um, yeah

i'm slacking off at work, so i open up notepad and start typing nonsense. i end up with this

the blade glistens even under the dim light emitted from the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. i can feel sweat seep out from the pores in my palm and onto the cheap plastic handle of the blade. i stare at the blade, unable to take my eyes off the point that bounces light off it.

a small bead of sweat forms on my forehead. Before long, it slowly starts to trickle, encouraged by gravity as it gathers more moisture from my face. i feel it, but i do not wipe it off. it travels down to my chin, lingers there for a split second, then breaks off and drops onto the blade.

i move the blade onto my pants and wipe all moisture off it. i take a deep breath, raise it up high and pause for a second or two at it's apex. i close my eyes, gather myself and bring the blade down with all my might.

i'm not crazy. really.

stuck

feel like i'm stuck. not really moving forward in any aspects of life. labor through the days, but the weeks, months seem to fly by without pause. things are still as they were a week, a month, a yr ago.

life is flat lined right now. just going through the daily motions. no real direction, no real goal, no real passion. at my age, i should have already gotten some sense of direction in life, but no, i still feel like a fucking college kid, living day to day, waiting to get out to the real world. only i'm already in the fucking real world.

i need some motivation. need something to inspire me. need a change of scenery. need to find a passion. fuck if i know what i need.

god damn it. i'm fucking dying inside.

karate kid

according to a chat on washingtonpost.com, there are fellow peeps out there that use their feet to flush the damn toilet.

ok. i know weird. come on, i'm card carrying weirdo. but using your feet to flush? i'm speechless. so naturally, i thought of technique next. how does one flush with feet? i mean, think of the core stability one needs to balance and exert force. the only way i can imagine is

and you'd have to bring your feet down slowly. i mean, you're trying to flush, not bust the whole water tank. anyways, enough about the karate kid kick.

i mean, how fucking scared of everything do you have to be to actually use your feet? i still can't get over it. sure, i use tp as a buffer between my hands and the handle. and i thought i was being overly paranoid.

pretty soon everyone's gonna be a fucking bubble boy. then i'll go around busting people's bubble like pimples on my ass.

bitter

i need new fucking friends. friends who actually have some respect for things.

logically, i know i'm over-fucking-reacting, but for some reason, it's pissing me off way way more than it really should.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

dinner is served

for once, i have some real food at home. i hit my head on sunday and actually cooked some soup and rice.

so it's tuesday, and it's 8ish. figured i'll eat some dinner while watching porn, i mean the world series. i heat up the soup on the stove, and scooped out the rest of the rice from the rice-cooker into a bowl. into the microwave it goes for a minute.

it dings. soup's heated, rice is ready. yay! i bring it out, spread everything out and dive in.

spoiled, rotting rice tastes suprisingly sweet. fuck.

who's game

blonde redhead concert on december 03.

which sucker wants to go?

format c:\

i need to format it. too much fucking junk on there.

need to start with a fresh clean drive.

freak

3 hr sleep, red eye flight, jet lag, slowing down at the beginning of the race. all that and you still finish over 2 mins ahead.

fucking freak

sucking in air

i just made the last turn and now i see the damn balloons, so naturally i think i'm super-fucking-man and start sprinting. there's a couple of people in front of me, and i figured i might catch up with them.

halfway in, my tar filled lungs are burning like there's no tomorrow. and i start to question the finish line etiquette : do you just chill? or do you try to cut in front of people? will it be rude? i mean, it's not like we're fighting for 1st place. at this point, it's about 25 mins after the first person crossed the line. either way, i decide to chill a bit. just take it easy and live to run another day.

all of a sudden, i hear f'ing footsteps behind me. apparently there's no runner's etiquette at the finish line. so now all i'm thinking about is "i can't let people pass me at the finish line!!!" so i turn on my high powered superjets and force myself to move again. i think that's when this picture was taken.

they didn't pass me at the end. so i win. i am the bestest.

dreams

i don't dream much. at least i don't remember much if i do dream regularly.

the one prevelent dream throughout my life has been one of falling off the edge of a tall building. not quite sure what that really means. haven't had that one recently though.

i don't even remember the last dream i had.

i wish i had more dreams. dreams have none of the restrictions of reality. physics didn't matter. geography didn't matter. reality didn't matter. one second you could be here, and the next there. you could do anything you wanted to, and somehow it all made sense while you were in it. you knew it wasn't really possible, wasn't real, but yet it was alright.

i like that sense of knowing things weren't possible, real, but it happening somehow.

i guess i can always dream of dreaming.

priceless

Registration fee the 10k race (for 2) : $50.00

Gatorade carbohydrate gel packs (x2) : $2.00

long sleeve adidas clima-cool shirt : $40.00

crossing the finish line, completing your first race with a buddy and not coming in last : priceless

math

9 + 3471 = null.

unresolved problem
what cannot be is still such
sad, but still trudge on

if i wanted you to know

i'd tell you.

just because i don't, it doesn't mean i'm in "my mood" again.

so fuck you.

take a backseat, kevin bacon

if you were asian, there'd only be 3 degress of separation max.

it's insanely crazy how small the damn circle is around here. so after trying various sites, posting naked pictures of myself and not getting any replies, i found another site. so, being the retard that i am, i decided to go ahead and sign up.

i'm browsing the sections, thinking to myself, cool, a whole network of people not in the circle. i see a chick, click for info, and then i see a whole bunch of people in the friends list that i know. holy fucking shit.

i hate this place.

world domination step 1

watch out, paul tergat.

i'm running my first race (10k) this sunday, thanks to a friend who shall remain nameless that's arriving at the airport at 6:30am (that's 6:30 in the morning on a fucking sunday, people).

i've always used the "can't wake up earlier than the church people" as an excuse not to sign up for these things, but since i have to get up early this time, might as well run the race. should be fun. hope i don't lap the field, since i'm all that and a sack of potatoes.

so if you're one of those church people, feel free to drop by and cheer me on before heading out to church.

i'll be the one in the pink tutu.

ahahahahahah

currently listening to
"where is my mind" - the pixies
which is so right it's scary.

i've been thinking. how are you supposed to laugh on the internet?

laf, lol, heh, hah, hehehehe, ahahahahah. which one's correct? let's break it down.

laf and lol isn't actually laughing. it's describing the laughing. it's like you telling me a joke, and instead of cracking up, i go "laughing out loud". kinda weird, huh?

heh and hah are close. but it's only 1 snort. maybe you'd offend the person on the other side of the conversation. "what, my joke's not funny? i only get one fucking lousy snort? well, you ain't getting no head anytime soon." see what i mean? it can be highly dangerous if misinterpreted.

so you say, sure, just tack on more sylabuses to the laughter and make it hahahaha or hehehehe. what if the person breaks it down like so : hah- ah - ah- ah- ah or heh- eh - eh - eh? it could very easily turn into an orgasmic moan instead of laughter. that would tell the person on the other end that you're a sex addict and you're touching yourself right now.

so there. no perfect way to laugh on the internet. personaly, i like the 'ahahahaha'. and yes, i'm touching myself right now.

reflection

let's just say i didn't know who wrote the previous post.

1) whoever wrote it is such an anal retarded (not anal-retentive. if i wanted to say anal retentive, i'd write anal-retentive. i mean anal retarded. yes. retarded. like you) person.
2) take a chill pill, dumbass.
3) this dude's got serious issues.

but i DO know who wrote it, so none of the above is true.

public service announcement

if all you mere mortals don't take to heart any of my previous morsels of wisdom that i give to you out of the kindness of my heart, please take what i am about to say seriously. i beg of you.

chew with your fucking mouth closed.

please, for the love of god (or whatever's out there), shut your trap when you're chewing. may it be gum, big mac or fruits. no one wants to fucking hear your lips smack together with your nasty disgusting stinky ass saliva.

i repeat : CHEW WITH YOUR FUCKING MOUTH CLOSED.

*this public service announcement has been brought to you by Friends who can't stand fuckers who chew with their mouths open.

quasi-intellectual

the more i read random blogs, the more inferior i feel. everyone, and i do mean everyone, has a catchy description of their blogs. not like "this is my blog. i write everyday shit.". everyone's a fucking philosophical intellectual genius whatever when it comes to that. it's always

"musings of a dead body left to rot in a train wreck"
or
"words of pulp squeezed from a fresh ripened orange"
or
"drowning without excuse from a world of dog shit"
or
"simple for the sake of simplicity"

man, i feel so bad for my poor blog for having no catchy, thought-inducing, stimulating title.

maybe i should describe mine as
"daily droppings of a squirrel swimming in the abyss of a cesspool".

i feel so intellectual now.

my love

come back, kitty. come back.

one cool cat

aren't pictures a funny thing? a snapshot of our history, a moment frozen in the annals of time. whenever we look at it, we can generally remember what was going on at that period of time in our lives.

december 31, 2000. life was much more simple back then. money for rent, money for food. whenever you had both, you were one happy person. the possibilities in the future were endless, we thought.

apparently back then i thought crotch shots were pretty cool too. that and not washing my jeans for over a year.

damn i was cool back then.

zzz

had dim sum for lunch, came back and laid there on the couch, watching the 'skins get their balls handed to them. i was passing out for short intervals and before i knew it, the game was over.

I felt hungry, so i sat up and saw the leftovers box from dim sum sitting there. i knew i didn't put it in the fridge for a reason. i was too lazy/sleepy to walk to the kitchen to grab some utensils, so i sat up and shoveled the leftovers into my mouth with my hands before passing out on the couch again.

after a while, i woke up, stumbled upstairs and somehow got into bed. mind you, this all happened while it was still light outside. i think i finally woke up somewhere around 9.

you know what's crazy? somewhere between all those naps, i somehow managed to watch "sweet home alabama" 3 times.

i may have just confirmed that chick flicks make me drowsy.

starbucks

i'm sitting outside starbucks. 4 tables in total, 3 of them taken. i sit at the only vacant table. a couple with 2 loud annoying kids are next to me. i would emphasize that they were loud and annoying, but i digress.

anyways, i pull out a cigarette and was about to light it up when i suddenly realized that there are 2 kids at the next table. i started thinking, "should i be smoking next to these kids? will they get cancer in 50 yrs just because they inhaled some second hand smoke ages ago?" it's not like i'm a considerate person by any stretch of the imagination, it just felt weird. so i sat there, pretending to be reading my book, unlit cigarette dangling from my lips, debating. i must have sat there, fucking talking to myself in my head for about 5 mins when i detected the smell of cigarette smoke in the air.

i looked over and saw the lady with the 2 kids smoking at the table.

i wonder when i'll quit smoking.

charm

talking to a friend tonight. somehow, we came upon the topic of charm. he's got so much charm it's oozing out of his pores. how else can one explain all the admirers he acquires? certainly not to his looks.

that got me thinking. since i have no admirers, thus i must be lacking in the charm department. therefore, on the way home, i stopped by Giant to see if i could pick up some charm-in-a-bottle. alas, they were out. so here i am, still charmless (is that even a word? am i becoming g.w?) and tired.

i guess i'll just have to rely on my good looks.