I Propose a New Movement -- Occupy Occupy Wallstreet

You want more programs and free money? We are in an enormous deficit because we already have too many programs. Recently the government almost defaulted on it's debt because we hit the debt ceiling. If the US defaults on it's debt we are going to have a lot more issues than we have now.

The only way to get rid of a deficit like the 14+ trillion dollar one we have on our shoulders right now is one of two ways.. increase the inputs (raise taxes) or decrease the outputs (cut programs/spending). What will it be? .....

Sure, if we taxed the rich a little more it could pay (maybe) a hundred dollars more for a couple people on welfare, but I don't think that is a long term solution. What occupy wallstreet is calling for is known as communism. They are complaining about wealth inequality, but what our nation is built upon is the principal that if you work hard you make more money..... The top 1% is comprised mainly of doctors and lawyers, and being that the taxes in this country are based off percentages how are they being taxed less? In fact there is a bracket system in place so they are indeed being taxed more (a lot more).

I just dont get what is unfair, maybe I am misinformed.... But to me it just seems like we want this perfect society with lower taxes and more programs, but life is about give and take, am I wrong? We can't just print money. Yeah, the government is pretty screwed up, but occupy wall street is like that kid rolling on the ground kicking and screaming because he wants to go to Disney land right then and there when the family can barely pay their bills.

So here is what I propose...

Occupy Occupy Wallstreet: We sit on their tent and lean on their lean-to's until they realize that they are being whiny bitches. They need to realize all they are doing is hurting small businesses in the area and cramping the people who lived in the park before it was "cool" to be homeless. Maybe they will see how annoying they are, and how stupid it is to be fighting a cause with no solution. It is like the "war on drugs" or the "war on terror". It is just a suckers game, with no tangible end in sight.

Get a job you hippies... Hopefully Starbucks hasn't fired your sorry ass yet...

Babies Are Gross -- Except The Etrade Baby, He's Fucking Awesome!

Tasty's Facebook Rules to Live By #172 -- If you're pregnant, I de-friend you. You are not one of my 679 closest friends if you're overpopulating my Earth.

The lines at amusement parks are already too long!...

Need Inspiration to Hit The Gym? -- How About Justice?!

Paranormal Activity 3 comes out today, but because I am awesome, I got to see it last night. I had an extra pass and because the girlfriend was out of town I decided to play friend roulette. In search of someone to go with I updated my status about the advance screening passes, and within 14 seconds of posting the update I received this text message from Trainer, a friend of mine I use to work with:

Trainer Tasty!
Me What up dude
Trainer What time and where is the advanced screening I want to review it for my blog (oh yeah, she has a blog) and whatever happened with your cancer mole?

(side story: I have a large blue mole on my arm that she spotted while we were working together, and I refused to get it checked out with the defense that doctors are for rich people, and she got a petition with 100 signatures which pretty much forced me to dish out the copay, for who am I to ignore 100 adoring fans?)

Me Not cancer, happy?.. we would have to get there at 8, and since you got me 30 seconds after the post I still don't have anyone to go with, I know, huge shock, so you can tag along if you want
Trainer That was a total coincidence, it has nothing to do with the fact that I refresh your profile every 20 seconds
Trainer But yeah im in
Me That reminds me, Mark Zuckerberg wanted me to tell you to stop doing that, your freakish obsession with me is overlaoding the Facebook servers

Im not really into the Paranormal marathon hollywood is obsessed with, but I was really curious to see if they could really make the same movie 3 times in less than a few years. And I have not seen Trainer in a while, so that makes two birds.

We get to the movie, and find some nice open seats way in the back. I usually like to sit up near the front, but I let Trainer lead the way. She brought us up to the fourth row from the top, I think we sat next to an eagle's nest we were so high up, but I refused to care, for I was seeing Paranormal Activity 3.

All is well, until right before the movie started, the entire row in front of us fills with a group of people I could only assume to be terrible tippers.

Trainer and I look at each other.

Me I forgot to tell you, when I get scared I tend to frantically kick things in front of me
Trainer I have a very similar problem, but I just projectile vomit

We brace for what was going to be an entirely ok movie jam packed with "director commentary".

Of course, they talked the entire time. If they weren't talking about something that was obviously on screen, they were laughing at inappropriate moments. The 8 year old girl in the movie gets lifted in the air by her hair, and I felt like I missed some comedic element as the entire row of people in front of us started cracking up. Where is the humor in that? White children in pain isn't exactly a classic yet. (However, If Obama is reelected, you never know)

The somewhat fat older lady next to me even whipped out the passive-aggressive-white-person pissed-off-in-a-theater-move that works about 12% of the time, coughing very loudly twice.

I really wanted to try this move on them: Hey, could you please shut the fuck up? Thanks. It was not that I cared about the movie, but the old fat woman next to me did, and I wanted her to enjoy every bit of her life right up to the massive heart attack she could have at any moment triggered by clogged arteries and stress.

I was about to make my heroic move and save the theater and then I realized there were a lot more of them than there was of me. Which is fine, I don't think that every confrontation at the movies is going to lead to me getting curb stomped in the Lowe's parking lot (although it may, not sure), but I figured if I was big enough to maybe get away with taking out maybe two or three of their jaw bones before I got overrun they would take my shut the fuck up a little more seriously.

There needs to be some justice in this world, and therefore I'm hitting the gym again. I have been so busy with work, and cracked out on adderal that my only focus in life has been my job and school. Which has led me off of my prime and about 10 pounds later, I am not nearly as threatening as I use to be.

I'm not saying that if I had been hitting the gym on the regular I would been able to just punch one in the face every few minutes until they shut up, but I think being a physical threat is key if you are going to command any respect.

You think if Poland had asked nicely, that Germany would have just respected their country's borders? Nien! Germany would have laughed and talked through the entire movie. Now, if Poland said, he man, I have these tanks, and if you don't shut the fuck up, I'll blow you the fuck up. That might have averted an entire world war.

All I am saying is that the Poland's of the world need to start getting their fitness on...

Trainer is one of the actually funny people I know. She has a rare trait we like to call wit. As with everyone who grew up with a serious dysfunctional corner of their life and turned to humor to covertly disguise their grief, she knows how to make fun of a radically normal situation. I'll post a link to her blog soon.
The link as promised

Life Lessons --

Everyday you learn something. It's a matter of noticing the dumb shit you do, not doing it the next day, and hence improving the quality of life.

Lesson for September 14th, 2011
1.) Whenever something is free the shit it's tied to always sucks.
2.) Handicap "friendly" doors are harder to open than normal doors, and when you try to open them manually you usually look pathetic, especially if you didn't realize they were handicap "friendly" doors to begin with.
3.) When you hold a door for someone and they are more than 3 steps behind you it gets awkward fast. Whatever you do, don't make eye contact.

Trust me...

Can't Win Them All -- ....Or Any

God damnit... Now I have to get a job...

A Real Man's "To Do" List -- To Hell With The Dry Cleaning

It's time to start filling your to-do list with errands you look forward to. Why pick your kids up from soccer practice? Mia Hamm can do a sweet bicycle kick, and when she gets sweaty it won't fuck up the leather in your Porsche Carrera (which is what you drive when you don't have children). And who wants to wash the car when Megan Foxx is already waxed and ready to go?

So what if I am dreaming. Reality sucks and if, to avoid being labeled as an alcoholic, I have to wait until 5 everyday to pour my first glass of scotch, then I'm going to help myself to a big fat glass of fantasy juice. Join me or fuck off!

1.) Taylor Swift -- This is my dream girl. As the wise Usher once said the best kind of woman is a "lady in the street, but a freak in the bed". She is obviously a passionate girl, and I would bet my bottom love story that Taylor knows how to make a man forget about all the skanks who got drunk enough to want to sleep with you in your college days. But in all seriousness, my favorite type of a girl is one you can bring home to Mom, that is... if she puts down her cigarette and miller lite bottle long enough to have a conversation. But I digress.

2.) Isabel Lucas -- Any girl that can get on Michael Bay's roster is ok in my book. Replacing his stud QB, Foxx, the rookie Isabel was bumped up to the first string, and Bay has never looked back. And you can't blame him, toe thumbs are gross! Isabel Lucas was an easy choice for the number two slot, keep it up girl, being hot seems to be working out for you!

3.) Mila Kunis -- It's time to put That 70's Show behind us. We all had an awkward phase, and I can't hold that against her. This girl (after a little plastic surgery) grew into her own, and once she ditched that Kelso loser, who reminded me of every guy in high school that I wanted to euthanize for the betterment of society, she got super hot. And bronze is definitely her color, taking the LTANP 3rd place medal.

Got to get started. A daunting to-do list indeed, but hey I'm awesome, I can't say that I'm worried...

He's Acting Like An Idiot -- And She Likes It Because She's A Whore

In a relationship most people tend to get lazy, stop giving a shit, and end up looking like a greasy, fat, disgusting version of something that ate their old self. Being interesting and suave becomes about as foreign to you as Chinese and you look like a drunk Russian pedophile every time you try and "bust one of your moves". So, being that I finally tunneled my way into prison and found a girl I want to spend more than 3 days of my life with, I try and exercise my awesome muscle and still go out to parties and mingle with the "cool kids", to avoid becoming the overly dependent commitment junkie I have nightmares about.

However, the party that I walked head first into the other night only made me realize how much I love being myself (seriously, my self respect is at an all time high right now). I got invited to a "party" by one of Girlfriend's friends and as the three of us walked up the staircase to his apartment, I almost choked on the stench of what smelled like Indian food and marijuana. We hear loud music coming from apartment D voiding the need to double check the address, and we just walk in. However, it seems as if no one is there.

We investigate further to find about six or so bro's playing beer pong on what looks like a table they fashioned out of a door and some old kegs. They macgyver'd the shit out of the entire party, with the only place to sit being a cabinet they turned on it's side. A few girls show up as the night progresses, but what was suppose to be a party turned out to be a lightly veiled booty call. The (one other) girl that showed up only brought her friend so she wouldn't look like a loser walking in alone, and was obviously just there to "get some" from one of the members of the apartment, that should have been condemned as a brothel.

As the night went on, the girl's target became apparent. And he was by far the dumbest of the bunch. I figure if players, the whores of manhood, target dumb girls with daddy issues, why wouldn't whores, the players of womanhood, target the dumbest guys they could find with mommy issues. It sort of made sense.

But, besides chalking it up to "hey, I could do worse" I could not explain the attraction between these two parties at all. The girl was average and the guy was a moron... at best... He looked "slimy", as Girlfriend described him, as we hung out perched in the corner, mercilessly judging everyone.

The dude had, and I did the math on this, enough grease in his hair to kill eight baby seals, was wearing an Abercrombie button down but with the sleeves cut off, which I am pretty sure he freshly cut off sometime during the events of the evening using only his sharp wit and brute strength. His cum/beer/piss stained athletic shorts, which have probably never been washed or been used to do anything athletic (only judging from the lite-beer belly), went great with the rest of his outfit. Sizing him up against his friends, they went on to prove you are the company you keep, and all of them spent, only God truly knows how long, fist pumping, doing exaggerated uncoordinated movements that somewhat resembled dancing, and spilling Natural light all over their apartment.

HOW DO THESE PEOPLE LIVE WITH THEMSELVES?!?

Call me whatever you want, but I prefer some awesome conversation, having an adventure you proudly tell your friends about the next day, good beer, and people who know how to formulate sentences that don't substitute periods for "brooooo".

Anyone with me?...

Time To Stock Up On Booze, Condoms, And Toilet Paper -- This Is Bullshit

A hurricane is coming, everyone panic! Quick! Hurry! Run to your nearest grocer and buy exuberant amounts of shit you normally buy, but make sure you look really really nervous in the checkout line.

In the midst of a catasphroic event, I doubt having 18 jars of peanut butter is going to be the reason you survive, but what do I know? I've only seen The Day After Tomorrow like 3 times, and you would feel incredibly stupid if I told you how many jars of peanut butter were featured in that movie!

And don't forget to stock up on toilet paper! It's gonna come in handy when 97mph winds sends a cow barreling through your front door and you shit your pants. Pansy.

Go find a clean pair of shorts, It's time to focus and learn a valuable life lesson. When God gives you a cow... you club it repeatedly over the head (because it's the humane thing to do), and make some delicious porterhouse steaks!

But I digress...

Fuck! The primary reason I live on the East coast is so I can still have a fighting chance of living out my dreams without having to bolt my furniture to the ground, or worry about waking up on some drift wood in the Pacific Ocean. I'm not cool with having to concern myself with the elements and the merciless wrath of God, for I piss that guy off on a daily basis.

But check this out... An earthquake and a hurricane are passing through my once safe little corner of the world in the span of a week. (lucky me!)

Just waiting on the 4 horseman now...

I Want To Be Retarded -- Helmet And Knee-pad Retarded

What a life it is to be retarded. And before I get crucified and cast into hell for that boisterous statement please hear me out.

I'm not talking about having a mental illness. I'm talking about straight up mental paralysis! I want to be so retarded people walk me around town, strapped to a little blue harness, wearing a helmet, drooling on my velcro shoes. I know you have no idea how that is suppose to be the rebuttal that will save my soul, but give me a few more minutes of your time.

Think about how complicated life is! We feel bad for people who have severe mental handicaps, I on the other hand envy them! Ignorance is truly bliss, and they are the Tom Bradys of BlissBall.

It is one thing to be given the curse of a good intellect and to waste it. But I would love just to slobber all over myself all day and have people pat me on the head for it, the government give me money for it, and doctors give me free drugs for it.

We the unfortunate members of society have to deal with real problems, and all the shit that entails. If we want drugs, we have to meet some shady guy in a dark alley behind Cosco, they get their drugs ground up in a smoothie for breakfast. If we want government support we have to go through a million interviews and fill out a dozen and a half forms, they have programs they pre-qualify for. We fuck up, we get yelled at until we unfuck shit up, and if you're retarded, people are just straight up afraid to be mean to you. The fear of burning in hell for eternity if you so much as giggle at the special Olympics indefinitely protects the mentally handicap.

I like keeping the bar low, and my perfectly functioning brain royally fucks that up for me...

Wow, We're All Fucked Up -- And I Love It!

Can you blame other countries for hating our guts? I sure as fuck can't!

Let's be honest though, they only pretend to hate us, if we offered them all green cards they would jump right on this infidel driven band wagon. They aren't after the dozens of virgins that their religious leaders keep dangling in their face, it's been said time and time again, we all want a woman with a little experience. It boils down to pure jealousy.

It's like when you're sitting at a red light, the tenth one you've hit that morning, already late for your shitty 9-5 job, and that dude in the Porsche with the girl in the passenger seat that is as far out of his league as she can be, obviously only after his money. And you think about skipping work, and following him home just so you can key "douche bag" into the side of his stupid German sports car.

But what you are really saying is "God damn, I want to be just like that guy". We all hate Porsche guy, until we are Porsche guy!

It's the same thing with these third world countries that keep trying to blow up our shit. They're just a little jealous we won't let them in our club house.

We do fucked up shit all the time and rub it in their face. I bought a 65" TV yesterday, and I don't even watch TV! I just like how it filled up the big empty wall, my 32" just wasn't cutting it, I'm still not entirely sure why. If I was living in a sandbox, and I caught word of this blasphemous American bullshit I'd get out my AK-47 and gun polish too.

The grass is always greener on the other side of the ocean, especially if you live in a fucking desert..

"Seriously... Who takes a shit at a bar?!" -- And The Other Unwritten Laws of Barmanship

Bars have an unwritten law about them. A sort of vigilante justice is displaced upon those who throw off the balance of peace and order that is spread about the world of debachary and good times.

Those who break these laws are subject to minor consequences such as constant baration for their crimes, and can reach the severity of a border line curb stomping for those who neglect to respect the code of inebriation.

List of Offenses:

Taking a shit at a bar -- We can't all be professionals, but novice and experienced drinkers alike need to add intestinal cleansing to their pre-bar checklist. Or maybe even the pre-shower checklist, depending on what you had for lunch that day. Everytime I see someone dropping their friends off at the pool in my local bar I make sure to take a peak under the stall door, and take note of their shoes so I know who to give the "I know what you did 10 minutes ago, so don't fuck with me" smirk.

"Girl's night out" -- Sense this makes: -1.7% If you want to have a night out with just the girls then don't dress like Kansas City hookers and parade around in stiletto heels. If you think hanging out at a bar and ignoring guys is a swell idea, we would greatly appreciate it if you didn't and stay home, put on some sweats, look gross, and dance around your living room. Why are you going to pay $8 a drink when you could drink that box of wine in your fridge at home for a fraction of the cost? Oh right, You're a whore!

Giving a bartender change back -- If you're going to be a cheap ass stay home and drink by yourself. Despite what you might think, bartenders don't like working for free.

God gave you a liver, now give it something to do! -- Don't ever order a drink that is more than one color or has any sort of nutritional value to it (AKA fruit). If you need to borrow my balls while you order a scotch, too bad. (Bluemoon is the only exception)

Staring at a girl for more than 3 seconds -- Don't be a creep, I've been guilty of this offense a few more times than I like to admit, but it was back in my younger years when alcohol actually worked, and I'd black out. What felt like 3 seconds was actually minutes, so it was really an honest mistake.

You're turning me down already? I said "hi" -- Contrary to what you may think, you probably aren't hot enough to have that much dignity, at least smile and entertain me for a little while. Hell, who knows, maybe I will think you're interesting enough to let you sleep with me.

Thinking you have a shot that doesn't go in a glass -- You don't. Flirting with the bartender is a waste of your time. They want your money, that's the only reason they put up with the stories of your pathetic life. Besides, if the only friend you have at the bar is the bartender who only pretends to like you for a dollar here or there then your life isn't worth talking about.

Wow, that was lamer than your Aeropostle polo -- If you have trouble starting conversations with strangers and you have to resort to the black art of pick up lines then save yourself some time and money and just stick to blowing up girl's facebook walls telling them how pretty they are (And get really good at masturbation). It's a lot less awkward for all parties involved.

Things that straight up turn me on:

Fermented flavors, distilled to perfection -- I use to be one of them, the guy that leans into the bartender so that no one else can hear you pop the question... "so, what are the specials tonight". Get a job and stop ordering lite beer in a can! Impress the fuck out of your adoring audience and valiantly order yourself a gentleman's drink, scotch on the rocks, and give a pass on the gentle man's drink.

Girls that know how to kick it -- The shoes we wear are a proclamation of how we are mentally planning out our night. Girls that wear flip flops are trying to tell you they have a boyfriend, girls in flats are probably open to talk to you, but are usually the ones that like to take it slow, heels scream fuck me, and the classy girls in a nice pair of kicks just says "fuck the world, I'm here to have fun and I'm ready to run from the cops if need be, I'm ready for anything, bring it on!". And I don't have to drive you home in the morning, go for a jog and work off those empty calories from the night before. The jog of shame is a great way to sweat out all that guilt.

Fire! -- I'm a slight pyro at heart, so anytime I see an ample amount of fire while I'm drinking I tend to lose it! A bar downtown use to have a bartender that would blow fire balls sporadically using a bit of Barcardi 151 and a lighter. Needless to say I would get a little giddy.

Me Scotch on the rocks please!
Bartender Wait, what?
Me Scotch, you have that here?
Bartender Yeah, I'm just impressed
Me Yeah, I get that all the time

"Seriously... who takes a shit at a bar?!" -Kdubs...

Duces -- At Least I Courtesy Flush

Air wick is stupid. As much as we all know what goes on when someone spends more than 2 minutes in a bathroom, no one wants to advertise that they are dropping their friends off at the pool.

After finishing one of the most vicious sushi and crab wonton inspired shits of my life, I had to mask the evidence, I found a can of Air Wick resting on the toilet cover. Begging me to spray it.

I try and discretely release the odor eliminating substance into the now toxic and unbreathable air. What is released though along with what I expected was an unexpected almost air horn like noise, alarming the entire house of the devilish deed I had just committed in their bathroom.

Fuck you air wick...

I try and walk back out into the hallway without being noticed and see PinkLilz with a disgusted look plastered on her face.

PinkLilz - wow, thanks...

Give Me A Shot Of Endorphins -- And Leave The Bottle

I've been trying to write this post for a while, but I'm not sure how to do it in a way that will offend enough people. Or at least in a way that I can get a few people to say "hey this fucker might be on to something".

Love sucks. And I am not talking in the sense of "oh hey this one girl totally broke my heart". No, I still have my dignity and a functioning set of testicles. But in the sense of no one actually knows what "love" is, or has any clue of what is really going on behind the scenes.

This is why the divorce rate in this country is so incredibly high. Let's admit it, the majority of the population is pretty clueless, and it gets worse because we don't care to make a change. And the people who are in charge of fixing the problem only make it worse.

What most people think is love is just an endorphin release in your brain tricking you into wanting to procreate. But hey, we like the cheap high so we try and ignore the fact that it doesn't make sense. We think, "oh he/she is the one for me", but what we do not realize is that the dude/chick we are with now gives us the same feelings we had with that girl/dude that cheated on me with that slut/bastard who we now give evil stares to every time we see them at Costco.

We are label obsessed. We want the "title", so that we can feel secure with someone, and therefore be validated as a worthwhile person. Some people need that validation in life. I dont. Which is why one day when I have a relationship that I really want to be in and take seriously, it will work out.

It's seriously a catch 22, the people who are most suited for a relationship, are the ones that want it the least, and in most cases not at all.

The trick to an awesome relationship is... drumroll... wait for it... not to want a relationship! Be secure, confident, and happy. The universe will provide the rest.

I wish people would just figure this out already, so that little heart will stop raping my Facebook news feed and I can finally read about the stuff I actually care about like where Stu is eating his lunch and Becky's new super lame inspiration quote.

Be awesome. No excuses. - Tasty out...

Happy Father's Day

The closest thing I have to kids end up inside a sock, condom, or flushed down a toilet. But I figured one day I might accidentally knock a girl up, she'll be pro-life, and I'll end up with a few crumb snatchers of my own... So, I would like to take this opportunity to write them a letter that I hope to god they never see!

Dear product of unprotected sex and too much scotch,

Son, lucky for you your mother was catholic! Yay!

I cant wait to show you all of the essential skills of life and manhood. Like how to talk to a woman, cook the perfect steak, and shave with a straight razor.

Duces,
Your future father

God forbid I have a girl, there are too many guys like me out there...

Would You Like Cancer With That?

I have to know.

Why the fuck do you want everything well done?! Steaks.. fries.. shrimp.. Really, shrimp now too? You bastards!! What is well done shrimp?
Who wants a shot of Patron? No, I know... That was rhetorical...

How I Met Your Irony

You see kids, the universe has a sense of humor, and it's hard not to notice it sometimes.

Your Uncle Sebastian got his ear pierced during the summer of 2011 and I mocked him relentlessly for getting only one ear pierced. I told him he looked like a fag/off-balanced and he needed to correct this bit immediately unless he wanted dudes to start fucking him in the ear.

He said he would get his other ear pierced on one condition. I got my ear pierced too. I agreed to the arrangement after he trapped me in the piercing shop, but I agreed nonetheless. Getting both my ears pierced as it should be.

Life was great. We both had pierced ears, great additudes on life, and we were pulling more tail than a 6 year old at a petting zoo. Well, I was anyways. Sebastian at the time kept getting caught up over two girls. Flake and Studybuddy. More on StudyBuddy later, Flake is the focus of my disdain at the moment...

As I was telling this story to one of my coworkers the other day I had him on the floor pissing his pants, so I figured it would be worth sharing with you.

I was sitting slouched in a chair next to a sink, moaning, grasping my side as if my arms were the only things holding my guts together, trying not to die at work.

The coworker I was just telling you about walks up with an enormously stupid grin on his face to inquire as to why I was feeling a bit sick/about to die.

Coworker "Tell me there is a story behind this and you aren't just about vomit in the sink for no reason whatsoever."
Me "Alright I'm going to tell you this story, then I'm going to the fucking ER"

Let me take you back the night before where I had gone out to the bar with Clark. (Clark also worked with us and was gifted such a name since he was a spitting image of pre-phone booth Superman. I came up with a better nick name for him, Murphy, after finding out he had like 15 screws and a couple metal plates in his leg. It pissed him off, so I ran with it.)

"Murphy bar after work"
"Im in"

We are walking to the bar and my phone rings. Flake is calling. Flake is, in short, a girl that Sebastian was suppose to fuck on several occasions, but Flake ended up staying in to eat Ben n' Jerry's, watch Grey's Anatomy or some other Lifetime bullshit and thus earning the name Flake. Which is not just a fake name I use for the purpose of protecting her identity in this blog, for she doesn't deserve that grace from me, that is what I actually call her.

"Hey Flake"
"Heyyyy.. I'm drunk, let's meet up somewhere"
"I'm in Towson, look for the hot guy in the V-neck, bye"

I hang up, and figured I might as well text Sebastian, he had gone to bed, but hey it's the least I could do.

"Hey I'm going to seduce Flake, If you're ok with this just don't respond"

I head off to the bar and unfortunately know everyone there. I head straight to the back of the bar with Murphy, and Flake shows up.

Flake "Hey did you get your ears pierced"
Me "No shit"

Flake thinks one earring looks smaller than the other, and yanks on my freshly pierced ears. Her dirty skanky college slut bar hands end up all over my ears, and the fresh wound that was her doing. Billions of bacteria/virus's/bar germs rush into my bloodstream as I shudder half from the pain and half because of how stupid she is.

The next morning I wake up and my ear looks like a gorilla's ballsack and is swollen enough that my earring actually was swallowed up by my ear lobe.

I feel so incredibly drained and sick, I go to the doctor. I call Sebastian, Sebastian does not pick up. Shit maybe he actually gave a shit about Flake. I'm too drained to think about anything but vomit though.

I'm at the doctors and she stabs me in the face for an hour and finally removes the earring. I go home and try to sleep it off. Doesn't work. I feel worse. I run to the bathroom and take the most ferocious shit of my life. My leg actually ends up twisting as I literally empty my entire intestinal tract in one bowel movement. I start to vomit, then realize how terrible the logistics of the combination of those two events would be and refrain myself. It gets worse though.

This literally continues for two days, and I still try and go into work, drink afterwards, and be me. That's probably why it got worse...

Now I'm at work, this is far from an awesome experience for me, I'm off to the ER.

I parted with my co-worker and the same thing happens just as before, expect in the ER's bathroom. Another shit to end all shit's, it must have sounded like Harold Camping's end of the world predictions were finally coming true, for when I emerged from the bathroom panting, the only other person in the waiting room stared at me like she just saw me choke a retarded puppy to death.

I was diagnosed with something I cant pronounce, but all in all I couldn't eat any real food for a few days. After the whole ordeal ended I had to have the earring in the infected ear removed, I made peace with Sebastian, Sebastian found the irony in that fact that he now had two earrings and I was stuck with but one, I lost ten pounds, and when I could finally eat again the first thing I went for was a delicious Five Guys burger, and I chased it down with a Chipotle Burrito.

Life is good again...

And that is the story of how I ended up with one earring, and your Uncle Sebastian with two...

Thanks universe...

Life's Great Dilemmas

I keep thinking I really really want a dog/cat... then I realize I'd have to touch its poop.

Desire for companionship < disdain for handling feces...

The Infamous Condom Hand-off

Everyman needs a wingman, I don't care how awesome you think you, there are just too many potholes on the very bumpy road to Pun Town, and it's a very beautiful feeling to be a member of Triple A.

However, it takes a very special someone to operate the way Sebastian and I do. There are Elite Black Ops Teams that can't pull off the stunts we perform under the pressure of enemy fire.

Example:
Girls - are you guys twins?
Sebastian - of course!
Me - fraternal...

There is never any of that looking at each other trying to guess what the other is going to say, its all creepily telepathic. However, there are times, where we really just impress ourselves.

One night we were out at the bar. It was me, Sebastian and his cousin. I met a girl, and she was with her friend Model. Girl, Sebastian, Cousin, and I drank as I watched Model get hit on endlessly by a barrage of guys that were lining up to buy her a drink.

As the night went on, I picked up "the vibe" from Girl. "The vibe" is when she laughs at everything you say, and her hands aren't holding just her vodka cranberry anymore.

I was unprepared for this, and sent Sebastian on a covert ops mission with Cousin. The objective was simple: get condoms, and somehow deliver the package without Girl seeing.

Last call came rather quickly, and Sebastian had yet to return. We all moved outside, and things got tricky, at this point it would be a little more difficult for Sebastian to just pull me aside and do a quick hand-off. Then I saw him and Cousin approaching. I always felt like this is one of those you had to be there moments, so I'll paint a little word picture for those who lacked the fortune of witnessing this.

My back was facing the street, Girl's back was facing the bar, Sebastian and Cousin were approaching from my 9 o'clock / Girl's 3 o'clock, and Model was off somewhere with a guy who was probably tying to pump one last drink into her.

As Sebastian was finishing up the last three steps on his approach, I dropped my left hand to my side, raised my right hand while holding my phone to ask Girl for her number, the instant she was distracted Sebastian walked by my 6 o'clock. I twisted my hips just enough to give Sebastian some cover, and without even looking down at my hand, he made a flawless hand-off while turning his back to me to face Cousin, as if nothing happened. Our hands connected without either of us looking, the package was passed off to me, and I was able to easily drop it into my back pocket. Even though he handed me like 7 of them (I guess he thought I was feeling really ambitious).

I could not have PLANNED it better. Those could have been MI6 top secret government files on condom shaped flash drives, and James Bond would have missed it.

The only reason I was inspired to tell this story, was the fact that Cousin was beyond words, and was infinitely impressed. I personally did not think anything of it, it was just another normal night for us.

We would make a great recon sniper team...

GTL

I love checking myself out in the windows of cars. I always look super jacked. Everyone in car window world must work out all the time.













This is what I get when I Google "car windows". A bunny on a trampoline! Oh that's priceless...

Sixes Can Really Make You Appreciate An Eight

Life is certainly relative. One thing is only cold because something is hot. And once you turn your stove's burner to high and stick your hand straight in there, it's hard to find something hotter. Once you reach that new high, everything else just feels cold.

As soon as I ate that first bite of a Five Guys burger I was torn with emotion, I was so angry when I realized I had been eating nothing but cow lard my whole life, but ecstatic I found the nirvana of hamburger meat. Five Guys was my new bench mark, and every other burger I would ever eat would have to go head to head with this new found glory. This burger ruined any chance of me enjoying another burger again unless it could top these new found standards. It's a serious catch 22.

Secrets ruined bars for me, How I Met Your Mother ruined television for me, V-necks ruined clothing for me, Daniel Tosh ruined standup comedy for me, Call of Duty ruined video games for me, Sex ruined video games for me, 10 ruined 9's for me...

Chivalry R.I.P.

Chivalry is pretty damn dead...

Chivalry is like a 1992 Geo Prizm with 198,000 miles on it. Not highway miles, cold hard city miles.

If it works, it'll only work sometimes, and in the very rare event that you can get it to start up, it's just a matter of time before it dies. It'll probably make it a couple miles up the road, then it's a long, sad, shameful walk home.

Assholes finish first...

First The Toilet Seat, Now This?

Why do I have to hold the door for you?

Chivalry is long dead, and before I get maced to death by feminists, let me clear something up: this message is for everyone!

Now, I'll hold the door for my date, call me old fashion... But I'm trying to get laid.

However, our social standards for door holding have gotten out of control. Sebastian and I almost got knifed at a Five Guys yesterday, and our only crime was that we walked through a threshold.

A fat stubby old lady who obviously hates herself, this world, and all of its wonderful creatures was about to walk out of said Five Guys as we were making our approach. We made it to the door first, which in any normal race would be considered a win, but instead of recognition and trophies, we got a "hey fuck you" glare as we walked in the Five Guys letting the door swing shut behind us. Sorry we forgot to roll out the red carpet and valet your car, but we are hungry and we don't give a shit about you... at all... Why didn't your loving troll of a husband dive in front of the 7 foot tall revolving pane of glass and steel to protect you from having to lift your flabby arms past your mouth?

He may care about her, but 2 slices of cow fat on a kaiser roll wins this fight every single time!

If she and a Five Guys cheeseburger were both hanging by my arms dangling thousands of feet above a rocky basin and absolutely certain guaranteed death. And I could easily pull them both up, saving both her life and the Five Guys cheeseburger...

I would quickly let go of her just in time to catch that one sauteed mushroom that always breaks loose from the burger when you pick it up for that first life changing bite!

And I would sleep just fine that very night.

Moral of the story: Eat more Five Guys! Fat girls are overrated...

The Good, The Bad, And The Rapture

Bad news: I missed out on all the rapture parties
Good news: we get to have another one!

Great news: Harold Campings is going to have to drink kool aid all by himself now

Ohhh Yeahhhh!!!!

HELP! We Tried To Mug Him!

A guy I knew was jumped the other day.

Three black guys came out of no where and tried to take his money. The usual Baltimore city special, except they fucked with the wrong retard.

Yes, my friends, there is definitely something wrong with this kid. And I'm not sure if it's God's way of protecting his most fragile creatures or the steroids in their medications, but retards sure are strong!

Lucky for him the US military didn't pick up on his gimpy walk or the fact he probably can't even point out Iraq on a map much less spell it, and made him a marine.

Mix retard strength with the killing power of a US marine, and you have Bitty.

Bitty, had brusies all over his body, giant welts that look like a gorilla beat him with a cast iron baseball bat. However, his face still had that shiny autistic grin on it, without a single scratch, or a single bruise on either of his mis-aligned cheek bones.

See, Bitty blocked his face through the entire ordeal. And somehow had them running for their lives before the end of it.

Now, I wasn't there for it (unfortunately), but the last dozen times I have seen him he was wearing the same shirt. Or, he has an entire closet full of shirts that say "LIFT OR DIE" in bold, size 600 font, on the front of them.

I'm not sure if these muggers could read, or if they didn't see his six foot wing span, AKA the width of his shoulders, but Bitty, retarded or not, is not a man to fuck with.

I'm pretty sure all three of those muggers picked up a few job applications that day.

Thanks for setting them straight Bitty!...

Got Balls?

Sebastian - dude.. you would do it if there was 25k in front of you
Me - fuck no, all sorts of weird shit starts happening to you
Sebastian - like winning the tor de france 7 times

Summer Bucket List

1) Smoke a fatty
2) Sky diving
3) Ride the tricycle
4) Take hip hop classes
5) Cruise to the bahamas
6) Road trip... to somewhere
7) Spend a day/night in Arlington
8) Rock climb a 5.11b
9) Be able to once again bench 225
10) Be able to do a one handed handstand
11) Win the lottery/marry a rich girl
12) Day drink in 3 random cities
14) Visit California
15) Get a sweeeeet tatoo
16) Smoke a cigar and pretend to like it

Homeless Dude Awareness Month

Where do homeless guys go? After the sun sets they seem to disappear.

My guess is coinstar. Yes, it's worth paying the 9.8% processing fee to not have to deal with those pushy bank tellers.

"Do you have an account with the bank?"..

No, because I like sex, and I wouldn't want to have it anymore because I'd get so frequently fucked by your overdraft fee's. Bank's ruin sex for me.



Women cant drive... that's it... I just want everyone to know where I stand on this issue...

Cinco De The Night Everyone Makes Terrible Decisions And Blames It On Tequila

Good job Mexico you got something right! A real go getter country, they produce our finest bus boys, dishwashers, hotel maids, shitty weed, and a place you can vacation if you don't mind the cross fire and having your family kidnapped.

So, here is to you Mexico! Salud!

I will drink to your quasi glorious victory over a French army! Wait, let me guess, they retreated? Right?

Oh hold on, I've just been informed by the French Generals, they don't like Mexico and were planning on leaving anyways... Oh well, let's drink!

SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS!!!

9 Out of 10 Dentists Agree, Life Is Good

Dentists make too much money. The hygienist does all the work. He just comes into the uncomfortably small room for 5 seconds, stabs me in the mouth, and leaves. No please come back, I like to cuddle after I've been fucked in the mouth!

And even though the dental hygienist is usually hot, he takes every ounce of satisfaction I might get from that by blinding me with a flood light 2 feet from my corneas.

Then my insurance company and I stand side by side, bend over, and smile while he anally penetrates us, using the bill as a condom.

It's no wonder the suicide rate in that industry is so high...

Tough life...

Caution: Don't Read

Had to take my friend to an abortion clinic. Not my favorite way to spend a Tuesday morning, but who wants to sleep in when they can be active in helping to lower the crime rate and increase our city's standardized test scores.

As I was walking up the stairs to the entrance. I could not help but think, wow, what a horrible idea. Not the abortion, but this business model. Who puts an abortion clinic on the third floor of anything? Are they trying to lose business, this stair case should be padded. 300 dollars, or 18 steps? that’s not a difficult decision... If you cant afford condoms I know you aren't exactly wiping your ass with benjamins… you know how many 40’s and New Ports that could buy you... or your fetus’s daddy?

We’ll chalk it up to an accident (second one this month, not like you’re unfamiliar with that term, get to falling)

Just do it right, I'd hate for you to have to explain to junior why his head has a dent in it and his speech slurs..

I hope they have a suggestion box... install elevators...

Drunk

Why does Bob Barker give a shit if my dog get’s knocked up.. You should be worrying about the stupid frat boys on your show reproducing, not my collie… Stop wasting my time, they don’t know what a Cabang mahogany dresser costs, they shopped at Ikea for the two pieces of furniture in their dorm room. Get them to bid on condoms and the morning after pill, a case of natural, something on their level Bob…

That’s why hazing is so great… I hate that schools have started to step in on this, putting an end to what was left of natural selection… When we're lucky, it kills off a few of them… seriously needed population control, If you’re going to drink your own pee to impress a bunch of guys you hardly know, I really wonder what kind of contributions you’re going to make to society…

I can flip my own burgers…

Sex On A Bun

Step 1: Take bite

Step 2: Realize you have been lied to you're whole life. Money CAN buy you happiness, and it only costs $5

They call it a haute dog, and the only thing that led me to this nirvana was crowd psychology.

Why the hell is there a line outside of a hot dog stand? Not just a line, but a stretch of people that made me think they were holding American Idol auditions around the corner.

Oh, i'll tell you why. It's because it's a haute dog stand!

If Jesus appeared before me... giving me the option to either know the numbers for tomorrow's mega millions jackpot, or be able to turn any regular hot dog into a haute dog, just by sheer will...

I would have to think for at least a few seconds... just because it sort of sounds like a trick question... Then use my winnings to buy out the haute dog stand and relocate it to the corner of my bedroom that is closest to my head while I sleep.

You've felt the mist of Niagara Falls, you've climbed the tallest mountains, and sailed the widest oceans... But you have not lived until you have had a haute dog!

Failure To Launch II

God damn it's bright.

Usually when Sebastien puts the top down I can't help but get excited. But it felt like a monkey took a small hammer and chiseled away at my head while I slept.

Alcohol does not agree with me like it use to. They call it getting older, I prefer out of practice.

Sebastien looking for a new place to live led us to Mt. Washington. Which looks like it was a nice town at one point in time, but then someone took a really big shit on all the houses. Someone probably thought it was a good idea to put a bus line through there. Downhill it goes.

We pulled in front of the house which, as every house in Mt. Washington is, looks as if some tornado picked swept it from another town, and dropped it right on top whatever helpless structure was originally built there. But he called it a "Bungalow". Which I guess is what hipsters call a house.

I got a nervous feeling approaching the house, the two overgrown Japanese maple trees gave the porch a red tint, and there were at least two dozen Jamenson bottles hanging from the porch's ceiling as ornaments. As if to warn trespassers, and strike fear into anyone who wishes to lay siege. I began to imagine the degenerate that currently resided in the residence, then promptly turned 180 degrees and began to walk back to the car, right as I was about to bump into Sebastian who had yet to realize he should be frightened I heard the door open.

I turned around to see a guy about half my size, probably a little older, and had a few characteristics that gave him sort of a leprechaun look to him. I almost laughed thinking about this guy sitting on his couch, watching Jerry Springer all day, and drinking Jameson from the bottle with an extra large turbo straw.

We stated our business, and he invited us inside so we could look around. I thought for a minute, realized leprechauns are probably vegetarians, I have no reason to worry, and made my way through the threshold, half expecting to see a pot of gold in his living room.

But instead, found more decorative bottles of Jamenson. Since it turned out he was a Hopkins graduate, I wrote off "degenerate alcoholic", and decided to go with "who cares he has enough brain cells anyways". Besides the bottles weren't laying on the floor scattered among syringes, and used condoms. They were displayed with class and pride, as if they were his trophies. And to be honest, if you can drink that much Jamenson and still be functional, you deserve some sort of recognition for such dedication.

Me- Like Jamenson?
Leprechaun- A little, why?

We bid farewell to the lad, and went on our way.

Driving through Mt. Washington is nice. You get to play the "at least I'm not that guy game". The town itself can be pretty charming, but you can't help but throw up in your mouth a little bit when you see a 46 year old virgin with a mustard stained shirt scratch his balls on his way to pick up a 40 of Bud Ice and New Ports.

However, it has it's diamonds in that ruff... Somewhere... I think...

Untitled.doc

Everytime I have a birthday, I usually get a couple free shots at a bar, but the real gift here is a chance to reflect.

Life is but a learning experience if nothing else. And we have to learn everything for ourselves, people can try and guide us, but all in all each person must face his own journey alone.

I think the only way you can truly live with regrets is if you give up on learning. Then the prospects of personal growth go right out the window.

Each year I realize how stupid I was the year before. I can not believe how much I thought I had figured out. I wish I had documented my thoughts, and was able to objectively figure out how out there I actually was.

I bought a small notebook today. I'm going to carry it around with me wherever I go, writing down whatever comes to me.

I left the first page of it blank though. I'am in a sense just beginning life, and I do not think I can come up with a name for a story that has yet to climax.

Possible Ideas: The greatest person who ever lived / How I became a millionaire / God, was I off on the first two titles...

Rule #76 -- No Excuses, Play Like A Champion

God that was weird.

Things seem like they will never go your way ever again, but then out of no where you get that boost which feels like you're sitting on a rocket propelled bus fueled by a blend of uncut cocaine and good times.

I hate how much life can be a roller coaster. But you just have to ride the good times for as long as you can, and when the storm sets in use the memories of what use to be to get you to the next leg of the race.

You live for two reasons, the fact that things will get better, or you're living in the moment and it's great. Either way you have to pass onto the next phase, and that can go two directions. And being that everything in life is relative, it'll end up making your life better or worse.

My friend brought up something that made me really think about moments.

There is going to be one point in your life that is going to be the best moment you've every lived, and there is going to be a moment in your life that is going to be your lowest point.

The catch is you don't know if you've already reached either point.

You could have been at your lowest point, and you have survived, which means things will never be that bad again, it's only up from here.
And sitting on the other side of the spectrum is your greatest moment, which you too could have already lived.

It is one of those beautiful mysteries of life that you just have to accept, but definitely is interesting to ponder.

Life is truly what you make of it, it is merely what your mind perceives it as. If you are in a good mood, you will attract good things. As much as I sound like one of those corny middle aged life coaches that people pay desperate amounts of money for, it is completely true.

I'll save you $2,000 and a trip to a cheap hotel. Just make a list of everything you want to do in life, and do it. Think about that list everyday and make an effort to change.

You have to condition your brain. Are brains are built to deal with things that want to eat us, and survival. So you have to knock it out of its primal nature and start thinking like you own this world. The list helps you to start centering your focus on your goals, but then you have to work on that shitty attitude or else you'll get no where, and you will chalk all this up to a failed experiment.

Put yourself in a good mood, I don't care how you do it. I bought myself a new pair of shoes today, and it made me unnaturally happy, but you know what, that set a chain of wonderful things in motion. It sounds stupid, but try it sometime.

Don't mean to sound rude, but change your god damn mood...

The Perfect Rapist

What amazing weather! I needed to be outside, the winter has left my skin begging for some sunlight. Tennis seemed like a perfect way to suck up some vitamin D.

I made my way to Patterson Park. Beautiful during the day, full of joggers, rolling hills, artwork, dog, and well, you get the point. However, at night it's a drastically different story. Much like that Will Smith movie where he had to duck inside his house every night once the sun set, same general concept. Except instead of hives of flesh hungry zombies you get a fair amount of rapists that post up behind innocuous objects, lying in wait.

If you go jogging at night, or "feel like taking a stroll" through Patterson Park after the sun starts to set, I don't care what your story is, you're asking for it. You must want it. Rape is going to happen, and you know it. You either are extremely sex deprived or you're trying to fill some sort of bizarre rape fantasy, either way I'm not accepting any excuses this time. Don't come and cry to me, you probably did it for attention.

I think I got aced about six times while this was going through my head. Scoping the park, I thought about what the most "perfect rape" would be like. Not that I would ever rape anyone, especially not in Patterson Park, but I was trying to figure out who would be the Dexter of rape and what was so appealing about this park that made it a rape magnet.

Another ball nearly took off my head as I lost interest in tennis, time out, I tossed my racket next to my other things and swapped it for a bottle of water, taking a swig, of the now luke warm substance. If I wanted to solve this riddle I think I just had to ask myself a pretty fundamental question.

What makes a good rapist?

I mean, if you're a construction worker, you're going to want a solid build, and if you're a detective, deductive reasoning is your best friend, so what would a rapist put on his resume?

Screw it, tennis is old new. Let's wrap it up.

Leaving the park I had my "ah ha" moment. The best rapist is someone who would not need to resort to rape in the first place. Which is probably why its a pretty stale industry.

You're going to need great abs, and a body that is in fantastic shape, I'm talking Olympic level athlete, otherwise how else are you going to be able to chase down your prey. A slow rapist is a hungry rapist.

Now, if you aren't in perfect shape you're going to have to lure your prey in. I'm talking great jaw line and eyes that just make your heart melt. Because if you can't outrun them, you have to outsmart them and get them to trust you. The problem is, I don't know how many mug shots you've seen, but the rapists I have seen aren't making it onto the cover of GQ magazine. And there is something about a good looking guy with swag that just leads you to trust them, and in the case of a rapist, lure them in and do your thing.

But why would a great looking guy with perfect abs needs to rape anyone? Just ask, right? I mean would Johnny Depp, Brad Pitt, Ben.... Affleck ever have to rape anyone? If it were possible I'd say they'd be the ones getting raped.

So there you go, rape is a losers game.

Suck it Ben...

Fuck Luck

AHH! We've been fooled! Blinded by our own ambitions and drive it's easy to miss what is really going on here.

We are all apart of some weird universe sponsored lottery. The winners drive Porsches, fuck models, and do hard drugs without any sort of ramifications. While the losers circle crowns it's champions in the world's premiere ghettos and 3rd rate countries. They get their pick of whatever the winner's leave in their dumpsters, fuck gingers and lose their soul's trying to figure out where they went wrong.

Well... where the hell did we go wrong? Maybe you didn't...

Lo and behold the survivorship bias!

Basically, you only hear from the survivors, for they're the only ones around to tell their stories. You win the war, you write the history books.

The winners tell tales of struggle and hardship, talking about their determination while shedding a tear for the hard times and their struggle, but hey that sounds sort of familiar with what you are going through. There is sort of a comfort knowing that "hey this bastard made it big, and look his life sucked worse than mine at whatever given point in his life he is referring to". So just keep up all your hard work and you'll pull through, and maybe tomorrow you won't be in debt up to your eyeballs/have an ugly wife/it'll rain happiness, right?


The problem with that thought process is that the millions of others that didn't make it past that low point aren't making guest appearances on Oprah. So, we have this skewed view of how much determination and success pays off, and thus people continue to try and beat the disgustingly small odds of life, because people like Justin Bieber, don't deserve his $15,000 watch and his $3,000 shoes.

I am not condoning hard work and determination, but the message I am trying to get off is that you have to understand sometimes it is not your fault that you failed. You can do everything right and still finish in the middle of the pack. You just got the short end of the stick covered in poop and grass, while Justin Bieber got the one covered in dance lessons from Usher, and princess cut diamonds.

My favorite quote is shoot for the moon, and if you miss you'll still end up among the stars .. If you really think about it, you'll realize how incredibly lame that quasi inspiration quote is.

The catch 22 about this whole life thing is that life is basically holding a metaphorical gun to your head and making you spin the roulette wheel, and that gun is loaded with hunger, debt, and government welfare programs. You can't just stand there and give up, you have to play the lottery, so might as well give it your best shot. But hard work only tilts the odds in your favor to a slight degree. It's like playing roulette but taking out those annoying double zeros. You'll break even at worst, but hey maybe you'll hit a couple times, win big, and you'll get that supercharded sports car afterall.

Best of luck?...

Hi MTV, What Gives?

The closer you are to the top the farther the fall...

I started out today not caring about this stupid audition, my odds seemed recklessly small. But as the day tredged on my hope only snowballed and I ended the day answering over 63 short essay questions that led me to believe I had a shot, a good shot. And I spent the remainder of the day caring, staring at my phone, waiting for it to ring with a voice on the other end saying

Guess what? Life decided to cut you a break...

Whatever, their loss, stay positive bitch!

What A Way To Wake Up

I wake up just in time to see a pillow on route to my face. Lofted from a across the room from an already wide awake Sebastien.

God damnit, just give me 5 more minutes. I've slowly become less of a morning person, and this sort of thing has become rather difficult for me. He quickly reminds me that he set his alarm for 7:30, I look at the clock next to my bed, and somehow feel grateful that it's a little after 8.

I promised him the night before we would jump in the local reservoir even though winter has yet to surrender to spring and the water would be nothing short of a painful experience.

Why? I have no idea.

However, being who I am, I didn't hesitate to agree to such an arbitrary activity.

We made our way upstairs for breakfast once I was able to drag myself out from under my comforter. Separating myself from the comforts and simplicity of my bed to join Sebastien in his unsolicited excitement.

This was suppose to be a sort of cleansing experience. Or that is what he kept telling me and what I told myself to avoid thinking I was absolutely insane. If it involved any sort of shot to improve some of the ever present problems in my life I was all about it. Unfortunately being warm was not on my list of problems, however Sebastien preached all sorts of benefits this experience would deliver.

But in all seriousness it sort of opened my eyes.

Alright, let's count to 10 and jump. Standing at the waters edge, Sebastien had to prepare himself for the final jump for reality finally struck him and he know knew what he was up against.

1..2..3..4..5..6..

I got tired of waiting and shoved him in. For two reasons...
1.) There is no point whatsoever to count all the way to ten
2.) I knew if he jumped I would see how miserable he was and not jump myself, so by pushing him I had to jump in or become the biggest asshole slash worst friend on Earth so by pushing him in it sort of contractually binded me, and I dove right in behind him.

I sprawl out of the river beating Sebastien back to the shore, and as I look around I ask myself, who really does this? It just goes to show that all of us die, but not everyone lives. I realize that is a quote from somewhere, but I lack the desire to cite that source, since I know I lack the audience that would lead me to any sort of law suit.

I have become somewhat perplexed with life lately. For I am in a completely different spot then I saw myself but a year ago. I had such high hopes for certain aspects of my life that never panned out, and other things in life that worked out better than I expected. However, it makes me seriously reflect from time to time and even caused me to completely break down nearly a week ago.

So, I have been somewhat drifting through life, and when I received an unexpected phone call from Sebastien asking me to do something that might snap me out of my "life phunk" I sort of instantly jumped on the chance to do something out of my daily routine.

Jumping into a cold river not only rid my body of a few impurities, but it also showed me that we go through life too fast, we lose people we love before we can truly appreciate them for how wonderful they are, we always getting stuck in routines, give up hope too easily, refuse to accept what is right, and try to make our mark in this world when it costs too much of who we really are.

I know it sounds stupid, how can jumping into a river enlighten me in such a way. I literally was in freezing cold water for a few seconds and now I have this new view on life?

No, don't be dumb.

This took years to figure out, and life just happened to deliver the message today. In a sort of gentle yet cliche fashion.

As I was walking back up the cliff I had just jumped off but a few moments ago, I crossed paths with a tree. A tree that had fallen quite some time ago, but my mind sort of flashed back merely a year where the tree holds a bit of personal significance. It made me look at how much my life has changed, and reflect on the friends I had lost.

I do not need to get into the details of what happened, but some of my best friends from a year ago, well, I could not tell you where they are today, and it made me sad to think our lives may never intersect again.

However, right now, reflecting on all of this I realize I stand here today with the sum of all that has been. My thoughts began to drift out of the moment.

I turn around and all I see are roads that are broken, full of misguided hope, lost friendship, good times intertwined with bad times. However, it has led me to the wonderful people in my life today, and those are the people that matter the most.

Because no matter how those roads behind me appear, they look past that and see me, trying to live, learn, and become a better person with each passing moment. I soak up the lessons life is so gracious to teach me, and grow with the people around me.

...The people I love, and so the story goes.

Thank you for being apart of who I am, and who I stride to be...

A Serious Conflict of Interest

What was the first feeling that you came across this morning?

I can not remember, I'm always too glued to the present. With each passing moment as it becomes something that fades out of existence, it's as if it never mattered, slowly losing its significance. My ever important present, losing its value as it becomes cemented in my past.

So what truly matters? Who we are, our collective subconscience, is tied up in the past; we are focused on the future; we live in the present.

A serious conflict of interest.

When a child falls off his bike and realizes that his unexpected transition to the pavement has left him with a gash in his knee, you might listen to him crying and have thought his world was to perish, but 20 years from that moment, he may never draw from that memory again.

I look back on my life. A past time that all too few of us practice, trying to figure out exactly what lessons I have learned.

Not the obvious lessons. Anyone who is to play with fire and get burned will practice caution in the future or Darwin may find himself another case study. But what subtle lessons have defined me? What experiences changed me for the worse and for the better? Am I the strongest person I could be right now or am I on the weaker side of that spectrum?

A humble moment on a park bench watching the trees sway with an August breeze, a smile from a stranger, a brief moment in a far off city shared with a good friend.. All seem somewhat insignificant, but could define you in every way you do not realize.

How we move with those moments define us...

A Eulogy for a Friendship

Friendships are too loosely defined. Too be honest. I have no answer either.

I can not define a friendship.

For it is just a trust. But what I shared with him was something beyond trust. And keep your gay jokes to yourself, I've heard them all, I'm straight. If you do not believe me read my other posts.

It has been a few weeks now, and I have yet to really see him. This has happened before, where he finds something else that strikes his interest, spends somewhat of a hiatus from me, and then is back and it's almost like a bookmark was placed right where he left.

I can not explain what exactly brings us back together and pushes us apart, for we have never even had an argument much less a lasting disagreement, but I do not really question him when he disappears.

This time just seems different though. Going from talking everyday to a strangely cold "hello" when I call, is a hard transition. I was the yin and he was the yang, we spent every waking moment together for the past year, and when we werent in immediate sight of each other we were on the phone or texting. We got to the point where I could read his thoughts, talking was almost obsolete.

I spent some of the most thrilling and fulling moments of my life with him, and I had never been so broke or out of luck.

He says he has found a greater happiness, and I would not understand. He is probably right. I break life into simple equations and fill those equations with the varibles that fit. He looks for a deeper meaning that he can only understand.

I'm writing this feeling deeply upset. For so many reasons I can not explain. There are so many holes in my life that are left unfilled and there is nobody that will ever be able to fill every nook of those empty spaces.

For he was my other half. And although I am writing this wishing I still had him as much apart of my life as it was.

I am also hoping he never reads this.

For he is happy, and that is all I want. I just hope that somehow I changed his life for the better, and he knows that he was the biggest influence of my life.

"What is a friend? A single soul in two bodies."
- Aristotle