Monthly Archives: July 2009

Compulsive Liar? or The Most Interesting Person You’ve Ever Met?

Several months ago I took a wrong turn and ended up behind a local store, where I ran into two kids smoking the largest blunt I had ever seen (broad daylight, by the by).

“Sorry, wrong way!” I said.

“Right way if you want to smoke this with us..”, said kid.

As we smoked and talked, I learned he is the co-owner of the adjacent store. I was looking to quit my job at the time, so I gave him my information and told him to call me if he ever needed another employee.

Fast forward : last night.

I was offered the job, and met up with this same character to “talk business”.  My 6 male housemates gave me a hard time as we waited on our porch for him to pick me up. ::put put put::. Our brows furrowed in confusion and our jaws dropped.  Next thing I know I’m speeding down the narrow and dangerous mountain roads in a bright red 1930s no top no doors Pierce Arrow.  Look it up. Seriously.  I’ve talked to this kid maybe once before in my life, and here I am driving god knows where with god knows who. He pulls into a clearing, I struggle to hop out of this.. contraption, and we perch ourselves on a bench by the river, light up a bowl, and have one of the weirdest conversations I’ve ever had.

They call him Mikey Snacks.  He’s funny, smart, good looking, and even speaks French. Not even out of college yet, aside from owning the store, he works as a promoter and assistant for a prominent commercial photographer, helps run a glass blowing company that makes the “tobacco pipes” they sell in the store, and he also completed culinary school at the age of 20 and moved on to be the sous-chef at not one, but several of the thriving restaurants in town.  He then proceeded to tell me many bewildering stories of his engagement to a model that had him living in San Diego for a short stint, as well as his current girlfriend, and the 4 bands he is apart of, including the different instruments he plays for each of them: guitar, percussion (not drums, percussion), violin, and harmonica.  Then, he noticed the field of wheat beyond the river, and explained step by step how to harvest it by hand.  I shit you not. Stoned, I could hardly keep up with the conversation.  It was one of those defining moments you realize you are devastatingly boring.  When it was my turn to talk about myself, I wanted to cry.  Usually, I shine in situations like this.  I am a natural charmer.

What was I supposed to say?  “Well, when I’m bored, I eat yo-crunch and watch the food network”?

As heartbreaking it was to dawn upon this depressing notion that I suck, he was extremely like-able and genuine, which, naturally, infuriated me.  The answer, then of course, is simple. I was, until this point, under the impression that working and going to school full time while maintaining an impressive social life was enough to show for myself.  But I was wrong. I must master all that is to be mastered.  If Mikey Snacks can accomplish, well, everything, then so can I.  On the other hand, there is the possibility that Mikey Snacks is full of shit because he is a) a compulsive liar or b) trying to get in my pants or c) both. This is far easier to accept and personally I like my comfy life without having to feel like a useless waste of flesh.  I simply do not have the time nor the connections to inherit a trust fund or whatever Snacks did to become so cool.  I must remind myself that skepticism is the way to approach people that make you question your worth.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I must find out where the nearest culinary school is and how to sign up.

Just a brain fart…but I did just have a title in mind

Beer: 0 Scotch: 7 (Don’t be jealous, there’s nothing to be envious about…bwahahahaha, I’m just fuckin with ya)

In all seriousness, a guy who my friends and I all regard as “The Mayor”, just lost his #1 voter.  I learned of this last Friday.  He’s a great guy and so much more. I cannot even find the words to describe this; and I’ve been through it! Conversely, he, and his brothers, #1 voter was happy to have 3 Mayors in her life. So I was not shocked to find his voicemail box full by the time I called him: Z100 would have had a tough time filling their queue in a fraction of the time.

I’ve been silent lately due to rogue Chinese activity (BTW, thanks for monetizing my $40,000 pay raise. I love it when you retards give me a challenge, it’s like instant lottery). Anyway the event in the first paragraph makes me realize how important it is to appreciate and value genuine friends.  People that will not lie to you because they feel ashamed: *cough*leaving for Ca. 2 weeks ago and faking being somewhere else*cough* , but you can accept them, and love them for who they are.  I mention this because I just had an awkward date that I don’t think gets this, but it was at my expense. In hind-sight it was pretty funny,  and CH3CH2OH has a way of making me see the humor in some really awkward situations. This brings me to my date Friday. The day a good friend of mine experienced a tragedy.

I would have to say the only good thing to come that day (07/24/2009) was that, I helped my parents solidify their dreams. Everything else was a nightmare:

1. I heard that a beautiful person is no longer around to share a good time with.

2. I got an email from an estranged individual telling me something I already knew happened 2 weeks prior (hacking works).

3. I have some horrible friends that really could give a fuck-all about me.

4. I dated a girl that really could give a fuck-all about the tosspot you are all reading about.

By now you can guess why I have no meaningful title to this post.  The title was there, and left, just seemingly as this conversation. But there is a reason.  Sadly it was #4 in my list above. I’ve called one lady in my life “Bitch”, this girl deserves the second title after I told my mom how horribly wrong this date went.  I don’t think this girl was a bitch, but I’ve been treated worse, so without further ado…The reason for my forgetful title.

I left my rents place to meet this Jewish chick (I say “chick” meaningfully) I’ve been talking with.  Her favorite color is purple, so I pulled an old-fashioned move and brought her some flowers.  I can’t really go into details (I’m lying, I’m too drunk/lazy) as to why this date went South, but she mysteriously had friends appear at the bar that she had not “seen” since junior high. She grew up in the Bronx.  This was insulting.  Normally, I take this opportunity to just really ruin ego’s, but instead. I was Marvin Gaye: I played the fool.  I did it knowingly. I was trying to be polite, and the more I was, the more this chick dug in.  It is my biggest regret this year.  I should have brought to her attention her poor taste, class and lack of character.  Instead, I met her “surprise” friends and watched her skip away.  I took a last sip of my beer, looking down noticing she left the purple flowers I had brought her as well. I don’t hold grudges, but…there’s a big “but” here,  I demand respect.

So to Ms. Jewy-loser, I know you work for a non-profit art business that tries to raise money for  whatever endeavour it is that you command a paycheck.  You just happened to blow off one of your best potential customer(s).

This all brings me back to why I need to value my friends that I find genuine.  You all need to do it too.  They do not come along often, and while they do get lost *cough*getthefuckouttacalifornia*cough*, you should value them.  I find I value people the most who have the least to offer.  And for that, I am a grateful, drunken, fuck.

HoTW.

I had resolved to let my earlier post (see below) marinate for a day or two.  However, after clicking on CNN.com before bed, I had no choice but to post this weeks, HoTW!

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“At Camp Twitch and Shout, Tourette kids can be themselves”

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Camp Twitch, and Shout.  This is for real.  I must go to Camp Twitch and Shout.

Camp fucking Twitch, and Shout.

Jesus.

A Certain Shade of Green.

I briefly roamed the byways of You Tube* this evening and happened to come across a trailer for the upcoming film, 2012.  It appears to be a sequel of sorts.  There was Independence Day, Armageddon, Meteor, The Day After Tomorrow, and so on.  I suppose we could title this one,

“Armageddon comes Independently the Day after Tomorrow in 2012…because of a Meteor”

In short, John Cusack, Amanda Peet, and a few holly-brats manage to evade impending doom several times while billions around them die in spectacular, over-the-top cataclysmic disasters.

This is the fiction.  The reality is sadder I think.

There is a surprising amount of people that firmly believe either the above scenario will occur in 2012, or something similar.

Really people?….  “but, but, it’s the end of the Mayan calendar!  they plotted the stars, and were very sophisticated astronomers, they could telllll the futureeeee…..!!!”

Listen my friends.  It’s all well and good to wax nostalgic about mystical days of old, when puma-face the shaman could blow smoke up his peoples asses, but still?  One thing I’ve learned so far walking on this mud-ball is that being a successful charlatan is virtually effortless.  People are all too willing to believe pretty much whatever nonsense you feed them so long as they feel “in on it”.  In the next couple of years expect apocalypse books, movies, and related quasi-spiritual quackery to boom.

You want prophecy?  There you go.

Lucky for all those Mensa candidates snapping up their copies of “Left Behind Book 50”, they will now be secure in the knowledge that should an “end of the world” conversation arise while amongst friends, they will know what is ACTUALLY going to happen.  You know, as opposed to everyone else.

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Those Mayan folk were really something.  They built those big-ass rock piles with steps designed to ensure that blood sacrifice will continue, one way or another.  They plotted stars, made calendars, built roads….etc. etc.

Then one fine day, some dude in a pointy hat with fifty other dudes and some horses sailed on in.  Granted, he had some rifles, and smallpox, but still.

The Mayans had thousands, and thousands of whooping savages with axes and what-not.  Still, pointy hat and a dozen horses spelled the end for that entire CIVILIZATION.  This is somewhat like the scene in the Princess Bride where a weakened Wesley and Inigo pushed a flaming Andre the Giant in a cart.  The sixty soldiers at the gate ran screaming.  Why?  Because they were superstitious idiots.

Okay…follow the logic here….if the soldiers ran because they were weak-minded superstitious idiots, then the Mayans got served in similar fashion because….

Right, so lets all follow the Mayan calendar, which may, or may not say the end of the world is in 2012!  As if Mayans had any fucking clue about the Roman Calendar, or the revised Roman Calendar…oh, wait, maybe they meant the one revised after that one…or perhaps the Orthodox….

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Until the next doomsday date starts making the rounds…

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Live it, Love it (ignore it.)

~T

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*(I also watched a trailer for Zombieland, and holy crap that looks cool.  Best role I’ve ever seen Woody take.  Natural Born what..?)

QoTW

This weeks QoTW comes from a book titled, “Theories of Everything” written by John D. Barrow.  He begins most chapter sections with quotes designed to give the reader an idea of where he is going next.  Fair warning, should you be curious and pick this book up, prepare to have your brain stretched and beaten like fresh taffy.

The quote comes from none other than Albert Einstein, who reminds us that although people develop differently, no way is superior.

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“I sometimes ask myself how it came about that I was the one to develop the theory of relativity.  The reason, I think, is that a normal adult never stops to think about problems of space and time.  These are the things he has thought of as a child.  But my intellectual development was retarded, as a result of which I began to wonder about space and time only when I had already grown up.”

– Albert Einstein

Little people, Big laughs.

(Okay, while I work on some new stuff, here’s a fine “little” entry from the good old myspace archives.  I’m sure many of you have heard of the recent movement to ban the word “midget” to refer to, well, fucking midgets.  It is with that movement in mind that I re-post this homage to the classic TLC reality series, Little people, Big world.  er…is “fidget” still okay?)

 

 

Oct 17, 2006

 

 

I can’t help it, I really can’t.

I watch TLC, and all of the sudden, that show comes on.  That show with the fucking midgets.  Little people, Big world.

I know it’s wrong, I know it.  But god damn it, watching those little creatures hobbit around is just too much.  I find myself giggling constantly, and I watch the two brothers, one a midg’, and the other normal sized, and christ, that poor little bastard must hate god with a vengeance.

Yes, I can hear the goody two shoes among you now, oh, but look at that courage!  Look at the strength in their little bodies!

As for me,

I happen to think our good Lord, in his infinite wisdom, placed these small people with their large deformed heads on this earth purely for the enjoyment of others.  I believe an executive at TLC was contacted by the almighty Hebrew god, and commanded to create a show so that we may enjoy a hearty chuckle as we gobble down spoonfuls of edys brand nestle toll house cookie chunk ice cream.

I admit I could be wrong, but I doubt it.

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(Someone make sure to toss sunscreen in my casket.  SPF…4000 or so?..)

You lie a lot, don’t you?

I would just like to take a moment to welcome some new readerssubscribers, and to formally introduce Sam.

As you can see below, the girl can sure put them words together all purty-like.

And, as you also can see, it seems to be a rule of thumb that in order to contribute to TWYL, you must be a dram of beefeater away from alcohol poisoning.

So, to the n00bs, scroll up and down, flip the pages, etc.  or, just go to the sidebar and click a category for instant access to posts filed in whatever vein suits you.  There is also a nifty little search bar smack in the middle.  Ever wonder what I think about the taste of urine?  Simply type urine, hit search, and wonder no more! (actually I don’t think I ever wrote about the taste of urine, but I can never be completely sure about these things).

We growin’ like the tomato plants in vincenzos garden.

(you puu-ta da beeer ein de deesh, eh-slug, die, die, die)

Hello.

“I hope your deer wife finds you dead and dies of a broken heart and I hope your deer children starve to death, you broke my mirror, you faggot cunt nigger deer.” – Louis Ck.

Wish I had a subtle way like Boone to insinuate that I am drunk without having to obviously announce it.

Beer count: 10

Makes a much better first impression than “I’m fucking drunk.”After all my years of adolescent blogging, I have absolutely no idea how I could contribute anything of worth to this. What to possibly write about. Every droll observation I have ever conjured up has been written down somewhere else.  I have nothing left to say. I’m old news, out of gas.

Washed up.  Kaput. The well is dry.  The jig?  Up.

The music?  Faced.

Being full of beer and running on little to no sleep doesn’t help in trying to get a second literary wind.  I feel like I’m practically huffing paint fumes, because I have yet to finish painting my room white because I live in the dark as shit basement. Don’t get me wrong, I love the whole upstate house thing, but if I had to be surrounded by dark red walls with no windows for any longer I was surely going to hang myself.  I live in the absolute forest now compared to the next to queens suburbia I am used to.  Today for instance, I hit a deer.  Really. I did.   A fucking baby deer. I was driving to my boss’ house the next town over, and I was whipping around a corner blasting that “I wanna fuck you like an animal”  NIN song and next thing I know a deer jumps out of nowhere in front of my car. That whole “deer in headlights” thing is bullshit by the way, cause here I was thinking, fuck, it’s gunna do that thing, but it saw me, freaked out and practically leapt out of the way immediately.  Unfortunately for Bambi, it’s attempted escape was no match for my Oldsmobile Cutlass and crack! goes a leg.   Maybe a rib or two. I yelled just about every curse word I knew and stopped, of course, but nothing could be done; there it went, doing a sensational ollie over a tree and dragging itself into the woods until I assume it took a nice rest in a patch of grass somewhere..  After that it seemed like every fucking forest creature was attacking my car on the drive home.  Rabbits, chipmunks, you name it; it’s like they knew a deer was chilling by my car and they wanted to see what’s up.

You know those little bloody furry piles of mess you see on the side of the street sometimes and your heart drops a little?  I’m responsible for at least 3 of those today.  Anyway, as I said, I have nothing to say.

Houston, we have a PROBLEM.

Today is the 40th anniversary of man-kind reaching the surface of the moon.  NASA released footage of the moon landing, but had to use copies and CBS archive video because the originals were copied over at some point in the 80’s.

Right, so they had some Australian company check out the footage they could compile and digitally re-master it.  Now everyone can just click and see nice and smoothed out moon-landing video.  NASA and the video company both agreed that had they still had the originals, they really could have done some amazing stuff.  But, sadly, the originals were copied over.

I mean, the footage looks great, nice and re-mastered.  Too bad those originals were…copied over?

THE ORIGINALS WERE COPIED OVER….!!??!

The most IMPORTANT event in human fucking HISTORY.

NO ONE kept track of the footage from the most IMPORTANT event in human fucking HISTORY.

They can pull out a big ol’ original reel showing JFK’s head reaching supernova, but the reel of the most IMPORTANT…

you get the picture.

Can we get something a little better than, “whoops!”, fellas?

“Um, here at NASA, we don’t believe in labeling things.  We also can’t afford to do something silly like buying new reels, or, switching to more modern and readily available formats!  Why of course we would continue using the same recording equipment from the 60’s in the 80’s!  Having state of the art equipment is like, for government funded agencies and stuff….oh….”

Guys?  Anything?  C’mon, give me something so I don’t have to start buying into conspiracy theories hatched by the same folk who believe in, “the hidden lizard people”!

Lucky for NASA, I took the time to investigate some old archives myself and unearthed actual footage of the original moon-landing reel being erased.  It’s top-secret of course, but I will transcribe the dialogue for my readers.  (Exclusive! booyaka!)

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NASA Headquarters.
Washington D.C.
1982.

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(Two men in blue body-length outfits sit by a machine and a stack of what appears to be round metal canisters)

Man 1: Yo Bob, pass me the next Bumblebee.

Man 2 (Bob): Why the hell do you call these things Bumblebees anyway, it’s stupid, just say reel canister.

Man 1: It looks like a can of tuna fish, and I’m high as a muther-fucker, you got some ill sticky this week my man.

Bob: Hell yea, hey…shouldn’t we be reading these things before we toss them in the “copy over” bin?

Man 1: Well, yeahh man, we should also probably be watching the shit I’m playing on the wall over here too…

(Both men giggle for ten minutes, Man 1 eventually places another reel into the machine)

Bob: Whoa shit man, coooool, what does that tuna say on it?

(More giggling)

Man 1: Ummm, original moon landing footage, dunno man, the rest is kinda smudged, or something.

Bob: Lemme see.

(Bob peers closely at the canister)

Bob: OOOH, I gooot it man.  It says, original moon landing footage: donut? copy over.  Like, like, a donut, you know? It’s like a spare, so like, it’s cool, toss it in, jive turkey!

Man 1: Who you callin’ jive turkey?

(The men begin to playfully scuffle and eventually collapse giggling amidst a pile of strewn reel canisters.  Meanwhile, Neil Armstrong waves to them from the wall, and they both wave back, cheering wildly)

-TAPE END-

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So there you have it.  Shortly after this information was unearthed, NASA formally instituted a pee test during the hiring process.  Consider the Mars rover footage safe and sound.

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Live it, Love it (bullshit.)

~T

I put on my robe and…

And now dear readers, I present to you the two funniest exchanges in the history of internet chat.  This was originally pulled from an IRC chat room, and posted on Bash.org.  Bash has a large database of many inane and funny conversations pulled from chat rooms, however, this one is the gold standard as far as I’m concerned.  Am I concerned about re-posting content from another website?  Well no, because first off, this was ripped from somewhere else as well, and secondly, I’m giving them credit and a plug anyway.  So alright, here we go,

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Part I

bloodninja: Baby, I been havin a tough night so treat me nice aight?
BritneySpears14: Aight.
bloodninja: Slip out of those pants baby, yeah.
BritneySpears14: I slip out of my pants, just for you, bloodninja.
bloodninja: Oh yeah, aight. Aight, I put on my robe and wizard hat.
BritneySpears14: Oh, I like to play dress up.
bloodninja: Me too baby.
BritneySpears14: I kiss you softly on your chest.
bloodninja: I cast Lvl. 3 Eroticism. You turn into a real beautiful woman.
BritneySpears14: Hey…
bloodninja: I meditate to regain my mana, before casting Lvl. 8 chicken of the Infinite.
BritneySpears14: Funny I still don’t see it.
bloodninja: I spend my mana reserves to cast Mighty F*ck of the Beyondness.
BritneySpears14: You are the worst cyber partner ever. This is ridiculous.
bloodninja: Don’t f*ck with me bitch, I’m the mightiest sorcerer of the lands.
bloodninja: I steal yo soul and cast Lightning Lvl. 1,000,000 Your body explodes into a fine bloody mist, because you are only a Lvl. 2 Druid.
BritneySpears14: Don’t ever message me again you piece of ****.
bloodninja: Robots are trying to drill my brain but my lightning shield inflicts DOA attack, leaving the robots as flaming piles of metal.
bloodninja: King Arthur congratulates me for destroying Dr. Robotnik’s evil army of Robot Socialist Republics. The cold war ends. Reagan steals my accomplishments and makes like it was cause of him.
bloodninja: You still there baby? I think it’s getting hard now.
bloodninja: Baby?

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Part II

BritneySpears14: Ok, are you ready?
eminemBNJA: Aight, yeah I’m ready.
BritneySpears14: I like your music Em… Tee hee.
eminemBNJA: huh huh, yeah, I make it for the ladies.
BritneySpears14: Mmm, we like it a lot. Let me show you.
BritneySpears14: I take off your pants, slowly, and massage your muscular physique.
eminemBNJA: Oh I like that Baby. I put on my robe and wizard hat.
BritneySpears14: What the f*ck, I told you not to message me again.
eminemBNJA: Oh ****
BritneySpears14: I swear if you do it one more time I’m gonna report your ISP and say you were sending me kiddie porn you f*ck up.
eminemBNJA: Oh ****
eminemBNJA: damn I gotta write down your names or something

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I love this guy.