SAYSUMTHIN STYLE

who's that peakin in my window...

2010-02-12T10:05:00.000-08:00

POW! nobody now! got an email today thanking me for registering for webcamclub.com. (picture me laughing my ass off.) i have no idea what this site is, or how i might have "registered" for it, but i definitely thought that it was funny as hell that i qualified for membership. i was thinking maybe this was like getting an honorary doctorate from a university just for being really rich. like, have i logged enough webcam hours to automatically earn myself magna cum laude webcam status? i think so.

however, after the funny wore off from receiving that notification i started wondering how in the hell they really did target me with this email. i haven't ever heard of this site. (which i also can't check right now because my job BLOCKS access to the damn thing! that can't be good.) they managed to get my email, which isn't really a huge deal i guess, because every spammer on earth can do that. but still, slightly unnerving. and the log in is definitely sumthin that i could see myself using, which begins to beg the question, are they hacked into my mind. different topic. lastly, and definitely not the least of all of my concerns is if someone has managed to actually gain access to my webcam sessions. if so, let me take this opportunity to apologize to any ladies who may find themselves featured on some barely legal hot latin teens porn site. but hell, i did tell you i'd make you famous, right.

tortured souls.

2010-02-11T09:51:00.001-08:00

so i promise not to do this too often. i know it's a crappy way to start the morning. but maybe it'll actually help us all appreciate the day just a bit more. so i hit the wire again this morning to check what was going on in the world and found out that alexander mcqueen, the british fashion designer, was found dead in his house this morning. cops are calling it a suicide for now. i can't say that mcqueen's stuff was exactly my style, but there is no denying that homeboy was a beast in the game.

i often hear people talk about what a waste it is for someone to take their own life, and when it's a rich celebrity you inevitably get the comments about how the common man would never throw it all away like that. i submit this, you never know what's going on in a person's mind. and one fact that i find to be undeniably true is that the most talented people in this world often have the most persuasive demons. however it shakes out, i hope alex has found some peace today, and that we all may cherish this day that much more.

uuuhhhh...yes please.

2010-02-10T09:44:00.000-08:00

thank god for women's lib.

2010-02-09T11:45:00.000-08:00

so i'm checking out the news today, and come across a stimulating (intellectually, of course) article about who made the cover of this year's S.I. Swimsuit Issue. if you haven't had the pleasure of discovering this news, the young lady happens to be Andy Roddick’s wife. good for you Andy. so i'm thinking, hot girls, sports. sports, hot girls. so naturally my mind makes its way to women's pole vaulting. (gotta love the intricacies of the human brain.) so if you're thinking women's pole vaulting, only one name should come to mind. no, not the 10 time world champion Yelena Isinbayeva, but rather the NO TIME world champion hottest pole vaulter ever Allison Stokke. so from thinking about Allison, my next thought was naturally how happy i am that women have progressed so far in our society that they no longer have to wear lots of clothes during athletic competition...or during any other time for that matter. thank you bra burners!

oh, couple of side notes. Yelena Isinbayeva is still pretty hot...from certain angles. and two...just wanted to give the ladies a little sumthin. after all, how could i dare write a post celebrating women's equality without being equal?

super style...uuuh, i guess so.

2010-02-08T09:49:00.000-08:00

you know what looks good all the time? winning. so i went into yesterday’s game cheering for the other guys. yeah, yeah, yeah. mostly i was fine with either team winning. my only gripe, like every other year this happens, is all the damn bandwagon jumpers. look, call it "a feel good story." call it "your team sucked this year and you had to root for somebody." call it anything, but don't call yourself a fan. especially not of this team. their real fans have been through a lot during the four hundred and eighty-nine years that they sucked. so don't call yourself a fan now when you didn't go through the tough times. it's just rude. i mean because really, we all know that you're just glad that finally the team with the sexy black uni's are finally cool enough to rock out in public.

it's funny the things that you come across...and when.

2009-02-05T16:35:00.000-08:00

if this shit doesn't give you goose bumps, hurry and get your ass to the morgue before you start stinking up the joint.

living for real.

why women drive like crap: an exposition

2009-01-27T11:19:00.000-08:00

so the short answer is because they don't have penises. (is that the plural of penis? peni? never had to refer to a group of them before.) anyway, so yes women drive like crap because they're missing that little (or big) member between their legs.

think about it. having a penis teaches guys all kinds of useful things that translate into being better drivers. first and foremost it teaches us to control speed and proximity. these are the two main culprits contributing to women driving poorly. you have all seen the women who feel slighted on the freeway and speeds up for about a hundred yards until she's in the ass of the car in front of her, then has to slam on the brakes. she will often repeat this maneuver over and over again for god only knows what reason. well i know! it's because she has no penis. just think about how women have sex. it's "slow, slow, slow. harder, deeper, faster, faster. slow, slow, slow. faster, faster, faster." that's exactly how they drive. there's no rhyme or reason to it. no particular cadence. just pure id.

now on the other hand, think about how guys have sex (the good one's anyway). we have to pace ourselves. we have to be in tune with our surroundings. we can't just go ramming away at whatever is in front of us, with no regard for the speed that the given situation may call for. if it's a tight squeeze we have to carefully pick our way through the terrain. if the road, or girl, happens to be wide open, then we can swerve about with little worry of having an ill times accident. you see, our penis have taught us lessons.

it is true enough that not all men are good drivers. i have often wondered if they are also poor lovers, or possibly just lacking in adequate genitalia. however, i would argue that even the smallest penis is still larger than the biggest clitoris, giving men, at the very least, a substantial head start.

how much is your sanity worth?

2009-01-20T11:42:00.000-08:00

so, black president, blah, blah, blah. here's the fucking news of the week. there was a plane crash...in a river...and people fucking lived. are you serious? i know these people must be wondering what they've gotta do to get famous. i mean, any other week and they are national heroes or some shit. but not this one. this one they only get five minutes on the today show and then kicked to the curb. oops.

so today i hear that the airline sent them each $5000. which got me thinking, would i knowingly subject myself to a plane crash if i knew i was going to live in order to make $5000? i mean hell, if you were GUARANTEED that you weren't gonna me maimed or any shit, would you do it? it's really just like a roller coaster on steroids at that point, right? so here is what i've come up with...no. hell no. first off, i already hate fucking flying. i try telling myself that i can't die in a plane crash because my cousins inventing the fucking airplane, but that really doesn't give me much comfort. and i always do the baby check when i get on a plane, hoping that god wouldn't crash one with innocent babies on board. but then i think about all the babies that die everyday in car crashes, or even in the damn hospital before they get some boob action from mom. and on top of that i figure i've done enough dirt in my life to outweigh the pureness of a new born. so i'm fucked. but yeah, 5 g's would be nice. but i just know that shit would fuck me up for life. i think i'd probably throw up just hearing the word plane after that. even if people were just saying "plain bagel." or "let me explain." and besides that i really don't want to go through the rest of my life remembering the last time i shit my pants. call me crazy.

so yeah, thanks mr. airline exec, but you can keep your 5000 bucks. now you want to put a few more zeros behind that shit, and we might have something to talk about.

french kiss(off).

2008-12-29T17:23:00.000-08:00

have you ever noticed that when you have a bad experience with sumthin or someone everything you come across seems to remind you of that bad thing. well, she's from france.

weekly wtf - my president is a fucking ninja!

2008-12-18T14:57:00.000-08:00

so while last week was a tough call on what should make the weekly wtf, this week was absolutely NO contest. i'm sure everyone has seen this footage of soon to be ex-president bush getting moccasins hurled at him. this is the funniest shit that i've seen since star jones did that interview talking about how she shed that extra person she was carrying around by eating salad. riiiiight star. but, being the observant fellow that i am, getting the ninja shoes of death thrown at you is not nearly enough to earn the distinction of appearing in my blog. so what has earned baby bush this honor, you ask?

one, for someone who has tried and failed on countless occasions to throw a baseball 60 feet without skipping the fucking thing across the ground like a rock in huck finn, this dude dodged those damn shoes like he was auditioning to be neo's dad in the prequel to the matrix.

second, WHERE THE FUCK WAS THE SECRET SERVICE!?!? those cats must have been up for a damn week smoking that iraqi goodness! i didn’t see one of them show up until both shoes were thrown (homeboy had to reach down and take the second one off, mind you), and some REPORTERS tackled the assailant. if that doesn't convince you that everybody is done with mr. bush i don't know what will. And THEY WERE SHOES PEOPLE! i'm no physicist, but i'm pretty sure bullets travel faster. get on your jobs fellas.

third, all i could think about after was obama on the phone getting the names of every last agent on that detail to make sure none of those motherfuckers got within 100 miles of protecting his black ass.

i loooove l.a. (not really. but this was almost worth the trip.)

2008-12-12T16:50:00.000-08:00

so one of my childhood friends and i have been working on hanging out for a minute now, but to no avail. she's in showbiz down here in lala land (of course) so she's been too busy for her little buddy that she used to let glue dry on her hands with. but at last she invited me to a little soirée that she was attending so that we could hang out, catch up, all that jazz. so i get the invite, don't think much of it, i'm just excited to get to see big al after all these years. (small footnote: my friend is gorgeous. which is only applicable when mixed with being in los angeles, and apparently i should have guessed sumthin like this was going to happen.)

she tells me that the shindig is at "this guy’s house." again, i don't think much of it at the time, just figuring that this is some friend with a nice place that she's borrowing for the night. so i get to the spot and it turns out to be a pretty substantially pimped out pad. yawn. panoramic view of l.a. double yawn. art from the l'oeuvre, pictures of him and some of the biggest celebrities of all time. triple yawn. ok, i'm lying. all this shit was impressive. it made me rethink girls getting randomly sexed up by c-listers. i mean, this guy was 80-years-old and if he would have agreed to pay my rent for a few months we might have been able to work sumthin out.

all that being said, it was still just a house with a view and some cool pictures. but the next thing i know this guy is talking about a date that he went on when he was younger, with a girl by the name of marilyn monroe. MARILYN MONROE!?!? are you serious???? which i would have certainly thought was a load of crap except for the fact that he had a picture of him and lana turner having drinks. so yeah, i mostly can't describe how fucking cool it was to be in the presence of someone who had been in the presence of marilyn. all i can really say is that shaking his hand made me somehow feel as though i was touching...well, it was fucking cool.

ummm. errrr. uuhhhh.

2008-12-11T09:28:00.000-08:00

did ricky martin come out of the closet, and i missed it? last i heard he was trying to convince people that he was hopelessly in love with this beautiful, giant-sized, spanish blonde...who was, let's be real, a little on the masculine side. i saw an interview with the two of them once, and never for a second doubted that if they were really together, ricky was livin' la vida loca at the business end of her strap-on while he washed the dishes. so anyway, fast-forward to today and he's on the cover of spanish people magazine holding his twins without a mother in sight. now when was the last time you saw a famous doting father on the cover of a magazine with his newborns, and the baby mama was nowhere to be found? hell, didn't britney and kevin even do a spread together?

so i do a little investigation, cause i'm about giving me faithful readers the down and dirty details, and i find out that these little latin l'efants (sorry, ninos doesn't start with an 'L'.) were born to a surrogate mother. seriously!?!? ricky, can i call you ricky? you want me to believe that not only were you madly in love with some hot spanish dominatrix, who according to you, you couldn't be with for some mysterious reason. but now you're telling me that you couldn't find some chick willing to have your babies without a contract? come on man, I KNOW 10 GIRLS WHO WOULD HAVE YOUR BABIES! you mean to tell me that you don't know a few???? so all this leads me back to my original point, did ricky come out of the closet and i missed it. it's cool ricky. we'll all still love your little hip swivel, even if you're gay. (oooopps! i just threw up in my mouth a little.) just stop lying to me!

weekly wtf - video edition!

2008-12-10T16:56:00.000-08:00

so it's been a doozy of week already, and it got me thinking about what to do for this installment of weekly wtf. i mean i had planes killing families in their home, moms throwing "hooker parties" and having their sixteen-year-old daughters as the appetizer, and one of the more mundane but nevertheless newsworthy stories or the week, a governor selling a senate seat in order to get his wife on tv or some shit. with all of these tasty morsels to choose from i decided to go another way. one word: oprah. two words: oprah's fat ass is fat again. (ok, that's like five words.) so the weekly wtf is this: how in the hell is oprah getting fat (again) newsworthy. and not just newsworthy but HEADLINE newsworthy. i pulled this from CNN's homepage for god's sake. granted, a friend of mine would point out that CNN reports on britney spears too, but come on. the woman has been fat her whole life. i'm SURE she was a fat ass baby. sometimes she's less fat, but still...always...fat. let's stop being surprised by the obvious people. until then, enjoy ms. winfery in her 1980's splendor. love those pants girl! there's even a little tina and cher for all my queens out there!

fat. skinny. fat. skinny. it's like a jenny craig flip book!

if it's good enough for the kids on 90210...

2008-12-09T12:17:00.000-08:00

so there's sumthin like 3 billion people in the world right. and being that i'm a hopeless romantic i believe that there is only one of them that is truly the right one for me. that girl who i'm going to meet and just know on the very first date that she is the one i want to spend the rest of my life with, raise a beautiful family with, and share all of the world’s blessings with. that said, i also believe that there are about 500,000 girls that could give me a really amazing orgasm...i'm just saying!

having come to this realization i really don't see what the big issue is about dating a girl whose friend you've dated. i mean, the girls i date are pretty. it follows then that they have pretty friends. which leads to a high probability that i would be interested in dating them as well. i really don't see what the big deal is. my friends are more than welcome to help themselves to any of my discarded slags. i'll even tell them which ones like a little scoop in the poop. (that was gross. i apologize.) but seriously, this thing we call life is about trying to be happy right? and while i don't believe in trying to reach said happiness by any means necessary or anything, i do think that we owe it to each other to lend a helping hand and give our friends a little "vaya con dios" if they wanna bang our ex's. i mean if i want to get at your friend there is a pretty good chance that...i'm just not that into you. :)

besides, this thing about completely de-animalizing (not a word) ourselves is such a crock! at our essence we're just monkeys with clothes. and since that is a biological fact, my personal belief is to stop pulling the wool over our own eyes and realize that this whole "you dated me so all my friends are off limits" shit just isn't natural. i mean, papa bears run through ALL the mama bears in their hood. why is it so "ugly" for me to do it?

weekly wtf - maybe try skipping the nagging this week.

2008-12-04T10:53:00.000-08:00

i know you need to vent. i know you think we're not worth a damn anyway. i know you believe that you're stronger than we are. but maybe, just maybe consider the fact that the last thing we think about before we leap from the bridge is you asking us for the 15,000th time if those pants make your ass look big. get a fucking clue...of course it does!

just a thought.

i wanna teach!

2008-12-04T09:23:00.000-08:00

so this blog is kind of about two things. actually not "kind of" it is about two things. i'm taking the CBEST this weekend. which for those of you who have had real careers your whole life is the...shit, i don't remember what the letters stand for, but it's the test you have to take if you want to be a teacher in cali or oregon. so yeah, i'm taking it, because from time to time i'm struck by the urge to mess up little kids’ minds. i'm not studying or anything because i run around telling people how smart i am all the time, so i figured i should be able to pass this shit without studying. and if in the horrible event i don't pass, i will definitely reconsider telling people how smart i am in the future. so there's that.

the other thing that this blog is about is dudes hitting on girls. now i don't profess to be some don juan or anything, i have definitely come to realize in the last couple weeks that my "game" is pretty weak, and if i didn't happen to look like this i definitely wouldn't be able to convince anyone to date me just because i was charming and funny. but i do at least pride myself on not dropping any pitiful ass cornball lines on women when i talk to them. that is, i don't think they're pitiful or cornball.

so anyway, i'm at the gym last night and i see this girl who is incredible looking. which isn't that big a deal, considering i work out at a gym in L.A. that is famous for being a meat market...which i imagine is difficult status to acquire in L.A...or not. but this girl in particular is pretty damn amazing. blonde (i don't even like blondes), maybe 5'9", golden brown skin (but not overcooked), and she has one of the most perfect boob jobs i've ever seen. they're just fake enough so that she can wear this red backless halter top with no bra, but not fake enough that the boobs look like she mugged the ball girl at Wimbledon and tried to hide the evidence in her shirt. so short story long, she's hot. she disappears for a while, and as i'm leaving i see her sitting with her girlfriend in the front of the gym, no doubt trying to get noticed, and it works. except not in the way she intended. so this guy comes up to her/them, and he is one of the dorkiest guys i've seen in a while. late thirties, crazy long frizzy hair, body of guy who was making his first trip to the gym, you get the idea. so let me be clear, i give him credit for even talking to this girl, cause i know i wasn’t going to, but the next thing i know i hear him say, "hey, you guys come here often?" WHAT!?!?! SERIOUSLY!?!? i was a half second from grabbing this fucker for a regroup. the look on the girls' faces was like "huh, did you really just waste your time saying that to us...AND you look like that?" couldn't believe it! so yeah, as i laughed all the way home, i considered starting a school for cats who have even less game than me.

(winter) cleaning.

2008-12-01T11:18:00.000-08:00

so i'm sitting on the toilet yesterday, and i begin to look around (cause i'm a curious sort of fellow), and i notice a few long strands of hair on the floor. upon closer examination i realize that the hairs are not all from the same person. four different types in all.

my first thought, "man, i hope none of the owners of this hair happened to detect that some of these hairs weren't theirs. my second thought, "good thing i don't date blondes, or i'd probably have a lot of explaining to do by now." my third thought, "i should clean."

i love her more than all of you.

2008-11-24T09:22:00.000-08:00

the chicken or the...ham.

2008-11-20T09:44:00.000-08:00

speaking of black guys...

so i've often pondered a little question about girls who "only date black guys." i mean, i've often pondered tons of questions about those girls, but this one in particular actually seems half interesting. i don't know if anyone else has noticed this, but it appears that a large percentage of these girls are, well, large-er. not necessarily fat or anything, just that they've reached their "oscar meyer status," (i.e., they plump when you cook 'em).

so here's my question, did these girls grow to like black guys because they feel like black guys are more likely to accept their curvy physique, or did they grow their curvy physiques because they like black guys? i mean i can understand either philosophy, i'm just not sure which one it is. the first hypothesis, is kind of a self preservation thing, right. "i (the girl) have all this jelly. hence i need a man whose toast is adequate enough to accommodate it." (don't worry; i'm smiling right now just writing this shit.) or the latter theory would be kind of the hunter mentality. which is to say, you don't catch lions with whole-grain wafers right? you want a lion, you better make sure you've got some beef.

so yeah, in closing i guess the question still remains, which comes first, the chicken(head) or the ham? i'm glad we had this talk.

weekly wtf - he said what!?!?

2008-11-19T09:46:00.000-08:00

so it’s official, the first person to publicly call barack a nigger is (drum roll please)... ayman al-zawahri, a.k.a. - al-qaida's number two hitman, i mean henchman, i mean hitman. so this fool made a video (cause you know that's what those punk bitches do when they're not blowing people up) saying that obama "does the bidding of whites." which is of course true, but he didn't have to say it like that.

but the thing that really got me was that he said that barack was "the direct opposite of honorable black americans." which is sort of funny to me. as if this fucker really believes that there is such a thing as honorable black americans. i mean first of all, are we really to think there is an accurate moral compass governing a person who orders hits on civilians and children? not to mention the fact that i believe even his so-called honorable black americans would still fall into the infidel category which would condemn them to death in his eyes anyway. and let's not even get into the possibility of his daughter bringing home a black dude. we all know how that would end. if you don't, it's sumthin like that old ass bat chasing his daughter and the black dude around the kitchen table, over the goats and shit, trying to skin them with a butter knife? do they have butter over there? you get the idea.

weekly wtf.

2008-11-13T09:34:00.001-08:00

so i haven't been too successful at maintaining my ideas for "regular weekly posts," but in another moment of pure genius i've decided that i will attempt to bring you a "weekly what the fuck" segment featuring some weird shit that i've heard, read, or thought. mostly i'll try to keep it to legit news stories (lord knows there's plenty of off the wall shit to go around).

in this first installment of weekly wtf i offer for your amusement/horror this little ditty. I like to call it: H.I.Weeeeeee!

now i don't know about you but this is one of the most disgusting things i've ever heard. and more disgusting than that is that there are probably some sick ass religious nuts reading this thinking, "those boys got what they deserved." (if you imagine me with a country accent it sounds funnier. and we all know that ever religious freak has a country accent.) ahhhh, i love the smell of crazy in the morning!

and i thought leaving with no money was bad.

2008-10-21T11:29:00.000-07:00

so i realize that i'm in danger of turning this blog into a stripper-palooza, but:

1. who the hell cares!
2. piss off if you don't like it!
3. if you have a problem with reading about strippers on a regular basis, we probably aren't that close anyway.
4. if you have a problem with reading about strippers, you clearly have horrible literary tastes, so who gives a damn what you think.
5. a wise man once said...write what you know.

so i'm on the wire today, and come across a dandy of a story involving an extremely unfortunate gentleman and his tragic strip club episode. let me paint this picture for you. there's a middle aged guy, caucasian, kinda soggy around the midsection. short-sleeve white button down shirt. (think michael douglas from falling down.) thinning hair. dockers. you get the idea. so he's gone out for a night on the town. trying to escape the misery that is his marriage. brought his bowling ball bag, cause that's what his wife thinks he's really doing. little does she know that instead of his ball, the bags contents actually include an identical white shirt to change into, which will be void of the impending cotton candy stripper scent, comb and hair product, cause getting your hair messed up is really all that happens at strip clubs, and the secret can of old spice body spray, just for good measure.

so he's jazzed about his evening. the possibilities are endless. he gets to the club, exchanges two twenties for 40 singles. the waitress brings him his watered down coke. he takes a seat at the main stage, just as his favorite stripper "angel" is on her way up. she's got her mood music playing...def leopard, poor some sugar on me, classic. so she gets into her routine, she on the pole, he's hucking dollar bills like they're food rations, he works for UNICEF, and she's somali. everyone is having a grand old time. then out of nowhere one of her stripper shoes (not to be confused with hooker heels) flies off her foot, smashes the ceiling mirror, shattering it. the shoe comes down on our unsuspecting patrons head right before a hail storm of glass shards. I COULD NOT MAKE THIS SHIT UP IF I TRIED. so he gets his head split open by the shoe. if you've ever seen one of those things close-up you can imagine how bad that looked. his face gets cut up by the glass, and he's out the better part of his 40 bucks. you try explaining that to your fucking wife.

so he's suing.

addicted to addiction.

2008-10-16T10:53:00.000-07:00

has anyone ever heard of an ugly person being a sex addict? i'm just saying. what kind of shit is this? first of all the whole premise of this addiction is ridiculous to me. i mean, i like fucking...a lot. does that make me a sex addict? i'm not gonna waste my time doing any actual research on the subject, but i'm relatively certain that in order to be an addict you must have a craving/need that you feel you can't live without. now i'm familiar with some physical addictions, those that cause some biological reaction and require some type of medical treatment. (i.e., dope fiends, alchys, and the like) and i'm cool with those being called addictions. i mean, on some level i feel like those people are pathetic, spineless amoebas who should just get a hobby, but nonetheless, i've witnessed the shakes and all that from trying to detox from those substances so i can understand. but when we get into the realm of these made up psychological addictions, i really start to have a problem. basically we've decided to call any unchecked behavior an addiction. people are addicted to shopping, eating, and now FUCKING? oh no, no, no. doing sumthin pathologically because it makes you feel better about how miserable your life is just makes you an ASSHOLE. it doesn't make you an addict. allow me to let you in on a personal example. there was a time a few years ago (or last week) when i found myself frequenting the ballet (a.k.a. – gentlemen’s clubs) on a far too regular basis. i did it because having boobs in my face was a nice way to spend an evening. and paying for that little treat allowed me the freedom to completely ignore any conversation that took place during the course of said activity. but at some point i realized "hey, why am i eating ribs with some teenager named luscious sitting on my lap at three in the afternoon?" i wasn't addicted; i just had defaulted into a behavior that made me feel good. nothing more. nothing less. i guess my point is calling these things addictions just gives the "afflicted" person an excuse not to take responsibility for their behavior. sack up. get over yourself. and do sumthin productive. or at the very least find an "addiction" that helps others. be addicted to curing cancer, or stem cell research...selfish bastards.

i am remiss.

2008-10-08T14:39:00.000-07:00

so i have been living in L.A. for one month and one week so far, and haven't written anything about my experiences to date. so here goes....

it sucks. the end.

funny...only not.

2008-09-03T18:35:00.000-07:00

if a dated a handicapped girl no one would be surprised. i don't mean a retarded girl...except that no one would probably be very surprised about that either. but what i mean is if i dated a girl with one leg, or an arm missing, or if she was deaf or blind, i honestly don't think that anyone who knows me would be very surprised. definitely not nearly as surprised as if i dated an ugly girl. i'm not sure how i really feel about that, or what that says about how people see me, but it is kinda funny...only not.

(sigh.)

2008-08-31T12:57:00.001-07:00

have you ever had a day start to suck the day before the actual crap day even started?

so i'm moving. a little sad about it. my mom and i went to lunch for probably the last time in a long time. my hip has been feeling like it belongs to a 68 year old contortionist mother of three. fucking eharmony commercials keep playing. that shit doesn't work! there's nothing but ugly people, fucking crazies...and me on it. not anymore. (sorry ladies, you'll have to go back to meeting me in the strip clubs.) i go to a party with a bunch of my old coworkers. they're old coworkers because i worked with them before i got fucking fired...i mean, laid off. fucking bullshit. i got fired. laid off is for "executive assistants" too dense to realize they're fucking secretaries. not that i care about that crap ass job, i just like to be the one doing the breaking up. i think i got drunk off of one jack and coke. saw six girls that i wanted to hit on. didn't hit on any of them because i don't even live in this damn town anymore. saw another girl who was cute, who must have thought i was going to try to hit on her because she would walk twice as far as she needed to in order not to walk near me. (note to the sort of cute asian girl: i would have hit on SIX other girls before i even got around to speaking to you. and one of those girls was married. so kiss my ass right in the crack.) so yeah, then i woke up, and the day already sucked. i still have a mountain of fucking laundry to do. misty may and keri walsh lost. fuck today. that is all.

this is going just a bit too far.

2008-08-28T09:22:00.000-07:00

so i'm watching a little bit of the DNC (that's what the cool kids call the Democratic National Convention) last night. I'm watching it because in case you haven't heard it has become fashionable to care about politics...thanks a lot Diddy. so anyway, since i have to have something to pretend to be interested in, instead of just getting a girl naked, when i take them out to dinner, i figured i could catch about five minutes of the DNC (shit i feel cool just writing that), and look like i was all "involved."

so it just so happens that the five minutes i did catch was the part where former president Clinton was again doing his best "i really do like black people" impression. it was a good speech. some funny jokes. but i was a little confused about one thing he made mention of a couple of times. i swear he kept saying "vice presidential nominee Joe Budden."

now i know i haven't been keeping up. and i know that everyone is all excited about a "black" man running for president. but isn't an Obama/Budden ticket taking this shit a bit too far? someone please tell me that i just misunderstood dear sweet billy boy's country ass backwoods accent. then again, maybe it's a good strategy move. i mean are you really gonna try and kill Obama with this guy waiting in the wings? i think not.

i think i'm pregnant.

2008-08-07T12:14:00.000-07:00

so i wake up this morning. it's like any other morning. i brush my teeth. take a shower. (did that turn you on?) lotion my body. (i know that turned you on.) pull out some clothes to wear. and suddenly in the middle of getting ready i'm overcome with the overwhelming sensation that i'm going to puke my guts out. sadly, this isn't all that rare of an occurrence for me, as i often brush my teeth a little too vigorously and engage my very delicate gag reflexes. but as i made it through this mornings brushing without incident, the thirty minute delayed vomit reaction does concern me somewhat. so, at this point my mind goes to the place that any sexually active, thirty-year-old male's mind would go.

i decide that i must be pregnant.

i nervously begin to scour my brain for any slips i might have had in taking my pregnancy pills, or maybe there was a condom that didn't function as it is intended. i have also been known to create tremendous reverse condomic pressure while ejaculating, which has actually been sufficient enough to suck a girls unfertilized egg out of her ovaries, through the latex, and into my body. trust me, it's far worse for me to live through than it is for you to read about. but that's a story for another time. point being, that i'm trying to remember if i noticed that happening recently. i also begin to wonder if there is any possibility that the last kiss i had might have been so passionate that it actually set off a chemical reaction in my brain strong enough to convince my body that i'm pregnant, which would consequently cause me to simulate morning sickness. however, as i have not noticed my nipples becoming tender, or excreting any milk, i decide that this is unlikely. so after much deliberation, while performing modified lamaze breathing so as not to erl all over myself, i come to the conclusion that i am likely not pregnant and am just suffering from being so extremely disgusted with some of the women in my life that it is actually causing me to become physically ill. which is pretty sad, but at the same time is a huge relief...because i'm just not ready to raise a child on my own.

the car.

2008-08-01T12:05:00.000-07:00

people often find themselves put out by the close relationship that i have had with my cars over the years. that i'm careful to take care of them (which i do with most of my possessions), that i enjoy just driving in them to nowhere in particular, and that i name them. i know that this is not a rare thing to name vehicles, people do it all the time. but i'm kind of superstitious when it comes to naming my cars, as i would be about naming a pet or a child. my superstitions were magnified ten fold when i named my last car "angel" not so loosely based after my last girlfriend's name. the car, whether by coincidence or by fate turned out to be the nightmare of my life. all that she didn't do was kill me. which i guess should be looked at as a victory in itself. but because of that experience i have hesitated to name my newest car for fear of putting a hex on her with the wrong name. for this i humbly request your assistance.

here are my criteria. i always name my cars with the same first letter as the first letter of the car make. in this case an "m." girl's names are mandatory. monica and any spelling of megan won't work. (sorry megan, i'm still a bit raw.) other than that, it's game on! oh, she's red by the way, and kinda stuck up, in case that matters in making your selections. any help you can offer would be greatly appreciated. hope you all have a filthy weekend! and remember, peanut butter does not work as lube, but can be wonderful in helping to set the mood.

30.

2008-07-31T09:56:00.000-07:00

first off, for you miserable mutherfuckers out there, don't get excited and think this is going to be some kind of "woe is me" post. if you're looking for self pity, go pick up a star magazine and see what amy winehouse is up to.

as for what this is about, here goes. so as a couple of you may know i'm turning the big 3-0 this year, and i've been trying to decide an appropriate way to celebrate. i'm not big into getting gifts from people, due to some fortunate/unfortunate events in my past. mostly i've found that the true cost of receiving gifts from people has too high a cost associated with them. i'm not into doing cartwheels in order to prove to people that their time and money was well spent. if you're buying people presents so that they feel obliged to tell you how great you are, you should absolutely stop. i also don't appreciate the unspoken guilt that is often wrapped neatly in a bow. and lastly, most of the people i know are broke, and can't afford to buy me what i really want anyway (i.e., plane, boat, aston martin, etc.), so i'd rather they just give me a hug. (aaawwwww.)

now don't get me wrong, this isn't me being all anti-material goods, buddhist on you. i just prefer getting myself presents. that way, no guilt. no faking like i like something that i really don't. and i already know i can't afford what i want, so i just don't try. given that frame of mind, i've been thinking a lot about what to do for this birthday being that it's kind of a milestone. not necessarily because "oooohhh, thirty, soooo important." but more like, if my black genes kick in and statistics hold true, i'm officially more than halfway done with my life, so i better get busy.

so here is what i've come up with. i keep a list of girls that i've slept with. not as some trophy case, but because most of the girls i've slept with have been very forgettable. (yes, i'm saddened by it as well.) hence i need a list to make sure i don't forget any of them. so i was perusing the list the other day and realized that it currently stands at 28 souls. (don't worry, you probably disgust me too.) being the smart fellow that i am a lightning flash went off in my head, and i realized what i should absolutely get myself for my birthday! can you think of a better present for me to get myself than to get my number to an even 30 on my 30th birthday. i know, i know, my genius even astonishes me sometimes. not only is the symmetry quite exquisite, but it serves the practical purpose of allowing me to cross the menage situation off the list before i settle down. which will spare my wife the burden of knowing that my marriage to her has prevented me from truly living life. i'm a humanitarian, what can i say. so there it is. wish me luck..."and a happy new year."

howdy doodly neighbor.

2008-07-30T09:57:00.000-07:00

wowzers! how about those last few weeks, eh? let me begin by offering half an apology for not writing lately. only half an apology because i've been diligently out living in order to provide all of you with interesting little tidbits of information to hopefully brighten your day. i know i'm suuuuuch a thoughtful guy. and it's not about the money...i do it all for you. :)

now that i'm back in action i've got lots to discuss. i'm gonna pace myself though, because let's face it, my life isn't that exciting, so i don't want to blow my wad all on one post. so you'll all be happy to know that life is grand, and i've never felt better. mostly because i've managed to trim just about all of the negative people out of my life (short of some douches at my job). and yes, this REALLY is me writing. and NO, my body hasn't been taken over by aliens. which i wouldn't necessarily object to, as long as there were no anal probes involved, and i could get it back eventually.

so in my mission to help my fellow human beings, here is the news and notes of the week. i picked up a book by felix dennis called, how to get rich. i've been promoting this thing to a few of my closest friends, and figured that i'd share it with the rest of you as well. i haven't actually gotten to the "getting rich" part of the book yet, but his ideas on which types of people are capable of becoming rich are very interesting in and of themselves. i'm guessing a lot of you are going to have some gut check minutes realizing that you're not really built like that. but again, interesting nonetheless. and besides, who says that a guy worth $900 million dollars even knows what he's talking about.

what else? if you haven't done minnesota in the summer, i highly recommend it. scenic. quaint. a ton of really great old victorians. fun times. well, i think that'll be it for now. you know i'm not as young as i used to be...gotta pace myself. hope you've all been well. and don't forget, sex with midgets can be fun, just make sure there are no ceiling fans around.

phew, that was a close one.

2008-06-10T15:57:00.001-07:00

just found out today that 1 in 4 new yorkers has herpes. good thing i've only been there 3 times.

i hate hillary.

2008-06-04T11:27:00.000-07:00

so i've been kinda slippin on the blogging lately, and for that i do apologize. but something kinda newsworthy has happened so i figured i should get on here and throw out my two cents. hillary clinton is a punk ass bitch. now i'm not calling her a bitch, my mom raised me better than that, and a woman has to do A LOT to get me to call her that. i am calling her a punk ass bitch like i would call a dude a punk ass bitch. some of you may have heard that there is a non-old ass white man presidential candidate. sort of important news. but as i've been perusing the wire this morning i've come across ONE article devoted to him and the historic significance of this event, and about twenty articles devoted to her bitch-assed-ness. sure some of the blame should be placed on the media choosing to focus on her instead of him, but in my eyes MOST of the blame is her's for how she is handling getting her asses whooped. look, i'm a jock. a jock trapped in a tiny little body, but a jock nonetheless. and i believe that in the realm of competition you can (and should) talk as much shit as you feel is necessary to win, but when you get beat down, you should step aside and let the winner bask in their triumph. if she had won all people would be talking about today is what a tremendous accomplishment it is that a woman has come this close to being president. and the reason that would be the talk is because obama isn't a punk ass bitch. he wouldn't be crying, or trying to squeeze some more money out of the deal, or raining on her parade in any way. i can't even believe that there are people out there who wanted this woman to be our president. you think baby bush got us into some shit, you have no idea what kind of fights an egomanica woman with a chip on her shoulder can pick. but that's beside the point. i'm not saying this because i'm rooting for him. i actually lost ten bucks on him winning, i'm saying this because i believe that you should have enough self-respect as a loser to sit down and shut the fuck up.

some people just aren't that important.

2008-05-16T11:15:00.000-07:00

so i'm watching some silly reality program a little bit ago. this lady comes on and they super impose her title up on the screen as "executive assistant." a term that has always sort of bothered me. i mean, i understand people's need to feel like they are serving some larger purpose in the world, but does it really affect you that much to call yourself an executive assistant. you're a fucking secretary for god's sake. there's nothing wrong with being a secretary. just like there's nothing wrong with being a stay-at-home-mom. (note: i'm not comparing the importance of moms with secretaries. i am simply making a correlation between the connotations of the two titles. please don't send hate letters.) sure your role as a secretary makes you a lot less important in the grand scheme of things. and you could be replaced by anyone with a GED, who can type 30 wpm. but let's face it, in reality some people just aren't that important. get over it. i feel like secretaries who insist on calling themselves executive assistants are the same kind of people who want to ban dodge ball because it "negatively affects children's self-esteem. it's not dodge ball that's doing that...your kid is just a weakling. it happens. just like it happened that you ended up fetching someone's coffee and scheduling appointments. someone's gotta do it. i'm sure your boss would be lost without you. i'm even sure that some of the secretaries in the world are capable of doing amazing things. it just so happens that they currently find themselves in the roll of secretary. but regardless of what you can do, let's all try and be real with ourselves and call a spade a spade. so in case you're confused as to whether you are a secretary or an executive assistant, allow me to help you out a little.

here is what it says if you look up secretary in the dictionary:

secretary - somebody who does clerical and administrative work such as word-processing, filing and arranging appointments for a person or organization.

do you know what it says if you look up executive assistant in dictionary...NOT A FUCKING THING. exactly.

...if i don't have youuuuuu.

2008-05-12T13:57:00.000-07:00

so i don't have anything pseudo funny, pseudo interesting, pseudo anything kind of stories to contribute today...or for the last few days for that matter. i'm tapped out. i get like this sometimes. feeling like people just suck the life out of me (and not in that good porn star kind of way). so i've been working, working out, trying to line up my ducks...but they're slippery little fuckers, and don't seem to be cooperating much. so that's it. hope you are all doing well. i've got nothing...

institutions of higher earning.

2008-05-07T09:26:00.000-07:00

so i'm sure that most of you have heard about "cocaine state," i mean san diego state university by now. if not, here's the quick run down. cops arrested nearly 100 people in possession of 2 kilos of coke, enough ecstasy to start 52 orgies at an old folks home, 48 weed plants (check the picture, that's a lot...and that's not even all of it), some other assorted goodies, oh and a few guns for good measure. from my understanding all this stuff was found in a couple frat houses. uuhhh, ya think!

now while school administrators, ex frat daddy presidents, and local officials are doing their best to try and seem shocked and horrified...i know better. now while i have never taken any elicit drugs, and have only recently become an alchoholic, i did, in my college days have a few run-ins with said party favors. my first exposure to the prevalence of drugs in college was at a "study group" at a sorority house. needless to say my sails were at half mast just to be invited into the sorority house, mostly because i hadn't yet found out that sorority girls were all doped up hookers. so about five minutes into being at the "study group" one of the girls asked me if i needed some NoDoz. IT WAS FOUR O'CLOCK IN THE AFTERNOON! a few minutes after that some other girls engaged me in a conversation about how one of them was worried that she had a deviated septum from doing so many lines the night before. IT WAS WEDNESDAY! from then on, the instances of learning that all these rich kids were completely half trashed all the damn time came fast and furiously. i couldn't figure out how it was that i was barely making C's and these dope fiends were getting straight A's. let me rephrase, i knew that i was flunking out cause i wasn't studying. i just couldn't figure out how they weren't. matter of fact i was more amazed that they weren't dropping dead like...well, like co-eds at san diego state. i did find out later that they were getting A's because a select number of frats (i.e., ALL OF THEM) have files of the old exams that they cheat with.

so you'll be glad to know that the crack (no pun intended) police farce in san diego only needed two college kids to O.D. in a few months time before they figured out they weren't dying from an excess of knowledge.

i can't even get into all of the details of this story, because there are so many fucking details. but what i would like to touch on is this disgusting perception that college is actually useful, and that the best kids in the country get to go. i had a classmate in high school who got into yale. he was poor (oddly, not poor enough to qualify for government aid) and couldn't find a way to pay for it. last time i heard about that kid he was waiting tables at a restaurant whose food wasn't very good.

they said that a couple of the drug dealers at S.D.S.U. were gonna become law enforcement, which by the looks of the new york kkk, i mean "police" they would have probably fit right in. but that's for another time.

don't get me wrong, i'm sure if you're gonna be a chemist (that wasn't supposed to be a joke), or a mathematician , or a rocket scientist you probably need to go to college to learn that shit. but the rest of us just go because we can afford to (kinda), and that's what you have to do in order to not get "naturally selected" out of the damn earning class. or in my case, because that's where all the hot girls were...who weren't pregnant. what i'm saying is that college is a damn joke. that anyone who uses it to convince people that because they got a degree they are smart is also a damn joke. and that kids like these fucking coke heads are gonna get off, while they're killing their classmates with tainted product, is also a damn joke.

the moral of this story: say no to drugs and stay in school.

cornbread...pick it up!

2008-05-02T09:59:00.000-07:00

so it's been brought to my attention that there are gentlemen out there who need some help in the dating department. now while i can't for the life of me coach any guy on how to be a good boyfriend, stay faithful, or maintain civility in a relationship, I CAN HELP YOU GET A DATE. my history in this area is storied and prolific. so i thought i'd impart some of my wisdom on the masses in a new weekly segment where i will post a pick up line every friday that i have successfully used in the previous week to meet a girl. you then can use the line to get yourself a date. pretty sweet, right...and it's free!

here are my guarantees regarding the posted pick-up lines:

1. i will only pick up girls who most men would rate at least an 8...which face it fellas, is probably better than you're doing now. (i'll try and post pictures when possible so that you can judge for yourself.) i'm not really into blondes so you'll have to give me some leeway there.
2. i did not get slapped in the face when using the line.
3. i have called the number that i got, and it works.
4. most times i will try to have at least met the girl for drinks, thus proving her willingness to hang out, but this will have to be subject to my availability that week.
5. i'm a quality, not quantity kind of guy, but in the event that i get a few number i'll just describe who i feel is the best of the bunch.

pretty simple right.

now guys, you will notice that some of the lines might sound a little cooky, but trust me, the humor is part of the appeal. always try and smile, and have fun with it. if the line doesn't fit you perfectly, feel free to tweak it a little. it's about being natural, so make it fit you. all right...GAME ON!

oh, one more thing, i ALWAYS start off by introducing myself. it helps break the ice, establish a little rhythm in the conversation, and keeps you from sounding like some freak with a practiced one liner.

LINE OF THE WEEK:

so, i live with my mom, drive a mercedes, and am hung like a fairly large dog...only it's not quite that pink.

GIRL STATS:

name: angela (same as my evil ex, but i shall proceed in the name of science.)
age: 24
education: college graduate
race: filipino
height: 5'3"
cup size (roughly): B+

i've been on this kick lately of kind of spouting off my resume, because i'm kind of over the beating around the bush tactics. if you happen to not live with your mom, or you don't drive a mercedes this line can still work for you. it's so outlandish that when she asks if that's true you just laugh it off and tell her no, that you noticed she had a lovely smile, and wanted to see it again. (BONUS LINE!) CHA-CHING! angels sing, champagne (and digits) rain down from the heavens.

well that's it for this week. happy hunting gentlemen. have fun, and remember, "girls are like wild animals, they're just as afraid of you as you are of them. but who the hell knows what they're going to do...so it's better if you attack first."

shit load.

2008-05-01T15:39:00.001-07:00

it happens to me quite often. that i meet people who are both so completely full of shit, and so hopelessly unaware of that fact that i wonder..."could i be that full of shit, and just not know it."

i mean i seem to have some of the same characteristics as these people. i am relationshipless, and convinced that it's someone else's fault. i often am inarguably certain that i am right, and can formulate a very precise train of thought that will illuminate this fact to most anyone. lots of people DON'T like me. i have not one, but a few very nearly pathological personality traits.

so i look at them, in all of their completely shit filled splendor and i think, are they...me? and honestly i don't have any answers.

most of my day i feel like i'm watching american idol, where somehow, 25 million people, who also happen to NOT have record deals, and are coincidentally tone deaf, vote on who the next "musical sensation" should be. i am awe struck by the fact that all of these people think that being able to hear makes their opinions of music valid. so there i am, going through my days equally awe struck by the fact that people think that because they are competent enough to keep a roof over their head and make it through their days without meeting with an untimely demise from a tragic pencil sharpening accident, that somehow they "know things" about living. i mean there are people with downs syndrome living full productive lives, but you're not gonna let them map out your future are you?

someone's opinion has to be wrong...right? but clearly it's not going to be yours.

i was told when i was a child that one of the most important traits to possess in life is the ability to "know what you don't know." this seems to be lost on most people i come across. and most people i come across would probably say the same thing about me. the problem i have with that is that most people aren't as smart as me. sadly, they would probably say the same thing. which brings me back to my original problem. could i be as full of shit as everyone else?

i sure hope not, cause they really seem dumb.

an awakening.

2008-04-22T14:56:00.000-07:00

so i realized, just this second, right in this very moment, that there is an us and a them. actually more like there is a me and a ya'll, and the divide is vast. but i'm getting ahead of myself. so this journey into self-reflection is an on going one for me, but from time to time i'm provided with input that is so glaring and obvious that it gives me pause, and requires me to re-evaluate how i see the world. better yet, in this particular instance it caused me to re-evaluate how i see myself in the world. so i'm looking through a few pictures of a friend of mine, who is about to become a lawyer, and who has always been ridiculously good looking. the pictures are of her friends and colleagues doing what future noble men and magistrates do, and it dawns on me...i am not now, nor will i ever be a part of that club. not the lawyer club, but the club of those people, doing those things, thinking the way they think. don't get me wrong, my friend is one of those truly rare perfect people. i call people like her the "ands." She's an "and" because she gets to be gorgeous, and smart, and athletic, and funny, and cool, and chill, AND...you get the damn idea. i say truly cause she's not one of the many people who are out there TRYING to convince themselves that they're so great...she actually is. i say all this because it's important to clarify that i think the world of her and the life she's living, and at the center of it, i really wouldn't mind being a part of a world that looked like hers. the fact of the matter is, i just can't. see, i realized looking at those pictures that i had all the chances in the world to go that route, to be respectable, to contribute to society in that way. hell i even tried to talk myself into being her (while not as good looking) for the first twenty years of my life. i just couldn't get it done. and while i'm looking at those pictures i come upon the reason why...i'm just not built like that. the fact is, i'm not built like anyone i know. i've tried to be. i was in all the clubs i was supposed to be in when i was young. i talked about fancy summer vacations with classmates every year. i did the college thing, and associated myself with the "movers and shakers" because i fancied myself a mover and shaker. my friends are not just smart, but educated. not just traveled but worldly. they are the type of people who you would see dressed in ball gowns, and three piece suits looking fabulous, doing glamorous things. but on the inside, it's just not me. sure i have things in common with friends, and similar interests with coworkers, but at the heart of it, there is something in me that is just wired differently than almost all of the people i've ever met. which in and of itself i guess isn't such a bad thing, except that it does contribute to this perpetual feeling of loneliness, a feeling that no one i know can really understand who i am at my core. having said all of that, and with my new found perspective i have finally decided to surround myself with the people to whom i truly belong...pornographers.

not never.

2008-04-20T20:52:00.000-07:00

i never paid much attention to the "never say never" philosophy. i always thought that only cowards wouldn't take a stand against sumthin…that only they didn't have the guts to say that there are things in their lives that they would NEVER allow to happen. well, here i stand before you, still a man who refuses to accept the never say never philosophy. i refuse to accept it even after promising myself that i would never stop playing golf as much as i did in my youth, like i had seen so many stiffs do, even when i was forced to grow up and get a 9 to 5. i haven't played a round of golf in two years. i refused to accept never say never even though i can remember the day like it was yesterday when i stood in front of the mirror in my father's bathroom, looked him square in the face, and vehemently spoke the words that haunt me to this day. "dad, my hair will never fall out." i finally threw away my last half used can of murray's hair grease just last week, after not touching it since clinton was president. man, i looked good with hair. anyway. the list of times that i’ve been wrong with my "nevers" goes on and on. most of them sit in a not so far away place in my mind taunting me exquisitely. and even though i have been wrong about what will never happen to me in my life, there is one thing that i will die before ever letting befall me. what is the atrocity that is so heinous that i vow to never let it happen to me?

I WILL NEVER EVER, IN THIS LIFETIME OR ANY OTHER, STOOP SO LOW AS TO PURCHASE A MINIVAN. NOT NEVER.

i was in the drive-thru at the local taco bell tonight, minding my own business, when the aforementioned monstrosity pulls up, parks, and a guy gets out. no wife. no kids. just him. not that having the fam-damily in tow would have excused this egregious error...cause, i wouldn't have. i bring it up only because that's the faulty rationale that i so often hear associated with the purchase of one of these "castrations on wheels." (yes, you can barrow that.) and here this pitiful excuse for a man has the nerve to leave the house driving his erectile dysfunction around town like it’s the thing to do. just disgusting. let me clear up sumthin else. anyone that knows me knows that i am still caveman enough to feel that there are things for men to do, and things for women to do. i am adamant about this, and i will be until i die...cold and alone. but in relationship to the issue at hand i see no gender difference. if you sink so low as to buy a minivan, man or woman, you repulse me just the same. from soccer moms to mister moms, i personally feel that the owning of a minivan is an admission of the plain and simple fact that you unequivocally have no taste what so ever. it’s like a woman showing up to her girlfriends wedding wearing white. shit, it’s like that same girl showing up to the same friend’s funeral wearing white. classless. i don't care how many times you’ve seen get shorty, john travolta DOES NOT own a minivan in real life. you know why, because travolta has panache. i also don't care how many electrical sliding door, eighteen cup holding, multiscreen movie projecting, seventh row fold down seating, contraptions they install in those rolling turds there is NEVER going to be enough usefulness to justify me or anyone buying a minivan. if the entirety of the swiss fucking army got together and personally designed the most spectacular limited edition, signature series minivan in the history of minivans, made it the official vehicle of the swiss army, and drove a fleet of those fuckers to whatever wars the swiss army fights, I STILL WOULDN’T BUY ONE. not if i have ten kids, not if my wife tells me she won’t ever sleep with again unless we buy one, not if that wife looks like salma hayek with the pre-baby waist, and the post-baby breasts…not even then will i buy a fucking minivan. not never.

who cares about the economy...i'm trying to decide who to kill!

2008-04-17T09:59:00.000-07:00

being that it has become fashionable to be interested (or pretend to be interested) in politics these days, i figured i'd devote a little time to being socially conscious. mostly, i don't give a shit about this election or anyone in it, but because i've actually had girls ask me if i vote lately, instead of asking me what kind of car i drive, i figured i should probably start acting like i care, so that sumthin as silly as me voting doesn't come between me and good piece of ass.

so here's the real deal on the election as i see it, and the only compelling reason to actually give a damn about who wins. everyone has become so wrapped up in the barack vs. hillary thing that they have completely overlooked the fact that in the grand scheme of things they really represent the same outcome. now when i say "represent" and "outcome" i'm not speaking about their policies, or their ability to affect change. what i do mean is that in the end it's going to be john mccain vs. [insert someone who will get assassinated here]. so there it is. the REAL issue that is facing our country. do you want to have the same president (barring mccain dropping dead of a heart attack) for 4 years? or do you want to have a sort of "relay race" of presidents? where they try to figure out who is going to go out hard and fast, and who has the staying power to pick up that baton (from the cold dead hand of another slain commander in chief) and bring us home. now to me, that's some interesting shit.

i know some of you out there are probably thinking that what i'm suggesting is horrifying. well...maybe. but regardless, i feel that it is a very real possibility, that all of the faithful voters of this country should be prepared for. i mean, i don't know how you feel about it...but 9/11 kinda sucked. now just imagine waking up one morning and having to hear "back and to the left. back and to the left." fifty thousand times, and see poor little obama's little brown brains splattered all over the pavement. or young chelsea pulling back mama's blood soaked golden locks only to have half of hillary's head come off in her hand. again, i don't know about you, but i don't want to have my cheerio's interrupted with that. and to add to the horror even more, it's 2008 people...there would be 582 channels, of color enhanced, high-definition brain matter being beamed straight into your living rooms. our parents got off easy, 4 channels, in black and white. please. we are going to be able to smell it. HAVE YOU EVER SMELLED BRAINS!?!? i get queezy just watching that monkey brain scene from indiana jones and the temple of doom. so yeah. no thanks. i'll pass.

now i realize that the whole point of terror, whether international or domestic is to scare people into not doing what they feel is right. well for me...THAT SHIT WORKS. i'm not gonna turn the presidential election into some "super survivor on steroids" where the winner/loser gets their head blown off. i've done enough dirt in my life already, i sure as hell don't need that on my conscience. call me a punk if you want to, but i know better. just like i know better than to try and go to a club in compton, CA wearing white sneakers. no sir. not me.

so place your vote for whomever you like, but just know that while you may think you're voting between pro-life and pro-choice in the future of roe v. wade, you are also voting pro-life and pro-death when you decide who you're sending to sit in the big comfy chair, in the pretty round room. so...choose wisely.

why i date strippers.

2008-04-15T13:33:00.000-07:00

the question has been posed to me numerous times. more times than i care to remember actually. and it's a question that is so loaded, that i usually don't take much time to actually answer it because i know that people already have their preconceived ideas about it before they even ask. but i thought i'd create this opportunity to actually spend some time on it, and hopefully give a few of you L7's out there a little peak into the dim dark space that is my mind. here goes.

why date a stripper? well we can cover off on the more obvious and superficial reasons first. actually, let me begin by inserting a little disclaimer here. i live in the bay area, a major metropolitan center. because of that fact, the strippers that i'm referring to are of a certain quality that you just don't find in...oh say, oklahoma. i did briefly date a stripper in arizona, but she was the first one, and i've raised my standards tremendously since then. she was also built like a brick shithouse, and had the softest skin known to man...but i digress. so anyway, it is with that perspective with which you should approach the information to follow. so, why? well strippers are hot. and while a large percentage of them do have children, they are still young enough that there bodies tend to bounce back pretty quickly, and the little tikes (that's their kids, not them) offer an excuse to go to chucky cheese every once in a while. bonus! another reason is that you get to tell your buddies you're dating a stripper. now i don't care what any guy on earth says, any man with any stones whatsoever has tried to get a stripper's phone number when visiting a strip club. and the guys who don't have stones enough to try...dream. hence, whether he is a CEO or the fry cook at Micky D's, you get major props for accomplishing what so many have failed at. next is just the shear adreniline rush that is experienced when you drop your stripper girlfriend off at work. imagine for a second taking jessica alba to paramount studios, kissing her goodbye, and telling her to have a good day at work. yeah...it's like that. disagree? my response is respectfully, if you haven't done it, you don't know what the hell you're talking about. on this next point, i'm not going to speak for every guy, but for me there is just sumthin amazing about being in room full of guys who would cut off fingers just to have your girl have a real conversation with them. sure most of them are thinking a whole bunch of other filthy ass things, but we're guys, that's what guys do no matter where they are. if dudes aren't thinking about what position they would like to have your girl in...she's probably ugly. so that about covers the very obvious reasons to date a stripper. oh wait, i almost forgot...they've always got change for a twenty. zeng.

so among the less obvious reasons to date a stripper, i will shift gears and specifically talk about myself. i'm sure that every guy has his own little secret things that he particularly enjoys, but here are mine. strippers tend to be very physically oriented people, and obviously much of their lives centers around their bodies. consequently you will notice that a lot of these things relate to that. so on my first ever date with a stripper, she flashed me coming out of a 7-eleven. we had just finished dinner! (not at the 7-eleven. give me a little credit, i took her to ihop.) granted i was a little put off by it at the time, mostly because the guys in the car next to me thought is was for them, but it's sumthin that i've grown to appreciate. along with that i just love a girl who is cool enough with her body, or at least desensitized enough to not have to put me through all of those, "am i fat?" moments. fellas, you've never known a joy that exists like the joy from answering that question with "babe, you made $3000 last night, who the hell cares!" and then you both laugh. in a word...perfection. what else? man there is so much. they'll watch the game, they have flexible hours, and i have yet to have to experience an ugly pantie day when dating a stripper. the list goes on and on. last but no least though is my all time favorite thing about dating strippers. they are always down to fight. i love a girl that will swing first and ask questions later...shit, maybe never. and even though on the outside you would never think that a girl who is that pretty would be willing to throw down, sumthin about the mentality of a stripper...oh shit let's just be real, they lack a little home training. on top of that, i think that fist fighting in the locker room is almost part of the job description, making them well practiced.

so there it is, a little more insight into the "why" of dating strippers. i'm sure some of you out there are thinking that i could find all that in a "regular" girl, and might still be wondering why i would choose to date a stripper instead. well when it all comes down to it i guess my best reason for dating strippers is...because i can.

not sure about gentlemen...but this dude sure prefers blondes.

2008-04-14T13:50:00.000-07:00

it's not very often that i have so much to say about a subject that i have absolutely no idea where to begin...but this is one of those occasions. let me preface this by saying that i love marilyn monroe. love her like she was the last woman on earth, and she wanted nothing more than to cook for me...naked, love. like i've only loved two blondes in my life, and she is one of them love. like i don't even love the other one anymore (she was my first girlfriend) but i sure as hell still love marilyn, love. that's l-o-v-e, love. so yeah, i say that because this is in no way meant to be disparaging toward ms. monroe. i just found this to be one of the most amazing things i've ever heard. so, read this. and then allow me to ask a few questions.

1. a guy paid $1.5 million to "protect her privacy." yeah. sure buddy. (there is a question in there somewhere.)

2. how fucking famous do you have to be to get your sex tape placed in FBI custody!?!? and she's dead! (now that's called ACTUALLY being famous ms. hilton.)

3. joe d. couldn't fork over more that $25,000???? some cat paid 1.5 mil joe...and he didn't even know her. that was your wife man!

4. let me get this straight, j. edgar hoover...THE j. edgar hoover, brought in A FEW prostitutes to identify JFK's wang! there are like 10 questions here, but mostly i just want to know how you find A FEW of the president's prostitutes. did he keep them in a little house in back of the white house like Hef?

5. lastly, i'm wondering if marilyn monroe, the sexiest woman to ever live...EVER...can spend 15 minutes on a blowjob, WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?

goodnight. sleep well. i'll most likely kill you in the morning.

2008-04-14T09:46:00.000-07:00

i like to do two things in the morning; sleep, and (in the horrible event that i can't do that) have sex. you will notice that talking is NOT on that list. it's not even on that list if you lump it together with the sex. i suppose some people find it odd to not wake up and start a conversation, and other people know that they aren't really morning conversationalists, but they do manage to cope with those around them by indulging in some friendly morning banter. for the record...I AM NOT ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE. i read sumthin a while back that said that i might not be a "morning person" because i was born in the summer, and somehow that has a bearing on my physiology. well good, i'm glad there is some scientific evidence for it, but when most people ask what i think the cause of my surly morning demeanor is i usually just respond by telling them that I HATE EVERYONE'S FUCKING GUTS IN THE MORNING. it's nothing personal. it's just this overwhelming feeling that nothing that has happened to you in the last 8 hours is anywhere near important enough for me to listen to. and in the event that we haven't seen each other in a few days, and sumthin really interesting did happen to you over that time span it is ESPECIALLY not that interesting to me, because i don't even care enough about you to check in with you over however many days it's been. again, nothing personal, these are just the facts. there are plenty of people who don't really care what i do in a given 48 hour span, and i am under no delusions that said individuals really want to hear all about the details of my life for that time period after they've only been awake for an hour. give it time. after all you've got at least a strong 6 hours of day left to get me caught up the exceedingly mundane life you lead. (ok, that was a little personal.) lastly, let me expound on sumthin that i briefly touched on earlier. it is this term, "morning person." don't tell me or anyone else that i'm "not a morning person." those words carry such distain and condescension, as though somehow you are better than me because your mouth runs like the damn energizer rabbit. i find that phrase as offensive as a retard would find being called a retard. (that is of course if the retard could comprehend what the hell you just called them.) but really, don't say that i'm "not a morning person" because you want to blather on about nothing at 9am, and i don't. that doesn't make me "not a morning person." that makes me sane. i mean shit, i woke up didn't i. i got dressed. fed myself. i might have even given someone multiple orgasms for all you know. that's a pretty damn full morning if you ask me. it's probably a lot more exciting than whatever you want so desperately to tell me about...and that's just my damn morning.

shit. now it is monday.

2008-04-07T09:42:00.000-07:00

for those of you who are anxiously awaiting a follow up to how the weekend turned out, the correct answer is...D: All of the above. so after deciding that i was going to lock myself in my house to prevent any weekend mishaps (i.e., make sure i didn't blow my wad, literally or figuratively at the strip club), i get a call from a girl i used to date, who is now a lesbian (cause that's what dating me does to some people). she tells me that her and some of her friends that are girls...and her girlfriend (who is also a girl) are rolling to the strip club, and do i want to come with. do i? let's just be real...there isn't that much will power in the world. so before we get to the strip club, we make a scheduled stop at this club i've been to a couple of times, and was not that excited to revisit. however, this particular night turned out to be "lesbian night" at the club, which you would think for a straight guy would be kind of a downer, but turned out to be pretty damn fun. not just that watching girls make out is fun, and seeing lots of girlie bodies in wifebeaters and suspenders is hot, but the vibe there was just chill. the music was good, and the drinks were strong. what else could i ask for. well...what else i could ask for is that the 10 straight girls that were there, didn't have any choice but to talk to me. wish granted.

so i got drunk, then we went to the strip club. after about 30 minutes of being there the girls i was with thought it was strange that we didn't get approached by any strippers. so i had to impart my extensive strip club knowledge and tell them that all the strippers probably thought that i was a pimp in there recruiting with my stable...cause that's happened before. but once i taught the girls the joys of the "dollar dollar bill long fold" they made themselves at home on the main stage, and had a grand old time. so in the immortal words of ice cube, "today I didn't even have to use my A.K. i got to say it was a good day (shit!)."

t.g.i.-not monday

2008-04-04T11:18:00.000-07:00

what a week. i wish i could say that i was having one of "those" weeks, but truthfully it's been one of those years so far...at the tail end of one of those lives for me. but anyway.

so what all happened? well, on the lighter side, the rest of my future is still in doubt/ jeopardy. two websites that i absolutely need finished...aren't, and that's not even the big deal. i happened to also break up (again) with a girl i haven't even been with in 6 years. go figure. so that was fun. not. my family drama has seemed to reach all new unimaginable heights. but fortunately for me i seem to have reached a place of not giving a shit. woohooo. i got asked to participate in a threesome (yes that's the first time). and bri still thinks it's ok to just ignore me. actually, i guess it is ok because that's exactly what's happening. on a lighter note, i just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance...no really. which sadly, i just realized writing this, is the highlight of my week. what does all of this add up to? well, as some of you may know, i am a recovering "stripper addict" and i feel that i might just fall off the wagon this weekend in order for me to get my equilibrium back. odd how large fake breasts seem to soothe me. or maybe not odd. but it's either that, or going to get monumentally drunk, which has its own downfalls. namely, i'll probably spend around the same amount of money buying drinks as i would getting lap dances. and then have to try and drunk drive myself home without killing anyone. i mean when was the last time you heard of someone being so intoxicated from silicone that they caused a freeway pile up? not never. so yeah, strip club it is. hell, maybe i'll meet my next ex-girlfriend.

walk the walk.

2008-04-02T12:21:00.000-07:00

so i'm leaving this young ladies apartment, walking down the hallway to the elevator when i hear her say, "that's some swagger you've got there." i turn, smile, take a little bow, and proceed on my way. once i get in the elevator i chuckle out loud to myself. it's one of those laughs that just comes out, because you're sharing a private joke with yourself. yeah, like that. the joke is that this wasn't the first time i've had someone comment on how i walk, and probably won't be the last. but what only a handful of people know (until now) is that The Walk, my walk, has been years in the making. that is to say that i walk like i walk for various reasons, not the least of which is that i walk like this...on purpose.

it all started when i first noticed that my father runs a certain way...more of a trot actually. i was in around the 5th grade. the run was, left hand over the space between his sternum and his stomach (usually holding his jacket together), right arm limply hanging at his side, palm tilted up at the sky. the foot movement was a light short shuffle, two parts effortless, one part deliberate. it was a run that, the first time i became conscious of it, i knew i needed to copy. so i did. over the years, i tweaked it, and turned it, and made it my own, but for the most part you can see the original in there still.

during the time that i was perfecting my run, it occurred to me that if i could shape that movement, i could most definitely craft my walk. so i did. it hasn't so much been a step by step process, as it is just strides (no pun intended) in particular directions. the short of it included three main influences. the first being eddie murphy...from the 80's. anybody who can look that cool walking around in tight ass leather pants is just a mandatory inspiration. the second is denzel. the fact that i can just say his first name is almost all you need to know about the man's walk. i've never seen anything like it before or since. you look up swagger in the dictionary, there is picture of him. the last of my influences, but in no way the least, is naomi campbell. now if you happen to be someone who 1. can walk. and 2. is vain enough to care what your walk looks like, and you don't try and put a little naomi campbell walk in your walk, well, you're just a fool. naomi walks like a damn freight train, which to me...is hot.

so besides having such expert tutelage along the way, there has also been some environmental and biological factors that have contributed to my walk. the first environmental factor was my junior year of high school, when my calculus teacher gave us permission to show up late to his class. he said that hurried minds never mixed well with math, and that we should come into his class (which was after lunch) relaxed. so, i was late every damn day. which is harder than you might think. you can only take so many long lunches. but if you walk reeeeaaaaally slowly on top of that, you're sure to be late. so i did. my dad would later re-enforce this action by telling me to make sure and take my time through college, and enjoy what was going on around me. which i of course interpreted as...walk even slower. there was the heat, the "scenery," and just the fact that i didn't really much care where i was going, because i was fairly certain it would be there when i arrived. sumthin else that has deeply influenced my walk, and a very little known fact about me, is that my left leg is a full inch and a half longer than my right, and i also have developed in my old age, a hip problem to go along with it. which many a person has mistakenly presumed as me trying to infuse some P.I.M.P. into my walk. not the case. i'm actually limping, all the time. and of course, as many have speculated, and a lucky 27 have found out, there is my "package." i'm not sure if its contributions have been more physical or mental, but either way...it sure as hell hasn't hurt.

uuhhhh...

2008-03-31T15:58:00.001-07:00

there is a pregnant man. no, i'm serious. look it up.

god is male. get over it.

2008-03-28T15:36:00.000-07:00

i can't even imagine why this is still a topic that is up for debate. oh yeah, because women will debate anything. sooooo, here is the evidence:

1. if god were female women would be able to stand when they pee. not a big deal? yeah, try telling me that next time you're balancing your drunk ass over a nasty commode, holding your purse, jacket, and toilet paper in one fucking hand.

*Note: fellas that's why the hell they go to bathroom in packs...they need the help. you're welcome.

2. if god were female women would be better at useful things like, killing wild animals, fixing stuff, hooking up cable, etc. i'm sorry, being able to...shit, i can't even think of anything useful about women right now. next.

3. if god were female she would have figured out a way to make babies be born when they were the size of sea monkeys and made men squeeze them out like a damn kidney stone.

4. look, i've got three sisters, a mother, and i had two wonderful grandmothers, so i won't even delve too deeply into this, but, periods...yeah. nuff said.

5. if god were female sleeping with a lot of dudes would not make you a slut.

6. if god were female breasts would actually stay firm as you got older. (and if you're wondering why a male god would have men become impotent as we get older, just call it self preservation. imagine if every guy's obituary started with, robert smith died today at the age of 94, while bedding a 22 year old stripper. not a good look.

7. if god were female it wouldn't be required that women put on shoes to make them taller, bras to make them bigger, spandex to make them smaller, and makeup to make their faces look different, in order to find THEMSELVES attractive.

8. if god were female people would go to WNBA games.

9. if god were female Oprah and Martha Stewart wouldn't be so special.

10. last but not least, if god were female WOMEN WOULDN'T EVEN EXIST...her jealous, hating ass would have just kept Adam all to herself.

crazies.

2008-03-28T08:56:00.000-07:00

soooooo, as some of you know i am hopelessly, endlessly, eternally single. my last "real" relationship was back when teletubbies were cool. i haven't been able to pinpoint the exact cause of my condition, but a friend of mine (a girl) has a theory that she NEVER hesitates to share with me. namely, that i attract "crazies." now for those of you who are, or have been interested in me, i hope this doesn't serve to dissuade you from your attraction. after all, somebody's gotta be crazy enough to like me...might as well be you. and i will always and forever be grateful for your interest.

now the evidence to support my friend’s conclusion sadly comes from my own mouth. you see, as i share my plight with her, i just continue to add to the multitude of occasions that i have indeed been pursued by crazies. there were the two married forty-sumthins, who insisted on sharing their undergarments with me via the united states postal service, the twenty-sumthin with three kids from as many baby-daddies, and the teenie who thought it would be a good idea to camp outside of my house in order to show her undying devotion to me. that reminds me, i have to renew that restraining order soon. the list is long and colorful, and riddled with landmine after landmine. i honestly don't know what it is about me that has forced me into this predicament. just today, i'm on my way to work and this silly girl cuts me off on the freeway, so i of course proceed to lean on my horn, flip her off, and cuss her out. she in kind, returns the favor, and i proceed on my way. a few moments later she catches up to me, takes a good look at me, and proceeds to wave and smile like i was supposed to follow her to the next off-ramp and make sweet love to her atop the soft and supple black leather of my backseat. additionally, i could just barely make out the crest of a small child’s head peering out from the backseat. what's especially sad about these happenings is that they happen to me so often that i honestly don't think that there is anything odd about it anymore. but then there is my friend, to graciously point out how miserably out of whack my life truly is. but i have tried to do sumthin about it. i honestly have. i attempted to date socalled “normal” girls, but to no avail. there was the law student. crazy. a school teacher. crazy. a nurse. crazy as hell! (but i wouldn’t trade those moments for all the tea in china.) i guess some things are just destined for some people. and for me, crazies are what it's going to be. (told you i was a poet.)

why i love alyssa milano more than you.

2008-03-27T10:32:00.000-07:00

because she looks like that...

and talks like this.

that is all.

a special place.

2008-03-26T10:39:00.000-07:00

so there's this girl. she’s just a kid. Because of that, this is an especially sad story. but mostly, this is an example of...well to be honest, to me, this is an example of a lot of things. one, how horribly mental our society has become. two, how completely irresponsible parents have gotten. three, how people need to learn the type of unconditional love...for breasts that i have.

so anyway, there's this girl. she's 18, and she just died. killed herself really...all for some "better" boobs. the article said, she was getting her "asymmetrical breasts and inverted areola" fixed, had an allergic reaction to the anesthesia, and died. now, i'm not technically an expert in the modern day sense of the word. but i like to think of myself as a classical boob expert. you know, like back in the days of plato and socrates, when being an expert in a field simply meant that you had devoted your life to the study of a topic, or activity. boob expert...yeah, that's me. so in my great wisdom and expertise i have never once encountered a pair of symmetrical breasts. not a one (or two). i do understand that some are more or less symmetrical than others, but worth risking your life for, i think not. the inverted areola, is an even more ridiculous issue. if you are a person who happens to enjoy large breasts, i think you would have a difficult time finding a more spectacular pair of breasts than those of aria giovanni. who happens to have an inverted areola, which i must say doesn't detract in the least bit from their aesthetic value. i know what you're thinking, "you're a guy, how could you possibly understand a woman's relationship with her breasts?" well if you must know, i too have insecurities about my breasts. i've thought many times of getting corrective surgery. but thankfully my rational mind has always prevailed and i thought better of it. so, i do understand the impulse. i just don't agree that it is a situation dire enough to risk one's life for.

all that being said, this IS NOT a post about boobs. my real question is, do you think there is a special place in heaven for people who die getting elective plastic surgery? like maybe a slightly dim, windy corner, where they have to wear dirty wings, and a dunce cap.

that's my story, and i'm sticking to it.

2008-03-24T20:02:00.000-07:00

so there has been a little sumthin in the news lately. if you haven't heard, let me give you a brief synopsis. forgive me if i get some of the details not exactly right, but i think you'll get the idea. so there is a guy, he's got this girl. i use the term girl here very loosely because what she really is, is completely out of her mind. so the girl at some point decides that she needs to hold up in the toilet for round about two damn years. at some point after that, she decided to cop a squat on the toilet for sumthin around two damn months. at which point the skin on her posterior becomes conjoined with the toilet. (that's about as nicely as i can say that.) really though...this bitch's ass grew onto the commode. i'm sorry. it's just that when people are stupid they should be dealt with as such. now, none of how stupid or crazy, or whatever was going on in her head is really much of my concern. cause here's the kicker, her man, (i'm also using that term loosely) while all of this was going on, decided that it would be prudent to feed this silly girl, and not tell anyone what was going on, or simply just grab her by the hair and drag her ass back into the living room. i don't advocate violence in very many situations, but i think we can all agree that this course of action would have been for her own good. this is also not really the main focus of my gripe. i mean, clearly they didn't have a strong relationship. clearly he had some side booty...i mean what other kind of booty can you have when the main booty is stuck to the toilet. and clearly, neither of them are very smart. here's the problem, this guy is now being charged with a crime! i don't remember the exact wording of the charge, but it's sumthin that basically amounts to negligence. which, if you listen to the prosecutor in this backward ass town tell it, "is the closest charge they could find to fit the crime." all right, so "negligence." here's what i'm thinking, the best you could possibly do would be to charge this fool with stupidity. but since stupidity isn't a crime, at least not while our president is walking around a free man, then how is that you say this guy broke the law. she's not dead. he fed her. (i'm not sure exactly how they managed to avoid the toilet getting clogged up in all that time, but let's just assume they did. we lock people up in little rooms all the time, so this couldn't be the "she's in a tiny room" infraction. i haven't heard anything that has said she was mentally ill. i mean obviously she's not right in the head, but if some shrink hasn't said so, then you can't expect the guy who is feeding his crazy ass girlfriend who decided one day to walk into the toilet and not come out for two years, to diagnose her himself. so i just don't see how he's broken the law. and more importantly than all of that, this broad is out of her mind! if she had died...i'd just call it natural selection and move on trying to cure cancer or sumthin important. but maybe that's just me.

what is it!

2008-03-24T15:04:00.000-07:00

what•is•it! n 1. greeting 2. exaltation 3. a cordial and often conventional gesture or expression used when welcoming, meeting, and addressing somebody 4. the opening phrase of a letter or speech, used to address the recipient or audience, for example "Dear Sir or Madame" or "Ladies and Gentlemen"

npl

a friendly message or good wishes.

LET'S GET IT CRACKIN.