Monthly Archives: March 2007


TWYL presents, an informal guide to long island nightlife, and all of the fun folks you’ll meet there.


My foray into this place began at approximately 5pm.  I did not actually go there until after nine, but since I started drinking vodka then, I consider it the first step towards attempting a night out somewhere like this.  I passed out for a while, showered, plastered my hair with guido glue, and put on a button down shirt better suited for a retired mobster.

Anyway, as I walked through this place, I began to notice a certain social pattern.  The people began to take on movie extra-like qualities, for example, girl at the bar #1, guy buying the disinterested girl a drink, things like that.  So, after observing these folks, and their behavior, I began to break them down into categories.  Here are a few of the types I saw.


OBVIOUSLY MARRIED OLD GUY –  this creepo is near and dear to my heart.  he displays his wedding band proudly, while passing a cosmo over to a young girl.  his tales of marital woe seem neverending, and he is capable of making june cleaver look like a lying manipulative whore (which she might have been for all I know, tv will fool ya).  typically, their airheaded prey will take drinks from them, while giggling behind their hands to their friends about how “gross” and “creepy” this guy is.  however, should the aforementioned creep be driving a benz, or ferrari, well, you know.


THE “HOT CHICK” – these are the alpha females, usually wearing the least amount of clothes, and the most amount of makeup and/or tanning cream.  they are a favorite target of the OBVIOUSLY MARRIED OLD GUY, but generally these types are too busy looking bored while trying desperately to garner the attention they need for their massive egos to sustain themselves.  they criticize everyone, and everything, and will generally make fun of other “bitches”, especially those who are just like them.  no one likes competition, and the larger the perceived threat, the more animosity this creature will display.  usually they fall victim to the endless charms of the OBNOXIOUS GUIDO.


THE REMORA – these can be either gender.  much like the fish that attaches itself to large sharks to eat the scraps, these individuals hang on, and around a pack leader, usually the alpha male, or female of the pack.  generally, THE “HOT CHICK”, and the OBNOXIOUS GUIDO attract most of these types, but every now and then, a pack of remoras will venture out on their own.  these individuals will usually situate themselves in a corner, or some out of the way place, and watch the others, desperately hoping for a chance to be noticed, even by accident, by the opposite sex.


THE OBNOXIOUS GUIDO – these effeminate “males” generally venture out in collared shirts, whose colors would usually lead to a question about sexual orientation.  they are also typically well groomed, and by well groomed I mean that they could enter miss america and not miss a beat in the swimsuit competition.  they cannot be by themselves at any time, and generally are surrounded by male REMORAS, who they will refer to as their “boys” (eg: ey yo, dats my “boy” vinny ova deya).  they often drink heavily, which leads to loudly spoken words of wisdom, such as, “every girl is a hewa ‘cept for my mom and sister”.  communicating with these individuals is often as ineffective, as it is dangerous, regardless of your gender.  their favorite prey is THE “HOT CHICK”, who usually is impressed by their loud ignorance and anabolically enhanced frames.  once again, I advise extreme caution when interacting with these creatures, as their spiky heads are generally filled with more testosterone than a barry bonds milkshake.  should you make the mistake of arousing one of these types, back away slowly, and pretend you dropped something, their vision depends on motion, so if you stay down long enough you will be forgotten in due time.  one wrong move, and they will “kick your ass”.


THE CLICKY ETHNICS – these individuals are generally not white, and have come in a group.  do not, under and circumstances attempt to interject, at all.  should you find one of them attractive, and want to chat with them, be forewarned.  if you are a male, chances are, one of the males in the group has either already slept with your target, or wants to.  should you be a female, be aware that this is also the case.  you will either be “jumped”, or get your “bitch ho eyes scratched out”.  depending on your gender of course.


THE INAPPROPRIATELY DRESSED – again, this is males and females.  usually, it is a flagrant violation of good taste, such as a muscle shirt on a potbelly, or a tube top where it does not belong.  these poor creatures truly believe they “look good”, any attempts to correct this line of thought will generally be met with resistance.  so do yourself a favor and laugh quietly.


THE “EXOTICS” – this is purely a female category, and it generally consists of one or two hot looking asian girls who stand by the bar.  usually OBVIOUSLY MARRIED OLD GUY buys them drinks by the gross.  THE “EXOTICS” are unlike THE “HOT CHICK” in the way that they will actually entertain conversation with these suckers, but never in a million years go beyond that.


finally, there is the help,

THE DISINTERESTED BARTENDER – this also is generally a female, nine times out of ten in possession of a ridiculous looking fake rack.  they will feign interest in you, and smile as if they are happy you are ogling their goods.  perhaps some are, but most of them are too busy planning their next low carb meal, and hoping to catch a quick break to head into the back and grab a bump.  OBNOXIOUS GUIDO generally gives these individuals enough in a night to pay the rent for half a year.


THE SURLY BOUNCER – this individual has had a bad night.  this individual has had a bad day.  this individual has a bad everything.  in other words, he is a colossal dick.  his demeanor gives one the impression that he had to pay you for you to be there.  he is judge, jury, and executioner.  should you be unfortunate enough to arouse one of these creatures, run outside, and keep running until there is no one around.  there is nothing as pleasureable to THE SURLY BOUNCER than having any sort of excuse to kick your teeth in.  THE “HOT CHICK” hangs on these walking phallus objects shamelessly.


so there we are.  I am certain I missed a few there, but we’ve all been there, and maybe some of us have been that. to that I say, shame on you.


But I Understand.

I can remember years ago, watching Chris Rock do his stand up special, roll with the new.  He had a great bit about O.J., in which the punchline went “now I’m not saying he should have done it, but I understand.”  I laughed for years about that, and I laugh harder now that I understand that sentiment so well and so personally.  Another one of his lines from that same bit that rang especially true in retrospect was, “I aint moving back with my momma cause you aint in love”.

How true.  Moving on,

Please, my readers, take a moment to browse through this story before you continue on.



Ok?  Good.

“Eric McLean, 31, had been supporting his wife and family as a pizza deliveryman while working to complete his college degree so he could become a school band director. Even though he said he knew his wife was having an affair, he said he didn’t leave her because he loved her.”

How typical.  How fucking typical.  This bitch gets a guy who loves her, sacrifices his life, his career, everything, just so she could get ahead, and what does she do?

Yup, she fucks her student.  Well no, not just fucks him, takes her kids to the park, with this KID, and holds his hand, RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE CHILDREN.  Look, at 18, kid or not, you should know better than to be doing that shit.

And at 29, with kids, married, she should have certainly known better.

Hey Beyonce, wheres the song that addresses this kind of fucked up shit that happens all the time?  Men get a bad rap, mostly because of our biology, but women are generally more devious, and insidious.  Leeching away at a man until they have enough to live comfortably without him, and leaving his dried husk behind.  It is this type of calculated audacity that often happens, but it is rarely heard about, why?

Well, thats easy.  Because it is often overshadowed by something outrageous and blatant that a man did.  Such as, shooting the fool who was having some fun banging his teacher.

Could you imagine, giving up your life, your career, your goals, all so you could furnish the opportunity for the person you love to succeed?  And then finding out after all that, they would rather be fucking someone else? 

Anyone who has followed my stories and life up to this point knows how close to home this story hits, but for a moment, try to separate my own sense of monumental betrayal from my words, and try to imagine being smart, wanting to learn, but having to take orders from vincenzo the pizza tosser because it will all be worth it to see your precious ladys dream come true.  And then, you find this out.

It is stories like this that serve to reinforce my idea that selfish behavior is the key to sanity.  Do for yourself, let everyone else take care of their own shit, and realize that the only true love is self love. 


Now look dear reader, I’m not saying he should have done it…..

……..but I understand

(its just too bad you missed one whitebread),


Live it, Love it (but dont cheat on it with a student),



I need you.

Ears to hear,

Nose to breathe,

Eyeholes to see, full of jelly,

All these exits in my head,

Entrances I’d like instead,

Places on me open wide,

Only lids to close my eyes,

Cover my ears and pinch my nose,

Smell from you comes stale and old,

Makes me wish I’d end up dead,

Honey, I need you,

Like I need another hole in my head.


“Honey why you calling me so late?”

Ok boys and girls, the long answer lies in the rest of the lyrics, and a little creative reasoning on the part of the listener.  I suppose we could delve into that, but not yet.  I prefer the short answer.

Let’s ask that question one more time, shall we?

“Honey why you calling me so late?”


“Because I’m an indecisive confused lying whorebag intent on selfishly mindfucking you.”

Click.  The end.

But no, that wouldn’t make a very touching song now would it?


“It’s funny that you’re calling me tonight
And, yes, I’ve dreamt of you too
And does he know you’re talking to me
Will it start a fight
No I don’t think she has a clue”


Now, maybe it’s just me.  Maybe I am just so damaged, and so cynical, and so easily disgustable, (er, disgusted?)


Fuck that.  I’m not.  It’s songs like this, and people who enjoy hearing such bullshit that serve to reinforce the ideas I have learned from having my insides roasted.  There are no lessons as good as the ones that life teaches you, and the idea that this is an acceptable tune is revolting and sadly typical of a modern young person. 

Exhaust every possible resource, say everything, do anything, fucking kill yourself first.  But don’t, don’t, settle to date another person if the one you really want is out there. 

And even worse, well, worst of all I should say.  The singer sounds like a strangled giant squid.  I say this only because I heard the sound of a strangled giant squid on my second favorite channel, discovery.  The only other sound that was more terrible than the loud futile squishing, was the staccato squeals of the lead japanese researcher.  Yet, I would rather listen to a white stripes cover band composed of that squid and Dr. Takahoshi than listen to that talking cervix belt out another line about relationship intrigue.

I like dogs, they are stupid, yet honest creatures.  I find it ironic that women call men “dogs” as a derogatory term.  I happen to think that is a compliment of the highest order. 

It’s times like these I have to cleanse myself by recalling lyrics from sage poets, who really knew how to handle relationships properly,


“Bitches aint shit but ho’s and tricks.”

Ah, Snoop, woe to the man who forgets this and listens to the aforementioned crap, and then promptly goes out to buy the new Nickelback and Daughtry albums.

Just fucking hang up you big piece of pussy lip.

For posterity, I will demonstrate proper phone call procedure.

[ring, ring]


[slight sob and whimper]

“It’’s me, can you talk?”

“Wait, who is this?”

[pathetic sniffle]

“Janet…it’s Janet”

[pull phone away from ear, and stare for a moment in disbelief, as if to say, “bitch… please”]

“You gots the wrong number ho.”

[hang up and snicker, then head back to your bedroom and answer your girlfriends inquiry about who was on the phone with, “wrong number”, then remind yourself why you aren’t with the previously mentioned sloppy bitch by nailing your girlfriend like you was getting paid to do it]


There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?


Live it, Love it, (but don’t entertain its late night phone calls)


Bye, bye, love.***

I watched eternal sunshine of the spotless mind for what must have been the fiftieth time last night, but this time, I did not watch it alone.

I remember wanting that done to me so badly.  Imagine my surprise when I discovered that memories and people can be effectively erased.  The first method I investigated, was using drugs, this link is indicative of what I discovered.

This one was also particularly exciting for me,

Then, I read this paragraph, a direct quote from a memory researcher,

“Let me give a caveat to that. Let’s suppose I said I am going to say a word to you and then I am going to use a new magical technique that technology has provided to eliminate that memory. So now I say “bicycle” and I go zap. Now think about bicycle. I said the word bicycle, but you know the general meaning of bicycle, you know what a bicycle looks like, you may remember a specific bicycle, you may remember having done something on a specific bicycle, and you remember how to ride a bicycle. Did I get rid of all of those? Not very likely, because those are all very deeply embedded in all kinds of memories that you have. Let’s suppose that I did get rid of all of those; then you’d lose a huge portion of your life. Everything you knew about riding a bicycle would go, which would mean everything connected to that would also go. Your home, your family would be gone, and it can’t work that way. There is an interconnectedness to the knowledge we have. Information does not exist in the abstract.”

I realized that this made a lot of sense.  So, by erasing Danielle from my mind, which I fully intended on doing, I would likely end up either killing, or dulling many memories involving my children.  It is for this reason, and this reason alone that I did not consent to a combination of hypno- and electroshock therapy.

Those two things, plus a revolutionary new drug called propranolol is really the best way to go about it.  I was informed of this by a small laboratory call New Day, which specialized in smoking cessation and weight loss hypnosis.  I was skeptical at first, but after doing my own research, I discovered that they not only were correct, they were also thorough. 

The shock therapy and and hypnotherapy condition your mind to not recall that person/memories, then, the propranolol disconnects the memories from charged emotions, so that it does not come rushing back during a fit of sadness or blind rage one day. 

The process was outlined to me, I made a monetary deposit (the entire process from beginning to end was 700 dollars), and I anxiously waited.  I spoke to several psychologists regarding my upcoming procedure.  The general concensus was “this is dangerous and a very poor way of dealing with painful memories”.  Of course, I only had one real concern.


“Will it work?”


Every single reply, with much hesitation is some cases, was “yes”.  My current professor, Dr. David W. Harmon, also confirmed this for me, had I gone through with it, I would have been looking at Danielle as if she were virtually a stranger for some time now.  Not only would this have been incredibly satisfying, it would have saved me months of emotional anguish.  Yet, knowing how likely it would be to damage other things I wanted to keep, and, the knowledge that I would piss off my girlfriend to the Nth degree (I still do not entirely believe her, but she claimed she would never speak to me again if i had gone through with the procedure) kept me from writing a check for the remaining amount.

They were very understanding, and returned my deposit happily.  It gave me the impression that they were loath to do this to me as well.  The secretary merely handed me an envelope and smiled. 

Being heartbroken sucks.  And there are ways to fix it, and to grow from it.  But sometimes it stagnates, and begins to tear at the seams of your life.  In that case, it is comforting to know that there are ways to erase that pain.

Just because I didn’t do it then, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do it.  Let me also add that most people will tell you this is not possible.  Or, that it cannot be done, or that it can be done, but not in a realistic and all encompassing way.

Those people are either mis-informed, or flat out liars.  Lacuna is a fake company, and the movie procedure is also fake.  But erasing someone is very real, and it can be done.  I will not be giving out the information, but if any of you are genuinely curious, I will be happy to point you in the right direction. 


“A moment lasts all of a second, but the memory lives on forever.”


Not anymore.


Live it, Love it, (Forget it)




(P.S.  She basically spent the entire movie telling me how much she hated it, but it was the idea of it,  not the movie itself, which even she would have to admit was good)

*** As you can see, this was posted in March, of 2007.  It is now October of 2008.  Dr. Tsiens research was not made public until the reports were submitted this month.***

Take me home.

Suddenly I am back in Mexico City, listening to the sound of the justice league coming back in the picture, and I am sitting in front of a tv with rabbit ears, surrounded by poor mexican children, wondering why I am starving to death.

I watched 300 last night, listening to the crickets chirp, and it brought me back to home, to spain, where I could see the olive groves as far as I could see, and I slept amongst them many a night.  I stole figs to eat, and I lived as bandits do, swimming in the creeks to get clean and eating fruit when I could.  This was the life I wanted, farming, and spelunking when I could, there were times I remembered catching fish with my hands, and cooking them over a fire because I thought that was how it should be done.   I was right, but I had no idea how to properly bone a meal, and I almost choked to death in the wild more than once.

I could have killed my parents on the plane ride home, sure, leeches weren’t pleasant, but preferable to the leeches I found in new york.

How could they?  I was married, I had babies, I love my babies.  Oh what I would have given to have raised my boys in a place where you could still smash almonds on rocks and pick peaches off the trees for dessert.  We could have harvested the crop together and then I would have passed my lore on to them, and our family crop would have stayed in the family. 

No one knows how much it hurt me to not have the mother of my children ever meet my real family, and my children go to the place I should have stayed in.  I could never say it.  Instead, I reproduced with someone who did not have me in mind.  What an oxymoron.

You.  What a moron.

I would have thrived there.  Damn them for ever leaving.

Sometimes she wishes I were never born, well, I wish I were never born either, not here anyway.  This is not home.

I want to go home.  I wish I was born in my home. 

Mr. Howard

[But the 37-year-old insists there is a big romance story in his life — he’s trying to reconcile with his estranged wife, Lori, with whom he has three kids.

The pair wed in 1989 but have had a turbulent marriage.

Howard adds, “I’m still married. I’m still trying to get my wife back.

“I’m always gonna … ’til she puts the last nail in that coffin, and I’m hoping she don’t. (She) filed for divorce but I’m still trying to campaign. My three kids are campaigning for me, too.

“They’ll make sure that anybody who comes sniffing around gets a bloody nose.” ]



And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the great Terrence Howard.

Sure, that man could be out there, with plenty of money, banging a swath through loose hollywood vaginas, but what is he doing?  He is trying to save his marriage, and making sure his kids know that even though daddy is a hotshot, he loves their mommy and that his marriage and his children are first priority.

Not only that, he is advocating violence from his children to drive away potential homewreckers. That is brilliant, ballsy, and beautiful.

In a world full of horrible tabloid stories, this one has surprisingly been absent from supermarket news stands, why?  Simple, because it is about a decent human being, just trying to do the right thing.

I have gone so far as to draft a letter to Mr. Howard wishing him luck.  I hope for his sake that he married a woman who understands the concept of marriage the way he does, and who has enough self respect to put her commitments and children first.

I have always liked him in the movies, especially since he has a wonderful underdog story.  And I feel he is a terrific actor. 

But now, I have a newfound respect for him, this time as a man.

It is hard for any man to put away our dignity, and self-respect to publicly admit one is trying to work out a relationship.  But for a man of his prominance to pine for his wife of over ten years, is incredible, and rarely seen these days.  Especially in tinseltown.

For my male readers.  Imagine being him for a moment, and the amount of poontang you can command at any time.  And yet, it is his wife he wants.

This is the kind of story that makes me think maybe marriage isn’t the load of crap it turned out to be for me.

I don’t know you Lori, but wake up.  I do, means I do.  Forever.  He may be a husla’ baby, but he is your husband, and he obviously loves you. 

I hope this has a happy ending.


Live it, Love it, (honor it)


Class Discussion.

(Class discussions make me think.  This is not always a good thing.  enjoy!) 

Brad has been dating Angela for going on five years now.  They both have busy schedules, so this leaves little time for them to be together and enjoy each others company.  Yes, things have been going well for this two-some for a good long time now.  Sure they don’t see each other as much as they would like, but the time they spend together is precious to them, and they appreciate every minute.

Ah, but cruel time barrels on, and soon, this little time spent together is not enough, and soon Angela is gone most of the year, and they are spending some weekends and holidays together.  One day, Brad comes home to find Angela sitting on the couch, red-eyed from crying, and his guts clench.  He asks her tentatively what the matter is.

She turns to him, and bursts.  She has been seeing someone else, and not just that, she has developed feelings for this new man.  She thinks she loves him.  Brad quickly asks how that can be, since, she loves him, or so she said countless times.

But they were in love, sweet love, no?

What Brad is about to hear is what most men will hear at some point or another in their lives, and I can guarantee, once you hear it, you will never forget it.

“Brad, its, just that, oh god, I, I love you Brad, but, I’m not IN love with you.”

At this point Brad should scream in her lying face and point out the fact that she could at least have the decency to not provide such a bullshit, copout way of saying the new guy is a) richer b) better looking c) smarter d) hung like a pack mule… etc etc.

But like most men, Brad will slink away to cry into his many pints of lager, wondering what he did wrong.

No Brad, no men of the world, you have done nothing.  Nothing at all. 

A woman will ask a man, “do you love me anymore?”  Most men will either say, yes, or no.  Women on the other hand, have invented this wonderful “nice” way of invalidating everything we have ever been to them.  Lets face it, the end result is not good anyway you say it, but ladies, please,

Cut the bullshit.  “No Brad, I don’t love you.”  There, was that so hard?  Oh sure, you can say, “But Tobas, you horrible misogynist, maybe she does still love Brad, she just doesn’t want to be with him!”

Um, no.  You don’t say something like that to someone you love.  You can be angry, you can want to break up with someone, you could want to kill them.  And yes, you can still be in love with them.

You don’t give that “love” away, not if you are in “love” 

Say it if you mean it.  Otherwise, just shut the fuck up please.

Live it, “Love” it, (and mean it bitch)