Conversations with myself.

I Don't Know Chuck Bass

2010-02-08T03:36:00.003-05:00

     Greetings, you filthy bastards! I've returned at last. Well, technically I've been back for some time now, but due to physical ailments and an overall funk I'm suffering from, I haven't been able to get myself to sit down and update this mother fucker. But alas, I'm back to blogging (for the most part) and your regularly scheduled blogging shall commence henceforth.

You're delighted, I know.

________________________________

      So what did I spend the last month or so doing in the motherland? Nothing too special, really. The majority of my time was spent laying about with my brother, consuming copious amounts of drugs to pass the time and catch each other up on our lives. Really, there isn't much to do in Bangladesh, at least not when you're used to it. It's the same few places over and over again, which consist primarily of hookah lounges, and I've never been a fan of hookah. I don't see the point of paying for flavored air out of a tube in cramped quarters with a bunch of awkward looking brown kids.

     My New Years on the other hand was quite an eventful night. I don't remember a lot of it, since naturally I was hammered into oblivion, but what I do recall is that at some point my face was mauled while I was dancing (I'd tell you it was a kiss, but there were far too many teeth involved to label it so. It was closer to a beaver attempting to chew my mouth off. Oh god I can still feel them on face AGH). Along with said mauling, for reasons I still cannot comprehend, at some point during the night I managed to convince several of my friends that I had met and knew Chuck Bass. When they asked me about it the next day, I responded as I normally would with "Who the fuck is Chuck Bass?".

Really, I don't know why I told them that. I don't even watch Gossip Girl.

HONESTLY, I DON'T.

      Overall, I'd say it was an excellent time. I did nothing but fuck about with my brother under the influence almost every waking hour, all while being catered to by indentured servants. If that's not vacation, I don't know what is.
      That reminds me actually, my brother might be moving back to the states sometime this year. Maybe even as soon as April, so that's definitely something I'm looking forward to with inexplicable glee. In fact, I may have him start blogging, if only to include him among my blogger family. I've already forced him to read most of my posts, and some of yours. He might even be keeping up with some of you without you knowing it. I have no doubt that you would enjoy him as much as you do me, since our senses of humor are identical. Look forward to it!

________________________________

     I think that will be all for now, since I still need to spend the next several hours catching up on all, if not most, of your posts, because I obviously care so god damned much. It's a brand new year, and believe me I've got quite a few gems planned for your entertainment.

Are your tits tingling? Because mine are.

Oh, how they're tingling.

She Didn't Give Me A Title For This Post

2010-01-15T12:00:00.001-05:00

I've been reading J's blog since I first started blogging, and its quality has never diminished. Her writing has always brought me laughter with little effort, regardless of it being sporadic over the last few months. And the fact that we both have obscene and possibly unhealthy obsessions with all things Potter makes her all the more awesome. I've been trying to get her to move back to NYC to join my new group of sexy blogger friends to no avail, so please feel free to pester her till she agrees.

No really, do it.

When I asked Steef what I should write about he told me to "make that shit long and epic." Epic isn't necessarily my forte. I'm more of a 'This is what happened and here's who is dumb' writer.

Since this guest posting riff raff is new to me, I'll go ahead and just expound on things that have been on my mind. Apologies for my lack of transitions, because I can assure there probably won't be any smooth ones.

First off, don't you hate it when people lie about babies, especially in facebook comments? "Omg, he's sooo cute!!" No he's not. He's blotchy, fat, and altogether reminiscent of a strawberry jelly roll that screams. Just be honest, man.

At work last weekend, in full elf attire, I stood next to the grinch. I watched a four year old with bitsy teeth have a conversation with himself about who was silly: himself or the grinch. "You're sillyyy!!" he pointed, his cheeks scrunching up, bearing his pygmy teeth. Being unable to speak on account of the mask, the grinch just kept pointing at the bitsy boy and the boy kept retorting with "NOOOOOoooo, you're silly! You're pointing at me like I'm silly but I'm not the one with the green face!" I couldn't decide whether this tiny kid was clever or dimwitted. There's a very fine line between clever and dimwitted. Silly used to be such a putdown, didn't it?

I don't quite know what's a putdown to me nowadays. When people call me a bitch, there's nothing I can really do but agree. I guess it can get pretty messy if people assume I'm a Hufflepuff when I'm actually a Gryffindor.

To be completely honest with you, I know this post is schizophrenic as F*CK and that I don't make any sense. Besides the fact that I rarely make sense, it's because I haven't been sleeping very well. Most nights I just lie around in front of the heat dish, staring at my sheets. If I'm sleeping at my boyfriend's, I stare at his Evangelion posters. Scenes pop into my head of things that would never happen. Things like never reaching a gig because my costume breaks, and embarrassing myself by saying something idiotic that I'd never actually say. I think it's because I over-analyze Christmas, hence anxiety monster comes to call.

Christmas this year has sprung upon me like a horny middle schooler, and has given me no time to adjust. One day I drove down the plain old street, and the next day there were fake reindeer made of christmas lights in every front yard and blinding draperies of illumination hanging from all corners of the houses. The suddenness of it, the common procedure, made me feel like I had no control.

Although, I believe I've discovered this whole idea that I'm not a robot. I make choices to either do something or not, and if I don't do it I watch the consequences in ultra-slow motion, moving past as if frozen in picture frames. The consequences are either good or bad, but they're always frozen. They're always gripping the back of my mind like a glacial vice.

Even after all this, I'm unsure as to whether life is going by faster or slower than it ever has. I probably will never know that. Fact is, I'm perplexed. Get me a hot chocolate immediately.

A Letter To My 15 Year Old Self

2010-01-10T12:00:00.001-05:00

OWO is probably my internet other-half. Her style is superb and the subject matter on her blog is considerably relevant to my interests. Reading her posts is always a blast, and this particular post follows a trend I've considered myself, but haven't gotten around to. Remind me when I get back, yeah?

Over the past few months, several bloggers have been writing letters to themselves as teenagers. Most of them are laden with emotion and even though they are impossible to send, full of heartfelt pleas to listen to “someone who knows”. Yeah, mine isn’t like that.

I decided to jump on the bandwagon, but in my own way. Unfortunately I planned on posting this weeks ago, but one of my buddies beat me to it, posting a similar letter to himself on the same day mine was set to go...and it was, of course, brilliant. But now that the dust has settled, I see no reason why I shouldn’t share.

Have at it.

Dear 15 year old me,

Hi. It’s 24 year old you. That’s right; you actually survive your teenage years.

While I’d like to tell you that the future is a place of wonder and excitement, I’m afraid it’s all much the same. Maybe this letter is a bit premature and I should have waited for an age that’s more of a milestone. Like 30...that’s old, right? Or even 50...this would be less ridiculous then because I’d be senile.

But here I am writing anyway, so might as well get on with it. I’m very busy and important.

I’m not going to tell you everything to expect as that would take out much of the fun you’re about to have. Also, after I shove this missive down the rabbit hole, you never know what idiot might get their hands on it. Could be Troy. Do yourself a solid and encourage him to stick his dick in that shop vacuum when he suggests it.

Here are a few helpful tidbits I don’t mind sharing:

Stop worrying about boys. Over the next nine years you will have more conquests than you’ll want to admit to for fear of being branded with a scarlet S. But it’s true: pussy power is a double edged sword.

You won’t be a nerd much longer. Give it another year and Trouble will be your new best friend. Trouble makes you popular. Trouble gets you laid.

Don’t talk about your friends behind their backs. Inevitably someone always finds out and fucks someone’s boyfriend, then someone else sticks maxi pads all over someone else’s car, then there’s a fight and someone gets drug down the hall by their hair, and it all ends in a two week suspension that is so not worth it.

Hit your sister. Knock her the fuck out. You won’t get many more opportunities. The older she gets, the faster she gets and she grows up to have legs like a mule. If memory serves, this is before I decided I was too good to run, so make use of it now.

Your taste in music is shit. Who told you to give up on Pink Floyd and Grateful Dead? PUT DOWN THE BRITTANY SPEARS ALBUM AND WALK AWAY, LITTLE GIRL. You’re embarrassing yourself.

You aren’t that funny yet, but you will be. Obviously. And those diaries you keep? Complete shit. Get rid of them before I decide to share your teenage moaning with the world just for laughs. I’ve been seriously thinking about it.

You’ll eventually stop caring and quit pretending to be a Christian. That guy you’re trying to impress? You’ll be friends for years and in the end, he’ll still be gay. Don’t worry, “Jesus” comes through with a hot one when you’re about 22. Just don’t give him your number. Minister’s wife we ain’t, babe.

I’ll bet as you read this you’re rolling your 15 year old eyeballs around in your head and inhaling on the cigarette you know you aren’t supposed to be smoking. Just remember when you call this letter “gay” and “like, so stupid yo”...you’re only insulting yourself.

Sincerely,

24 year old prettier, funnier, and more sexually experienced You

P.S. – One last thing: If you have anal sex, you will get herpes and die.

Fuck Me Like A Toy Soldier

2010-01-04T12:00:00.003-05:00

I'm sure at this point Hannah probably has nearly ten million followers, so having her do a guest post for me is a pretty big deal. Putting her sudden internet notoriety aside though, Hannah is an immeasurably wonderful person, and I feel quite lucky to be able to count her among my friends. Her elegance and charm know no bounds, and she has come to be someone I admire greatly, as a person and a tremendously talented writer. Meeting her was the cherry on top of my 2009 Sundae.

I pride myself in not being a bitch. Despite thwarting cat calls on a daily basis, I still smile when the deli dude tells me I’m beautiful. I still keep an open mind when I meet new people, despite the fact that I’ve encountered enough assholes and weirdos to write a 69 novel series entitled Assholes and Weirdos I Almost Dated.

But although I’m bitch-free, there are certain things I can’t abide. There are also certain things that make me swoon without fail. So, with that in mind, I hope you enjoy this list of the things that seal or break the deal, time and time again.

Dealbreaker: We’re having wine in “the real world” but you’re talking to “internet me.”

I recently got a Facebook message from someone I graduated high school with. I will not call him a friend since we never actually “spoke” during the four years we sat in classrooms together. He may have asked to cheat off of me once or twice, but it’s hard to differentiate him from the rest of the jocks in my memory. Suffice it to say that if my high school were The Breakfast Club, he’d be Emilio Estevez and I’d be a cross between Ally Sheedy and Anthony Michael Hall.

Anyway, the message was sweet, full of compliments about my writing and intimations that he may have been interested in me way back in the day. He was going to be in New York for the weekend on business and wanted to take me out for dinner. Fine. Good. What did I have to lose?

The dinner started off well. He’s one of those people that only got more athletic after high school, and looked better in a suit than in a jersey. He was more than just the Jock Stereotype, or so I thought when he first started talking about O’Hara and the beat poets.

But despite common ground and intellectual discourse, the conversation was awkward in a way that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. That is, until he mentioned Nina Simone and Modest Mouse in the same sentence, and I realized that instead of speaking to me, he was having an enjoyable date with my Facebook profile. You know, that one that has a Nina Simone quote under “Music” and a stanza from Frank O’Hara’s “Meditations in an Emergency” in place of an “about me.” The one that at one point may have quoted Kerouac and Modest Mouse in the same section.

Excuse me for thinking that natural interactions that aren’t pre-planned sometimes occur, or for the absurd thought that it’s impossible to describe “me” in an “about me” – the reason I quoted one of my favorite poems in lieu of a description.

I suppose if the interaction was natural, however, he would have spoken to me back in high school. Even though I would have most likely covered my face with my hair, Allison Reynolds style.

Dealmaker: You don’t realize your intelligence.

I once casually dated a musician who considered me his “literary friend” and even his “smart friend” and liked to point this out fairly frequently. I was still in college, so I would talk about what I was studying, and he always seemed fascinated from the perspective of someone older, who made a living by playing gigs every night and didn’t “get” poetry.

We had completely different tastes in everything when it came to words– he flip-flopped between non-fiction and science fiction on the rare occasion he was reading, while I’m a whore for concise prose by the likes of Philip Roth and Hemingway. The thing was, the more we spoke, the more his intelligence unraveled. As his “literary friend,” I was no match for his stories about climbing mountains in Africa or his hilarious plans for defense against an alien invasion. And Hemingway and P. Roth? He happened to have have read them, despite the fact that he didn’t get “a proper education.” Swoon.

Dealbreaker: Everything that I say, she said.

Me: “You nauseate me.”
Him: “That’s what she said.”
Me: (Barfs all over him.)

Dealmaker: You’re actually funny. As in, without quoting stupid shit.

Dealbreaker: You’re a toy solider at FAO Shwarz.

My best friend Lady Hem recently met a man at a James Joyce themed bar. He worked in the financial district. They had sex that was “decent” except for the fact that she “kind of fell asleep.”

I can’t say I completely understand this situation from the get-go.

Anyway, James Joyce Man had to get up early the next morning to perform his other job, the one he didn’t originally mention to her. Standing at attention for 8 hours as a department store toy solider. “More of a hobby than a profession, but you know, in this economy…”

NEXT.

(It should be noted that when I used to be a stoner, I would have loved it if I hooked up with a toy solider at FAO Schwarz, for the kitsch factor alone. Must be getting old or something.)

Dealmaker: Your ideal date with me involves whiskey and re-enacting the piano scene from Big at FAO Shwarz.

While we’re at it, we might as well eat heaping bowls of ice cream like Kevin McCallister at the Plaza Hotel. Before or after I fuck your brains out to the tune of “Heart and Soul.”

Dealbreaker: You’re mean to waiters, cab drivers, and everyone “below you.”

I hope you did not just snap your fingers. You totally just snapped your fingers and scoffed. Allow me to stick this stiletto heel into your crouch on behalf of the humans in the service industry, you entitled prick.

Dealmaker: You’re polite. Like, super polite.

Did you just call our waitress “doll?” Oh shit. You actually did.

Well, hopefully you’re not too polite to oblige the amazing blowjob I want to give you in our cabride home. Just sit back and watch the skyscrapers fly out your window. The cabbie won’t mind. It’s free entertainment.

Dealbreaker: You never want to leave New York (or Los Angeles, London, etc).

I mean, why would I want to go to a place with trees when I can see them in Central Park? Or go to India when I can just eat curry in the village? Or Italy when the best pizza in the world is only two blocks away?

I mean, it's completely absurd that the entire population of the world hasn't already relocated to New York City. But it’s good that they don’t, obviously, because then no one here would be a "real New Yorker.”

Vomit.

Dealmaker: You’re a wanderer with 8 million stories.

Where did you grow up again? Sorry, I got lost somewhere between your Oxford anecdotes, the Egyptian pyramids and our upcoming road trip to Seattle. Am I unbuttoning my shirt in public? Sorry, didn’t realize.

Dealbreaker: Your motivational posters.

Yet another from the datebook of Lady Hemingway. A little hard to get off when you’re fucking on a bed beneath a poster that says “COURAGE: A resistance to fear.”

Especially if it’s the same one your gym teacher had back in grade school. The gym teacher that used to breathe just a bit too heavy and look at you strange.

Dealmaker: You’re a pocket Buddha.

Dude, did you just condense my entire life’s knowledge into a sentence? You should totally be on Twitter. Except you’re way too Zen for Twitter. You don’t even own a computer, do you?

Swoon factor at capacity.

So, what are your breakers and makers?

The Nitty Gritty

2009-12-30T12:00:00.002-05:00

This has probably got to be one of the best posts to ever go up on my blog. EQ is an unbelievably amazing woman, and I can't thank her enough for blessing me with this gem of a post. I hope you garner as much as I have from her wisdom on this particular subject.

Just keep in mind; you can't say happiness without a penis.

The great thing about doing guest posts is you get the opportunity to showcase your brilliant writing skills to a whole new audience, perhaps in an attempt to lure some of them over your own blog (you know, pad your numbers). You also have the opportunity to step out of your comfort zone, write about something you wouldn’t necessarily write about on your own blog. However, a negative about writing on someone else’s blog is that you don’t want to alienate or scare off anyone either. There definitely are some limitations one should try to stay within, especially when you’re not given a topic.

The wonderful thing about guest posting for Steve, is that the content of his own writing is pretty sarcastic and crude (see his fiery buttholes post), so if you are a follower of his blog, then you and I shall get along quite nicely!

Ok, I have wasted a good amount of text now introducing my guest post and not really getting down to the nitty gritty.

Basically…I love penis. All colors. All shapes. All sizes.

Well…not all sizes.

I have a problem. I can’t get enough of it. I love that shit like a fat kid love cake. See my problem is that I don’t discriminate. I really should. I should have some sort of standard. But really, if you got a penis and you are semi good looking, then in my eyes you are fair game. No job, high school drop out, on probation, baby daddy, one arm…seriously, fair game.

I have had a good amount of sex in my life and I know what I do and do not like. So here and now I would like to share with you my bits of knowledge on sex, vaginas, penises and all other things that have to do with fucking.

HAVE LOTS OF IT when you are young and free. You don’t want to be old and married never having sewed your wild oats right? Random sex is fantastic. Just be sure to be safe. No spreading of your herpes please!
Guys, learn to love going down on a girl, because just like you, we desire it all the time.
Girls, learn to grin and bear it when going down on a guy. They need it, OK. This will NEVER change.
When appropriate use lube. No one likes friction.
Don’t be in a 3-way, unless you are the guest star. Most of the time, 3-ways are a couples last-ditch attempt at saving the relationship (besides getting knocked up).
DON’T GET KNOCKED UP. Not until you are ready.
Don’t kiss and tell. Keep your business to yourself, because people don’t want to hear it, and unfortunately they will judge you.
Don’t freak out when you find out ones number. It only means, they are THAT much better.
Don’t assume because someone’s number is low that they won’t know what they are doing. Don’t assume...period.
Not all tall guys have big dicks.
Not all Asian girls have tight pussies.
Unless its’ “Fuck me”, “Harder”, “Don’t Stop” or “Just like that”, don’t say anything, just moan and groan.
Keep yourself fresh and tidy, especially when the opportunity to have the sex is available.
When blowing a dude be sure to use your hands as well. And don’t neglect his balls.
Most ladies won’t let you fuck her in the ass. But, given the right atmosphere, sweet talk, alcohol and technique, you may just be able to finagle your way into that chocolate starfish.
Don’t assume you can just thrust away and it’ll be all good. Be sure to flip her around, slow it down, speed it up, take a break and use your fingers, you know…mix it up.
Don’t choke, slap, tie, bound, scratch, or do any other physical act that can be misconstrued as abuse, unless your partner directly asks for it.
Kiss. Kissing is highly overlooked. Work on your technique. Sometimes kiss with urgency. Sometimes, kiss with care.
Guys, don’t say her name during sex. Girls, say his name during sex.
Don’t ever buy your way into a pussy. Unless she is a prostitute you should never pay for sex. Don’t waste your time wining and dining when all she has over you is holding out on sex. It won’t be worth it in the end. Of course if your wining and dining is ultimately leading to a relationship, then by all means, keep spending that money.
Have sex while high. It’s amazing.
Have sex outdoors. It’s incredible.
Have sex in a car. It’s interesting.
Have sex in a public place. It’s naughty.
Sex can get monotonous and tedious, especially after being with the same partner after years. But it always remains the best remedy for stress and headaches.
Guys, getting your partner to the big O shouldn’t always be your main goal, sometimes it just doesn’t happen. It’s probably not your fault.
Girls, masturbate. Everyday. Seriously.

Need more advice or insight? Shoot me an email at misguidedme.eq@gmail.com. But just so you know, I am not a slut or whore for hire. I am in a long-term committed relationship. I don’t have a wildly amazing sex life anymore. The crazy hot sex comes in spurts, but at least it’s consistent which, at this point, is all I could ask for.

Also, I don’t write any of this type of shit on my own blog. Misguided-Me is a very PG13 blog. My family reads it. That said, Steve let me guest post more often!

A Letter From Jesus

2009-12-25T12:00:00.003-05:00

So, as I told you guys previously, I'm totally tight with Jesus. I mean we're like, really good friends. In fact we're hanging out right now. Say Hi Jesus.

Sup. You gonna' pass that?

Anyway, for this holiday season I asked him to do a guest post on my blog. So here's Jesus with a very important letter to all humans of the free world.

Dearest Humans,

Today, I bring you some very sad and perhaps shocking news. Santa is the Devil. To be honest, I didn’t think it would ever come to this. I was pretty sure you all would have figured it out by now. I mean the evidence is pretty overwhelming.

Exhibit A

He hangs out at malls trying to get kids to sit on his lap.

Exhibit B

He’s a peeping tom, watching out for your children’s naughtiness.

Exhibit C

He’s graduated to breaking and entering.

Exhibit D

His toys are created by child slaves. There’s no such thing as elves, dumbass.

Exhibit E

Santa’s all, “Don’t worry about Jesus, just enjoy these presents. I know its His birthday and all, but look at how jolly I am, you should probably skip church and just open all these awesome packages I brought for you.” Total bullshit, humans.

In closing, Santa is a pedophile who wants to keep you from going to Heaven. Merry Christmas.

Love,

Jesus

Union Square Shenanigans

2009-12-21T15:11:00.004-05:00

I don't have to introduce Mersiha, do I? I'm under the impression we share the same core of dedicated readers. Whatever, she's hot and she has yet to show me her tits. So feel free to do me a solid and convince her to do so. Thanks!

This is my first time guest posting. I’m nervous. So much pressure. Steve isn’t here to hold my hand and tell me “it’s okay, just breathe” because he’s on the other side of the world. Smoking pot, probably.

Here goes it.

There’s an intersection in New York City called Union Square. You may have heard of it. If you haven’t, that’s okay too because it’s not all that great. It’s a common place in NYC and I go there frequently to meet up with Steve because he practically lives there. He never mentioned that, did he? Well, he does. So feel free to stalk him there. At the Barnes and Noble, more specifically.

I bring this place up because a lot of weird things happen there. Protests, crazy people, singing people, dancing people, people that pee in public, sex interviews, teen angst, club/music/hair salon promoters, hobos with clever signs, hobos in general, crackheads, alcoholics-- you name it. And those are just the things I’ve witnessed.

I‘m dedicating this guest post to a few of my more memorable Union Square moments. Working my way backwards from most recent to least:

A couple of weeks ago, I went to meet Steve in Union Sq and I was accosted by a few hair salon promoters. I dodged a couple of them but the last one was cute so naturally I stopped to talk to him (hello shallow, fancy meeting you here). After a few minutes, I told him I have to go so he picked me up and hugged me. Then he asked for a "french kiss" to which I responded "uh, no?" He said "it's not what you think it is" and kissed me on both cheeks. As I turned to walk away, he grabbed my arm and said "One more thing, close your eyes" and he leaned forward inching his face towards mine. BYE! I skedaddled.

Sorry, guy, but when our conversation goes like this three minutes after you introduce yourself:

"Do you remember my name?"
-Of course, it’s Adam.
"No."
-Mark?
"No..."

Then I'm obviously not interested enough to suck face with you.

Another time, I was sitting at Union Square waiting for my ex and I was approached by a tall black guy with dreads. This is the conversation that ensued:

"Excuse me, miss, what do you do?"
-What?
"For a living."
-I, uh, go to school.
"Well, you have beautiful fingers."
-Um. *looks down at fingers* Thank you.
"Do you play piano?"
-Haha, no.
"So how do you keep them so beautiful?"
-I... I'm not sure.

I saw my ex come out of the train station and I jumped to my feet. I was honestly afraid that if I had spent more time sitting there, he would have asked to smell (or worse, taste) my fingers.

The best experience I had there, however, was the NYC Silent Rave in April 2008 that I attended with Steve. If you haven't heard of a Silent Rave, it's basically a rave except it's silent. I know! Imagine our surprise when everyone was breaking it down silently. It was amazing. And weird. We loved it. There’s not much I can say about it. Volleyballs were thrown over the crowd and there was a pineapple.

It's All Digital

2009-12-14T22:22:00.002-05:00

    I think New York City is the only city in which you'd be able to witness a homeless man watching Cloverfield on his laptop at Starbucks. Actually, I'm not entirely sure if he is homeless. But, based on his rather unique aroma (Hobo, by Calvin Klein) and his over abundance of personal effects, I'm assuming he is in fact a man sans lodging. Although his laptop and surprisingly pristine sneakers might throw off initial assumptions, if I know this city as well as I think I do, I know that in the right neighborhood you could purchase a laptop, a pair of sneakers, 5 bootleg DVDs, and a box of condoms for $7.

    But my point is not whether or not this man is homeless. My point, is that as I beheld this rather malodorous man desperately attempting to pry open his jumbo bag of Cheeto's, I realized that even if he were homeless, I wouldn't have been surprised.

    When I consider the times we live in, and this city specifically, it honestly doesn't seem farfetched. It's quite hilarious to think about really; homeless men and women around the city, texting each other about who knows what ("dude, cardboard galore where im @, you want in on this?), or even tweeting about what-have-you (Fuckfreight39: built a fort bhind the apt that evicted me, take that, fuckers. Hobocop: $1 pzza on stmarks? how did I not know about this!? @fuckfreight39 2nite we feast!). Call me inconsiderate, but that's some funny shit to think about.

    This isn't entirely off topic, but I had an uncle visiting my father and I recently who'd wanted to give New York City a shot, and see if he could work and live here. So we let him stay with us while he sought work. The only issue was that he'd spent his entire life in Bangladesh, and it was his first time here. Being the cynic that I am, I'd assumed off the bat that he'd never manage. He wasn't entirely clueless (he knew how to work the computer and internet, but I had to teach him how to work the microwave. What?) but I just knew the big city lifestyle wouldn't work for him. And I was right in the end of course. He told my father that it was too much for him, this city. He couldn't imagine living here at all. So, he decided to stay in Long Island with my aunt.

    This comes back to my overall point about our lifestyles. Not just here, but in any modern city. We've come to a point where half of what we do at any given moment is digital. When you buy something, call/text someone, or get on a train, information is exchanged and it's all digital. Hell, most public restrooms have toilets with sensors to detect when you're off the toilet so it can flush for you. I'm gonna' go ahead and count that as well.

    And that's not to mention the infinite abyss that is the internet, or our near desperate addiction to social networking sites. I imagine sometime in the near future we'll all have cards so that, should the occasion occur when we meet someone in person (preposterous!), we can exchange all of our e-information all at once.

"It's a pleasure to meet you! Here's my phone number, email, Facebook, Twitter, Blogger, Myspace etc! Send me a call, text, email, friend request, tweet, direct message or wall post sometime!"

It might sound silly, but you just wait, it'll happen. They'll call it the iCard, and you won't be cool without one.

"You think I should give him my iCard? "
"Oh my god! Let's exchange iCards!"
"Holla' at a nigga with an iCard, ma"

Hell I wouldn't be surprised if it ended up mandatory.

"License, registration and iCard, please."

    I don't want to seem like I'm complaining. No, I wouldn't be so bold as to complain on a blog about overusing social networking or the internet. And I don't mean to sound paranoid either, I'm just bringing these musings I think we all share to light. I take part in all of the things I've mentioned, and I appreciate them, to a point. In the end, I'll still say it's a double edged sword, and it all has the potential to go horribly, horribly wrong (R.I.P. Y2K).

    Or maybe I just really want to be able to say "I told you so!".

_______________________________

    This will be my last post before I leave, so consider this my season finale. I've got a 15 hour flight, a day in Abu-Dhabi, and then an 8 hour flight to look forward to after Sunday night. Awesome. Anyway, starting next week you'll be getting your hilarity fix from some of my favorite bloggers. I've read some of the posts they've got lined up, and believe me when I say you won't miss me. I'll be back on January 20th, and I'm sure I'll have a number of stories to tell, so be prepared for an epic return post.

Till then,
Steve Goddamn Brown

A Very Blogger Birthday

2009-12-07T17:07:00.021-05:00

Alright, settle down and have a seat children, 'cause Grandpa Steve's got a story to tell.

This entire blog started from a single and completely abrupt thought I had just slightly over a year ago. I'd had the idea to create something, anything, and title it "Conversations With Myself, Because Everyone Else Is Masturbating". Yes, that whole thing, that was the entirety of the thought. Bizarre, and nonsensical, I know. But there you have it, that's how I think. A lot of the time, when it comes to my writing or art, I'll think up the title or name before anything else, and then expand from there on. Everything I've written and shown you on this blog over the last year has stemmed from that one aimless and possibly drug-addled thought.

I don't know why I ended up deciding on a blog. I think I'd just been trying to write more, and at some point been mulling over the idea of sharing on the internet again. Up till then you see, I had only ever written on Xanga (I was 14, blow me) and Livejournal* (like all of you didn't either?). And even then, it had only ever been vague and inane babble about angst-y shit I felt at the time. So I thought I would create a blog, and share my apparently hilarious commentary and anecdotes on gang-bangs, drunk driving, my talents, fat bastards with laptops, my balls, and buttholes.

Initially, I'd only thought to build a small core of readers to share my nonsense with, because I honestly didn't think there would be many that cared. But as you can see, I've come a long way from that. I don't even know how, really. But it feels pretty great knowing there are so many of you that enjoy what I post (however sparingly it may be as of late). I haven't broken 100 yet, but the number 96 is very pleasing nonetheless (even numbers woo!).

And then there are of course, those special few that I've come to be great friends with. My blogger friends are definitely set apart from any other internet friends, because there's a very different sort of bond that forms when you read about each other's lives and everyday antics. You don't even have to speak to each other regularly. You just read and read and read and somehow you eventually feel you know them well, at least to some degree. I've even got friends in person who read my blog to catch up on what I've been getting up to. It actually throws me off, because I'll go to talk about something and they'll cut me off and mention that they'd already read about it on my blog (well, there goes the rest of this conversation then asshole). Still, it's interesting to know that they read.

So here we are then, a year after my fortuitously inane thought, plump with the vulgar and inappropriate jabber I've had you put up with. What a long, strange trip its been, no? Well, no not really. I just wanted to use that line (sup' high school yearbook?). Have you enjoyed your stay so far? Anything you'd have done differently? Regrets? Complaints? Lawsuits? Please, speak up, I'd love to hear about it. Mostly.

In any case, I bring this all up now because I had the distinct and supremely fortunate pleasure of celebrating my 22nd birthday this weekend with some of my favorite bloggers. It was actually EQ's idea to have a blogger meet-up, and I'd suggested on the 20SB forum that it be on my birthday, and It turned out to be without a doubt the best birthday I've had to date.

I met up with Mersiha* Friday afternoon, and we meandered about Hunter College, killing time till we had to meet EQ and Hannah for dinner at Corner Shop Cafe. We hung around at the radio station as our friend and host, being inattentive and distracted, did everything but keep us company. So eventually we decided we'd just head towards the area and wait till it was time. We sat around at Starbucks and discussed idly what we thought our guests for the night would be like in person. Were they as good looking as we hoped? Would it be awkward? What if they were actually lame in person?! An inevitable train of thought, when it comes to meeting people you only know from the internet. But in all honesty, a part of me was already sure there would be no tension or awkwardness. As I said, I felt I already knew these people well enough, so I had no doubt about how we would get along in person.

It was Hannah we met first, as she'd texted me that she was in the area. EQ wasn't around yet, so we told her to meet us at Starbucks and wait till it was time. As I'd suspected, there was absolutely no awkwardness. Apart from the fact that she was even more gorgeous than I'd expected, Hannah was of course quite affable in person. It honestly felt as if I'd already known her for years. So we chit-chatted a bit, exchanging scraps about our day so far, and our expectations for the night to come and what-have-you. Mersiha and I really did our best to seem as welcoming as possible, so hopefully we came off as friendly city folk (this might be an oxymoron) and not the internet stalkers we actually are. Before long, EQ sent me a text telling me she was waiting in front of the cafe, so we walked over and met her outside. Setting aside my immediate love of any and all adorable Asian women (and believe me, she's too cute), EQ was everything I'd imagined; that is to say, awesome. She even got Mersiha and I gifts! Seriously, she's too wonderful to describe properly in text.

Dinner itself was quite an enjoyable affair. The food was delectable (thanks again for choosing such a great place EQ) and my company could not have been more perfect. Looking at us then, I don't think you'd have been able to tell that these were people meeting each other for the first time. The chemistry was instantaneous, and as I said before, it already felt as if we already knew each other so well. It was clear we were meant to get along famously. So, we ate, drank, and of course swapped blogger bits about our lives on and off the internet. There was no shortage of interesting stories to tell, so there were no awkward silences. It was quite fantastic.

With the night still young, we finished our dinners (I had steak, and then cheese cake. It was delicious, I know you care) and decided to walk on over to Fat Cat's, where we were to meet any other 20SB folks that responded for our meet-up. Fat Cat's wasn't at all what I had expected, especially not from that hole-in-the-wall entrance. But once inside I discovered it was actually quite spacious, and very busy. We were a little worried at first, because one of our expected guests, Kat from Pink India Ink, had apparently been to a blogger meet-up previously, and been unable to find anyone at all and ended up spending the night drinking with a number of firemen. Which I don't think could have been all that bad, really. I mean, I can't think of any girls that would be opposed to that scenario. I thought chicks dug firemen? Maybe they were like, creepy burly firemen? I'm imagining Russians, with hairy arms and thick mustaches. I'm not sure why, that's all that came to mind.

But I digress!

We got a few drinks and sat around for a bit, and watched the band that was playing. I'm sure we'd have appreciated it more, if we hadn't been four feet from them. Once our eardrums had had enough, we decided to station ourselves closer to the entrance, and luckily enough not much later Kat showed up. Hannah had made sure to tell her to look out for her hair, which I'm sure you'll agree is... noticeable (in a good way Hannah, I loves it), so she had no trouble finding us. I hadn't actually read too much of her blog at this point, so I wasn't entirely sure what to expect. But Jesus, was I blown away. Her being as hot as she is, was a gift all its own. Happy Birthday to me indeed!

With our blogger pack complete (as far as we were concerned, anyway) we drank the night away, getting to know each other past what our blogs revealed. We also played Ping Pong, which to no surprise I'm fucking terrible at. Fuck Ping Pong. But still, good times were had by all. More happened during the night, but honestly it just occurred to me that this post is now ridiculously long, and I'm fairly sure most of you will skim through it. Hell I don't think you'll even get this far. Show of hands, how many of you read straight through to here? See? None of you! You illiterate bastards.

In any case, I want to give a big thanks to Mersiha, EQ, Hannah, and Kat for giving me the best birthday I've had to date. The only one to top this I think was my 6th or 7th, and that's only because I wore a shiny emerald green suit with matching top hat. Damn it I should have worn a top hat! Next time I guess.

_______________________________

*Don't ask me for my livejournal, because you'll never get it out of me. NEVAR.
*The only reason Mersiha blogs at all, is because I literally forced her into it. I created her entire blog, and made her post. You're welcome.

I Know Jesus

2009-11-26T00:14:00.003-05:00

Firstly, I've got a guest post up at Misguided Me, and if you remember correctly, eQ is my sexiest follower, so definitely go and check that out.

Secondly, more of you need to go and follow the second blog I'm working on with this bastard Scott. I know it's not all mine, but I'm sure you'll enjoy his nonsense as much as you do mine.

You'll still love me the most though, right?
RIGHT?
________________________________

I've had a surprisingly busy... last week? It just occurred to me this week hasn't been busy at all, it was last week that I had things to do. Fun things, actually.

Last week, on a whim, I decided to try my hand at acting. According to my friends, for whatever reason I apparently seem like the kind of guy who could pull that sort of thing off (I'm just being modest. Honestly, I'm good at everything. Except sports. Shut up.), so I decided to show up to a casting call my friend Ama posted for a project she was working on for class. And since I'm so awesome and talented, I got the part (not because there were only two others that showed up).

Acting, actually, is not nearly what you might think it is. Or maybe you know exactly what it is, I don't know. I'm just saying there's more to it than you might think. A lot of it I've discovered is based on instincts which you may already have or have to spend a lot of time developing. Having to say the same lines, with the same motivation, without fucking up, over and over while keeping the same level of performance, is surprisingly tedious. The smallest little things can completely ruin a take, and maintaining composure at times gets quite difficult. But all in all, I'd have to say it's something I could see myself doing on a regular basis, and that's not just because I've had my ego stroked about my natural talent at it all weekend, this genuinely seems like something I could put some passion into.

Expect me on the big screen sometime soon.

In any case, Ama's an excellent director/actress herself, and just genuinely a wonderful person, so it was a blast working with her. When it's all finished and edited and up on the interwebs, I will of course share it with you so you can marvel at my remarkable talent and striking visage.
________________________________

So this time at least, I have a feasible excuse for not having blogged. As opposed to the rest of the time when I'm honestly just being lazy and moody. Really, my life has been boring for the most part (except last week).

Hell, I don't even have any plans for tomorrow. None, whatsoever. Feel free to invite me over for dinner. Seriously, do it. I'll bring booze. Come on. Please?

I'M LONELY AND HUNGRY.
________________________________

One last thing, I don't remember if I've mentioned this yet or not, but I'm going to be leaving the country for a month to visit my family in Bangladesh (honestly I'm only going to visit my new baby sister, so I can't wait). While I'm gone, I've asked a number of fabulous bloggers to take part in some guest posting while I'm away being fed sandwiches and cool-aid by indentured servants in the third world.

Fun fact? Jesus himself will be making a post while I'm gone. Yeah, that's right. I bet you guys didn't know I knew Jesus.

I roll deep.
________________________________

Mersiha: I saw A----- again. Think she's stalking me.
Me: Distract her with a penis. It'll work, trust me.
Mersiha: ROFL *yells penis and runs away*
Me: Penis distraction to whores is what ninja smoke bombs are to samurai. True story.
Mersiha: HAHAHA

TMI Thursday: On The Matter Of Fiery Buttholes

2009-11-12T15:42:00.006-05:00

I don't usually do this, but I figure it's about time I jump on the wagon, since LiLu is without question one of my favorite bloggers. This will be my first TMI Thursday* post, and I hope it's enough to make you cringe, or at least feel mildly disgusted or uncomfortable.

As you sit there and read this, let me ask you a question; how does your butthole feel? Is it alright? Is it sore after that monstrous dump you took earlier this morning? I'm directing this at the men, of course, because girls don't poop. It's a fact, okay? Don't question it, I don't want to hear about it. GIRLS DON'T POOP.

But right, it's okay isn't it? You weren't up all night being sodomized were you? (and if you were, why wasn't I invited? Jerk). In all seriousness, I want you to take a moment and appreciate how it feels to have a nice and completely unhurt butthole. I don't think many of you really appreciate this feeling, because how often is it that your butthole is damaged? Not often, I hope. Unless of course you make it a habit of sticking things up there. Whatever man, I don't judge. What you do with your time is your business, you freak.

Now, as I'm sure you've guessed, I was unfortunate enough to at one point have experienced the horridness of a damaged and aching butthole. No, not because of buttsex, although honestly I'd have preferred post-sodomy soreness to this. Not that I uh, know anything about that. But really, it couldn't have been as bad as this.

I don't actually know why this happened, or what it was that spurred such a violent and painful dump. I can't recall what it was I consumed that could have possibly came back out in such a manner. Because shards of glass and rocks are not a part of my every-day diet, friends. That's right. Can you imagine that? Imagine having to poop out clumps of rock jutted with shards of fucking glass, okay? Are you imagining it? How the fuck does it feel?

And I don't just mean this happened once, no no. This happened continuously for a week. At one point I was so terrified of having to drop my kids off at the pool, I actually stopped eating all together. How the fuck could I? It was like dry humping a shark, that was on fire. And that was just during, the rest of the time it was constant and intolerable butthole burning. I couldn't walk, sit, or even masturbate it was so painful. The only thing I found that helped, was to lay face down on my bed, and hold cubes of ice against it.

Well what the fuck else was I supposed to do!? My doctor is my uncle, and you can be damn sure this is not the kind of thing I would go to him with, even if I could get up and make it there. Whatever man, it was the only thing that helped. So for a week I basically just laid in bed and iced my poor, poor butthole. I really never thought I would recover, it was traumatizing.

Thankfully, I did eventually recover, and I've overcome my fear of pooping; which is great because as any man can tell you, there's really nothing quite like taking a nice big dump. Most of my greatest ideas and epiphanies have occurred whilst I dropped some deuces. The bathroom really is a man's sanctuary.

I've also made it a point to seriously watch my diet, and be wary of what I consume, because I don't think I could live with having to go through that ever again. God, no! Never again!

So take heed, faithful readers. Watch what you eat, and make sure to appreciate just how great it is to have a butthole that does not sting or ache or burn. Because you never know when that could change.

It could happen to you!
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*Good call Jacob, you're completely right actually, haha.

Strangers With Whiskey

2009-11-06T23:38:00.008-05:00

I have a strange fondness for drinks with peculiar or strong tastes. Starbucks’ normal coffee, for instance. The taste of it is somewhere along the lines of dirt and copper, which I’m sure is why most people don’t drink it. At least as far as I’ve seen, anyway. Especially not when they have a bevy of other saccharine substitutes. For the sake of potency, when I do have my coffee, I like to load it up with anything between 8 to 20 packets of raw sugar, which they so graciously provide (diabetes, here I come).

Earlier today, a woman standing beside me marveled at the sight: a balding youth, strategically unwrapping and pouring three packs of raw sugar at a time. She even went so far as to pause while sprinkling nutmeg over her thirty-seven dollar frothy monstrosity, and say to me “That’s very unhealthy, you know.” Shrugging, I replied, “Neither is cocaine, but I haven’t got any of that, so this will just have to do.” She walked off with a grimace. Perhaps it was the bald spot?

I should probably explain the bald spot.

In keeping with our time honored tradition of playing dress up across the nation (the world, even), for Halloween this year I decided to dress up as my favorite writer and journalist, Hunter S. Thompson. It was surprisingly easy to put together. I wandered about downtown for an hour or so and managed to get everything I needed: gold aviators, cigarette holders, a red patterned half-sleeve shirt, and a green poker visor. I had a pair of khakis and a jacket I thought would go well with the rest of it at home already. The finishing touch for the costume though, was the bald spot. When I woke up Saturday afternoon, I spent about an hour and a half shaving a bald spot into my hair. If I may say so myself, it was an impressive sight to behold, considering I shaved it myself. You’d be surprised at how hard it was, me not being able to see the back of my head and all. (I don't have any decent pictures from the night yet, I'll post them when I get them, so this is all I have for the time. That's Lauren stroking the sand-papery mess that was my hair a few days later)

This was actually my first time doing anything at all for Halloween in something like six years. I figured it would be this, or stay at home and offer any children who knocked at my door whiskey instead of candy. I know it doesn’t taste like candy, kids. But give it a minute and you’ll feel it. Here, take these eggs while you’re at it. And if any man should utter the world trick, you shove them down his throat. Tell him the Sugar God sent you, and that you were on a mission to wreak havoc and pillage sweets in the guise of an itty-bitty ballerina. He’s sure to surrender his supply then! Shit, why not?

Against what I thought to be my own steadfast judgment, I ended up going to that god-awful parade in the city, and Jesus, what a mess it was. I’m not one for mass quantities of people in any situation, let alone a slow moving mass dressed as hookers and movie stars in the fucking rain of all things. Naturally, I didn’t stay long. I meandered about with a friend, just long enough to get a handful of compliments on my gloriously put together costume. Most just seemed to recognize me as “Johnny Depp from that movie” but it lifted my spirits nonetheless. I even met someone with a similar costume. He didn’t actually recognize who I was supposed to be, until I took off my visor and revealed my now mostly bald head. He squealed with glee and we promptly high-fived. Then he waved his fly swatter at us menacingly, admirably staying in character, and we were back on our way through the crowd.

After the parade, I met a few other friends and headed to a party somewhere around the outskirts of Brooklyn. It may not have been, but it certainly felt like it considering how long it took to get there. Wasn’t too bad a shindig, all good people doing your usual things. I recall at some point a man came up to me and yelled “TELL ME ABOUT THE FUCKING GOLF SHOES!” which I got a good laugh out of (if you don’t get this, do yourself a favor and check out the movie Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas). Much to my displeasure, apparently I had just missed a girl who had went to the same party dressed also as our beloved Hunter S. Jesus, I’d surely have loved to meet her. Ah, what could have been? I’ll secretly ponder this for years, probably.

Which reminds me! A friend of mine has just started a new blog and has been pestering me incessantly to sponsor him, or something to that effect. Apparently I’m popular, so what I suggest, you’re liable to follow? I’ve decided to lend him my expertise in this venture. The blog is: Maybe I’m Doing It Wrong? and it’s dedicated entirely to man’s ever long chase after the elusive muff monster, or uh… just our efforts, specifically. Considering my own failure for years in this department, it’s only natural I’d join him for this. I certainly have a plethora of stories to tell on the matter.

Failure to fornicate is my forte, folks.
________________________________

One last thing, I'm doing a guest post for OWO this week, so head on over on Sunday and check it out. I doubt you'll remember, but hopefully some of you do. Maybe I'll post on Sunday to remind you. Considering my lack of consistency as of late, it's uh... Yeah.

Don't Do Drugs, Kids

2009-10-19T20:34:00.006-04:00

Apparently, after I had made that gem about gang bangs, I had planned and written out most of a second post, but fucking forgotten about it because I'm goddamn useless. My hilarity lasers aren't charged at the moment so I'll just go ahead and throw this out there in the hopes that it will sate your thirst for my blogging blood.
______________________________

I gave myself three options for my next post; I could either continue being a filthy bastard and talk about pornography, talk about how unbelievably miserable I am, or take a step back and talk about music. Well, for your sakes, I decided I'd take a step back and delve into my musical history. I wouldn't want you to lose the little respect you have for me by posting a stream of disgusting posts now, would I? And I certainly wouldn't want to bring you down with my depressing bullshit.

It wasn't until the 8th grade that I'd gotten involved in the world of popular music*. In the 7th grade I'd listened a lot of compositions from RPG soundtracks after becoming friends with Mike, but that was it. In the 8th grade I was introduced to the Rock genre, specifically Punk Rock, and I found it it to be quite fitting for my rebellious phase. A friend of mine at the time had been the first to really expose me to it. It wasn't until I'd met him that I'd learned how to be "cool" with people, and not come off as so much of a loser/loner. Fun fact: I found out recently that he died of a heroin overdose sometime after high school, and apparently the guy that I smoked up with for the first time sold him the heroin that killed him (WHAT TANGLED WEBS WE WEAVE, EH?)

Right, so... music. Once I got into high school I made a group of friends that were into the "Punk Scene", as it were. I particularly remember a friend I made during freshman year named Noah. We called him Pinky because he would wear pink t-shirts often, and eventually one day he came to school with half his hair dyed pink (this was long before that faggot in Good Charlotte did it). Along with a few other rapscallions we rounded up, we decided we wanted to start a band*, and they designated me as the bassist. "Okay, we need a bassist. Steve, buy a bass and learn to play" were their words, I believe. I'd actually wanted to play the guitar, but I was young and impressionable and I didn't want them to stop being my friends, so I obliged.

So I bought a bass (a Fender P-Bass, which I regret because I still wish I had gone with the Jazz bass. God damn it what a horrible mistake), and slowly taught myself to play, because I sure as hell wasn't going to have someone else to teach me. Fuck that, I'm no communist. Through my misguided lessons I eventually got good enough to be able to play along with songs from my favorite bands at the time, Blink 182 and Greenday. I was quite obsessed with Mike Durnt and Mark Hoppus, as all I listened to was their bass playing.

After practicing enough, I played live shows during my Freshman, Sophomore, and Senior years. During Junior year my grades were terrible so I wasn't allowed, but I still played a Tsunami relief show at Pace University (I found the certificate they awarded me recently. That's what spurred this post. I think I'll frame it in front of my desk to make myself feel like less of a failure).

Freshman year we played Greenday - Basket Case, Sophomore year we played Blink 182 - All the Small Things, and Senior year I played The Beatles - And I love her (I even sang and played the second verse. This was one of the ballsiest things I'd ever done, considering how horrible my singing voice is). I even dedicated it to my girlfriend at the time, who was in the crowd watching. Yeah, I'm a fucking sweetheart.

I couldn't accurately explain to you what it felt like to perform in front of hundreds of people, it's difficult to describe unless you've performed live yourself (and not gotten booed off for being terrible. Seriously, get some lessons you scrub). It was sort of like being sucked off while eating cheesecake filled with heroin* in a jacuzzi, as hundreds of people cheered you on and basked in your almighty glory, only better, you know? Look, suffice it to say that I felt like a mother fucking Rock Star. They loved me, and I loved them. There are few things in the world that could have boosted my ego as much as performing live did.

I've seen Richie perform a few open mic nights this year, and its really made me miss performing. Hell, I've barely picked my bass up much at all in the last few years, but I have been trying to get back into it recently and started working on a few of my own songs. It's absurd that I haven't already, considering the vast majority of my friends are musicians. I wonder how that even happened? It certainly had nothing to do with all the drug-usage we have in common.

Nah', couldn't be.

*This is actually a lie. My first dip into popular music was in the 6th grade when I became obsessed with Wu-Tang Clan after watching the music video for TRIUMPH. Wu-Tang Clan ain't nuttin' to fuck with!

*We decided our band name would be Garbage Juice, after a stunt I pulled with my skateboard that landed me in a pile of trash. Oh what clever lads we were.

*It's a well-known fact that heroin is delicious. Ask your parents.
______________________________

Aaren: STFU AND BASK IN MY GLORY!
Me: bask in MY glory, more like
Aaren: Uhm, already did.
Aaren: YOU PEED ON ME :/
Me: couldn't resist.
Aaren: Smelled like hard liquor and failure.
Aaren: AHAHAHA
Me: OUCH.
Me: sick burn.
Aaren: ;)
_____________________________

Jaye: this girl looks like a mannequin
Me: holy shit it's a robot
Me: i would have sex with that robot

This Post Is Ridiculously Long, Shut Up And Read It

2009-10-06T04:23:00.002-04:00

My mother has been telling me since I was 13 that she would have me married by 22. I turn 22 this December, so I guess she still has time. Better get to it, mom.

As far as I’ve read and heard, it seems what most Americans know of our arranged marriages are misconceptions, and anyone I ever speak to about it is usually against it. I’ll admit when I was younger, I opposed it quite adamantly myself. Whenever my mother blithered on about finding me a nice Bengali wife, I’d get mad and we would end up arguing for hours.

While growing up, I watched a number of my cousins get arranged and married, and it always puzzled me why they went through with it. I always thought that since they weren’t traditional Bengali folk, they would feel as I did, and marry outside of our culture and race. They were as “Americanized” as I was, and yet when the time came, they did what most their age end up doing back home -- that is, have their parents find them a suitor. Every time it happened, I always told myself I could never, and would never do that. But there’s a lot I’ve come to terms with since then.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying I’ve changed my mind and that my mother was right, god no. It’s people like my mother that make arranged marriages look bad. It’s that old fashioned mentality; don’t stray from the herd, stick to your people and your country/faith, so on and so forth. Complete nonsense. I knew then that without diversity we’d never evolve, so I always assumed anything she said on the matter was codswallop.

I’d rather not make any cliché statements like “I’ve had my share of relationships” or anything else of that ilk. I’m no expert on the matter and I don’t think anyone else is either, regardless of what they might claim to know of the human psyche and male to female interaction. We are all different, and how we deal with one another varies accordingly. Whatever you might think, no two relationships have ever been the same.

In the end, we’re all stuck playing this game. “The Dating Game”, “The Love Game”, “The Let’s-Make-Babies-And-Try-Not-To-Kill-Each-Other Game.” Call it what you will, we’re all players regardless. I refer to it is as a game only because it seems fitting; there are winners, losers, and an abundance of rules to be followed. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, but you keep on playing for the sake of filling that oh-so-imperative genetic prerogative: procreation. Babies! In the end, it’s all about making babies. The dating game and everything alongside it is just an absurdly complex means to an end; that end of course being children to carry on our names (along with all of our genetic imperfections, and financial debt).

The only reason I’m even considering an arranged marriage is because like so many others, I have played the game time and time again, and lost repeatedly. It’s not an option that’s open to many, but I’m lucky enough to have it as a Plan B. In America, if you can’t find anyone for yourself, more often than not you’re pretty much fucked. But since it’s such a pivotal part of my culture, and since my mother is desperate for grandchildren, it’s something I have to fall back on. I can’t say I’m not hesitant, though. If I do agree to be arranged, it would of course be with a girl of Bengali descent, and that worries me.

Up to this point I’ve only ever been involved with two Bengali girls, both of which ended disastrously and for similar reasons. The first ended because her father found out about us, and threatened me with physical and reputational harm. The second was… well, it was considerably more complicated. Her name was Becky, and for three months I fought a one-man-war against her entire family and an ex-boyfriend who refused to go the fuck away. This all happened summer before last while I was in Bangladesh. Looking back on it now, I’m not sure why I even bothered. She was a spoiled cunt and she drove me fucking nuts most of the time. I think I threatened to kill her once or twice (surprise! I have temper issues). But I can’t deny it wasn’t exciting, she sure as shit kept me on my toes. But all around it was a traumatizing fiasco and long story short; after she’d lied enough times I decided I’d had enough of her bullshit.

I’ve refrained from mentioning much about my relationship history up to this point in my blog because I just don’t like talking about it. I’m not one to complain when it comes to private affairs, especially not on the internet. Also because I’m not in high school anymore, and this isn’t LiveJournal.

Ironically enough, that same summer I’d gotten into a rather heated debate with my parents about love and marriage. My mother knew that I was with Becky at the time, but she hated her. Something about her face being too big -- Oh, I should mention, my mother is extremely shallow and unbelievably vain. She had been telling me that she knew of someone else the thought was better for me, and I retorted telling her that in the end, the decision of whom I married would be up to me regardless of anything she or my father had to say about it. This, of course, riled her up something fierce. She went on to tell me that whatever she had to say about whomever I chose should be imperative, as she is my mother and she apparently knows what is best for me. Taking her argument down was no issue; all I had to do was ask her to tell me the story of how her and my father got together.

My parents had been arranged by their respective families, and after some time my mother fell in love with my father (and who can blame her, my dad is a fucking pimp, more on this later). But before any dates had been set, one of her brothers had decided he opposed the arrangement and convinced the rest of the family that it was a bad idea. Once enough of them had agreed upon it, they told my mother the arrangement was off, and what did she do? My dear mother, the woman who harangues me constantly about how she should be the one to choose the right girl for me, and incessantly persists that love and emotions play little part in marriage, decided that the only option left was to run away and get married before their families could do anything about it. And that’s exactly what they did.

After she reiterated the story to me, I told her “So, in the end, you loved Dad so much, you wouldn’t let what anyone said come between you two.” “Right…” was all she could respond with. My father hadn’t said much during the argument, but he’d obligatorily taken my mother’s side when it was necessary. I’ve never really been able to tell what my father’s stance on this issue is, so I asked him “Dad, do you believe that love is the strongest force in the world?”

“Yes, I do.”
“Then, if I should fall in love, and after having been through all that with Mom, could you really ask me, or tell me to stop loving someone?”

Neither of them said anything for the rest of the night.

I’ve been a romantic for as long as I can remember. I still am, for the most part. I’ve always wished I could meet the right girl, at the right time in the right place and I’ve daydreamed about it more often then I’d care to admit. But the bigger part of me is always a realist, and I think I’ve given up on that fantasy ever becoming reality. I think most of you will agree with me when I say this, but that kind of shit only happens in the movies. In reality, healthy relationships are few and far between.

How often have you been told, “You’re just not meeting the right people”? I’ve heard this ridiculous phrase over and fucking over, and after hearing it enough times I’ve started to wonder; who exactly are “the right people”? And where exactly do you find them? Is there an Island somewhere where all of the men and women who meet the absurd qualifications we dream up for our companions are congregating? Are they hiding in plain sight? Have we already met them, and not realized it? Is the Asian lady who sews the buttons back on to this piece of shit jacket I wear, my dream woman?

There are no right people. There are just people. People that work, and people that don’t work. And even when they don’t work, you still manage to associate with them more often than not. How many “friends” do you have that you actually despise? You know, those friends that occasionally leave comments on your Facebook wall asking how you are, and you respond in kind with the expected niceties, but in your head you’re going over everything you can’t stand about them? I’m sure you’ve got a few. I’ve got tons.

Even in relationships, people somehow manage to be with and even marry others they can’t stand. We do our best to rationalize what we think is right, even when it clearly isn’t. Why be alone and content, when you can be with someone and miserable? Anything is better than being alone, after all.

And then there are those that rationalize avoiding relationships. Why tie yourself down? You’re young! Enjoy your life! Fuck as many girls as you humanly can. Fuck and fuck and fuck and move from girl to girl to girl until your libido shrivels into inexistence. Then you can get married and have kids. Who came up with this? Since when is it a rule that you should be as promiscuous as possible during your youth, so you can settle down later in life? Says who? If by some chance you’ve managed to find a girl or guy that really works for you, and you want to make it work, hold on tight motherfucker. And if a friend at some point should ever suggest that it would be a brighter idea to let go, and spend more time making a few more mistakes for the sake of a few rim jobs, you punch them right in the cunt and tell them you’re quite alright with what you’ve got. You’ll be better off in the end, trust me. Or don't, I don't care. Do what you want.

In the end, no matter which path you take, this quest for companionship is still an endless guessing game. Trial and error, over and over. She didn’t work, but maybe she will? Nope, she didn’t work either. But wait! She seems nice! Maybe she’ll work? Nope, she didn’t work either. Guess I’ll attempt suicide! But what’s this? Another girl? She seems to care! At last, can it be? Is she the one? Oh, please let it be so!

Nope. Not her, and not the girl after her, nor the girl after that. But who knows, maybe after you’ve tried enough times and been through enough nonsense and just when you’re about ready to give up, the right girl will come along when you least expect it. Or she won’t, and you’ll end up alone and miserable and die choking on a sandwich you were looking forward to all day while watching The Real World. Who knows?

But alas, I digress. Let me get back to my point here. Let’s say you didn’t have to keep trying over and over. Let’s say, that when you were at the right age, you were offered the opportunity to forego the drama and nonsense of years of dating and failed relationships, and find yourself a wife/husband. Not a girlfriend/boyfriend, and then maybe a wife/husband, and then perhaps a mother/father, but a surefire life companion to build a family and grow old with, right off the bat. Would you take it?

Some of you might, if you’ve had enough failures as I have, and some of you would say no, and for reasons that aren’t entirely invalid. But this is where those misconceptions I spoke of come to play. Most people either don’t know what the etiquette for formal marriage proposals or offers are. I think a lot of people are under the impression that men and women are simply arranged, introduced, and then forced to marry. I assure you, it’s nothing of the sort. It might have been so many years ago, but we’ve grown past the point where parents simply force marriage upon their children. Not to say it doesn’t happen, it’s just less common nowadays.

It is a little old fashioned, so usually men are the first to offer proposals. I’m not sure how often these proposals are directly from the interested party to potential suitor, but more often than not the proposals and offers go through parents and family. A boy will notice a girl, so he’ll tell his mother or father, they’ll ask around about the family and eventually speak with them. If the girl, or her parents are interested, they’ll speak with her about it. If she’s interested, then there will be a formal introduction, and boy and girl can see how well they work together. At this point, I’m sure you think once they’ve decided they work together dates will be set, but that isn’t so. They can take as long as they want to get to know each other, as in any relationship. The only difference is that in this scenario, there is a clear and present goal in mind. Neither of them has to guess if the other does or doesn’t want to commit, or if they’re ready to settle down or whether or not they want kids (This isn’t always the case, but believe me, we, as in my people, ALL want kids. I myself want an army of children. More on this later too). They both know what they’re getting into, and all the big questions have already been answered. All that’s left is to see if there is chemistry. And if there isn’t, they can back out at any time.

The biggest argument most people have against arranged marriages is that you aren’t marrying for love. That you marry more for compromise and formality more than anything, or that he or she isn’t the one. I told you, there is no “one”. There are simply those that work, and those that don’t. If two people should be compatible, and have at least some semblance of chemistry, what’s to say they could never love each other? It’s not just something that is, or isn’t. To me, companionship should be about growing together, building comfort and trust and learning to complete each other over time.

So, why shouldn’t you be able to do that through an arrangement? I’m not saying it will work out, or that it works out more often than finding someone yourself (regardless of what statistics might say). It’s just a means to an end. An end we’re all trying to reach. Not everyone is capable of it, because it takes an exceptional amount of compromise and understanding. But if it is an option, then why not?

Like I said, I’m a romantic. I’d still love to find the right girl, at the right place, at the right time, and say just the right things. There isn’t much I wouldn’t give for a love like the movies, but I know well enough that it isn’t likely to happen. So, while I’m visiting Bangladesh this winter, maybe I’ll get my mother to introduce me to someone.

It’s a thought.

On The Matter Of Beards

2009-09-24T21:03:00.021-04:00

Beloved friends and readers, there is a hole in my heart. A hole that gets bigger every time I look at myself in a mirror. A hole that I have found impossible to fill. This hole, I'm afraid, can only be filled by the magnificence of a fully grown beard. But alas! That is something I cannot achieve at this stage of my growth as a man. Try as I may, all I seem to end up with are pube-like patches along my jaw that make me look dirty, and a little Spanish.

I have a dream, my fellow bloggers. I have a dream I can go outside, put my chin out and let the world bask in the glory of my facial hair. That one day, I will be counted alongside some of history's greatest Bearded Men.

One day, you just wait. One day I shall have a beard so powerful that mountains will crumble before the sight of it. So potent, that in its presence loins will burn with insatiable heat, and men and women alike will wish to carry my seed. One day, my friends. One day!

Do you think using Rogaine on my face would work? I've been considering it for a while, but I'm not entirely sure if it's a viable method for growing facial hair. Maybe I should take testosterone supplements? But then I might end up with tits and a beard, and that just... Let's just not go there.

Feel free to hold the Manson thing against me, but like Olivander said: "He did great things. Terrible, but great."
________________________________

I posted this on my tumblr, but I don't think many of you follow that so I'll post it here. It's a flask I bought and drew on. I've been wanting to buy a flask for some time, but it didn't occur to me until I noticed this one in Urban Outfitters that I could decorate it with some awesome Graffiti. I'm pretty happy with the way it came out, although the white isn't as bright in person. Maybe I'll re-do it with some white-out.

Speaking of Graffiti, I've got two Speedart videos coming up. The sketches are finished, I'm just working out which color schemes and video effects I want to go with. The art will be superb, I promise you. Considerably better than my first one, even though it was just a test. I've been wanting to record a new one for some time, but like with all things I just forget and end up taking ridiculous amounts of time to do anything. I've actually got a lot of Art projects I'd like to work on, just need to get the right supplies together. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with them though, because I can't hang them up in my room. I'd have to replace my posters, and I love my posters. I don't think I want to sell them, but maybe I'll have a contest or something on here? Would any of you be interested in participating? I think I could come up with something interesting. We'll see.
________________________________

Matt: You didn't get Gandalf in there.
Me: Fuck! That's who I forgot! I'll switch Castro out.
Matt: Lmao
Me: OH! And one other! Check now.
Matt: Ohh, what about Ben Kenobi? Should use the older him as a tribute imo.
Me: Well four of them are already dead men, I figured I'd use new Kenobi instead. Also because Ewan McGregor is a hottie.
Matt: Just link this shit: http://www.worldbeardchampionships.com/
Me: HAH! Holy shit.

Veritaserum

2009-09-15T23:20:00.004-04:00

j asked:

If you were a woman, who would you be? And yeah, where the f*ck have you been, Hufflepuff?

Say what you want, but I'd be Megan Fox. Why? I don't have to explain myself, I'm Megan Fox. Beautiful people don’t need reasons for things. Also, how DARE you call me a Hufflepuff! I am offended.

Kacy asked:

I have a question! What real life girl would you want to marry one day? And did she get you the epic toaster? LOL

:D I already know so much about you, soooo let's see... Will you marry me!?

Is this a trick question? Yes. Yes I will. *Noms on toast*

eQ asked:

What do you want to be when you grow up? And are you on the path to make that happen? Is there a fucking reason you don't blog more?

I've never had a clear-cut career path that I wanted. When I was a kid, the only thing I hoped to ever be one day was a super villain. Part of me still really does. But really, I'd like to be a Jack-of-all-trades. A writer, an artist, a musician, a comedian, maybe even a dancer. I just want to do the things I love to do. As far as making that happen, I'd say I'm coming along okay so far. I could put more effort into it sure, but as with nearly everything else, I take my sweet fucking time.

I haven't been blogging much recently because I started playing World of Warcraft again. There, it's out. My Paladin is finally level 80 though, so I promise I'll play less now. Promise.

Kelvin Oliver asked:

I have a question! Do you actually having conversations with yourself? And and maybe a second one... what is something I or anyone else may not know about you may not want to tell at anytime? Like what goes on in between writing your blog?

I do, in fact, have conversations with myself. Not aloud, but in my head. You could say there are voices, but that wouldn't be entirely accurate. It's more like certain aspects of my persona each have a voice in my mind, and when I think about things, it's sort of like a group discussion between each voice. It's usually between two others and myself. Am I crazy? You decide.

There isn't much more to reveal about myself, honestly. I have maybe two really big secrets, but everything else is out in the open. As far as what goes on between in between writing my blog... Well, not much really. The same as anyone else; spending time with friends, playing music, video games, reading, so on and so forth. Honestly my life has been pretty boring lately, which is why I haven't had much to blog about. Also because I've been playing World of Warcraft. I'm not sure if leading a boring life and playing WoW go hand in hand, but it does seem that way a lot of the time.

miss*H asked:

okay..how do you get your youtube video bar to only show 4 videos? Seriously, I really want to know because mine shows about 10 and is massive...its very important I tell thee!

It only shows 4 because I only have 4 videos uploaded to my YouTube channel. I think if I were to put more videos up, more would show on the bar. I have no idea. You could try messing with the coding to limit how many it shows, if there is any such option. Otherwise I'm clueless. Google it, man.

Jaye asked:

lol Asif you're so lame.

Would you rather die from paper cuts or have feet for hands?

aaand

Anal: yay or nay?

Being lame is the new being cool. And what the fuck mate? I could DIE from paper cuts or have feet for hands? I'd rather be alive and deformed than die by what I imagine would be a slow and tedious death. Having feet for hands wouldn't even be so bad. You could fix that shit with surgery. And how would you die from paper cuts anyway? Unless you end up cutting open an artery it doesn't seem likely. I mean we'd have to be talking about some fucking razor sharp paper here. I'm going to be nervous around paper now, thanks.

And as for anal… Yay. Yay, yay, a million times yay. I said what what, in da butt.

Jill Pilgrim asked:

If you were going to commit a crime, punishment free, what would it be?

Genocide. Hands down. I mean really, if I'm going to commit a crime and not be punished for it, why not go balls deep and make it something really terrible? Murder would come to mind first, sure. But I like to think a little bigger than that. I would subjugate and then eradicate an entire race of people. Yes, that would be it.

That or steal a ton of money. Like, hundreds of trillions.

Rebel Mel asked:

Tell me, fellow habitual smoker, what’s the most fucked up thing you have ever pondered, while high as a kite. I wanna’ hear it, every last juicy detail of it.

Baha, that’s a great question, and it’s definitely something only a stoner would ask. I’ve thought about a lot of weird shit while stoned, most of which I can’t recall, naturally. It’s always really random shit depending on what I’m doing or watching. But if we’re going with what’s most fucked up, I’d say it’s that I’ve often spent an inordinate amount of time while stoned thinking about eating people. Yes, people. Now don’t go flipping out on me, all right? Yes, it’s sick and disgusting and all around batshit crazy, but I was stoned god damnit. Also? I was watching The Food Network. The majority of the time that I’ve spent high over the last five or six years has been with my best friend Mike, and more often then not, for whatever reason we just sit around at his place watching The Food Network. My mind wanders, and somehow I always end up wondering what human flesh tastes like. Seriously, if you cook it right, anything could taste pretty decent. So theoretically, if you were to cook human flesh, it wouldn’t be too bad right? Supposedly we taste like Chicken or something, but people say that about everything.

Andhari asked:

What are your top 5 favorite movie snacks?

I'm so not creative, I'll go with this second question:

Say they choose you as the next James Bond and let you decide 3 Bond Girls. Who will you choose and why?

I don’t think I have a top five… So long as it’s something I can pick up with my hand and put into my mouth without having to avert my eyes, I’m okay. Nachos, chips, candy, such and such. Shit like that. Ideally, I prefer to either eat and then watch a movie, or watch a movie and then eat. I like to focus while watching films so I usually don’t do much else while watching a movie.

Oh man, this is an excellent question. Let’s see… Megan Fox would be the first, just because. Second I think would be Kate Beckinsale, once again because she’s just so hot, and because she’s actually a pretty decent actress. Third would go to Scarlett Johansson because… Look, they’re BOND girls. You might as well have just asked me “Who are your three favorite hot actresses” If I’m Bond, and they’re in my movie, we’re doing it. Be it on set or otherwise, there’s no fucking way I’m going to work with them and not hit that. No. Fucking. Way.

fLeshed eMotion asked:

So what is your master plan to fake your own death?

I haven’t put as much thought into this recently, but there are a lot of factors to consider when faking one’s death. The biggest issue of course is that in most cases, a body is necessary for proof of death. I’d thought that death by incineration would be all right, but apparently unless you’re completely incinerated, they can ID you by dental records. And it’s not often that people are completely burnt to ashes anyway. But I have been thinking that a secluded accident out at sea would pass. Let’s say, drowning or a sunken ship. That happens often enough to be passable, especially if it’s somewhere remote. Man I really shouldn’t be telling people about this. You may have ruined my plan :\

Destrades asked:

You’re answering the questions in a separate blog post, right?

DOES THAT COUNT AS MY ONE QUESTION? SHIT.

…Yes.

Timoteo asked:

You are allowed to send one message (not to exceed 140 characters) back in time to your 18-year-old self. What the F' do you write?

God, thanks for the restriction. Let’s see…

ASK HER OUT.

Yeah, I think that would suffice. I think you can figure out why ._.

otherworldlyone asked:

Here's a question: Did you get your damn prize in the mail, funny guy?

YES. Yes I did. Completely forgot to mention it. I haven’t actually got around to opening it yet, only because I don’t have anyone to practice on. But for anyone reading this now, anyone who would like to test out my awesome massage skills, call me.

Ben asked:

What were you like as a small child?

I was hyperactive and overly imaginative.

Have you ever used humor as a defense mechanism, to avoid being serious about something?

Always. More often than not I’ll make a joke first, and then switch to being serious for no real reason. It’s a reflex.

Girls with tattoos on their lower back: sexy or just wrong?

I wouldn’t say it’s sexy, but it’s not really wrong either. I think it might be a distraction depending on what it is. If it’s one of those generic tribal designs, it’s fine. But if it’s something intricate and obscure I’m going to spend a lot of my doggy-style time trying to figure out what this tattoo is all about. That’s just the kind of guy I am.

Strangest place you have released the contents of your bladder?

Uh… I don’t really know. I’ve released my bladder in quite a few locations, but I’m not sure which would be the strangest. I once peed into a 40 bottle and threw it out the window. I don’t remember why. But I think that’s as weird as it got. The rest were just your average public spots, trees, parks, alleyways, so on and so forth.

How long is a piece of string?

Another trick question! It depends on the piece string god damn it.

Is getting up at 5pm and sitting watching cartoons in your underwear an acceptable activity for a 24-year-old man?

It’s acceptable to me, that’s for sure. I do it fairly often myself. If I had TV I would still get up early every Saturday to watch cartoons. That’s the probably the part of my childhood I miss the most. Back when Pokémon as new and shit? Man, those were good days.

I Also Wish I Had Theme Music

2009-09-05T21:44:00.008-04:00

So, I'm Brown. You guys noticed that right? I hope so. I don't mean my skin color, though. When I say Brown, I'm referring to my ethnicity. Yes I know that's not a real ethnicity. Brown is just how I refer to people of South Asian decent. You know, India, Pakistan, Bangladesh and such? The sub-continent that was under British rule for a few hundred years? Gandhi? Turbans? Magic fucking carpets?! Wait, those are ours right? Or do the Arabs get that? Was Aladdin an Arab or was he Brown? The song was Arabian Nights...

Anyway, much to the displeasure of all my high school chums who thought Arabs and South Asians were the same thing, I am from the country of Bangladesh, which means calling me a Dune Coon, Camel Jockey, or Sand Nigger would be incorrect. Although I really love the way Dune Coon rolls off the tongue.

The reason I bring it up is; I had Mersiha over on Friday and we watched one of my favorite Indian movies, "Kuch Kuch Hota Hai". If there's one thing that Brown people have in common, it's that during most of our childhoods we've watched a number of Bollywood movies (I hope I don't have to explain what Bollywood is). I say childhood because it's usually only when we're kids that we end up watching them because our parents happen to want to watch them (this applies only to American raised Brown people). Admittedly, there were a number I watched willingly because I did enjoy them, but the majority of them I don't really care for because they're mostly cheesy and repetitive.

In case you've never seen a Bollywood movie, there's one thing that you should know. Every single one of them includes an ass ton of singing and dancing. The way it happens is, Story-Story-Story-SINGINGANDDANCINGYEAAAAH-Story-Story-MORESINGINGANDDANCINGYEAAAAAH-
Story-Story-Story- repeat this about four or five times and you've got yourself a typical Bollywood movie.

Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm actually quite fond of choreographed dancing and singing. It makes me really happy inside whenever I watch a musical. Shit, I wish every day that my life were more like a musical. It's my dream that maybe, just maybe, one day at any particular time and place I and everyone around me will spontaneously break into song and dance. People would spin around lamp posts and step in unison down the sidewalk and cars would honk along to the melody and everyone would know all the words. It would be GLORIOUS. Ah... what a dream.

I hope it happens on my wedding day, that would be fucking amazing.

This is one of the songs I like from the movie I mentioned. Enjoy.

BROWN PEOPLE WOOOOOOOO!
________________________________

The answers to your questions will be up as my next post. I'm taking my time so I don't end up giving you all mediocre answers. Shut up and wait.

Looooooove you!

Ask And You Shall Recieve

2009-08-28T00:31:00.005-04:00

I know I haven't been posting much lately, but I just haven't felt the flow of words recently, so whenever I want to post nothing really comes to mind. Never fear, though. I'm not quitting or anything. Fuck that noise, quitting is for quitters. I've got stuff I'm working on though, so expect a number of concentrated doses of hilarity in the near future.

In the meantime, I wanted to try something a little more interactive that Kelvin had mentioned. I want you (as in the reader) to ask me a question. Anything at all, don't be afraid to get personal, and I'll try not to let you down with my answer. I know there are a lot of you who read but never comment, so I'm hoping some of you mute shmucks will come out of the woodwork and ask a question. Seriously, get to it.
________________________________

Jacob: Today, my friend was helping me with my interview for a new job. I was doing great until he asked "Would you rather be a Jedi or a Wizard?" Suffice to say, that was the single most difficult question I have ever had to decide in my entire life. MLIA
Jacob: I'd accuse this of being yours
Jacob: but it was practicing for a job interview
Jacob: which just rules you right the fuck out, don't it
Me: HEY
Me: NOT
Me: ...ENTIRELY
Me: /WRISTS

I Heart 69

2009-08-18T17:14:00.002-04:00

Grats eQ on being my sexiest follower.
Sorry I pronounced it "ew kew", I don't know why I did.
I've been drinking.

We're Gonna' Be Stars

2009-08-14T00:33:00.003-04:00

My best friend Mersiha and I have decided that it is our life's passion to become famous porn stars. Well, for me it's more of a Plan B (a very sexy Plan B), but for her, it's her lifelong dream come true. We were both lucky enough to be casted in the same scene, and today was the shoot. The scenario was quite perfect; she was to be gagged and tied, and then gang raped by several men (myself among them). For disclosure purposes I'm not allowed to share any of the video, but let me tell you that it was marvelous. Mersiha really is a convincing actor, and I could tell she really enjoyed having all of her orifices penetrated repeatedly. Honestly, I think this really brought us much closer as friends. I look forward to doing a lot more work with her.

___

Just as a side note, don't listen to anything she says about what actually happened today, she's a little shy about it so she might try to cover it up with some nonsense about a normal movie shoot for some made up friend. Complete nonsense, obviously. I assure you I and several other well hung young men penetrated her repeatedly on camera and it was good times for all.

Yo, Bro

2009-08-01T00:20:00.003-04:00

I was a terrible older brother.

Well, I wasn't that bad, but I certainly could have been better. I've blocked most of my childhood memories, but I remember the day my parents came home with my younger brother, and I can only say that it was awkward, at least that's what I think I felt (I was four, fuck if I remember). While growing up, I could never shake the feeling that my parents loved him more than me, but I think that's something every older sibling feels. It's as if the second time around they try harder to not make the same mistakes they did the first time. Whether it's paranoia or not, I'm not sure. But that feeling never really leaves.

So, right. I was a terrible older brother. I was pretty much a dick on a regular basis. And I don't just mean I treated him like shit, I mean I was a sadistic fucking prick, okay? Look, I had a lot of my own issues and a fuck ton of pent up aggression, so I ended up taking it all out on him. Examples? My brother was (I don't know if he still is) extremely claustrophobic. So, for the sake of my own absurd and perverse pleasure, I would pin him down and cover him with the blanket on our bed and watch him scream bloody murder; "I CAN'T BREATHE! I CAN'T BREAAAATHE!" he would scream, and I would laugh maniacally back yelling "YES YOU CAN, STUPID! HAHA".

I used to pick him up from school on occasion, and often while walking home, he would complain about how fast I would walk because he had trouble keeping up. So to scare him and once again grasp such fiendish bliss, I would run as fast as I could and leave him far behind. Instead of running after me, he would stop moving entirely and stand there crying after me. He'd burst into tears and I would pause, far ahead of him, only to laugh hysterically at his misfortune and confusion. Yes, dear readers, I was that fucked up.

He had open heart surgery at 11 (heart murmur, had to have a valve replaced), and it was then that I garnered the most frustration towards him and my parents. Because of his condition, he became untouchable. I couldn't do a thing to him, and they showered him with affection, praise, and gifts as often as they possibly could. All the while I stood on the sidelines and stewed, angry and seething with jealousy. But eventually I learned to just put it aside and deal, and at some point I stopped taking out my frustrations on him.

In my defense I'll say that I was a very angry and confused child while growing up. And as I grew older, I was much less of a complete bastard towards him. But as he grew older, he became so much of a complete fuck up that I didn't see any more reason to mess with him. By 12, he was a delinquent vandal drug addict, and part of it was my fault. He did what any younger brother would do, and tried to emulate his older brother. This was around the time when I'd first gotten into Graffiti, and he ended up befriending a number of people (that I later decided I wanted nothing to do with) in order to do what I was doing. They twisted him, and he ended up a reckless and out of control mess, so by 14 he was in rehab, and at 15... Well, you know how foreign parents often threaten their kids with sending them back to their country as punishment? Yeah, he got that bad. That's why my mother and my brother currently live in Bangladesh. Most people assume it's because my parents split up, but the real reason is my brother.

But we've both grown up now, and his time spent over there has changed him. We've found common ground (we're both potheads now) to stand on, and apart from occasional disputes, we never fight as seriously as we used to. But it's also because I've grown to be considerably more patient with him. I realize that a lot of his negative characteristics are my own fault, so I try my best to teach him in whatever way I can, and impart whatever wisdom he's willing to take in. Because despite how much of a dick I was to him, we were still brothers through it all. He never ratted me out no matter what I did to him, and I've never ratted him out no matter what crazy shit he got himself into. He's the only brother I've got, and he honestly knows me inside and out like no one else. We don't even need to talk all that often, or see each other all the time, and we'll still get each other through all the bullshit, and I know we'll always have each other's backs.

I might not have really wanted a brother to start out with, but I'm glad I've got the one I do.

Well, Somebody Cares

2009-07-24T15:51:00.003-04:00

The Honest Scrap Award rules are as follows:

1. “The Honest Scrap” award is not one to hold all to your self but it must be shared!

2 .The recipient has to tell 10 true things about themselves in their blog that no one else knows.

3. The recipient has to pass along this prestigious award to 10 more bloggers.

4. Those 10 bloggers all have to be notified they have been given with this award.

5. Those 10 bloggers that receive this award should link back to the blog that awarded them.

Well, OtherWorldlyOne (jesus it feels awkward to call you that), thank you for this award. I'm going to assume you nominated me because I'm good looking and hilarious. I'm a big fan of yours, and it's my first award for anything, ever, so I really appreciate it. The fact that it's technically an imaginary and pointless award is irrelevant as far as I'm concerned, and if I could nominate you back, I would. Actually, can I? It doesn't say I can't. What if I just make up my own award? Am I allowed to do that? What are the guidelines for this sort of thing? Is there a FAQ? Someone answer these questions.

10 Things about myself that no one else knows? Oh for fucks sake. I'm not sure there are that many. I mean, I've allotted each close friend a carefully considered batch of secrets, so the list of things I've never told anyone is short. I guess I'll just come up with random shit that comes to mind.

1. I've shat myself three times in my life. (Apart from the unfortunate witnesses, I don't know if I've ever told anyone about this)
2. One time a girl asked me to pee on her during a blowjob. (I honestly can't think of that many people I've told about this, so I'm throwing it out there)
3. When I first hit puberty, I masturbated up to 20 times a day. It was a pretty bad habit for a while. (No I don't do it that often anymore)
4. From time to time, I intentionally contradict myself and my views to throw people off about who they think I am and what they know about me. This includes knowingly being a hypocrite.
5. I've put serious thought and consideration into committing murder before. And I mean I planned and plotted and nearly executed. (I bet you'd really love to know more)
6. I still daydream about being a superhero constantly. (At least once an hour)
7. I'm putting together a plan to fake my own death, should the need ever arise.
8. I once accidentally killed a baby duck, and I regret it to this day. (Buried her myself)
9. My mother almost died from blood loss while giving birth to me, my father gave his blood to save her.
10. While I'm at home alone, I fondle my balls compulsively.

Alright, there. Fairly revealing, no? I tried to be honest and stick to things I've actually never told anyone at all. Now what's the next part? Oh right, nominate 10 others. I'm going to draw blogs out of a hat at random, so if you ask me why I didn't pick you I'm going to punch you in the cunt.

1. Jill Pilgrim - The Pilgrim Congress
2. Mel - A Little Lady's Thug Life
3. Shelby - Shelbyisms
4. Ross - Ergo...
5. Lola - Lola Lakely: Life, Love, & the Pursuit of Insanity
6. Dani - A Daily Dose Of Dani
7. Kristine - Wait In The Van
8. J - Ninja Newsflash
9. Rolynda - Roly Vola
10. Imitsky - Intrepid At Breakfast

There. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and take care of something. No, not masturbation, I did that before posting. Sort of my warm-up ritual. I think I'm going to go buy a whole cheesecake and eat the whole thing by myself. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.

Where I Am, Where I Thought I'd Be

2009-07-22T21:46:00.002-04:00

Hi!

Before I start my post, I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Leah from Bitemarks and I’ll be guest blogging for Asif, while he’s over at my blog for today as part of the blog swap hosted by 20 something bloggers. If you’re a blogger and you’re in your 20’s and not a member of this site, get on it! I’ve met some amazing people through this network and also found some great reading material in the process. Okay, on to my post.

In August, I’m about to reach a pretty big milestone in my life. I’m going to turn 25…a quarter of a century. I used to imagine where I’d be at 25, which in high school seemed ancient. In my naïve 17 yr old mind, I thought I had found the man I was going to be with FOREVER (doesn’t everyone think their first love is the ONE?). I thought I’d already have a baby, or at least be on my way to having one. I thought I’d own my own business, either a bookstore or boutique, I’d have a story published in the New Yorker, or by then be a regular contributor, and while I’m accomplishing all of this, my partner, the famous rocker would be touring the country and we’d (me and bumpkin) join him on the road sometimes, you know…when I wasn’t doing press tours for my first best seller. I also thought I’d be living in New York or California, or have houses in both places.

I’m sure my view was skewed by the fact that my mom had me at such a young age, and despite being a single mother, she ended up very successful. Even though it was a struggle, I thought…if she can do all of that with NO HELP, just think of what I can accomplish with someone by my side! By 25, I’ll practically be a famous writer, and if no one knows my name, at least I’ll be rolling in dough! Did I mention I also wanted to have a Super Bowl commercial under my belt??

So here’s where I actually am, a month before my 25th birthday.

After working at a marketing agency for 2 yrs, which was a complete brain drain, I got laid off. Instead of owning my own business, I am jobless, with little to no prospects on the horizon. That’s a lie, I might have a $10/hr babysitting job lined up next month, which makes me feel like I’m about to turn 15, not 25!

I do have a wonderful guy, who I live with, but we’re nowhere near the marriage stage. Instead of dating a rocker, I ended up with a farmer! Ironic since I grew up on a farm, but never had the urge to go back to one…EVER. We probably aren’t ever going to go on a rock tour together, but he can play a mean version of the opening song to Flight of the Conchords on guitar.

I tried to start a greeting card company, but I didn’t have the funds so that’s just sitting on the backburner until I can figure out a way to not only pay my bills…but to also pay someone to illustrate cards for me. Know anyone who’s a phenomenal illustrator, with a quirky style, and who is willing to work for cupcakes? Or Quiche? I make a fabulous quiche.

I haven’t written a Super Bowl commercial, but I DID write some sales videos for Hewlett Packard…featuring a mad scientist and his skeleton sidekick…that’s close, right?

So anyway, I’m nowhere near where I thought I’d be, both in my career and in my personal life, but I have to say that even though my life is somewhat a mess, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to change any time soon, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Well, maybe I’d be employed, but the other stuff is cool. I have a roof over my head in a fun city with crappy weather, friends that know that alcohol therapy is one of the only ways to make a girl feel better, a mom who knows that retail therapy is the other way to make me feel better, and a guy, who despite his love of hair bands is my biggest supporter but also realistic enough to tell me that opening a store that only sells quiche in this economy is NOT a good idea. It sounded like one at the time.

Are you where you thought you’d be ?

Plumbing Is Stupid And I'm Bald (Not because of plumbing)

2009-07-17T20:09:00.009-04:00

Over the last few days three plumbers have taken a look at my kitchen and bathroom sinks, and it's only after today that they've managed to fix both of them. And that's after they've made a ridiculous mess in both areas. I spent the majority of my day trying to wipe stains off of my kitchen floor. For some fucking reason no matter what I did they wouldn't come off (kind of like like when you wipe semen off on a white towel and let it dry, and then it just never comes off properly). I even went so far as to mix my own cleaning concoction, but still no luck. Whatever, fuck this noise.
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Yesterday, I shaved my head bald. There isn't a distinct reason, really. I just sort of felt like doing it and it seemed like a good idea at the time. I do, however, pull it off well enough because my head is exceptionally round. Which, by the way, isn't a coincidence. My mother informed me that apparently, while I was an infant, my grandmother would turn me from side to side while I slept to make sure that an equal amount of pressure was applied to each side of my head, thus shaping it into its current gloriously round state. So thank you, grandma.

Some time last year while I was growing my hair back out, I had decided I was completely fucking sick of it and buzzed it all off one night while I was hammered. And naturally, I thought it would be a good idea to document it, so I made a video:

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I know my posts have been pretty weak recently, but I just haven't felt much like writing, and there hasn't been anything worth writing about. I'm a moody bastard and I go through periods of exceptional introversion, so give me a bit and I'll be back to normal soon enough.

I have, however, been working on some drawings, and my next Speed Art video, so there's that to look forward to. I also laminated and re-posted my wall hangings. I used black tape as a make-shift frame, so they look a little nicer on my wall now.

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On another note, just to let you all know beforehand, I signed up on 20SB for blogswap, which means that on Wednesday, July 22, I'm going to be switching blogs with a partner I'm randomly assigned to and making a post. Really, I was bored so it seemed like a good idea. Hey, if anything they'll be better at this than I am (not that I'm even remotely good at this). But I've been exceptionally uninspired recently (hence my lack of relevant posts) so I figure why the fuck not.

Here's hoping I don't run her blog into the ground with my questionable post material.

Broken Character

2009-07-13T05:54:00.004-04:00

My father always seems to know just how to sum up my character, if only unintentionally.

Yes, our sink is broken. In fact, it broke as he attempted to fix it. The rickety pipes just couldn't handle his tinkering, apparently. Our landlord is off in Greece for vacation, so it would appear that we will be without a kitchen sink for the next few weeks.

I'm aware that this is completely useless information, but I just wanted to elaborate on my use of this picture.

My point is, I am as broken as my kitchen sink. I'd elaborate, but it's 6 in the morning and I just had my first drink in two weeks, so I think I'd rather revel in euphoria as I listen to Led Zeppelin and daydream about being with people who aren't here yet.

VAGUE POST IS VAGUE.

I'm A Nerd With Strange Talents

2009-07-04T23:00:00.001-04:00

I posted this on my Twitter and Tumblr, but I'm posting it again because that's how proud of it I am. I'm like a digital interior decorator. That's a real profession, shut up. I've just been watching a lot to do with giant robots. I'm a ridiculously big nerd and I love it. That background image isn't CG or Photoshopped, Japan actually has a Gundam Monument. A life size Gundam statue that lights up and moves. Who wants to go see it with me? You're paying.

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Earlier in the week I attempted to do some weight training for my legs, since I've neglected to do so during my routines over the last few months. It's been so long that I ended up overworking them and pulling muscles in both legs. I've subsequently been hobbling and wobbling my way around at home for the past few days. But it's not as bad as anymore. On the morning after working out, I actually couldn't stand up at all. I really don't need any more reasons to lay around. Well I don't actually have any reasons, I just really like to lay around.

That's a lie. I hate it. Please come give me an excuse to get up and go out.
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In any case, to shed some more light on how much of a nerd I am, the one thing I've been spending most of my time on recently is playing through some of my old Playstation RPG's. Primarily Final Fantasy IX. But that's not all, oh no. I've also been playing Starcraft on my laptop at the same time. I'm sure you're thinking "But Asif! Pray tell how?".

Well, when I first started playing RPG games on my Playstation, I was of course immediately addicted. So naturally I would spend countless amounts of time playing through them, putting endless hours into each game to master it fully. When I played Final Fantasy VII for the first time, I would often get upset at having to take breaks during play to eat, as that's really the only other thing I did at the time. So, in an attempt to bypass this unfortunate hindrance, I decided to figure out a way to play the game without having to stop even for an instant, and get my munching in while doing so. My solution? Play with my feet, eat with my hands.

I have pretty big feet, and my toes are strangely elongated, at least in comparison to most other toes, I think. It's not like I study toes or have a foot fetish, but most people seem to agree with me. Perhaps my toes are just particularly flexible? I don't know. This was the only solution I could come up with, and the only other option was eat with my feet and play with my hands, but I can't bend quite that way just yet.

It's not nearly as hard as you might think it is. Personally I think we don't use our toes to their fullest potential. They're quite capable if you train them often enough, and I have strengthened my toes considerably over the years. I'm fairly positive I could kill a small animal with them, but for now I'll stick to button mashing my way through slow-paced role playing games.

It just occurred to me to make a video of this. I'm not sure how I would manage it though. If I can apprehend a camera man, I'll put something together and get back to you. I know you'd all absolutely love to witness this particular talent of mine.

Hee-Hee, Hoo-Hoo

2009-06-26T02:25:00.002-04:00

Alvi: ur fuckina weosme man
Alvi: fuckin agaweomsne.
Asif: i..
Asif: what did i do now
Alvi: lmaoo dude i amcae home at 5am
Asif: and how does that make me awesome
Alvi: FUCKING AWESOME
Alvi: cause u are the creator ofa ll that is good
Alvi: craeatoer of alcoholc
Alvi: the creater of apples
Alvi: the creator of apples.
Alvi: whoa i mentioed apple twice
Asif: Oh i thought you were about to tell me i was in trouble for something, but you're just drunk. Phew.
Asif: Oh by the way, Michael Jackson died.
Alvi: YOUR
Alvi: FUCKING
Alvi: LIED
Alvi: UDE
Asif: NOPE
Alvi: I"LL CRY
Asif: LOOK IT UP
Alvi: I SWEAR
Asif: HE IS DEAD.
Alvi: I SWEAR I"LLL CRY
Asif: it's time to shed those tears. LET IT ALL OUT.
Alvi: yo this is the worst news in the world to hear when ur drunk
Alvi: im about to dance to thriller i swear
Asif: I think that's really the only way to cherish his memory
Asif: COME, LET US DANCE TO THRILLER TOGETHER.
Alvi: CAUES THIS IS THRILLERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
Asif: THRILLLEEERRR NIIIIIIGHT
Alvi: dude i had so many tiquela shots
Asif: I'm sure you did.
________________________________

The next bit of news is that my mother adopted a baby on Sunday. She's been wanting to for some time now, and I guess the opportunity arose and she jumped at it. My father named her, and said it was the greatest father's day gift ever. I'm pretty fucking excited, honestly. I've always wanted a baby sister. I can't wait to go and see her! She was born on the 18th, and her name is Azra. I'll post pics when I get good ones.

Asif: My mother adopted a 3 day old girl.
Jacob: she's a force sensitive
Jacob: and she's hiding her from the empire.
Asif: LOL If only.
Jacob: you know what the empire does to force sensitives born in bangladesh
Jacob: tigers
Asif: Those bastards.
Jacob: tigers wearing stormtrooper helmets
Asif: That's.... An amazing image
Jacob: useful in empire recruiting posters
Jacob: SERVE THE EMPIRE
Jacob: WE HAVE FUCKING TIGERS AND THEY HAVE ARMOR
Jacob: HOW FUCKING COOL IS THAT
Asif: LOL

Do You Love Me, Mary Jane?

2009-06-20T19:31:00.010-04:00

Maryjane - Rick James

So, if I were to tell you all that I habitually smoked marijuana... You would believe me, right? I'd hope so, otherwise you've completely misjudged my character and I demand you get out of my house. Or my internet. Look, they're both mine, just shut up and get out.

Now, to the rest of you, what was I saying? Oh, right, the Ganja. Reefer madness! Oh sweet sweet Mary Jane. Yes, we've got quite a lot of history, her and I. From the time I had my first taste and ended up four hours late to pick my younger brother up from school (I got there and found him sitting in the office crying, yes I'm the best big brother ever BLOW ME), to that time a few weeks ago with Mike when we discovered the meaning of life was hidden in Bob Ross' painting. No seriously, have yourself a few bowls and just watch him go at it. Hell, do it sober, you'll still come to the same conclusion. Bob Ross has discovered the meaning of life and he's trying to teach it to us, one soften spoken quip at a time.

I had another long and arduous day of pot-smoking with Mike yesterday. Well, arduous in the sense that after you've smoked that much weed pretty much anything that doesn't involve food is considered strenuous activity. So naturally we spent the majority of our high times sitting on his bed watching Bobby's World on YouTube, which by the way is a fucking trip. On my way home, when I got to the turnstile at the train station, I actually took out my keys and stood for a few minutes trying to figure out what was wrong with the situation. As it turns out, apparently my keys don't also act as a metro-card (they really should though). All in all I'd say it was a fairly successful day, wouldn't you?

I don't think I'll ever stop, honestly. There is absolutely no harm in casual pot-smoking, and I strongly recommend that everyone try it at least once. Really, it could turn your day, week, or even your whole life right around. Whatever your taste for high may be, I'll bet you there's a flavor of reefer that's just right for you. I've varied my smokage up pretty well over the years so I've come across many a flavor myself. As a matter of fact, I've even smoked some of what this fine young lady must have had:

I really thought I was melting into the couch, okay? I'd convinced myself that I was becoming one with this piece of furniture (which I could NOT seem to lift myself from), and that I would have to reestablish my entire identity as upholstery. It was intense, and AWESOME.

But fine, I understand drugs may not "be for everybody". But if there was one drug that could be, it would unquestionably be marijuana.
________________________________

Asif: This post doesn't feel up to par. It's missing something.
Aaren: A picture of my sweet ass.
Asif: I do still have that picture...
Aaren: ...
Asif: Wait let me find it.
Aaren: Ahahahaha

On Questionable Offers

2009-06-15T22:19:00.008-04:00

On the train ride home tonight, the woman sitting next to me whispered an offer to felate me for five dollars. Normally I'd have accepted, but I was positive the slightest contact with the crusted and haunting cavity you'd call her mouth would have disintegrated my genitals. The well-being of my precious dangly-bits was at risk here, my friends. I think you'll agree that I made the right choice.

Also, I didn't have any cash.
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Aaren: YOU DENIED SUBWAY SEX?
Asif: From a five dollar whore.
Asif: I don't trust anything under 20.
Aaren: ...I would have tapped that shit. And then got medical for the herpes.
Asif: I'd rather just avoid the herpes altogether, thanks.
Aaren: what if...
Aaren: I had them, but was like, hey, wanna go?
Asif: That's a different story. You're not a 5 dollar whore.
Aaren: I charge 5 on Tuesdays.
Asif: I'll see you tomorrow.
Aaren: You better really have the money this time.
________________________________

Jaye: anyway, what'd you do today
Jaye: besides drink
Asif: what makes you think i drnak
Asif: ..
Asif: drank
Asif: I'm not drunk
Asif: that was just a typo
Asif: a sober typo
Jaye: liar
Asif: :\

Cooking With Cocaine

2009-06-10T01:19:00.011-04:00

Earlier today I attempted to cook myself a meal, and succeeded for the most part. But during the cooking itself I somehow splashed hot fucking oil onto my FACE. I managed to get most of it off pretty fast, but there was a small drop that hit my eyelid and burnt a bit of skin right off. My eyelid has been stinging like shit all day. Go me, I guess. More often than not my dad usually tells me to stay away from the stove all together because yes, as I'm sure you've guessed, I'm prone to accidents. It's not even that I can't cook, I just fuck up often because I'm forgetful and really retarded. The stove is literally 10 steps from my room, and somehow I still manage to forget something is there. I've put the kettle on for coffee/tea before, and forgotten only to come back later when all of the fucking water has evaporated.

When I was younger, I was considerably more hyperactive than I am now. I'd often follow my mom around the house, and if she were in the kitchen, that would be my playground for the day. One day while my mother was cooking, I'd decided that it would be a good idea to knock whatever it was she was cooking off the stove. So the entirety of this boiling concoction fell all over my infant head and burnt the shit out of it.

My mother reacted as promptly as she could, taking me in her arms and dipping my head into a bucket of cold water before she called 911. The paramedics came and I think I was just bandaged up for the most part and given a few pain killers. How hardcore am I though, eh? Just look at me! This is a token of my glorious youth as a badass. Head bandaged from burns and I'm smiling. Why? Because I knew I was that awesome.
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As some of you might know, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince is almost in theaters. And since it's nearly time, to refresh my knowledge of the original story; I'm re-reading the book and quizzing myself on the story. This won't actually serve any real purpose as the movies are usually so botched up they barely resemble the books, but I'm doing it anyway as an excuse to obsess over Harry Potter. I've spent several hours on Harry Potter trivia questions, and I can tell you that my Harry Potter knowledge is unparalleled. I'm not even sure how I know a lot of this stuff, I just do. Dumbledore's favorite flavor of jam? Raspberry. Number of staircases in Hogwarts? 142. Who wrote Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them? Newt Scamander. I just know these things, off the top of my head. Because ladies and gentlemen, I am a Potter freak, and damn proud of it.

Drivers (And Drinkers) Ed. With Dad

2009-06-07T02:42:00.008-04:00

My father is one of the few people I trust without question behind the wheel of a car. He's been driving for over 42 years now, and has driven in over 15 countries. I think it's safe to say that he's got a hefty amount of road time under his belt. When in the car together, my dad and I normally don't engage in much conversation. Usually I'll just make comments about particularly interesting cars I see, or talk about what's on the radio. Sometimes we'll even yell together at retarded drivers (this is how I learned my first swear word; asshole). But on occasion he'll take the time to teach me things about driving or tell me stories of his automotive exploits.

There's one ride from a few years ago that I enjoy reminiscing about. I don't remember the specifics of why we were out on the highway at two in the morning, but I know we were on our way home. I'd been dozing off with my head against the window, and when I got up to check the time I noticed that while driving with his left hand, my father was using his right hand to fill his Dunkin' Donuts coffee cup with Vodka (just so you know, I typo'd Dunkin' Donuts as Drunkin' Donuts). He then put the lid of the cup back on and put the bottle away beneath his seat. I saw this, and didn't say anything. As I've mentioned before, this isn't something that worries me. I'd seen him do shit like this plenty of times before, so it didn't bother me at all. He saw me notice this though, and to my surprise decided to say something about it.

"Asif, you want to know something?"
"Uh, sure. What's up?"
"I've been drinking and driving since 1972, okay? And I've never once been caught or given a ticket for it."
"That's... That's great dad. Good job?"

He went on to explain that the reason he's never been caught is that there is a proper way to drink and drive. And by proper of course, he means doing so without alerting the authorities to your inebriation. According to my wonderful father - who I'm going to go ahead and label as an expert on this, the key to drinking and driving properly is being good at both drinking and driving. You have to know how to drive well, and you have to know how to drink appropriately while doing so.

Drive cautiously, take no risks, and avoid areas you know the authorities are likely to be. And as far as drinking right; it's just a matter of pacing yourself. Downing a quart of rum a mile into your trip would make driving cautiously pretty hard, I think. So take your time with what you drink, and don't be conspicuous about it. Personally I think the coffee cup method is quite ingenious, but feel free to change it up to your liking. Follow these simple steps and you should be able to avoid any run-ins with the Law Man. Or, say, driving yourself up a fucking tree.

I'm not going to go so far as to say everyone should try this. I'm not that irresponsible. I'm just saying, if you must do it, do it right.

Or don't. I don't really care. You're more than welcome to put your life at risk, I know I would. Put your life at risk, that is.

________________________________

Asif: finally, 40 followers for my blog
Asif: looking at the number 39 has been driving me fucking nuts. i hate that number.
Jacob: why
Asif: i don't know
Asif: i'm like that with money. i don't like carrying cash that's not even or in multiples of five
Asif: change doesn't count, just bills
Jacob: this mornin I watched a 90 minute lecture. an anthropology lecture on religiosity and how genes for schizophrenia and ocd are not necessarily a dead end if they're not fully expressed, they're very powerful. numerology gets brought up. little remark about how the ancient hebrews were a 10 based society
Jacob: so
Jacob: grats jew
Asif: .... :|

Because You Care

2009-06-04T01:05:00.011-04:00

As I'm sure you've noticed (you've got downs syndrome if you haven't), I changed my layout. Aside from the fact that I have exorbitant amounts of free time, the only real reason I have for the change is that I want anyone who stumbles across my blog to think "Well well well! What have we here? The colors, the images, how creative! I must read on!".

St. Julia put it best in her profile: "This is a practice in narcissism. Somebody validate me, goddamnit."

I just want to be noticed.
_______________________________

Maine topless coffee shop gutted by overnight fire

I follow Weirdnews on twitter, and that's where I got this unfortunate bit of news. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't outraged. I was practically in tears after reading the entire article. How could someone do this? I'd read about this place sometime last year while they were still in planning and had hoped to visit once I had the chance. Now, my dream of enjoying a cup of coffee and perhaps a delicious piece of crumb cake while appreciating the female form are ruined.

Admittedly, the owner should probably have put a little more thought into the location for this particular establishment. Regardless of how marvelous an idea I might think it is, according to the article 97% of the town was opposed to it. If that's not a sign to reconsider, I don't know what is. But I doubt he thought they would go this far to stop him, and I'm sure there's no doubt that it was some religious nut that did it. I can only hope that someone is brought to justice for this heinous crime. And I pray that they'll rebuild.

Where else can I go for coffee and boobs?
Do strip clubs even serve coffee?
________________________________

Between me and Jaye. Screen shot is from her iPhone, so green is her if you don't know how iPhones work. I can't afford an iPhone :<. And by TFLN I mean Texts From Last Night, which I've been reading non stop for the last week. Seriously, this shit is fucking hilarious.
________________________________

I'm adding this because I just think it's immeasurably hilarious.
This right here is the original OM NOM NOM, okay?
COWABUNGAAAAAAAAA!

Bibbity, Bobbity, Blog

2009-05-31T22:57:00.001-04:00

This stupid fucking video was supposed to go up last night along with this blog. But for reasons I couldn't comprehend while drunk, blogger decided it was going to take several years to upload, and apparently the video is too heavy for YouTube and it kept slowing the video down till it looked absurd. Vimeo and Photobucket didn't work either and I have no idea why. But alas, I have succeeded through my delayed ingenuity (compressed it till it was tiny with iMovie).

________________________________

Yesterday, or maybe it was the day before that? I'm not sure. Anyway, my father told me that if I don't get a job by the end of next week he was going to send me to Bangladesh the following week. My parents had initially planned that I would go, but I've been arguing with them about it for the last month, and finally a week ago my father told me I could stay because he didn't really want to spend $1700 on a plane ticket anyway. But now apparently if I don't get a job I can't stay.

TODAY, he kicked me awake during my nap while yelling "WAKE UP, YOU'VE GOT A JOB LINED UP NOW"

He then handed me the phone and my cousin was on the line. Her husband runs a cell phone store in the Bronx and he's looking for help so if I needed a job she would talk to him about it. I told her to ask how much he's willing to pay and get back to me, but honestly I'd much rather not go with this option because:

1. I don't really like her husband that much. I mean he's an okay guy but he would get on my nerves often because we just have very different views on the world.
2. I don't want to spend four hours commuting to and from the Bronx every day. I've been to this neighborhood before and it's definitely not somewhere I'd want to be at night. Don't believe me? The fried chicken places (HURHUR BLACK PEOPLE HURHUR) have bullet proof glass over the counters. Yeah, that's not disconcerting at all.

Whatever I guess, it's better than nothing considering the time limit my father is giving me. I'll do it if it means I get to stay here this summer. I haven't spent a whole summer here in over two years, and there are things I'd like to do. Plus it would be nice to have a larger budget for debauchery and mischief.

One of the things I plan on doing this summer is taking Muay Thai with Pat. That's something I'm really looking forward to, as I've been wanting to fight for a while. What better way to get out aggression than by elbowing someone in the temple? Or having Pat kick me into a coma with his ridiculously heavy legs. He's a giant, but I really can't see how he's 180lbs. Reminds me of a friend I had in high school, this skinny black kid named Tyrone (SERIOUSLY, HILARIOUS). He was maybe 5'10 or 5'11 and really skinny, but somehow he weighed 190lbs. We could never figure out why, so eventually we came to the conclusion that he had a 30 pound penis.

Really, what else could it be?
________________________________

Alvi: dont u think
Alvi: the conversations with my self
Alvi: font
Alvi: is so gay.

Asif: it's one of the default fonts
Asif: for the header
Asif: i was actually going to re-do the layout.

Alvi: how hard is it to
Alvi: use a black marker
Alvi: and write it
Alvi: take a pic
Alvi: and photoshop it in

Asif: when you're lazy?
Asif: very hard.

Alvi: lol idiot

Asif: if i had a decent camera i would do that
Asif: but my phones camera is a piece of ass.

Alvi: you dont need a decent camera

Asif: i am a perfectionist.

Alvi: suck a dick you just like
Alvi: use the wand on it
Alvi: and use ur own color
Alvi: to fill it in
Alvi: and cut it out.

Asif: listen you want a wand
Asif: i got your wand right here, okay
Asif: come get it

Alvi: LOL

I meant like, in my pants, you know?

I'm talking about my penis.

You know what?

2009-05-26T23:41:00.003-04:00

Ask around, you'll find it's fact. You ain't neva' had a friend like me. I'm one of a fucking kind.

Asif: shit
Asif: drank too much
Asif: can't see what is being said
Asif: must.... focus
Mersiha: LOLOL
Mersiha: you're going to collapse in approxiametely 12 minutes
Asif: GOD DON'T JYNX IT

Babe I'm Gonna' Leave You

2009-05-25T00:25:00.005-04:00

Longer post in the works, but I haven't finished recording the videos for it. So until then here's a little update.

7:09:55 PM Asif: I think I'm going to delete my facebook/myspace
7:09:59 PM Jacob [Destrades]: faggot
7:10:06 PM Jacob [Destrades]: who the fuck does that
7:10:09 PM Asif: Me.
7:10:17 PM Jacob [Destrades]: "I don't like having an online presence."
7:10:25 PM Jacob [Destrades]: "Being contacted by people I know is too stressful."
7:10:30 PM Jacob [Destrades]: "I'm going to start over."
7:10:34 PM Asif: ahahaha
7:10:35 PM Jacob [Destrades]: It's a stupid fucking idea.
7:10:35 PM Asif: hardly.

I did it anyway, of course, and I'm glad I did. I feel quite liberated. Feels like a whole lot of my time just freed up. You know they try to guilt trip you when you deactivate FB?

Your pleas fall on def ears, Facebook. But this song is for you:

In any case, you shmucks know where to contact me. I Still have Blogger, Email, AIM, Twitter, and a phone that never rings. I'm not fussed.

My kinda' crowd, but I have a few questions...

2009-05-16T22:54:00.004-04:00

Say hello to my workstation. It has a habit of getting cluttered at times, but I somehow manage to get things done. The Boba Fett paraphernalia keeps me going. Actually I don't think I mentioned the plush I got from Jacob; that's the big Boba Fett head if you look carefully. I have to keep a stack of paper right in front of me at all times so I can make notes about random things. Or doodle graffiti. Both are imperative to my creative process. Also Booze.

But I digress. The matter at hand for today's post!

Craiglist to replace 'blatant internet brothel'

Craigslist will replace its controversial online "erotic services" listings with a section where ads are individually checked by Craigslist employees before they are posted, according to Connecticut Attorney General Richard Blumenthal. Blumenthal said, "I was informed by Craigslist late last night that it will eliminate the 'erotic services' section within seven days, create a new section called 'adult services' and manually review every ad posted there to bar flagrant prostitution and pornography."

I'm sure most of you have been on Craigslist for one reason or another at some point. And if you spend hours perusing the internet for laughs like I do, you're bound to end up browsing the personals and 'erotic service' ads on there. Seriously, some of this shit is pretty ridiculous. But that's not my point.

I was confused when I read this article a few days ago, because I just didn't understand what the big change being made was. Aside from heightened moderation, they're really only changing terminology. Specifically "Erotic Services" to "Adult Services." Does this really mean anything, though? I mean, whether you call them Adult or Erotic Services, I'm still going to end up thinking about the same things; IE: A Bismarck, Cajun Hot Stick, Chili Dog, Dirty Sanchez, Flaming Amazon (look this one up, it's a personal favorite), Jelly Donut, or a Rusty Trombone. Some filthy fuck (like myself) wants to get it on in a weird and disgusting way and he's sure to find the answer to his prayers on Craigslist if he looks long enough.

There's just no denying that no matter how much moderation and name changing they might implement, you'll still be able to find someone in your city that's willing to take part in some of these pleasant activities with you. God bless the internet, I say!
________________________________

On a similar topic, there's a question I've been pondering for quite a few years now:

What kind of community do you have to be a part of to get invited to a gang bang? I don't mean this rhetorically, I seriously want to know where and when these things happen. I mean, they're not a myth, are they? It's not just something that happens in pornos, is it? Surely not in this degenerate day and age! Somewhere out there, someone is planning, organizing and sending out invitations for a gang bang, people. And the fact that I'm not invited is really disconcerting. Is it so much to ask for? I have a dream, my friends. I have a dream that one day I'll receive an email that says "Dear Mr. Brown, you are cordially invited to Fuck Fest 2000 whatever, and it would be our greatest pleasure if you could attend." Is that so much to ask for?

Maybe they're being subtle and inviting in disguise? Some time ago Jacob informed me of Cuddle Parties, and obviously the first thing that came to my debauched mind was that perhaps this is a clever ruse for a gang bang? I mean really, Cuddle Parties? Don't get me wrong, I'm a cuddle fan myself. But to think that there is an organization that specifically plans parties where large groups of strangers get together and cuddle with each other is mildly preposterous-to the say the least. And what's the betting that one of these shindigs won't end up turning in to a gang bang? It seems inevitable to me. All that closeness and rubbing up? I'm telling you, one of these guys is gonna' get a chubby and probably say "Hey it's getting a little hot in here...", and the next thing you know they're all playing "Who's in my mouth?"

I just want to make friends, really. And if it happens to be in a sexy, sweaty and naked environment, all the better!

My Desktop

2009-05-15T02:43:00.003-04:00

I'm very simplistic.

I'm sure you're thinking "Are his folder icons stormtrooper helmets?" Well, you're right. My folder icons are stormtrooper helmets.

Comic is from Three Panel Soul

Dear Mother,

2009-05-10T17:02:00.003-04:00

For the last 14 years, not a day has gone by that I haven't spent wondering what my life would be like if you died.

With more sincerity than you'll ever know,
Your son.

Lets not and say we did

2009-04-27T00:45:00.006-04:00

So this weekend I was supposed to go up to Albany, but ended up not going because as it turns out, a round trip with Amtrak to Albany is a lot more than two white kids and a foreigner are willing to pay for two nights and two mornings worth of heavy drinking in the suburbs. But that's okay, I guess.

Actually, before I get on to this weekend, I should probably talk about last weekend. Friday was a party at Richie's new place for his birthday and housewarming. I don't get out often enough so I managed to convince myself this was worth going out for, especially since I hadn't spoken to him in so long I'm sure he was beginning to think I had gone off to join a renegade band of mercenaries like I always said I would (One day, you just wait). Also, booze. The party itself was pretty fun. For the majority of the night I managed to control my alcohol intake. I didn't want another repeat of New Years night, so I was really trying my best not to drink till I black out. Unfortunately, I didn't factor Beer Pong into my calculations. Apparently, Beer Pong is drinking too. Especially if you play three or four games in a row while drinking straight whiskey on the side (Good times). It was still fun, though. I mean, it's nothing amazing, but if you're drunk and you feel like accentuating your complete lack of coordination, it's one way to pass the time.

Naturally, I woke up the next morning on the couch with a throbbing headache and no idea where I was (I think I see a pattern). I don't remember specifically when it was that I blacked out, but according to Richie it was during my last game of BP. I spent three minutes weaving and waving my arms getting ready for a shot, and managed to flail myself straight down to the ground while releasing the ball mid-fall. Oddly enough I scored, and before letting my head drop to the ground I gave Richie the double guns and surrendered to drunken oblivion.

I'm only really upset about it because it wasn't until after I passed out that all of the hilarious drama took place. I missed: A chick fight, a break-up, and some girl cutting herself with a rusty razor in the bathroom. True story. Apparently even after they got her out and cleaned her up, she went back in and started cutting around the band-aids. What a winner! I really wish I had been awake for that. Mostly so I could have watched all of this unfold while saying things like "Well you know what they say, kill yourself or get off the pot!"

The rest of the weekend I spent recuperating from that one night, because when I woke up Saturday morning it was a nice hot Spring day outside, so my allergies started up and I turned into a walking mucus production plant.

Other crap happened during the week but I'm way too lazy to elaborate on any of it.

Now, like I said, this weekend was supposed to be spent in Albany, but that plan was bunked. So instead I decided I'd just go and spend the weekend at my good friend Mike's. We didn't do much, but hanging out with Mike hasn't changed since we first met in the 7th grade. In fact, that's exactly what we did. We got stoned and reminisced about the 7th grade. Mike really is still the exact same person I met then, and I love that about him. Spending time with him is always really relaxing. Takes me back to a simpler time, ya' know?

Right, so we pretty much just sort of sat around, smoked, and talked about video games and other nerd junk. His father even delighted us with a very special story about how someone apparently kept trying to peep on him at a Barne's and Noble mens room. I told him that it was likely one of the special ed kids they bring in groups on occasion. To which he replied "Oh! That makes sense. Well I guess it's good I didn't start a fight with him. He was a big guy. And if he's retarded it means he's got super strength!" I got a good ten minutes of laughter out of that. Hey, I was stoned. I could have laughed at a plate of onion rings for that long. Why onion rings? I dunno', why not? Get off my back!

He had to leave pretty early this morning to go to Jersey and visit his girlfriend, so I slept in at his place all by myself till around 2 and then headed home. I gotta' say, it's pretty awkward sleeping in alone at someone else's house. Especially with the dog there, walking around.. watching me. Plus I was afraid that 1. I would leave the door open and they would get robbed or 2. Lock the door wrong and lock them out of their apartment. I haven't gotten any angry phone calls yet so I can only assume neither happened. Phew.

So, I came home today, masturbated, ate, showered, and just sort of sat around till later tonight when Richie played his first paid show at Gilbey's, which is a bar if you couldn't figure that out. I went to his place first to meet him and go to the bar with him. While I was there though, I watched some TV for a few minutes with his sister and saw something that set me off. It was some MTV News bullshit, and they were going on about that incident with Travis Barker and some other shmuck who went down and survived that plane crash months and months ago (Seriously, really old news). They switched to some woman to ask her opinion of the accident, and what she said is what really flipped my switch.

I only bothered to listen to her first line, which was "Generally speaking, planes are very dangerous when they're on fire" REALLY? As opposed to what? A house on fire? Yeah, those aren't that dangerous. You just need to sit still. Everyone knows fire can't see you if you're still.

Fuck, seriously? I was under the impression most things were dangerous when on FIRE. I'm so glad I don't watch TV anymore.

Anyway, I sort of paced around and yelled about this for a few minutes and then we picked up a few of his friends and went to the bar. I saw a couple of people I'd met at the party last week and made small talk. Also saw his mother for the first time in a while, and a slightly awkward conversation ensued.

Her: Hey stranger, where have you been?
Me: Oh, around. I like to disappear for periods of time so I can come back with stories to tell.
Her: Oh yeah? So what's new?
Me: ...Absolutely nothing :\

Good times.

Richie's set was pretty great. He's really grown into an impressive musician. I'd heard his songs the week before, so I knew what to expect. But it was still great to see him perform in front of a crowd. He did a bunch of John Mayer covers mixed in with his own stuff. Speaking of which, I've been listening to a ton of John Mayer recently. I'm completely in love with him. I even follow him on twitter!

He didn't respond, but that's okay. He's a busy guy! And I don't really love him more than Kacy, that's just impossible.

Alright, I think that wraps it up. Now, if you'll excuse me I'm going to go drink some more and hopefully wake up in a Chinese Brothel sometime around Thursday afternoon.

Or maybe I'm going to sit around and watch this Friends DVD I have?

"Wait a minute... Am I sexy in Oklahoma?"
-Chandler

On the Matter of Toast

2009-04-17T15:11:00.002-04:00

Video is flipped horizontally because... Idk, my webcam is cross-eyed or something.
<3!

Judge not what I love, but who I am!

2009-04-12T22:17:00.009-04:00

It's not quite a secret, but something a lot of people might not know about is my love for JPop music. As with most things, I can't specifically remember when or how I discovered it, but suffice it to say that I fell in love immediately. I really don't know why, alright? There's just something fun about cutesy Japanese girls dancing around to catchy pop beats. It puts me in a better mood, okay? And yes, I do dance to it. Because sometimes I just need to dance!

Jacob: I think any song called "Chocolate Disco" is relevant to you.
Jacob: In fact, if you were to die and I had control over the arrangements, there would be a very tasteful headstone with that in quotes.
Me: LOL
Jacob: Here lies "CHOCOLATE DISCO"
Jacob: CHOCOLATE DISCO IS DEAD.
________________________________

My mother is visiting till the 21st (Or sometime around that). Now, I'd rather not get in to the complexities behind my relationship - or lack thereof - with my mother. So, regardless of it being the understatement of the year, I'm only going to say that we don't really get along.

She visits yearly now to re-stock on supplies for the beauty parlor she runs in Bangladesh, so she's been mostly busy shopping since she arrived on Thursday, but it took its toll on her last night. She has asthma, so in general over working herself is hazardous, let alone in this cold and windy/rainy weather. Around midnight, while I was on the phone with my dearest, I heard my father outside my door speaking in English, which I immediately found to be alarming as he rarely does that. When I listened in, I realized he was giving our address to someone on the phone. I got out of the room to ask who he was on the phone with when I saw my mother sitting down in the kitchen by the door, red faced and heaving painfully. My father it turns out was on the phone giving directions for an ambulance to come get her, apparently she was having an asthma attack that was getting progressively worse. This wasn't entirely surprising, it happens quite often actually, as she has a habit of stressing and overworking herself over every little thing. If anything, it's nearly routine.

I got off the phone myself, and decided to go outside and wait for the ambulance since I was sure they wouldn't be able to find our house. Our entrance can be hard to spot since it's around the main entrance, which leads to the landlords house. I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but in my neighborhood (Jamaica, Queens), you can hear police sirens in every direction all through the night. And this has been constant since I first moved in over two years ago. On this particular night, I realized the downside to hearing them constantly was that I couldn't tell which ones were coming for me. But, alas, they did come, and my mother was taken to the hospital. Which, as it turns out is only a five minute drive away. Good to know that help is near should I ever be gunned down outside of my house, which I'll have you know is not entirely improbable! I like to prepare myself for the worst.

In any case, the ambulance came and I rode with her to the hospital - my father followed in the car. My father went in with her while I waited in the sitting room, and he eventually came out and said she'll probably be fine but she needs to stay here a while, so he drove me home. I assumed he was only going to drop me off, but when I told him he I'll just get off at the corner and walk, he said he needed to step in for a second as well. So, we go inside and what does he do? Pours himself a glass of whiskey on the rocks, stands in the kitchen and drinks it while smoking a cigarette, and leaves after he finishes. Ah, what a man me father is!

I saw her this morning after she came back and asked how she was, and she merely shrugged. I then asked what the doctor had said, to which she replied "The same shit!" Had a good laugh at that. See? Practically routine. My father even calls the hospital her "second home". A few years ago while I was visiting her and my brother in Bangladesh, she had a similar episode and I had to take her to the hospital myself. We nearly had to take a rickshaw, but luckily our landlord happened to be entering the building with his car, so I asked and he let us use his. What a good son I am, no?
________________________________

On a lighter note, the last thing I want to mention is a big change I've made.

I went out with my parents earlier in the day yesterday, and as they were already buying tons of shit, I was lucky enough to get to add a few items of my own to their shopping list. I don't really shop often, and when I do I don't buy much, so I figured I might as well. I bought some jeans, two t-shirts, and something else I think may have changed my life forever. Girls and boys, I now no longer wear boxers underneath my pantaloons. I have made the shift to, that's right, boxer briefs. I've been considering the shift for a while, really. I just felt I needed more support for my southern gentlemen.

What a great change it is, though! I put them on and thought to myself, "This... This feels nice. This feels right." I'm pretty satisfied. Although, if I had the option, I'd much rather just have someone gently cupping my balls all day.

I want to be; the very best...

2009-04-08T19:56:00.005-04:00

Did I wink at the end of the video? Yes, yes I did, and you loved it.

Happenings

2009-04-04T12:58:00.003-04:00

This picture is awesome.

Jaye spent the week here visiting from California and its been pretty fun. In general I'm a pretty horrible tour guide, though. I'm forgetful and I don't know where anything is even though I've lived here most of my life. We probably would have never made it anywhere if she hadn't had her iPhone to guide us. So, go iPhones, I guess.

We went to Ninja Sushi, and it is by far the single most awesome restaurant in this city. Apparently there's one here in New York, one in Japan, and that's it. It was a pretty fantastic experience overall. I'd give the food a 7.5/10 or so, but everything else from service to presentation was without a doubt 10/10. Oh, and after dessert they have a magician who comes to your table and performs for you. This mother fucker blew my mind. I still don't know how he did what he did, but I got his card so one of these days when I'm up late and drinking, I'm going to call him and make him reveal his sorcery to me. I MUST KNOW.

The rest of the time we visited the usual sites and took in the scenery. I don't think I've walked around the city that much in years, but it was good times for sure. Gonna' miss her, but she'll be back. They all come back. No one can refuse this city.

I need to do some traveling myself. To Tennessee, for instance (<3). But I also want to go abroad. Japan, for sure, and perhaps Peru. My friend Cassandra spent a few months going through the jungles there, and according to her it was an unbelievable experience. I'd love to go to Amsterdam as well, obviously for drugs and prostitutes. I'm not one to get homesick, and I usually adapt pretty well, so I really wouldn't have a problem with spending extended periods of time in foreign lands. Besides, the only place I really like in this country is this city, but I also hate it here a lot of the time. Particularly because it's getting uncomfortably expensive to live here. The public transportation fares just went up, and apparently they might go up again before the summer. I'd get a car, but I feel weird being responsible for that much machine and metal. Maybe I'll get a motorcycle. Ah, whatever, I'll see.

My mother is visiting next week. Not looking forward to that at all.

Rejoice, for I have returned.

2009-03-16T23:22:00.004-04:00

Here's something I wrote in one of my journals, too lazy to retype it. Excuse my mediocre English and terrible handwriting.

______________________________

In other news:

Yes, I do indeed have internet once again. Claiming the last few weeks were Amish would be a stretch, but admittedly it was far enough out of the norm to be difficult. It worries me that we rely on the internet so much. I realize how convenient and necessary it can be, but when considering such things, most people don't seem to take in to account the possibility of its sudden disappearance (ie: South Park S12EP06 - Over Logging). Most people would find it a minor nuisance at first, I'm sure. But I'm convinced that if such a thing occurred and persisted, the results would be catastrophic. Particularly because as a nation I would say we're quite inefficient when it comes to handling disasters. But maybe I'm just being paranoid.

"A paranoid is just someone with all of the facts."
-Spider Jerusalem, Transmetropolitan

The last few weeks haven't been all that bad though, really. Been doing a lot of reading, and I seem to have found my soul mate. Without a doubt one of the most amazing and wonderful individuals I've had the pleasure of meeting in some time. So, cheers to you Kacy. Let's make sweet disco babies till the sun rises. <3

______________________________

My Watchmen review (Minor Spoilers)

I loved it. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. The first time I read the graphic novel, it was a life changing experience. I knew then and there that I wanted to work with comics. This adaptation was definitely well done. The music was excellent, particularly the introduction with "The Times They Are A'changin", and when Rorschach and Niteowl are in Archie over Antartica with "All Along the Watchtower", quite superb, I must say. The imagery as well, was fantastic. The updated costumes were quite appealing and the accuracy in the scenery and backgrounds was considerable, for the most part in any case. The acting, I'd say, was average at best. Some people told me Ozymandias could have been portrayed better, but I didn't have too much trouble with it. Although Carla Gugino could have done a better job at Silk Spectre, in my opinion. Aside from that it was acceptable.

The changes they made to the story itself weren't so bad either. I won't go in to detail, but suffice it to say it made sense and they stayed true to the theme regardless. That bit with Rorschachs flashback about the kidnapper was a little pointless though. I guess they just wanted some added gore for whatever reason.

However, I don't think most people would really be able to enjoy this movie to its fullest. A lot of the back story is hard to figure out unless you've read the graphic novel, so some might find it vague. But for us faithful fans, I'd say this was a great success when compared to other super-hero movies in general (Spiderman 3, sweet fucking christ what a nightmare).

Would definitely watch again, and again, and again.

AFK, BRB, BBS, TTYL, ETC

2009-03-06T15:06:00.002-05:00

No internet, Verizon are a bunch of extortionists. Week or two tops.
Currently have laptop leaning out of window to leech neighbors wireless.

Life without constant access to unlimited information feels surprisingly meager.
There is a lesson to be learned here.
Not sure what it is yet. Tell you when I figure it out.

If I remember to.

Shit, I sneezed and it almost fell.
TOOTLES.

Birds

2009-02-23T02:30:00.009-05:00

Written 6/7/06

I listen now to the sounds around me. Its 4:34 am. In the distance there are birds chirping in erratic intervals. Perhaps I wouldnt refer to them as erratic if I knew the purpose of, or the meaning behind the many chirps. Millions and thousands and hundreds of miniscule droplets of rain scatter across the many surfaces outside, and I wonder briefly if I could discern the sound of one from another. Maybe one day I will. One day when there aren't so many of them.

I place my head in my hands and try desperately to focus my thoughts. Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus... On what?

I consider my options:

Option A would be to go to sleep and attempt to wake up at a reasonable hour. I have things to do later in the day, productive, important, and meaningful things. Thing Ive been putting off for several days now.

Option B would be to stay up and make further attempts to focus and organize my thoughts. On what, I still dont know. But everyone seems to feel thats what I need to do. I need to organize my thoughts. Organize them, categorize them, alphabetize them and put pretty colorful labels on them so I giggle when I shuffle through them.

The chirping in the distance has gotten louder, and the rain has stopped. The birds sound excited. Or rather, I assume they're excited. I don't speak bird, so I really don't know if they're excited or just chirping because they can chirp. It can't be that easily explained for humans. When we speak, we speak for purpose. We speak for desire. We speak for attention. We speak because we have an everlasting goal to use speech and language to communicate our feelings and opinions to ourselves and the rest of the world. And yet still, in most cases, words aren't enough to explain our deepest emotions. Maybe we could explain them more clearly in Bird.

_________

You know what I think when I read through any of my writing?

What the fuck is this? This is mediocre, at best. Step your game up.
And take a shower, you smell terrible.

_________

PS: Blogger is retarded. It keeps fucking up my indentations whenever I try to fix them. Whatever.

"It never ends, this shit"

2009-02-13T05:12:00.001-05:00

Laughed so hard I cried.

Other things

2009-02-09T04:28:00.004-05:00

Last couple posts were total walls of text, so here are a bunch of pictures. Mostly crap I found while going through my photobucket.

First couple are all World of Warcraft related, but you might still find them slightly amusing.

Read the text in purple. Probably my most significant WoW memory. Quoting Star Wars is always pro in my book.

Hello my name is Asif and- OH LOL LOOK A FAT KID!

If I were a superhero, this would be my costume.

Tell me I'm pretty mommy, TELL ME I'M BEAUTIFUL.

As per usual.

HAY LOOK OTHER FUNNY PICTURES.

What do you guys think of my playlist by the way? I recommend you listen to the songs you don't already know, it's good stuff. I figured I'd put it there just for shiggles, give you a taste of what I listen to regularly. It's not permanent, since I know going to a page and having to mute the music off the bat is annoying.

Let's see, this week I'm going to:

Steal markers.
Finish the sketches I have laying around.
Work out, really need to get back into the habit.
Finish reading The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
Get stoned. Man, I haven't done that in a while either.

Here's hoping I get to at least 1 out of 5.

Twenny Figh Mofuggin' Fax

2009-02-05T02:43:00.002-05:00

I think this serves as a pretty thorough introduction to what kind of person I am.

1. I keep a lot of things to myself most of the time. I don't mean I have lots of secrets, I mean there's a lot I don't say. Things that happen, things I feel, things I notice, so on and so forth. I find an odd sense of comfort in knowing that no one really knows everything about me.

2. I've had trouble with socializing since I was first thrust into the world of friendships and relations. At the end of my first day of kindergarten, I cried, ran to my mother, and told her I didn't want to go back. Nowadays, it's just in public settings. I have absolutely no idea how to approach people I don't already know. And when I'm forced into the situation I have a really hard time being myself. It's one of the few things that really bothers me about myself.

3. I have really thin wrists, and I fucking hate it. I'm constantly self conscious about them. It's another of those few things.

4. I abhor religion in all of its forms. I believe mankind as a whole will not evolve until religion is completely abolished. It's how I feel, and it will never change, so don't start with me about it. If there's one thing I hate talking about, it's religious beliefs.

5. I am a seriously a really big Star Wars fan. Not in the material sense, which I'm sure you immediately assume. I don't collect Star Wars branded crap obsessively (Although I wouldn't mind this toaster). My love for Star Wars stems from the story and the story alone. The average persons Star Wars knowledge is restricted to what they've seen in the movies. But what most of you aren't aware of is that there are thousands and thousands of years of history in the Star Wars story line, and I've read through most of it. Sometimes I'll sit down with the Star Wars chronology of events and just read through it over and over as if I were studying for a test. Last year I used to go to Barnes and Noble and sit down, read an entire Star Wars book, and then leave. I did this on a daily basis at some point. Eventually, I'd like to actually purchase them and have a personal collection. That would be the only Star Wars collection I would ever be willing to have.

6. I listen to audio books really often. As much as I love reading, I find narration to be really relaxing. Usually I'll put one on before I sleep, or while I'm doing things like cooking or cleaning (yes I do cook and clean regularly). Specifically though, I love to listen to the Harry Potter audio books, because they are without a doubt my favorite. I've actually met Jim Dale, the narrator for them, in person twice. He's a pretty awesome guy.

7. I daydream constantly. It's been a bad habit of mine since I was really young. I have an over-active imagination, so I often get lost in my thoughts imagining things that will never be. But it's not so bad that I end up having unrealistic expectations. No, my fantasies stay fantasies, and I'll never speak of them. I never have, and I never will. I think for most people, daydreams are generally the most private thoughts.

8. I have a great fondness for food. Most can claim the same, but I'm open minded enough to actually be willing to eat almost all things. Or at least try anything once. Obviously I have my preferences, but the list of what I will eat will always be longer than what I won't. Unlike most food critiques though, I appreciate all tastes. I try not to be too critical about food, because in the end it's completely pointless. Food doesn't really have any other purpose aside from nourishment. The fact that we live in a world with so many options is a considerable luxury that I don't think people really appreciate.

9. I'm impossible to insult. I love insults in general, so I can't be someone that can give and not take. So I've conditioned myself to be so completely apathetic and without pride, that I never take offense. Insulting things/people is one of my favorite pastimes. You might think me a bad person for this, but I really just don't take things seriously. I'd rather put effort into more important things. As I've said before, pride serves no purpose. It's just self glorification. I only act boastful to be ironic, and because it's really funny.

10. I only carry money in amounts that are even, or in multiples of five. I usually ignore change though, this applies only to bills. If I have extra, I either spend it, or fold it and hide it away in a pocket of my wallet.

11. I'm fairly positive that I can consume more spicy food than anyone I know or have ever met. My tolerance for spice is pretty extraordinary. I consume between 3 and 7 whole green peppers with each of my meals while at home. I enjoy it when the food I'm eating is so spicy that my ears start sweating, it's quite fun! But naturally, I get some pretty wicked heartburn sometimes. Totally worth it though.

12. My weakness is cake. You can pretty much get me to do anything if you offer me cake. I seriously love me some fucking cake.

13. My plan B for life is to live as a hermit, isolated on a mountain somewhere. I really wouldn't mind simple living. It would certainly get rid of a lot of the headaches from daily life as a modern member of society.

14. I have a near morbid fear of the ocean. I think it has to do with its vastness and depth. But at the same time, I'm also fascinated with it. The deeper depths of the ocean are the only places mankind hasn't really gotten to. The ecosystems down there are quite amazing. Oh, I also have recurring dreams of floating under water. Not drowning, just floating peacefully. I'm not sure what that's about.

15. I love outer space. The concept of an immeasurable expanse of space, to me, is fantastic, but mind boggling. It's nearly incomprehensible, and I love it. One of my dearest dreams, is that in my lifetime mankind will discover life in outer space. Or that life from outer space will discover us. Yes, this does explain my Star Wars fanaticism.

16. I move around a ton in my sleep. Usually I'll toss and turn for at least an hour or two before I actually fall asleep, and then continue to do so while asleep. I also talk in my sleep regularly, and sleepwalked a few times when I was younger.

17. I have a medical condition called Cluster Headache (I'd recommend you click, it's actually pretty interesting). Having experienced it cyclically since 17, I've been conditioned to deal with pain pretty well. Because I can usually just remind myself that "hey, at least it's not one of my cluster headaches."

18. I really love my best friend Mersiha. She's the only friend I have that has never let me down. There are few things I cherish more than our friendship, and I'm really glad to have met her.

19. I enjoy chaos and disorder in any form. A lot of the time, I'll intentionally contradict myself, just for the hell of it. Like do things I know I won't enjoy, or get myself involved in complicated situations. I take risks for no apparent reason, and put myself in danger intentionally. I don't have a reason aside from just wanting to keep things interesting. It's especially odd, because I'm actually a very calm and calculated person. I never do anything without thinking it through. But every once in a while, I love to piss myself off.

20. I fell asleep when I got to 20. I just woke up, and I'm continuing this now.

21. I can't wait to have kids. The prospect of being a father makes me really excited. I want to prove everyone who thinks I'd fail at it wrong, and show my parents how you're actually supposed to raise a child. I have a ton of resentment as far as my childhood goes.

22. "I used to do drugs. I still do, but I used to too." - Mitch Hedberg. I've done a lot of drugs. I don't do much anymore, aside from casual pot smoking like the rest of the world. I do however plan on taking psychedelics a few more times. Strictly for creative purposes though, I need to for a story I'm writing.

23. I have a habit of being mildly narcissistic. Not in the self-centered douchebag sense, just that I'm oddly vain at times. When I get up in the morning and use the bathroom, I usually spend anywhere between 10 and 20 minutes staring at myself in the mirror doing odd things. I also can't help but look at myself in reflective surfaces, wherever I may find them. Nothing on a Buffalo Bill scale, but there was that one time...

24. There are only two things in the world I would wish for more than anything else; and the first would be freedom. Freedom from everything, as a whole. Freedom from all responsibilities and obligations. Freedom from necessities and luxuries alike. The freedom to be who I am and do what I want wherever, whenever without any consequences whatsoever.

25. The second? I'd like my own love story. Something of really epic proportions, like in a movie or a book. In fact, I might want this more than freedom. I'm secretly a really affectionate person, I just don't have anywhere to put it.

Unfortunate side-effects

2009-02-02T01:12:00.005-05:00

Okay, so I started playing World of Warcraft again. Shututupshutupshutupshutup! Don't judge me. DON'T JUDGE ME. I don't know why I do these things to myself either, okay? I'm a masochist. Whatever. I got really bored and it seemed like a good idea at the time. I'm sure as hell not going to quit now though, it's too late, I've already started leveling this Paladin. Since, you know, Warlocks are failtown now. It's okay though, it's okay. Everything is going to be fine, I'm a pro at this game. I know how to say no, I can handle this. Seriously, I can.

Mostly.

IN OTHER NEWS!
Whenever the people I know start to talk about the same things over and over, I end up ignoring/avoiding them without realizing it. I guess it's my passive aggressive way of letting them know that they're annoying or boring me. I just don't like being told the same fucking things over and over. Especially if it's something really stupid. I also can't stand it when people do nothing but unload their personal problems on me. I don't mind giving advice, but you have to actually ask me to get it. Not just tell me everything that is wrong in your life. Good friend or not, I don't like people who complain constantly about their lives. I know I complain/rant, but it's usually about things and people in the world that are wrong or stupid. When it comes to my personal life, I go out of my way to keep to myself. I've got just as many issues as the next person, and you know what? They're my issues, I'll handle them.

I'm not saying I'm so stubborn I'll never seek help. I'm saying I don't feel the need to burden others with things that are only relevant to me. I'm just sick of hearing about other peoples stupid fucking problems. Especially when it's something completely inane. People don't seem to be able to appreciate their lives anymore, just go on about every little thing that doesn't work out. Hey, guess what? It's going to keep happening. Over and fucking over. The point is to move past it. What's that? You can't? Well then I hope your misery destroys you.

No matter how shitty things get, you should always be aware that there are people out there who have it much, much worse.

EDIT: On MSN with my brother just now.

me 1:50: i uh
me 1:50: started playing WoW again
alvi 1:55: goodbye asif
alvi 1:55: i'll talk to you in a year when ur obese again
me 1:55: ROFL

Also, fuck football.

Ups Downs and All Arounds

2009-01-24T02:16:00.005-05:00

I've had an artistic streak recently. I spent most of the last week sitting at home drawing and listening to music/audio books (yes I listen to audio books, they're fucking awesome).

Started out as a test sketch for a different piece, but I got carried away and ended up finishing it.

Unfinished sketch for my next piece. Yes Aaren, that's your name.

I've also been watching a TON of old TV shows. Specifically Boy Meets World and Sabrina the Teenage Witch. It's been like a YouTube TGIF marathon. SO AWESOME.

In other news

My friends have been kind of letting me down recently. Not in the sense you might think. Four of my friends are now no longer associating with each other, and I'm rather disappointed in them. It's upsetting when people let petty and generally ridiculous things get in the way of friendship. I've done my best to not get involved, but somehow I always end up playing mediator. Probably because I'm one of the only people I know capable of remaining unbiased.
When it comes to the people I associate with, I try hard not to hold anything against anyone. I'm also rarely ever surprised by the things people do, because I just assume anyone is capable of anything. That might seem like cynicism, but if you think about it, it's also optimism. I let people live their lives and make their own mistakes. They need to make their own decisions and learn their own lessons. It's not my job to make sure everyone goes down the right path. I guess I just got tired of no one ever taking my advice. People will always do what they want in the end, and the best you can do is hope they learn their lesson.

PS: I'll have another Speed Art video up this weekend probably ;)

The News, sort of.

2009-01-16T03:46:00.015-05:00

Airplane Crashes Into Hudson

No casualties? Really? Pfft, that’s lame. It’s not interesting unless at least a couple of people die. What is interesting, however, is the cause of the crash-landing: Birds. I think we need to be a little more aware of what our cities birds are up to. Clearly they’re fucking plotting against us. Any native New Yorker knows that we have the ballsiest birds on the fucking planet. Our pigeons will fuck you up. The only other person to blame would be this guy:

Airline Safety

Way to fucking jinx it, guy. Seriously! What an asshole!

Zoo Statues Not Buddha’s

All right, first of all, Lama Chuck Stanford? Are you kidding me in my balls?
“...Man complained to a zoo employee that the statues, which he identified as depictions of Buddha, offended him as a Christian”. I’ll bet this cocksucker has plenty of Jesus paraphernalia in his fucking house. What would he have to say if someone who visited him found all that nonsense offensive? Perhaps he would tell them they’re being intolerant? OH WAIT.

Peru court rules city was wrong to fire drunken maid.

A-fucking-men! She’s a goddamned maid, for fucks sake. In Peru! Her life can’t get any shittier. She should definitely be allowed to drink on the job. I’m with the Peru Court on this. If you can’t drink while you’re at work, what’s the point, really?

Sculpture touching down after sign posted.

I don’t understand what impulse it is people have to touch art. I’d understand if it had some particularly interesting texture, but it’s a statue of a fucking janitor. You wouldn’t go up to a real janitor and start touching his face and shit, would you? No, you wouldn’t. You’d get herpes or something. “DeYoung says that over the years, museum visitors have walked off with the janitor’s pens, wristwatch, and a pipe kept in his pocket.” What kind of life are you leading when you’re stealing from inanimate objects? People like this should be fucking euthanized.

55 Beers that will knock you flat on your ass

This isn’t necessarily news, but it’s sure as hell relevant to my interests. CHEERS, MOTHER FUCKERS.

Florida Girl had over 35,463 Texts in one month

All right, I’ve had about of enough of this text message bullshit. It’s gotten to the point where it’s nearly a fucking epidemic. I won’t deny that I do text myself, but that’s only because people won’t pick up their fucking phones. I enjoy having conversations with people. Especially when it’s spoken aloud. To think that we’ve come upon an age where people don’t even want to listen to each other’s voices is fucking appalling. The only people who should really enjoy or appreciate text messaging are DEAF PEOPLE. You know, because they’re fucking deaf. Not brain dead high school girls who you can’t get a point across to unless it’s wrtn lk dis lol! I hope her fucking thumbs fall off. And then the rest of her appendages.

Man kills self with plastic knife, NJ ordered to pay family $600,000

While they’re at it, why don’t they sue the plastic utensil/appliance companies? You know if you shove a plastic cup down someone’s esophagus, I bet they would probably die. He managed to escape from the institute though, maybe he wasn’t that crazy after all? “Janicki was found not guilty by reason of insanity after killing his father in 2002 with a samurai sword. He claimed voices told him he should save his mother.” That sounds like good intentions to me. I think they might be overreacting a little.

Student, 15, charged in brownie theft

First the pies from our windowsills, and now this? What kind of country are we living in if even our delicious treats aren't safe? While they’re on it, they should definitely look into who stole the cookie from the cookie jar. These crimes should not go unpunished, god damn it!

American Idol sues Texas strip joint.

I think American Idol should really take something from this. Specifically strippers. Admittedly, I haven’t watched American Idol since its first season, but that’s mostly because I don’t feel like watching people who have no talent prove on television that they have no talent. I’d rather watch a paraplegic dance-off. But if American Idol suddenly had more strippers involved, you bet your ass I’d watch.

Two Headed fish likely caused by toxic water

What do you mean likely caused by toxic water? Am I the only one who watched The Simpsons? What the fuck else could have caused it? You see when two fish love each other very much… OF COURSE IT WAS CAUSED BY TOXIC WATER. Either that or there’s a mad scientist loose somewhere nearby.

Conversations with others.

2009-01-14T00:36:00.002-05:00

I lack the energy to actually go off on a real rant, so instead I'll post this, which is close.

4:48:50 AM Asif: earlier
4:48:55 AM Asif: when i was going through craigslist
4:49:07 AM Asif: there are always those fat black chicks
4:49:11 AM Asif: that refer to themselves as SEXY
4:49:14 AM Asif: and i said to cris
4:49:15 AM Asif: man
4:49:26 AM Asif: fat people calling themselves sexy
4:49:29 AM Asif: should be a criminal offense
4:49:37 AM Asif: "eye of the beholder" has its limits, you fucking whales
4:49:39 AM Asif: MAN THE HARPOONS.
4:49:46 AM Mersiha: LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
4:50:51 AM Asif: lol
4:50:58 AM Asif: seriously though
4:51:04 AM Mersiha: yeah I completely agree
4:51:06 AM Asif: fat is not sexy
4:51:08 AM Asif: not even slightly
4:51:10 AM Mersiha: fat black chicks always think they're sexy
4:51:14 AM Asif: chubby can sometimes pull it off
4:51:15 AM Asif: a little.
4:51:16 AM Asif: but
4:51:18 AM Asif: when you're fat
4:51:20 AM Asif: you're fucking fat
4:51:22 AM Asif: fix it, okay
4:51:23 AM Asif: fix it
4:51:24 AM Asif: it's not pleasing
4:51:25 AM Asif: at all.
4:51:43 AM Mersiha: LMFAOOOO
4:52:00 AM Asif: people don't seem to realize
4:52:01 AM Asif: that being fat
4:52:03 AM Asif: is a fucking problem
4:52:09 AM Asif: no, it's not a lifestyle choice
4:52:16 AM Asif: it means you have a fucking problem.
4:52:24 AM Mersiha: yes I know
4:52:27 AM Asif: a problem that could kill you.
4:52:31 AM Asif: and i sincerely hope it does.
4:52:36 AM Mersiha: ROFL!!!
4:53:01 AM Asif: i should save this and post it on blogger.
4:53:45 AM Mersiha: Ha!! That's cruel. I like it.
4:53:50 AM Asif: lmao
4:54:22 AM Mersiha: I really want something tasty right now
4:54:33 AM Asif: i want to go get a bowl of cereal
4:54:34 AM Asif: but like
4:54:36 AM Asif: for some reason
4:54:39 AM Asif: my lactose intolerance
4:54:45 AM Asif: went from slight to fucking hazardous
4:55:51 AM Mersiha: oh sheet
4:56:04 AM Mersiha: cereal at 5 am is normal right?
4:56:07 AM Mersiha: for normal people?
4:56:11 AM Asif: it's cereal
4:56:15 AM Mersiha: is that what time they wake up?
4:56:15 AM Asif: it's normal at any hour, pretty much
4:56:16 AM Mersiha: lol
4:56:20 AM Asif: could be on the fucking moon
4:56:21 AM Mersiha: yeah I agree
4:56:22 AM Asif: floating
4:56:23 AM Mersiha: I love cereal
4:56:25 AM Asif: with some aliens
4:56:28 AM Asif: i bet they'd want some cereal
4:56:28 AM Mersiha: LMFAOOO
4:56:36 AM Asif: "dude i could TOTALLY go for some cereal"
4:56:46 AM Mersiha: ah, now I want cereal
4:56:46 AM Asif: "yeah man i am fucking feenin for some rice krispies"
4:56:50 AM Mersiha: ................
4:56:55 AM Mersiha: I FUCKING LOVE RICE KRISPIES
4:56:57 AM Mersiha: NOMNOMONMO
4:56:59 AM Mersiha: my favorite.
4:56:59 AM Asif: AHAHA
4:57:06 AM Asif: i used to put
4:57:09 AM Asif: chocolate powder
4:57:13 AM Asif: in the rice krispies
4:57:19 AM Asif: so it was chocolate rice krispies
4:57:30 AM Asif: but i think they already have a chocolate flavor for it now
4:57:31 AM Asif: back then they didn't
4:57:38 AM Asif: i practically invented it, really
4:58:06 AM Mersiha: ew!
4:58:13 AM Asif: ew?
4:58:16 AM Asif: shut your fucking mouth
4:58:21 AM Asif: it's CHOCOLATE.
4:58:33 AM Mersiha: I DON'T LIKE CHOCOLATE IN MY FUCKING CEREAL
4:58:39 AM Asif: THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH OU
4:58:40 AM Mersiha: LEAVE MY CEREAL ALONE, CHOCOLATE!
4:58:41 AM Asif: YOU*
4:58:45 AM Asif: the cereal i have now
4:58:54 AM Mersiha: cocoa puffs?
4:58:57 AM Asif: is special K chocolate delight
4:59:00 AM Asif: it's special K
4:59:01 AM Asif: with fucking
4:59:04 AM Asif: candy bar bits in it
4:59:06 AM Asif: CANDY BAR BITS
4:59:08 AM Mersiha: W...T....F.....
4:59:09 AM Mersiha: WTF!!!
4:59:11 AM Asif: IT IS SO GOD DAMNED DELICIOUS
4:59:15 AM Mersiha: I love special k
4:59:16 AM Mersiha: but wtf?!!?
4:59:22 AM Asif: IT'S LIKE THIRTY BILLION ORGASMS IN MY MOUTH
4:59:23 AM Mersiha: they're ruining our society!
4:59:23 AM Asif: OKAY
4:59:28 AM Asif: YOU SHUT YOUR GOD DAMNED MOUTH
4:59:35 AM Mersiha: with their fucking chocolately goodness
4:59:38 AM Mersiha: GAHHHH
4:59:57 AM Mersiha: brb getting some cornflakes
4:59:57 AM Asif: if it wouldn't make me shit furiously for hours
5:00:00 AM Asif: i would have some right now
5:00:07 AM Mersiha: rofl

5:20:21 AM Asif: you know what's been pissing me off lately?
5:20:31 AM Mersiha: please do tell
5:20:31 AM Mersiha: lol
5:20:37 AM Asif: these fucking morons
5:20:41 AM Asif: updating their facebook status
5:20:48 AM Asif: with that death toll shit about palestinians
5:20:51 AM Asif: what the fuck is this
5:20:55 AM Mersiha: oh yeah!
5:21:11 AM Asif: you're not a fucking pacifist because you put some shit up on your facebook status, okay
5:21:25 AM Asif: donate my status?
5:21:31 AM Asif: what the fuck will that do?
5:21:39 AM Asif: my status won't stop bombs from exploding.
5:21:44 AM Asif: will they?
5:21:45 AM Asif: NO.
5:22:08 AM Asif: i really doubt the Israeli military commanders are on facebook
5:22:12 AM Asif: checking our status updates
5:22:17 AM Mersiha: LMFAO!!!!!
5:22:20 AM Asif: "shit guys, there's a lot of them updating, idk if we should keep going"
5:22:21 AM Mersiha: touche!
5:22:23 AM Asif: NO, THAT"S NOT HAPPENING.
5:22:30 AM Mersiha: LOL
5:23:18 AM Asif: It's my sincere hope that both Israel and Palestine blow the shit out of each other.
5:23:25 AM Asif: Maybe after all those millions are dead.
5:23:33 AM Asif: Someone will have learned a lesson.
5:23:40 AM Mersiha: meh, I don't give a shit about what anyone does
5:23:54 AM Asif: And we can do something constructive with that land they've been fighting over for who cares how long now.
5:24:19 AM Mersiha: can we really?
5:24:29 AM Mersiha: is there oil in that ground?
5:24:32 AM Mersiha: diamonds in the rough?
5:24:39 AM Mersiha: ANYTHING WE MIGHT NEED?
5:24:48 AM Asif: Well I'm sure if they're all dead that land will end up on ebay or something, idk. Someone will have to claim it.
5:24:57 AM Mersiha: HAHAA

Speed Art #1

2009-01-10T01:37:00.003-05:00

Last night I was trying to think of things to blog about, and I thought I'd draw something and post a slide-show of the process. Then I thought, "fuck that, I'll make a video!", but I realized that it would be a really long video. And then I remembered speedart, and decided to go with that. It's kind of half assed since I've never done anything like this before, but I hope you like it.

Comics, Alcoholism, and Boredom (Not necessarily in that order)

2009-01-06T00:18:00.014-05:00

"You haven't updated your blog in centuries. I think you need to start drinking and start typing."

-Mersiha, not too long ago.

At this point, I've mostly recovered from New Years Eve. And I have definitely learned my lesson about Tequila. I’ve also noticed that whenever a person decides they want to start drinking Tequila, there's always that one other person who has a horrible story involving excessive consumption of it, and a lack of complete memory thereafter. It certainly wasn't any different for me. Hell, three people told me that it was probably a bad idea. Did I listen? Of course fucking not. I underestimated this god-forsaken drink and suffered for it. I have zero recollection of that night, and that makes three years in a row. Go me, I guess. I'm on a fuckin' roll!

I’ve been obscenely bored these last few days. It’s not even because I don’t have things to do. No, there are plenty of things I could do, or that I should be doing. But I’m back in that state of mind where I find myself incapable of mustering the motivation to take care of even mundane tasks. It’s stupid, really. I need to get the fuck over myself.

My father certainly seems to be keeping himself entertained these days. He recently bought a new computer, and I taught him how to find and watch movies on the Internet. So now he spends the majority of his time at home smoking cigarettes and watching Indian movies online. Which is great, really. The more distracted he is, the happier I am.

I had an odd conversation with my landlord this morning about him. He had called me to remind my father about the rent.

Him: Did you speak to your father?
Me: Yeah. I told him, and then I went back to sleep. When I woke up he was gone though.
Him: Oh okay. He’s leaving on Thursday isn’t he?
Me: What?
Him: His flight to Bangladesh is on Thursday, right?
Me: Oh, uh… Maybe? I don’t know…
Him: Okay. Well I’ll speak to him later then.

I knew my father was planning on going, but I didn’t really think it would be this soon. I figure it could be one of two things: He’s either lying about it to the landlord, or simply didn’t bother mentioning it to me because he’s forgetful. When considering my father, both are likely. I’m not going to bother asking him about it though. He’ll tell me when he feels like it. When I was younger my parents would often plan and execute a change of location and only tell us to start packing the day before. So like I said, it’s not surprising.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I’ve been trying to get some drawing in recently. More often then not I just pick up my sketchbook and debate for several hours about whether or not I feel like drawing. But I’ve managed to get back into the habit of sketching and writing down ideas for things to draw. Supposedly I have potential. (Left: Did that a little earlier. Ten points if you know what it is or where it’s from)

My real passion in that area though, is comics. I fuckin’ love me some comics. I might not own or purchase them often, but sometimes I’ll sit down at a Barne’s and Noble and go through four, five, maybe even nine volumes before I leave. In fact, I downloaded and read through nearly 9 gigabytes of Star Wars comics. That’s right, I’m a fucking super-geek. Damn proud of it, too.

Naturally, my dream is to eventually write for comics. I think I’d be pretty good at it, don’t you? I’ve certainly got a lot of interesting ideas I’d like to expand on. A webcomic is what I’d like to start with. My friend Darlene and I made one back in high school, but it was mostly random nonsense I came up with. Hilarious random nonsense, I might add. She mentioned recently that she’d be up for starting another one, so I think I’ll definitely take her up on that. It would certainly give me something a little more productive to do with my time. (Right: I did a lot of drugs in high school)

Either that or I could get a job. But if I had to choose between thinking up funny shit or working, I think we know quite well which path I’d choose.

Totally Awesome Sweet Alabama Liquid Snake

2008-12-31T16:01:00.015-05:00

Been bored all day so far so I finally picked up my sketchbook and tried something. Looks like I still got a little graffiti spice left in me. AR7 ARS-ONE representin' H.S.T. and E.C.K. ya heard?

Just kidding. My affiliations with graffiti crews are long gone. Still miss some of those guys though. Quite a buncha' characters they were.

My sleep schedule is officially fucking daffy. I stayed up the day before yesterday through yesterday and spent most of the day with Richie doing our usual thing. Driving around all day while shenanigans ensued. It's been our routine since earlier in the year.

Him: There's no "I" in teamwork you know.
Me: There is if you spell it wrong. TIIIMWERK!

It's tobacco, it's tobacco. Relax. It's a lot cheaper to just buy a bag of tobacco and roll them to smoke now. A bag is $5 and a pack of rolling paper is $1. As opposed to buying a pack of cigarettes anywhere from $8 to $10. I think it's less harmful, too. Don't quote me on that though.

Got some caffeine pills and rum in me later in the night and more shenanigans took place. We have some pretty interesting conversations while driving around. Of course most of the time it really is just bullshitting while he endangers both our lives with his reckless driving and I joke about it continually. I call it suicide by association.

Him: Oh uh, I should probably let you know. There's vodka in that bottle of lemonade.
Me: Can I have some?
Him: Er, sure... But most people would care if their driver was drinking, you know.
Me: Most people are fucking pussies. *glug*

Call us crazy or stupid if you want, but we're probably still cooler than most people. It's only when you disregard personal safety that you're bound to have a fucking blast in my opinion.

It was still a little different though; driving around like old times. It's been a while since we've done that. Earlier in the year we did that shit on a daily basis. Fun times had by all, I assure you. I spent most of the day remembering all the other times we'd hung out, and then that lead to reminiscing about the whole year in general. Cliche, I know. But it couldn't be helped, considering the timing and all.

Me: Mike mentioned something about your cooking earlier. Tells me you make a mean clam sauce.
Him: Oh dude, you have GOT to have my clam sauce.
Me: Oh yes. I DO want your clam sauce. All over my faaaaaace!
Him: ...Gross.

Things certainly have shifted this year. I've gone through three jobs and am now looking again, for starters. I went from working out three hours a day to getting out of bed at 6pm and then getting a whole load of blow in me before I go out and kill hookers and sodomize senior citizens. Just kidding, I don't kill hookers, that's not right. The world needs hookers.

I spent three sick and dramatic months in Bangladesh for summer, but it was still good to spend time with my brother. I was also in a pseudo-relationship for a large portion of the year, was even in love! And then that ended horribly. But that's also fine, because by now it's a yearly routine. No biggies. I'm long past the point where failed relationships and girl trouble are enough to get me down. Fuck that noise.

I remember I went into 2007 so baked I didn't realize it till several hours later. And I came into 2008 taking turns puking with a friend in my bathroom.

Her: Dude, your puking is ridiculously intense.
Me: Really?
Her: Yeah! Like a desert sand monster or something!
Me: I puke like a Sarlacc? AWESOME.

I'm just hoping this year I'll be sober enough to be aware of the year changing. And as for resolutions? Fuck 'em. I'll do what I do when I do it. And if I don't, it probably wasn't worth doing anyway.

Happy New Years folks. Make sure you get as crunk as possible tonight, because I know I will.

Me Brudder

2008-12-28T02:40:00.005-05:00

Nothing important to blog about right now, but I felt like making a post anyway. So I'll post about my brother. Why? Because:

1. I wish I was stoned right now.
2. If he were here we'd be stoned right now.

He lives in Bangladesh with my mother. I see him during the summer and we usually spend the majority of that time doing ridiculous shit. Good times. I kinda' miss him, so here are a bunch of pictures. I'm sure you'll find them as amusing as I do.

It's sometime in the afternoon right now in Bangladesh.
I'll bet he's fucking stoned right now, that bastard.

Oh also, here's a video he made of me talking in my sleep. Not going to bother editing it but when he's speaking in Bangla he's asking me "LOLOL What's everyone doing asif? What's everyone doing?" No idea what I was actually saying before he decided to grab the camera.

Posters and Dreams

2008-12-24T19:48:00.009-05:00

I watched Gonzo the other night. Completely forgot it had even been released. It's a movie about the life and work of Hunter S. Thompson. He is without a doubt my favorite writer of all time, and watching this movie was an enlightening experience. I was considerably inspired, so I've decided to write my own piece on The American Dream as a tribute to him. Perhaps I'll post it here when it's finished.

Speaking of dreams, I've had some rather unsettling ones recently. Last night's in particular was rather distressing. There was a Polish girl in high school I was rather taken with for quite some time. I never got to know her all too well as we never spent much time together. Plus all the fucking Polish kids refused to hang out with anyone but other Polish kids. Anyway, her name was Paulina and I could have sworn she had a thing for me as well, but for some reason we never ended up together. God I was such an awkward fuck in high school. And after high school finished we never managed to keep in contact.

But right, the dream last night. Jesus, what a trip that was. We're together in my room and we're kissing quite passionately on my bed. We get undressed and she tells me to put a condom on. As I'm about to though, she stops me. "Wait" she says, "I need to tell you something". My luck with women is fail-town even in dreams, apparently. She goes on to tell me that she had an argument with Pat earlier and she couldn't stop thinking about him. She's in love with him and she doesn't know if she can do this. Pat is my best friends boyfriend. Now, here's where it gets odd. After she tells me this, I break down in tears and start muttering "Not you too, not you too" to myself over and over. She holds me close to her and we cry together on my bed. Oh also, she had a penis. It didn't really seem to bother me at the time. But, there you have it.

There are of course plenty of different interpretations. None of which I'll bother to go into. Suffice it to say that my subconsciousness has a habit of sending me mixed messages. I don't remember the other dream I had too well. The only thing I remember clearly is that there were pigs sitting upright at a table eating other pigs. It wasn't even in a home or at a restaurant. It was in a junk yard, I think. I remember it was rather dirty and there were a lot of broken car parts around. Not sure what to make of that one. Oh well.

But on a less horrifying note, I bought some new posters. I have quite a few all around my room, as I liked to keep my eyes occupied while I'm lazing about. Hi-ho pictures.

This one is on the outside of my door. Dad loves it. Especially with all the Fuck written all over it.

Two more fantastic movies I highly recommend.

My heroes. Some of them literally. Green Lantern and Bob Dylan are new.

Also new. Had to get this one the second I saw it at the Virgin in Union Square. Especially after watching Gonzo.

Old, but definitely one of my favorites. Love having it above me whenever I'm at my desk.

Side note:

Fuck Christmas.
Happy Holidays you zombie consumer assholes!
<3

Surveyism

2008-12-22T04:14:00.002-05:00

Internet surveys are one way to get to know someone better. Especially when they reply with excessive sarcasm.

1) Are your parents married or divorced?
Married and miserable.

2) Vegetarian?
No thank you. I need to consume flesh.

3) Heaven?
I find gated communities to be a little boring.

4) Come close to dying?
Once this summer when I accidentally overdosed. I can't read medicinal labels properly. Especially when I'm delirious and they're in Bengali.

5) What jewelry do you wear 24/7?
If I could I would wear the teeth of conquered playmates from when I was younger.

6) Are you eating?
Yes I find it helps me maintain homeostasis. Especially cake.

7) Do you eat the stems of broccoli?
Hell yes. People who don't are stupid, don't waste food, asshole.

8) Makeup?
I've been told I make a very convincing transvestite. Big full lips and all, you know.

9) Were you the dumper or the dumpee in your past relationship?
Dumper.

10) Would you ever have plastic surgery?
Depends on whether or not it gets cheaper. It's really just a more advanced form of Photoshopping, you know.

11) What do you wear to bed?
Whatever I have on when I'm tired enough to want to fall asleep. But usually just boxers.

12) Have you ever done anything illegal?
Yes. In fact I make it a point to break the law as often as I possibly can.

13) Can you roll your tongue?
I didn't think I could, but I just tried and apparently I can.

14) Tweeze your eyebrows?
No my eyebrows are quite impeccable as they are.

15) What kind of watch(es)?
I wore the same watch for six years and then it broke. Now I'm not too sure if I should get a new one or not. I don't really like most watches.

16) Abortion?
Or I could punch her in the stomach a few times. Man that's terrible. Alright, it's not for me to decide. Pro choice yadda yadda.

17) Hair color?
Black.

18) Future child's name?
Dmitri Altair Bazlu.

19) Do you snore?
No, but I talk in my sleep. A lot.

20) If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?
A deserted island with internet. So I can write several novels.

21) Do you sleep with stuffed animals?
Niet.

22) If you won the lottery, what would you do first?
Masturbate furiously.

23) Gold or silver?
Silver, I guess.

24) Hamburger or hot dog?
Both, at the same time. I'm a glutton.

25) If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?
Human flesh.

26.) City, beach or country?
I FEAR THE OUTSIDE WORLD.

27) What was the last thing you touched?
My balls.

28) Where do you eat dinner?
On my desk in front of my laptop.

29) When's the last time you cried
Sometime over the summer I think.

30) Do you read blogs?
...Yes.

31) Would you ever go out dressed like the opposite sex?
Only on the weekends.

32) Ever been involved with the police?
I'm smarter than that.

33) What's your favourite shampoo/conditioner and soap?
I bathe myself with the tears of others.

34) Do you talk in your sleep?
Yes, a lot, actually.

35) Ocean or pool?
Water is for suckers.

36)What's your favorite song at the moment?
The Beatles - I'm Only Sleeping

37) what's your favorite color?
Green.

38) Window seat or aisle?
Window, i need mah sleeps.

39) Ever met any famous bands/singers?
I met Method Man and Red Man once. They were stoned, so I doubt they remember.

40) Do you feel that you've ever had a truly successful relationship?
Well I'm single now, so...no.

41) Do you twirl your spaghetti or cut it?
Twirl it. Nazi's cut their spaghetti.

42) Rickie Lake or Oprah Winfrey?
Jerry Springer.

43) Basketball or Football?
*wheeze*

44) How long do your showers last?
Depends on who's crying.

45) Do you drive a stick?
I think I can, yeah.

46) Cake or ice cream?
Ice cream cake, asshole.

47) Self-conscious?
Some times.

49) Have you ever given money to a bum?
Not that I can recall.

50. When was your first crush?
No bloody clue.

51) Where do you wish you were?
In the bathroom.

52) Have you ever broken someone's heart?
I think once, I'm not sure. She said she wanted to kill herself so I decided I'd have to stop associating with her to not be a prime suspect.

53) Have you ever rode in an ambulance?
Nope.

54) can you tango?
It takes two.

55) Last gift you received?
I don't get gifts. I don't give them often either.

56) Last sport you played?
Soccer?

57). Things you spend a lot of money on?
Food.

58) Where do you live?
Queens, New York.

60) Last wedding attended?
Don't even remember.

61) Favorite fast food restaurant?
Wendy's. Mm..Baconator.

62) Where do you work?
At your mom's.

63) Most hated food?
Not sure.

65) Can you sing?
Not really, no.

66) Last IM?
Too long ago to recall, but I bet it was something racist.

67) what's your least fav. chore?
Picking cotton.

68) Favorite drink?
Whiskey.

69) Current Crush?
I'm crushing your balls.

Urban Art Assault

2008-12-19T03:27:00.011-05:00

Graffiti is one of New York City’s most definitive traits. It’s also the most noticeable. No matter where in the city you are, you’re bound to find a few tags written somewhere. Be it scrawled in plain sight on a city wall or hidden away within the depths of the city’s subway tunnels, Graffiti in this city is a visual inevitability.

Back in high school I went through an obsession with it myself. I don’t remember how it started exactly, but before I knew it I’d gotten a hold of some markers and was writing my “tag” all over the school. Eventually of course I was caught and suspended, but that didn’t do much to stop me from continuing. (That's my brother on the left)

Once I got out there and experienced first hand the risks involved with Graffiti though, I realized I wasn’t really up to the task. It didn’t seem worth it, I guess. So I quit altogether. But I still hold Graffiti Writers in fairly high regard, as some of them are considerably skilled artists. They’re also some of the ballsiest motherfuckers I’ve ever met.

As misguided and potentially disastrous their lifestyles and beliefs with Graffiti may be, I understand why it is they do what they do. To a lot of them it’s a matter of public expression. With others it gets to be more territorial than that. But overall they do it because they want to leave their mark for others to remember.

There are still plenty who argue against it, though. There always will be. It’s a matter of perspective. And from my perspective, Graffiti gives this city a lot of its character, regardless of how low it might make property value. A few scribbles on a wall aren’t enough to make me feel less at home. I’d be more curious as to who drew them, and why.

Side Note:

Since I'm going nuts with pictures here, I'll post one more. On the right here is a drink called All City NRG, a new energy drink by Arizona. I think it's funny that they use that specific title for the drink. Among Graffiti writers, the term All City means you have at least a number of tags in all five of New York City's buroughs. A lot of writers go considerably out of their way to get to being "All City". And now it's a rather shitty energy drink. It's ironic, really. And hilarious.

Cigarettes and Defects

2008-12-12T21:34:00.002-05:00

So. Today I sit at home and eat grapes, after getting out of bed at 6pm. I’ve been meaning to ask my dad for a pack of cigarettes since I know he has millions. But I can never get up the nerve. It’s always been an awkward subject, smoking and drinking. I know he knows I drink his liquor, since he’s asked me about it before. And I’m fairly sure he knows I smoke on occasion as well. But no matter how hard I may try (which isn’t that hard at all, really) I can never seem to get the nerve to talk to him about any of it. There are few people I know that I respect as much as my father, regardless of how flawed his raising of me was. So naturally I still have some hang-ups about what I can and can’t talk to him about.
My father is an amazing individual. He’s traveled the world and experienced most of what there is to experience. It’s only because of his own personal flaws that he isn’t leading the life I’m sure he thought he’d be leading. He’s considerably arrogant, for one thing. And he has a lot more pride than anyone should have. Personally, I’ve never believed in defending my pride. It serves no practical purpose. Pride is really just an imaginary sense of self-worth.
But he’s still an amazing man none-the-less. He speaks four or five languages, including fluent German oddly enough. He’s lived in Bangladesh, India, Germany, Britain, Egypt, and America. By the age of eleven he could take apart and re-assemble a motorcycle. He’s also been smoking since he was 14 and been drinking and driving since 1972 without being caught. Impressive, I know.
I love my father. And even though I’ve never heard him utter those words to me, I know he feels the same way. I know that subconsciously, I’ve been trying to please him all my life.

Now all I have to do is figure out where he’s hiding all the goddamned cigarettes I know he has.

PS: I made a note to myself the other day before I got drunk and buzzed off all my hair. I think it's funny.

It reads:
Every time I hear or read the word Fandango, the first thing that comes to mind is Mandingo. If I ever saw him in person, I’d ask for an autograph. I mean come on. The man was given a gift. And with his gift he has changed the world, kinda’. He’s impressive regardless. I’m sure his parents are proud of him.

[If you don’t know who Mandingo is, google him. I’m sure you’ll be impressed as well]

Seriously Serious

2008-12-10T16:30:00.005-05:00

I would like to take the time to address a very fucking serious issue.

I'm aware that it's been a popular activity for quite some time to sit in cafe's and take care of varying literary tasks. Whether you're an accomplished writer working on a new novel or just an angry teenager writing in your journal about how much of your mothers heroin you shot up in the bathroom, this has been a pastime for numerous individuals as long as cafe's have been around.

It's often I find myself with oodles and oodles of free time so I take part in this myself occasionally. I have things I like to write and I like to do it in busy places for the sake of inspiration. When I try to do these things at home I don't quite feel it, if that makes any sense. I don't even use the internet, because I'm sure as hell not going to pay to sit there and browse idly on the internet. I pay to do that at home, where it's comfortable and there aren't bystanders to be offended by the terrible shit I'm likely to be looking up. Or my nudity.

In any case, in the last few years I've noticed that this particular pastime is now a ridiculous fucking trend. Hipsters, yuppies, and plenty of others are seen in Starbucks and similar establishments all over America sitting on their laptops doing completely inane shit. At times for hours on end. Browsing the internet idly, chatting with their friends (sometimes sitting right fucking across from them) and god knows what other useless crap. It's one thing to do this at an internet cafe, because that's exactly what you're fucking supposed to be doing there. But in other places, this is just bull shit really.

But okay, fine. People can do what they want with their time. And normally, I really don't give that much of a shit. Obviously I give some shit, because it does bother me to some degree. And when things bother you, you give a shit. But today I have seen the peak of this mountain of useless nonsense.

I once again found myself unable to be home but with free time today, so I decided to go to my usual Barnes and Noble to get a few red bulls in me and organize some of my notes. As I sat there, I noticed a man walk into the cafe area carrying two rather large backpacks. He's white, middle aged, and rather portly. All he has on are a pair of sweats and a yellow t-shirt, both of which seem to not have been washed in some time. What happens next is probably one of the most ridiculous things I've seen in a while.

This... guy sits down at a table that seats four and proceeds to unload from his backpacks: 2 laptops, power cables for both, a corded mouse for one, an extension cord, and a surge protector. Naturally, I am completely fucking appalled. You could make the argument that this guy obviously does something important, and clearly has a lot of fucking work to do. But isn't this shit usually done in an office? Maybe he works out of home, you say? Well then why the fuck isn't he at home? He certainly appears to be dressed for that particular occasion.

He sets up all of his gear and turns both laptops on. I'm expecting him to load up spread sheets and see numbers and text and whatever the fuck else might look complex and important at a glance. But no, that's not what he does. He loads up a browser on one, and several instant messenger programs on the other, and then proceeds to be a waste of fucking space.

He didn't even buy anything from the shop.

I always make sure to at least buy something to drink so they don't bother me about using the tables if I'm not getting anything. Because there is a rather large sign that explicitly states: CAFE TABLES ARE FOR CUSTOMERS ONLY. On this occasion I've bought several red bulls and a piece of cheesecake for my fat ass. Him? Nothing. No coffee, no water, no delicious cake or pastry for his fat ass.

Seriously? Did he claim this as his office space? Does he pay rent for that table? It's two in the fucking afternoon, and he is here, doing this? Does he really not have a fucking home to go to? This would at least be slightly expected from some yuppie fucker with his macbooks. But that's not the case. With this guy, it just raises alarming questions about his lifestyle. They're not even good laptops. They're old, and look to be running rather shittily. If you think I'm just picking on the guy, he even took an extra chair to put a plate with a cup of water on. Can you honestly tell me this isn't bull shit?

You know how you deal with people like this? You tie him with his fucking cables and then take a shit on both of his keyboards. Then, close both laptops and beat him to death with them.

But no, I won't do that. I can't do that. I'm not allowed to. (Also he's a lot fucking bigger than me). I did the only sensible thing I really could do, and that was tell an employee that there's a fat fuck taking up a lot of space with bull shit. So they told him to buy something or move. So he bought something and stayed there, while I left, disgusted.

I don't even know what else to say about this. But I am glad I can rant obscenely about things that piss me off on the internet, instead of confronting the issues in real life. I'll always have that.