Who Knows, I Sure as F*ck Don't!

Who are you? Yes, you, lonely-type person sitting behind the safety of your computer screen, afraid of real contact with actual human beings, to the point of reminding me of a Justin Timberlake song. (Ayo Technology. Wait, 50 Cent ft J Tim and Timbaland… does it matter? Is this your story? Isn’t Justin Timberlake so much cooler, and hotter, than 50 Cent ever could be??!! He’s so dreamy, and I’m ain’t not no gay. If I were a chic, I’d totally bang him! WTF? Who just hijacked my blog? I digress.) I don’t actually know what it is about the song that made me think of it, but well, listen to it, and that is who you are. Maybe you are what that Dennis Leary song says you are, you know that popular song he had… People heard it from time to time, it may or may not be as popular as the Mona Lisa, who, apparently, was suffering from high cholesterol, not too sure where she got it from, but hey, apparently she loved animal meat if you know what I mean ;-). Ew. Perv! Haha, it’s okay, I thought the same thing. You know, cholesterol, the essential structural component of mammalian cell membranes, so I’ve heard through the grapevine, which contrary to popular belief are NOT mammalian, yes, you read that correctly, grapes and grapevines are NOT mammalian. Do grapes even grow on grapevines, or is that like, you know, ladybug sex which leads to ladybug eggs and ladybugs? As we’ve already learned, through the scientific method, which may or may not have been scientifically proven with science, that Ladybugs grow from shit, not ladies or bugs. Well, maybe if said lady or bug is covered with fecal monkey thrown matter, then they might grow ladybugs, otherwise, you are SOL, Shit-Ass-Out, up a crick without a paddle, or downright bent over backwards while being pounded in Federal Rape Me In The Ass Prison, surprisingly in the ass, by Bubbah, after you get caught jaggin off to kiddie porn. Well, actually, you thought you were downloading Girls Gone Wild, but instead got kiddie porn, and even though the download didn’t finish because you were downloading donkey shows and gay porn which was more important to you at the time, and you could have never viewed it, you still partially downloaded it and the FBI shows up at your door, taking you away, and sending you as fresh fish to Tiny, your 6’10” cellmate (why must you assume he’s black you racist POS?! haha, well he is… you were correct.) who has not had lovin’ in a long time and loves virgins. True story. Well, part of that story may have been made up, but the FBI part and jail really did happen, and I’m sure he found a whole bunch of new friends, because, as we all know, because we’ve all been to prison, kiddie molestor/porn watchers are the bottom of the barrel, or top, I guess, depending on how you want to look at it. Fucked up, isn’t it? Holy shit longest tangent ever, time out while I reread the bullshit I’m feeding you, spoonful by spoonful, unbeknownst to you, slowly turning you into my minions, all thinking just as I do, and one day taking over the world. Nah, never mind, I don’t want that responsibility, that was a dumb thought, do you want to rule the world? Even Hitler couldn’t do it, and there were WAYYYY less people in the world than there are now. Probably one of the greatest world leaders ever, up there with Saddam Hussein and that Cuban guy, what was his name…? Oh yea, Oswaldo Dorticós Torrado. Stupid people thinking I was going to put that other guy, uh, Fulgencio Batista Zaldívar, haha, jk, Fidel, but they were both pretty cool too, in their own way I guess. Nah, nevermind, they were losers, nobody has even heard of them, until I just googled them, well, more specifically “Cuban leaders.”

So, back to the point, even though I never actually have one, but hey, oh yea, I was going back to read WTF (mate) I was talking about, even though I think it took maybe half a second before I got side-tracked. Where were we, All right, all right, let's see. Uh, she was in the water, the Eel was coming after her. She was frightened. The Eel started to charge her. And then - (Princess Bride, anyone…?) Doesn’t matter, you suck either way, suck bag. That’s not true, you must not suck as much as a bag of suck because you’re cool enough at least to read my blog. Maybe you’re only a nickel-bag of suck. Time out again, time to drain the main valve. Time out on that time out, why do I keep timing out, for you have no idea that I’m pausing my literary genius putting onto paper, because each word is not timestamped. Haha, oh well, it’s more fun to throw that in there, because then it looks like I smarter because there are more words and such stuff of the sort. Ah, relief. Soooooooooooooo, 850 something words later, we finally might be getting to start scratching the surface of this post. The end of that sentence makes it 872. 880. Shit, this can go on forever, I had better stop it. 891. Haha, okay I’m done now, I promise. Eh, I’m done for the night, gotta wake up early kiddies, hopefully I can continue, sometime soon so I don’t forget my ideas. Well, never mind that, I’ll be gone on a magical voyage until Monday night, for Colorado and a beer rave await me. What is a beer rave you ask? Well, I’m not quite sure myself, but it involves beer, and raving. Doesn’t one usually rave when they are drunk? I sure as hell know I talk incoherently when I’ve been drinking. Ohhhhhhhhhh, yea, you’re probably right, it’s probably the glow-stick up your butt type of rave. Even better! Assuming they have lube, because otherwise, I don’t care how drunk I am, I will not allow my butt-hole to glow and bleed at the same time, I could get butt cancer, and I don’t know of anyone who would give me their butt. Butt transplant? Terrance and Phillip? South Park? Any of this doing anything for you? If not, you deserve butt cancer. Was it anal cancer, or was his butt just collapsing? Who knows, who cares… NIGHT!

Hello again!

And back to 950 words ago, not literally what is your name, but who are you? Why are you who you are? What things do you do that make you unique? Have you ever thought about any of these questions? Do any of these questions actually matter? They probably do, or have some relevance to where I am hoping to go, but probably will not considering how long it took me to get to the second sentence of the substance, the meat, the bread and butter of this post. (Bread and butter of this post? Haha, wtvr, it’ll work…) (just a little f-to-the-y-I for you, it might get a little serious for a minute, don’t be scared, it’s supposed to be, I think.) But, yea, no, seriously, it’s a fucked up time to be growing up. With college being a necessity any more, well, that whole delayed adolescence thing comes into play, and for me, it’s a little closer to home. My first cousins and my family included, it went in order through age, as to who would be getting married next. And well, as you guessed it, I fucked that one up. Big deal, I know! I won’t lie, I feel like I messed up, ruined the whole order of things, but, that’s why trends were made, to be broken. So that got me kinda thinkin’, you know, I mean, our parents probably met in high school or whatever, maybe one went to college right around the corner from home, and they stayed together forever. Now-a-days, couples break up going into college, because freshman year sucks when you are dating someone that doesn’t go to your school because you can’t have ANY fun. And then by the end, girls are all trying to settle down and hurry up to find someone to marry, because after you leave college, there really isn’t finding anybody else. Go to a bar and find some random slutty lookin loser and take them home to mom? No, there’s a reason why they are single and at a bar. Because they are either damaged goods or they’re crazy. And they know the only way guys will talk to them is if they are that drunk. Because if they weren’t crazy, they would already be married. (I’m the exception to that rule too, although I guess I don’t go out to bars looking for tramptastic women/girls/females. I gave up on that one after I got out of school. Well, even though I’m never going to technically graduate from anything, we can pretend.) Being that we have all this extra time to fuck off, catch STIs (no, not the Subaru, I wish you could catch those in the wild, the new name for STDs, because, they’re infections, not diseases.) , and sleep 20 hours out of the day due to the “vigorous schedule of college” we tend to lose ourselves and form new identities that aren’t really who we are. We figure out how much and how often we can drink, and do it every waking moment, because, imagine having an actual connection with someone other than genetalia touching? That would be insane; I don’t even know where that thought came from. People tend to lose the part of their brain that lets them have actual friendships with people not based on drinking because who cares why you like that person, as long as they will be there when you need a drink. And why do we form such a dependence upon such a terrible drug. Since we’re already napping 20 hours a day, why don’t we all just roll joints and sleep an extra hour. We have nothing better to do. Shit, most people don’t even show up to class if it isn’t required. So, for six years (yea, you’re quite an idiot and that’s how long it’s going to take you to graduate from a two year program) you’re “meeting” new people, having the time of your life, all the while completely throwing responsibility out the window. Who cares, if it takes me 6 years to finish what should take me 2, then 2 more years at a real school will take me at least 8, and by that point I’ll be 32, and I’ll wake up and be responsible. Well, yea, but then you have to go to the bar to find similar losers such as yourself who didn’t actually think ahead until it was too late. But, to be fair, even if you go right to a four year school, and graduate, sometimes there is a big work load, or way too big of a dude to chic ratio and you aren’t able to find anybody that you like more than just as a fuck buddy or whatever kids call it these days. And another thing that is fucked up about when we’re growing up is technology. Holy shit man, a computer named after a tampon, without a keyboard is coming out! What has the world come to?! Well, I’m not really too sure, but I’m going to buy one! Because the three laptops I own already are not enough, and, they all have keyboards anyway, lol. But seriously kiddies, the rate at which shit is “evolving,” how everyone has ADD and Apple is trying to fight this with shitty fuckin shit that only lets you do one thing at a time, except browse the web and talk on the phone, seriously, that is the one thing you are going to let people multi-task with… Something completely irrelevant to the Earth and God-himself, and completely useless, as I think I’ve ranted about in previous posts, is the one thing that they are going to let people multi-task with. Speakerphone and the Interwebs. Why don’t we just waste the battery even faster! Fuck, why even put a battery in, just plug it into a wall, and leave it there… It’ll be like a home phone, always having to be plugged in to be used, with a charging cord that is 50 feet long. And of course, this cord will be all curled like all home phones are, super awesomely sweetness. I want every cord I own to have a curly cord. I wish that my umbilical cord could actually be super curly, in the fashion of the home phone cords. Just thinking about it makes me hungry. No, I’m not Mr Conehead, and no, the thought of copper wrapped in plastic does not make me hungry either, it just makes me think of Arby’s curly fries. Delishiosityness to the maxxxxx!!!!! But not like when you go to a shitty one and they are wetter than a virgin on prom night. (does that even exist? Either one, or together. A virgin… Prom… ? Maybe somewhere in the south, possibly, or, uh, India… Does India even have high schools and proms? Do they still do that arranged marriage shit? Wikipedia is down, otherwise I’d let you know, but, since my most credible source of knowledge, well second, Snapple Caps do not cover such sensitive issues, for obvious reasons, I can’t let you in on the deal with that one. I’m pretty sure you have a better chance at seeing Bigfoot get eaten by the Loch Ness Monster while your plane is crashing into a meteor fragment because Bruce Willis did not blow up thoroughly and then your plane lands on the last unicorn in existence, that happened to be preggers. Way to go douche-fag. You just wiped out 3 species, and you were the only person to ever know they existed. And you didn’t take a picture, upload it to the Interwebs, and let everyone else know they exist. And now you’re dead. POWER THIRST! You should probably now take a time out to watch that video… it’s awesome... douche fag… ? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRuNxHqwazs And while you’re @ it, you should prob watch the powerthirst 2 as well… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t-3qncy5Qfk&feature=related I’ll wait… Don’t worry, I have all day… Seriously, take your time… It’s cool.) They’re called fries for a reason, because they’re fried, not bathed in oil, so as to give your mouthal region 17th degree burns. Just thinking about it makes my mouth hurt. Or my frenulum. No, not that frenulum, sick-o, actually come to think of it, is that, eh, who cares? For all intensive purposes pertaining to this post, the frenulum will be defined as that thing on the roof of your mouth directly behind your two-front-teeth that gets decimated when you go all cannibalistic on a piping-hot-fresh-out-of-the-oven piece of 700 degree Celsius slab o’ bread cheese and tomato sauce. Just thinking about it brings back bad memories and flashbacks of ‘Nam. WTF? I wasn’t in Viet-fuckin’-nam, oh, nevermind, Forrest Gump was nice enough to bring me with him, so I guess I was.

Anywaysies, I think I’m finally getting on track! Hurray! (?) Partially because I’m sick and tired of writing and secondly because it’s been tooo long since I’ve graced the Interwebs with my literarical geniositynesstacity. The whole reason I started this post, I think, it’s been way too long ago since I have actually had time to come back to this, is because I got me to thinkin’ one day, which is usually trouble, also probably happened to be the day I started this post, which was God-knows-when, and all these people that are leaving college and looking for a job in the real world are all deleting and untagging themselves in all the photos where they are shown doing a keg stand or making out with some random in a bar (obviously, a skank. See above.) because employers these days have given themselves the power to look into these things to decide whether or not you are a good candidate for their employance. Who the fuck wants to join the real world, anyway, sounds stupid to me. I prefer the magical land called “Lives-with-parentsville.” Maybe that has something to do with why people don’t go out and get married. It costs too much to rent/own your own place, so you are stuck at home, and can’t have time to mold the schizo skankapotomous into a model citizen your mother would be proud of because you have to take her home right away. If only there were a school you could send them to to learn how to not be such a b-i-itch and send in your mothers criteria for being liked by the family. (note to self: look into brainwashing techniques for sluttasauruses) Because, as we all know, we all want a lady in the streets but a freak in the bed. Sheets rhymes, I know, but I don’t think it sounds as good, so fuck off wankah. But seriously though, what the fuck does how many beers I drink on a Mon-Sun night have anything to do with the way that I behave at work and perform for the company. And those hypocritical bastards are saying that they never did anything stupid in their time… pretty sure the invent of the digital camera would have been nice back then so I could have pictures of those fuckers being all wasted off of god knows what (sorry, didn’t wanna hyphen that one, or capitalize it either, take that one!) and when they ask to see my FB I’ll be like, set their picture as my default and then I’ll be VP in no time, assuming I probably delete the picture, forever. (note to self: look into time travel) (note to self: if you are going to look into time travel, just look at stock prices, buy them back then, sell them today, and not have to work) (note to self: you are a genius. I know… Am I now having a conversation with myself, through Micro-Soft wordage? It would seem to be true… ) But more seriously though, how is what I do on my free time any indication of how I work? Shit, if I party hard, I must have some sort of “Good work ethic” right? I mean, that probably means that I try my hardest at everything I do, and if it doesn’t, well, now it does. On a racist side note, why does everyone think that Asian drivers are the worst? They are quite bad at driving, but hey, out of the 4 billion of them, there are bound to be a few million bad ones. Lol. Seriously though, the worst drivers on the face of this fine planet I call America HAVE TO BE black women. Think about it. Have you ever been in a situation, walking in a mall or a place with a very tight, narrow walkway, and there happens to be a group of black people walking towards you? Well, if you have, you will know that THEY WILL NOT MOVE OUT OF THEIR PATH NO MATTER WHAT! And, if there are three of them, occupying a path that could in reality hold four or five people, they will make it so they are not near the edge on one side, but rather ¾ of a person away from the opposite side that you are on, and the one closest to you will not even turn their shoulders so you don’t have to go onto the soggy mud that is next to the path. I will kill all of them. They only know how to think about themselves, and I have had WAYYYYYYYYYYY too many experiences with black women merging, almost into me, into me had I not realized what they were doing, because they want to go where they want to go and they don’t care what is in their way, it is THEIR path. And they can’t even warn you with a blinker, no, you have to say hey, if I were that black lady driving that (insert luxury vehicle here, that they obviously use food stamps to pay for and can only afford for maybe the first week they own it) BMW luxury liner of a boat, would I merge directly into the car next to me because I don’t know how to use a blinker or mirrors, or turn my head to check if there is anyone next to me. That’s why they (don’t?) pay(at all actually) so much for insurance, it’s their problem. They want to go there and there is no stopping them. And once they do obviously run into you, somehow they will be black and say that it obvi wasn’t their fault, and you are just saying that because they are black. I fucking hate the race card. Like this morning, when I was halfway merged into a lane, and a negro bitch decided she didn’t like the left lane anymore. Why not? I’m not really sure, she didn’t exit for another 12 miles and the left lane was wide open. But, well, I guess it’s a good thing I check my mirrors and look as I’m switching lanes, or else black bitchface would have destroyed my pride and joy. No, not the one Stevie Ray Vaughan was singing about, but my Scion tC. Fuck black bitches, fuck black people, and fuck people in general for only being able to think about themselves, aka the reason for traffic in general. Yes, I have cured traffic (as if it were a pathogen) but it involves way too many people to not think about themselves. And that’s a story for a whole different day, with a different mood. That is a rant and a half post, all about stupidity and idioticallity.

Edit to post: Sitting in the library, trying to study, the two black females in the library apparently think they're whispering, but are definitely not. Black women are not good at driving or whispering.

Don’t lose yourself in a bottle. Strive to make yourself a better person today!

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