Friday, July 30, 2010
Ready, set, hangover...
Just woke up. Wow. I feel like there's a stampede of angry genetically mutated female rhinoceroses masturbating with giant vibrators in my head. Oh well, isn't that what a birthday is about? If I could catalog everything I drank last night, I'd need this entire post. Either way, I took some pictures/videos of the night, and I shall share as soon as I transfer them to my PC from the phone. (I'm on my phone).
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Happy birthday to... who?
In the tradition of lifeless losers across the world, I'm making a blog post on my birthday. As I sit here in my office staring at this white text box, listening to "The Beatles - Strawberry Fields", I reflect upon the terrible year I've had, the troubles and tribulations, losses of both materialistic value and of dear family members. Sometimes I wonder what the point of this cycle of life and death is, and if one even really exists. I have come to an understanding, and even an appreciation of this abysmal existence we humans bear, however when facing what is possibly the most depressing situation I've ever had the liberty of experiencing, it's difficult to come to terms with the emptiness.
Why life sucks:
1: We all die. Eventually.
2: Heaven most likely doesn't exist. However, Hell might.
3: Every year you become older. The girls you are attracted to always stay the same age.
If these three aren't enough, you should wear a thorn crown and go join a nudist colony you hippie piece of shit.
Back to my day:
Working on the celebration of your consummation isn't something I'm alone on, but the deeper meaning behind today and the ultimate reasoning behind why I bottle up my emotions and keep them undisclosed, (which is only masked behind the most artificial smile ever mustered) is the true inspiration for my barricaded mind state and psychological hatred towards every living being. Anyway, I'm going to get destructively drunk and cause some chaos all while laughing at other peoples misfortune. Maybe the government will pay for my oil spills, too.
Why life sucks:
1: We all die. Eventually.
2: Heaven most likely doesn't exist. However, Hell might.
3: Every year you become older. The girls you are attracted to always stay the same age.
If these three aren't enough, you should wear a thorn crown and go join a nudist colony you hippie piece of shit.
Back to my day:
Working on the celebration of your consummation isn't something I'm alone on, but the deeper meaning behind today and the ultimate reasoning behind why I bottle up my emotions and keep them undisclosed, (which is only masked behind the most artificial smile ever mustered) is the true inspiration for my barricaded mind state and psychological hatred towards every living being. Anyway, I'm going to get destructively drunk and cause some chaos all while laughing at other peoples misfortune. Maybe the government will pay for my oil spills, too.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
This is why Americans should stick to burgers...
I love the United States, don't get me wrong with this banter. I love the obese children running through the buffet line, picking at every deep fried delicacy with their chubby little sausage link fingers. I love the homeless people you nearly trip over while jogging, and I love the childless old men that frequent public parks. I love just about everything in the United States, including the almost nonexistent culture. But, sometimes I just want to throw myself off of a 10 story building in hopes that I land on a politician. To avoid political debates (with my luck, every person that reads my blog from this day on will be a democrat) I will sum my entire argument in to one short sentence. Fuck the United States Government.
Forget the jaded health care system which is corrupt beyond repair. And let's toss aside the teen pregnancies, extremely high unemployment rate and blatant disregard of the freedom of speech. I'll even exclude the fact that we have to pay taxes on vehicles we own via registration each year. But, what really bothers me is that every corner in the United States has a Chinese Restaurant, or bistro. Every corner is riddled with fast food joints, nasty gas station hot dog stands and people selling barbecue sandwiches from the trunk of their Ford Pinto. Sometimes I find myself puzzled in this revolving door of decision making. Oh well, I guess I'll just have a burger.
Forget the jaded health care system which is corrupt beyond repair. And let's toss aside the teen pregnancies, extremely high unemployment rate and blatant disregard of the freedom of speech. I'll even exclude the fact that we have to pay taxes on vehicles we own via registration each year. But, what really bothers me is that every corner in the United States has a Chinese Restaurant, or bistro. Every corner is riddled with fast food joints, nasty gas station hot dog stands and people selling barbecue sandwiches from the trunk of their Ford Pinto. Sometimes I find myself puzzled in this revolving door of decision making. Oh well, I guess I'll just have a burger.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Learn to milk a cow...
We can have lunch on the veranda, or perhaps take a cruise to the Islands and sip a martini on the beach. These aren't my pickup lines, but if they were, I'd either get laid a lot or be sitting in a kitchen with Chris Hanson, confused and ashamed. Because the only girls that would fall for these most likely have trouble purchasing a bottle of NyQuil from the pharmacy without a parent present. I wonder if guys realize that a lie is only fool proof if the girl's a fool. It's funny how someone can spend their entire life making minimum wage, driving an aged, partially disassembled vehicle and sleep within the vicinity of their parents home, yet manage to score a gorgeous blond with huge seemingly inflatable tits.
It's complicated:
Lies can be lethal as well as pleasurable. I'm sure you can try to convince every girl you sleep with that the length of your pinkie is 8 inches, but what will you do when it fails? What if amongst the innocent sluts you pick from the litter of drunk, consumer friendly attention whores you find a bright crayon of intuition and know-how? A penny for your thought? How about a dollar for your excuse? Try sleeping through that nightmare.
It's important to remember:
I've always found lies to be the foundation of any good relationship, within a certain set of limitations of course. You can't have your cake, eat it, regurgitate it, and sell it back to the bakery. Can you? I suggest we all be honest for the first 5 minutes of every conversation we ever have with a human being of the opposite sex (animal and fake plant talkers feel free to victimize your pets/inanimate objects with lies of your sexual prowess and career achievements).
It's complicated:
Lies can be lethal as well as pleasurable. I'm sure you can try to convince every girl you sleep with that the length of your pinkie is 8 inches, but what will you do when it fails? What if amongst the innocent sluts you pick from the litter of drunk, consumer friendly attention whores you find a bright crayon of intuition and know-how? A penny for your thought? How about a dollar for your excuse? Try sleeping through that nightmare.
It's important to remember:
I've always found lies to be the foundation of any good relationship, within a certain set of limitations of course. You can't have your cake, eat it, regurgitate it, and sell it back to the bakery. Can you? I suggest we all be honest for the first 5 minutes of every conversation we ever have with a human being of the opposite sex (animal and fake plant talkers feel free to victimize your pets/inanimate objects with lies of your sexual prowess and career achievements).
I'm so hood I could...
I decided that it was a wise idea to travel to the 24 hour McDonald's up the road from the building I currently reside in at 10:30 at night. Boy, was I ever wrong. Here's a play-by-play of my escapade.
10:20 - I'm hungry. I search the area for food. My search is unsuccessful. I stare at my cat and contemplate the process of killing, defurring and skinning him. McDonald's it is.
10:21: I'm out the door and trekking towards my destination.
10:21: I'm stopped by two black dudes. Already?
10:22 - I am now barefoot.
10:35 - I'm about 15 minutes from McDonald's. The walk itself is a total of 10 minutes, though barefoot the grainy sidewalk isn't easy. I stepped on several shards of glass, a lit cigarette bud and what seemed to be a bloody condom.
10:36 - I am attacked by a group of Latinos. I now regret renting the apartment just because of its low price. I wonder why it was so cheap?
Between 10:36 and my arrival at McDonald's, the events were so terrible they cannot be depicted without graphic photos.
10:50 - The lady at McDonald's looks like she just gave birth to leprosy. I'm not impressed by the cleanliness (or lack thereof) of the restaurant. I call her hygiene in to question.
McLady:
S'cuze me madafucka? U tellin me I dirteey?
Me:
All I said was that the boils on your fingers look like they might have leaked on to my fries...
McLady
I'm sorri but U can't be doesin this like dat.. Uz being a racism and I'z doesn't appreciate dis kinna treatments.
Me:
I'm sorry, maybe it's your lack of teeth, but could you repeat that part about you being a nasty cum driven piece of hood trash with a future dependant on a government check and the 7 illegitimate children you may or may not already have, Tayihsna?
It's safe to say the night didn't end so well for me. Conclusion: Don't eat fast food.
10:20 - I'm hungry. I search the area for food. My search is unsuccessful. I stare at my cat and contemplate the process of killing, defurring and skinning him. McDonald's it is.
10:21: I'm out the door and trekking towards my destination.
10:21: I'm stopped by two black dudes. Already?
10:22 - I am now barefoot.
10:35 - I'm about 15 minutes from McDonald's. The walk itself is a total of 10 minutes, though barefoot the grainy sidewalk isn't easy. I stepped on several shards of glass, a lit cigarette bud and what seemed to be a bloody condom.
10:36 - I am attacked by a group of Latinos. I now regret renting the apartment just because of its low price. I wonder why it was so cheap?
Between 10:36 and my arrival at McDonald's, the events were so terrible they cannot be depicted without graphic photos.
10:50 - The lady at McDonald's looks like she just gave birth to leprosy. I'm not impressed by the cleanliness (or lack thereof) of the restaurant. I call her hygiene in to question.
McLady:
S'cuze me madafucka? U tellin me I dirteey?
Me:
All I said was that the boils on your fingers look like they might have leaked on to my fries...
McLady
I'm sorri but U can't be doesin this like dat.. Uz being a racism and I'z doesn't appreciate dis kinna treatments.
Me:
I'm sorry, maybe it's your lack of teeth, but could you repeat that part about you being a nasty cum driven piece of hood trash with a future dependant on a government check and the 7 illegitimate children you may or may not already have, Tayihsna?
It's safe to say the night didn't end so well for me. Conclusion: Don't eat fast food.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Video Game Violence. Ha Ha Ha.
Let me just grab that car you're driving officer, and while we're at it, let me bludgeon you with my brass knuckles and take your weapon. A baton? Damn! I was sure you'd have a gun.
Violence has always been a topic of debate in the United States (most rightfully), but people tend to skip over Gaming as a form of entertainment. It's acceptable, though slightly inappropriate, to watch a woman getting raped for 7 minutes in a film considered to be a classic, but it's wrong to watch your character in GTA get the royal 10 dollar treatment in the front seat of the car he just stole at gunpoint. I've visited an unhealthy amount of hookers in GTA, not because it was entertaining, nor because it was fun, but to prove to myself that it's harmless. I've killed in the hundreds of thousands. I've slaughtered innocent pedestrians for no reason other than my mayhem fueled attention span. I've committed unforgivable crimes, evil, disturbing crimes. Yet, I'm not in a prison cell with a man staring at me like it was our honeymoon. I sit here in my office, a belt full of murderous notches, smiling. I can't speak for the world, hell, sometimes I struggle to speak for myself, but I don't see the harm in violent video games.
ESRB ratings should be enough to alert parents of whether or not a game is appropriate for their child. I see violence in video games no different than in a movie, and as long as your child understands that movies are a work of fiction, why shouldn't he receive the same message from a video game? We give teenagers the credibility of a 4 year old bipolar chimp. If someone brings daddy's gun to school and murders his classmates with no particular motive, other than playing a violent video game prior to the event, the crazy sonamabitch was going to tilt over the edge eventually with or without the help of a game. Parents need to come to terms with the fact that the video game industry is developing, and with advancment comes a whole new array of methods in which to kill a hooker for the sole purpose of getting your hard earned money back.
Give me my 10 dollars you wretched wench, I am unsatisfied with your below average services!
"But sir, we never made bada-bing in yo' car, you didn't take me to an area which was isolated enough".
Violence has always been a topic of debate in the United States (most rightfully), but people tend to skip over Gaming as a form of entertainment. It's acceptable, though slightly inappropriate, to watch a woman getting raped for 7 minutes in a film considered to be a classic, but it's wrong to watch your character in GTA get the royal 10 dollar treatment in the front seat of the car he just stole at gunpoint. I've visited an unhealthy amount of hookers in GTA, not because it was entertaining, nor because it was fun, but to prove to myself that it's harmless. I've killed in the hundreds of thousands. I've slaughtered innocent pedestrians for no reason other than my mayhem fueled attention span. I've committed unforgivable crimes, evil, disturbing crimes. Yet, I'm not in a prison cell with a man staring at me like it was our honeymoon. I sit here in my office, a belt full of murderous notches, smiling. I can't speak for the world, hell, sometimes I struggle to speak for myself, but I don't see the harm in violent video games.
ESRB ratings should be enough to alert parents of whether or not a game is appropriate for their child. I see violence in video games no different than in a movie, and as long as your child understands that movies are a work of fiction, why shouldn't he receive the same message from a video game? We give teenagers the credibility of a 4 year old bipolar chimp. If someone brings daddy's gun to school and murders his classmates with no particular motive, other than playing a violent video game prior to the event, the crazy sonamabitch was going to tilt over the edge eventually with or without the help of a game. Parents need to come to terms with the fact that the video game industry is developing, and with advancment comes a whole new array of methods in which to kill a hooker for the sole purpose of getting your hard earned money back.
Give me my 10 dollars you wretched wench, I am unsatisfied with your below average services!
"But sir, we never made bada-bing in yo' car, you didn't take me to an area which was isolated enough".
Define "Epic".
My gear is purple.
Throughout my online career, I've always been against blogs. My comfort zone would have shattered at the prospect of a blog. I couldn't handle the pressure of updating a source with material nobody really cares about. Yet, here I am. I can't promise it'll be interesting, and I can't promise it'll be a stimulating experience, however, I can promise that I will arrogantly exclaim about my daily conquests (whether mundane and tedious or of epic proportions), and post my close-minded, sometimes illogical opinions. But mostly I'll be posting random nonsense I try to pass off as literature for you monkeys to read, so keep hitting the cymbals and dance to the tune of my awesomeness (which happens to be "Hey Jude" by the Beatles).
Throughout my online career, I've always been against blogs. My comfort zone would have shattered at the prospect of a blog. I couldn't handle the pressure of updating a source with material nobody really cares about. Yet, here I am. I can't promise it'll be interesting, and I can't promise it'll be a stimulating experience, however, I can promise that I will arrogantly exclaim about my daily conquests (whether mundane and tedious or of epic proportions), and post my close-minded, sometimes illogical opinions. But mostly I'll be posting random nonsense I try to pass off as literature for you monkeys to read, so keep hitting the cymbals and dance to the tune of my awesomeness (which happens to be "Hey Jude" by the Beatles).
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