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:

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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."

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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.

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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...

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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.

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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...

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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?

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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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.

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