The 49ers beat the Eagles yesterday in overtime giving Ryan's Los Ange-er, St. Louis Rams to opportunity to cease home field advantage through out the NFC side of the playoffs. I'm just baffled by the 49ers inability to win on the road, but what is even more mind blowing is their inconsistency. Wins against the Rams, Bucs and Eagles and loses to the Browns and the Cardinals. I don't get it. If we had a half decent kicking game through the 1st half of the season, you know who we'd be? The Rams.

I haven't spoken to Kool Keith in a while. Ryan, Keith and myself used to have AIM chats bullshiting about nothing, but those are only but memory. I think he's lost any motivation to even interact with me now that the realization that his Raiders suck way more than my Niners. 49ers = Dustbuster. Raiders = Kirby. Which sucks more?

If I could suggest anything to Leah, it would be to move out of Calgary for a summer. Leah, spend a couple months in Cali or New York. I think you owe it to yourself. And if you can't get to that, go skiing for fuck's sake. The snow is RIGHT THERE.

When I read Sahalie's blog, I imagine her being someone I can talk to all night. Maybe it's the UC Davis connection or maybe it's the way I interpret her words. Yeah, it's weird, I know. Forget I even said anything.

Bing seems like somebody that would hate me. I used to joke around with Kool Keith how Bing's Toronto bus pass reminded me of a girl I used to talk to in 9th grade, so I was dementedly obsessed with that picture. Don't hate me. Please?

Matt just finished his first semester of junior college and it has become apparent that he already knows what it's like to bomb on an exam. Keep your head up, kid. There's tons more where that came from.

Albert, the Russian equivalent of the lovechild of Boner Stabone and Ivan Drago, is going to be housing Ryan when he comes up here in March. Start stocking up on the Makers. Now.

Jose, one of my best friends in the world has a blog that is very politically motivated. From what started out as regurgitation from things he's read and been taught has evolved into a very strong and educated point of view. I can respect anybody who can take what he/she has learned and be able to create their own position and opinions. We don't get to talk much anymore now that I work, but I know he's there. Big ups, Joser.

Jacob's life is fuckin' crazy.

The drive up to the Sierra at Tahoe ski resort went without a hiccup. The roads were just as clear as the blue skies and with the three of us crammed into my little mystic teal Corolla with our respective snowboards and gear, the day was shaping up to be a good one. We unloaded in the muddy parking lot and I walked ahead of the other two struggling to find a comfortable grip on my blue Santa Cruz snowboard. The snow was noticeably soft and brand spanking new from a heavy snow storm that generously dusted the mountains with over a foot of new snow the past Saturday night.

We purchased our lift tickets and headed towards the lift to Sierra's bunny slope. I couldn't help myself and noted to the other two that the lift that was labeled "The Easy Rider Express" shared it's name with a condom brand. After two runs on the bunny slope it became apparent that my skills did not carry over from the last time I hit the slopes, which was well over 10 months previous to this trip. I was very disappointed and I think I psyched myself out because the next two trips up the lift ended with me falling coming off the lift. I was convinced that I have reached a new level of suck-titude.

Brian and I decided to hit the top of the mountain and go for it. Since Cory was still a beginner, he decided to stay behind to master the bunny slope, allowing us to attack the mountain. The ride on the lift reminded me that I didn't have the proper amount of headwear. My ears were frozen and I couldn't feel my cheeks. I got of the lift rather easily and strapped in and went for it. Brian is a seasoned snowboarder, so it became pretty obvious that I was holding him back, but he was kind enough to slow me the most desirable path down the mountain.

We were pretty lucky because since it was a Monday the slopes were rather empty, and I was given a lot of space to maneuver. At my skill level, I still have to take pretty wide "carves" to remain in control of myself going down the mountain. This freedom resulted in the best boarding I've ever experienced. Don't get me wrong, I still have my fair share of falls, one of which had me checking on my body inventory and praying that I don't crap on myself. When we finally got to the bottom of the mountain, Brian mentioned to me how I'm "beginning to get it". Proud moment, yo.

I got two more full runs down the mountain before we called it a day. I was still itching for more, but since I was on such a performance high, I decided to not push for another run and the risk of ruining the day with a crappy run.

It was a great day. Great snow. Great friends. Can't really ask for anything else.

For your viewing and listening pleasure:

N' Chink

R. Kerry

The first will get boring after a while. The second will keep you laughing. I tested them myself.

I haven't felt like blogging lately. If this seems forced, then understand that it was.

I went to the company Christmas party last night. None of my co-workers were going, but I felt that it would be in my best interest to at least try to meet other people in my company, even if I don't interface with them regularly. When my wife and I arrived to the Presidio Golf Clubhouse, we only saw one familiar face, which happened to be my boss'. But other than him, not one other face looked familiar. Observation #1: I don't know anybody. The 20 or so beat that arrived before us were chatting it up in the lodge-esque, all of them dressed in the "cocktail usual". Most of the guys work dark slacks and a dress shirt. Most of the women were wearing dark dresses and skirts and their best black high heels. As I went to the back of the clubhouse to take full advantage of the free booze, I noticed a lot of the eyes wondering who I was and why they've never seen me before.

As I ordered myself a Crown Royal on the rocks, I eerily felt left out and the feeling was very high schoolish. I quickly zoomed to the feeling I had during my first day of high school. You know, the day that you realized that the world is a lot bigger than you thought it was. You get that feeling your first few days of college and when you're at your at the gym and you're there for your first time. And alone.

I guess not working at the "main" company office had contributed to it, along with the fact that I've been with this company for a mere 2 months. As we stood there, my wife and I couldn't help but notice the free food that waiters were walking around it. Hors D' Oeuvres (I had to look that shit up to make sure I spelled it right) sushi, mushroom and goat cheese something somethings, crackers and cheese. Yo, it was free so we to take advantage. I will admit though that sushi isn't exactly the best finger food. I stopped to humorously mention to my wife that this was the first time I've eaten unagi with a napkin.

Observation #2 consisted of the fact that my company is about 50% sales people and that these sales people all fall under a pretty general category: 25-35 year old white male with trophy blonde wife/girlfriend. On this night, you can also add "drunk" to their attributes. Also included in Observation #2 was that when these sales people get drunk, they get loud and obnoxious. And this was BEFORE dinner was served. Observation #2 also coincided with Excuse #1 to leave the party early. Not because of the white and trophy blonde girlfriend/wife, but because of the whole "loud and obnoxious" thingy.

Dinner was buffet and couldn't have started soon enough. As the waiters walked around telling people that the buffet was open, I couldn't help but walk straight to the food. I mean, I have no shame and I was damn hungry. I noticed that a lot of the other people weren't about to be the first ones, so I gladly made the move. Mashed potatos, check. Green beans, check. Prime rib, check. Roasted turkey, check. I sat down and dug in. The prime rib was excellent, and I even forgot the horse radish. The turkey was dry.

While I finished up, my boy Eugene had a seat next to me. He mentioned to me that my boss feels very good about my hiring and that he's happy with my progress. Great news, eh? As friend of his has a seat in front of us and we get into the coversation I was waiting to get into all night: the conversation that would give me insight on this company I work for. It was a great conversation and I think I held my own. I was intelligent, articulate and like all new employees very eager to learn. I actually had a few good conversations that night and I think people were suprisingly impressed. It felt good. I carried myself well, I impressed those I conversed with and I had a beatiful woman on my arm. Another thing that made me feel good about my job was the fact that no one I talked to had anything bad to say about the company. typically you have the "Office Space" conversations at work functions. "This shit sucks" or "I wish so and so would listen to me". None of that talk was heard. I had the opportunity to speak with the CEO, who's son happens to work with me at my office. He mentioned that he's heard nothing but good things about me. Bullshit smalltalk or genuine words, I don't really care. Either way, it's good. He looks like a good guy

After dinner and a few conversations, my wife and I decided to leave. The akwardness never really left our stomachs and we really just wanted to hang out at the house and watch a DVD I just bought. Said my goodbyes and we walked to the car under the soft San Francisco drizzle feeling pretty good about my job and my company.

BTW, my wife LOVED Bad Boys 2, as well. Not a bad way to kick off my work week.

The power of certain words sometimes moves me to make right what has been wrong for so long. These days, people use the words "race" and "ethnicity" interchangeably. In my educated opinion, I feel that "race" is a term that really holds no meaning. The only legitimate "race" is the human race. Any other use of the word irritates me to the point of actually writing about it. The following are a few posts I made on a message board when an issue between "race" and "ethnicity" came up.

---

In the context of American society, Race is based specifically on APPEARANCE rather than actual ethnicity. The white RACE. The black RACE. The Asian RACE. There is nothing ethnically descriptive with any of those racial terms other than appearance.

I mean, I can write an entire thesis based on years of research proving that race is a false concept that is perpetuated by the media to further divide people.

But yo, if it's a word that happens to be "in the dictionary", I HAVE to be wrong, right?

---

This post I wrote in response to the contention that the term "Race" is only slighty different than "Ethnicity".

---

Slighty?

Are you trying to tell me that calling someone "white" is somehow just like calling someone "German"?

Let's take this a little further:

Wouldn't people from both Russia and the UK be considered part of the "white" race? In terms of race, YES because of the color of their skin. In terms of ethnicity, HELL NO.

Are people who are Ethiopian considered "black" in the same sense that people from Haiti and Trinidad are "black". The fact is that "black" is not an adequate term because it only tells you what they look like, not the history of their genealogy.

Another great example is the varying colors of skin you will see in the country of Brazil. If you know anything about South American colonialism, you'll know that the population of Brazil is an amalgamation of British colonists, Portuguese colonists, African slaves and indigenous people. What this mixture of people is a people with a wide range of varying skin tones. Brazilian can be anything from a dark, African-like skin tone all the way to a blonde haired, light skinned European skin tone. But are you trying to tell me that even though they are "Brazilian" one is black and one is white in terms of race? They all have identical genealogies but through the years dominant and recessive traits took different turns with each individual, but it doesn't make them much different on the genetic level.

What YOU are saying is that ethnicity and race are basically the same. What I am saying is that they are completely different things. "Race" has been a term that is being misused everywhere in our society. It has become an acceptable form of virtual segregation. Unfortunately, the use of that term is inaccurate, dated, and completely wrong.

36. 40. The first number is the number of presents my wife and I have bought so far. The second number is the total amount of presents we have to buy for Christmas. Not bad, eh?

I'm heading to 24 Hour after my shift today. Being that it's my first time ever joining a gym,Ryan was kind enough to give me a few tips on a work out routine and gym etiquette. Not too shaby. Thanks man.

I finally got a haircut on Monday. It's pretty damn sharp if you ask me. Too bad I have this huge ass zit on my forehead.

I don't regret the conversation we had yesterday. Sometimes you have to take a step back before you can take two steps forward. I've seen our future in a different light these past few months, and I think it was selfish for me to assume you had the same perspective. Come to think of it, I was probably blocking your view with the back of my head. I know it hurt to hear how disappointed I was. I still am. Admittedly, it also hurts to know that someone you love so much and see as your better half failed fulfill certain expectations. Looking back, I couldn't have possibly expected you to know and understand. We never really talked about it. I also didn't put your thoughts and feelings into account. I may be disappointed, but I don't love you any less. I don't see you as a lesser person. All I ask is for you to take my hand and walk with me. As we're walking, I can tell you what I see and you can do the same. I'll help you up every hill and pick you up when there's an unmanagable puddle. I promise that if we get lost I won't abandon you. We need to find a way to make "it" happen and I can't do it alone.

Please take my hand and walk with me. Please?

I enter this Christmas season with mixed feelings.

Christmas has become such a commercial event that it makes me sick. There are all these people scrambling around trying to buy just the right present. Television is on 24/7 Amber Alert reminding you that if you get someone a shitty present, they won't love you anymore. I mean, kids are making their parents bend over backwards just to get the present they so desperately need (read: want). It's bullshit. What did they do? Is it their birthday or something? Did they somehow lose any notion that Christmas celebrates the birth of God's only son? Kids don't even give back to their parents. While mom or dad are at Toy 'R Us trying to find that X-Box Junior told them to buy for him, Junior is online telling his Internet friends how much he hates his parents. Then, come Christmas day, Junior is playing his X-Box while mom and dad have to clean up after his messy ass and put away the card he bought them with his mom's money. I don't get that shit.

I know "It's the thought that counts", but I get this feeling that even the thought isn't being represented. I mean, what the fuck does Santa Claus stand for? Christmas has become as meaningless tournament games for 3rd place. Don't get me wrong, I love giving presents. I take this opportunity to thank people who I haven't thanked enough. And I'm sure that a lot of people feel the same way. But that fuckin' chatterbox that we call a television has got a lot of us brainwashed into consuming. Not because we want to or because we have to, but because society has told us that it is a normal event.

I know tons of parents that would rather have their kids other family members tell them that they are loved than receiving a present. The chatterbox has us believing that we can gain status and happiness through material goods when all we really need is love.

Fuck a present. Find some love and spread that around this Christmas season.

Thank you to my dad, who has given his life to his family. I use to resent him because he's so much older than most of my friend's dads. He never played catch with me. He wasn't able to teach me how to play sports. We didn't relate much, and I couldnt' understand it until I started learning more about him through my auntie, his older sister.. My auntie told me that he got married so late in his life because he was so afraid that he wouldn't' be able to support the family he so desperately wanted. He's not very demonstrative of his love, but I feel it. I see it. His life is a testament to it. I don't think any words can describe him, but he is the hardest working man I will ever know. Not once have I seen him drunk. Not once have I seen him complain. Not once have I ever seen him quit anything he's started. He's the kind of father that would quit smoking the day his son was born. He's the kind of father that would finish typing your report for you when you feel asleep next to the typewriter. He's the kind of father that would come to your baseball games even after a long day of work and 3 hours in rush hour traffic. He's the perfect example of what hard work gets you. I now see him with my son and I see the traits of a great father. He's kind, loving, caring and compassionate. Most of all, he's patient. Love transcends generations. It's the basis of every family and we have a strong foundation. Thank you, dad. I can only wish to be half the man you are.

Thank you to my mom, who has made me everything I am. At times it is clear that we cannot stand each other, and I used to hate her for that. It is only now that I realize that we are two of the same. We clash because we are so alike. She criticizes not to put down but to teach. It's not her fault she knows so much. She's the oldest out of 5 children. The daughter of a musician and a teacher, she was forced to be a mom before she was a teenager. All her life she spent taking care of children and only now that her children are grown up is she able to enjoy life as an adult. So now she goes out with my dad to Reno one week, then Vegas another. It was just these last few years that these trips have been frequent, but it didn't' dawn on me that they were never able to do this as a couple. My mom had to balance motherhood and her career since her marriage started, and it's not an easy task. When we moved to Vallejo, my mom became less and less a part of my life because she gave up 3 hours a day to commute to work. With my younger sister hogging all the "mom" time, I was forced to look elsewhere for the attention I had as her "mama's boy". She never had to touch me, or talk to me. She just had to acknowledge me and I was happy. I wanted her attention so much I would exhaggerate sickness so she could stay home and take care of me. I know it killed her inside to know that it would never be the same as it was when I was young, before my sister moved to the States from the Philippines. It was just us. Me and my mom. I see her reliving those moments with my son and it's bitter sweet to know that that used to be me and I'll never get that undivided attention again. Thank you for being you and letting me be me. I know where I get my charm, charisma, and the ability to draw peoples' attention so easily. I may not tell you all the time, but I love you.

**WARNING- This shit was written at 3:30 in the morning about 10 hours into my shift at work. Forgive the lack of fluidity and/or coherence**

Misunderstood has become a cliche. We are all misunderstood because we create our own realities in our minds. Points of view are so unique that it is impossible to see things through the same lens. Two people will tell the different stories about the same events, almost as if they were the witnesses of separate events, or maybe similar events that happened in different places. Even if you fail to live your own life because of twin-hood, your interpretation of the world around you will remain unique.

I'm sick of hearing shit like that: "No one understands me," or "I'm weird," or "I like anal sex with donkeys". Okay, well maybe not the last one, but you get the point. People who complain about being misunderstood typically cite narrow-mindedness or prejudice, as if they are a simple picture that you can see only if you really concentrate. You know, like those posters and books from the 90's where you'd have to stare at them to see the "hidden picture" (which I have to admit I've NEVER seen, but that's a whole other blog in itself). But it's bullshit. We are all intricate jigsaw puzzles with missing pieces, some more than others. Misunderstanding is a given. I mean, we barely understand ourselves, right?

So is the concept of being "misunderstood" completely bogus? My opinion? Yes.

No one will know you like you do. And you don't even know yourself! You might run into someone with similar interests and find a chemistry or a "compatibility" with them, but will they ever completely understand you? No. They can go on to learn everything about you and be able to validate and justify every action and every recurring behavior, but they will not know what exactly makes your wheels turn. The will never see that old programming flow chart that serves as your decision making process.

So we're fucked, right? We'll never really be completely compatible with anyone? Well, no again.

Yeah, I'm married. Does my wife know me more than anybody I know? Yes. Does she know what makes me tick? A little. Does she really know every thing there is to know about me? No. I've had events in my life that have affected me in ways I can't even understand myself. I can describe the events. I can explain what I've learned from the experience. But I cant' tell her without bias how I have grown or deteriorated in terms of my character, decision making, and personality. She can sympathize, but she can't empathize. And that's the difference. I've emptied my box of pieces and my wife has put them all in place. There are still holes in my puzzle, but that's okay. She can see a good part of the picture.

We're all misunderstood. Men don't understand women. Women don't understand men. Old people don't understand kids. Kids don't understand old people. I mean, our own parents fail to find any level of understanding with us. Does that mean that our relationships suffer because of this lack of empathy? I don't think so. I think the beauty of interpersonal relationships that develop and grow is the fact that we strive to know each other on that level. It's like trying to live a life with Jesus and God. We're never going to live a life without sin, but the journey of our lives in an attempt to do so.

There's nothing I love better than getting to know somebody. It's exciting. It's fun. Trying to get to know what makes a person tick to me is much better than drinking up with somebody partying. I love dialogue. I love putting the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle together. Sure, with everybody there will be missing pieces. Some people will chose to only give you a glance at their puzzle. Hey, that's all I ask for.

Here's another piece of my puzzle, guys. Holla back.

I'm everwhere with this blog entry. Nothing to flip out about.

I think I've found another blog to stalk. Sepi,an aspiring writer has caught my eye and I think she's cooler than the other side of the pillow.

I've been looking to sign up at 24 Hour Fitness. I'm getting fuckin' unbelievably fat. Shit is horrible.

Can you believe all this Michael Jackson shit?

This shit is great.

I still need a damn haircut. It's horrible. It's the longest it's been in a good 10 years. That doesn't really say much, since I've been bald for a good part of the past 10 years, but still. Shit is long, yo.

Ultimate Cheeseburgers are still $1.99 at Jack In The Crack. It feels so bad but it taste so good.

Have a good Friday. I'll be working all night. Again. All by myself.

Oh shit. Happy Birthday Karen. Your present is a "slash" present. Expect it around December 25th.

I treat my mom like shit. Now, I don't hit her. I don't yell at her. I don't curse at her. I just don't listen to her. I don't take her criticism well. I don't tell her I love her. I don't show her I love her. I love her.

Sometimes I treat my wife like shit. Nww, I don't hit her. Sometimes I yell at her. Sometimes I curse at her. I always listen to her. I take her criticism well, I tell her I love her. I try to show her I love her. I love her.

I treat women I don't know well. I never hit them. I never yell at them. I never curse at them. I listen carefully. I take criticsm well. I don't love these women.

Holy Kris Kross! I got my shit backwards, yo.

I have these women in my life that have given everything they have and I take them for granted. I have these other women who have given me nothing, but they get charming, kind, and classy Joe.

I'm trying. Trust me, I'm trying.

Believe it or not, I used to be a speech major in college. I took classes in debate, public speaking and interpersonal communication. Speaking was always something I've always felt confident doing ever since high school. I was the emcee of all our rallies during my senior year. My cousin asked me to fly out to Calgary to emcee a reception in her family. Hell, my high school job required me to speak in front of thousands of people a day. I've had people at job interviews compliment me on my confidence during the interview. My spoken words have a dexterity about them, as if they could

I speak well. I speak uniquely. I used to hear it all the time. I was once told that I was an instruemnt of God and that my ability to communicate would get the word of God to more people than I could ever imagine. Talk about fuckin' pressure. I even had a girl compliment me back in 11th grade, telling me that I had a "unique eloquence". The ironic thing was that I had no idea what "eloquent" meant at the time.

But I do like being articulate. Learning a new word to use to me is like a carpenter buying a new tool or an artist discovering a new stroke. I love talking. To anybody. I think speaking to people makes me feel comfortable, almost like a security blanket. I get a lot of affirmation from others through communicating orally. When people don't talk to me, it almost feels insulting, as if they are shuting me out by ignoring my words. But even deeper than that, they are ignoring my feelings and ideas.

My wife is a good listener. I think that's why we work. My feelings flow out of me constantly, and it takes a good ear to hear what I'm feeling. My son on the other had has corks in his ear. Okay, he's three. But damn, he doesn't listen to shit and I can't stand it.

I just typed those few paragraphs out and I realized that none of it makes sense , is not coherent, nor does it bear anything that may interest you or anybody for that matter. Forgive me readers-er "reader", for I don't know what I do, but I do know that my blog sucks. This writing shit sucks. I wish I could have a face to face chat with all of you to get a true taste of my personality. This Internet shit doesn't pick up voice inflections, tones or cadence. I have a lot of important shit to say and writing isn't exactly the best way to get it out me. Ahh fuck, go read Ryan. That mutherfucker said some crazy shit on Saturday.

I take detours in this muthafucka. I used to hate myself for straying from that path I set years ago. I look at my life, and although it may not fit some expectations like a glove, I'm like Coke Escovedo and "I Wouldn't Change A Thing". Life's a bitch, but I took that bitch, bent her over and fucked her. She can't be a backseat driver forever. Always telling me I'm driving too fast or that I'm going the wrong way and shit. I took the steering wheel and went off-roading. I'm blazing more trails than Rasheed, yo.

People look at my life and consider me a failure, as if I somehow fell short of something. Fuck failure. The only goals I feel like achieving are the ones that I set for myself. On a journey up some of these hills, I'd run into something new to shoot for. Serendipity is my friend and Lady Luck has me on her shit list. I spend too much time thinking about what could have been and not enough time cherishing what I have. These past months have been good. I look back on my shortcomings and I've learned from them. Remember when Iron Mike was poppin' off at the mouth talking about Lennox Lewis' kids and wanting to destroy him? Well, I'm that confident. You can call me The Grouch because success is destiny.

So what you can't write a book about my life? Who gives a fuck if this shit isn't movie worthy? Man, this shit isn't even blog worthy, ya know? But fuck what you heard, I'm happy man. Life is good and it can only get better.

Now get the fuck outta my Kool-Aid.

Staring at this made me realize that dumb people use the Internet far more than smart people.

Driving home at 5 in the morning everyday from work is somewhat interesting. While I'm driving home to get into bed, most people are either getting up or are already on the road to get to work. There are times like last night when I have to stop and get gas on my way home, and I see these people. Just a hint of oncoming dawn in the sky mixed with a few California clouds is what they wake up to. They get to the gas station, maybe get a coffee and some smokes. And a lot of them DO NOT look happy. I mean, it's fuckin' 5 in the morning. I pull into the gas station with my car stereo bumpin'. I don't have any subwoofers or anything in my car, but it's still pretty loud. You know, typical young asshole type shit. I mean, for me it's only about 8 or 9pm on my body clock, so i can tolerate it. I stand there leaning against my car as the gas pumps and nodding my head to the beat. Maybe it's to some James Brown or Talib Kweli. Either way it's loud, so the reluctant early birds scowl or just look at me confused as they walk by as if asking "How the fuck can you listen to his radio so loud this early in the morning?" with their eyebrows alone.

Ah well, that's what I do now. My days of living a normal life with a schedule that is in tune with most are pretty much over. It's part of the journey, yo. The sacrafices I make right now can shape the rest of my life. I wish somebody told me this 10 years ago.

Oh wait, my mom and dad told me that 10 years ago. I just chose not to listen. Fuck, chalk another one up for the parents.

Poor Rusty

INSANEEQUINE: let me get this straight
muscle6868: ?
INSANEEQUINE: am i the "rail thin Olive Oyl looking chick"?
muscle6868: umm
muscle6868: no
muscle6868: that would be winnie cooper
INSANEEQUINE: AHHH
muscle6868: form the wonder yeard
INSANEEQUINE: ok ok
INSANEEQUINE: ps we aren't a "less popular blog" <3
muscle6868: no?
INSANEEQUINE: nope
muscle6868: oh
muscle6868: you sure?
INSANEEQUINE: positive
muscle6868: hmm
INSANEEQUINE: less popular then say, moxie or instapundit
muscle6868: you dont post often
INSANEEQUINE: more popular than say, you and raymi
INSANEEQUINE: i don't have to!
muscle6868: oh
muscle6868: why wouldnt you
INSANEEQUINE: we get over 1500 visits a day usually
INSANEEQUINE: i'm a busy kid :\ i wish i could
muscle6868: i see
muscle6868: well, im not going for popularity
muscle6868: so thats not a big deal
muscle6868: raymi can be whatever
INSANEEQUINE: well you bought it up ;-) just wanted to let you know you
weren't doing me any favors.
muscle6868: im lost
muscle6868: doing you favors in what regard?
INSANEEQUINE: "It's what we do. We go to the less popular pages and make
them feel special."
muscle6868: you dont feel special?
muscle6868: feeling special is not from hits
INSANEEQUINE: but i'm not sure if you're talking to say anything or
talking
just to talk?
muscle6868: I commented on your blog
muscle6868: that doesn't make you feel special?
INSANEEQUINE: 26 times on the last post?
INSANEEQUINE: not really
muscle6868: why not?
INSANEEQUINE: picking on nate is not nice
muscle6868: Nate donated 100 dollars
INSANEEQUINE: he's a very rich real life friend with deep pockets
muscle6868: if he was that rich
muscle6868: he'd fund the whole thing
INSANEEQUINE: he will
INSANEEQUINE: i told him not to
muscle6868: well then
muscle6868: theres no reason to take anyone elses money
INSANEEQUINE: i'm not letting my friend pay for the whole thing. i'm not
even planning on letting you guys pay for the whole thing. we're just
taking what you feel like giving <3
muscle6868: hmm
muscle6868: but Nate feels like paying for the whole thing
INSANEEQUINE: and i didn't let him.
muscle6868: but he feels like it
muscle6868: and you said you'd take what we feel like giving
muscle6868: so why no?
INSANEEQUINE: i don't feel like letting him pay for the whole thing
INSANEEQUINE: i don't feel like letting anyone pay for the whole thing.
muscle6868: so is this virginia boy gonna get a kiss?
muscle6868: i mean, at least that
muscle6868: its prom
INSANEEQUINE: he has a girlfriend
INSANEEQUINE: who he is taking
muscle6868: wow
INSANEEQUINE: i don't even know who is taking me
muscle6868: poor guy
muscle6868: so Im still curious as to why I ont make you fel special
muscle6868: dont*
INSANEEQUINE: i think it's quality not quantity that makes a girl feel
special.
INSANEEQUINE: that and flowers.
muscle6868: theres quality comments on there?
INSANEEQUINE: are there?
muscle6868: im asking you
muscle6868: its your blog
INSANEEQUINE: i think some of them must be
muscle6868: so you decide what quality is
INSANEEQUINE: with 144 to choose from
muscle6868: but not mine
INSANEEQUINE: i'm just saying, whatever comment you have on the post can
be
said in less than 26 comments?
muscle6868: can it though?
muscle6868: it wont ahve the same feeling
INSANEEQUINE: i think it would have a better feeling :D
muscle6868: hmm
INSANEEQUINE: just a thought.
INSANEEQUINE: kickwhy.dem
INSANEEQUINE: oops
INSANEEQUINE: heeee
INSANEEQUINE: you said you like brutal honesty :D
muscle6868: i think they al have a little something to them
muscle6868: and by clumping them up
muscle6868: their integrity would be compromised
INSANEEQUINE: i will review them later and give you second opinion.
muscle6868: hey, no worries
muscle6868: i dont want you wasting any time on them
INSANEEQUINE: they're my comments, they're like children.
INSANEEQUINE: i am going to post tonight anyway.
muscle6868: you should ask all 1500 to comment
INSANEEQUINE: i know that would be super.
muscle6868: yes it would
muscle6868: so mine would just get lost in the shuffle
INSANEEQUINE: 1500 comments would be better than christmas.
muscle6868: it would?
INSANEEQUINE: well sort of.
muscle6868: i sure hope not
muscle6868: giving gifts and making people smile
muscle6868: or horny guys who love you saying how cute you are 1000 times
INSANEEQUINE: well you know
INSANEEQUINE: our readership is a little more diverse than that
muscle6868: 66%
INSANEEQUINE: probably someplace around there
muscle6868: so, thats 1000 out of 1500
muscle6868: like i said
INSANEEQUINE: actually, i'd say more like 55%
INSANEEQUINE: it could be up since all of the gorillamask plugs
muscle6868: it may
muscle6868: so what does hits get you?
muscle6868: im new to this whole blog thing
INSANEEQUINE: 1500 visits, not hits
muscle6868: whats the diff?
INSANEEQUINE: hits is every time someone visits some aspect of your page..
so someone visits the front page and it loads up 10 pictures and it
registers 11 hits.
INSANEEQUINE: visits is the number of people who came to the front page.
INSANEEQUINE: unique people
muscle6868: i see
muscle6868: gotcha
muscle6868: and what does that get
muscle6868: money?
INSANEEQUINE: it doesn't get me anything at all, since i wrote for half a
year with bascially no visits. wait, it's fun.
INSANEEQUINE: but i started it for me and lauren.
muscle6868: i see
muscle6868: better than christmas
INSANEEQUINE: maybe a really lame christmas.
muscle6868: hmm
muscle6868: if you say so
muscle6868: well, im sorry i upset your comments box
INSANEEQUINE: quite alright
INSANEEQUINE: you just loved them a little too much
INSANEEQUINE: ok, time for me to be productive <3 i don't mean to sound
like a major bitch, i am glad that you read and comment but don't pick on
my
little friend nate he's so very nice.
muscle6868: hes a nerd
muscle6868: but its ok

I ran into an old friend I used to be very close to at a club recently. We chit chatted above the loud music and exchanged frequent smiles. She was asking me about my life and how everything was going. I couldn't, though, help but feel as if it were a diplomatic action rather than actual interest. Her questions were valid, but the actual interest in her eyes wasn't there. She was fuckin' fakin' it like Meg Ryan. She didnt' give a fuck. She's had my number for years, and my email account has been the same for 5 years. But there was no effort there to check on me. I called her from time to time and she'd call me back just so she wasn't the asshole. But she and I both know that if she were ever really interested in my life, she could contact me.

But no. Nothing. She chose not to and now she felt compelled to seem interested and concerned, which was complete bullshit.

I'd rather had no smiles than fake smiles. People mistake fakeness for kindness. I'd rather have someone that dislikes me act like it instead of playing a role. Fuck being fake. I have old "friends" that come at me with that "so how are you doing?" line, when it's way too obvious that they really don't give a fuck. I typically say "Same ol' shit", put it in their pipe for them and let them smoke it. I don't play that shit. Never have, never will. I wanted to say "FUCK YOU" so bad, but I was drunk and I would rather have a cigarette then have people mad at me, the ultimate buzzkill.

I'm not perfect either. I have this habit of talking shit about everybody. Even my friends. And it's true. I talk shit all the time IF talking shit constitutes talking about a person in a critical manner behind their back. Theyr'e my friends, man. Regardless of how they act or what they say, they will always be my friends. I will stand by them in a time of war and I will comfort them in a time of sorrow. Sometimes it's easy talking about a person when they're not around and say nothing when they are there. But that's where I'm different. I'll tell you you did something fucked up behind your back AND to your face. I call a duck a duck. My closest friends are like my brothers. I hold them in such high reguard and I hold them to sometimes unreachable standards. Sometimes I have to call them on it,but I love them regardless. I wouldn't expect any less from them. I kind of wish they would make me more aware of my own faults. Call me on the fucked up shit I do, because I know there is plenty to point out.