Classic Ass #006: Life Lessons/Observations

Every Saturday, one of us will post a blog post from our past in order to let you really get to know us... and laugh at us. Over the past century or so, I posted many a small life lesson/observation. Here are some of my favorites:

==================================

How to Tell If Your Vegetarian Girlfriend Has Been Sneaking Meat:

-You discover a treatise on her laptop entitled "the benefits of venison."

-She receives a lifetime-achievement award in the mail from the American Beef Council.

-At the deli, she purrs, "Hey there, killer," to the counter boy.

-She begins to display inappropriate signs of aggressiveness, like repeatedly shouting, "In your face, buddy," during a round of mini-golf, and giving the bird to a flock of actual birds.

-You overhear her tell the waiter to "make it bloody."

==================================

Apples and oranges aren't that different, really. I mean, they're both fruit. They both contain acidic elements. They're both roughly spherical. They serve the same social purpose. With the possible exception of a tangerine, I can't think of anything more similar to an orange than an apple. If I was having lunch with a man who was eating an apple and, while looking away, he replaced that apple with an orange, I doubt I'd even notice. So how is this a metaphor for difference? I could understand if you said, "That's like comparing apples and uranium," or "That's like comparing apples and the early work of Raymond Carver," or "That's like comparing apples with hermaphroditic ground sloths." Those would all be valid examples of profound disparity. But not apples and oranges. In every meaningful way, they're virtually identical.

==================================

It's funny that pirates were always going around searching for treasure, and they never realized that the real treasure was the fond memories they were creating...

==================================

Some people sky dive, other people bungie jump. Me, I drive to the store without my cell phone. Yeah, that’s right, I’m a rebel. Sure, something could happen to me. Sure, my car could break down and while walking to the nearest pay phone I could trip and break my leg, making my tele-pay transaction nearly impossible. But you know what, I’m a risk seeker. I laugh at the face of death… or at the risk of being mildly inconvenienced. Sure, I could be driving to Wendy’s to pick up a hamburger for a friend and then he suddenly changes his mind and wants a salad instead. I take the risk of being mildly inconvenienced each and every time I step outside my house without a cell phone.

==================================

I'm looking for a girl who's capable enough to assist me in the moderate task of conquering this planet and enslaving its populace simply because I don't want to have to do it by myself. Obviously, she'll have to be able to fit into the boots that will brutally crush all who would dare oppose us and our enlightened leadership, because if we do it lovingly together, it sets a good example for those among the cowering masses who manage to survive the Great Purges of the burgeoning Era of Pain. Because, hey, I believe in family values.

I've got a couple of candidates in mind. We'll see what happens...

==================================

THINGS I'D RATHER DO THAN GO SEE THE MOVIE 'CATWOMAN'

-Build a sandcastle for the sole purpose of having it kicked in my face.

-Fall from a reasonably high ledge.

-Be really really really ridiculously good looking.

-Have a new STD that makes angry hornets spontaneously generate in my anus, and it's caused by masturbation.

-Rip a dollar bill into three unequal pieces.

-Come down with a sickening case of leprosy, then constantly sing the old Kermit the Frog classic 'Its Not Easy Being Green' just because the irony makes me chuckle.

-See a lost puppy slowly freezing to death at 5:11 a.m. on Christmas.

-Wake up very early and go running.

==================================

The main difference between humans and robots is that robots will ultimately turn on their creators and destroy the human race, whereas all we'll do is beg God for mercy while they're splitting open our skulls and digitizing our babies.

See you in church, suckers.

Read More...

Shrink...

How To Tell A Swissman From A Frenchman

My last name is Coincon. To the uninitiated, Coincon is a rather hard name to pronounce, and the cidilla under the second C doesn't help matters. Most people mangle the pronounciation horribly and then cry "OMG, is that French?!?!?1/1?" I am usually able to keep from crying after such an accusation, but not always. The sauce helps.

Despite outward linguistic appearences, I'm actually Swiss. That's right, Swiss. I would make disparaging remarks about the French at this point to drive the point home, but my people are renowned for their neutrality. And chocolate. Therefore, in an attempt to stave off future traumatic experiences, I have compiled (see: pulled From Out My Ass (FOMA)) this list of ways by which the layperson may easily distinguish between a proud, versatile Swiss monolith and loathsome, cowardly French vermin. Note for the record how diplomatically I presented that last statement.

1: Observe your Subject at dinner.
-If he has before him a heaping plate, comprised of hearty, man-portioned representatives of every food group, to include the oft-maligned Beer, the Subject is a Swissman.
-If the Subject's plate looks to contain only a few patches of what might be mold from a distance, fit only to provide sustainence for small infant females or perhaps dormice, yet beside the ill-washed plate is a glass of wine so disproportionately large that one could conceivably use it to drown the aforementioned small infant female slash dormouse, the Subject is a Frenchman.

2: Observe your Subject after his morning shave.
-If the Subject's post-shave jaw is of a definative statuesque caliber, fit for crushing various rocks or gouging the eyes of the Subject's various nemesees, the kind of stony, confident chin that makes one fear for the continued verticality of any wall impeding the Subject's path, the Subject is a Swissman.
-If, despite the best efforts of myriad razor-like implements, the Subject's weedy countenance retains a pathetic, shadowy line of hair just above his upper lip fit only for bringing disdainful tears of mirth to the eyes of small infant females, the Subject is a Frenchman.

3: Ask your Subject for the time.
-If he promptly provides it to within two decimal places of millisecond precision from an exquisite timepiece that looks able to withstand a nuclear blast and still blind onlookers with its radiance, the Subject is a Swissman.
-If he holds his wrist up to the light in a vain attempt to improve the shadow resolution on his crudely hewn sundial of lower forearm ornamenture while stuggling to breathe and check the time simultaneously, the Subject is Canadian. *NOTE: A true Frenchman would have fled at the sound of your voice.*

4: Inquire as to the Subject's country's major exports.
-If the Subject lists such items as exquisite chocolates, badass army knives, sub-freezing levelheadedness, and prehensile phallusees, the Subject is a Swissman. And you should give him your number. Don't deny yourself an ironclad transcendant experience.
-If the Subject lists such items as smelly cheeses, self-fellatizing films, and capitulation, the Subject is a Frenchman. And likely speaking from behind the nearest available cover (see: method 3).

5: At a crowded party, fire a pistol into the air.
-If the Subject immediately rips off his T-shirt, waves it in the air as a makeshift white flag, and cedes the Bordeaux region to you in perpetuity, the Subject is a Frenchman.
-If the Subject bears the nearest attractive female to the ground, shields her with his body, and whispers softly in her ear "You are safe now, cherie" while simultaneously caressing her with his previously established elephant-trunk-esque wang, causing the female to moan lustfully and rip off HER T-shirt, the Subject is not only Swiss but probably also Cajun.
-If the Subject was already weeping in a corner over the accumulated facts that she is a) being ignored completely by every male at the party; b) built more solidly than most of the males at the party; and c) has more facial hair than most of the males at the party, the Subject is Canadian. Or possibly East German.

Keep these tips handy (in addition to a pistol) and you will never be caught in a Swiss/French faux pas. And hopefully I will stop crying myself to sleep at night.

Read More...

Shrink...

Four Constants in Life: Birth, Taxes, Death and...

The Red Ring. But not just any red ring, the xbox 360 red ring of death!
That is Chad. Chad is sad. Why, you ask is Chad sad? Well Jimmy, see those red lights on that 360? Do you know what that means? No? Well you should by now, it's all over the internets. Has been for going on two years now. This is the xbox red ring of death.

Poor Chad is on his second xbox that just red ringed a week ago. I gave him that picture and left him with this note, "I am sorry for your recent loss. Here is a picture that I imagine is 100% true and not doctored in any form of shop that edits photos, in what happened when your loss occured." Let's face it, a red ring is kind of like a death in the family isn't it?

The cause of the red ring has been under scrutiny for some time now but the fact of the matter is, when (a matter of when, not if) it happens, it sucks. You are usually left without a 360 for about two weeks. This would be slightly more acceptable if this were his first xbox. Now, I understand some people are on xbox number 4 and 5, but when you receive a brand new (see: refurbished) xbox 360 a year and a half after release, you tend to expect the bugs to be worked out.

Now, as everyone no doubt already knows, MS has finally sucked it up and "admitted" a fault on their behalf with their extensions of all warranties to three years. Don't get me wrong, I love my xbox. After my skin eye of the original, the 360 won my heart over. Well, that and the fact that the competition isn't quite up to snuff yet. I only mention ps3 there because the Wii is in a league of it's own. Nightly games of Gears of War and Call of Duty 4 dance in my head as I dream.

In one respect I envy him... That bastard will get a new xbox... equipped with an HDMI port... and for that I hate him. Also, does anyone else find it intresting that a red ring signifies a problem on the 360 and a blue screen signifies a problem in windows? What's next?

Read More...

Shrink...

Classic Ass #005: Feeling Homeless

After having a rough week, month, YEAR; I decided to just have some warm, soothing tea to accompany my sad, cold soul. I heart tea.

I scrummage through our cabinet (not just any cabinet, a METAL cabinet), and lo and behold, COFFEE. I thought, "Coffee sounds really good right now." With a huge grin on my face, I take the box off the shelf.

The label reads CAPPUCINO, but the rest of the box is in Chinese. The foreign Chinese characters should've been my first sign to stick to my tea. (I only know the basics; apparently I flunked out of Chinese school due to my tardiness; totally due to my family's lateness, not me!). But, I'm Asian, so crazy lines and shapes don't scare me!

My mom and sister are coffee lovers. But, my mom is hardcore. She pretty much drinks it straight up with very little sugar; but sometimes, her sweet tooth gets the best of her and she mixes in some condense milk or milk/sugar or cream/sugar. Excitedly, I get the water going on the stove, I grab my cup, spoon and marshmallow (yes, marshies are for chocolate milk, but I don't care! Not today anyways!).

Now, my second warning should've been the realization that this is INSTANT 'Cappucino' mix.

Any of you know any good, delicious instant coffee mixes!? I do! There's so many that's it's ridiculous! Is it good for you? Probably not, but it doesn't matter! It's coffee!!

The water is boiling hot by now, so I shut off the fire, pour half a cup of water into my cup, take out a package mix, rip it open and pour the contents in. I watched as the contents slowly melt and dissolve until it reaches its desired equilibrium. Mmm, coffee. Fresh (pretend fresh) coffee. I pour in the rest of the water and begin to stir the mix. I tasted the coffee, and it's kind of bland. "Do I need to put other stuff in it?," I wonder.

Stir, stir, stir, stir, stir, stir, sip, stir stir stirstirstir sip. Hmmm, this tastes o-k. Coffee drinkers, you know you have to sniff your 'fresh' brewed coffee because hot coffee smells good!! There's just something comforting about hot coffee.

I tilt my head down and sniff, sip. Sip, sniff. "Hmmmm, what's that weird smell." Sip, sniff, sniff sniff. "There, that weird smell again; it smells familiar." Sniff sniff sniff sniiiiiiifff, sniff sniff. sniff.

"GROSS!!!!!!!"

I toss the coffee down the drain and made myself a Folger's instant coffee with condensed milk and marshmallow.

Can you guess what it smelled like??

PEE. Not just any pee. Not the kind where you drank so much coffee that your pee smells like coffee. Not the kind from your pet hamster because you're too lazy to clean the cage. It smells like the kind where you walk passed a homeless person and you can't help but smell the urine on him because the stench somehow creeps through your nostrils and fills your nasal cavity even though you hold your breathe.

So there you have it folks. I drank pee coffee.

Read More...

Shrink...

What They Don't Teach You In School

School, for many, will take up, waste, and educate us for most of our lives. But, who really learns anything from school? Most of us tune out what happens from K-12 and even in college. Why? Mainly because their teachings come from textbooks. We grimace at the words of 'homework' or 'read chapter 5'; mainly because we picture this large textbook suffocating our lives.

As you know, textbook language is like a secret code. You have to actually think to process what you just read. See? You had to reread that sentence, right? When you decipher this code, you feel an enlightenment has come over you. Like a, "Hallelujah" moment.

Well, I'm here to bring you more "Hallelujah" moments; moments of 'never heard before', moments of pure reminders, moments of 'holy no way!', and just pure moments about life and everything in it. Because, we all deserve more "Hallelujah" moments even if we are dumb as a door knob or sheltered like a caged hamster.

Hallelujah moment #1: Five reasons why you shouldn't bully others.

5) You have to deal with 'authorities'
4) A voodoo doll of you exists--which explains all that pain in your groin
3) The bullied will end up being your boss and they'll make you pay then!
2) Karma is a bitch.
1) Columbine/Virginia Tech #22910 will happen

No matter how much fun we think it is, in the end, you'll pay a price. Like idiots, you all wish to only reach #5 and never #1; but it never works out in your favor, does it?

Moments Poem #1

Sad
bully of mine;
you died
but,
no one cried.

Read More...

Shrink...

Tuesday Top Five on Wednesday: Return Edition

Welcome to the long demanded, never reprimanded return of the Tuesday Top Five on Wednesday! Each week (or when I don't forget), I will present at least one top five list on Wednesday for you to mull over, agree with, disagree with, or ignore completely! It is the Tuesday Top Five because alliteration is always fun. But I present it to you on Wednesday because Wednesday should not be shunned just because its the longest word of all of the days.

My Top Five Current Weaknesses

5. Bears
4. Large Russians
3. Words that begin with the letter x that aren't xylophone
2. Dakota Fanning
1. Bullets

Honorable Mention: Pain, sharp objects, women

Top Five Nicknames For Someone Named Wesley

5. Wes
4. Wessles
3. Simply The Wes (dun dun dun dun, better than all the rest)
2. Leslie
1. Westicle

Read More...

Shrink...

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas to you and all yours. I hope everyone's day is going well and you got all the presents you wanted. And if you didn't get them, well then stop being naughty! Two lumps of coal for you. And maybe for us for not updating often... but this isn't about us, this is about YOU!

I will let our HJIC take care of the Hanukkah wishes.

Read More...

Shrink...

Classic Ass #004: Story Time

Every Saturday, one of us will post a blog post from our past in order to let you really get to know us... and laugh at us. I submit to you this week, a little story I threw together a few years ago. It's grammar is bad, and the spelling is worse, but hey, this is me, going out there, for you.

The wind had all but died on the dark, starless night. Two warriors stood, not making the slightest move, just 20 feet from each other in an open field of grass. The one on the right was dressed as a common magician. His dirty brown hair cut almost short waving in the wind as if trying to escape the impending doom. Covering his leather armor was his torn cloak, blowing feircely behind him. It was a light tan with an almost flame like darker brown along the rims. He wore a firey red dragon shaped crystal around his neck. His blue, almost glowing, eyes locked on his opponent.
On the opposite side stood a tall, dark warlock. The warlock apeared to have an obvious advantage over the mage for he was much bigger in size and mass. His armor also superior to the mages. It was a dark black the seemed to shine when the moon's bright light hit it just right. The warlock's face was hidden beneath the shadow of his helmet, but his glowing red eyes were easily seen.
The mage was determined to win this match. He rushed his opponent, nearly blind, sweat and blood running down his forehead, one hand tightly gripping his staff, the other conjuring a spell. He took a few steps to one side, teleported behind the warlock and unleashed a fire spell so powerful and at such a dangerously close range, it cause his glove to melt right off his hand and the area around him to turn a dark charred black. A sulfuric aroma filled the air as the mage fell to the ground. It was over. He had finally triumphed over the evil that had plagued the villagers of Fisuka for so long. No longer did they have to live in fear of the menace that claimed so many of their loved one’s lives. Exhausted, he raised his head to the sky, but what he saw next sent a shock throughout his body.
It was him! The Warlock! He had somehow managed to survive the attack and now he was not happy with the mage.
"That was not very nice Reid. You could've killed me there boy."
"I believe that was the intention you bastard!"
"Tsk Tsk, such language from a boy. Well then, I'll have to teach you to respect your elders. Prepare to receive your punishment!"
What am I going to do? Reid panicked. He had used the last of his strength in that attack. He could not possibly continue to fight. He was done for... the warlock rush him, swinging his sword back, preparing his energy for the final, death dealling blow. Just as the sword was about to reach his forehead, Reid though to himself, it's over... I failed you... I'm sorry. Then everything went black.



Elsewhere, the daughter of the Detusaki family was arriving at the docks of Vanguard. She wore a brilliant one hoop dress with floral designs on the skirt. Lucy was in the country for extra schooling due to the insistence of her mother. Being the daughter of such a wealthy family had it's benefits. She had everything she ever wanted... almost.
"Welcome to Vanguard m'lady. I apologize for having you arrive at such a run down area," said a man in black.
"It's quite all right Gregory."
By regular standards, Vanguard port was hardly run down. It was considered by most to be one of the more wealthy places this side of Vanguard. People were everywhere, things were clean to the point of shine, and the air was fresh. The port itself seemed to have a cheerfulness of it's own. There were nine other dock apart from their own, all with busy people either loading or unloading cargo and passenger ships. Everyone seemed to keep themselves busy either through work or socializing with others.
"I still feel bad about this... but it's the only port in the area."
"I said it's ok. I don't mind. I like to watch the common people. They are intriguing."
She sighed.
"Now lady Lucy, you know you are better than them. You come from a wealthy family of rich blood ancestry. You would do well to not associate with the likes of them. You know how your father feels about that subject," Gregory lead her toward their caravan.
"I'm no better than they are! Please do not talk about people like they are lesser than me just because they don't have as much money as my father."
"I am sorry m'lady, but it is true."
Lucy didn't acknowledge that she heard him. She hated people being looked down apon due to wealth and status. Rank was something that she never understood.

Vanguard was a splendorous city full of well-dressed, proper people. Buildings of piercing bright white shinned all over the town. All of the buildings were huge, but one seemed to stand out more than the others. Lucy assumed that was the mayor's office. This was certainly one of the most kept up cities this side of Hetroth. Lucy noticed that Gregory seemed to be relieved to be out of the "dirty" area of the port as he had put it. She wasn't sure why he thought that. The port looked just as brilliant as the rest of the city. The only difference was that the people in the port seemed to be lower class or laborers.
Gregory seemed to notice a saddened look on Lucy's face. "Cheer up m'lady. You should feel extremely privileged to be able to study abroad. Only the most important of people are allowed such an honor." He said that with such spunk and sence of proud ness, she almost felt bad to be upset.
"I know Gregory, but at what cost?"
"Money is no object with your fa-"
She cut him off, "That's not what I meant, Gregory! I meant that this has caused me to move so far away from my friends."
"A lady such as yourself has no need for friends such as those scoundrels! You need to surround yourself with people must more civil than them. And look at this place! This is most defiantly the place to do such!"
Lucy shook her head and sighed. Why does no one understand... As she enter the caravan and they departed, her thoughts soon turned to the ones she had left behind.



Reid awoke with a jolt. He was alive! Was it just a dream? He looked around the room not recognizing his surrounding at all. He moved to get up but a sharp pain shot through his arm and head. What's this? He though to himself. He had bandages on his forehead, left hand and right arm. "I-It wasn't a dream! But... how am I alive? I should've been..." Reid shook the thought from his head.
He looked around the dimly lit room once more. To his side was a nightstand with some bandage wrap, thread, scissors and some pins. "Someone must've had a hard time fixing me up... I can't imagine I was in any good condition." Reid heard someone coming towards the room. He lay back down and just turned his head.
As the door opened he heard a soft voice, "Oh, I see you are finally awakening. You've been out for quite some time. I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of patching you up"
Reid still couldn't quite see who it was. "Huh... oh. It's quite alright... Thank you. Umm. Do-"
"Oh, silly me, I'm sorry, I should have properly introduced myself. I am Velvadine Galandmyer." An older lady walked into the light to be seen. Though she was an older woman, it was apparent that her once youthful beauty had not yet left her completely. She had a few wrinkles here and there, but for the most part her skin was still quite fair. Her hair was a dark brown with hints of gray here and there. Her clothes seemed like they were at least a hundred years old, seeming quite worn from years of use.
"Um... Hello Velvadine, I am Reid."
"Just Reid?"
"Yes... I-"
"Don't worry about it. I can tell from the look on your face it is a saddening story. You don't have to explain."
"Thank you Velvadine. You apear to be quite wise"
"Some would say that. So what did you do to get yourself all torn up like that? It isn't good for someone to take so much damage to their body you know."
"I-I was fighting this warlock... Vladmir... He was terrorizing the village I have been staying at. I went to try and stop him... and I thought I had won... but it turned out I fell right into his trap... I thought I was done for but the next thing I know, I'm waking up in this bed all bandaged up."
"Strange indeed. We heard a commotion outside of our village so the men went to go check it out. When they got there they found you. Upon returning to town, they brought you to me. You were not a pretty sight. I have the gift of a healer, you see."
"You are a healer? Wow, I've never met one. Not that I can remember anyway..."
"Not that you can remember? A young lad like you shouldn't have a memory problem."
"Well-"
Just then a child ran into the room. " Mommie! Mommie! Is the man awake yet? He's not dead is he?" Reid looked at the little girl. She couldn't have been more than five. Her hair was long and dark with a shine.
Valvadine replied, "Yes, Jessica. He's finally up."
"Oooo! Hello!" Jessica waved and ran up to him. "How did you get so beat up mister?"
"Jessi!" Valvadine scolded, "Don't bother him while he's recuperating."
"Awww... but mom..." Valvadine shot her a look.
"It's ok ma'am. I don't mind. Hey there little Jessi."
Her face lit up. "Wow, you look like you were hurt a lot! But my mommie fixed you. She's the best! One day, I'll be as good as her!"
"Hehe. She's got quite a lot of energy."
"That she does," Valvadine replied.
"Would you like to see something neat Jessi?"
"Oooo! Really? What is it? Huh?"
"Hehe, see that candle on the night stand?"
"Uh-huh."
Reid pointed a finger at it and a tiny flame generated from the air and floated to the wick of the candle, lighting it.
Jessica was jumping up and down clapping. Valvadine just smiled.
"Woooooow! That was really neat! How did you do that?"
"Hehe, I'll tell you but it's a secret."
Reid whispered something into her ear and she laughed.
"Ok Jessi, go run along and play with Beslin and Tiffany," Valvadine said.
"Okay! I can't wait to tell them what Mr. Reid did!" And with that she ran out the room excitedly.

Read More...

Shrink...

Child's Play 2007

I am horribly horribly late in adding this to the page, but I added a banner at the top of the page to the Child's Play 2007 charity site. I feel this is a great charity to donate to, not just to show that gamers have a soft side too, but also because it just feels good to help children in need. It is a great charity, and I highly recommend you at least check it out. They are close to matching the amount of money they received last year and with our help, they can do that again. Once more, I apologize for being late on adding that.

Read More...

Shrink...

Classic Ass #003: Dragons, Magic and Excessive Spillage

Man it's been a while since anyone has posted. One this week. We must all be busy.

Every Saturday, one of us will post a blog post from our past in order to let you really get to know us... and laugh at us. Once again, as the glue that holds the writing on this blog together, I present you my second classic post. This was a little story I wrote called "Dragons, Magic and Excessive Spillage".

I wrote this story a few days after it happened. It was so unbelievable, I knew I had to immediately record it. Trust me, everything in this story is true.

So its July, a few weeks after my birthday and I was feeling a little low. Jack diddly was going on; there was a sense of nothingness around me. One day at work, this cute, cute girl named Megan came in to get some furniture through the finance company I work for. In no time, I found myself flirting with her. Now, I’ve been told I am a natural flirt, and I’ve been told I could have an eency weency itty bitty bit of charm, so if *I* am noticing that I've turned it on, I think I must be flirting pretty heavy. But she is reciprocating, so I keep going. At the end of our chat, we set a meeting for the next day so she can sign her contracts. The second she walked away, I started freaking out as to what to do. I was obviously smitten. Should I ask her out? Or do I not risk the rejection? The next day, I manned up, showed that ounce of confidence I can have and asked her to dinner.

She said no. She was taken.

BUT, she had someone she wanted to hook me up with. That in itself freaked me out because I had only talked to Megan for about an hour or so up until that point. But she was good looking, and I’m a guy (libido rules all!), so I said ok. Fast forward to date night. My date was a 20 year old 5’5” blonde with gorgeous fake green eyes (contacts) named Jessie Lynn (first/middle, not first/last name) that just moved back in with her parents in Bossier City (from Texas). The game plan was dinner at Ruby Tuesday’s then up the street to the Family Fun Center (think Celebration Station; go-karts, arcade, batting cages, putt putt, etc.). I’ve got a fresh fade; I’m rockin’ the gel; I’m rockin’ the contacts; I’m wearing this cool grey polo with some nice khakis; and dah-lin, I’m oozing machismo. My ounce of confidence has been multiplied by millions. I have a million ounces of confidence. A million. I go into the night thinking “first impression” and “if I fuck up, I’m never seeing her again, so why not have fun with it”. Boy did I not realize how ‘fun’ my night was going to end up.

Dinner started well. We introduced ourselves, I told a few jokes, I had her smiling. My ego, as you could guess, was inflating… until our waiter dropped my glass of water on my shoulder. He didn’t trip, he wasn’t carrying anything other than my glass of water, but somehow on the exchange from hand to table, it slipped out and right on my shoulder. I was doused. But I made a joke, laughed it off and I eased myself, the waiter and most importantly, my date. Dinner continued, and went fine… until, while cleaning our table, our waiter dropped her half-eaten plate all over her. She felt humiliated, especially because she could tell I was holding back a tidal wave of laughter. But I made another joke and eased the situation. Then, I did the cheap-o thing and weaseled out of there with a free meal, due to excessive spillage.

We went back to her place so she could change. She lived right by the restaurant so it was a short drive. I was sitting in the living room, waiting on her, when her parents came home from wherever they were. I immediately panicked, because that was one situation that could turn ugly quick. I was happy that they at least KNEW their daughter was on a date, and I was that guy, because random guy + empty house with daughter (generally) = pain, lots and lots of pain. But calmly, dad sat down on the chair next to the couch I was on, showing no signs of anger or malice. I was a little eased as I began to mentally prepare myself for the stereotypical, as-seen-on-TV “what do you want to do with your life” speech.

Instead, I got magic.

Her dad opened our conversation with “look what I found behind your ear” and pulled out a quarter. I was floored. He began to tell me about the wonders of magic. “Sleight of hand is the most powerful tool any man can have.” He pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket and showed me two magic tricks. I didn’t know how to react, so I just went along with it. Eventually, during the middle of trick #3, Jessie Lynn came down and stopped her dad. She was definitely embarrassed. She grabbed my arm as hard as she could and dragged me outside so we could go. On the way to the car, the conversation went a little like this:

Her: I’m soooo sorry. I think he had been drinking. My dad can be weird.

Me: Yeah, he is a little weird.

Her: You aren’t supposed to agree with me!

Me: Hey now, I only agreed because I know about weird dads. If that was my dad and you, it would’ve been worse.

Her: I doubt it. Your dad isn’t an amateur magician that likes to show off to his daughter’s dates.

Me: No, but my dad is an amateur drunk that likes to do hula dances for his son’s dates.

Her: (laughing) Hula dances? You can’t be serious.

Me: I’m not serious. (pause) He doesn’t drink.

Her: (laughing)

Me: But if he did….. (and I did some sort of drunken hula dance)

(While she laughs, we get in the car)

Her: Thanks, I feel a lot better. You really know how to run damage control.

(And then she kissed me on the cheek)

Me: JACKPOT!

(Yes, I did actually say jackpot out loud.)

-------

We laughed some more and made our way to the Family Fun Center. On the agenda there was go-karts, mini-golf and some friendly competitive arcading. We start with the go-karts. They were fast, fun and she whipped my ass. I don’t know if it was the karts having different speeds (which you know they do) or a natural NASCAR-like instinct that she had, but she lapped me. And I got to hear about that afterwards. But it was ok, cause I had planned on getting my win back at mini-golf. And it would feel oh so sweet.... except she dropped the ultimate bomb on me: “I’ve never played mini-golf before.”

?!? How in the…? How could she have never played mini-golf before!? But, I took that as the perfect opportunity for the classic ‘let me show you how to play’ move. So, still reeking of esteem, I set to slyly use this situation to my advantage. We make our way to the first hole. I did some cheesy ‘don’t stand like this’ poses that don’t really go over well, and hit a nice smooth shot. “See what I did, nice and easy,” I told her. She stepped up to the tee, placed her ball down and got ready to hit. I stood behind her contemplating if I should do the ‘get behind her and show her how to hold the club’ move (cause it's all in the hips), and right as I was deciding that I’m not THAT cool or smooth, she took a hard back swing…..

Right to the jewels.

I went down. Hard. Fast. I’ve been clobbered in the cahones before, but this clubbing couldn’t have come quicker and more compact. I had a lot of quick decisions to make. Do I curse? Do I grab my little buddy and shake him healthy? Do I ask her to kiss it and make it better? Do I ask for ice? Do I tough it out? Or do I talk in a really high voice to make fun of what happened? I, of course, chose the latter.

After brushing myself off, we finish all 18 holes with me DOMINATING! Unfortunately, every time I tried to gloat, she would make a “don’t make me nut shot you again” comment or gesture. So we had a good time making fun of it.

In a weird moment, as we were heading back inside, some girl shot Jessie Lynn a dirty look. I mean, it was a nasty, filthy look. I thought nothing of it as we headed inside.

So we started arcading. It wasn’t necessarily anything other than us trying to spend another 30 minutes to an hour having fun. We picked games that were simple (like skeet ball) to just get some more potential QT in. All things considered, all wackiness aside, it was going great for a first date. Near the end when we didn’t have any tokens left, we went to turn our tickets in. We had 115. Unfortunately, there was this cute little dragon she wanted that cost 150. Since we didn’t have enough, she decided to just go ahead and save the tickets and give them to her little brother. It was time for her to hit the bathroom and we would head back home. I had a different idea.

I sprinted to the nearest token machine and put a dollar in. I found the classic spin and stop light game (that I wish I could remember what it was called, I know you remember it, it has the little light bulbs that went around and had four stop buttons). I hit 8, 10, 10, 8. I sprinted back to the prize counter, turned in my tickets for the dragon and sprinted to the car to hide it. I don’t know how long she was in the bathroom, but when I walked back inside, she was walking around looking for me. I told her I ran to the bathroom too and we headed out.

When we got back to her place, we sat in the car and chatted. During the middle of a conversation about lord knows what, I reached behind her seat and pulled out the dragon. The look on her face was magical. I knew I was in. I knew the potential that we had there. I thought the night was mine. In fact, the exact thought that went through my head, “If for some reason this actually did end up being the girl I married, what a great story for our first date.” And even though everything was telling me no; even though my natural instinct is to shy away; even though you know I could NEVER make the first move; even though you know how absolutely scared I was; I decided I was going to go in for a kiss. I leaned in, closed my eyes, parted my lips and met her…

Plush.

I had kissed the dragon. What a dejection. My body immediately went numb. After such a wonderful night, I blew it by going against everything I know. I was a moron, I was an idiot. How could I even think that this girl could ever like me? How could I think I had a chance? My best is never even close. I was self-doubting, self-depreciating, self-loating, self-pitying…

“I’m a lesbian.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. But I’m a lesbian.”

“Wait… what?”

“I’m so sorry Chad. That girl that shot us the dirty look, that was my high school girlfriend. She stopped me in the bathroom and berated me because she felt like I was betraying her. And honestly, I felt a little like I was betraying myself. I’ve been a lesbian almost all my life. I’ve had two boyfriends, but never had sex with them. Near the end of high school I just found I was attracted to girls… When Megan set us up, she had been hounding me about trying guys. She’s been my best friend for years, and has always supported me, but she has always tried to get me to try guys. And then, on a whim, she called me up and begged me to go out with you. She said, ‘I found some guy you’ll love. Just give him a try. If you do this, I’ll stop bugging you about it.’ So I had to. I just wanted to get her off of my back… I’m soooo sorry. I wanted to tell you. I should’ve told you, but the night was going so well I—“

“It’s ok.”

We sat in an awkward five second silence until I chimed in.

“You know, at least I can take solace in the fact that Megan thought I could turn a gay girl straight. I mean, that’s a compliment in itself.”

“And you almost did it. I did have such a great time.”

“So did I.”

“We can still hang out. I’d love to be friends.”

“That would be alright with me. I mean, if I need someone to help me hone my drunken hula skills I know who to turn to.”

And she laughed. We exchanged a few more pleasantries; she got out of the car and went inside. I sat for a second in front of her house in silence. It was a helluva night. I drove home, still in sort of a stunned surreal state, not sure what to do next. I pulled up to my apartment, stepping inside, grabbed my bottle of Makers Mark whiskey and poured a glass. For the rest of the evening, I sipped on my glass watching The Office until I fell asleep.

And that may be the craziest, oddest night of my life.

Read More...

Shrink...

The Similes of Finals

The Similes of Finals is what you would like to call finals as it feels and pertains to you. What are finals? They're not just exams. They are more than that. They are pretty much what your life is, and in fact, they're this month.

10. Finals are like burnt toast, you were looking forward to it in the morning but it just have to be ruined.

9. Finals are like your mother telling you to clean your room, and you decided to do so but only superficially so everything looks nice but you stuffed most of your belongings under your bed. Your mother eventually decides to vacuum and upon seeing your junk all over the place, you get in trouble. In other words, please study so you won't have this problem.

8. Finals are like the smelly guy who decided not to shower or brush their teeth this morning to make it to the 9am exam because they decided to cram all night. Please, take care of your hygiene.

7. Finals are like ordering coffee from the new hip and chic cafe down the corner. There are so many options you go with your intuition. Yes, I bubble in my scantron - with intuition.

6. Finals sure are exams, but what are they exams of? They are exams of how well you read and how you interpret things. Thus, finals are like reading the opposite sex, you read or interpret them wrong and you get on their bad side (especially females). Finals are sure moody.

5. Finals are like rainbows (at least in my school). There are at least 8 different versions in 4 different paper colors.

4. Finals are like marathons. It's the end of the semester, the final stretch. You run and run and... oh crap there's next semester. Make this a decathalon until graduation.

3. Finals are the holidays. No, it's not because this occurs in December and we have X'mas around the corner, nor is it because it occurs in May/June and you have summer vacation (yes it's a holiday!). Finals are like holidays because they are special, they only occur once throughout a year. Just like the holidays, there is not enough time for them.

2. Finals are like playing football. You got a question right? SCORE! What? You're stuck at a question? Yea the question pwned you back a few yards. Well, this technically applies to any other sport too, but football is rather painful and I for one is a tiny gal so finals are like huge guys to me.

1. Finals are like fancy guys (or pretty women for you males). They present themselves in an eloquent, formal way with verbal elusiveness. They entertain you, capture your focus, and when you think you finally got them, they turn you down. Finals are like that, they play hard to get with your grade.

In the spirit of finals, here's a site Kura linked me on good eats for your brain during finals week: http://startcooking.com/blog/303/10-Tips-for-Healthy-Eating-During-Exams.

Read More...

Shrink...

Classic Ass #002: Alcohol

Every Saturday, one of us will post a blog post from our past in order to let you really get to know us... and laugh at us. Gerry thought it was going to be only him posting this, but then he promptly forgot the tradition he attempted to create. Once again, as the glue that holds the writing on this blog together, I present you my first classic post. This was a little story I wrote called "Alcohol".

Alcohol.

Nausea.

Dehydration.

Humiliation.

Pounding headaches.

Ah, the beauty of a Hangover.

You know how it is. The night before, you start with something light.

A glass of Cabernet at dinner.

A beer.

A couple of shots of Jaeger.

You’re sitting in the bar with your friends talking about the tight ass on the chick you went out with last night, bitching about your Neanderthal boss, staring at the waitress's ass, having a great time when said waitress comes back, leans over to show you her silicone udders, smiles and offers you another round of poison.

Sure, you’ll have another.

Why not?

You are gonna make it an early night anyway, got to get into the office tomorrow. Just one more and you’ll be in a cab, on your way home with a nice buzz in no time. Might as well make the last one a good one, so you order a nice Scotch.

Just as you’re taking your last sip, he walks in.

He goes by many names.

Tony, Mark, Matt, Bro- whatever alias he chooses for the night, his mission is clear: To get you loaded, stupid and in the worst shape possible.

The sonofabitch is grinning from ear-to-ear, but you know the deal. He’s the heavyweight champion of bad ideas, biting the ear off of any chance you had of leaving the bar in a respectable (or live) state.

Within minutes, you’re shooting the shit and remembering your hazing days. You are discussing one of your employee's gay tendencies when, what is this? Tequila shots!

You refuse.

He calls you a pussy.

You tell him to shut the fuck up. You can’t do tequila shots!

You have to work tomorrow.

He looks upset and hits you a little too hard for your liking.

You refuse again.

He questions your tolerance.

He insults your manhood.

Finally, he gets desperate. “It’s Patron” he says.

Translation: This round just cost me a good portion of my unemployment, dude.

What can you say to that?

You promise yourself you will be out of the bar in ten minutes, toast Satan himself and down the shot.

Fade to black.

The next morning, you awake to a wet, sticky pillow and what feels like a singeing laser burning your face?

Man, you are hot. Why are your clothes so musty?

You manage to get one eye open and then the other.

You want to get up, shut the blinds and turn on the AC, but something will not allow you to move.

Fear?

Pain?

The pounding of a sledgehammer in your head combined with the burning sensation in your esophagus?

Yes to all of the above.

Unable to learn from past mistakes, and who are we kidding? You have been here before.

You attempt to move. Your head won’t budge. Are you really trying? You think you are.

Again and again, you lift a little and plop your throbbing skull back onto a pillow covered in a gooey wetness you are praying is just drool.

Finally, you give up and close your bloodshot eyes and start praying for recovery. If God will just let you feel better, you swear, you’ll never do this shit again. Oh, and you’ll throw in no more hookers as an added bonus.

You know. This time you mean it.

Really. C’mon, it is an even exchange.

He gets to have you sober and whore-less for all eternity and you feel better.

Wait. What if you are already in Hell? Hell would definitely feel like this! Come to think of it, you are boiling! Feeling like you are about to gag, you start fantasizing about water.

Anything to stop hacking up all of those cotton balls.

Eventually, you roll yourself over enough to fall off of the bed, and after a good half-an-hour of hugging onto the floor while the room took you for a ride, you manage to pull yourself up.

You vomit.

You moan.

You fall.

You cry.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Unable to peel your semi-urine soaked pants off your body and desperate for relief, you crawl into the shower, half dressed and treat yourself to a good ol’ fashioned convict hose-down.

You are just not going to make it this time. You are not as young as you used to be. How did you make it through college?

Eventually you clean your sorry ass up and get dressed.

You order in some eggs, bacon, pancakes, hash browns, coffee and OJ from the Korean deli down the street and agree to pay them their thirty-dollar ransom. You drink your roommate's Gatorade (you’ll replace it) and lay on the couch, waiting for your greasy remedy.

The phone rings.

It’s Him.

Yeah, you know, last night was nuts.

Yeah, you kind of remember her coming in.

No, you don’t remember saying that.

Or that.

Oh shit, you definitely did not do that.

Suddenly, the wooziness returns and you are told to expect many-a-phone calls where random girls will be calling you a list of names that is reserved for an absentee father.

Yeah, as a matter of fact, your eye does hurt.

You hit who? What? Over a cab?!

You have to go.

This is too much.

You are done with drinking and with him.

It is time to grow up.

You were supposed to work today.

Overtime.

Catching up.

You hang up the phone and your food arrives.

You watch some "SportsCenter" and "Surreal Life". By six, you are feeling a lot better. By eight, you are back at 100%.

You are playing air-guitar to some Zeppelin when your old high school pal calls.

They are having drinks at the local hangout.

Naw, you’ll pass.

No, you drank last night.

You are just now starting to feel better.

Okay, okay.

“One drink,” you tell him.

“Cool,” he says, “I have to make it an early night anyway, I have to go into work tomorrow.”

Read More...

Shrink...

Read More...

Shrink...

Be a Ninja Day!

So today is National Be a Ninja Day. Ninja's are out parading everywhere. But the question is, will you find them? Do you want to find them? If a ninja finds you, you will die. It's a hard cold fact. Ninjas are very, very good at hiding and sneaking around. Chances are, the only time you'll ever see one in your lifetime is at the end of it. Because everyone knows you only see a ninja if he's already killing you.

Will you ever find this post? Do you really want to?

In the history of Japan, a ninja (忍者, ninja?) was someone specially trained in a variety of unorthodox arts of war. The methods used by ninja included assassination, espionage, and a variety of martial arts.

In the Japanese culture, they were usually trained for dangerous missions. Although their exact origins are still unknown, with some historians speculating about some Chinese origin or influence, it is known that they appeared in 14th century feudal Japan, and remained active from the Kamakura to the Edo period.Their roles may have included sabotage, espionage, scouting and assassination missions as a way to destabilize and cause social chaos in enemy territory or against an opposing ruler, perhaps in the service of their feudal rulers (daimyo, shogun), or an underground ninja organization waging guerilla warfare.

If you are reading this, you are already dead.

Read More...

Shrink...

Tuesday Top Five on Wednesday: The Name Edition

Welcome to the Tuesday Top Five on Wednesday! Each week, I will present at least one top five list on Wednesday for you to mull over, agree with, disagree with, or ignore completely! It is the Tuesday Top Five because alliteration is always fun. But I present it to you on Wednesday because Wednesday should not be shunned just because its the longest word of all of the days.

Top Five Weirdest Names (These are real names of real people)
5. Tarquin Fin-tim-lin-bin-whin-bim-lim-bus-stop-F'tang-F'tang-Olé-Biscuitbarrel, British political candidate self-renamed after a Monty Python character. Born John Desmond Lewis.
4. Mister Thorne, named because his mother figured (literally) that he'd become a high school geometry teacher when he grew up
3. Kentucky Fried Cruelty.com, PETA activist originally named Chris Garnett
2. Yorkshire Bank PLC Are Fascist Bastards, (see right side bar at link) Born Michael Howard but changed his name legally after being charged £20 for a £10 overdraft
1. Wolfe+585, Senior, (just click the link) the man with the longest name ever, including his first and all of his middle names beginning with a different letter of the alphabet.

Honorable Mention: Notwithstanding Griswold, Vista Avalon (Microsoft VP's daughter), States Rights Gist (Confederate general during the Civil War), Yahoo Serious (Writer/Director/Actor from Young Einstein)

Top Five Sexiest Sports Names
5. Irina Slutskaya, Olympic medalist and Russian figure skater
4. Ron Tugnutt, Former all-star NHL Goalie
3. Johnny Dickshot, played outfield in Major League Baseball from 1936 to 1945
2. Dick Trickle, one of NASCARs most famous drivers
1. Chubby Cox, played seven games for the Washington Bullets in 1982 and is the Uncle-in-law of Kobe Bryant

Honorable Mention: Assol Slivets, Olympic freestyle skier

Read More...

Shrink...

Lunch

Today, while I was enjoying my sandwich at the local sandwich and meats emporium, an indiscriminate man in his early 30s sat down next to me to eat his lunch.

I thought nothing of it.

Despite my nervous ticks and foul odors, people invariably end up picking me as their hour long lunch buddy. While most of these friendships remain mute, my new companion today spiced it up. "Wow, you look pretty down. Do you mind if I sit and talk with you?" He had my full attention. "I can tell just by looking at you that you're missing someone, some thing in your life. Whether you know it or not, I'm positive that Jesus Christ can help." We proceeded to have a 45 minute long conversation about What Christianity Can Do For Me.

Now, I don't know if I just looked exceptionally 'down' or if he had a quota to fill, but it was easily the tastiest lunch I've had in ages.

Read More...

Shrink...

For the record...

I would like it to be known that I do not, nor have I ever used pheromones. That is a flat out lie and I am appalled that someone would confuse me with Philis.

Read More...

Shrink...

NOT Pheromones

Did you know that human pheromonal usage is a huge crock? That's right: you may as well give your money to a rehabilitation clinic for Alabama bestiality addicts as spend it on any form of pheromone for any purpose. That INCLUDES the attraction of NON-humans, for you Alabamites out there.

To be honest, I'm not even sure "Alabamites" is a word. Alabamians, maybe? Never mind. The point is, don't fucking buy the stuff. However, I DO have well-documented evidence of GERRY'S pheromone usage... and believe me, it stinks.

Read More...

Shrink...

Classic Ass #001: Boring Olympics

Every Saturday, one of us (probably just me at first, but maybe I can convince the others to join in sooner, riiiight?) will post a blog post from our past in order to let you really get to know us... and laugh at us. Seeing how winter is right around the corner, I have the perfect post for you. Without further ado, I present, The Boring Olympics.

That's right. I said it. The Olympics are hella boring. The same thing every four years. Well, My I3D professor and a few of us have come up with ideas to make the Olympics much more entertaining. If you don't like these ideas... well too freaking bad. They are awesome, as are we. We are great. Now, on with the suggestions.

First off, the luge. They should have 4 starting points that merge about 1/5th the way down. As if that wasn't enough, hockey sticks should be given to the luggers to fend off the others when they all meet. Said sticks could be fastened to the side of the luge and easily detachable to beat the living shit out of their competitors. Also, on the way to the finish line, the competitors must collect as many flags as possible.

Let's jump ahead a little bit to the closing ceremonies. This one is more interesting anyway. First they have the main reception for the winners. Gold is happy, Silver is excited, and Bronze... well bronze sucks anyway and he's disappointed in his inability to preform. He probably feels like an impotent man on valentines day or quite possibly his anniversary. Oh hell, how he feels anytime his wife is aroused and is disappointed by this limply hanging dick. Anyway, you get the point, bronze is a limp wiener (get it? wiener, winner? hahaha) *ahem* So anyway, that's going on and everyone who's there is yawning. Meanwhile, the real show is across the street in a roman era colosseum. The losers are brought into the center of the colosseum and everyone is cheering. They think it's because, even though they lost, they gave it their best. But this is the cool, fun, and hip Olympics Obviously, they are cheering because the gates holding back the lions were just opened. Well, it would be boring to just watch them run away in fear right? Of course. So to toy with their emotions, the lions are wearing gold medals. It's so much more interesting to see them die trying to get what they've worked their whole life for isn't it? Did I mention that they were thrown a losers celebration before hand where they get drunk off their ass?

You only get one chance to be a winner in THESE Olympics. No trying again in four years. As Yoda would say, "Do or do not. There is no try."

Now, back to the events. Next we'll take a look at curling. Let's watch two guys brush a path for a disk to travel over ice to land it in a radial target. Yawn yawn.... You know what that disk looks like it should be? Give up? Let's try a time bomb! Give them seven seconds to get it in the target area or it explodes. It adds extra excitement to the game. Not only do they have to be careful to not make it slide too far, but they ALSO had to get it to the designated area. Or how about this. Make it a proximity bomb. Let's go over how a prox bomb works. It's dropped in from the air usually, arms are spread to slow it's decent. When it lands, the fuse is armed. It sets up a magnetic field. The field detects the amount of metallic objects in the area. The counter for the objects can go up an infinite amount. The problem is when the count drops. When it does, BOOM. The idea is when a convoy drives through the radius, the front passes through ok. As the ones behind it come in, the counter on the bomb goes up. And the end enters though, since nothing is following it, the metal count drops and the ass end of the convoy is no more. Back on to explaining how it helps curling be more interesting. As the bomb gets closer, there is more metal objects the are moved into it's field. the maximum amount is when it reaches the target area. However, if it moved beyond that area, BOOM! That's what makes it interesting because you also have 7 seconds to make it to the area or BOOM as well. A most awesome idea.

Well do one more for the winter Olympics. Ski jumping. Quite possibly the most boring event of ALL TIME. Well, how about this. We add a flaming hoop just as they jump off the ramp. Sure you can swerve to avoid it, but then you'll fall into the conveniently place canyon between the jump and the landing area. And just to FURTHER make things interesting, we add ANOTHER hoop just before the landing. Guaranteed excitement! It would be like watching car racing, only better. People only watch NASCAR and the like for the crashing at the beginning, then go home and probably get fat or BBQ or if you're a loner, masturbate to pictures of the crashes you download from the internet when you get home. Ok ok, I kid. They all skip the BBQ and go masturbate to said pictures. Really the only way to tolerate NASCAR is to have a fetish for it. It's understandable I guess. Everyone has a fetish. Some foot, some Asian, some German shiza videos.... What am I kidding, those NASCAR fans are FUCKING FREAKS man! masturbating to NASCAR crashes? Ew nasty you sick bastard. Now I'm too disturbed to come up with more to the ski jump.

Let's stop with winter and go to the summer Olympics. Let's start with something truly boring. The marathon. Everyone is gathered near an obelisk. They're just standing around waiting for the race to start. Oh, I'm forgetting something.... what was it... hmm... oh well, probably wasn't important anyway. So the gun is fired and the runners begin. The distance to run is three miles. A minor trek for an experienced marathon runner, be assured. Oh wait, I remember now what was previously forgotten. Remember the obelisk at the starting point? Good, cause it's got a nuke in it. It's set to go off 5 minutes after the start of the race. You may say, but doesn't a nuke have a blast radius of about 500 miles? Well, at the end of the race are bomb shelters. But how could someone ever run 3 miles in 5 minutes? Well, knowing that your about to be fucking obliterated on the atomic level might encourage you to run faster maybe. Maybe...

finally, there's the diathalon. Well, forget about it. It's been thrown out. It's replacement? The Decapithon. But I grow weary now. We'll get to that another time as this is getting long as it is. Hopefully you've enjoyed our ideas to make the Olympics better for all. Ok, well, maybe just better for the viewers, but dammit all, we're the important ones here right? That's what I thought.

Read More...

Shrink...

Pheromones

There is a new infomercial fad going around that people are slowly noticing. Chemical sexual stimulants are the new “it” thing to push, promote, and make a dollar off of. We have all seen the commercials with Smilin’ Bob of Enzyte, and the almost uncomfortable situations that the Cialis commercials put us in. At first, “natural male enhancement” was the thing. Now, its no longer that type of enhancement companies are pushing us towards. Now, it’s pheromone enhancement.

Most people have heard of pheromones. A pheromone is a chemical that triggers a natural behavioral response in another member of the same species. There are many types of pheromones. There are alarm pheromones, territorial pheromones, trail pheromones, even calming pheromones. Believe it or not, the studies (both controlled and not) that show that female menstrual cycles align when there are multiple women who spend extended periods of time together, come from the releasing of pheromones.

But, of course, the ones that the marketers are trying to capitalize on are sex pheromones. According to the infomercials, and apparently scientific study, an organ three inches in the nose called the vomeronasal organ detects pheromones and sends a sexual response signal to the brain. There are many products, such as Pherlure, that advertise that their product enhance these signals and increase the amount of pheromones, leading to a higher probably of intimate contact.

Being the fully confident, unabashed male I am, and in a service to Wasabisoft and its researches (patents, loans, actual experiments still pending), I decided to order Pherlure and try it out. Last night, donned in my finest pimp gear, with some sprayed on pheromones, I went to a local bar known to be frequented by students of the college variety. After walking in and sitting down at the bar, I started to notice the strangest thing.

Women were looking at me… and smiling!

I thought, “Wow, this stuff must work.” So, I sat there, played it cool, and decided I would scope the room for the perfect girl to “spit game” at. As I was looking around, I also started to notice that the guys were looking at me too and smiling. Now, my dangle don’t dangle for other dangles., so I was a little freaked out by the looks I was getting. I shook off the weird vibes and found my girl. I tried one of my favorite pick up lines; “Should I buy you a drink or just give you the money?” Depending on the girl, it can get a laugh, or get a slap. This time, it was unfortunately the latter. Oddly enough, she walked away laughing, so I just figured she got the joke late. I decided that it wasn’t the pheromones that time that failed, it was the line.

So, I found another girl. I dropped another one of my favorite lines; “You know, there are a thousand great guys out there, but only a few of us aren’t gay.” Usually a sure fire winner, but this time, I got a disgusted look and she left me. I figured, one more try and then I’m out of there.

I found one that girl and delivered one of the best lines in my back pocket: “Did YOU invite all of these people? I thought it was going to be just the two of us.” I was smooth, charming, just a perfect delivery of the line. She busted out laughing. Yes! I’m in. I thought about the follow up, should I go with more comedy? Should I just introduce myself? Just as I was about to open my mouth, she said…

“You smell like a camel’s ass.”

“What?”

“You smell like a camel’s ass. I smelled you the second you walked into a bar. You out smelled the cigars, beer and drunk in here!”

I left and went home.

So, what did my research come to? Apparently, pheromones smell like camel ass.

You’re welcome.

Read More...

Shrink...

We're not MA!!

Apparently, they are trying to implement universal health care in CALIFORNIA. That's right. UNIVERSAL health care. UNIVERSAL. Just like what they have in MA.

Why, why is CA following MA!?

First and foremost, MA, no offense, but UNIVERSAL HEALTH CARE is not smart; especially for CA. Why? Because one, CA has 2, 3, maybe even 4x the people than MA. And since CA is closer to our neighbors down south, CA must have more poor people. Duh, obviously. Not only them, but every year, thousands of 'transplants' find their way to CA.

It's nice to have health care and it's also sad to not have health care. Oh, believe me. I know the pain and agony of not having health care when you truly need it.

But, how is the poor going to afford mandatory health care? They can't even afford regular health care right now! Not even the cheapest one!

Like the other 40 million people in this nation, we feel we don't need health care. Relatively, we are healthy. Relatively. Or we hoped that we'd get over our illness without the need of professional medical care.

Yet, there are still the 20 or so million that need health care but cannot obtain it because they either need a roof under their head or feed their growling stomachs. So, how do you solve this dilemma?

NOT UNIVERSAL HEALTH CARE, that's for sure. How does mandatory withdrawal of your paycheck help?! MA's health care costs about $200; how does this help someone who lives paycheck to paycheck? You're actually causing more heartache to them. They NEED that 100 or 200$. Not taken away if they're not actively using the 'benefit'. It's like free money to the government, on top of what we pay.

Does health care cover vision costs? Does it cover dental costs? No. It only covers health care costs. Doctor visits. Toothache? No. Root canal? No. WHAT!? What good are you to me Universal health care!!!

Face it, we see our dentists more often than our doctors. We even see our optometrists more often than our doctors. Can we include the whole package?! Then the 200$ per month would be great. Don't you think so?!

20 million poor + expensive 'low priced' mandated insurance fee = more money for our government. AWESOME.

Read More...

Shrink...

Tuesday Top Five on Wednesday: Jellyvision Edition

Welcome to the Tuesday Top Five on Wednesday! Each week, I will present at least one top five list on Wednesday for you to mull over, agree with, disagree with, or ignore completely! It is the Tuesday Top Five because alliteration is always fun. But I present it to you on Wednesday because Wednesday should not be shunned just because its the longest word of all of the days.

Top Five Jelly Belly Flavors No One Knows About
Note: These are actual flavors. Feel free to look them up.
5. Ear Wax
4. Booger
3. Baby Wipes
2. Pencil Shavings
1. Vomit

Honorable Mention: Bacon, Dirt, Soap, Lemon

Top Five TV Dramas Currently On TV
5. Dirty Sexy Money
4. Heroes
3. Life
2. Pushing Daisies
1. Chuck

Honorable Mention: House

Top Five TV Comedies Currently On TV
5. Scrubs
4. South Park
3. 30 Rock
2. How I Met Your Mother
1. The Office

Honorable Mention: The Big Bang Theory, The Sarah Silverman Program

Read More...

Shrink...

Quality Assurance

Having finally gotten a taste of the video game industry from the inside, I have to say; I love it. I was lucky enough to have gotten that taste from a company known to employ some of the coolest, most interesting people in the industry. I was also lucky to have been working on one of the bigger releases of the year. The company? Harmonix. The game? Rock Band.

For the 2 months I worked at Harmonix on Rock Band, even though we were in 70+ hour a week crunches, life was a dream. I had finally put my foot in the door and gotten a chance to work on a game many people were waiting on.

I was in the QA department.

Ok, how many people did I lose there? People think QA and go, "Oh, well you didn't really work on the game, you just played it all day." To which I reply, "If it were only that easy my friend." As most people know by now, we were partnered with EA and MTV. EA is not really known for their exceptional QA abilities (just look at the quality of their releases for the past few years). While there were a few good ones, the majority of them submitted the most unintelligible bugs ever. Internal QA really had to restrain ourselves from going off on them (though it did still happen from time to time).

There were a few things we had to do that I didn't agree with to make the dead line, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made. Also remember that Rock Band was built from the ground up in only a year. Did we live up to everyone's expectations? I'll let you decide. While it may not have trumped number one, I'd like to think it's up there with fans of the music/rhythm genre of games. And yes, I am aware that Zelda took the spot back.

As for the people I worked with, they were all awesome. I also finally found some great guitar competition for Rock Band and GH of old. Overall, everyone there was just awesome, and the company treated us like they actually cared (mmm late night dinners and Friday lunches).

As for what I think of GH3, I owned it for about two weeks before getting bored with it and trading it in. I played GH1 and 2 for the entire year while waiting for the new ones to come out. I just feel like Neversoft didn't understand what made GH special. Sure, the solos on the later songs were bitchin', and the inclusion of Dragonforce was pretty sweet, but the visuals made me want to go cry in a corner.

I haven't mentioned this about myself yet, but I am a Graphic Artist/3D modeler. And what I saw in GH3 horrified me. The drummer was extremely clunky, Judy Nails turned into Super Slut™, and the singer... Why did he have his balls surgically attached to his chin? Yeah, it's about the music, that comes first, but damn guys, when your dummer looks like a robot something ain't right. Now the 2D animated sections, those character designs looked beautiful. Why couldn't Neversoft have used them?

In closing, I would like to take a quote from Brian Clevinger of 8-bit theater fame, "Point is, about 80% of GH3 consists of songs I'd never listen to. They're still mostly fun to play, but differently. GH2 made me appreciate songs and artists that I previously didn't care about because it showcased the talent behind the music. By comparison, GH3 seems like some dudes happened to enjoy some random songs and, hey wouldn't you know it, these guys are working on this guitar game. The songs on GH3 just don't have anything to "say" about music. Rock Band's playlist kind of emphasizes that distinction. Most of those songs don't really interest me as songs, but I find them downright compelling as pieces of music to "play". The way GH2 did."

Read More...

Shrink...

Proposition 187

I was asked to take this survey for some public something policy administration class by my sister's friend.

Here's how it went down on AIM:

me: wat u gonna do with this info
friend: i have to discuss my chosen proposition, explain its policy formulation and evaluation process, discuss the survey results, provide pie chart
me: soo u're collectin data from ppl and see wat they think
me: its not a real survey!! its helpin u to do ur hw!!
me: cheater!!

So, as a nice person that I am, I participated. Mind you, it is quite long. Read with caution.

What is Proposition 187?
California Proposition 187 was a 1994 ballot initiative designed to deny illegal immigrants social services, health care, and public education.

Proposition 187 included several additions to the law, falling into two categories:
- All law enforcement agents who suspect that a person who has been arrested is in violation of immigration laws must investigate the detainee's immigration status, and if they find evidence of illegality they must report it to the attorney general of California, and to the federal Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS).
- No one may receive public benefits until they have proven their legal right to reside in the country. If anyone applies for benefits and is suspected by government agents of being illegal, those agents must report in writing to the enforcement authorities. Emergency medical care is exempted as required by federal law but all other medical benefits have the same test as above. Primary and secondary education is explicitly included.

Gender: Female
Ethnicity: Asian/Pacific Islander
Do you support the proposition? Yes and No
Please explain:

We live in a capitalistic country—we fend for ourselves and ourselves only. If anyone gets in our way, we’ll stomp them like a bug. If someone bothers us, we’ll gently wave our hands as if we’re shoo-ing away a pesky fly. Why? Simply because we have better things to do than to bother with such ‘nuisances.’

Why should it be any different for an illegal immigrant? What makes them so special that we pay attention to them? As a capitalist, who cares. Illegal immigrants took the courage, money and made ridiculous sacrifices to join our rat race. Why not let them join us?

Most of our ‘citizen’ population can barely keep up with this rat race. In fact, at least 1/3 of our population are laggers and will only walk, never run or even jog—just like when we had PE in middle school; you know who I’m talking about.

Isn’t becoming something from nothing part of the American culture? What good sense does it make to let our ‘privileged’ citizens remain laggers and stomp illegals who are willing to succeed? How will this help our economy? It doesn’t, it only hinders it. Face it, we’re adding more laggers to the race, not diminishing it. Maybe we should create a human bartering system with other countries; except who would be willing to take our laggers? No country would. If I were President of a country, I would 187 them before they set foot in my land.

Sure, take away the health benefits and other ‘citizen’ privileges, but we should not and cannot be the ones to determine if they should receive an education. The basic fundamental of an education is to increase our knowledge and wisdom—removing them from our public school education will not defeat this. In fact, it may do the exact opposite.

Alas, our taxes. We pay taxes and by no means should an illegal reap our possible benefits. I digress. As a citizen, we merely indirectly support these programs. It is up to the government to decide on how our hard earned dollars are spent—this is our unsaid contract for living here. We are given the illusion that we have control.

Also, I question our logic: It’s okay to have our government officials spend excessive amount of our taxes on dinners, conferences, lodging, drug smuggling (i.e. FBI and Colombia), have slow and inefficient courtroom/DMV employees, but when an illegal tries to obtain an education (either to learn or to stay out of trouble) that’s a big no-no? Wouldn’t you prefer illegals to be safely tucked away at school than to have them roaming around the streets doing God knows what?

Even if this proposition is approved, the number of illegal immigrants will never cease. Middle runners of the rat race are too busy to pay close attention and the top runners are too successful to even care. All that is left are the laggers—and we know what big gossips they were back in day.

Comment: Now I wonder if she used my real data to include in her presentation :p

Read More...

Shrink...

February 2nd

You ever have one of those days where you wake up and everything looks exactly as it was when you woke up the previous day. You start to move around, drive around, and everything just looks exactly the same. You feel like you are stuck in a loop. You feel like it is Groundhog Day.

Let me preface the rest of the blog by stating that, after viewing said 1993 masterpiece starring Bill Murray, I have slept fully through every February 2nd (with the exception of 2/2/2, which for obvious reasons, I re-watched the film, although I was scared to death while doing so). It is a very planned out process, trust me. You try sleeping over 24 hours straight without waking up, its tough. And if you succeed, tell me what your secret was, I'm always open to new ideas. I'm sure, being the red-blooded Alaskan that you are, you want to know my process for sleeping through February 2nd.

It all starts, oddly enough, on Christmas Eve. A healthy sleep cycle is one of the foundations of proper living. And, since I've been trying to catch that bastard thats been eating my cookies on December 24th (I mean, its every freakin' year!), I decide to start prepping my mind and body on that day. On that day, I attempt to stay up until I see sun. But, since my body has yet to be trained, I usually fall asleep around 4 AM (3 AM Central). I wake up to a preset alarm at roughly 8 PM. This way, my body is getting used to sleeping for long periods. Yes, I understand that this way I don't get to catch who stole my cookies, and yes, I understand this means I "sleep through Christmas", but we all must make sacrifices sometimes for our own sanity.

Now, my body is used to falling asleep at 4 AM (3 AM Central). Unfortunately, I have work. This means I wake up at 9 AM everyday. The early rise is not an issue, but the healthy 5 hour nap is. So, to offset this, I sleep at work. A lot.

When January 31st rolls around, I buy myself a 24 pack of the latest energy drink craze (this year it was Pimp Juice!) and get ready to stay up 55 hours straight. I usually have DVDs of whatever TV show is the latest craze (this year it was Guiding Light!). Then, at precisely 11 PM on Feb 1, I inject myself with a high dosage of Morphine and pass out. And the next time I awake, I've skipped Feb 2nd.

Sure, some years, I've woken up in March from a coma. And sure, some years I've OD'd, ended up in rehab and worked my way through "the system". And sure, this ritual causes me to have to find a new job each year. But, it's worth it.

Can you imagine the egg on my face if I didn't sleep through Groundhog Day and woke up in a time loop?

Read More...

Shrink...

Ah, the Capitalist Season

Today I present for your consideration: Black Friday. First of all, why that name? I understand we don't really have a national "Sorry For Fucking You Over, Black People Day", but I don't think "Black Friday" quite suffices, so that can't be it. Come to think of it, Thanksgiving really doesn't say "Sorry For Fucking You Over, Native American People" either, so maybe I'm seeing a connection where there is none.

Perhaps a more appropriate day name would be "Manifest Destiny Day", but we Americans are extremely adept at couching potentially unpopular topics in devastatingly misleading language (see: The Patriot Act). It is highly amusing to me that we make an entire national holiday out of the fact that we had ONE nice meal with these guys before we flogged them to near extinction with rolled up smallpox blankets. You don't see "National Cameraderie Day" celebrating the roughly 10 minute gap between meeting Africans for the first time and slapping them in leg irons during which we WEREN'T actually slapping them in leg irons.

But I digress. This post is about Black Friday, that magical day immediately following Thanksgiving when all the malls have ridiculous sales to kick off the Christmas season. What better way to say "Now that we've gotten THAT bullshit out of the way, time to start BUYING SHIT!" We, as Americans, need EVERY SECOND POSSIBLE to celebrate our capitalist souls. Our primary method of celebration is by purchasing stupid shit for people that don't need it in the hopes of receiving, in return, other stupid shit that we not only don't need but don't even want. But we don't say that, we bare our teeth and grin out something like "Oh, wow, a nutcracker shaped like Hillary Clinton's thighs! I'm allergic to nuts, but it's ok, because this thing will STILL be humorous and heartwarming even after the elections are over! What a considerate friend you are!" That drivel is even EASIER to say if the gift YOU got THEM is even worse than the gift THEY got YOU! Santa Claus would be rolling in his grave if he wasn't laughing so hard over having stolen the holiday from Jesus. The joke's on him, though: Jesus stole it from the winter solstice! Fuck you, pagans!

You may have noticed I'm not a big holiday person, especially when it comes to the quasireligious ones. As Dorfl the golem once said, "Either all days are holy, or none are." In regards to Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Valentine's Day, New Year's Eve, St. Patrick's Day, Presidents' Day, and to a lesser extent, Cinco de Mayo, I really don't think Americans need any more excuse to indulge their buying habit. I think the fact that stores are usually open seven days a week is evidence enough to suggest that we celebrate Capitalism EVERY damn day and the other holidays are just frivolous. The sooner these domesticated fucking sheeple wake up to the fact that our entire society revolves around the nearest shopping mall, the better off we'll all be. And Happy Holidays!

Omnium Bonum Est

Read More...

Shrink...

Happy Gobble Day!!

Happy Gobble day everyone!!!!!!! If you're like me and don't eat turkey or fowl on turkey day, eat plenty of food!!! Whatever you decide to eat (Vietnamese food here or possibly turkey if I go to my friend's), just make sure you enjoy it, even if it is fast food. Don't worry, I've been there. One time I had In-N-Out on Thanksgiving and another year I had McDonald's on Christmas.

How tasty is that? Fast food on a day everyone has crazy grubbing. Why did we have fast food? I think pure laziness. As an Asian (Asian American? naah I'm from California, too lazy for that. Asian it is), my family at least has never really celebrated this 'Western' holiday. I say Western because Canadians have Thanksgiving, too. We tried it once, it was cool, except we don't eat much and dooood!! Western food is filling!! It's almost like Soul Food. I think we don't like the endless days of leftover food. And plus, when I was younger, I didn't want my mom to spend all day in the kitchen just to make us food; especially when most of her Asian dishes would only take a couple of hours (prep+cook).

WARNING: Below contains Non-PC words. It is not used in a derogatory way, it's just how it's used in most languages anyways. If you are faint of heart, then do not read any further. I've warned you. If you get offended, it is by your own doing and don't blame me. Also, if you get offended, GET OVER IT. Jk, it's not so bad, I think.

Thank you to the Natives for inviting the white people to eat your food and live on your land peacefully. Without your kind gesture, I wouldn't know the thrill of occasional gambling. (Readers, please gamble wisely.)

Thank you to the white for mistaking their kindness as 'weakness' and creating America. Without you arrogant son of a guns, I wouldn't be here.

Thank you to the blacks for the decades of slavery. Without you, America would have been only the East Coast and I would've been Asian-Mexican.

Thank you to the Mexicans for your years of hard work and cheap labor. Without you, I wouldn't be enjoying my delicious sushi, pho, noodles, tacos and many more every day.

Thank you to my fellow Asians (regardless of which country) and your intelligence. Without you, stem cell research would be 50 years behind and I would be stuck with American-sized products--large and bulky, just like how we like our food servings.

Thank you to the Middle Easterners (defined as any country between Europe and India). Without you, we wouldn't have our pricey crude oil and television shows or movies. Your intelligence is underestimated--you know we would surrender our money to you no matter what the cost.

And thank you to the Wasabisoft readers, without you, I'd be blogging to no one.

Have a safe, fun, and filling Thanksgiving!!!!!!

I salute you all.

Read More...

Shrink...

Happy Thanksgiving

From all of us at Wasabisoft to all of you and your loved one, we'd like to wish everyone a happy and safe Thanksgiving and hope everyone has something to be thankful for on this day. Now go murder a turkey.

Read More...

Shrink...

Tuesday Top Five on Wednesday: Holiday Edition

Welcome to the Tuesday Top Five on Wednesday! Each week, I will present a top five list(s) on Wednesday for you to mull over, agree with, disagree with, or ignore completely! It is the Tuesday Top Five because alliteration is always fun. But I present it to you on Wednesday because Wednesday should not be shunned just because its the longest word of all of the days.

Top Five Forgotten Holidays
5. Take Your Illegitimate Child To Work Day
4. Z-Day (The day the zombies took over the earth)
3. George Clooney Day
2. You and you wife’s Anniversary
1. Canadian Veteran’s Day

Honorable Mention: German Samaritan Day, National Poncho Day, My Birthday

Top Five Restaurants With a Computer Theme
5. Mouse Trap (American)
4. +hë F00d 3mp0ri0u/\/\ (Cafeteria)
3. Bill’s House of Taking Your Money And Ruling The World (Italian)
2. Error Code 24 (Tex Mex)
1. Pooters (Hooters-style, but with Robots)

Honorable Mentions: Customer Service (Indian), The Constant Upgrade (????)

Read More...

Shrink...