Monday, January 31, 2005

First I'm talking about stalking, now I"m talking about little girls and boys, I'm not creepy one bit!

People aren't allowed to say young girls are hot. Oh no no no, that's something perverts say. Instead, you must follow the Unwritten Social Contract Law #443, as pertaining to male perversion and proper etiquette and state, "oh she's GONNA BE hot when she grows up". For the time being, the kindling pubescent virgins must hover in limbo - too old to be safely deemed "cute" but too young to be "hot". They're undefined. Pieces of potential waiting in line to receive their proper nomenclature. But I've never been one to beat around the bush, even if they don't have one, I'll say it like it is. Britney Spears' sister is hot. Look at that cutie. Aww shizzle he's crossed the line, shush. Don't get me wrong. Brad Pitt is hot too, doesn't mean I want to fuck him. But look at her. She's the new Olsen Twins if one of them died at birth. I could already see bastards counting down the days till Jamie Lynn Spears is 18. What a wonderful birthday that will be! It'll be the day when every guy can finally... What?... Jerk off without feeling guilty? But don't worry, she may be cute but I won't be getting all Oingo Boingo up in here. Yeah, you know the song. "IIIII love little girls they make me feel so good".

Speaking about little girls, lets talk about little boys. Don't worry I won't crack a bad priest joke. I won't say something like, "touch me father, for I have sinned". Nope... I'd rather insert a bad Micheal Jackson joke. I just can't quite think of one. But poor, poor Micheal. Did you know he had his childhood usurped from his little African American hands? In one of his songs he says, and I quote, "Have you seen my chiiildhoood?" end quote. Oh Micheal... You poor little man-boy, I'm afraid I haven't seen your childhood. I've been looking all over but - wait a second... what's this I've found? I've found a hug! A hug all for you Micheal!

People like Micheal make me want to become a shrink. I was watching the VH-1 special on Micheal Jackson's Secret Life. The boy has had it bad. His brothers would be banging groupies while Mike was trying to sleep on the next bed over, he was a devout Jehova's Witness, and he was abused. That's a recipe for a very flavor filled disaster and countless plastic surgeries to say the least. Oh yeah, I could also see how all that would lead to the part about him liking little boy wang. But here's my question to yall. Can you really blame him for liking his Snickers fun-sized? I mean, yeah he could have always said no, but shoulda/woulda/coulda lets look at the facts. He has an undeniable urge to drink Kool-aid instead of wine, if you know what I mean, and after a while urges will just motherfuckin get to ya. I don't condone Micheal's actions but an urge is an urge, the man has alot of weight to carry on his shoulders.

On a similar note, Texas Gurl wrote an commendable essay on Free Will. Its beneath all those pictures of the gay dude. This has only been like, my favorite topic of debate evarr *snort*. Makes you really think about how responsible we are for the things we do. Read it and then see if you go blaming Micheal Jackson for touching little boy cock!

Sunday, January 30, 2005

Yo peeps this be back in the mothafuckin dayz

So I was fucking this guy in the ass right? He reaches around and starts tickling my balls, and I'm like, "DUDE! Are you gay?"


Have you ever been on the playground as a child when someone called you a dumbhead or something of a hurtful nature? Whenever someone used to call me names, I'd always say, "well, it takes one to know one!" That got them every time. What was their comeback? Silence.

It's not like anybody made fun of me though, I just had the tendancy to upset people. I guess you could say I was a bit of a... different, child. I had a precocious intellect and I was a rebel in every sense of the word. I once drew a picture of a gay dog in second grade, he was wearing a beret. In Kindergarten I made a papier mache of Jesus on the cross, smiling. Then there was that time where I shat in the tub and called my parents over, thinking they'd find it as funny as I did. I stopped laughing pretty quick though. At school i used to intertwine staples together and throw them over the wall to the car wash on the other side, waiting to hear people's tires pop, but they never did. During recess when I played kickball, I would run the bases in a completely unpredictable manner. Sometimes I'd kick the ball and head off to third, sometimes I'd shoot past the pitcher straight to second, sometimes I'd steal first base... ya never knew with me. Then, when everybody got real pissed off, I'd act confused like an asian tourist and say, "Wha? Heey? me so sowwy me so sowwy". After a while nobody wanted me to play on their team. I didn't like kickball anyways. True stories.

Okay don't mind me anymore I'm just gonna start reminiscing with myself about the past. Deep breath... ahhh, memories. I remember in fifth grade I used to have the biggest crush on this girl the grade below me, but everytime I tried to talk to her I'd feel the urge to vomit. She was either that beautiful or I was just that gay. Either way, I still bear the emotional scars of having never asked her out. She always had a goddamn boyfriend. Slut. Okay sorry I didn't mean that, I guess i just hate what i can't have. Hate it, hate it, hate it!!!

If only I saw her today. How I'd ravage her. She probably has a bunch of kids. Okay fuck! I didn't mean that either. This love... this hate, its tearing me apart, tearing up my heart. Time to bust out the binoculars and yellow pages, along with some big unibomber sunglasses and a creepy look on my face. It's time to do some stalking.

Friday, January 28, 2005

Bless me? Fuck you.

Okay I have a quick question. How many of you out there say "bless you" when someone sneezes? Raise your hand. I see I see, okay put your hands down. This has got to stop people. Why should someone's involuntary bodily response require a voluntary response from everyone around them? Don't get me wrong, I've been saying bless you for 19 years of my life, simply because my parents taught me it was polite. And I feel like a tool.

See here's why we say "bless you". Waay back in the day when people were far too superstitious, religious, and stupid, they said bless you because it was part of their belief that everytime someone sneezed, their soul expelled from their mouth, thus allowing passage for demons and the like to come inside. Believe it or not, they covered their mouth back then as well, not because they were aware of germs or anything like that, but so they could stop their fucking soul from flying out of their mouth at 600 mph. And of course the obligatory "bless you" was started. And of course we're still keeping the demons at bay in the year 2005. Totally polite.

So I've had it with saying "bless you". And I'm not switching to gezuntheit or salud or any of those cultural variations of the same retarded concept, you're all sneezing to a wall of silence. Because it's such a hassle.

Someone sneezes. Another person is obliged to say "bless you". The sneezer is obliged to say "thank you". Are you counting the syllables with me folks? That's 4 syllables being pissed off into the wind for the sake of some superstitious tradition that should have died along with whichever opium smoking pope started the damn thing in the first place. And imagine if more than one person says "bless you". Take all those people, multiply that by 2, and that's how many syllables are being collectively puked down the drain just because some jackass was allergic to pollen. Then you have the people who say "God bless you". They really take their bless you's seriously. Needless to say, I don't think God's blessings are really necessary just because someone had an itch on their damn nose.

So who's ready to start the revolution? Yeah, you may appear impolite at first. Who cares?. But if you MUST maintain your manners, instead of saying bless you whenever someone sneezes, just say, "excuse me ma'am/sir, I would say bless you but..." and explain everything I just said to them. That should do the trick. So who's ready? Who's ready to shut the fuck up?

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

Got Laid?

I'm a man with many pet peeves. People definately top my list, and then there's the things people do that form little subdivisions of smoldering anger. For example, people who talk about their dreams. What are they thinking? Why would I ever want to listen to someone talk about themselves doing shit they never actually did? And what am I supposed to say in response?

"Wow. Crazy."

And they almost always set up their story by saying, "I had the craziest dream last night...". Dear me, had a crazy dream you say? I'd fucking hope so. Why would anyone act surprised that they had a crazy dream? Aren't they all? Have a completely normal dream, then I'll be like, "get the fuck out of here!".

Let's hear about that one dream that had you sitting in class for 2 hours straight, racking your brain for something to say to little Miss Flower Cooch sitting right next to you, and while you thought of something to say you're still too pussy to say it, so once again you exit the room in shame and head straight for the parking lot. You get to your car and leave but on the way home you run into traffic on the 405, so you spark up a cigarette even though its your mom's car and you don't want it to smell. Then you realize you had the air conditioner on the whole time so the smell of smoke has already sucked up into the air filter for good and that gets you thinking about how much your mom is going to kill you and how bad life sucks now. Finally you get home and make yourself a balogna sandwitch with toasted bread and take a seat in front of the computer, where you proceed to jerk off to your favorite Monica Sweetheart porno. You're exhausted by this point so you lay in bed to try and take a nap, and that's when it hits you... You're already asleep and this was all just a dream. Now thats real life right there. Yeah, tell me about that one.

People all talking about their dreams and shit... Are your initials M.L.K? No? Shut the fuck up then.

Another pet peeve of mine is trailer trash philosophy. Ya know, when stupid people try their hand at encapsulating life. They say such shit like, "Guns don't kill people, people kill people". And I suppose H bombs don't kill millions of people, people kill millions of people. Way to overlook the issue you oxycontin poppin, Pabs Blue Ribbon drinkin stains on the fabric of life. I suppose my shoe shoved up your ass didn't cause constipation, Adiddas did. And don't get me started on Baptist Christians. Is it okay if we start killing these people? Really now. They say shit like, "Pain and suffering brings balance, they allow us to experience joy". No, I think I'll be happy either way. I don't suppose getting a swift foot to the nuts from a girl in second grade allowed me to appreciate my genitals that much more. "Oh happy happy fucking joy joy my balls were once lost but now they're found." Retarded logic right there I tell you. Someone's dreaming about bustin caps tonight.

Who doesn't like Bagels?

If you showed a monkey a porno that featured only monkey sex, do you think he'd become aroused? He should be smart enough to know a good thing when he sees it, right? And monkies are pretty smart, they might even be smarter than babies. Or what about dolphins? I hear dolphins are super smart, like really, they should be wearing glasses and shit. Imagine little flipper flappin his fins all happy-like. I remember this one time, I saw a website explaining to humans how to make love to a dolphin. Apparently that aquatic pussy is the real motherfuckin deal. And sheep are so unappreciative and yesterday's story. But back to porno. We can't be the only animals to enjoy porno. I think it'd be cute to watch animals as they viewed porn.

I love porno. These porno haters really need to back off. I don't think its possible to degrade a woman any lower than the average male's mind already has. Take me for example, I like to get messy. I've had motzarella sticks, egg rolls, corn-on-the-cob, hard boiled eggs, the works. I make delicious salads in my noggin. The least I can do is watch a porno and pretend thats my king sized dick on the screen.

Which is why i like a porno with a good reality factor. So I don't like the high budget porno flick. I feel that it's too artificial, too contrived. Plus, they always feel the need to get an upclose of the guy's face right before the cumshot. As if they were trying to kill mine. I swear its a conspiracy to fuck up my flow, so I'd be forced to keep watching the movie. And they always have music in the background. Is this really necessary? Is cheesy, unsexy synth music jammin' from a Casiotone really the icing on the cake for a bucking hardcore fuck scene? Because I'd beg to differ. I prefer to hear the crystal clear resonation of sweaty balls slapping against red cheeks.

But that's just me.

Am i still talking about masturbation?

Monday, January 24, 2005

Eat your meat! How can you eat your puddin if you don't eat your meat!!

I got a haircut today. Yeah baby, like fresh cut grass my head is. So nice, so nice! I didn't goto no barber though. I refuse to render my tress to the buzzors. Buzzors promote an apathetic approach to what should be a craftsmanship. I'm a scissor man all the way, for that natural, textured look. So I goto a stylist. But I was a bit dissapointed when I walked into Freddy and Ilana's today. I have a little boo up in there that I've been coming to for a while. I like her to cut my hair, or should I say, she likes to cut my hair, yeah... She's in her late twenties, a good looking Russian chic. But when I walked in today I took one look at her and knew something was up. Why must all the hotties suddenly go bulemic?

As a young client of hers I tried to keep a strictly professional relationship between us. But this didn't stop me from flirting with her on occasion. Were my innocent passes at her not enough? Did I not make her feel special? Did I not unconsciously stare at her breasts long enough to get caught as she'd dillegently cut my hair? Now there's hardly anything to stare at, because she had go and puke her breast fat down the toilet.

Why... whyyyy? What did the mirror tell her that I couldn't?

It's such a shame too, because all the girls I've ever known that went annorexic/bulemic (which is alot) didn't need to. Instead of doing lots of meth and cocaine and losing weight the natural way, they had to go put a lock on their mouth and swallow the key. And I know that's impossible because once you lock your mouth you can't swallow the key, but the metaphor still rings painfully true. Some women just don't get it. Or girls I should say. "Ooh i needa get breast implants. Oooh look at these stretch marks, they're horrific!". And then they superimpose their sense of disgust with themselves on the male intellect, assuming we share the very same distaste of these so called "imperfections". We don't. Our general disconcern with our looks holds universally true in the sense that, we aren't holding any magnifying glasses to ourselves, and we certainly aren't holding any to women. Distance is a virtue.

If a fat person wants to go and puke their fat away, be my guest. Bulemia/annorexia has been proven to shed the pounds and quick. But its not the fat people who are going bulemic, its the hotties!! You'd think fat people would be the first to be bending over in the stalls and losing that lunch, but I guess they're too ugly to be that vane. So i guess its pretty ironic that its the beauty that allows these girls to be vane enough in the first place to think they're fat or ugly, yet it all makes sense in a twisted sort of way. So if you ask me this whole eating disorder thing is just fucked up and vicious. What's the solution? I dunno, black people?

I know those crazy cats love them thicky thick girls, and I know these hot white chics love the B.B.C. I guess it's on my African American comrades to start the thicky thick revolution, lets get these white bitches eating. And start with my boo so I can feel her boobies brush up against my back again as she cuts my hair.

Sunday, January 23, 2005

HAHAHAahahaha.. aaaahahhahahahahahaha... aaaahahahahhahaha.... mmmm

I love how some people just automatically assume their interests are shared by the rest of the world. For example, other people's blogs. Not very eclectic I see. Could we cut back on the self-indulgent writing? I just read a blog where every single entry was about women... and fucking... and women... and fucking. And like, yeah its a naturally interesting topic and all, and yeah us guys may think about sex roughly every 10 seconds or so, but that's kind of my whole point - I'm too busy thinking about my own thang to really give two jizz filled condoms about anyone else's, so for fucks sake show some restraint and write about something else. This dude was all writing about his sexual experiences, and you'd think his near empty commentboxes would be a good hint that nobody cared.

And it's not even the topics per se that bothered me, because after all, if you're gonna write about something over and over again at least write about sex. No no, what bothered me was the fact that he actually believed I, the reader, found his personal life entirely interesting. I don't. I have a hard time caring about anyone's personal life. Can you make it funny? No? Shutup then.

There's always that temptation to treat this blog like a diary but unless you have a big nose and your name is Anne Franke nobody cares. Or just think what I think, "I don't care about your boring life, therefore you don't care about mine" and its settled. I think that's some pretty obvious, mirror-like logic right there. So then what's with certain people thinkin all they have to do is write and we, the readers, will be entertained? That's like me sticking my stiffy in some chic, leaving it in as i take a nap on her chest, waking up the next morning and asking, "how was it?" with a smug look on my face. Put in some work for fucks sake.

I am so unimpressed by other people's lives its not even funny. Unless they're hot... then I'll incorporate every bit of their life into my sex fantasies about them. "Went to the market and bought some milk you say? Oh privy you! Enamore me with your stories of produce selection." Then we'd be doing it all crazy on floor in the fruits section. Hell yeah. I'd go find some triscuits and eat like a motherfucking pimp. Then she'd suck me off again cuz I step back up to bat on the quickness. But back to what I was saying, fuckin a, some people need to love themselves a little bit less. Really now.

I sometimes find that my best posts come when i feel like shit. It makes sense. With self-loating, not every word that comes out of my mouth is automatically funny so I gotta try harder. So there ya go. If you want to entertain me, hate yourself. Your dad thinks you're gay and your mom was hoping for a daughter. You're a loser. Now go and be funny.

Saturday, January 22, 2005

Depressed? What for?

Q: What do you call Vietnamese guy that wants to be black?
A: Vinegar.

Q: What do you call a black lady who complains?
A: A Nagger.

Q: What's strong enough for a man but made for a woman?
A: The back of my hand.

joookes people, cmon laugh. And lastly:

Q: What do you get when you stick a fork in a dead baby?
A: I don't know about you but I get a hard on.

Nothing like good humor to brighten up your day. Think of it as my gift to you people, so you can start your day off with a smile on your face, and if its nighttime over there, may you have wet dreams about babies with forks in them. Because that's all I really want people... For everyone to be happy. Happy and smiling. Cuz I've never looked at a smiling face and not felt a little bit happier afterwards, so if everyone was walking around smiling, imagine how infecious that'd be. People wouldn't want to smoke crack or shoot up heroine, or smoke sherm dogg or any of that. They'd just be high off the power of a smile. Wow people. I feel happy just writing about this!

And It's not that hard to start up the motherfucking revolution (Excuse the profanity the emotion just got a hold of me). Happiness is infectiously delicious. We just need a few strategically placed smilers in a crowd get this epidemic of joy airborne. It may start a bit slow at first, happiness will have to chisel away at those frowns. But once this melting pot of love gets a' boiling, we'll be serving up some smile soup in no time!

And after a while just imagine how it'd look for the people who weren't smiling. People would look down on them as a no-feeler. A frowner. And why? For what? Because they settled for a frown when they could have turned it upside down? It's like, some emotions are so much fun, especially that happy one. So why feel anything else? Really now, let's crank up the happy meters to eleven. Let's blare these speakers of love. It's a dance party and you're invited. The only dress code is a smile.

And stop beating your wives for chrissakes.

Thursday, January 20, 2005

Gather Around Kiddies, Grandpa Has a Story to Tell and He's Real Proud of This One

They say some of the greatest discoveries are stumbled upon by accident. While my greatest discovery was thoroughly accidental, I wouldn't say I stumbled upon it.. more like jerked my way to it.

I've been wacking off since the third grade. Okay thats a lie, second grade. There I said it. Yeah, that may be TMI at first, but I think its rather indicative of some creative thinking on my part. I discovered wacking off. Yeap, little boy Einstein put 2 and 2 together to make one big joyous 4. In turn my cherised equation has produced many, many 4's, all which have been transcribed on the backs of various napkins and tissues. But in all truth, back then I didn't even know what an orgasm was, nor did I know what it was for, or what part of my body felt it. I was simply playing with my dick one day when things started to feel way cool. "This is starting to feel gooder!" Little Second Grade Me thought. "I must explore this goodness, choo choo!". Little did I know what goodness lay ahead... Goodness to the extreme.

*3 seconds to departure.*

So there I am, giving myself the ole' down up down up when my shit, unexpected as a theif in the night, goes off. It hit me like a ton of bricks. The feeling... not the semen. The sensation exploded like an H bomb, spreading its supersonic shockwaves of unimaginable goodness around my entire Hiroshima region. I think i may have even lost my vision for a second. And if I may be extremely candid for a moment, it was a dry-load - my balls hadn't even dropped yet. Go get em tiger.

I stood up looking as if I had just dreamt of being anal probed and was trying to figure out which state of consciousness I was in; but knew I wasn't dreaming. I was experiencing something real, something very very real - I was feeling a newfound love for my penis and my hand. Oh my blessed, blessed hand. On top of this rapturous sensation I was embraced by a consequential "aftershock" which resonated throughout my penis. It was a subtle yet pleasant sensation my penis was sending out, notifying the rest of my body that the dragon has awoke, and is now breathing fire.

A bead of sweat dripped down my forehead, signifying my baptism into a new life...

So there's my story kids. I was the Louis and Clark of masturbation. Excuse me, I feel a bit nostalgic right now, there's nothing quite like the first time. But I find it rather funny how no one talks about their first time wacking off, yet they're quick to detail that one fateful night when their voice dropped a whole octave and they found out the smell of Sally Fuckalot's snatch refused to come off their fingers. But in all honesty, I recall my first time greasing the pole in technicolor vibrancy as compared to my first time fucking. But then again, the unparalleled intimacy shared between me and my right hand might explain this little discrepancy of recollection. It's just so damn... faithful to me.

I've never understood why some guys don't talk about wacking off. It's not like you're joining some secret society by talking about it; perhaps it may feel that way in light of such a "secret", kept hidden like a stash of bondage. But you're really just admitting "Hey I'm a guy. I have at least one hand and a penis" and that's all. I think perhaps the main reason most men don't want to say anything is because of the visuals. Those lonely, lonely visuals. That left hand bracing the wall, that right hand pumping faster than the eye can fully see, those eyes darting back reaching for concentration... you look like a fucking retard. But I don't care about the visuals, fuckit... I"ll smile for the camera. Hi my name is Greg, this is my shower. Cheese motherfuckers... cheese.

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

The Sound of My Guitar, the Sound of My Soul

I wish i could sing. I wish i could sing, and play the guitar. I wish i was a good songwriter too. Then i could make songs, sing them, and impress people. My lyrics would be from the heart. I'd sing about life, and how people live and die everyday, and how there's people starving in Somolia. I'd also sing about girls, but I wouldn't make all my songs about girls like some people do because I'm 19 and still blossoming in my dating career. If i could do all of that, I'd walk around school with a guitar around my neck, and if moment felt right, I'd find a bench and play a little song. People would see me and gather around, but I'd be too busy to notice them. A sound would be coming from my guitar, the sound of my soul. I'd only know they were there because they'd be clapping when i finished. Then I'd smile, give them a nod, and go cry my excess emotion away in the bathroom..

Yeah... That's a good fantasy. Right after a never ending orgasm, becoming a guitar virtuoso with an angelic set of pipes would be my second wish if I ever so happened to rub a genie bottle down the right way. But of course, a neverending orgasm would be the first thing on my list. It would compliment my guitar skills quite nicely, and perhaps I could milk it and write some really cool uplifting songs. As for my third wish, I don't think I'd care too much about it with frenetic guitar skills and a never ending orgasm under my belt. I'd probably wish for world peace. Actually you know what? Come to think about it, I'd want to be able to control my never ending orgasm, because there is such thing as too much of a good thing. And there are times when I wouldn't want to be having an orgasm, like at the diner table or when i'm trying to sleep. I'd make sure the genie knew I needed to have the ability to turn it on and off. But the guitar skills would always be on, I wouldn't need a switch for that because that seems superfluous.

But speaking about orgasms, what a neat concept. At any given moment in time it is assured that, if a certain part of my body undergoes enough friction, I will feel really really good for a couple of seconds. And of course shit shoots out of your dick all over the place, but lets just call that a neutral benefit of a male orgasm, unless you're looking to procreate and then you need that stuff. Guys got it good.

But I've always been jealous of women too, because they seem to really cherish their orgasms. The flight control checklist that leads to takeoff on a woman's body seems so complicated compared to a guy's... button. I can probably squeeze one off within a few seconds short of a minute. Which is just as much of an accomplishment as holding one off till the wee hours of the night if you think about it, because its all mind control either way, baby. Now there's a sport for the Sexual Olympics. See who can bust the quickest nut. The Sexual Olympics is of course, my vision for the future; it needs no explaining it is just what it sounds like. But it doesn't come every four years actually i'm gonna hold it every week, 6pm. my house. Oh yeah and btw, I'm taking donations for futons, thanks.

Brb in a minute.

Monday, January 17, 2005

Once again, i'm not gay.

Conformity. What an controversial word. Let's look it up shall we?

con·form·i·ty Audio pronunciation of "conformity" ( P ) Pronunciation Key (kn-fôrm-t)
n. pl. con·form·i·ties

1. Similarity in form or character; agreement: I acted in conformity with my principles.
2. Action or behavior in correspondence with socially accepted standards, conventions, rules, or laws: conformity to university regulations.


Hmm, what do I think about this lovely concept? Well, if i were a crater-faced 16 year old, my ensuing blog entry would probably read like this: fuck conformity! conformists are sheep. they have huge gaping assholes from someone constantly shoving their hand up their butt, because they're nothing but a bunch of puppets! everybody wants to be like someone else, but when you want to be like someone else, that just means you don't want to be like you!

Wisdom.... almost

But peep this, I'm an angst-free 19 year old so let me say this. There ain't a damn thing wrong with conforming, just know when you're doing it at least. Then and only then may the conformist be absolved of being a meat-puppet with an extremity shoved up their bum. It's the whole, once you know the rules you can break them sort of thing. So you can be cliche, as long as you apologize for it. Where the hell am I going with all this?

Well, I don't want to apply Neosporin to my over-stretched asshole in the near future, so i must apologize for something right now. I'm sorry, I'm so very very sorry, but I joined the herd. I watched Desperate Housewives, and I found it delightful.

Okay let me explain, because I must reiterate the fact that i'm not gay. I took a snowboarding trip up to Mammoth on a rather short notice. So short, I didn't get to post any goodbye(but shpanks for "missing" me sex, I still lust you). I was chillin in the cabin watching TV, I had no remote control, the girls wanted to watch Desperate Housewives, what am I to do? I could of course have been like, "yo fuck that you dumb bitches, we're watching SPIKE tv and i'm gonna eat this motherfucking steak right here" but nah. I kind of wanted to watch it. Eeeverybody is doing it! So I watched it. I liked it. I probably won't ever watch it again, but it was good.

There, I'm glad I got that off my chest. Moving on.

Cats are underrated. Once again, i'm not gay. You don't have to walk them, they just eat and sleep and if they're sluts they fuck alot. Total stoners they are. But they get no love from the populous. If you're a woman and you get a cat, all of the sudden you're "lonely". Go ahead and toss that wedding ring into the pacific ocean honey, you'll be masturbating with your left and scooping Ben and Jerry's with your right in no time. And if you're a guy and get a cat - get the fuck out of here. You might as well dress the feline up a cutesy sweater that reads "I'm not gay but my owner is" while you're at it. There's too many stigma's attatched to cat ownership. It's just plain wrong, wrong I tell you.

Cats are so underrated.

Case and point, lets say someone named George gets a new dog and he's telling his friend named Bob. George is like, "Hey Bob, I got a new dog". Bob is like "Oh really, what kind?". George is like, "He's a Seberian Husky, purebread". Bob is like, "awesome man, really cool. Totally cool". But nobody asks "what kind?" if they hear someone got a new cat. You never hear,

George: "Hey Bob, I got a new cat"
Bob: "Oh really? What kind?"
George: "Um, he's a cat"
Bob: "Yeah that's wonderful George. But what kind of cat is he?"
George: "He's a cat Bob, what are you trying to get at?"
Bob: "Well they have different breeds of cats George. Cats come in many different breed and variety's"
George: "Jesus christ Bob, since when did this turn into 20 questions? I wanted a cat I got a cat. He has beige fur, tan if you prefer that nomenclature. He has olive eyes and a white patch on his tail. Oh wait! I remember what he is now. The lady behind the desk told me that he's Abraham fucking Lincoln re-incarnated, is that what you wanted to hear Bob?"
Bob: "Geez George no need to get so offensive"
George: "Then don't ask such stupid questions. What kind? Ooh what kind of cat is that? It's a fucking cat jackass"

Don't forget to have your pets spade or neutered, thanks.

Thursday, January 13, 2005

G Smoov Breaking You Off Nice and Proper

I've been a hermit all week long. Never bothered charging up my dead celly, I haven't left the house since Monday, I've been watching the Science Channel and the History Channel religiously, I've only masturbated like once so far, and I've been waking up around 3-5 pm on a daily basis. Sounds like Greg is sad. I assure you i'm not. And no (goddamnit), it's not because I haven't gotten laid, it hasn't been THAT long - I'm not becoming a priest anytime soon. And contrary to popular belief, I don't think getting laid is such a panacea. Unless you're a sailor. Because it may cure horniness but it doesn't cure life, and it may buff egos but it doesn't buff like, sadness. I'm talking about cheap sex at least. But like I said before, I'm a man of passion. EXTREME PASSION.

Don't say a word SS@S, don't say a word....

And let me just lay down a disclaimer right now. This post is in no way an offshoot or indicative of any sort of depression, low self-esteem, or lack of passionate sex. Although my life currently lacks passionate sex, we are talking about biology here. Chemicals gone awry due to environmental and internal factors beyond my control and unknown as of this moment. And no, this is not denial talking.

And don't get me wrong, cuz I love people. Looove em. I think people are the greatest invention since the dinosaurs. Just feeling a tad bit hermetic. It's just the way my shit works.

I got some more wierd shit going on with me. I almost shed a tear watching a special on the tsunami tragedy. Can't you believe that shit? Almost shed a motherfucking tear. Usually i'm a cold, heartless bastard who laughs in the face of tragedy. I think i'm turning gay. Yeah, definately turning gay. Maybe my GQ apparel has rubbed me the wrong way. In the comment section just the other day Texas_gurl (hope you don't mind me putting you on blast) was talking about us lowering our flags half-staff in response to the tsunami victims. She didn't exactly agree with that move. What kind of gay shit spewed out of my mouth? And I quote, "An unfathomable amount of people just died... I've always been one of those people who gets upset when people mention shit like, "oh yeah, and 400 Americans died". Because once again i'm not a symbolic person and "American" is just that - something that helps us forget we're all human when it comes down to it". I don't say that kind of shit!! Do i really have a sweet, non-pessimistic side that I should no longer ignore and finally embrace?

Embrace these two nuts motherfucker.

Wednesday, January 12, 2005

The Best of Me? Could you be anymore pretentious?

I was reading my older posts today, trying to figure out whether the quality of my blogs have gone downhill or up. I'm gonna pat myself on the back as far as quality control goes, although my blogs back then were a bit different. They were rant sessions, pre-meditated attempts at being funny. I mainly tried to use my site as a podium to express my disdain towards dumbasses, supernatural belief, bad teenage poetry, conventional wisdom, etc. But anyways, I saw one post that I am particularly proud of. It was a good old fashioned goth bashing. I wrote it before I really had any readership, so it went criminally overlooked. So in a very pretentious move, if i do say so myself, i'm gonna repost this old gem from October 13, 2004, because I don't feel like writing today. So here you have it, the best of me!

Hey everybody, I'm a self-deprecating bundle of misdirected teenage angst!

I wrote a little poem today. Although i can't say I actually wrote it - I was merely a catalyst of profundity, as if the words were already arranged in some elusive lode of objective truth waiting to be mined. Well I mined baby, and this shimmering nugget of wisdom was digested on paper as of today: Wednesday of October 2004 or some shit. It goes a little something like this:

too bright...



Fucking brilliant. Listen to me you little goth quacks, I know you hate life. Life is a bitch sometimes, it'll kick you in your nads and raise your voice a whole octave... and while you plead with it to stop stomping on your nads in that high pitched tenor squeak you call a voice, it'll stomp on your nads some more, until you don't even give a shit that your balls are mangled beyond repair cuz you can't even muster up enough care in the first place to give a fuck about a fuck - cuz life will get you that down.

And you know what? That pain from your nuts may travel up your sides, penetrating your kidney and perhaps make you wanna puke. You know what you do then? Fucking puke, you'll feel much better. But you little shits aren't puking and moving on. When I puke, i wipe my mouth, gargle some water, clean off my shoes, and move the fuck on. But no, you guys are hobbling around grabbing at your balls like "oooh no, life kicked me in the balls, let me just savor this fucking pain... I hate myself so much, this pulsating pain that has resonated in my now-unidentifiable ballsack for years is the perfect nervous system accessory to go along with this self-deprecating pile of flesh and disgust I call a life".

What about when your pimpled ass has to get a job, what then huh? Oooh nooo, conformity. Pleeease, Mr. Normal, anything but conformity... You pathetic little turd. The only people that should be allowed to dress in all black are bonafied fucking ninjas... or priests. Hey kid, why don't you do yourself a favor and do what the song says... ya know, that one that's like "GRRRRRRR WRAAAAA KIIILLL YOOUR PAAARENTS GRRR WRAAAA". But lets spice things up a bit, before you do that, off yourself. Ya little freak of nature, you're not a church in the 14th century, the whole goth chapter of history has been closed. But you continue to give outcasts a bad name, I thought that could never be done...

Monday, January 10, 2005

Cornocopia of Love

I don't see nuthin wrooong
With a lil, bump n griind

Shiet Greg sing it brothah

I don't see nuuthin wrooooooong (Ooooh)
With a liiil, buump n griiiieend (Hey baby)

You heard the man. R. Kelly sees nothing wrong with bumping and grinding. Yeeep, bumping and grinding entails no serious moral implications. Go ahead, bump a little. Show her a lil grindy grind. Don't stop, keep going. You're a boat my friend, keep rocking. Now give her a little nibble on the nipple. Yeeah thats it. You're an animal right now, act like one. Oh, ya heard that? Your name is Daddy. Now slap her ass. I'm sorry. I've gone off on a little tangent, I tend to do that. For a quick second I felt like being a late night smooth jazz radio host who doubled as a motivational speaker at the same time. I'm not horny. I'm not thinking about sex (the act not the person, nor the act with the person, she's taken...) I swear it!

So i'm tremendously happy that I found the cure to my ADD (Asian Drinking Disorder). All I gotta do is pop some Pepcid AC about an hour before I"m about to consume alcoholic beverages and I can drink like a fish without turning bright red, as if a tomato were eclipsing the sun. But I had the worse hangover in my entire life Sunday morning, and I even drank 2 glasses of water the night before. That trick didn't work. I'm beginning to think water is good for absolutely nothing, despite what anybody says. "Oooh drink alot of water its so good for you. Its so good for you. It's sooo good for you". It's water for fucks sake, how good can it be? It isn't exactly choc-ful of essential vitamins and last time i checked the nutrition facts, it had no nutrition. That's kind of the point, its water. It's like air, but liquid instead. It makes you pee, hurr-fucking-ray. If people went around saying, "drink orange juice, its so good for you" now that I can see. But shut the fuck up about the restorative benefits of water for now, it only made my puke taste that much better in the morning and at least for that I'm thankful.

So my profiles views surged this week. I don't know where all the hits came from, because I not real big on marketing myself, so I'm left to conclude that I'm riding the coattails of SS@S's recent rise to fame and her little commentbox extravaganza. See? It's not about what you know, its who ya know. But I'm just gonna let you all know, I'm just as starved for comments as her. I haven't gotten laid in a while, so some comments would be nice. And I've also noticed my tone is a bit more politically correct, less pissed off, more conversational, less offensive than before. This is worrisome to me. Now all of the sudden, I'm considering other people's "feelings", and "thinking" before I "say". Either I'm maturing as a person, or i'm selling out. I refuse to believe that I'm somehow growing up as a person, and that I've found some sort of inner peace with the things around me. That's fag talk. I'm starting to sell out. And I think I only still have like 1 or 2 readers. I've sold out for 2 people. Hell yeah, my soul is worth nothing, as you can see by my selling it so damn quick.

Thursday, January 06, 2005

All the ugly people, where do they all come from?

From China, that's where they come from.

In LA I guess I'm considered moderately attractive (since sex got the ball rollin on this vanity talk i'll hop on the bandwagon). I turn heads from time to time, I get some double looks, occasionally i get a down-up and if i'm lucky i'll get a smile. Grandma's seem to love me, waitresses are quick to refill my coffee, I look especially decent in dim light and I've been told on more than one occasion by more than one person that i have a good "aura". Whatever the fuck that means. I may not be as hot as this champ right here (I think i went through a bit too much trouble finding that damn pic. Lets just say i'm lucky to be secure with my sexuality, AKA hederosexuality), but i'm definately hotter than this pup, so you all get the idea. Basically I get by here in LA.

But in China I was a fucking supermodel. I guess Einstein was right about his whole Theory of Relativity. If a moderately attractive person finds him or herself amid a sea of ugly chopstick wielding Ching Chong Choopas, then his or her attractiveness rises in reciprocal relativity to the ugliness he or she is accompanied by. Or at least I think thats what he said. I love it when ugly people make me hotter. I was like a decent chic who loved her ugly friend because of the beauty by contrast, except in this case, I had 1.6 billion ugly friends so that made me even more delighted. I had those asian chics giggling like schoolgirls. They had their tiny hands over their mouths all nice and proper, laughing at me as if i had toilet paper stuck to my shoe or something. But instead of having toilet paper stuck to my shoe I was hot.

And let me tell ya, it was really on my agenda to get laid over there, because the sightseeing just wasn't giving me an erection. I mean, how much easier could it be? I was an American supermodel. My only obstacles were,

1) the language barrier (Or maybe it could be like in the movies. I smile, she smiles, we're fucking)
2) finding the right opportunity.
3) finding someone who wasn't ugly.

Number #3 proved hardest of them all. I figured I would run into some cute American broad and we'd be thrilled to see each other. "You speak English? Me too! Wow we have alot in common". Then we'd go off and have delicious sex in light of our similarities. Well, I ran into a somewhat decent chic from New York at this area called Lai Kwai Fong, it was this place with alot of bars. I offered to buy her a drink and she politely refused. I was a bit stunned to say the least. Was she rejecting me or did she just not drink? Well, we got to talking right after so apparently it wasn't the latter. I started to analyze her because for fucks sake, THIS BITCH DONT" DRINK! Either she was a hardcore Christian or an ex-alcoholic. It didn't matter either way because in the end of it all, inebriation and sobriety aren't exactly peas and fucking carrots. So i went to go look for cheaper beer. Then I called it a night and fell asleep on one of the tables in the bar. Don't worry I wasn't by myself this time. That fantasy has yet to be fullfilled.

So imagine my dismay stepping off the plane when i got back to LA. My inner soul was just crying out, "loooooook at meeee, please someone just look at me! I'm was a former supermodel I swear it!" Oh well, maybe mediocrity doesn't attract stares but I still look pretty young, which can only mean I'll look that much younger when i'm old. And perhaps when I get to the age where my facial skin no longer looks like it was taken from a baby's ass I'll be considered hot. But for now, all I know is this: I can't grow a beard, and I'm reeeally having a hard time with these sideburns. My barber cut them off last time. That dumbass. Those weren't stray hairs they were my attempt at growing sideburns thank you very much. Another 6 months of cultivation, that's all I fucking need. But then again, I"m asian.

Wednesday, January 05, 2005

Hey everybody, just keep dreaming and maybe your wildest wishes will come alive!

So i've been doing some thinking about my complete and utter lack of ambition. Where does it come from? Am I to be blamed for it? Do i make up for it in charm at wit? Well I'm soooorry for being uninspired, lethargic, lazy, apathetic, passive, unassertive, a dallydill, bum-like, indolent, a sofa spud, born with a proclivity to procrastinate, too easily bored, too easily amused, its not like i chose to be all of the above. The only choice I've made is a lack of one thereof, the choice to not become all gung-ho ambitious. Well in that case I"m sooorry my body doesn't crank out methamphetamine for a living. I would need a sizeable amount of ambition to all of the sudden overcome my lack of ambition, so not only am i back to square one but it has a couch and I'm sitting on it with a fucking beer in my hand. Where's my red hot poker in the ass when i need one? Please someone, anyone, just poke me in the ass. Cmon, just a like pokey poke. Will someone please just ram that poker in my ass!?

Yeah, and there's a herd of pansy fucks out there who would get mad at me for justifying my very own laziness. These are the types of people who say shit like, "Reach for the stars and your wildest dreams will come true!" These people need to wrap their tongues up in condoms before they catch AIDS for being so damn GAY. Try spoutin that Tinkerbell mumbo jumbo to little Mungambi Mombatu in Somolia, he just caught malaria off his own mother's breast milk. Sometimes it just ain't in the cards. Hey, but its not like i'm making excuses for myself, or trying to pass the blame. I'm saying don't blame me so much in the first place goddamnit! Fuckit, sympathize with me. Feeel my plight.

I'm lazy. I'd rather watch Suzanne Summers and the toning power of the thighmaster than get up to grab the remote. I don't eat toasted bread unless its toasted for me. The prospects of toast is delicious to me but if it requires bringing out the toaster I'd rather take my bread like Jesus; fucking plain, cuz i'm lazy bitches. As a matter of fact if there ain't nobody to make me food just call me Ghandi cuz i'll be one starving motherfucker. Screw fasting for a cause, I'm just too lazy. I pee on sidewalks I don't look for no bushes. I let the dog walk his own goddamn self. I buy seedless watermelon. I like all the work being done for me.

But anyways, maybe i'll snap out of it. 99% of the population thinks they're lazy but when i say i'm lazy I mean i'm LAZY. But I have myself to blame right? I"ll just follow my dreams!!!

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

The day the world was shat upon

You gotta love all the doomsday talk sprouting up after this tsunami incident. Nah, you just gotta love doomsday talk in general. They're really doing us a favor, letting us know about the impending doom of humanity and all. Thank you very much you religious freaks, I'll make sure to dress up extra warm when i leave the house from now on. Because anytime now God might decide to punish me for all the countless sperm cells i let drift down the drain, or for that one time i laughed at a retarded kid cuz it looked like he was playing hide-n-go-seek with his tongue. What ever happened to just the plain old fact that people die, because the earth needs to live? The earth is gonna do what it needs to do to survive, just like we need to fart and piss to go on. It's a simple fact of life, everything pees and poos, sometimes its just in metaphorical terms.

And how egotistical is it to talk about the end of the world, when its really just the end of mankind? "Oh my Lord its the end of the world". No its the end of humanity you little turd, the world will go on. Everything will stay the same, cept for us. We're really not THAT special, Jesus may have walked on water but if he pissed in the wind i'm sure he'd still get wet. Okay I don't know what that means, but you catch my drift.

And i'm real sorry this whole tsunami thing happened, but I wish people would leave God out of it. So wuts the deal, if less than 50,000 people die its a natural disaster, if its 50,000 + its God punishing us? Why is God punishing a bunch of third world nations? You'd think the first place on his naughty list would be Las Vegas or Tara Reid's vagina. And isn't it kind of a contradiction to say God is punishing humanity, then mourn the dead at the same time. That's like total beaten wife syndrone (BWS) all the way. "Awww God you little devil you, killing all those innocent people and whatnot, still love ya cutie, smooches... WHYYYY IS THIS HAPPENING? Do as you please God my will is yours. 160,000 DEAD YOU"RE FUCKING ME". But oh well, to the wind to the wind... To the wind goes my urine.

Sunday, January 02, 2005

Me so hoorny, me love you long time.

Hewroo Ewerybordy, I am back from China. I am officially deeming Chinese as being the ugliest language on the planet, I'm having trouble pronouncing my L's because apparently hearing too much butchered Engrish has rubbed off on me. On top of that I am officially deeming all those people in China as being the ugliest bunch of bastards on the planet. Well, okay maybe the second ugliest bunch, India seems takes the curry cake. But goddamn, never has my sex drive been so understimulated in my life. Here I am thinking I'd come back from Asia with some newfound fetish for yellow flesh. Now I'm thinking I'd rather jerk off to a white wall. Actually I did jerk off to a white wall. See the thing is, they're so busy stirring their bowls of noodles that they forgot to stir up the gene pool, so not only are they exact replicas of each other, but its a friggin incest-fest over there. No wonder they're so damn ugly and all need glasses. Ya see, Quan fucked Quan fucked a Quan fucked a Quan, then some Quan got rebellious and changed his named to Chang but lest we forget its all the same family? Yes folks, there is a reason why they all have the same last name - they all come from the same unadulterated batch of semen... Or at least thats my theory.

But anyways I"ll cut to the chase. Not so many highlights, I didn't get much alone time so I didn't have much time to get into trouble, but I did make out with a Hong Kong hooker. Okay wait its not what you think. Okay its exactly what you think, but i was drunk damnit.

See the drinking age over there is 18 and even that is just a suggestion, and it has always been a fantasy of mine to sit alone in a bar and drink with a I-just-broke-up-with-my-girlfriend look on my face, as I smoke a cigarette, just like in the movies. So I goto the bar across from my hotel and order a beer. I didn't want to talk to anyone, I just wanted to fullfill my fantasy and stumble back to my hotel room because I had to wake up early the next morning. About 30 seconds into this process some asian chic in the bar comes and sits next to me. Damn, fantasy over. We spark up small talk. I tell her I was from LA, she tells me she's from Taiwan. There's alot of hookers in Taiwan. Then her friend, or should i say "partner in crime" comes over and starts giving me a back massage. A really good one too. The chic I was initially talking to starts rubbing my thighs. She was like, "you cold? I warm you up". Meanwhile the female bartender starts telling me how nice my skin is, and how nice my eyes are. I'm feeling nice. I'm being caressed by two relatively cute asian females, I'm being dished compliments by the chic serving me drinks, I'm drinking my beer, I'm smoking my cigarette, and eventually I get to thinking this is better than my lonely-man fantasy... and where the fuck are my palm leaves and grapes?

But then the chic to my left leans in for a kiss. Okay more like lunged. Now lets take a time out, choose your own adventure, if you will: What should I have done? Dodged and kept my dignity intact, or allow myself to make out with a Hong Kong hooker? Well, she smelled good, so I allowed her to vacuum my tongue right out of my mouth. Hey, gotta try everything at least once right? Okay we kind of sorta started going at it. I kept telling myself she wasn't a hooker, just some chic who really wanted me. If its any conselation she really DID want me, I swear! Then I snapped out of my drunk hedonistic urges and pulled away. I told her I had to go. She was like, "take me with you". I was like, "no, I gotta go". She was like, "why you got to leave me, you make me so horny!". I'm not making this up people. She was practically clawing at me, telling me not to leave. I don't know if she really wanted my business, or just really wanted a young American chap to clean her pipes, but i'll keep telling myself it was the latter. I was gonna ask her for a fuck on the house, because afterall I have no morals. But ultimately I followed my intuition and walked back to my hotel room alone. She would have fucked me for free. Yeah... totally.