Friday, December 24, 2004

So i'm off to Hong Kizzong for about 10 days. I shall be back and let you all in on my debaucherous time.

Thursday, December 23, 2004

99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer... why the fuck is there beer on the wall and not in the fridge?

So I drank today, and it was good. Usually when i drink its a gamble - depending on how my body is feeling that day, the alcohol will either treat me good and make me happy, or just make my head pound like two chipmunks were humping up in my dome. Little chipmunks getting their fuck on, all up in my dome. That's what it's like. Chipmunk sex. In my dome. Doe rae me fa so la tee doe. So as you can see my words are flowing a bit too freely, because the alcohol has left me uninhibited with my prose. I have lost all objectivity on what is funny, stupid, good or bad. I am just rambling on, under the assumption that you the reader are still reading, and maybe I will stike a nugget of humor, or perhaps I will strike a brick of charcoal that represents something that isn't funny. But I shall blog on.

So i was staring in the mirror earlier, just admiring my soft white flesh, when i noticed that some muscles have seemingly popped up out of nowhere. Especially in my pectorial and ab area. Now I'm not trying to brag or anything, and I can speak openly about this subject because it was my former self, but I used to be one ripped bastard. Not so much anymore, but omyjesus I used to look good with my shirt off. Hey fuckoff, I"m only stating the truth. I am simply walking the line between conceit and modesty by virtue of honesty, and honest to JCreezy up in the skeezy i used to look good. But anyways, I guess snowboarding woke up my old muscles, and all the sudden they kind of popped back into place. Ladies please, give your panty hose to me and I shall wash them upon my rock hard abs. Okay I sound like a pervert now. But yeah, i'm playing, it ain't shit really, but its definately inspiration to start working out again. A little sumthing sumthing, yeeeah.

Wednesday, December 22, 2004

No soup for me

Awww shiet I feel so bad right now. I forgot my dad's birthday. I'm such a horrible son. I don't deserve a father.

If I had to raise some turd for 19 years, only to have him neglect my existance by forgetting my one and only birthday, I'd beat him into submission with a wooden plank that has rusty nail sticking out or some shit. I'd slap his face off, then I'd make him drink his own urine. Then i'd chain him up to a tree and smear milk and honey all over his body so a large variety of airborn creatures could eat, sleep, fuck and be merry all over his worthless body. That's how furious I would be. I mean, he might as well forget i even exist. It's only the goddamn day I was born onto this planet - the resulting effect being his own goddamn inception. And that little inception forgot my birthday? Awww hell nah... once again I'd get some good leverage and mollywhomp a rusty nail right through his temple.

I hope he understands though. Besides he's a guy, guys don't really trip about the whole birthday remembering thing. If I'd forgotten my mom's birthday, we'd be living off KFC and Jumbo Jacks for the rest of our days. But he has to still be bummed. I'd be. Its kind of a given, our birthday is that one day we look forward to where we can be finally be the main focus, the center of attention without really doing anything to deserve it. And damn, talk about killing off that expectation. Someone stick my balls in a vice, please. I don't deserve such an integral part of my penis anymore. Just strip me of my manhood and call me Susy. Horrible son... horrible.

Thursday, December 16, 2004

Yo peep this mothahfuckin day right here.

If tonight were a person, his first name would be Cock and his last name would be Block. "Hey George where your umbrella? I think its raining cock again, need something to block it." If cock were a basketball player, he'd go in for the layup... oooh, blocked" Yeah, we made it a Cockbluster night. We rented this movie called A Cockblock Orange and Cockbusters 2. We ain't afraid of no cock. So here's what happened, and allow me to gonna talk black for a second cuz it helps me tell stories.

So checkit, I'm with three my boys and we're kickin it up in the cuts right? We're all peepin the celly, looking for some dimes to kickit with cuz I felt like spittin some game... don't act like you don't know. The homeboy hits up this ho and is all like, "yo bitch you wanna motherfuckin kickit?" and she's all like "fishow". So her and her homegirl roll thru, but checkit - these ladies were straight motherfuckin g-e-t-t-hoe so and I ain't even playing. So I'm not trying to lay the pipe on that. What you think a supah smoov gangstah like me would unravel the red carpet for some breezy hoe? Like I ain't got no standards? Hell nah, she'll prolly wanna be havin my motherfuckin babies and shit, cuz you know these bitches wanna be down with that welfare shit, and I ain't even tryin to send stamps to this hoe. So I stomp out. I leave those breezies for my boys to handle while I go handle my own bidness.

But peep this, while I'm on my way the homeboys call back. They was like "yo, we just got ran up on in the whip". Turns out two cholo motherfuckers ran up on them with bats and knives while they're trying kick back in the cuts, spittin game at these hoes. One homeboy took the butt of a bat on the motherfuckin lips, my other boy took at bat to the head. Then they get robbed for all their dough at knife point. Then these two muhfuckahs try gettin up in their car, but my boy puts the skelly up in the ignition and romps out the fuck out. Damn, that could have been my ass up in that car too. Good thing I wasn't there, ain't no telling what will happen when a thug like me gets the crazy eyes... There would have been some chalk on the pavement but the outline wouldn't be mine, know wut i mean? So, that was a motherfuckin cockblock on thier night.

So I'm up on the solo tip now and this girl calls me up to kickit. So i'm like, "yo, i'm on that, holler at yo boy i'll hit u up when i'm round the way". Then my mom hits me up and is like, "Greg where are you? You've been out for 6 hours now its time to come home". Man fuck that, I'm trying to handle some bitches. But I'd told her I'd have the whip back by 11, so I had to roll home. Damn, can't a playah get his fill?

But there will be other days doggy, fishow fishow... other days.

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

If i weren't blogging i'd probably be playing with myself

You don't realize how relieved I was when i looked at my syllabus today and discovered I didn't have to worry about my English final and final paper until next week. You don't realize how fucking pissed off I was when i realized my syllabus was wrong, and i forgot my teacher had told us it was wrong, and that my English final and 15 pager is due tomorrow. So I'm trying to figure out whether or not I can salvage the vestiges of my grade, or if i should just say fuckit and roll with the tide. Usually, I say fuckit because paddling around in creek full of shit aptly titled "shit's creek" is both smelly and fatiguing. I'd rather be without a paddle so I could just go wherever it takes me, cuz i'm a free spirit like that..... Okay i'm just a lazy fuck.

Ya see, this is the way my procrastination goes. First, I procrastinate a whole shitload because when i tell myself I'll do it later, I truly believe I'll do it later. Either that or i'll tell myself "oh i work better when i'm under pressure" and I'll actually buy that load of crap as well. Then I get to that point where I've procrastinate so much, the task i face seems too far too insurmountable to mount at the time being, so I tell myself "okay let me sleep, i'll wake up early morning where my mind is refreshed, slam a red bull and do whatever i need to do quicker that I can trim my pubes". So i set my alarm clock for early morning the next day. Early morning next day comes, my alarm clock goes off, I awake and think to myself, "who the fuck am i fooling?" and quickly go back to bed so i can sleep off the realization that I just fucked myself in the goat ass.

The irony is I'm procrastinating right now. I should be writing that paper. Ya wanna know what my justification was? I told myself that blogging would help my writing "flow better". Yeah fucking right I just don't wanna do my work. It's funny how whenever a part of us feels like lying to ourself, there's always that other half of us just waiting to buy the lie. And I mean really fucking buy it. Well, I guess its less about "buying" it and more about thinking, "hmm that sounds damn good so i guess its true!" Mmmm yeah i love my lies. They make me feel so cozy and right all the time. Anyways i really gotta fucking get back to this paper. Or maybe I should just goto sleep. Fuckit i'll do this paper tomorrow, BUT I MEAN IT!

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

Ignore this, i don't have a floppy disc here at school so i needa save my shit somehow.

Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris murdered their classmates at Columbine high school and immediately blame was scattered. Fingers were pointed at Marilyn Manson for his macabre lyrics and image, the video game Doom was blamed for its surreal violence, accusations were thrown at the teenager’s parents for negligence, but not once was it explicitly said that these two kids murdered on the self-chosen accord of their own free will. Yet when assigning responsibility it is assumed that despite any influences, one acts freely in this given sense. Is it possible, however, that these teenagers were not as free as we’d like to believe?
Society very much likes to have things explained, especially when it comes to what makes us tick. We like to know how our bodies work, what causes mental illness, what determines sexual preference, what causes depression, addiction, intelligence, obesity, etc. It is understood that schizophrenics are the way they are because of a malfunctioning of the brain, and many times the mentally ill are referred to as being “not right in the head”. In essence, the effects of biology and environment on the individual are being scrutinized from every angle, classified and written in textbooks, and we tend to hail such understandings of our nature as being a triumph of the scientific world.
Yet when it comes to explaining what made the kids at Columbine commit their crime, the blame ultimately falls on their self-chosen accord despite their influences. Is this an explanation? It’s impossible to know every biological impetus that influenced the kids at Columbine, or every environmental factor that caused them to plot their crime, but if these factors were entirely understood they would render the children’s sense of morality as being superfluous. To map out every biological urge and how it was felt, or to identify every environmental influence and how it was interpreted would be to understand precisely what didn’t cause the children to do as they should have done. In this regard, it is no wonder why Stephen Pinker of M.I.T once concluded that, "Science and morality are separate spheres of reasoning. Only by recognizing them as separate can we have them both...".

Sunday, December 12, 2004

Do you find me offensive?

I'm so damn tired right now. Wow, great opening greg, that ain't cliche at all. It's only the same six words that have come out of every uncomfortable silence thats ever occured, why don't you talk about the weather for chrissakes while you're at it? But really i'm so damn tired right now my eyes are chinked out like two sideways vaginas. I was snowboarding all day long in Big Bear. I fucking conquered that mountain, let me tell you. I might as well have pissed my name in the snow and marked my territory because that shit belongs to me. And then i moved off the bunny slopes. But enough about me.

Black people have really been hitting the slopes lately. Last year we used to do this count, call it racist if you will i call it an observation of cultural behavior, but black people don't like beaches and they certainly don't hit the slopes. So we count how many black people we see. Last year the white/black ratio was about 50/1. Today, to my surprise, the count was getting so high we started taking families as one unit/person. I mean, this isn't just that one black guy who scored some white friends. This isn't Tyrone and Tyler hitting the slopes bro. This is the entire Jones family. Next thing you know, Fubu will have its own line of extreme weather clothing and then, I will die from a brain aneurism as I sit eating cashews.

And howabout them Mexicans? Yep, they're still pulling over on the side of the road at the first signs of snow. Little Pedro throws balls of dirty slush at his brother Tito while Maria clings to her mommy's arm. Mother watches with an obligatory smile and snaps a picture of the heated battle with her disposable Kodak camera. Paco cries because he touched snow and it was cold. Hector is eating pork rinds with limon. Julio is thanking the Virgin Mary for snow and Dad is sitting in the car staring at the top of the mountain, wondering what it'd be like to actually go up there instead of just stopping at the first sings of snow to let the kids sled down 3 foot inclines on top of hefty trashbags, only to go home soon after.

And what about them Asians? Yep, still can't tell them apart. Especially when they're all bundled up on the slopes. An asian dude will ski past you, 5 seconds later the same exact dude skis past you. You think you're starting to lose it. Then you remember, "oh yeah, Asian... duh!" Me so sowwy.

Oh but that's nothing yet. Okay, so hows this for a Twilight Zone episode. So I walk into the burger king right? Every single employee was white... If you live in LA, you'll know the significance of this, and you have just shat out your liver. Oh but you think i'm done? Guess who the customers were. Just guess... Yep, you guessed it - they were mexicans! The mexicans were having their orders taken by white people. Hold on i'm going to vomit up my spleen. Is that not some other dimension shit? I swear, sometimes life just really fucks with you. Then you excrete internal organs.

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

Nuts and Red Bull

There's not a damn thing to eat in the fridge. Let me rephrase that, there's not a damn thing ready to eat in the fridge. Sure there's eggs and ham and all that shit but that requires preparation. I dunno what to do, i'm starving. I drank a red bull and that kind of curbed the hunger, but eventually its gonna get really bad. And its kind of gloomy outside so i don't feel like taking a drive to Jack in the Crack, plus that's money and I gotta wait in the drive thru. So i'm eating nuts right now, heavily salted cashews to be exact. Although It wouldn't be very prudent to make a whole meal out of nuts. They're kind of fattening, despite being healthy. And I don't know if they'll provide me with all the essential vitamins necessary to get me through my day. I need a well balanced meal as dictated by the pyramid with all those pictures of food on it. But who says I need a meal in the conventional sense? Fuckit, nuts and Red Bull for breakfast it is. Besides I'm already kind of full off these little fuckers anyways.

So everybody has been telling me how good my skin looks lately. Okay maybe not everybody, but first it was my cousins on thanksgiving, and then it was this girl at the bowling alley last night. I was outside and i sparked up some small talk with her. She was like, "my gosh you have really nice skin, the ladies must like you" and made the indication that she was talking about my face. I stroked my chin as if I had peach fuzz there (I can't really grow facial hair) and told her, "why thank you". Okay she wasn't a "girl" she was like in her 60's and she was smoking a cigarette like a hag bag. But I appreciated the sentiment and the fact that I apparently have nice skin still holds true. Or maybe she was just saying I have nice skin because I have nothing else going for me, but that's impossible. I've had plenty of rust coated 60 year olds tell me i'm handsome or give me a pleasant smile in diners. My past may not be filled with nights of hedonistic debauchery and tag teaming hoes but when it comes down to it, old people think i'm hot, gay people think I'm hot, shit even my cell mates thought i was hot. Okay that's an inside joke. But laugh anyways.

Okay I'm off the subject, it sounds like I dont' know whether to be self-deprecating or conceited. FYI I am neither. I just let reality and "what is" impose itself on me, rather than imposing myself on reality. When people do the latter, that's when you get fat bitches staring in the mirror willing themselves to think they're hot shit. The truth is, fat bitches can never, ever, ever, be hot shit. This isn't the 1600's, junk in the trunk and meat on the seat doesn't get the blood flowing to my bejoogles. But i don't look down on fat people, its not like anybody wills themselves to be fat. That's like saying someone willed themself to be gay, nobody enjoys being in that position. So what's the solution for people with an weight problem? Crack cocaine, cocaine, crystal methamphetamine, bullemia, anorexia hmm what else. Oh yeah, eat better meals and exercise.

Monday, December 06, 2004

Alcohol you are my downfall.

Usually when someone eats some food but gets sick for whatever reason and vomits it back up, they grow an aversion to that food. I don't know how many times I've puked up my alcohol, but I still love it all the same. Now that's love right there, the only problem is alcohol doesn't love me back. As you can see from link of my blog, i am a mexichink. Meaning, I am half mexican, half chink. But when it comes to drinking my last name might as well be Chang, or Quan, or- well i think that's all of them right there. But let me tell you what happens when i drink.

I take a swiggy. I feel the back of my ears get kind of hot. Holy shit as a matter of fact, my entire face is getting kind of hot. Someone comes up to me and says, "hey greg, why are you turning red?". I respond, "Because i'm asian, fuckoff". 15 minutes later the same person comes back and says, "Holy shit greg you're even redder than before". I respond, "yes, i'm asian, fuckoff". Now i'm feeling so self-conscious about being all tomato faced I don't even want to be seen, yet alot spit at some fine dimes. And I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "holy shit this dude is mexican asian but he just said "spit at some fine dimes"". Mmmhmm. And I know what else you're thinking. You're thinking, "cry me a fucking river build a bridge and get over it". BUT YOU DON"T UNDERSTAND. My redness when I drink it one of a kind. I can stop a train with my redness. I bet if i walked into a room with the lights on, everybody would come to a hush and stare at me, just like in my dreams but instead I'm naked in those. And its funny because sex scenes was just talking today about how people have the tendancy to embellish the truth in their blogs. If anything, what I speak of is an understatement.

So why do i still drink? Selfish reasons of course. There's always those times where i just don't give a shit about how I look. And then there's those times where i wanna drink but i do care about how i look, so i gotta drink myself retarded to the point where i don't care anymore. And that's always fun but slightly unproductive because that's alot of booze. And I can't handle alot of booze. I tend to vomit. And then i gotta clean my shoes off the day after. And if I was really hacking it, I gotta clean my pants off too before they hit the washer. Either that or tell my mom i spilled some soup on them the night before. Because she still does the laundry for me. I'm 19 btw.

Saturday, December 04, 2004

The cloud who was afraid of heights, the height who was afraid of clouds

So i was at skidazzle today, it's a snowboard/ski convention. Bought alot of shit but that's neither here no there, because I saw some Indians. No, i'm not joking, real fucking Indians. I know, seeing an pure blooded Indian is about as rare as seeing a pure blooded Indian, but I shit you not. They had their own little stage there with a PA system and about 30 or so chairs layed out for an audience which consisted primarily of parents with their small children who seemed to get a kick out of "cwapping to da sound of da dwums". But the few that were sitting down weren't actually there to watch the Indian pow-wow heyayaya, they were just resting their feet and fell into the trap of feeling obligated to watch because "He Who Coos Like Owl" was making just a little bit too much eye-contact with them. I don't why the Indians were there, perhaps its was one of those "hey, remember us?" kind of promotion deals. But what struck me as being rather out of place was when one of the red men came up and started talking about the spirits and how they have blessed him. He started evengelizing to the people in the audience, telling them to get in touch with the different spirits. Yeah, i thought he was talking about alcohol too until i started listening harder. But it made me think, does evengelizing even fucking work?

Is there the slightest chance in hell- I mean, spirit of the lake land, that someone in that audience was sitting there thinking, "goodbye God, hello tree bark"? I mean don't get me wrong, Native American polytheism/paganism is a spiritual outlook i find rather intruiging, but I wasn't exactly stopping dead in my tracks to think, "FUCK ME, I've had it all wrong this entire time. There ARE spirits out there and one of them is in that fucking rock right there". I mean, it's kinda fuckin hard to prove yourself wrong about some spiritual outlook when you can't even prove yourself right in the first place. It seems like religious affiliation all boils down to what you were handed when you were born, or what sounds the prettiest. And on that note, I now worship Allah, my name is Yasswir Mofommhed Ali, and I wish to fuck 72 virgins when i die. Kill me now, please. But here's what I don't get, if every dead person gets 72 virgins, then does that mean they can only fuck 72 times? Afterall, you're fucking virgins, fuck one and her cherry is popped, you're down to 71. And what happens to the chic after that? No dead person can fuck her, there's signs posted up in Islam Heaven, "Non-virgin intercourse strictly prohibited". She's off with her vibrator cuz that's all she's got from then on. See I think about this shit, apparently Muslims don't cuz they go around believing all this cooky shit. They don't realize that for every dead male, there's gonna be 72 bitches condemned to dildo's for the rest of eternity, but only after they finally get the taste of penis. And that's wrong... Jihad on that, bitches.

Thursday, December 02, 2004

Sorry ma'am, you cannot trade in your baby because he's ugly

So my English teacher gave me the topic for my extra credit essay today - does "ugly" exist? Damn this man has sized me up. He could have given me something PC like teachers tend to do, such as "does beauty exist?". But he knows I shine the most when i get to pee on things. What can i say, I guess i'm just a pee-ssimist. HOLY SHIT I HIT THAT ONE OUT OF THE PARK. But he brought up a rather interesting question. Does ugly exist?

Of course for the sake of simplicity i am tempted to say, "of course ugly exists i see it every day, and it usually has legs". But of course its not that simple. If i were a samurai, i would probably sit around all day sipping misu soup, with my shoes off of course, and pondering the question, "what is ugly to a rock?". Because there is no ugly to a rock. Ugly is a concept so of course, it is only applicable to those who can cognate concepts and that leaves us. Or does it?

What about animals? Certainly they must have a very primal, intuitive sense of what is pleasing or displeasing to the eye. I can recall on various occasions certain creatures as being ultimately fond of me, yet i had no scents in my possession that may have aroused their olfactory senses. I am therefore left to conclude, and i shall set my modesty aside for the moment, that I was the most pleasantly symmetrical face in the room and therefore meritorious of their copulations on my leg.

But this still does not bridge the gap between qualitative reality and just plain "atomic" existance. I think, perhaps, an even more intruiging question is what came first - was the concept of ugly hiding in the fold of an uncognated reality, waiting to be perceived at the very moment a perceiver came about? Or did it simply emerge as a pragmatic offshoot of the brain, befitting to our evolutionary needs and developed over time so that it may find its very own hue on a spectrum of what is perceived. How the fuck should I know? I ain't no fucking expert at this shit. Ugly exists, her name is Shaqueeta.

Wednesday, December 01, 2004

Religions of the world summed up

So i saw this floating around today and pissed myself laughing. It was worth it though... urinating on myself in exchange for a good har har. Checkit. It's the religions of the world summed up quite nicely.

TAOISM: Shit happens.
BUDDHISM: If shit happens, it really isn't shit.
ZEN: What is the sound of shit happening?
ISLAM: If shit happens, take a hostage.
HINDUISM: This shit happened to me before.
MORMON: This shit is going to happen again.
SEVENTH DAY ADVENTIST: No shit on Saturdays.
JEHOVAH'S WITNESS: Knock, knock "Shit happens".
ATHEISM: No shit.
EXISTENTIALISM: What is shit, anyway?
HEDONISM: There's nothing like a good shit happening.
RASTAFARIANISM: Let's smoke this shit.
PROTESTANTISM: Let the shit happen to someone else
CATHOLICISM: If shit happens, I deserve it.
JUDAISM: Why does this shit always happen to us?