monday, March 26, 2007
Six degrees of Separation, and Separating from it all
I am back at work, and in a bit of a lull, so I was able to put off the post last night and kick back with Girly, knowing full well that I'd be able to write it this morning. Of course being the slacker that I am, I came in 2 hours late, and put off the writing to after lunch (who can write on an empty stomach).
I spent some time speaking to the curvaceous Carolyn, a groupie of sorts of my column (that's right boys there are benefits to writing), and a friend. She was talking about an insane party she went to on the weekend, involving a lot of water, and even more alcohol. I personally think that March is a bit too early for a splash bash, but then again cold wet girls equal a lot of pointed perky nipples, and an extreme desire to get out of wet clothes into warm beds, so I might be a bit backwards on the idea.
As always my first question was, did you hook up with anyone. Normally this is because I am a deviant and a bit overly focused on my and other's sex lives, but now I write a sex column,s o ti's all good. My friends give me a free pass, and girls seem to love the idea of speaking with a pro (and who am I to dissuade them from the idea that I might be a professional, and not just someone who likes talking dirty).
She was telling me that the situation was way to messy to do anything of any fun. Not only was she surrounded by ex boyfriends of hers, the one guy that she might have had an interest in was an ex of a friend. Her question to me was how to get away from the six degrees of separation effect that permeates all of our lives.
Basically, within a chain of 6 people you connect yourself to anybody on the planet. I personally think this is a bit of a stretch, but I have been way too connected to most of the girls I have hooked up with (often only finding out afterwards of course), so I cannot really disregard the notion completely.
Now how do you separate yourself from the trap. You're hitting on a girl, and her ex-boyfriend is in the same room? This is not an easy sell, but with a bit of charm and a lot more luck you can get this done.
The spot
First of all you need to know which girl has a man in the room. This should be easy, look for the girl who is dancing with a group of her friends, and not looking at any of them. Nope this girl is too busy keeping an eye out for her ex. She can practically see through walls to spot him anywhere in the room. She wants to make sure he's not having more fun than she is. it's your job to make sure he is...at first.
The plant
In order for you to be able to get some play with the girl of your most recent daydreams, you're going to have to get her into a position where she'll basically start fooling around with whomever is closest (if you time this right this should be you). The way you accomplish this is to send one of your cock tease female friends over to this other guy and to start grinding him (all of your female friends are just a bunch of teases right? that's why they didn't bang you). Your friend should be up to it, because it is the CT's biggest joy in life to make a guy drool over her, and the Guy should be into it, because some chick came up to him, and so he feels like a pimp.
Once your target sees her ex touching someone else, she'll want to even the score ASAP. You should be very near at hand, as you'll be her rebound. What follows is similar to the script of every teen movie you have ever seen, where both parties escalate until the girl just runs off in distress and the ex follows her, consoles her and they get back together.
Luckily for you, your friend is such a solid Ho, that no man in his right mind will leave, so you'll have to do that comforting for him.
The shoulder
Ask her? What's wrong, did I do something to offend you. Remember you probably had your hand up her skirt and your tongue down her throat, but you'll still seem like a gentleman compared to that sleazy ex of hers that still is nowhere to be found. Tell her that you're usually not that forward, but you felt a connection (she'll think mentally, you'll know it was more your hand to her honey pot). She'll probably be pretty vulnerable right around now, and a bit more comforting could easily lead to some sexual healing.
The Pearly Gates
This is a little reminder that in none of these articles, past, present or future, can I offer any way to save you from going to hell. Luckily enough though, I have a feeling that most of the girls you have been with in this life will be joining you, and who doesn't like it hot?
So there you have it? We all know someone who knows someone you know. For every girl you see there's probably a boy of your boy who has been there first. I can't stop you from feeling bad for sleeping with her, I can't stop you from the drama that will result from you sleeping with her, but if you follow the steps above, I can help you sleep with her. One in three ain't that bad though is it?
And after your hook-up when you get back to the bar ready to re-hydrate for round 2, you'll hear me yelling
Cheers! First round's on...anyone but me...
Unless I'm busy with your ex in the back alley (how romantic)
I spent some time speaking to the curvaceous Carolyn, a groupie of sorts of my column (that's right boys there are benefits to writing), and a friend. She was talking about an insane party she went to on the weekend, involving a lot of water, and even more alcohol. I personally think that March is a bit too early for a splash bash, but then again cold wet girls equal a lot of pointed perky nipples, and an extreme desire to get out of wet clothes into warm beds, so I might be a bit backwards on the idea.
As always my first question was, did you hook up with anyone. Normally this is because I am a deviant and a bit overly focused on my and other's sex lives, but now I write a sex column,s o ti's all good. My friends give me a free pass, and girls seem to love the idea of speaking with a pro (and who am I to dissuade them from the idea that I might be a professional, and not just someone who likes talking dirty).
She was telling me that the situation was way to messy to do anything of any fun. Not only was she surrounded by ex boyfriends of hers, the one guy that she might have had an interest in was an ex of a friend. Her question to me was how to get away from the six degrees of separation effect that permeates all of our lives.
Basically, within a chain of 6 people you connect yourself to anybody on the planet. I personally think this is a bit of a stretch, but I have been way too connected to most of the girls I have hooked up with (often only finding out afterwards of course), so I cannot really disregard the notion completely.
Now how do you separate yourself from the trap. You're hitting on a girl, and her ex-boyfriend is in the same room? This is not an easy sell, but with a bit of charm and a lot more luck you can get this done.
The spot
First of all you need to know which girl has a man in the room. This should be easy, look for the girl who is dancing with a group of her friends, and not looking at any of them. Nope this girl is too busy keeping an eye out for her ex. She can practically see through walls to spot him anywhere in the room. She wants to make sure he's not having more fun than she is. it's your job to make sure he is...at first.
The plant
In order for you to be able to get some play with the girl of your most recent daydreams, you're going to have to get her into a position where she'll basically start fooling around with whomever is closest (if you time this right this should be you). The way you accomplish this is to send one of your cock tease female friends over to this other guy and to start grinding him (all of your female friends are just a bunch of teases right? that's why they didn't bang you). Your friend should be up to it, because it is the CT's biggest joy in life to make a guy drool over her, and the Guy should be into it, because some chick came up to him, and so he feels like a pimp.
Once your target sees her ex touching someone else, she'll want to even the score ASAP. You should be very near at hand, as you'll be her rebound. What follows is similar to the script of every teen movie you have ever seen, where both parties escalate until the girl just runs off in distress and the ex follows her, consoles her and they get back together.
Luckily for you, your friend is such a solid Ho, that no man in his right mind will leave, so you'll have to do that comforting for him.
The shoulder
Ask her? What's wrong, did I do something to offend you. Remember you probably had your hand up her skirt and your tongue down her throat, but you'll still seem like a gentleman compared to that sleazy ex of hers that still is nowhere to be found. Tell her that you're usually not that forward, but you felt a connection (she'll think mentally, you'll know it was more your hand to her honey pot). She'll probably be pretty vulnerable right around now, and a bit more comforting could easily lead to some sexual healing.
The Pearly Gates
This is a little reminder that in none of these articles, past, present or future, can I offer any way to save you from going to hell. Luckily enough though, I have a feeling that most of the girls you have been with in this life will be joining you, and who doesn't like it hot?
So there you have it? We all know someone who knows someone you know. For every girl you see there's probably a boy of your boy who has been there first. I can't stop you from feeling bad for sleeping with her, I can't stop you from the drama that will result from you sleeping with her, but if you follow the steps above, I can help you sleep with her. One in three ain't that bad though is it?
And after your hook-up when you get back to the bar ready to re-hydrate for round 2, you'll hear me yelling
Cheers! First round's on...anyone but me...
Unless I'm busy with your ex in the back alley (how romantic)
Thursday, March 22, 2007
The Triumphant Return
I don't even remember when the last time I wrote was, and that is not a good thing. In my own defense, it is not my fault. If it wasn't 11 hour work days, it was the onslaught of the most vile stomach flu I have ever had (that was a dicey day at the client let me tell you). I find myself back at my desk looking towards the future, and realize I still have a bit of my past to deal with.
Prior to the American attack on my site (henceforth referred to as 3/20), I had a small revelation on the nature of women. I claimed to have had an Epiphany of sorts, which would allow any man to snag any woman, to get her and keep her happy. This secret would allow a man to be any woman's greatest lover, her best friend, her slave and her master all at the same time. It was perfectly written, and absolutely relevant to every one's daily life. Of course it was instantly subverted by the American blog machine, and I had to take it down in order to keep my site my own.
I don't necessarily believe that the American government is trying to keep me from teaching the masses how to please their women, but the timing is more than a little weird. That being said, I have had time to reflect, and I take my original claim back. This piece of advice will not enable you to get ANY woman, it will however be able to get you any woman that matters. You ready for it Boyz?
Pay attention to her
It's really just that simple. Women are people too, only they haven't been trained from birth that feelings are for pussies, as such they express them more. Moreover, they are no smarter than you are. This means that if you listen long enough you will be able to make links between what she says, and what she is about to say. You know how you know who is going to win the big game most of the time, this is basically the same premise. You look for the little clues that most people are not paying attention to, and you bet. Only this time you're betting on yourself, and her, and you as a couple, and if you're right, you get sex. Tons of it.
So that's it for now, keep it in mind Boyz, otherwise just hit up the bar with me.
Cheer's first round's on...anyone but me!
Prior to the American attack on my site (henceforth referred to as 3/20), I had a small revelation on the nature of women. I claimed to have had an Epiphany of sorts, which would allow any man to snag any woman, to get her and keep her happy. This secret would allow a man to be any woman's greatest lover, her best friend, her slave and her master all at the same time. It was perfectly written, and absolutely relevant to every one's daily life. Of course it was instantly subverted by the American blog machine, and I had to take it down in order to keep my site my own.
I don't necessarily believe that the American government is trying to keep me from teaching the masses how to please their women, but the timing is more than a little weird. That being said, I have had time to reflect, and I take my original claim back. This piece of advice will not enable you to get ANY woman, it will however be able to get you any woman that matters. You ready for it Boyz?
Pay attention to her
It's really just that simple. Women are people too, only they haven't been trained from birth that feelings are for pussies, as such they express them more. Moreover, they are no smarter than you are. This means that if you listen long enough you will be able to make links between what she says, and what she is about to say. You know how you know who is going to win the big game most of the time, this is basically the same premise. You look for the little clues that most people are not paying attention to, and you bet. Only this time you're betting on yourself, and her, and you as a couple, and if you're right, you get sex. Tons of it.
So that's it for now, keep it in mind Boyz, otherwise just hit up the bar with me.
Cheer's first round's on...anyone but me!
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Fuckin Americans
I had a wicked post that I wrote. I loved it, it was on how to perfectly please a woman. I discussed it with Girly and her Brother, who is the coolest 16 year old I have yet to meet, and they loved it. He sat there in rapt attention, she looked at me in open admiration, the clouds opened up and god himself gave me a thumbs up. OK maybe it wasn't that good, but Girly told me I had to write this down quick. I got to bed insanely late yesterday writing and editing the post.
When I checked this morning to make sure that it was as beautful on some rest as it was in my exhaustion, I typed in my address, and was greeted by AmericaBlog.com
I was invaded by the Americans people, I am Irak. Anyways the only way to fix this snafoo was to delete my last post and rewrite something else. this is that something else.
Stay tuned tomorrow for what may have been the greatest article ever.
When I checked this morning to make sure that it was as beautful on some rest as it was in my exhaustion, I typed in my address, and was greeted by AmericaBlog.com
I was invaded by the Americans people, I am Irak. Anyways the only way to fix this snafoo was to delete my last post and rewrite something else. this is that something else.
Stay tuned tomorrow for what may have been the greatest article ever.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
St Patty's Day Pt. 2
I'm sure a lot of people would like me to say that I am writing this absolutely shit-faced hungover, but alas this is not the truth. This is not to say that I did not drink too much, or that I was anywhere near responsible (much to my family's chagrin), but I was surrounded by such a group of degenerates that we were able to keep an unhealthy pace, for nearly 13 hours with enough forsight that by the time I went to bed, my buzz had decreased enough for me to think ahead and drink a lot of water. I woke up Sunday morning happy and well rested, and ate some cereal while playing Game Cube with Girly. Spyro is pretty gay, but my partner was cool, so it was a good way to spend the day.
I am proud to report that from 1Pm Saturday afternoon, up until the early hour of 2AM (when I quit the Boyz to meet up with Girly), we did not lose one single Boy. No one passed out, nobody got sick, nobody got arrested. We did get into a fight with some Leaf's fans (a jewish shoving match of the first order), and I did get cracked solidly in the face (I was breaking up a second completely unrelated jewish shoving match, and when I decided everyone was calm enough, I smacked both fighters in the face...smart move on my part that Selvin was quick to reward). I bruised my hip pretty badly, in a piggy back gone wrong moment (We're even Wise, but Bram owes you one, and Im going to help him). I did not get in any trouble when I met up with Girly, wrecked out of my tree, and ready to get to the lovin. She was also in a happy moment, wrecked out of her own tree, and happy to go cuddle. Which we did, and it was awesome.
That being said, I lived some interesting experiences with the Boyz. First of all I felt like a pseudo-celebrity. Bramo has been pushin my column on all of his friends, and apparently it has taken pretty well. When I was introduced to new people more often than not, I was met by "THE Toine...dude I love your column" which I think is great. Also whenever someone said or did something stupid or funny (more often than not the former), I was immediately turned to and asked "Please don't put this into the column". Don't worry dude, I barely remember what I did so your shit is safe.
So Bramo, Ronnie, Selvin, and now Wise...Thanks for the great time, you are some solid Boyz. Bramo says we need to hook up again to drink during the day, I say anytime is a good time. Wise you're going to be a doctor, maybe you can fix my Hip, or at least not break it next time. Baby steps buddy.
It is in these moments that I realized that I was getting older though. Not because any of the guys around me were less into doing stupid shit, but more because the group had no desire to do it at certain locations. Heaven forbid there be 16 year olds there getting retarded alongside us.
As Ronnie says and I whole heartedly agree, if the bar lets them in, they're 18 and anything after is completely legal. It's some sketchy logic, but you can't fault a man for protecting himself for liking them young. Some say if there's grass on the field play ball, others that if there isn't any grass, plant some seeds. I personally think that if the person I'm playing with can swing my bat, I'll pitch all day long (wow I really ran with that analogy).
Last but certainly not least, in the midst of getting in on pictures that I'll never see, getting fake tattooed on very sensitive spots, by very attractive people, and by fake tattooing a breast or two, I never once picked up the first round. Nobody expected me to, nobody wanted to make me a liar.
Cheer's Boyz.
I am proud to report that from 1Pm Saturday afternoon, up until the early hour of 2AM (when I quit the Boyz to meet up with Girly), we did not lose one single Boy. No one passed out, nobody got sick, nobody got arrested. We did get into a fight with some Leaf's fans (a jewish shoving match of the first order), and I did get cracked solidly in the face (I was breaking up a second completely unrelated jewish shoving match, and when I decided everyone was calm enough, I smacked both fighters in the face...smart move on my part that Selvin was quick to reward). I bruised my hip pretty badly, in a piggy back gone wrong moment (We're even Wise, but Bram owes you one, and Im going to help him). I did not get in any trouble when I met up with Girly, wrecked out of my tree, and ready to get to the lovin. She was also in a happy moment, wrecked out of her own tree, and happy to go cuddle. Which we did, and it was awesome.
That being said, I lived some interesting experiences with the Boyz. First of all I felt like a pseudo-celebrity. Bramo has been pushin my column on all of his friends, and apparently it has taken pretty well. When I was introduced to new people more often than not, I was met by "THE Toine...dude I love your column" which I think is great. Also whenever someone said or did something stupid or funny (more often than not the former), I was immediately turned to and asked "Please don't put this into the column". Don't worry dude, I barely remember what I did so your shit is safe.
So Bramo, Ronnie, Selvin, and now Wise...Thanks for the great time, you are some solid Boyz. Bramo says we need to hook up again to drink during the day, I say anytime is a good time. Wise you're going to be a doctor, maybe you can fix my Hip, or at least not break it next time. Baby steps buddy.
It is in these moments that I realized that I was getting older though. Not because any of the guys around me were less into doing stupid shit, but more because the group had no desire to do it at certain locations. Heaven forbid there be 16 year olds there getting retarded alongside us.
As Ronnie says and I whole heartedly agree, if the bar lets them in, they're 18 and anything after is completely legal. It's some sketchy logic, but you can't fault a man for protecting himself for liking them young. Some say if there's grass on the field play ball, others that if there isn't any grass, plant some seeds. I personally think that if the person I'm playing with can swing my bat, I'll pitch all day long (wow I really ran with that analogy).
Last but certainly not least, in the midst of getting in on pictures that I'll never see, getting fake tattooed on very sensitive spots, by very attractive people, and by fake tattooing a breast or two, I never once picked up the first round. Nobody expected me to, nobody wanted to make me a liar.
Cheer's Boyz.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
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