Wednesday, January 30, 2002

All The Nudes Fit To Prick

Bush Niece Arrested on Drug Charges

The daughter of Florida Governor Jeb Bush, President Bush's younger brother, has been arrested for prescription drug fraud. I guess Dubya's past is sure coming back to bite him in the ass right about now. Jesus, the Bush daughters are starting to make the Kennedys look like the Brady Bunch. But give them a break. They can't help it. They're all named after porno stars, what do you expect?

And how come we never had chicks like that in our school? It's not fair.

Mike Tyson's Fails to Obtain License

As if there was any suspense to this story. That hearing was more even more fixed than a pro wrestling match.

State of The Union

Apparently the term "evil-doers" now also applies to Enron excutives, Lens Crafters, the NFL, Congressional Democrats, and the President's speech therapists. I counted 7 distinct projectiles, and many other non-distinct ones, ejecting from Bush's mouth during the speech.

Man Guns Down Neice

In local news, a man engaging in target practice during a family outing at his ranch (read: sold land, got 2 million dollars, spent it all in 18 months, moved back to government housing way back in the boonies), accidently shot his 7 year old niece in the back of the head with his .22 caliber rifle over the weekend. He was apparently shooting down some beer cans when he forgot that there were kids around. The little girl is still in the hospital, unconcious. Fuckin' retard.

You know, instead of the 7 day waiting period or background checks or anything like that, every person who feels the urge to purchase a weapon should be given an intelligence test right off the bat. If your IQ is lower than a chimpanzee's you don't get the gun. This is gonna be a great boon, since aside from the fact that everyone who possesses a deadly firearm would have enough intelligence to know how to actually use one, but also, it would knock out half the police force in the country. And that would be a good thing.

In related news, relatives are now praying for the girl's recovery. And doctors are now facing massive job cuts due to the epidemic outbreak of recovery prayer. That'll show 'em, those fat, overcharging, pompous bastards, making me wait in the waiting room for 3 hours.

Side Show Freak

When I went to drop my brother off this morning, I saw a student there with the longest hair I’ve ever seen. It was so freaking long that it came down to her ankles. She probably has no problem cleaning after herself, and well if I may add, if she tilted her head back a little bit. I’ve seen and possessed myself some long hair in the past, but this takes the prize. I don’t know how she does it. When my hair was the longest, down to my lower back, it was so fucking annoying washing it, and tying it, and making it go places where hair doesn’t want to go that I finally gave up and cut it. Naturally, it was all frizzy and shit all the time since I didn’t use conditioner. I BE MANLY, and conditioners are for women and queens only, in my opinion. Even now, with my hair shoulder-length, it’s starting to piss me off already, so I’m considering getting a haircut. But this girl’s hair probably hasn’t seen a pair of scissors since she came out the womb and the doctor whipped one out to cut off the umbilical cord. The thing that puzzles me the most is, how the fuck does she go to the bathroom? I mean, it’s gonna be a Herculean task just to manage her hair when she’s sitting on the throne so that the end of it don’t touch the bowl water. If it was my hair, every time I come out of the restroom after taking a dump, half my hair will be wet.

She’s just gifted, I guess.

Ronald McDonald Land

Last post, I touched upon how lowbrow the culture here is. Lemme tell another example. For about 20 years, the only fast food chain we had was KFC. That was it. Then about 7 years ago, somebody opened up a McDonald's. Boy, there was such a bull rush on that place I thought someone yelled "free food!" at Jenny Craig. I mean, I'm friends with this guy who was a shift supervisor when that place first opened, he claims the McDonald's here had scored an average of $100,000 a day in sales for the first 2 months. How many burgers do you need to sell to gross $100,000, for chrissake? The lines over there were like 40 deep, with all counters working. And here, usually if there's like 3 people standing in line in front of you, it's an interminable wait so you go somewhere else. I think during those two months, everyone on island ate their every meal at McDonald's. Breakfast: Big Mac. Lunch: Double Quarter Pounder with cheese. Dinner: Big Mac and Double Quarter Pounder With Cheese and 24 piece chicken nuggets.

I swear, the people here make trailer park trash look like the social elite. Someone get me off this rock.

Tuesday, January 29, 2002

Mood Lighting

I was sitting outside in my car outside the one and only bookstore on island, when I noticed why I don’t really enjoy going there, nor do I regard it as a “real” bookstore. It’s not because the selection is the shallowest, most faddish, or the most commercial collection ever existed in a sad excuse for a bookstore, nor is it because the store by now resembles Harry Potter-land. It’s because of the bane of modern civilization: fluorescent lights. Believe you me, I have nothing against fluorescent lights, and I am well aware of the energy saving qualities of the said lamps. But the books just don’t look right under those harsh lights. It’s like no red butcher lamps in the red light district, or like a titty bar that’s way too bright. Some things are not meant to be well lit, that’s all. My personal opinion is that going to bookstores, as well as brothels and nudie bars, should be like going back to the womb. Kinda darkish, with soft, pale, glowing lights.

Coincidentally, when I was 18 and thought I knew everything, I had this little theory about how book to liquor store ratio determines the general cultural level of the town. For example, when I was living in Waltham, Massachusetts, on Main Street, there was one bookstore and four stores that sold liquor. My estimation of the sophistication level of the townies was pretty low, to say the least. Here, there is one bookstore for the whole entire island, and every corner store, and there are more than a thousand of them I reckon, has a fridge full of Buds and Lite Beer. What does that say about our level of culture, I wonder sometimes. That’s why Taco Bell opening out here in the near future is such big news, I guess.

Instant Noodle Head

Around dinner time last night, I go foraging for food. So in the refrigerator, all I find is a six pack of beer and some wilted thingie that I really can't tell what it was. And the cupboard is bare except for a few cans of Spam and three packages of instant ramen noodles. I don't know if anyone else had tried this shit, but it's basically oriental style macaroni and cheese. Some dried up noodles, and soup made up of salt, MSG, and some artificial flavorings. Oh yeah, they add a few flakes of dehydrated green onions for that "natural" feel. So that's what I ate. Coincidentally, eating ramen noodles at night makes my face swell up.

As a side note, I have to say I have a huge head. It looks like I have a very large watermelon atop my shoulders. It's so big that even size 9 hats (the biggest one they make) doesn't even come close to circumnavigating the melon. It just sits on top, flopping. So anyways, imagine that head, with face swelled up to twice the normal size, the normal size which is freakishly big to begin with. If that's not bad enough, I'm also really bad-looking. Imagine that Ron Jeremy and Big Fat Bastard's ass somehow had a love child. That would be my face.

And that's not all. This morning, on my way to work, I had a flat tire. I'm not trying to be like a frustrated bad comedian or anything. Well, I am, but that's beside the point. The mother of all flat tires-it exploded. The explosion probably reverberated for miles. It was so loud that if it had happened near a goverment building, people would evacuate thinking it was a bomb or a falling airplane. That loud. Lucky son of a bitch that I was, I decided to wear my white shirt today. So at work, I was walking around, late, with tire streaks on my pristine white shirt, with filthy grimy hands and the face twice its normal size. Whenever people looked at me, they either rushed to avert their gaze or made faces like they've seen something really really really horrible. The kind of face you make when you see a roadkill on the side of the road, half rotten, with its guts hanging out, covered with flies.

Today was just not my day. I'm so depressed, I don't think I can even pop a boner. Now, that's depressed.

Ay Chihuahua

Living on an island sucks, most of the time, really. Except occasionally I read the local papers here, and laugh so hard that I trip on my third appendage. Just today, the biggest headline in the paper was "Taco Bell Soon to Open on Island". Jesus Christ, that headline beat out all the murders and government appointments of high officials, and rapes and all that shit. Kinda tells you what kinda social life we have out here, doesn't it, if the opening of a fast food chain is the biggest news. I hope somebody gets knocked off or something, because I don't know how much more of this I can take.

Monday, January 28, 2002

Roses Are Red

It's that time of the year again that I get really depressed when I look inside my drawer and find my unopened box of condoms. Yup, Valentine's Day. *Sigh* Anyways, count me in as one of the guys who are eagerly awaiting the female version of Viagra. I'm betting that it will work extremely well on Valentine's Day, when I buy those chocolates with brandy in them, and spike it with some of that medicine. And I'm not talking about those knock-out pills either. If I wanted to fuck some immobile object, I'll buy a blow-up doll. I'm just in need of something that makes women horny. And hallucinate a little so I look handsome and thin. I'll buy like 10 boxes of chocolate, sweeten the pot, give it to a woman, and stick to her like glue until the drug kicks in. Then pick a different woman the next day, repeat. Woo-hoo!

Objectify My Love

Whenever I pop a video on the ol’ VCR and sit back on the couch to spend a night appreciating the plot on a porno, if there’s a woman around (unfortunately mostly wives and girlfriends of my friends, alas) they always go on bitching about how those porno movies objectify women. Objectify women, my ass. If women wanna talk about how porno objectify women, then we gotta talk about how soap operas and romantic novels and movies objectify men. I don’t know if this is because of the limited amount of time I’ve ever watched the soaps or romantic movies or read romance novels, but it seems to them the great majority of them feature men that are of two types: asshole and stupid, and really charming and stupid. At least on pornos, men don’t comment about women’s personality or intelligence. They just be very horny women. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that in those crude depictions of men, which objectify men by the way, all the dudes are ruggedly good looking with chiseled bodies, and extremely well-dressed as well. In the real world, we have a term for men like that: gay.

You know why women hardly ever hear about these gross violations of men’s rights? Because we know when to shut up. We do not want the booty train to make a sudden derailment, nor do we want to get slapped and scratched, unless you’re into that kinda stuff, of course. On the other hand, I don’t shut up because no matter how much technology had advanced over the years, there’s no way to get any tail or be put in any kind of pain over the internet. As soon as someone figures that out, I’ll be singing a different tune, I’m sure.

Yes, dear. Nod. Nod. Nod. Whatever you say, sweetheart. Nod. Nod. Nod. You know you’re never wrong, honey. Nod. Nod. Nod. You wanna go shopping? Of course I want to stand around in the mall for four hours, holding your bag.

Sunday, January 27, 2002

Wet Hole

I'm watching Oasis on VH-1 on Behind the Music, and laughing my ass off. I haven't seen this much unitelligible Brits since Trainspotting. Not even Brad Pitt in Snatch was this hard to understand. It's so fucking bad that most of the time that the singer and the guitar player is talking, there's subtitles. Oasis to English, I assume. Actually, I think this is not such a bad idea. It should be done more often. For example, Rolling Stones to English subtitles, or Bob Dylan to English subtitles, or something.

By the way, when the fuck did I start enjoying VH-1? Dammit, I'm not the MTV generation anymore. How come nobody told me that as I get older, I'm gonna start liking VH-1? Aaaaaacccckkk! I know why that happened. Rap and Pop. Fuckin hip-hop, Britney Spears and 'N Sync fucking soured me of MTV. Not to mention those walking abortions called "Real World" cast members.

Death Wish

Can't sleep, so just blogrolling again, and what's with all these depressing blogs today? "If I die no one will care." And "Nobody will miss me." Must be something in the climate.

You know what, if I die nobody's gonna miss me either. The news of my death, preferably in some horrific fashion, will actually make alot of people ecstatic. But I'm such a mean bastard that I can't stand making people happy. That's why I will live forever!



Man, this dude is one of the saddest guys I've seen in a while. He sounds like he's more desperate than even me! And the kid is only 11 years old. At least I can complain (loudly and bitterly, if I may add) since I got the disadvantage of age over this little loser. Anyways, when I was 11 years old, I really wasn't looking for a chick. At that age, porno magazines were enough for me. Looking at this site almost cheers me up from my incessant crankiness, though. That's a plus, I think...

And check out the mullet! And the glasses!


Apparently, on this Winter Olyimpics, officials are clamping down on figure skaters, to prevent the women from wearing overly provocative clothes or performing evocative routines. I don't see the logic behind this, since I don't see anything wrong with wearing skirts that barely cover women asses, or spinning around with their leg pointed in the air, exposing their crotches for all the world to see. But I understand, since no straight male ever watches figure skating. I'm not being sexist or anything. Ask around. Everyone who admits to watching figure skating is either women, or gay. C'mon, not even lesbians watch figure skating. Frankly, watching figure skating is like watching a bored and not very well endowed stripper. Even worse, since there's no payoff in the end. And men don't watch figure skating because there's a much more, er, interesting sport-women's gymnastics. Those little thongs somehow transfixes me to the screen.

Notice I did not do a cheap dig of how the winter games are held in Utah this year, and how those Mormons be prudes. I am much more intelligent than that. After all, those 15 kids don't grow on trees, do they?

Saturday, January 26, 2002

Meat Eater

I might be the only one, but whenever I watch those African Safari documentaries on TV, I begin to salivate. When a gazelle or a antelope shows up, the only thing I can think about is an open fire and a rotisserie pit. I've never tried gazelle, but from the looks of the live animal, it looks like it's gonna be a hundred times better than tired old beef. In fact one of my dream in life is to go this restaurant I heard about in South Africa, where they serve all these game animals culled from the nature preserves. When I saw that on the Discovery Channel, you can bet that I was smelling what they were cooking, if you know what I mean. Only "African" animal I've tried is crocodile, and they were crocodile jerky, so I don't think it counts. Only thing is that I don't think I would like zebras all that much, if they taste anything like horse. But still, I'm willing to try it once.

In Joke

One thing I really love is in-jokes. I got a little obsession about them, and once I get one going, I have to work it till death. That's why I enjoyed Jay And Silent Bob Strikes Back much more than other people did, and why I enjoyed The Spirit, while it lasted. I even "do it" when nobody understands what I'm doing. They just think Jun has finally lost his marbles, or that I have lost my marbles already in the past and this is just confirming it. For example, today, I went to the beach with my friends, to see if I can get some color into my skin, which by now is resembling a frog belly in hue. So of course at the beach there's sand, so I got down on my hands and knees and pounded my fists in the sand, mumbling, "Damn you all to hell..."

By the way, my Dog is still totally useless in helping me pick up chicks. I think I need to go steal a baby from somebody. As long as I can get some of those latex plugs, so that it won't puke, piss, or shit all over me.

Friday, January 25, 2002


In the front gate of my brother’s school, there’s this big-ass sign with these big-ass black block letters. It reads: This is a drug-free and violence-free zone. No wonder why drug use and fighting is such a big problem at that school. No one there can barely speak proper English, much less read it. In order for the dumbass students there to understand, it should read: Don’t you muthafuckers be using no dope here, and don’t go fighting with nobody. You down wit’ dat? I bet my left nut that that will dramatically, dramatically reduce drug using and violence in that school.

I’m just always alert for opportunities to contribute to my civic duties.

Flight Of The Bumblebee

I’ve made it back, more or less in one piece. I kinda losing faith in my kitchen god, since on the flight there I got the old lady as the pilot, as old looking as ever. I almost lost my shit when she did this little twitch about 10 feet off the runway, I thought we were gonna do a cartwheel and crash and burn for sure. Coming back, I got the fighter pilot, and I’m pretty sure he was dying to do some barrel rolls, only he was forbidden to do so by law. For those who never rode on those itty-bitty Piper airplanes, think of it as riding piggyback on a bumblebee hopped up on a snootful of meth. Cruising is alright, I guess, it’s just the take-off and landing that scares the bejesus outta me.

Anyways, I gotta go, I still need to do a little more trembling, crying, and whimpering in the corner. Delayed terror, I presume.

Down With The Sickness

Sweet Jesus, I'm fucking sick. I've been in bed all day, moaning, groaning, and bitching, and dreaming about nothing but sitting in front of my 'puter, typing. I think I may be in need of some help. And lemme tell you, moaning and groaning by yourself is no fun whatsoever. It feels like I'm having a really really bad hangover, with body aches, splitting headache, dry heaves, dehydration, the whole works. The thing is, I haven't drunk an alcoholic beverage for almost a week! This shit is sooooo not fair. It's almost like getting HIV or something without having sex. I'm suffering through the consequences without having any fun beforehand. Why? WHY????

On another note, I gotta ge my ass on a itty-bitty plane tomorrow morning. You know, the kind that has four seats inside, and you get in by getting in a humping position and go in ass-first. The kinda plane that looks like a paper airplane other than the fact that it has this fan in the front. Anyways, out of the three pilots, I pray to god I get the normal one. In my present condition, I don't think I can handle the 75 year old woman who I wouldn't trust to drive my car nevermind a plane, or the dude who thinks he's a fighter pilot and he's relegated to a shit job.

Anyways, I gotta go eat my first meal of the day. And then go back to bed. I haven't gotten in all my whining for a sick-day yet.

Wednesday, January 23, 2002

Bumper to Bumper

Almost nothing pisses off more than bad grammar. Coming back from work today, I saw a bumper sticker that said: DON’T GET CLOSED TO ME, GET CLOSED TO GOD. Just aside from the moral and philosophical objections I have to said sticker, it doesn’t say much about the idiots who get “closed” to god, does it? If he ever goes on the traditional recruiting trip, he better not take his car along, lest his intelligence be seriously questioned. I wouldn’t buy a used bike from such a person much less change my religion. How the fuck do you get “closed” to someone anyways? I guess if you lock yourself in a store with someone, then theoretically, you can be “closed” to that person. I don’t know who’s the more ignorant party here. The guy who thought that it was such a great slogan that it needs to be written down on a bumper sticker, or the guy who thought the sticker is so brilliant that he absolutely needs to slap it on his car.

Random Thoughts

K-Mart Declares Bankruptcy

C’mon, only people with serious mental illnesses will believe that Martha Stewart and Kathie Lee Gifford actually shops at K-Mart. Lose the celebrity endorsements, and bring back the two-dollar T-shirts and the quarter tube socks.

Too Un-Cool Even For VH-1

Hawking a best of CD on TV sure is a death knell in your career, isn’t it? I believe those crappy Time-Life compilations are to blame. A bit of free advice: unless you’re Hammer and absolutely fucking broke, DO NOT SELL YOUR CDS ON TV.

Mike Tyson

Jesus Christ, this guy can give how to be a nutjob classes to Michael Jackson. Methinks in the next press conference involving Tyson, a full Hannibal Lecter regalia might be required. By law.


Am I the only one transfixed to this woman’s belly? I don’t understand one word from her mouth, but who the fuck cares? And did she just sing about her breast, and touched them? Ne-no-ne-no-ne this, baby.


Two words: James Fucking Cameron. Get him. Stalk him. Bribe him. Threaten him. Move in to his house. No matter what you do, make a movie with him. Arnold would’ve be in a much better place in his career if he had played the boat in Titanic.

Alanis Morisette

I just saw her new video, and I kinda sorta like it. Thing is, though, if I wanna listen to pop, I would listen to Britney Spears. Alanis, reason one why you became famous in the first place is because you hate men as much as lesbians and say “fuck” in your songs. The pop thing hasn’t worked the first time around, and won’t work again.


With all these fighting in the NBA, maybe they need to change the initials from NBA to WWF.

Music Death

There is nothing sadder than a music star dying peacefully in bed. Not a week goes by without some old singer/rock star keeling over because of old age. This should be in a rock star’s job description: Young, good looking, must be willing to die early in some sort of horrible, self-destructive manner. C’mon. You gotta continue the proud tradition of Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Kobain, Elvis Presley and countless other greats. What the fuck happen to a decent overdose or choking in your own puke? We need to get some old school standards back here.

Janet Jackson

Man, this chick is getting hotter every year. And how old is she? 50? I dunno, but she’s older than me, and since I’m not really into older chicks, she might as well be 50. Anyways, she needs to give the name of her plastic surgeon to her brother. Since he (or she) did such a great job to Janet, maybe Michael’s face can be salvaged into something at least resembling human. (Woo-hoo! Two Michael Jackson references in one blog entry! Am I good, or what?) (Answer: or what.)


I woke up this morning at 2 AM from a nightmare. That's the third time in a week, with nary a naked chickie in sight. It's not because I'm crazy, or something. And I am definitely not losing my mind. And I am not in denial, neither. I deny that I am in denial.

It's because I ate a can of Spam for dinner last night. You heard me right. Spam. I don't get it. I used to enjoy spam when I was a kid. Now, it's almost like taking drugs. Whenever I eat Spam, I get fucked up. Perhaps it's because once I start eating Spam I can't stop until I finish the whole can. Or maybe it's because that's all I ate. Just Spam. Right out of the can, when it's still pink and wet.

Tuesday, January 22, 2002

Manly Work

I'm spending all day today, and probably tomorrow, changing the engine to my 15 year old piece of shit pick-up truck. And no, I'm not a redneck. I wanted to do it at a shop, but they're charging upwards of $800 for it, and my piece of shit claptrap truck is not probably worth that, total. So no office work for me today, boyo. I don't really care though, since I BE MANLY!, and for the first time in a long while, I'll be getting lube under my finger nails. The CAR kinda lube. Get your mind out of the gutter.

On another note, Dog seems to be suffering from the runs. Guess what I found in the living room this morning? Yup, pools of dog...drippings. Wrestled with him for 15 minutes until I was able to force a couple of digestion pills down his gullet. I can't get too mad at him, though, since he was so apologetic this morning. I'll give him a bath in a few days and kick his ass then. Unlike stupid Dog, Jun never forgets.


The Folly Of King George

I got up real early today, like at 4:00 AM. I had to, since I didn't get online at all yesterday, so I was suffering from withdrawal symptoms. Gets to show you how my life is if one day of non-computing gives me imsomnia. Anyways, since I had like hours to kill, I surfed the 'net a little bit, something I didn't have the chance to do for a few days.

Thing that pissed me off, though, is all these nerds moaning and groaning about how 'N Sync will be on the new Star Wars movie. All I wanna say is: Grow up! The target audience for Star Wars is not 35 year old virgins with the sweetest system known to man. It supposed to be for kids. Y'know, like those little people you see sometimes when you go for your weekly dose of outside air? It's made for them, not for you. So shut the fuck up, and go get some tail, or something. If you can.

Whew. Sorry. Had to get that off my chest.


I need to get me one of these. I wonder if supermodels will be cheaper or more expensive?

Through The Teeth

Yeah. Uh-uh. Riiiiiiight. Whaterver you say, Bill.

Sunday, January 20, 2002

Gah! Snow!

I was watching the New England-Oakland game earlier today, where they played in snow coming up to their ankles. I was just coming out of my snow-deprived depression, too. Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in! I turned up the air conditioner to the lowest it will go and dug out my winter coat to watch the game, but it's just not the same. God I miss snow.

I couldn't get into my blogger an hour ago, so was surfing the other blogs when I came up with this. It gets old pretty fast, but for what it's worth, and had alot of laughs. Especially on kid's sites or religious sites. Most of the time it's pretty stupid, but once in a while it'll get it right, and I would die laughing.

What's Your Sign?

According to a recent British study, frequent sex helps prevent brain tumors, as well as coronary diseases, in men.

Thus, I have a new pick-up line to use at bars.

"Baby, you wanna come over to my place and help me with disease prevention?"

It sure will be better than my previous pick-up line, "Do you swallow?"

Good Eatin'

I spent the better part of the day today, when not in front of my 'puter of course, going through my refrigerator, trying to find out what Dog wouldn't eat. After a couple of hours, I found that he would not eat fruits nor raw vegetables, unless I shove it down his throat and hold his mouth down until he swallows. Kinda like chicks when I come...uh, nevermind. But otherwise, he eats everything. Including chips, cooked onions, cooked scallions, cheetos, cooked garlic, gingerbread, plain rice, white bread, and anything else that I take a bite out of first.

So it got me thinking of what I wouldn't eat. So I made a list.

What Jun will never eat voluntarily:
1. Human
2. Cockroaches
3. Cats
4. Mice and/or rats

What Jun might eat, but not enjoy very much:
1. Cooked fish
2. Raw broccoli, cauliflower, mushroom
3. Brussel Sprouts
4. Pasta and Noodles
5. Pork rinds

That's about it. Just like Dog, I'm fine with everything else.

Saturday, January 19, 2002

A Boy Named Jun

Sometimes I wish I had a different name. Y'know, Jun sometimes sound Like Lee, or Jamie, Sean, or Leslie. Y'know when someone got that kinda name, 9 times out of 10 their gay. I wish I had like a MANLY name. Like Earl. Or Jack. A kind of name like when you hear it, it feels like a punch in the gut, y'know what I mean?

Positive Negativity

Don't you just hate all that positive shit in all of these blogs? I can't stand positive. If it wasn't for the fact that I'm the one writing this shit, I wouldn't even read this at all.

One good thing about browsing through random blogs: you can rip-off stuff that I'm too lazy to search for myself. Like that comment thingie. Or that mood shit. That mood shit is so cute!!!

Aaaacckkk! Positive! Must...Think...Negative...Thoughts...


So I know this guy, who's middle-aged, married, and has a stripper girlfriend. Let me emphasize the last part again, a stripper. When I first met him, I thought he was just another wifebeater, and not a very creative one at that. He just punched out his wife a few times. Not that I condone that kinda thing, of course. But on December, he was arrested at his girlfriend's house, who happens to be a STRIPPER, for disturbing the peace. Along the way, he got beat up by the police, but that's another story.

What amazes me, and put this guy in a whole new light, other than an asshole wifebeater, was that he kept his girlfriend a secret from his wife and friends for so long. In a small island, everyone knows each other's car. You may not know the owner, but you recognize the car, since you see it all the time, on a place where there is basically three main roads. So it's not hard for wives to keep track of their husband's peccadilloes, or vice versa. So one of my new year's resolution was to convince this guy to tell me his secrets and hopefully get him to introduce me to his girlfriend's, uh, co-workers.

Yesterday, I met him at court and had a chance to talk for a few minutes. And he had agreed to take me to his STRIPPER girlfriend's tittie bar! Hooray! Of course, I would need to fight off all the dykes. You know the kind. The real butch ones who look like my uncle, without the beard. Well...they might have a moustache...

Since I'm not the one to kiss and tell, which I hope will involve a lot more than kissing, I won't probably blog about it. You'll know, nonetheless, since I will be really happy afterwards.

Real happy.

Idiot Nation

This just reaffirms my estmate of the dude's intelligence.

Which is the equivalent of a support structure for a domestic property enclosure apparatus.

Moron Alert

Just before I fell asleep yesterday, I tuned into CNN, this dude in Australia threw away a winning lottery ticket worth about $750,000.00. So the idiot is digging through the town dump, while the town gave the shit for brains sole prospecting rights to dig through the trash at the dump. Insert your own joke here.

Apparently stupidity isn't restricted to nationality nor region.

Page Update

I also added a comment thingie.

It's so late, I'm blubbering.

Really gotta go to bed...


Added a guestbook.

I also added a couple more links.

Look at the time! I gotta go to bed!

Window Dressing

I don't know why, but my dog spends hours, standing with his front paws at the window ledge, staring at the outside. I have no clue why he does that. I joined him at his post at the window today, and there's like nothing going on. I thought at least there was some bitch passing by, or something, but NOTHING! So I like let him outside, thinking he wanted to go outside, but then he started scratching at the door less than 5 minutes later.

Sometimes I think Dog has some kinda learning disability. Or someone dropped him on his head when Dog was Puppy, or something.

Or perhaps I shouldn't hide my stash in his food bag.

Friday, January 18, 2002


Formula for a real MAN'S movie in 15 easy steps...

1: Big Explosion
2: Fight
3: Villain kills everyone just to prove what a badass he(or she) is
4: Hero wakes up in dingy apartment, hung over, and in some kind of pain/gratuitous female nudity
5: Hero gets chased
6: Fight
7: Hero find out he is the only one who can stop villain, hot chick gets in trouble with villain
8: Fight
9: Gratuitous sex
10: Chase
11: Fight
12: Gratuitous nudity #2
13: Really Big Explosion
14: Final hero/villain fight
15: Hero walks off, slightly wounded, with hot chick in arm

See? Simple. No love triangle shit like Pearl Harbor. Now if you don't like this movie, you're a woman, wanna be a woman, or like taking it up the ass.

Coming soon: Jackie Chan formula

Scared Stiff

I was watching this show on VH-1 about fans of Kid Rock. First of all, there was this normal looking chick, who's a female free-style fighter. Like that ultimate fighting shit. Scared the shit outta me, I tell you. But oddly excited, as well.

But the thing that made me turn off the TV was this former stripper. And her husband was pissed off that her wife, a former stripper, was listening to crap like Kid Rock, and that it will adversely affect their younger daughter, whose mother, coincidentally, is a former stripper. By marrying the former stripper you already proved to the world you're a fucking moron. So shut the fuck up, and let your wife, and I can't stress this enough, a FORMER STRIPPER, have some fun.

At least the sex should be pretty awesome.

War Footing

I watched Pearl Harbor on DVD last night, and boy, was I thankful I did not watch this in the theater. Is it just me, or what's the fucking deal with love triangles in war movies? My god, first it was Enemy at the Gates, now this shit? At least at there it was relevant to the plot. What happened to the good old fashioned war movies? When men were men and women were only there to be fucked, both literally and figuratively.

Ladies, we have got to put a stop to this. You gotta tell Hollywood that you won't stand for this kind of cross-marketing bullshit by refusing to go see a war movie. No matter how much your husband, boyfriend, brother, son, or father might beg you, do not go see a war movie! You don't see me at a sappy love movie, so you gotta do your part. You gotta teach these spineless bastards at the movie studios a lesson! Stand up for your rights to not have to put up with 2 hours of silly fighting just so that you can see a juicy love triangle! Go watch Kate & Leopold! Make The Royal Tenenbaums the first big hit of the year! Go ga-ga over Russell Crowe in A Beautiful Mind! But for the love of god, stay the fuck away from our war movies!

On a different note, which idiot did not think that at the end Ben Affleck will get the chick, since he's the biggest star in that film?

Thursday, January 17, 2002


Although I prostrate myself to kitchen god every night, I have this sinking feeling that Britney Spears might not be going away. When she first came out, I was hoping that what happened to singers like Tiffany or Debbie Gibson might happen to her, but no dice. In fact, Britney's music and videos really piss me off. They make me either kill myself, or inflict grievous bodily harm to something, or both at the same time. What a headline, huh? "Man Turns to Violence After Being Fed Up With Britney Spears". To bad there's no more LP's now, but I'm sure that if you play Britney Spears' songs backwards, you still get crap.

Don't get me wrong. I wish all the luck and success to Ms. Spears. It's just that I wish to god that her success doesn't involve mass media. I would be perfectly happy for her if she was an ultra-successful business tycoon, or a really chic hollywood madam, or something. Just don't come on TV no more. Please god. Make it stop.

At least the Backstreet Boys seem to be going away. Hallelujah!

Now if only something happened to 'N Sync... Something involving power tools, perhaps, and decapitation...

got brains?

On my way to work, I saw the stupidest bumper sticker ever. It said "got fina' denne'?" Now fina' denne' (pronounced fee-na-de-nee, and say it like you mean it) is this sauce popular in this region consisting mainly of soy sauce, with vinegar, garlic, local chili peppers, onions, scallions, and whatever you can think of. This is perhaps the lamest application of the got --? slogan that I've ever seen. I wonder what those guys were smoking when they came up with that one. I don't know about you, but I'm getting sick and tired of those marketing catch phrases anyways. Perhaps I should report this to the milk people and urge them to sue those dumbasses of copyright infringement, or something.

Speaking of chili peppers, we have these peppers here that are smaller than the nail on your pinky finger, but is hot as a motherfucker. If you ever eat one by mistake (or on purpose, if you have a severe learning disability), it'll give you 3rd degree burns going down, and cause major burning sensation in your ass for 3 days coming out. And that's if you have a healthy digestive system. If you don't, then may god have mercy on your soul, you stupid fuck.

Digital Manipulation

I can't leave things alone. Take this page, for instance. It's been about 11 days since I've restarted my blog, and since then I've took down and reposted everything 3 times. And everyday, I change shit around, sometimes radically. So if you ever, ever visit and see shit all fucked up, I'm sorry. I'm learning as I go along, and shit will be back to it's usual fucked up state in like half an hour, if I can figure out what the fuck went wrong, where, and why.

As for today, I added a link to Lockergnome and stats4all. I also discovered right now that I can change the number of posts to be displayed on the main page, instead of going by the number of days. That's a very important distinction, people! So for a few days at least, there's 10 latest posts on the main page. All this is a result of almost 2 hours of work. I have no idea how some people can maintain whole websites, when I'm having such trouble maintaining 3 pages. They must not sleep at all.

Whew, I'm all tuckered out, now. I'm ready for my nap, nurse.

Sweet Dreams

This morning, I woke up at 4:30 AM, screaming like a little girl from a nightmare. I know that most people, like me, hate hearing about other people dreams, so when someone starts droning on what they had dreamt about, start tuning them out and think about the important questions in life, like where can you buy the best coffee, or boxers or briefs, or, the most important question of all, how to efficiently pick up the ladies at the bar.

I usually don't dream, or more accurately, don't remember my dreams, but last night I did 2 things that really make me dream like a motherfucker. I slept on the couch, and I fell asleep early (for me, anyways) at 11:30. So I won't give you the details, since I forgot most of them already, but I was at work, y'see, then I started talking to people for a really, really long time, then I drove around the island for hours.

Oh, I forgot to mention. I classify all dreams that doesn't have me fucking at least a moderately good looking chick as nightmares.

Wednesday, January 16, 2002

Party On

Living on an island, I get a lot of opportunities to gorge myself. That’s why here, it is abnormal if you don’t have a belly that protrudes at least 6 inches from your chest. And the best places to eat are in the island parties. I’ve been to one yesterday, and it took almost 24 hours to recover from the food so that I can blog again.

So over the years, I’ve noticed some distinct types of partygoers. There’s the one, who while carrying 4 plates piled high with food, go to the drink counter and order a Diet Pepsi. Gotta keep the weight down. Then there’s the people whose sole purpose in going to a party is to steal enough food to last them the rest of the year. They gotta drive with food in their lap, since all the rest of the seats are filled to the roof with stolen party food. Then there’s the type who does not eat solid food, but only consumes liquids. Y’know, like when I’m having a Scotch and Soda, they tell me hard liquor’s only for alcoholics, then proceeds to drink a case and a half of beer on the spot.

But the main event in a party is not actually the eating, it’s the fighting. When two men are fighting, it’s the worst, since both of them are shit-faced. So they take a few swings at each other, roll around on the grass like it’s oil wrestling night on the local gay bar, and when they sober up a little, go drink some more beers. When a woman and a man fight, it’s a bit more interesting, since there’s a bit of ass kicking. That’s why I don’t get in fistfights with a woman.

But the real fighting is when 2 women fight. And they don’t fight because of the silly reasons that men fight for, like some one step on somebody, or someone bumped into a car while backing up, one someone’s wearing the same outfit, or anything like that. That’s just an excuse. It’s years and years of resentment, jealousy, and hatred bubbling up. And it’s always a ball to watch, because it’s really vicious. A lot of scratching, eye gouging, dress tearing, biting and hair pulling are involved. That’s when you take out your money and start betting.

In fact, you know which women came to fight, because they’re the ones who got their nails done. Like they either rough it up so that it gets real ragged for the maximum scratch effect, or they hone in really sharp to slice into faces.

I won 30 bucks last night. Hehehe

Nothing Sacred

The President, today, announced that justice will prevail and that he will begin a bombing campaign on the offices of Rold's Gold Pretzel company. "Those evil, evil men will face the wrath of the American people," said the president, "We will hunt them down, until they have no corporate offices in which they can rest, until no boardroom in the world provides refuge to the terrorists. You are with us, or against us."

In other news, Ari Fleischer said in a press conference, "The President does not discriminate between type, color, or consistency of snack foods. In the future, the President plans to choke and pass out on various types of foods, including, but not limited to, Cheetos, Doritos, Pringles, Lay's, and Barbara's patented rock-hard fruit cake."

The Vice President issued a seperate statement, saying, "The President will from now on be prohibited from wearing glasses, eating, and/or watching television without proper adult supervision."

It has also been reported that The President, after the incident, had spent the entire day at the bunker facilities in an undisclosed air base in North Dakota, for "safety" reasons.

On the other hand, The President's father, the former President commented, "That's why I don't eat brussel sprouts nor broccoli. Well, at least he didn't puke on the Japanese Prime Minister."

Finally, porn stars Jenna Jameson, Asia Carrera, and Christy Canyon, among others, have offered their services in teaching the President the art of swallowing without choking. Said Ms. Jameson, "Just because we have sex for a living, it doesn't mean we're not patriotic." Rush Limbaugh is also expected to make an appearance. Howard Stern is scheduled to be a special consultant, marking the first time these two radio hosts are working on a common project. The organizers are hiring a engineering specialists to build a stage that supports the weight of both Mr. Limbaugh's ass and Mr. Stern's nose. "Just because I hate the guts of the lard-ass doesn't mean we can't all unite and support the President in this time of grave national emergency," said Mr. Stern in a media release.

Tuesday, January 15, 2002

And The Award Goes To...

I've eaten and drunk some vile and disgusting shit in my life, but warm gin, I think, is the foulest, most evil thing I've ever had the misfortunate to put in my mouth.

And by the way, why is it that when I'm drinking coffee I can't stop drinking it until I feel like I'm gonna puke? I swear, somebody's hiding their stash in my coffee can.

Annoying Man

I'm drinking a cup of joe, watching some TV, before I have to get back to work. Is it just me, or is that Intel commercial with those fucking aliens really annoying? It's almost as annoying as that Steve on those Dell commercials. Not quite, but almost. I actually was going to rant about Steve and how I would love to bash his teeth in, but doing while "research" for it, they beat me to it.

Just to clarify the last post, it was the glasses that did it. I'm sure there's a lot of democrats who would give their left nut to trade places with those glasses. Apparently, no one ever taught him to swallow properly. Or, it wasn't really the NFL you were watching, was it, George? Don't worry, I understand. Fully.

Monday, January 14, 2002


C'mon, how stupid can a guy get? If he had actually died, it would have been historical. What a legacy, huh? And to add insult to injury, the dude fell flat on his face, cutting himself up. And he's the leader of the free world. God help us all.

On a final note, why can't you leave the poor bastard alone? So he wants to smoke a joint now and then. Well, more power to him, I say.

South Park

Talking about TV, I just finished watching South Park, and it kicked ass, as usual. I'm amazed every week that after, what, 3 years on air, South Park is still hilarious. Kinda like a beacon of hope in the ocean of mediocrity that is the rest of the TV.

In fact, once I started watching South Park, I can't bear watching The Simpsons anymore. It's too bland now. Just like you can't take anymore American Salsa once you tried the real Mexican Ass Burners. Yes, that is the official name. Mexican Ass Burners. Well, like many Spanish names, the full name is longer, Official Mexican Ass Burners When Taking A Shit, but it's Mexican Ass Burners just for short.

Sunday, January 13, 2002

Sunday Afternoon

Spent the whole afternoon at home, diligently avoiding chores and watching some television, and smoking cigarettes. Is it just me, or is TV getting crappier and crappier every year?

Oh no, I sound like my dad. Brrrrrrrrrrr. Shake it off, shake it off.

Anyways, some friends invited me to go fishing with them, but I declined, since my goal in life is to be a bigger, better couch potato. Seriously though, I didn't want to go since we never seem to catch anything anyways. Most we catch are these little itty-bitty fishes that should either be thrown back in, or put in aquariums. And throwing it back usually isn't an option because we fish at this 100 foot high cliff, and even more so, none of us are very adept and removing fish from hook. By the time we manage to dig the hook out, the head is a bloody mess, and the fish is deader than my sex life.

I also refused to go to church today, which I refuse every week, but still, it never fails to make me proud of myself. I stay home by myself, watching porn, and humming "I am the antichrist, I am an anarchist..." Among all the videos, I rate porn the highest since in porn, they usually get right to the action, and don't mess too much with dialogue or plot progression.

And oh yeah, I haven't watched Stand by Me yet.


Me: It’s 4:00 in the morning, staring at my computer screen, debating whether to go to bed or not…

Voices in my head: Why don’t you write a blog?

Me: About what? I don’t have anything to write about…

Voice 1: Anything you write is golden, my boy.

Voice 2: To top it off, you’re handsome, charming, funny…

Voice 1: And don’t forget to mention your huge cock!

Voice 3: I mean it’s HUMONGOUS!

Voice 2: Is that a boa constrictor in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?

Voice 3: That thing should be classified as a lethal weapon!

Me: This is getting a little lame, boys. I’m gonna go to bed. But first, I'll just make a few more posts…just a few more...

Paging Mr. McCarthy

This is possibly the scariest motherfucking thing I've ever seen since the V-Chip.

Pretty Cool

I ran across this somewhere and it's pretty freaky, in a silly, corny kinda way.

Key: you gotta stare at it for like 30 seconds or so after it loads.

Offensive Maneuvers

I’m watching CNN right now, and they say that the Pakistani president will issue a statement. So there’s this guy, like keening, before the statement. Is it just me, or does that sound like if the guy didn’t take a good, clearing, shit for like a month. And he’s so nasal, that it looks like the dude has a big, thick stick lodged deep in his ass. Of course, I wouldn’t know personally, since I never had anything in my ass. Ever. Not even a thermometer. That’s for gays, and I BE MANLY!

Hmmm. I think that’s just a little too much information than most people would like to know.

Saturday, January 12, 2002

The Maddening Crowd

I finally had the chance to watch Lord of the Rings this week. I know it’s kinda late, but I’ve been trying to watch it for the last two weeks, but couldn’t because of the people.

I mean, c’mon, the only reason that I’m living in this god-forsaken place is to get away from people, which I hate. That’s right. I hate people. So when I got to the theater and saw a line in front of the ticket counter a 100 feet long, you can be sure that I turned tail and ran away as quickly as I can.

Even this week, there was an uncomfortable number of people in the theater, y’know, just being there. It definitely ruined my movie experience. I don’t get it. Why can’t these people stay at home with their families on the Holidays, huh? Like normal people. Instead, they crawl out from whatever rock they were hiding under and come and annoy me. The manners of some people!

Seriously, though, here’s a short review: only thing I didn’t like was Arwen’s weird accent (what’s up with that?) and the fact that the movie is freaking three hours long. It would make a good DVD, though. So that I can pause it to go the bathroom, smoke a cigarette, drop another tab of acid, or whatever. At least it was a whole lot a better movie than Harry Potter, which is nothing more than a glorified graphic novel.

Urgent Update

Contrary to some rumors among my friends living abroad, I'm not dead yet. Sorry to disappoint y'all, but I'm very much alive. Thank you.

And now back to your regularly scheduled activities.

Friday, January 11, 2002

Dog Day Afternoon

So after my little trip to the beach, I gave Dog a shower. Which I administer usually on Saturdays, but since we were at the beach today, why the hell not?

My dog hates the water. I dunno why. Most dogs I had before actually liked water, and swimming and shit. My dog hates all that. I don't know what happened to him when he was a puppy, since I got him when he was a little more than a year old. But giving him a bath has always been a chore. He doesn't even like swimming. He can swim, but he hates it.

Ex: last time I've been to the beach, couple of weeks ago, I walked out onto a little pier that's like right on the beach on the north side. Since it was the first time Dog's been with me, he didn't know what was going on, so he happily followed me. So when we got to the end, I pushed him into the ocean. Boy, did he hate that. As he was falling, he howled like someone stole his favorite bone, then swum like hell towards the shore. I guess dogs instinctively know how to swim.

So Dog gave me the evil eye for like 2 hours, before he forgot about it, since he's a stupid dog. But today, when I walked out onto the pier and called him, he ignored me. Even when I used magic words like "eat" or "food" or "drive" or "bitch". When I became insistant, then he was acting busy, inspecting a tree. That fucker. Imagine how stupid I looked standing at the end of the pier yelling at the top of my lungs to the Dog, while Dog was busilly looking the other way.

Anyways, I got my revenge back at home, when I gave him a bath, since it takes a good ass-whupping in order to make Dog stay still in the tub. You can bet I was a little enthusiasting with a whupping today.

Hehehe. Serves him right. That son of a bitch.

The Beach

I didn't have any work today, as usual, so I spent the day at the beach with my dog. In the middle of fucking January.

God I miss snow. I like warm, nice weather as much as the next guy, but pul-eeze this is getting kinda old, y'know. Years and years of warm weather makes a guy want a little variety in his life. It's like eating prime rib everyday, or porking the same woman everyday. Once in a while you gotta get something a little different.

I dunno. I just wanted to bitch a little.

Be back later.

Get Out Of Jail Free

Last Monday, I had to go to jail. Not for something I did, natch, but to visit someone. An accused rapist. Anyways, so I go to the local jail to the gate, and there was like no one guarding the place. Absolutely. No. One. Alot of my friends are probably sick to death hearing about this one, but it always feels peculiar when I let myself into jail. And it absolutely kills me when I let myself out. Imagine that. You can let yourself outta jail whenever you want to.

And I believe many inmates do.

Of course, living on a small island, there's pretty much nowhere to run to even if you can manage to get out of jail by yourself, so my understanding is that most people just let themselves back in in the morning before roll call.


So here's like my blog.

No one will read it, but if you do stumble on it, then enjoy.

I'm never serious, so just remember that before you throw a hissy fit.