this is just perfect

so this is the part where i lost an entire post and i bitch about it.

i'm trying really hard to be calm here.

okay, enough already.

fuck blogger.com. fuck them all and i hope they burn in hell!!! i hate you! i hate your mother, mrs. blogger.com! i hate your stupid, unemployed father, mr. blogger.com. and i even hate your stupid, drooling pet, benny the dog blogger.com! i hate you all!!! what the fuck is wrong with you people??? do you find pleasure in seeing us bloggers think of an idea for a post, then type it, then edit it, then publish it... only for you to lose in just a fraction of a fucking second!!! you people at blogger.com are sick! god forbid... if ever i see you guys, i'll rip your ears off with my bare hands!!! fuck you!!! fuck you!!! and fuck you!!!

wait. i forgot something.... oh yeah.... FUCK YOU!!!

so i wrote this decent post for about fifteen minutes. when i hit the publish button, the thing suddenly vanishes into thin air. without a fucking trace. well i'm not typing the entire thing again because this computer would wind up with a fucking hole in it by the end of tonight. is there some kind of support group for bloggers that lose posts after spending a stupid amount of time thinking them up and typing them down?

because if there is, then sign me the fuck up.

now i need a hug... and a beer. gimme that beer!

i'm out.

a tribute to my folks

i would like to blame my parents for my small weiner and my ugly face. other than that, i'd like to thank them for everything.

i'm out.

domo arigato, mr. roboto

ever since i was a kid i always wanted to be japanese.

why? i don't know.

is it because japan is such a wonderful place where cutting edge technology and symbiotic environmental harmony mesh like strawberries and champagne? what the fuck was that? that was some stupid analogy back there.

but there is something about japanese culture that somehow draws me to it... like a moth to a candle's flame. shit! i know, i know... i better stay away from stupid, cheesy analogies. man, i really suck at it!

anyway, yeah, about their culture and shit. theirs is a sumo culture. which means nobody would rudely stare at my fat ass and immediately judge me for being guilty of violating one of the deadly sins.

gultton!

hey! wait a just a darn star jones minute there! i'm no glutton. the only reason i look like this is because my metabolism went kaput ten years ago. ten years! have you any idea what that means?! it means i breathe, i gain weight. dumbass! oooh. i'm sorry. i forgot. you're the kind of person who eats the ten commandments and the eight beatitudes for dinner. forgive me your eminence. forgive me for being so rude to your holy, spiritual, prayerful ass you fuckface!

i bet fat people in japan rarely have days like this. yeah. even fat catholic japnese people.

you're japanese and you're fat! man, you're an athlete! you get to go to mcdonald's and eat all the grease-filled food you can handle, then you go out and they'll still look at you like an athlete. hm... i wonder how sumo wrestlers order food in mcdonald's in japan...

*sumo guy faces counter and mcdonald's crew.
*assumes the pre-sumo wrestling squat position.
*raises left leg, gives a pre-sumo wrestling sumo slap to his left thigh, then stomps left foot to the ground.
*raises right leg, gives a pre-sumo wrestling sumo slap to his right thigh, then stomps right foot to the ground.
*takes a handful of rock salt with his right hand and splatters the mcdonald's counter (including crew) with it.
*orders 44 big macs, 14 fried chickens... whole chickens, a gallon of strawberry sundae, and 30 liters of coke.
*japanese mcdonald's crew asks if he wants fries with that.
* he answers yes, then orders 20 kilograms of french fries.
*then says arigato.

hm... i'd love to relocate to japan.

i'm out.

sorry

please excuse my post early this morning.

i know. it was totally out of line. you guys deserve better. i shouldn't come out here and post blogs that are done half-heartedly. i'm sorry.

it's just that, this morning was rather more hectic and tumultous than the usual. yes. work got in the way. i was in a conference room with ten other guys. meeting on issues. by the time i got my mojo to post a decent blog, i couldn't excuse myself. too late. the meeting started. and i was the one presiding over it. shit.

that pretty much messed up my mood the whole morning. i was very irritated. it's like i had this annoying wedgy... wait... i did have an annoying wedgy this morning. dang!

so when i got out the conference room, i posted a shitty one about me farting out of my ear because of the mighty mighty bosstones, and crying like a baby because of the smashing pumpkins. totally embarassed by that post i tell you.

what i really wanted to post was this:

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

now that i've posted it, that pretty much updates everyone on how my day went.

i'm out.

something's wrong

i'm worried.

i'm starting to fart from my ear. what worries me more is that it only happens when i listen to old mighty mighty bosstones songs. alarming.

and i cry everytime i hear songs by smashing pumpkins.

dang!

what the hell is wrong with me?!

i'm going to figure this out. in the meantime, i'll try to keep my flatulence in check by having less ska and more reggae.

i'm out.

what truly amazes the human mind is...

how this blog manages to be funny and witty...

despite horrific grammatical errors.

i'm out.

bedpan friend

at the hospital. 5:15 pm. resting.

perky visitor: hey man! how's the leg?

not me: fine.

perky visitor: really? does that mean you can walk now? then what the hell are you doin' here? you should get out and have some sun. feel the cool breeze. smell the roses. i mean, do something.

not me: i can't do that.

perky visitor: you just said it was fine. now why can't you do those things?

not me: well... because it still hurts like hell. and i only said "fine" to avoid a conversation with you.

perky visitor: ooohhh... someone's really not in the mood today. tell me... what can i do to cheer you up? c'mon. don't be shy. i'll cheer you up. i'm you friend.

not me: uhm... not be here.

perky visitor: hahaha! you can really make people laugh man! that was a good one! whoo! "not be here" hahahaha!

not me: no, seriously. i'd really like to be alone for a while.

perky visitor: c'mon, you don't want to be alone. not with a broken leg. what you need right now is a friend. someone you can talk to. and i'm here.

[awkward silence]

perky visitor: so next week... me and the guys will go out for some hoops at the gym... i figured you wanna come... you know... to hang out with us for a while.

not me: i'm in a cast. and you're inviting me to watch you guys play a basketball game? now, that's funny.

perky visitor: funny? how so? i told you, you need your friends around you, man. c'mon. cheer up.

[awkward, eerie silence]

perky visitor: so, what do you want to do right now?

not me: well, since you asked...

perky visitor: that's my boy! now c'mon... c'mon... what does little joe want right now... you can tell your uncle ferdie... c'mon... c'mon.

not me: what i really want right now is to be well enough to get out of this cast...

perky visitor: so you can play hoops with us again?

not me: no. so i can hit the gym and seriously work out and build my upper body strength...

perky visitor: then you'll play hoops with us again?

not me: no. so i have enough strength to pick you up by your stupid cargo shorts and toss you out of this hospital's second floor window. why the second floor window? so that number one, you won't die, and number two, you'll be conscious enough to feel a sharp, throbbing, unbearable pain. then you can scream your lungs out and cry like the fag that you really are. then i can watch you get rushed to this same hospital, and be confined in this same stupid room, and be comfortably reclined in this same stinky hospital bed! then i can barge in that same stupid door at 5:15 in the afternoon and start asking you stupid fucking questions like... "hey man, how's the leg? how's the leg, man? c'mon you can tell me, i'm your friend."

and oh... just for the record... it's not my leg. it's my right knee. i twisted my right knee. now, that's what i want to do!

perky visitor: you're rude, man. i wasn't going to leave but now i'm goin'... adios!

not me: wait. can you be a friend and empty the bedpan before you leave? it's kinda filled up to the brim. thanks.

i'm out.

seacrest, out?!

there never seems to be a shortage of closing line critics.

i remember just last december (or was it january), a certain reader (i forgot the name, i'm truly sorry. an accident happened remember? all my previous posts got erased) suggested that i change my closing line from "i'm out" to "late." he offered an explanation. he said that saying "i'm out" gives this image of me being knocked out in a boxing match. really?

i asked the guy, isn't it we'd say "later" rather than "late" whenever we say goodbye? he said no, and offered another explanation. he said he always mingles with americans, and hispanics, and black people, and they always use "late." he then offered that if ever i needed help on any american english slangs, i should ask him. really? oh what joy! a walking, breathing dictionary of american english slangs! he should come in handy during cocktail parties. again, i'm not very good at pretending. thank god "N" was there to save the day. thanks "N!"

now, another friend of mine, mike dlp (yeah, the michael jordan fanatic) offered yet another critic on my closing line. he asked why the hell i end my blogs with a ryan seacrest-like "i'm out."

very clever, mike. very clever. why?

well... jesus fucking christ in the mall!!! i don't fucking know, mike!

maybe because the moon is made of cheese. maybe because cher dumped bono. maybe because the earth's rotation on its axis gets misaligned by one second every 16 years. maybe because it's the year of the rooster. maybe because i watch american idol and masturbate on paula abdul. maybe because the pope is about to die. maybe because i haven't had enough coffee for the past 72 hours. maybe because i was asked to bend over to pick up the soap. maybe because i was hit that hard by the bell when i was young. i don't fucking know!

but whatever the reason is, it's not about that blowjob artist seacrest. goddamnit! don't you think i deserve better than being asked by these stupid, out of the ass questions?! and who the fuck is ryan seacrest anyway? yeah i know he's gay because judging from the smile he has on his website, it looks like he likes dicks a lot. but who the fuck is he, huh?

ooohhh... look at me. i'm ryan seacrest. i'm the host of american idol. i have perfect teeth. i have a magnetic smile. and my last name's sooooo cooooool! SEACREST! it's soooo underwater action hero. sooooooooo justice league! SEACREST! and that fat guy, paningit, had the nerves to plagarize my closing line in the show. oh, did i already say i host the show american idol. oh wow! it's like the coooolest show on the planet! we get to choose the next american recording bust! oh what fun! plus i get the chance to get screwed by simon and randy in the ass every after episode... at the dressing room of course. i'm blushing here. gosh.

shut the fuck up asswipe! as far as i'm concerned, you don't sound like an underwater action hero. you sound like a toothpaste. yah heard me? a fucking toothpaste!!!

(pause: mild aneurysm)

ok, i'm calm. whew! that was the most workout i had in a year. thanks mike!

so you think my closing line is a bit ryan seacrest-ish eh? so what do you guys suggest i say? i'm giving you guys til sunday to come up with a witty closing line for the paningit blog, that is, if you're annoyed with "i'm out" that much.

seacrest? fuck that bitch! i'm out!

my greatest blogging fear

wanna know my greatest blogging fear? i mean, it's not like you have a choice here, other than closing this window, that is.

no, no, no. it's not knowing that people don't read what you write. i started out way. i never worried about that. hey, i have a lot of family and friends who read junk.

my greatest fear is becoming a mommy blog. yep. a mommy blog. the term alone has a creepy tone to it. i practically shiver everytime i hear that term. mommy blog. yikes.

what is a mommy blog? basically, mommy blogs are blogs maintained by moms (married, separated, single, dead, alive, i don't know). whatever their status is, they should be moms. that's the first requirement for being a mommy blog. second is, they write all about their kids, family, little leagues, pta meetings, diaper rashes, homeworks, breastfeeding vs. bottlefeeding debates, and other shit most moms and guys with families can relate to. in other words, they're like the blog equivalent of oprah.

jesus fucking christ!!! oprah... that lady freaks me out! it's like she made a deal with the devil or something. pieces of evidence:
(1) she goes from fat (meaning extremely obese) to thin (meaning slightly obese) and back to fat all in one season.
(2) one season in tv is equal to 13 weeks. 13 weeks! 13! the number is somehow connected to the occult, doesn't it?!
(3) she's one of the richest (a fucking billionaire!) and most influential persons in the world.
(4) and she's black! goddamn! she did sign a deal with the devil!!!

but somehow, i must admit, oprah does inspire me from time time. she makes me believe that fat and unacttractive people can actually succeed as talkshow hosts... if you make a deal with the devil, that is.

where was i? oh yeah, mommy blogs, right.

so these mommy blogs discuss oprah issues over at their.. er.. blogs, mostly minus those emotion-filled (and downright cheesy!) dr. phil sessions in between. if you've ever seen one, you'll notice that it's kinda cute in the beginning. after reading three posts, now that's where the trouble begins. you get nauseated at first, then you vomit. you get tired of reading lines like:

"trisha said her first word today. she said dew-dee. it's so cute, it made me want to cry." dew-dee?! i hate to break it to you, lady, but that ain't a word. where the fuck did you go to school anway? in a "windtalker" institute? jeez! and yeah, keep encouraging that kind of blabber from your 10-month old kid and i guarantee you'll be crying by the time she reaches first grade and all she could say is "dew-dee." dew-fucking-dee!

going back to my fear. i'm somehow concerned that i may end up like this, being a father of two kids and all. yeah. i may someday run out of things to rant about and start looking at the world around me and see nothing but cotton-candy clouds, and rainbows, and sunflowers, and yadda-yadda-yadda. that's what scares me.

however, there are signs that i won't be a mommy blog. a few months back, my four-year old daughter told me about this local children's story about the ant and grasshopper. they discussed it in school she said.

if you're filipino, i know you know this story. you don't? you retarded? oh okay, it's about the ant who spent all summer toiling and working hard so he can save food that can last him throughout the rainy season. he collected bread crumbs and sugar granules everyday, all summer. the grasshopper on the other hand, had fun all summer (that's what we're suppose to do anyway, right?), he played, and hopped, and played, and hopped some more(hey, he's a grasshopper, give 'em a break). so when the rainy days came, the ant was safe inside his little hole full of food, while the grasshopper starved... to death? i don't know.

so i told my kid, the story was nothing but baloney! what really happened was, when the rainy days came, the ant had diabetes because of all the sugar he had during the summer; and the grasshopper had arthritis and rheumatism because he busted his knees hopping and hopping all summer long.

my kid gave me a weird look. she protested that that was not the story her teacher told.

i gave her a smile and turned around. and there was her mother, at my back, she also had that weird look on her face. it occured to me that she was there listening all the while to how i viciously distorted the story that supposedly taught the values of hardwork and perseverance to my kid.

shit!

the day ended with my wife straightening out the story to my kid, while they had cookies and milk. i, on the other hand, watched tv and held an ice pack over a lump on my forehead.

what do you know... maybe i won't morph into an annoying mommy blog afterall.

and oh, in case you're wondering, there's no such thing as a "daddy blog." but dude, how do we refer to blogs made by dads that discuss oprah issues too? you refer to them as mommy blogs also. why? because "daddy blogs" are nothing but mommy blogs with testicles. how about blogs made by dads but don't discuss oprah issues in their posts, how do we call them? you simply call them blogs made by dads who have way too much time to waste... like me.

i'm out.

sometimes titles are not important

yesterday was valentine's day... oh what joy! hm... i'm not good at pretending ain't i?

so it's the one day in the year where true love seems to blossom in the air like cfcs slowly eating away our ozone. to tell you the truth, i hate valentine's day. i know it's unoriginal. but i don't care. i don't care at all if my contempt for valentine's is an unoriginal 90s-angst emotion and i share it with more than a third of the world's population.

i hate it. i simply hate it.

if valentine's day were a person, i would've choked him by now. i would've skewered his eyeballs with a screw driver. and i would've lighted him a cigarette after i've inflated him with tons of helium. boom!

if anything, valentine's is a just a perfect excuse to indulge in two things: chocolates and sex... unsafe sex, that is.

actually, the whole month of february is an excuse for people to indulge in such worldly pleasures. honest. why do you think a lot of people are born in november eh? and to counter this, scholars, astronomists, numerologists, archeologists, astrologists, hair stylists and shit all got together eons ago to reduce the number of days in february. honest. hm... i'm not very good at making stories either. okay, moving on...

what's worse than valentine's and the mushy concept of love that goes along with it? no, not the drew carey show... even worse than that. no, not the simple life either. okay, enough with the shows. what's worse? annoying couples.

let's take a look at my list shall we... they are the:

:: "let's make-out in public because everyone should learn to be sweet like us" couple -- jesus christ! they're arguably the most annoying of 'em all. they kiss. they cuddle. they feel each other up. they stick their fingers in places not sold in stores. they exchange body fluids. all in full view of the public. and oh, mostly they're unattractive... morbidly unattractive. so they do these things and you're standing there, a mere foot away from the crime scene, and they don't even seem to mind.

a few minutes later you start to wonder how many times they've actually been dropped head first by their mothers when they were young.

hey. fuckers!!! i've got something to say here. i haven't had my lunch yet, and i'm really hungry, and i don't want to lose my appetite and all.. so please.. for the sake of everything decent... get a fucking room!!! no wait. go get plastic surgery first, then go get a room.

look i'm just waiting for the bus here. i'm just trying to get home safe, just like everyone else. so why must you feel the need to disgust everyone around you with such lip-locking, tounge-entangling, body-groping dance steps eh? why? why?!

and oh, lady, that's a really nice and sexy tummy shirt you're wearing. i mean, i understand that you need to look good for your man and all. but for the love of ruben studdard!!! why must your tummy stick out? isn't it suppose to stay inside? shit!!! you guys are freakin' me out here!!!

:: "we're fighting in public but you're not allowed to look at us" couple -- there was this one time i went out a restaurant to have a smoke. shit, i hate non-smoking restos! anyway, so there i was enjoying my luckies when suddenly i heard this lady calling out her man in public.

"fuck you! you and that skanky whore bitch!" she said. natural for every human being to react to a stimulus, so i looked at them. i didn't stare. suddenly ms. un-skanky whore bitch snapped at me and said "mind your fucking business!"

whoa! mind my own business? excuse me princess, but last time i checked, dr. phil ain't staging a private session here on the public sidewalk. i am on a public sidewalk ain't i? wait, lemme check... oh yeah, i am still on a PUBLIC sidewalk. and you're there staging a jerry springer taping.

here's a suggestion, you want to call out your man? then do it in the privacy of your own fucking sanity... bitch!

:: "we hold hands wherever and we won't let go until they turn black and blue" couple -- it's okay to hold hands, me and my wife do it all the time. even in public. what's not okay is if you hold hands and become a traffic problem.

i mean, what do you want to do, deliver a vicious clothesline to every unsuspecting pedestrian that comes your way? if you want to hold hands while walking, please stay as close together as humanly possible. and oh, please stop swaying those hands. if you can't do that, then i suggest you go to the hills and do your holding, and skipping, and swaying there while you pretend to listen to julie andrews' the sound of fucking music! the hills are alive with the sound of.. belch!

please, follow my suggestions. because god knows i'll snap if ever i see you guys do this shit in public. and by snap, i mean i'll grab an ax and chop off those annoying limbs of yours.

:: "we like to replace each other's names with the word baby" couple -- "baby, this doesn't fit right." "well then baby, maybe you should return it." "but baby, then i have to go back to the store baby." "oh baby, we can go together." "then baby we can slip inside the fitting room and go make a baby, baby." "oh baby, i wanna have your baby, baby." baby this, baby that, baby fucking back ribs my ass!!! (my apologies, trans)

baby, for the love of everyone who is not you... please shut the fuck up! how do people not see that this obsessive use of the word baby is not only revolting and irritating, but it could also cause severe homicidal thoughts from those around you?

and that goes with people who like to substitute the word love with the word heart as well. i mean, sometimes it's cute... especially on love letters and shit... yeah, even on blogs. but excessive use of it. argh!!!

there was this one time i overheard a couple in a restaurant exchanging sweet nothings to each other; the guy goes: "oh baby, i heart you." then the girl goes: "oh baby, i heart you too." i just wanted to slap each of them with a sizzling plate.

what the hell is going on in this world? i "heart" you? and to think that her boyfriend was the one to say it first. hey buddy, while you're at it, why not strap one on and go fuck yourself! save your girlfriend the time and energy. i mean, you're already half there with comments like that you pansy ass dimwad!

do us all a favor people and lose the "heart" business. this isn't helping society. it's bad enough as it is that you guys have to say the L word, but to throw this little corny twist on it... you may just initiate the end of the world as we know it.

so how about you, what kind of annoying couples annoy you the most?

i'm out. and just to remind you guys again, i don't "heart" valentine's... i don't fucking "heart" it at all!

blues almighty

i have got the blues. i don't know why, and i have no interest whatsoever in finding out why.

it's much more comforting that way. i think. to be semi-depressed and not knowing how you got yourself in this predicament. all i know is: (1) my thoughts are so scattered right now that it looked like i blew my fucking brains out with a glock and (2) i'm in the mood for questions. yep. questions. roll with me for a while:

:: why the hell did you have to permit the existence of vanilla ice and paris hilton? if everyone has a purpose in this world, what's their excuse?

:: are my fingers too fat for the guitar? honestly.

:: speaking of fat, why can't fat be the new thin? can it be the new thin? then gluttony wouldn't be a sin and we can all go pig out at don henrico's.

:: why the fuck should there be a nucleus nacho in every serving of nachos?

:: why do people find drew carey and jay leno funny? i think patrick star can kick those bitches' asses even with his mouth taped to a lawn mower.

:: is it true that the answer to 99 of every 100 questions is money?

:: why didn't you do a better job on martha stuart? is she in any way related to stuart little?

:: why is globalization such a bitch?

:: why did you let john lennon die? he could've been a better governor for california.

:: and where the hell is chuckie dreyfus? seriously. where is he?

now it's your turn. if you could ask god only one question, and guarantee that it would be answered, what would you ask?

i'm out.

lean or mean and the alfalfa thesis

it was either one of two things: (1) it was an ultra lean weekend, (2) or you guys have issues with interaction. i'd like to think it was a lean weekend... yeah... i'd like to think that.

after posting last saturday about me wanting this blog to be more interactive... what do i get? i get a whopping total of two... TWO comments. and the other comment's from me in response to someone named claudzki. oh heck! you love me... you really love me.

anyway, i'm glad that's out of the way. moving on...

i'd like to discuss something known as the alfalfa thesis. what the hell is it and what is it's relevance to our global situation? i have no fucking idea. all i know is it involves alfalfa and that stupid cowlick of his. y'know, the hair that stands up in the middle of his head. right at the center of his perfectly parted comb... kinda like how moses parted the red sea and shit.

anyway, the alfalfa thesis, i think, is a good base for any scientific research. basically, whenever alfalfa is sexually excited, his cowlick goes straight up. my theory is that the reason for this happening is alfalfa's inability to get an erection.

as alfalfa is very young, and hasn't yet been through puberty (that'll forever be character) it is only natural that he has this inability. but in order to compensate for his lack of "boner", the young dude's cowlick mimics this behaviour and stands straight up.

that's what i think.

if you don't know alfalfa... well google him up. i'm too fucking lazy to provide that information.

i'm out.

interactive. i want this interactive.

okay, before i begin with today's... uhm... whatever it is i'd start... lemme get this out of the way...

i want this blog to be interactive as hell! yeah, you heard me. i want this blog to be interactive. you-me, me-you, me-others, you-others, others-others, all getting down and discussing stuff and shit. i'm not kidding. i feel you're not putting enough effort here.

so i'm calling you all out in public. all readers of this shitty, worthless, pathetic blog, to get off your lazy ass and type something in the comments board. say something yah bum! gimme some love, throw me insults, leave a stupid joke, or even a recipe for that perfect adobo... anything, for the love of satan, please leave a mark that says "(random name) was here!"

i know a lot of guys read my shit: my friends, the bush boys, officemates, people connected to me at friendster, people at client logic, people at smart, people in makati, people at city hall, nurses, policemen, engineers, teachers, kindergarten teachers, strippers, plumbers, surfers, truck drivers, activists, active activists, white and blue people, people from boy's high, people from girl's high, people from slu (stupid school!), people from u.p., people from krypton, i'm calling you out to fuckin' participate! i'm serious here.

but of course, this post wouldn't be complete without me appreciating those active commentators who never fail to light up my day... there's iza, trans, ennui, rain, ails, aish, khay, N, sev, and all those nameless-faceless souls i've had the honor of interacting with. big props to you guys and thank you for making my life a lot less miserable everyday.

whew! glad that's out of the way.

i'm out. i'm fuckin' out. wait. that sounded like a song. i think i'm gonna burst into song. and a-one, and a-two, and a-three, and a.... "i'm fucking out / i want the world to know/ gotta let it show/ i'm fucking/ i'm fucking out/ i want the world to know/ gotta let it show/ i'm fucking."

that's it. i'm losing it. i'm out for real now, as i await the ensuing 30 comments or so.

sellout?

we now return to our regular paningit programming.

what's regular programming? well, in a nutshell, that'd be me ranting about something really insignificant but adding a spin to it in an effort to present it to the reader like it's important and shit. so here we go...

don't you just hate it when some self-proclaimed music critic suddenly jumps in a conversation and bravely proclaims that he hates this band because they've now sold out. what a jackass! those people make me want to take their massive, worthless, pseudo-indie cd collection and proceed to smash it over their heads.

sold out? sold out? what exactly do you mean they've sold out? what exactly are they selling, you moron? records, right? yeah records! ain't that suppose to be a good thing because for one, they're a fucking band! it's their job to sell records, dumbass!

yeah, but remember 10 years ago when they used to play in small clubs for virtually nothing? just for some beer and a few change, remember that? remember when they were all about the music?

uhm, they're a band. they've always been about the music. because they're a band. wait a minute, i don't think my message is getting across to you, lemme rephrase that... THEY'RE A FRIGGIN' BAND YOU DIMWIT! there.

now when U2 decides to stop making records and start playing professional basketball in some washed up minor league for old people, then i may have something to say. but i won't say they've sold out. i'd just say they're idiots.

i used to have a band. and believe me, it's not always "about the music." i and three of my cohorts had a band in college for one thing and i mean one thing only... we wanted the attention of chicks. nothing more. and oh, you can't really call us sellouts, because we've never sold anything. not one. we were in that band for about four years and we've got no album, not even a single original composition, to show for it. not even a photo album i tell you.

i'm out.

an hour

every night i wonder
how long will i have to wait for you

i took the liberty of calculating
so far it has been an average of an hour

an hour being the sum of all my
twenty-minute coffee
twenty-minute blogging
twenty-minute smoking

this has been my cycle
to patiently kill time
while keeping my sanity intact

because after an hour
is a promise to be with you
and an opportunity to be myself

because after an hour
i will let go of my sanity
and be madly lost

in

you

smile

i had a nice conversation with an officemate a while ago during our break at the canteen.

so i'm eating my sandwich and he comes out of nowhere and asks, "how's that sandwich treating you?" i said, "bad. pretty bad, man." then he says, "y'know what? you should smile more often. it'll help build a better atmosphere around you. people around you will feel a lot better if you smile." then i said, "you may find it hard to believe, but this is me (with a straight face) smiling." then he said, "ok." then he gives me this smile and a pat at the back.

what the fuck was that?!

hey shitbreath! have i got a suggestion for you! why don't you just back off and mind your own business! i'll fuckin' smile when i want to! i won't go walking around the office acting like pee-wee herman and smiling at everyone i see just because i'd like to create "a better atmosphere." i'm in a funk, okay. i'm not in the mood, okay. i'm human. human beings are allowed an infinitisemal number of times to have days like these. i won't smile for anyone, anyday, anytime if i don't feel like it. besides, the sandwich was really bad.

okay. i was a bit harsh back there. what do you say we start over. let's make a deal. i'll smile everyday. i'll smile even if i don't feel like doing it. i'll do it. even on really bad days... i mean 9/11 bad. i'll just have to tape my cheeks apart to my ears. yah happy now?! oh, but here's the other end of the deal, earwax! listen up and listen good. i'd have to squeeze your head everyday with a vice grip until it pops. so, is that a deal or what? believe me, the day your head pops, i'd be smiling the rest of my life.

i hate annoying people. oh man! someday... my foot and your ass will meet... someday.

i'm out.

reports, aliens, semi-porn jap flicks, and blog gods

i was suppose to complete this report last night on conceptual frameworks for gender analysis. but in true paningit form and fashion, i got bored again. i tried though.

the report's for my thursday class in gender and management. an elective subject i took to complete a 36-unit course and get a hold of that ever elusive master of management diploma i've been chasing for three years now.

anyway, going back to last night. so i turned on the pc, i have coffee and ice tea all prepared, i got my lighter and a pack of luckies, everything was set. one mistake though. i left the tv on. stupid. so i was shifting my attention back and forth from the tv to the pc, to my coffee, to my ice tea, to my smokes, then back to the pc, then some more tv.

*oh simon cowell's on conan o'brien... wait, what was that term again.. ah yes, gender roles framework... holy shit, i can't believe they won in double overtime... who'd ever name a basketball team after a gin?... stupid team, i hate that team... now who the hell is nalia kabeer?... institute of development studies at sussex?... let me pop some red hot chilli peppers on the player... hm, my wife's having rem, wonder what she's dreaming of... gender roles framework, sounds like a lot of work... shit it's 2:30 in the morning... oh well (shuts down pc and watches tv for another 30 minutes, then goes to bed).*

so that's how my night ended and how my morning started. my report was unfinished. and i got a kick from watching semi-porn japanese flicks on cable.

before i hit the sack, i was thinking of an excuse to give my professor. i was abducted by aliens! honest! they had ears for fingers. yes, like suction caps! they struggled a bit to grab me, but i had very large love handles, so... yes, they spoke in a very foreign language. and they had this nifty gadget that translated everything they said. they said, "take me to your dealer!" dealer? what dealer? oh leader... i get it. no ma'am. i haven't done the report. yes, work got in the way. okay, i admit, the blog got in the way. wait a minute, you're reading my blog? really?

but this morning, around 9:00 am, i got a message from caster, my professor. she said she'll be out tonight because of the flu or something. i don't know. whatever it is, i don't want to catch it and it saved my ass from embarassment. i'll be doing the report thursday next week. i think the blog gods were smiling at me last night. hey fuckers! thanks!

so here i am, half-awake, unproductive, doing this blog, and smiling knowing that i'll be free for the night. hm... i wonder what's on tv.

i'm out.

snooze attacks

again, i haven't had enough sleep last night. what a bummer.

and the only thing worse than being wide awake (almost) all night is being half asleep and unproductive all day. i can barely keep my eyes open, but i can't seem to make myself go to bed. maybe i should have just stayed in bed this morning. maybe i should've locked my bedroom door and spent the whole day in bed instead. maybe i should've eaten an apple for breakfast. maybe this... maybe that... maybe... aaahhh!!!!

i have a dozen things to do this week, which means i really need to be more productive tomorrow. really. what am i saying? it's the middle of the fucking week. even my sense of time is screwed. goddamnit! i need to consume coffee. gallons of coffee. non-stop. i need to consume it intraveinously. that'll be the only way.

now will someone please hand me over that iv bag. yes. the one that can hold eight shots of steaming espresso at a time. thank you.

i'm out. (yawn)... (double fucking yawn)

evil

so some say talk show hosts are evil. now why is that?

some say politicians are evil. they rob the people in full view of the media and still have the nerves to run for re-election.

some say, priests are evil (now this i believe is true). they rob the people in the name of relgion while they talk about morality and their gods in sermons.

but do you really want to know the most sinister and the most evil kind? not politicians. not priests. not the police. not even computer geeks. and certainly not talk show hosts.. hey look at conan o'brien, he's as white as casper for chrissakes! the most evil of 'em all are dentists. yes, dentists.

never have i seen anyone so powerful who can inflict so much pain, unspeakable and unbearable pain, on any individual. and he does this while we're in a very vulnerable position... sitting on a comfortable denstist's chair with a dentist's light directly aimed at our faces to blur our vision.

and worst of all, we're stoned with either injected anethesia that numbs the lips (so we couldn't talk or complain) or a potent laughing gas/ hallucinogen that fills us with so much ecstacy we could make stuart smalley look like a mourning mongoloid.

there's no fuckin' bargain out of it i tell you. you're helpless. so you close your eyes and think of happy thoughts. happy thoughts. not working eh? how about something sexy and kinky? not working either. how about something really lewd and dirty and downright nasty? working a bit? not when you hear that dental drill starting to whizz through your second molar. so you finally submit and pray that all that is happening around you is just some re-run of a cheesy horror flick or something. but whatever you do, don't open your eyes... and when he says spit, spit, even with your eyes closed.

i just thank god dentists are not assigned to check on prostates. or that would make mr. rogers say "fuck" on air all the time. i hate dentists.

i'm out.

five years

for five years now we've been together.

through thick and thin. i was always thick and she was always... just kidding.

in sickness and in health. even if you haven't met her, believe me, i'm always the sick one in this relationship.

for richer or for poorer. i don't know about this one. i've never been rich.

but she has been with me. and for me, that's quite an achievement. heck! i can't even stand a minute being with me sometimes.. and she did it for five years straight. this woman needs a statue or something.

it's amusing sometimes. whenever i tell people i'm married, they all give me this funny look like someone just died or something. actually, most of the time they give me the "what?!-someone-actually-had-the-balls-to-marry-you?!" look or "who-the-hell-in-her-lucid-state-of-mind-would-get-hitched-with-someone-like-you?!" look... but i'm cool with that. most people even go as far as asking for proof. "you're married? so where's the ring?" well, sorry folks, i've gotten so big these past couple of years that the ring wouldn't fit anymore. i tell you, if i were frodo, that ring would've never left my finger. stupid midget. anyway, the solution? diet or buy a new set of rings. i'm saving enough money to buy a new one.

what the hell am i saying here? anyway... what's important is, in this world where divorce, and annulments, and separations are as common as... well... a common cold, we've learned to co-exist. we've built a life together. and we even managed to have two adorable kids. i couldn't ask for anything else i guess. maybe... another five years... and another five years.. and another after that.. and another... and another... until god knows when.

yo vicky! here's to you and for putting up with me.

links

so let's figure out how this actually works.

i put up links from my blogsite to others' blogsites to "connect" with other bloggers. now some of these guys i personally know, and some of these guys are complete strangers and i've linked to them because they either posted comments on paningit or i found their materials interesting.

what i didn't know, however, is that connecting with them would drastically increase the traffic in my own blog. and by increase, i mean exponential increase. frankly, i'm surprised people even read this blog. honest.

(okay, okay, aside from the links, i've been really advertising this blog through posts in my friendster account's bulletin board... hey, what can i do? i can't help it. i'm an internet loser... anyway...)

so i'd like to return the favor. i'd like to know how much this good-for-nothing, insignificant, pathetic blog helps increase readership of those blogs i've linked to. so here's the plan...

you're reading this shit, right? right. so while you're at it, why not go visit those other blogs that i frequently read too. now's the perfect time to please direct your attention to the right side of this site, yeah, the green area where the links are situated. if you're too lazy (lazy?! what are you a government employee?!) to look for the links in my user-friendly layout, here they are:

// we grow into our roles // blind_beggar_genre // changing signs // joy // aperture wide open // go west // club life // kodiko // the golden boy // pugnacious pinoy // bottled shits // bagiw // jopoy.com // kapihan ni qroon // mamaril.com // my life is under construction // my so-called life // metropolically-speaking // prothiaden adventure // eternal tantrums of the schizophrenic kind // baubling babble // existential despair // to norway on a bicycle // imaginary friend //

go through them one by one, and tell me what you think of them. better yet, tell me which blog found in the links section is your favorite and why. write your reason, shout outs, rants, complaints, and what-nots on your favorite blog in the comments section of this post. this friggin' post only! c'mon man, be a pal. support the links.

now that takes care of that. hm... i'm feeling good about myself. i'm finally doing something unselfish here. it's an actual miracle, for once i'm directing attention to others and not on me. i'm getting a cotton candy, vanilla sky-ish feeling in my guts right now. what the hell is happening to me?! first, man-boobs! then this?! fuck it!

hey! i'm not kidding here. go to the links i've provided and read 'em. then after reading them, tell me your favorite blog by posting your thoughts on the comments section. yeah, the one that says "speak up!" at the bottom of this post. don't make me come there and beat your ass up. okay? good.

i'm out.

something big

today was a semi-monumental day... for me of course, who else?

today i had a meeting with one of my friends who happens to be in the cable production industry. francis, the friend i was talkin' about if you were paying attention, has this company called brain tv, and maintains connections with the local office of the biggest cable company in the country.

what did we talk about? well, i tried my best, though i struggled a bit, to explain to him a concept of a tv show i'd like to make in cable. now, for all intents and purposes, i will not discuss the concept of the show. but i, however, can divulge that i plan to host it. why? because...

there is a major shortage of fat, unattractive, neurotic, self-absorbed, talentless talk show hosts this side of the planet. and i'm planning to change all that by breaking the rules and being THE ONLY fat, unattractive, neurotic, self-absorbed, talentless talk show host to conquer cable television. local cable television, that is.

so far, all the things we discussed were concepts, ideas, and preliminary shit. and i promised francis to come up with a decent concept paper by the end of the month to somewhat concretize the things i have floating over my head for about a year now. we ended our two-hour conversation, over grande frappucinno servings, with a handshake and a lot of hope. A LOT of hope. he said the concept just might be crazy enough... to... to get us all killed. nah, i'm kidding. he said it was a solid concept we can work around with. now, if i could only get some rich-ass dude to finance it, then we'd be well on our way.

oh man. please triple cross those fingers. i really need this shit to fuckin' work.

i'm out.

beyonce's butt

it can't possibly be all that!

can it? i mean, it's got to be overrated, right?

can someone say back fat? c'mon, all together now BACK FAT!

i'm out.

new look? i don't think so.

finally someone took notice.

one of my friends, who i saw yesterday, took notice of the "new look" this blogsite has. one thing though, the blogsite doesn't have a new look.. i made small, baby-step improvements here and there, but definitely not a new look. what a moron. let's discuss this item for item shall we.

what stayed the same:

:: the damn template and the color schemes -- so i'm still working with the same shades of color and the same boring template that i've used since i began. the header still looks the same. though i'd really like to change that star up there, i feel like the blog looks like a big stupid christmas tree because of it. that, or i'm being sponsored by texaco.

the format's still the same. we have the posts at the left and the links at the right. the font's still the same hard-to-read shit that i've used since last year. i still write the same way, i don't use upper case letters unless i really, really, really have to. and i'm still pissed.

:: the previous post and archives navigation -- still the same. wouldn't want to tinker with what the template gave me. might screw it all up. previous posts shows the 10 latest posts i have in the blog. if you scroll all the way down, the titles you see in the previous post area at the right are the same posts you see at the index page. now where the hell did my other posts go? that's when you use the archives you moron. go to the archives, click a month, then view all the posts written during said month. that simple. that fuckin' simple.

what changed:

:: the comments board -- i installed haloscan remember? then i lost all the comments previously posted on my blog. shit!

:: the profile photo -- yep. finally changed it into another stupid photo. i think i'd bring back the "starbucks U" in there. who cares anyway?

:: links -- so i dropped the "anti-social" label realizing that clinging to it would mean i was still stuck in the 90s. did a little blog shopping of my own and met some cool people along the way. their blogs are the ones you see under the "other readable reads" section at the right. so don't fuckin' waste it you dickless clown (please disregard that comment if you're a woman), go click on the links and read their stuff too. i tell you, the things these blogs come out with are far better than what i forcefully ram down your throats. promise.

:: misc. links -- i had a hard time spelling miscellaneous, so i wrote misc. instead. you can either go to this link or not. i don't fucking care.

:: guest bloggers -- actually it should read guest blogger since the section only contains one contribution so far. i promise to get ardel off his lazy ass and start writing some more for this blog. he's one heck of a writer once he gets his mojo goin' i tell you. and while we're at it, why not think of materials you can contribute to this blog you lazy son of a bitch! go on. write. write about anything. remember this blog is about blah-blahs and blah-blahs and oh, more blah-blahs. that shouldn't be so hard, right?

:: stupid blog games -- why is that? because they're stupid, they're games, and they're in my blog. hence, paningit's stupid blog games. i've created a link for this because i thought you guys would be too lazy to scroll down or visit the archives to just read 'em. then you would be doubly lazy just to join 'em. but what the heck! i made it more accessible anyway.

:: quote of the day -- i try as much as possible to inject as much sense as i can to this blogsite. so i give you quotes. like this one: "don't get used to this whole quote of the day shit because i will not be quoting people that often and i sure as hell won't do it every day." -- anonymous (not really because i just made that quote up but it does sound so mysterious when you put "anonymous" in there, dosen't it?).

:: today's top 10 somethings -- just random top 10 thoughts i had and i thought i'd share them to you guys. but like i previously said, don't get used to it and... again, who the fuck cares about these thoughts, anyway?

:: read the past -- it's not a link, so don't go clickin' away like a madman on it. it's just a simple reminder for you guys that if you like more shit, there's more where it came from baby! yeah! the archives links are up there, just below previous fuckin' posts.

:: the counter and a link to haloscan -- do i even need to fuckin' explain this?!

so there you are, a complete and simple how-to guide to better enjoy paningit.blogspot.com. a bit of a warning though, the posts in this blogsite should only be read on an empty stomach and should not but consumed while in a very good mood. now go read the fucking thing already.

i'm out.

top 10 reasons why paris hilton and nicole richie should be shot

10. they're idiots.
09. they're not funny. not funny at all.
08. they can't act worth of shit.
07. they're dumb. too dumb to be true in fact.
06. they're ugly stuck up snobs.
05. they never worked a day in their lives.
04. they're irritatingly irritating.
03. they think they're better than you.
02. they think they're cool.
01. if they were shot, then the show wouldn't exist, thus creating a better world for us and our children.

i'm out.

yesterday

i had one of 'em days again yesterday.

yeah. i know in my heart there was something important that i had to do; or something important i had to say to someone very important; but i somehow managed to forget every single bit of that "something." so i wasn't in a good mood at all yesterday. in fact, i wanted to throw up. and so i did. that's what happens to me when these things go down... the psychological discomfort makes my guts turn in all directions. then i vomit.

i know i was to suppose to do something yesterday, february 3. but i still can't remember what it is. or is it, i won't remember what it is? either way, i can feel the chunks rising in my throat again.

i'm out.

jay leno..

... is an unfunny whore! yes he is!

and if he makes you laugh, then you have some serious issues to settle with youself man.

long face, white hair, irritating voice, goes around town with a bald "black" sidekick who exudes the arrogance of a white man, drives a ferrari, collects ferraris (rightfully so because he pretty much resembles the horse in every ferrari), a con artist, a blackmailing goofball, and, to say the least, a very poor replacement of johnny carson. on good days, he could be a good jerry springer substitute.. but that's only on good days. and i totally hate springer! don't even get me started with that blabbering fuck!

i'm out.

for the life of me

there are some things i can't do. ever.

i mean, it's basically human nature right? there are some things that we are good at, although i can't think of anything that i am really good at (does insulting people count?), and there are some things that we just fuckin' suck at. hey, we can't be superman.

but there are "simple things" that other people expect we can do. and i just hate that. those simple things are not so simple, not for a guy like me anyway. here's another trivia about me: i'm, quite possibly, the most uncoordinated and clumsiest son of a bitch to ever walk the planet. period.

my movements are not graceful. everytime i move, i either step on someone's foot (both literally and figuratively speaking), i step on my own foot at times, or i break something. that's who i am. and for that reason i can't:

:: swim -- i'd like to thank iza for reminding me this. yeah. i can't swim. why? maybe because i grew up in a mountain-city. maybe because, even at an early age, i wasn't really comfortable wearing just swimming trunks and my top off. or maybe i'm just a pussy when it comes to swimming. what's wrong with me? i don't know. my dad's a great swimmer. a handful of my uncles are great at swimming too. so i guess we can rule out swimming skill as being genetic.

but i did try. however, everytime i get in a pool or go to the beach, it just always ends up with images of me looking like a stupid, clueless frog, complete with limbs helplessly flailing, mouth wide open and obviously fighting for air while alternately swallowing gallons of water. i guess my body's just not bouyant. i think it's pourus. a semi permeable membreane.

yeah. you got me. i just hated swim instructors. i had this wild fantasy that all swim instructors looked like the babes in baywatch. i always imagined what it would be like to be around women like that.. y'know.. dumb blondes in bikini... how the hell can someone hide a hard on when he's wearing only speedo swim trunks eh? i'm such a dufus.

anyway, i once had a swim instructor with a waist line that measures more than mine. her belly was so freakishly big, that i was sure the number was about nearing the radius of the equator. she was a patient bitch, however. she just kept on egging me to do this and do that and learn the basics of swimming. after 10 minutes of that, she started sounding like an annoying summer camp counselor. she kept telling me that my size shouldn't be any factor for me to learn how to swim. "hey, take a look at me, i'm big, but i can swim." lady, i wouldn't "look" at you even if my life depended on it. so after the first session, i quit.

:: ride the bike -- i know what you're thinking... "this dude is pathetic!" true. i know it seems pretty simple. but i can't. not without training wheels on 'em. i'm such a loser i know. hey, like i said, i'm the most uncoordinated guy i know. and in my 25 years of existence, i still have yet to find my balance. you should see me walk sometime. it's more of a wobble than a walk actually. but i can ride a skateboard and do a semi-decent ollie. bet not a lot of people can do that. ha!

:: fly a kite -- yep. can't do that too. maybe because of the trauma from the kite flying accident i had when i was a kid. i was five then. my mom made me a kite, so i thought i'd go outside and try it out. so i laid the kite on the ground, got a hold of the string, and started running for the little fucker to catch some air. too bad no one told me to run in an open field. five minutes after, my forehead was bleeding profusely, i hit a stone wall. stupid fuck!

:: jump rope -- they said that one of the best exercises to lose weight is to do daily rounds of jump rope. well boo the fuck hoo! i can't do that either. everytime i try, i always end up on the floor like a messy plate of bolognese spaghetti. i sure do look like a big meatball entwined with string. besides, jump rope is harmful for the knees and ankles. i have fuckin' marshmallow ankles. they're just that soft.

well, i think i've embarrassed myself quite enough. so how 'bout you, what mundane thing/s can you not do?

i'm out.

suicide notes

suicide notes are so fucking overrated!

yeah you heard me. they're so fucking overrated. if you want to kill yourself then get a gun and get it over with you dipshit. don't exit the world with a poorly written, lameass suicide note trying to say goodbye to everybody and making them guilty because you messed up your life. don't go leave your pathetic excuse on top of the dinner table written on a yellow paper and written with a no. 2 mongol pencil. try to have some class for chrissakes! if you really must write a suicide note, then at least have the decency to write it with a parker. pussy.

wait a minute. did i just say get a gun and get it over with? whoa! i'm sorry, that's lame. if you really must go, then i suggest you go out in style. going out in style doesn't mean taking your own life through conventional means. i have this cousin who tried to kill himself a few years back just because he was wrongfully accused of stealing his boardmate's watch. what a pussy. he left a stupid (and a really fuckin' hilarious one at that) suicide on top of his lamp table. he was struggling with his english, and still he thought writing his suicide note in english would double the guilt his boardmate would feel upon seeing his cold lifeless body sprawled all over the bathroom floor. really stupid.

anyway, his failed suicide was a classic case of an exercise in futility. first, he brought a cheap blade that he'd use to cut his wrist. seeing that he was too pussy to go through the bloody process, he took a dull bread knife and proceeded to mutilate his wrist. the result, he had scratches. still, he was determined to kill himself. afterall, he did write a "masterpiece" of a suicide note, and he wasn't in the mood for all of that to go to waste. he then went to the bathroom and started to drink zonrox clorox. shit. so the poor guy wanted to bleach his guts. stupid. after taking the first sip, he realized how clorox burns his tounge so much. so he went back to his room and finally decided to finish up a third of a bottle of a fake calvin klien perfume. that did it. no he didn't die. after drinking the cheap perfume, he cried so hard that his boardmates heard him. they broke into his room, saw the empty ck bottle, a dull bread knife and his red and blue wrist, and rushed him to the hospital. the stupid gnome survived. when i arrived at the hospital, i wanted to strangle him myself. i was so embarrassed when they asked me at the nurses' station if i was related to him. i had to make some lame excuse that he was the son of my daughter's nanny or something. stupid motherfucker.

anyway, if you want to kill yourself, then kill yourself like a man. why not try any of these:

:: eat a tub of beans -- you'll need (a) a tub and (b) enough beans to fill that tub. then just dig in you chunky son of a bitch! eat until you can't eat anymore. then eat some more. and by the time you shit yourself, your guts will rupture and you'll die.

:: strangle yourself -- not hang yourself, strangle yourself! you'll need your hands. then apply an extra strong choke hold on your neck. do this at around 3:30 in the morning. when your body loses enough oxygen, you'll pass out and wake up at the hospital. by this time, one of the doctors, obviously having not enough sleep, will get so pissed he'll strangle you himself then he'll write up a report that you were dead upon arrival. sweet!

:: hold your breath -- similar with strangling yourself. step 1: hold your breath. step 2: wait for fifteen minutes. step 3: if you're reading this, then you have failed. repeat steps until successful.

:: razor blade -- no this is not conventional because you won't use the blade to cut your wrist. you have to cut your neck instead. just make sure you go all the way through the spinal column.

:: the scooper -- get an ice scream scooper and your favorite ice cream flavor. scoop your eyes out. replace eyeballs with generous servings of your favorite ice cream. then proceed to kill yourself with any of the suggestions above.

:: headbutt the sidewalk -- step 1: slam your head into the sidewalk. step 2: repeat.

and finally...

:: lick a hooker's ass -- this one's for those who want to die really slow. look for a very cheap hooker, about forty bucks. then ask her to bend over and lick her ass for several times until your tounge gets numb. then drink a bottle of coke. wait for several months for the aids to kick in. then wait for several months before your funeral.

that's it for now. remember, no matter how much shit happens in your life, it's your suicide, have fun with it. and please.. for the love of god... don't ever, ever, ever leave a suicide note.

i'm out.