“I love, love, love Swedish Fish. I don’t like coffee or mushrooms. I once broke my collarbone in a Jeep that rolled. I might try a cigarette if I knew how to smoke. My mom is brilliant and can so out-cook your mom. I have never met my father, but I did see a photograph of his twin brother. I iron at least 5 days a week. I’m serious about it, too – distilled water only and heavy on the starch. I miss Eddie. I’ve an affection for hats and jammies. Scarves are real nice. I’m a private person. And am quite shy… until I warm up to you naturally over time or drink enough. I’ll have what’s recommended. I hate scary movies, but love to watch them. I buy myself fresh flowers. I went to the theater alone once and I’d do it again. Poetry and abstract art mostly frustrates me. I like to draw drawings.”

SUBTEXT:

I love, love, love Swedish Fish.

I love alliterating the same word.

I don’t like coffee or mushrooms.
I don’t like adult food.

I once broke my collarbone in a Jeep that rolled.
Never get in a vehicle that has taken ecstasy.

I might try a cigarette if I knew how to smoke.
I’m easily manipulated.

My mom is brilliant and can so out-cook your mom. I have never met my father, but I did see a photograph of his twin brother.
My Dad found someone who could outcook my Mom.

I iron at least 5 days a week. I’m serious about it, too – distilled water only and heavy on the starch.
I live in the year 1872.

I miss Eddie.
Eddie knew how to fucking iron.

I’ve an affection for hats and jammies. Scarves are real nice.
I have a bad habit of proclaiming my love for inanimate items.

I’m a private person. And am quite shy… until I warm up to you naturally over time or drink enough.
Don’t think about getting to “first base” if I’m sober, but if you get me wasted I’ll blow you in the “locker room”.

I’ll have what’s recommended.
Most guys recommend roofies.

I hate scary movies, but love to watch them.
I don’t like abusive guys, unless they tell me that they love me.

I buy myself fresh flowers. I went to the theater alone once and I’d do it again.
(See the “scary movie” comments)

Poetry and abstract art mostly frustrates me. I like to draw drawings.
I love to art art and write writings.

I feel doctors should rename CFS

chronic fatigue syndrome

n. (Abbr. CFS)

A syndrome characterized by debilitating fatigue and a combination of flulike symptoms such as sore throat, swollen lymph glands, low-grade fever, headaches, and muscle pain or weakness. Also called chronic fatigue immune dysfunction syndrome.

They should call it CCFS or Convenient Chronic Fatigue Syndrome because they only get tired when its convenient for them…like a job. Or perhaps they should just call it LAZY which doesn’t stand for any thing they’re just lazy.

I’m so glad it’s hot again. Not because I especially like sweating, I like when it gets warmer because people who claim to be “suffering” from SAD aren’t whining as much.

seasonal affective disorder
n. (Abbr. SAD)
A form of depression occurring at certain seasons of the year, especially when the individual has less exposure to sunlight.

“It’s sooo cold and I’m sooo sad…blah, blah, blah (boo hoo)”

If they’re so sad because they need sunshine, why don’t they move down south or buy a fucking heat lamp. Of course they’re sad, their doctor tells them, “You have SAD.” They tell all their friends, “I have SAD.” They’re going to be fucking sad. The logical solution to the problem is to rename the “disorder” HAPPY which would be the acronym for Hypochondriacs are Perpetually Pathetic, Yes?

We are the only animals on the planet that celebrate it. It’s just an arbitrary point in space that we’ve invented. All we do is get drunk every time we go around the Sun.
Weeee! (one year lapses)
Yaaaay!! (365.25 days later)
Happy New Year!!!

We are eternally trapped in this boring cycle. Fuck that. I know that not everyone hates New Year’s like I do, and I can only encourage them to do one thing: Leave Earth and move to Mercury because they have a New Year’s party every 88 days.

Ain’t no party like a Mercury party because a Mercury party don’t stop.

A lot of sex happens on Mercury. They should rename the planet Herpes, the Greek god of STDs.

The only planet that should be able to celebrate New Year’s is Pluto (especially now that its been downgraded to an ice chunk. How humiliating?). The reason I say the citizens of Pluto deserve a party is because they have a New Year’s every 250 years. When it does happen they don’t even know what to do. They have to read it in their Plutonian bibles.

Ezhekial 3:17

And the Lord mixed margaritas.

Imagine the mayhem that would ensue as the ball dropped. Plutonians would come out of their houses and stick syringes of heroin in their eyes and have sex with parakeets screaming, “Happy New Year!” Now thats a DVD I would buy. It would make the backstage of Motely Crew concert look like the Lilith Fair.

A few things I’ve absorbed from MySpace:

The number of “Friends” in a MySpace profile is a direct correlation to the number of hours logged on to the internet and inversely related to that person’s actual social skill.

The beacon enlightens me how unproductive we humans have become.

When my beacon is on, I feel like Frodo Baggins when he slips on his ring and he becomes visible to the Nazgûl , Wraiths of the Shadow World.

MySpace creator Tom must get laid every day.

The saddest MySpace moment is having an actual physical friend not accept you as a MySpace friend and you receive the message, “You already have a pending friend request for this person.”

To add insult to injury, you see that the motherfucker is and logs in and out everyday.

Friendster is the equivalent of a pager.

I couldn’t sleep last night because of the pain, and was elated to finally fall into slumber at the crack of dawn. Only to be awoken by annoying song birds, a woodpecker drilling another useless hole, a squirrel trying scrape his way through my thru-the-wall air conditioning unit, and little fucking boy hitting a concrete wall with a sledge hammer.

Please free me from my prison.

I was in Miami once and I saw a billboard that claimed, “Everytime you see a bus, you have walked by someone with AIDS.”

I will never become a bus driver.

I graduated from Lee High School in San Antonio, TX.

Lee High School Alma Mater

We all hail† to thee and thy name forever,

Robert E. Lee High;

Your Red and Gray will always wave

As will your banner fly;

Our hearts and loyalty remain forever

In your hallowed halls;

Your majesty will show the way.

There are no other peers

Your fame and glory will not die.

Robert E. Lee throughout the years!

One hundred and twenty six years after the end of the Civil War. During my sophomore year our mascot was downgraded from ‘Rebel’ to ‘Volunteer’. However, the Confederate flag was still our official symbol. Painted and printed on every wall, poster, pom-pom, and on the faces of enthusiastic attendees of pep-rallies. We had three different dance teams: Rebel Rousers, Dixie Drillers, and Confederates. I even had a flag sewn on the front of my Speedos® blasted across my crotch for the swim team and another flag on my skin cap.

My senior year, a small faction of black football players refused to don their jerseys emblazoned with the “Bars and Stripes” on their chest. Other students rallied behind them. Our demographics were divided into four major ethnicities: 60% Hispanic, 29% White, 8% Black, 2% Asian, and Ninook Sealslayer the Eskimo (or Inuit for the PC-people).

The football players who came forward stated that opposing players from the west side all black high schools were hitting them harder and threatening their lives. They were even getting tackled when they were on defense without possession of the ball. Concerned for their safety, they refused to play again until the flag was removed from their uniform.

The Daughters of the Confederacy pleaded to the school board that the flag represented the tradition of the South and paid homage to a great man who attended West Point.

The KKK came and set up camp in the parking lot. Things got heated when they vandalized the church next door. They spray painted a cryptic message, ‘Nigers Go Home’. The church left it up to show their ignorance for the English language.

The students against the flag used the analogy comparing the Confederate flag to the Nazi flag.

They invented this scenario:

Imagine the school was named Erwin Rommel High School in honor of the distinguished German Field Marshal. The mascot was the Desert Fox and the school flag was the very recognizable, satanic red, black and white Nazi flag. Now imagine, you are young 15 year old Jewish boy named Ned Finklestein forced to play defensive end with a swastika on your chest. What do you think would happen to Ned?

First of all, fuck the Confederacy, fuck the KKK, and fuck Bobby Lee!

I can’t connect with this analogy. Jews aren’t renowned as football players. Football owners but not football players. Ned’s father would had made a few phone calls to the superintendent and the board of trustees and gotten the name changed. Done and done.

Perhaps, if they had invented Antonio López de Santa Anna High School and had me imagine how it would feel to be a 15 year old redneck named Tex Alamo with a Mexican flag on your jersey and you had to play against David Crockett High School.

Now that’s something I could imagine.

Jeez, that’s horrible.

If you don’t believe me?

Read a forum I created on MySpace with Robert E. Lee alumni about the “KKK Incident”

Click here

† I always felt comfortable “hailing” to a Confederate flag

I was at my Jamaican friend’s house and his five year old daughter Cheyenne asked me bluntly, “Why are you so white?”

At first it seemed like an easy question but I quickly realized that I didn’t have an answer and said, “I don’t know.”

To which she replied, “Do you lotion?”

I then said, “No.”

She rolled her eyes knowingly and said, “You should. Mommy puts lotion on me when my elbows get white.”

I nodded and said, “Thanks. Looks like I got a big job ahead of me.”

Some people claim that animals do not have feelings or emotions. With that said, I was surprised to see a group of pigeons mourning the death of an avian comrade. I’m normally apathetic to the plight of the bird nicknamed, “Rat With Wings”. Although, this very somber scene tugged on my heart strings and I got a little emotional. It was obvious that one pigeon (probably his wife or God forbid his mother) at this impromptu “funeral” was deeply affected. She seemed to be grieving and giving the eulogy. I didn’t want to intrude and disturb their holy moment. However, I wanted to get closer and pay my respects. Unfortunately, I realized that they weren’t “mourning”. They were eating him. A unexpected Thanksgiving celebration. Those dirty, little, heartless bastards. If you ever encounter anyone who lacks emotion, labeling them cold-hearted would not be sufficient. Be more specific.
“You sir, have the ruthless heart of a pigeon!”

I don’t understand how people can narrow down all the important variables in a candidate into one particular issue. The single-narrow mindedness is maddening. There are a plethora of reasons to despise a politician. i.e…perpetuating the oppression of Cubans through our ridiculous embargo, non-involvement in Sudan, not being proactive in dispensing generic drugs to fight HIV in South Africa, not focusing on alternative energy sources like geothermal, tidal, or biomass fuel technology…and a hundred thousand other problems that need to be addressed.

Most jackasses can determine whom they will vote for simply by labeling the individual, “Pro-Life” or “Pro-Choice”. I’m not dismissing abortion as an insignificant matter. Personally, I’m not a big fan of it. However, that only pertains to the one I’m involved with and myself. I couldn’t care less what other individuals do. Does that make me an apathetic dick? Who knows?

Pro-Lifers say that every life is precious, and that you could be killing the next Mozart, Einstein, or Mother Teresa.

I see it differently.

Imagine if Mr. and Mrs. Hutt † had decided Planned Parenthood would have been a better choice instead giving life to their child. If they would have done that, the citizens of the desert planet of Tatooine wouldn’t have had to live their entire lives in fear because of one bloated, slug lord named Jabba. Obviously, he terrorized others because he was projecting his own insecurities caused by feelings of abandonment from his shitty parents. In addition, his self-esteem was non-existent due to his ongoing battle with his weight problem. Four bags of frogs and a couple of Jawas for lunch can’t be healthy. Jabba the Hutt’s life is precious?! He should have been aborted.

Granted, the original scene at Mos Eisley Cantina, where Han Solo blasted the bounty hunter, Greedo ‡, who was trying to collect♠ for the Abortion-Survivor, wouldn’t have taken place. Consequently, Luke and Obi-Wan wouldn’t have escaped on the Millennium Falcon which would have triggered a Butterfly Effect and the Death Star could still be fully operational to this day. However, that conflicts with my original hypothesis of killing Jabba at birth. Perhaps, Darth Vader should have been aborted. Unfortunately, Mr. Vader was formerly known as Anakin Skywalker. Which would have deleted Luke from the equation and he wouldn’t been able to fire his Proton Torpedoes down the exhaust shafts of the aforementioned Weapon of Mass Destruction. Quite the conundrum. In conclusion, I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about.

I’m subscribed to Kayak.com for travel deals. Normally, I get emails that tell me when flights to Orlando dip down below $150 or if there are any spectacular packages to London but today I got this treat: “Night Border Crossing Experience”.

Your ‘coyote’ guide, Pancho, pulls off his black ski mask while actors gather around to scare you senseless along the way…make your way through barbed-wire fences. Survivors are blindfolded…

Wow. What a steal. Only eighteen dollars.

Read more about it here or if you dying to find out what it feels like. Here’s where you can make it happen.

Now I want to go to the ‘Two Nights in Ole Nanking‘, ‘Flight From Mount Vesuvius Adventure‘, or ‘Dachau Day Trip‘.

I probably won’t be able to do the “Dachau Day Trip” since the dollar is so weak to the euro. Hopefully, the $600 rebate in June will fix everything.

Whenever, I surface from the subways, and confidently head in one direction on an avenue. Inevitably, someone walking beside will notice my keen navigational skill and will ask me, “Are we going up or down?”

I have two responses:

1. “Actually we are going horizontal. Our vertical displacement is zero. What are you stupid?” Then I glare at the person angrily, shake my head, and storm off.

2. “I don’t know—I’m agnostic, I guess it depends how you’ve lived your life and what you believe in.” Then I slowly look up and stare at the sky until it gets awkward. Unless she’s really hot, then I cut the corny shenanigans.

“I have a golden retriever named Angel who, to me, really is made of gold. Angel and I live together like sisters in an amparment that only I pay for. I am a model who doesn’t believe that beauty can be seen by one’s eyes. I think it is possible that even a blind person can say someone is beautifl and not be copying another. I am currently dating another model, Tony. We have a relationship I am so joyous to be part of. He is making plans to move in. we have alot in common. We both believe in inner beauty more than outter and have dogs. That’s how we met. I was taking Angel for a walk in the park and his male golden retriever ran up to Angel. It was love at first sniff to them…And love at first sight for us.”

Really digest every line. I’ll dissect it tomorrow. Enjoy!

Big fucking deal, my great-great-great-Uncle Angelo invented rice.

Do you know how much residuals he gets just from Chinatown?

He makes Bill Gates look like white trash.

Beat that bitch!

I was watching an old episode of Miami Vice and I realized the biggest thing that I miss from the 80′s are hookers.

Damn that Giuliani!

I’m guessing THE PRINCE’s “hit me back” is implying: Since he feels it’s perfectly normal to hit a women if she gets out of line then she should feel free to “hit him back” if he does the same. He’s no hypocrite (respect).

Now the Sultan comment was much harder to unravel. At first glance I assumed that “LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL” was an exaggerated form of “Laugh Out Loud” because I know LOOL is “Laughing Outrageously Out Loud”. But then I realized that the Sultan wanted to emphasize the letter “O” because it actually represents the word “oligophrenia” which means “feeble-mindedness”. And ironically pluralizing the word “day” as “day’s”…a stroke of genius.

Touché, Sultan, touché or shall we say douché, douché?

I Googled the word “LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL” and got this feeble-minded racist forum:

Here’s the link

Raised as fat, capitalistic pigs with intrinsic senses of entitlement, we forget that our problems are insignificant when compared to other citizens of this planet.

I was at LaGuardia Airport last week during the blackout and overheard a hysterical woman speaking to a reporter amongst crying babies and other stranded passengers tearfully cry out, “It’s like a Third World nation!”

Really?

A Third World nation.

Like Darfur? That kind of Third World nation?

Hmmm…funny I didn’t realize that LaGuardia was that bad off. I was under the impression that once the power came back on, everyone would be able to fly down to see Mickey Mouse in an air conditioned airplane. That doesn’t sound so horrible.

Recently, I was walking home late at night and heard a couple fighting. The man was enraged and was screaming, “I can’t believe you slept with him!”

In their world, her act of infidelity created a nuclear holocaust. I wanted to empathize with the husband but in relation to the grand scale of the universe—Who cares if she slept with another man? So her molecules interacted with another set of molecules instead of his molecules. So what.

I looked up at the sky and looked at the stars. Since I live in Queens, I couldn’t see that many because of the city lights. I reached into my head and remembered how many stars I use to see at night when I grew up in Texas. It seemed like a million holes of light seeping through but in reality a human can only view about 6,000 stars with the naked eye under perfect conditions.

We are but a speck of dust in the outer fringes of the Milky Way Galaxy that is but a grain of sand in the observable Universe.

Sagan claimed that there are billions of billions of stars in our Universe. Each star possibly sustaining several planets, one of which that may contain life. Our world has six billion human beings. So feasibly, each star could create six billion intelligent creatures.

With that said, will the Universe suffer if one individual cheats on another individual? I imagined another couple on the opposite end of the Universe.

(Sirens are screaming at ear-piercing level. People are stampeding by with no sense of direction. A digital marquee sign showing the temperature at 145 degrees.)

MAN:
I can’t believe you slept with him?

WOMAN:
Are you kidding me?

MAN:
What you mean?

WOMAN:
The Sun is about to explode and you are going to bring that up AGAIN??

MAN:
Yeah, I’m going to bring it up.I don’t give a damn if the Sun is going to blow up.

WOMAN:
You are pathetic! It was two years ago. When are you going to stop punishing me? We are going to die! He’s going to die!

MAN:
Was he bigger than me?

WOMAN:
You’re an idiot! We are going to die! He’s going to die! Who cares if he was bigger!

MAN:
HA! So he was bigger, I knew you it! You are such a slu…
(Sun explodes.)

Two of my many Orthorexic dietary restrictions are:
limit my dairy and saturated fat intake.

Unfortunately, my unnatural, affinity for Ben & Jerry’s™ Chunky Monkey© ice cream makes those rules obsolete as the enforcement of the law forbidding jaywalking.

How do I justify my addiction?

The Ben & Jerry’s™ corporation is an environmentally conscience company concerned about minimizing any negative impact on our future society and environment: employee healthcare, urban youth development, its stance on BGH hormones in cows, and recyclable paper products.

They make me feel like I’m saving the planet—one pint at a time.

What are the ingredients in my beloved Chunky Monkey©?

Pure and simple:
Cream, Skim Milk, Liquid Sugar, Water, Sugar, Walnuts, Bananas, Egg Yolks, Coconut Oil, Cocoa, Concentrated Lemon Juice, Guar Gum, Natural Flavors, Milkfat, Soya Lecithin, Carrageenan

The cream and milk are fortified with vitamin D from a loving cow, the spring water is purified, the sugar is from raw sugar canes, the bananas are organic and crammed with potassium, protein-packed walnuts, and the the endorphin-inducing calcium chunks of all-natural milk chocolate are blended together into a frosty, mouth-savoring, bowl of nutritious delight.

Unfortunately, this “green”, organic, eco-friendly exterior is hiding a “black”, crude, glutton-making interior.

Each pint contains 1,200 calories and 40 grams of saturated fat, the equivalent of 32 slices of bacon.

If you ate one pint a day for a year, you would consume 500,393 calories or 3,336 hot dogs.

Theoretically, there are four servings in one pint. Yeah, fucking right! It is aptly named, Chunky Monkey©. I’ve got a sweet monkey on my back that I can’t shake.

At least, heroine is illegal. I can buy my drug at a Texaco and eat it while I’m driving.

And let’s not forget to mention the ozone-depleting methane produced by the thousands of cows needed, which leads to global warming.

Let’s hope that Mad Cow Disease doesn’t ever attack Ben & Jerry’s™ supply. Chubby insurgents will invade Canada’s dairy farms for uncontaminated milk. Deplete their stocks and ravenously scour the Earth for untainted cows. The bovine elixir will become the catalyst for World War III.

Ben & Jerry’s™ can take their “Save the Planet” motto and shove it up their drug-dealing, capitalistic asses.

If you flew to Tokyo, and were to ask any Japanese citizen walking on the street, “What country do you live in?”

That person would say without hesitation, “Nippon.”

This would be very awkward, since you would then have to politely correct them and inform them that they live in Japan not in the Make-Believe Land of “Nippon”.

Who is right?

We have Westernized the name of every country we have encountered.

Hindustan ceases to exist and is called India.
Deutchland is forgotten and is now dubbed Germany.
Italia turns to Italy, Spain replaces España,…etc

Criticizing American’s globalization and smothering domination has become far too easy. It isn’t edgy anymore. Its the norm. Though in this particular case, we are not alone.

Spanish people call Germany, Alemania. The French say l’Allemagne and Italians insist its la Germania.

Fortunately, it is limited to the name of the countries and does not extend to the individual names of the citizens.

In conclusion, humans are fundamentally resistant to adopting and adapting to different cultures. However, we are all carbon-based life forms composed of the same basic molecular structure. The actual quantified DNA difference between any organisms is so infinitesimally small. We should thank God, Allah, David Koresh, or whom ever you choose to believe in for giving us the proper genetic coding to be homo sapiens. We are few deoxyribonucleic acid strands away from being a lemur or a sweet potato.

Furthermore, we can’t even agree on one word to describe the asymetrical ellipsoid in which we live on.

Earth (English)
Mundo (Spanish)
Duniya (Hindi)
Erde (German)
Terra (Italian)

We need to get our heads out of our asses and come up with an international word for our planet or we will become the laughing stock of the United Milky Way Planets Federation.