Sunday, September 29, 2002

Adult Beverage

A couple of days ago, I was coming back home late at night, happy (SOMEONE knows why), when I spy this young kid maybe of high school age drunk out of his gourd, sitting on the sidewalk and puking his guts out. Isn't there anything more pathetic in the world than some guy that young who can't handle their liquor, having to upchuck all over the street? I mean, if you're a chick then I understand. Chicks need to know what their absolute limit is, lest some guy like me comes along, gives them drinks, distract them by telling funny stories, then when the blackout starts to hit...:evil: But as far as guys are concerned, when the buzz starts happening, they should know better to slow down on the alcohol intake. Or else you're just a drunkard.

And besides, when I was that age (couple of years ago, honest!) alcohol was very hard to come by, you know? We needed very expensive fake ID's to get some. Or diligently kiss someone's ass who were old enough to be of legal age for alcohol purchase. So no matter what, we're not gonna throw anything up unless we died first. When it's so valuable, we keep it in our ass, or by god we ain't MEN.

Friday, September 27, 2002

Project: Go Tee

I've been growing a goatee for a couple of weeks now, and it's becoming furry and fuzzy. MMMM. Reminds me of something else. Anyways, I've been growing this through protests, derision, contempt and mocking from my friends, who accuse me of looking like a thief, mugger, rapist, or the worst, a COOL Christian dude. What the hell do they know anyways? They're the one who's cheats on their girlfriends while I just WISH for one.

I think some guy's problems towards fidelity is that when they're girlfriends are concerned, they want nice, presentable, RESPECTABLE chick. So as a result, ends up getting some very unsatisfactory booty, since they don't want their chicks to be a *gasp* slutty. Me, I don't give a fuck. Wait. I DO give a fuck. Many fucks. Lemme rephrase that. I don't really care about being respectable. My philosophy is that if I get everything I want at home, I'm not gonna go cheating on a gf. Simple as that. That's possibly why there's so much trade in Japan in sick fetish prostitution. I mean, sick even to my standards. Now, if every chick was a slut, then no dude's gonna be cheating. So ladies of the world, being a slut is GOOD. Hehehehe.

Wednesday, September 25, 2002


If you live long enough, you see almost anything. Last night I was watching some late night TV program on the Computer Game Network here, and they had this feature in which they set up a pair of chicks with a professional gamer, yes PROFESSIONAL GAMER, and then the couple played some games together against the other couple. And the more surprising is that the audience was like 3/4 chicks, screaming at the gamers, and most of them were pretty hot. Sheesh. Even gamers have groupies. Although those geeks probably don't know what to do with a woman if she came up a bit him in concept, nevermind. Anyways, I need to become a celebrity of some kind, pretty quick, to get some of that groupie action. And I would know what to do with a woman, bite or no.

Monday, September 23, 2002

Beautiful Day

I feel alot better now. Thanks to Miel and Jenny for helping out. And I went drinking with my friends yesterday, from 4:30PM to 1:00AM. And one of them had brought his girlfriend, and seeing them had cheered me up greatly. The guy was trying to be a little affectionate, tried to kiss her on her cheek, and she told him to stop it. On her cheek! Jeez. I would rather be single, relieving myself rather than be with a chick like that. I mean, saying no where THAT'S involved is grounds for a breakup. I don't really give a fuck if she says no any other time, but if she says no to my amorous advances, then she's out on her ass.

I would feel sorry for my friend, if he wasn't a cheating, domineering bastard.

Saturday, September 21, 2002

Old Habits

I feel very sick. I had this thought when I was sitting in front of the computer that while other people are getting some, here I am, holding my dick in my hands. Literally. Makes me feel really small and pathetic and worthless, and is almost paralyzing me. Can't even get myself off, and you KNOW that's serious. And it's hitting me harder than usual, since I wasn't fully recovered from the last entry. I think I'm NEED to take a nap before I can't overcome the urge to do a swan dive from the 23rd floor balcony.


If I don't blog know what happened.

Challenger One

At the subway yesterday near my house, the tracks are elevated at that point in the line, so needing a climb up a long flight of stairs. Now, in the middle of the stairs, there's a landing, and yesterday as I was climbling it, I saw this 70 year old lady selling a meager collection of magnifying glasses and cases and being ignored by practically everyone. And of course, I bought a case off her, for five bucks. And although I was a little depressed at the sight, I tried to put it out of my mind until I got to the platform, where I saw a really old man, around the same age group as the lady selling the glasses, mopping the floor and getting ignored by practically everyone,. It pretty much made me lose my MANLY facade, blinking back tears, first time I had even an urge to cry in like 10 years.

I don't know, but whenever I see the elderly having to do menial labor really makes me rue the society that we're living in. Don't they have kids? Family? What the fuck are they doing letting these old people work at these sucky jobs to make a living. If they were my parents, I would have to be dead before I let them get reduced to that. And afterwards in the subway, when I overheard two girls talking about a new cell phone colors that are in style this season, and how they're gonna buy a new one while I spyed a perfectly fine phone dangling from their waists, I had this overwhelming urge to break my philosophy of never committing an act of violence on a woman.

Damn, I'm getting all depressed again. I'm gonna go take a shower and go to bed. Gotta wake up in like 5 hours for a family road trip. Yuck. With kids. That means no smoking. *Shudder* And it takes like 4~5 hours to go there and back. Probably I will be in a FOUL mood tomorrow, naturally.

Thursday, September 19, 2002

Master Thespian

I was watching some early morning TV today at like 6 in the morning. (Read: stayed up all night, looking at porn and getting a handle on myself) They had this educational program on about conversational English, with the main focus being this skit and a couple of people explaining what the skit meant. And lemme tell you, the acting was sooooooooooo bad that I was literally waiting for the 70's funk music to come on and the two actors there, who were playing a couple in a mild disagreement, to get naked and start getting it on on the couch. I mean, I was getting a lump in my pants, anticipating, having forgotten for a second that I'm watching network television where porn is illegal.

It's painful now anyways, even if it happened to be porn. Yesterday, a fleck of lit ash fell of my cigarette, and landed on my ring finger. On my IMPORTANT hand. And I only use that hand exclusively to conduct my business. Can't do it with the other hand. So got a blister on the finger, and it hurts like a motherfucker everytime I grab onto something.

It doesn't stop me, though.

Wednesday, September 18, 2002

Personal Hygiene And You

Anybody who spends alot of time out and about, going around for various reasons get to see alot of bathrooms. It's the same for me, and one thing I've noticed is that this place has a total infatuation with bidets. You know, the toilet apparatus that supposedly replaces toilet tissue. In other words, those thing on the seat that shoots water up your ass. Which pretty much grosses me out. Thing that grosses me out even more is that they have infomercials about it on TV. Very graphic too. Take pane of plastic, small, ridged circle in the middle, covered with some brown stuff, and they show the bidet cleaning it out. YUCK! Perhaps that's why they have so much healthy, perfect assholes here.

In the diary portion of my blog, I was riding the subway, had to transfer lines, and saw this old lady selling small baby bunny rabbits. I was suddenly overcome with an urge to stand there, oohing and aahing at the bunny rabbits, exclaiming how cute it is and clapping my hands when it scurries around, twitching its nose. I hand to get a hold of myself, repeat "I BE MANLY!" several times to myself before the urge passed. Had a close one there. *Whew*

King Of The Hill

After spending the weekend feeling like a laboratory specimen pickled in alcohol, I capped off the Great Bender Weekend by drinking three guys to the ground last night. Two guys were literally falling down drunk, and the other guy wasn't feeling any pain either. That's what I get for drinking with dudes approaching middle age. So I had to make sure all three guys got cabs, tell the driver where to go, pay the driver, and curse Bacchaus that we all happen to live in opposite corners of town.

I'm tired, but not that drunk, and to make the night suck even more, I had insomnia because I was too tired. Too much drinking, sitting in one place crouched over, and intense walking to get to the next bar for four days is catching up to me, I think. Body hurts all over, and I don't really know what I'm typing here, since I'm spaced out as well. So woke up after like three hours of sleep, and moaned in pain all night, until I gave up sleeping at 6AM.

Time for some coffee, I think. Then maybe a nap. Yeah...nap sounds really good.

SHEESH. I'm getting old. Talking about a fuckin' nap sounding good.


Oh yeah, and the goatee is coming along fine.

Saturday, September 14, 2002

Living On A Prayer

When my list of celebrities I wanna nail first went up, I've been accused of having a fascination of chicks that has a "model's figure", or so they say. I think that's a very generalized and unfair statement. When judging celebrities, there's only one kind of body type to choose from anyways. I only made the list from their faces, and a specific feature, disregarding how bony they look. Or else, the list would have been limited to like three names or something. Like for example, I like Avril Lavigne's pants, Hsu Chi's pout, Vanessa Carlton's smile, Nena Kerner's dance, Denise Richards' hair, how a woman pushing 40 like Kylie Minogue can look that good that exposed and not look like a body builder, etc. You get the idea.

Speaking about beatiful people, that's what I prayed for when I went to church on Sunday, aside from my usual prayer of getting chick(s) who likes sex as much as I do. No, I didn't pray that I somehow become magically good looking. I KNOW something like that will never be accomplished, unless my name is AbraHam instead of Jun Ham. I prayed that I make enough money to afford to get radical plastic surgery on my face. Now THAT might have a chance to be fulfilled.

In the spirit of the prayer, I decided to grow a goatee and sideburns. The rationale behind it is this. You know like how a junk yard might have a mangy dog, one milky, blind eye, half the fur missing with pink skin disease on the exposed skin. You're too busy looking and feeling sorry yet repulsed by the mutt to notice all the junk. Same principle, people will too busy looking at my hideous facial hair to notice the Indian train derailment that is my face. So now I have this dark fuzzy thing down there, alot like someone I know and chat with now and then. It's not how much intelligence you have, it's how you use it.

Thursday, September 12, 2002

Year One

So today is the first anniversary, and I'm not gonna say much since there's gonna be better, smarter people than me who's probably gonna produce reams of material. I just wanna make a little observation, about war. Why is it that people who claim that they pray alot and mention praying at every other sentence seem to be the most blood thirsty mob in history since the Golden Horde streaming down the plains of Romania? What happened to turn the other cheek and the golden rule? What happened to standing in the middle of the coliseum and praying while lions, tigers and bears eat their asses? For example, the douche bag, Pat Robertson, whenever the topic of Iraq comes up, he's PISSED that we're not invading and assasinating Saddam Hussein, and morally offended that all the other nations are not coming along on this crusade. The white of his eyes all become bloodshot, and he's shaking in fury that he can't pick up a M-16 and kill a few of them damn infidel Iraqi's. I wouldn't be surprised if that loony grows a beard and makes para-military training tapes, crazy eyed bastard.

Tuesday, September 10, 2002

Ol' Timey Religion

Yesterday, I went to church for the first time in like 6 years, and aside from being totally uncomfortable with the patronizing niceness of everyone, it kinda pissed me off. Y'see, the church I went to was this glass and steel edifice, 10 stories tall, with a glass enclosed elevator and an auditorium that seats 1,500 people. They had a sound system almost rivaling an arena concert, and plasma big screen tv's in case you can't exactly see the preacherman's pimples. Of course, marble floors and granite walls comes standard, with enough rooms to house everyone in my island.

The reason why it pissed me off is because I'm in a place that calls itself the house of god, but there's 65 year old women in the subway station selling bags of cakes for a dollar. I know that a church shouldn't be some charity where everyone gets freebies, but it shouldn't be this gaudy either. AND they were selling some religious trinkets at the door for ten bucks. I mean, if Jesus was there, there woulda been some major house cleaning done. AND that's not the only church that's that fancy, either. No wonder, since they collect about 25,000 dollars a week. No one ever said that religion was a bad racket.

Wednesday, September 04, 2002

Baby's First Toy

I was browsing at a message board I frequent, and I found this. And this is possibly the most unintentionally funny and suggestive bits I've seen in a while.

Tuesday, September 03, 2002

On My Best Behavior

Just to prove how rotten my luck is, over the weekend, I brought upon the worst storm this country has seen since 1959. Freeways, bridges, homes and other roads have been washed away, mud has slid, blocking those aforementioned roads that has not been washed away, cars have gone the way of the Titanic, big old trees have been uprooted and torn asunder, bloated carcasses of livestock was seen floating around, and general mayhem has been wrecked. There's even more than 130 people dead or missing and presumed dead. So I've seen the evil of my ways, and having vowed to lead a virtuous life from now on, I spent the weekend at home, so far away from computers that I was suffering from withdrawal symptoms, counting the walls (four, plus one each of ceiling and floor) and my appendages (twenty-one, with special attention paid to the last one).

Then I met a couple of my friends yesterday, manage to drink almost two kegs of beer among the three of us, and I said to myself, what the fuck, at least I'm not dead, right? And vice has its own rewards anyways. So with my vigor renewed, I spent all day today in various internet cafes, listening to loud music, thus bothering the people sitting within a hundred feet of me, and catching up on my internet stuff. And I'm going to go drinking again tomorrow. Life is short, it sucks, then you die, so I figure I should enjoy it when I can.

Now...where's my beer?