Tuesday, September 30, 2003

5 more days and counting, and I still can't stand those couples. The ones who can't keep their hands off each other in public. The ones who are so insecure with themselves and their relationships that they feel the need to show that they are affectionate with at least one person in the world to everybody. Everybody. And everywhere. It's annoying.

I'm sitting at Supercuts waiting for Judy to finish up with the fat man and these love birds next to me feel like they need to fuckin' snuggle. IN SUPERCUTS. They're whispering to each other and she's giggling like a 12 year old girl that's found her clit. Give me a fuckin' break. As I sit there trying to read the same PC magazine that was there last month, I can hear little kisses being given back and forth. IN SUPERCUTS.

I don't have a problem with public displays of affection. Not at all. Holding hands is cool. A friendly peck here and there is fine. But this quasi-post-coital spooning and pillowtalk has to be kept at home. I mean for fucks sakes, there are kids around.

What bugs me the most is that as I'm getting my haircut, I can see them in the mirror behind me. And guess what. They stopped. I hate that shit. I've noticed this for years now. I can't even think about all the times I've taken a glance at a couple and the boyfriend noticed and holds his girl a little tighter/closer. Women do the same shit. They see a girl taking a look at their man and they grab his arm, as if marking their territory. I can't lie, I used to be the same way......in 7th grade.

When I notice guys checkin' out my girl, I'm personally flattered. If I found out anyone was wondering "what does she see in HIM?", FUCK, I'm ecstatic! I mean hell, it's like "LOOK WHAT I DID!! I either have a big dick or I'm rich, right? Because it obviously ain't the looks!" So it's a win/win situation for me. There is no need to be insecure, because if someone DID take my girl from me, then they did me a favor. "Shit, I almost married that bitch."

So feel me on this: Keep all that affectionate shit at home. Sure, public displays of affection are nice and all, but no one really gives a fuck, nor is anybody really paying attention.

Monday, September 29, 2003

I'm way too lazy right now to do one of those "100 Things About Me" lists. Leah did it. Someone else did it before her. And a bunch of other people did it before that person. But let's roleplay a little (because I know you love to roleplay), and let's pretend I wasn't a lazy asshole. Here are excerpts from the imaginary list of 100:

#37 - I love the soothing feeling of getting my ears cleaned with a Q-tip

#56 - Sometimes I'm so lazy I don't do my laundry until I'm down to my very last piece of underwear, which just happens to be the same underwear I wore in 8th grade. The well-too-known "Last Line Of Defense".

#7 - The thought of having 3-way sex with two women arouses me, even if the two women are ugly.

#96 - Sometimes I walk around purposely looking pissed off just to see if I can scare anybody.

#44 - I have a problem with reading comprehension.

#9 - My favorite number is 9.

#15 - I think I am much smarter than I lead on to be.

# 29 - I love oysters, even though they give me the runs for 2 days after eating them.

Maybe one day I'll write the rest. Maybe not.

Have a good Monday. Cheers.

Saturday, September 27, 2003

Having money is cool. Jojo and I spent about and hour in "The Store Formerly Known As Structure" yesterday, which is the longest we've spent in there since our high school days. I bought a pair of unusually narrow pants (for me at least) for a mere 10 duckets and a polo for 15, which by Struc-er, I mean, Express Men is a steal.

While shopping, I couldn't help but notice how feminine men's casual wear has become. There were really nice shirts, but they were ruined by some dumbass neckline that threatened to show not only my man-cleavage, but my damn belly button. There were also those oh-so-fruity shirts that tie with a string in the front, as if we were some fuckin' musketeers or some shit. I don't know, man. Maybe it's the "Hip Hop" urban style that keeps me from seeing the fashion value, but that shit looks wack. I mean, I like to dress nice and all, but that trendy-ass Chris Judd look has to fuckin' go. The LAST thing I want to do is look like a dumped J-Lo backup dancer.

Ohh....you want a little thunder?

We met up with a couple friends last night at the Century Theatres in Daly City and caught the opening night of "The Rundown" that starred Stifler, Christopher Walken, Rosario Dawson, and The Rock. I loved the movie and damn, there were great moments throughout. Stifler carried most of the comedy, The Rock provided the action, Rosario Dawson was the eye candy (although I noticed that her nostrils are lopsided as fuck), and Walken was classic fuckin'Walken.

On top of all that, Ernie Reyes Jr., in the first movie role I can recall in a long time, was part of probably one of the best and most creative fight scenes in the movie, hell in ANY movie. Ernie is fuckin' diesel (read: built). Playing a Brazillian rebel, he was pretty damn convincing considering that he's Filipino. I'm glad to see he's still working. He's talented as all hell but unfortunately his "look" forces him into movies like "Turtles In Time".

Countdown to the wedding is 7 days. Vegas, we're comin'. And it's not gonna be nice.

Have a good weekend.

Thursday, September 25, 2003

Just hang the fuck up. Notorious Pat just told me that he saw a news story on one of our local news stations about a woman getting hit by a MUNI bus down in the Embarcadero in the 'Sco today. Turns out she was walking while talking on her phone and walked into on-coming traffic and just got blasted by the bus.

Now, I'm sorry. Call me insensitive. Call me an asshole. But dammit, I wish there were stories like this more often. I really dont' give a fuck. Why? Because I encounter maybe 4 near car accidents weekly due to this people who can't seem to pay attention to anything and talk on their cell phone at the same time. I mean, shit. Somebody HAS to tell them, "Hey, you drive like shit when you talk on your cell phone." The sad part REALLY is all the people who would probably do the same but are saying to themselves, "What a dumbass."

And it's not just with drivers. There are always these people walking in the mall who can't seem to WALK right when they're on their phone. COME ON. These have to be the same assholes in their cars. They were the same kids that couldn't jump rope and sing the rhymes at the same time because they'd stop swinging the rope. These are the same people for which the "No blocking fire exits" laws are created for. I mean, fuck. If you can run, you are never blocking a fire exit (thanks Mitch).

Monday, September 22, 2003

Remember this when Leah posted it after I showed her the link?

Well, you can thank me for that AND this

Sunday, September 21, 2003

"I got a darkside, like an uneven suntan."

Tuesday, September 16, 2003

The library can be kind of weird at 10:30 in the morning. So I'm at the library to do some reading and to look for a few books I want to borrow instead of having to buy them. It's pretty early in the day, and I can't help but notice the different type of people that are in a library at the given time. Here are a few of my observations:

The Old Retired Couple- These people have absolutely nothing better to do than go to the library everyday to read. They're old and they're retired, so you know that they've been up for a good 5 hours and wanted to get some reading in before it was time to turn in for the rest of the night. I mean, it IS damn near Noon, you know.

The Group of Mentally Ill Kids- These kids, though seemingly "hadicapped" to the average eye, are the happiest people in the library. Sure, they make make a random moan or scream every now and then breaking the concentration of some or making a few kids giggle, but they are living their lives to their fullest extent, which is more than what we can say about a lot of people. When I was younger, I used to gawk and stare and giggle myself. But these kids have some sort of genuine innocence that is a testiment to their strength as people living with their illness, not drowning in it like some may perceive.

These Muther Fuckers On The Internet Playing Yahoo Spades - How demented are these assholes who come to the library with their library card and use them for free Internet access ALL DAY LONG? They swear that they're getting over by hiding the AIM Express window under their Yahoo Spades window even though there's a little note on the monitor that states "No Internet Chatting or Games". They do nothing productive in the library and they make me fuckin' sick.

The Grandpa and The Rowdy Ass 3-year-old- Grandpa gets a great idea: "Let me take my rowdy ass grandson to the library while I read." What he doesn't realize is that he'll spend more time trying to calm his son down than he will holding a fuckin' book. And why can't the kid shut the fuck up? "Hey Grandpa! Hey Grandpa!" What the fuck, don't bring him into the adult section of the library when you know there's a little kid's section.

Those Fucking Teenagers- Can these mutherfuckers shut the fuck up? Every little thing is funny and they are giggling their mutherfuckin' asses off. Those fuckin' teenagers can whisper louder than I can shout and while they do come to the library with the intention of studying, once more than 3 of them gather, you can throw all that shit out of the window. They sometimes even have long ass conversations on their cell phone. IN THE FUCKING LIBRARY. I swear to gawd, parents need to talk some fuckin' sense into these kids. Because dammit, I am becoming less and less patient and have absolutely no problem telling someone to shut the fuck up.

The Random College Kid- (Read: Me.) They sit down and open their bags and unload about 50 books and look up every single time something disturbing happens. I see these kids as the "easily disturbed". I mean, if I spent all day working and/or going to school, the last place I'd want to study is at a fuckin library. But as a lot of us "easily distracted" kids know that there is the TV, the computer and the phone at home, and we can't get anything done with any of that stuff around. So instead, we head over to the library to be subjected to all of the above. What the hell is wrong with these people?

Well, there are others, but you know the deal. Weirdo old-as-dirt librarian. Homeless guy. Magazine Whores. And the best of all, the DVD/Movie people. But you know the story.

Monday, September 15, 2003

I always get that feeling. You know, that feeling. The feeling you get when you're all ready to eat and you realize that there isn't rice in the rice cooker. The feeling when you sit down on the toilet, drop a load, and realize that there is not a square of toilet paper within 20 yards of you. It's also the feeling when you're doing the "duck-walk" to the closest bathroom hoping you don't mess yourself in a quest for toilet paper. Remember the last time you forgot you had no cash and went to a shop that doesn't accept check or credit card? That's the feeling. Or how about the time when you were talking shit about someone and that someone just happened to walk into the room? It's that feeling.

Now, let's face it. We all get these feelings. The feeling of looking through the Sunday newspaper adverts and finding something on sale you just bought two weeks ago $40 more than it's current price. Ever wake up in the middle of the night and bump your head on the wall or your nightstand? It's that feeling. That same feeling when you get crapped on by a seagull, or when you accidentally let out a Hershey squirt instead of the fart you thought was coming out. It just like that feeling you get when you walk into the bathroom to brush your teeth and you step in a wet spot, ruining a fresh clean pair of socks. How about that feeling when you put in a load of clothes into the washing machine and you forget to put in soap, but you don't realize it until AFTER you dry the clothes and still smell the funk? Can you relate to that?

Okay, maybe some of these are off the wall. But these things happen to me all the time. And I can't help but laugh at myself. It's funny. I'm funny. Life is funny. And if you can't laugh at yourself sometimes, maybe you're just an asshole.

Thursday, September 11, 2003

Okay, so who are these mutherfuckers that still haven't seen "Scare Tactics" on the Sci Fi Channel?

It's okay, you can come out of the closet and admit it. Yeah. Admit it. Admit that you were too busy watching Ashton Kutcher and his "Punk'd". Fuck Punk'd. I'd punch Ashton in the grill just for fuckin' Demi Moore. That's Bruce's pussy, Ashton, whether you want to believe it or not. You're in for your own "Punk'd". You just wait. Just wait 'till when you think you're gettin' some from Demi one night, and then Bruce jumps out of the closet, sticks his dick in your ass and yells "You've just been Punk'd". But wait, I'm digressing.

Anyways, "Scare Tactics". Hosted by your favorite 9021-ho, Shannen Doherty, who hasn't looked this attractive since Dylan was ready to break Brenda's hymen after their prom. I have to admit, they do go a little over the top withsome of the acting, but the actual pranks are far more elaborate and believable than your Punk'd or even "Girl's Behaving Badly" if you like your Razmatazz with a Femme boost. Good stuff, I suggest checking it out.

Check your local listings or the Scare Tactics link above.

I need money. With the wedding coming up in about 3 weeks that so happens to coincide with my very first trip to Las Vegas, I have come to the conclusion that I'm going to have to raise some funds of my own to allow both Daphne and I to enjoy this trip the way we want to. I've already auctioned off a bunch of my jerseys and unneeded clothing to just help myself stay afloat as I put in work at this non-paying internship I've been at for the past 2 months. Now it's time for me to get serious. I need a lot of money and soon. So now what?

I'm going for the shoes.

For a long time, I couldn't even think about selling my shoes. I used to buy shoes all the time. When I worked at Foot Locker, I always had about 4 pairs of shoes on hold and I always bought at least one pair every pay period. The discount was like crack. If it was cheap, I'd buy it. Even if it wasn't cheap, I'd buy it. The worst thing is that I would hardly wear them. Whenever you have more than 10 pairs of shoes, you will only wear half of them in a month.

What makes it worse is the space they take up.I have them everywhere. Under my bed. In my closet. In Daphne's closet. In the living room closet. All over the floor. All over the hallway outside of my room. Just everywhere. And it carried over to both Daphne and Jayden. Now they have tons of shoes too. So our house is just a big ass shoe wherehouse.

Now I'm going to do everybody a favor and get rid of them.

Wednesday, September 10, 2003

I don't masturbate as much as I used to. One thing that bothers me about masturbation is how much guilt is associated with it. Way back when I first started beating my meat, I used to feel dirty and guilty after the act. This feeling of dirtiness would force me to take a shower, not only to literally clean myself up, but to "wash" myself of the guilt. As I moved on into the later stages of being a teen, I began to think about the concept of Karma. I'm a firm believer in Karma, and that a good deed will result in good fortune and a bad deed will result in ill fortune.

Since choking your chicken is generally looked upon as a negative thing, I began seeing negative events that have possibly resulted by me stroking my salami. I'd have a date with Palmala and her five sisters, then later in the day, I would get a speeding ticket. I'd strain my main vein, then I'd forget to do my homework that night. It was odd correlations such as those that would force me to not jerk off at crucial times in my life such as the night before a big test, or before going to a job interview. Weird shit.

Now don't get me wrong. I still think that spanking your monkey is normal and healthly. Hell, they should teach that shit at school. Think of how many teens would be more relaxed at schools, or how less high school girls would get pregnant. Think how many guys wouldn't be so sexually agressive if they would just shake their snake before a first or second date. But no, there's still that taboo factor. Everybody does it but nobody talks about it. There are tons of benefits to it and nobody wants to acknowledge them.

But now I can just imagine all the people reading this and saying, "But Joe. Aren't you engaged? Don't you have a steady sex partner?" And yeah, you guys are right. I do. But as many of you will learn, the combination of school, job and kids will basically murder your sex lives. As much as you want to do the horizontal Mambo with your significant other, sometimes it's just not fesable. Schedules confict. Somebody is too tired. One person is horny but the other isn't. I mean, believe me. When we fuck, we fuck. But trying to time your horniness to coincide with your wifey is damn near impossible. Especially when the sliding windows of opportunity are far and few between. So you take your schlong to the massage parlor.

So with that in mind, think about all those times as a child sitting at home, all by yourself with your sister and/or brother. Remember when your parents would come home unusually late? You'd be thinking they went to the grocery store or maybe Price Club or the mall, but for some reason they wouldn't come home with anything. Well, I hate to break it to you, but they were fucking. Somewhere, somehow. You were born and had subsequently fucked up their sex life, so they were forced to take it elsewhere. Maybe it was the Alpha Beta parking lot behind the dumpster. Maybe it was at a cheap hourly motel. Or hell, maybe your mom gave your dad head in the garage! Either way, they were fuckin', and you didnt' even know.

Sunday, September 07, 2003

Sex is weird. Women focus on getting off as fast as possible. Men focus on mental images of basketball and naked pictures of Bea Arthur to avoid getting off too quickly. Now, don't get me wrong. I've had the same sexual partner for a good 5 years, so maybe the little things about sex don't bother me as much as those who are involved with one night stands and/or shorter-term/non-committed relationships. I know there is a huge amount of anxiety from concerns outside of performance such as whether or not your dick will explode once you stick it in or if it will feel like you're pissing battery acid the next day. But regardless of my situation, I'm the kind of person that wants to perform well.

I hear some nightmare stories from some of my women friends about how they've experienced the "One Minute Man" affliction. And you know what? I believe them. Hell, there have been times when I could've been called "30 second man" if I wanted to. But I stick to concentrating on odd, off the wall things like something on the wall or a weird mental image of a baseball card. There are other weird techniques that I'll refrain from sharing. If you have any odd techniques, feel free to leave them in the comments. Share because you care. But yeah, I dont' see how dudes can just hop in, bust, and leave knowing a girl didn't get hers. There are so many underlying consequences such as the chance of a repeat performance being reduced to slim and none, and more importantly the chance that she'd tell other women reducing the chance of a repeat performance with any women within 2 degrees of separation.

I dont' know. Maybe I'm overthinking this because I've never been sexually premiscuous nor have I had a one night stand, but I can't even begin to think what would happen if before I got mine a girl just stopped and walked away. I guess it's what it's like to be a Raiders fan. Get all the way to the end but no payoff and a huge letdown.

Friday, September 05, 2003

Muther Fucker!

...which were exactly my sentiments as I attempted to post and publish a novel-like blog about my weekend in Seattle last night but then inadvertantly ERASING it. Strike one.

Saturday morning I woke up earlier than Jake so I attempted to make breakfast. After a few hours of bullshitting, Jake and I went to the Greyhound bus station in downtown Seattle to wait for Graham. Apparently his bus got held up at the US/Canadian border and would be coming in at 3:00 instead of 1:30. Finding that out, Jake and I walked a few blocks to the mall, grabbed some lunch and came back. No luck. We waited 30 more minutes. No luck. After an hour of waiting, I finally get a call on my phone. It's Graham and that punk ass is waiting at the hotel. Damn Canadians.

Saturday night I went to a wedding my old friend Sophie invited me to. Hung out for a bit. Got free food. And yes, for a second it was akward as hell. I know now what it's like to crash a wedding reception. I'm pathetic.

After the wedding, Graham and I hit up the Freestyle Session pre-party at the Noise Lab just above downtown Seattle on Capitol Hill. It was good stuff. We were in the cypher vibin' to raw Hip Hop beats for a good 3 hours. There was a good 30 minute span in the 4 hours we spent at the Noise Lab where the vibe was just intense. Pure, raw Hip Hop beats and old school Funk and Soul breaks were banging as the b-boys and b-girls rocked it on the floor. Everybody was hyped and jumpin' and it gave me that "I Love Hip Hop" Feeling, a Living Legends so eloquently said in their song "Gift Wrap". Fuck all that bullshit you see on tv and the radio. For a good 30-45 minutes of pure vibin' and rockin' those beats, we were all part of Hip Hop in it's purest form. There was no hate. There was no need for competition. Just about an hour of feeling the music and manifesting those emotions through rythmic movement. THAT is Hip hop.

As Graham and I made our way back to the hotel, we couldn't help but notice how unbelievably quiet it was in downtown Seattle. There weren't even homeless bums roaming the city. It was so quiet, and I for once in my life felt like the most dangerous man on the streets. Seattle is NOTHING like the Bay Area. Fuck what you heard. I can't even walk in my suburban neighborhood here in Vallejo and feel safe.

Sunday and Monday I spent at the Bumbershoot Festival to enjoy the largest US b-boy competition of the year in Freestyle Session Special Edition. Bumbershoot is basically a huge arts festival filled with great food, good music, and tons of white people with dreads. Sprinkle in a few artsy fartsy snooty people and you pretty much have the majority of the Bumbershoot attendees. This year artists like Common, De La Soul, Macy Gray and The Black Eyed Peas made that demo a litte younger, and much more "urban". It easy to say that the majority of the Bumbershoot attendees were far from your mainstream/pop/MTV types who don't like anything even remotely alternative or "underground". But I was amazed at how many non-bboy were interested in b-boying. There were moms, pops and families getting in line to even get a peek at what was going on in the pavillion. It was fun to see them react to the agressiveness of the dancers. It was a weird atmosphere. Oh well.

Monday night, Sophie was kind enough to pick me up from my hotel room and bring me over to her house where where mom barbequed dinner. I have to admit, it was GREAT to have rice for the first time in 3 days. We caught up with each other and talked about each other's lives. It was nice to connect with someone I haven't talked to in such a long time. Around 3AM, we shot over to a 24 hour Starbucks (in SEATTLE no less!!) and ended up getting free drinks because their computers were down. Whoo hoo, free shit.

Tuesday morning Graham and check out of our hotel and foot it around downtown Seattle one last time. We went to Pike Place Market and watched them throw fish around. We also at a great Vietnamese spot with cheap Vietnamese sandwiches. I'm going back there. I STILL can't shake the craving for another one.

While walking around, I decided to call a classmate to tell him that I might not make it to my 6PM class since my flight wouldn't land until 7:30. It was the very first day of class. He told me that if I miss the class, I would risk the chance of being dropped from it. This news pretty much ruined the rest of my day for me. I scrambled to get all my instructor's contact information and used every method possible to contact him. No luck. I rushed to Barne's and Noble and pick up "The Epic of Gilgamesh" and "The Dialogues of Plato" to catch up on reading for a class I'm not sure I'm even going to make it to. With so much to read and so little time, that plane ride went FAST.

When I finally stepped to the baggage claim, I waited around for my stuff. I kept an eye on the door to see if Daphne was there. I have to admit, I have never seen her look so beautiful. I was so happy to see her and all I wanted to do was stay in her arms. She was so comfortable and I was happy to just be around her. I can't wait to marry that woman.

Anywho, I got to class at about 8:30 and the instructor acted as if nothing was wrong. All that stress for nothing.