Johnny's World

one flew over Iraq's nest

2008-09-02T10:58:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure I'm going to Iraq...

Off to Chennai in two days

2008-08-26T00:00:00.000-07:00

Headed out to Chennai, India in a couple of days. This is going to be the furthest I have ever traveled. Going to interior China is one thing, I speak the language. Going to India is something that I never thought I would do willingly.

And for 3 whole weeks?!?!

Maybe I'll see about getting a side trip to see the Taj Mahal...

Today

2008-08-14T14:36:00.001-07:00

Is Hot...

Panda Car

2008-06-20T23:32:00.000-07:00

Spotted this Panda car when I was touring around near Changsha, Hunan Province, China.

HP's Anti-Scientific Calculator

2008-06-12T12:25:00.000-07:00

I saw a post on Engadget about these new HP calculators and thought...man, that's gonna be a bitch when it comes time to change batteries - ten screws?

Aside from that, I thought it looked pretty cool and wondered where I might score one or two of them.

What do you know? I got two today. It feels hefty, seems well built, comes with a hole for a lanyard (not sure why) and has a magnetic strip in the back so I can stick it to my fridge.

The best part? No reverse polish notation!!! I hated those RPN calculators with a passion. Not only were those unintuitive, what with the "enter" key - there is no "enter" in math!

Maybe it was because when I was taking calculus my friend handed me his HP calculator and watched me unable to make a simple multiplication.

I think I'll keep one, and regift the other one when I can't be bothered to go out and buy something meaningful...

Oh yeah, this thing can't even do square root, which means the crappy little key ring calculator I got sometime ago is functionally more complete.

But hey, the HP looks nicer on my desk...

Applying the Same Stanards

2008-06-05T01:30:00.000-07:00

Well, my man Obama won the Democratic nomination. I was for the guy before I was ever against him. People tell me he is for gun control but I've yet to hear to much about it just now. I doubt my AK and 75 round drum will be seized any time soon, and I'm comforted with the protection of my good Glock 17 and a couple of loaded 17 round clips.

Being not into politics so much, I have only a couple of rules. I apply them as I do with my every day life. When the Dodge and Chevy both turned out to be crap, I go and read Consumer Reports to see what popular opinion has to say about is the next good car. A Honda, by this time.

Some of my friends and co-workers say this is shallow and uninformed. I simply ask how informed really is everyone else. While everyone claims an uncle who had a Silverado that refused to die in harsh Montanan horse hauling conditions, more people say that Bush and McCain are simple not cutting it. I'm giving the new purchase a chance.

A co-work confronted me about Barak and McCain, stating how Obama has perhaps, all these ties to Chicago mafia business and such. I respond that these are far fetched guesses and dismissed outright. He then said much about associations to his pastor and radical black leaders of the like of Frarakkahn (don't like him, so spelling don't matter) and maybe he is dangerous. Still, I said it's an association, not the man.

I have plenty of friends who do illicit drugs and do shady non-lawful things. I'd hate to be judged by who I may have gone to a party with.

I had only this to ask my co-worker - didn't McCain cheat on his wife when she was in dire need of being partially paralyzed and then divorce her to marry into his current, extremely wealthy wife?

The response I got was that being a prisoner of war in Vietnam has can mess anyone up, and most of those guys had similar problems. To mark this, my co-worker's father was in the same camp with John McCain and did not do too well after he was released.

While I understand the pain, I had to ask; if the he knew right from wrong, despite of what he has been through, should he not be held accountable for what he has done, regardless of what he has gone through? That is the true test of character.

Well, the time McCain was POW messed him up - was the response I got. Shoot, by that reasoning a POW can't do the right thing by his wife, do we want him running the country that leads the rest of the world?

Admittedly, I'm no expert in the candidates. All I know is that either makers has made me happy for the last several years, and it seems that everyone likes how the new model handles. By that logic, and the logic that the Honda Civic has replaced the Ford F series as the best selling vehicle in the US (F series has the top honor for the past 15 years), I think it's time I made a change myself.

Jay Leno in Shanghai

2008-05-28T12:05:00.000-07:00

Went to the Shanghai Museum last month to poke around all the ancient artifacts. There is a room full of Chinese calligraphy and paintings, a room for wooden (and seemingly very uncomfortable) furniture, and masks, thousands of masks. Stone, wood, and metal statues are all over the place.

Then I turn the corning and run into a statue of Jay Leno.
(if the pic don't work, Google Jay)

Why the ancient Chinese dedicated a whole stone slab to his chinness, I don't know.

But it sure was a surprise...

Heh heh... Chinese, chinness...

Devil's Threeway

2008-05-12T02:19:00.000-07:00

Note: If you don't know what a Devil's Threeway is (normally said whilst forming a fist, with the index and pinky fingers extended, like if you were at an Ozzy concert), look it up via Google, or find your latest Two And A Half Man episode.

I recall a few years ago when a friend of mine called me out for a beer. When I got there he was somewhat reclusive in a corner, sipping a beer with a near empty pitcher near by. I asked him what was up, how was it going, sat down, and ordered another pitch of beer with a new glass.

Noticing his demeanor, I asked what was wrong. He was a bit reticent with any information, so I thought I sit through until the beers worked up his courage.

Few pitchers of beers later, and he had this to say.

"I had a threesome about three weeks ago."

"That's great!" Said I.

But given the fact that the normal high five and congratulatory celebration didn't immediately occur after such statement, I realized there must have been a catch.

"Ummm..." I stammered, "Was it with two fat chicks?"

Silence.

"Two ugly chicks?"

Silence.

"Two fat and ugly chicks?"

No response, but he took a big gulp of beer, enough that I had to refill his glass.

"One fat, one ugly, both over the age of fifty who have given birth to enough kids and you didn't get to touch sidewall?"

That got a jilt.

"No." Said my friend. "It was with XXXXX." (The X's represent another friend's name, which is...a nother guy.)

True story.

This got me thinking as I was out talking about the Devil's Threeway with Rich and Matt over the weekend.

In what case would this be something to cross of a man's list before he meets his optimal end?

I mean, at the worst when two guys are doing a chick you are rubbing nutsack to nutsack, and at the least, you are looking at the naked sweating body of your buddy. Given that none of my friend's have a body hot enough that would even remotely turn me on, I have to say...

More beers please!!!

the taste of ear

2008-03-31T22:38:00.000-07:00

When a thirty something fully gown man decides to pierce his ear, and systematically enlarge said piercing with progressive larger rings, you're bound to have friends who will try to stick common everyday objects into said hole.

It's a thing we do. Some guys exercise restraint, resorting to their imagination and let that be enough to sate their curiosity.

Some people act on their impulses.

Guess what kind of friends Brian here has?

Before anyone comments on vaginal fixation, remember that some men would plug a leaking dam with their finger, some men go spelunking, I stick cigarettes in ear holes.

Notice filter end went in. This renders the cigarette unsmokeable as no sane member of the male gender would willing put their tongue inside a ear hole, much less wrap our lips around a cigarette that's been in an ear hole.

No, it takes a special kind of man to do such a deed. The special kind that didn't know where the cigarette has been.
The very special man was pictured, ready to take a punch when the photo was taken, after the big reveal.

Dave was a true hero. He put his man lips around the butt end of the ear hole cigarette and sucked with vigor as I put a flame to his face. The enthusiasm rivals any meth addled hobo around the streets of Portland. A true artist.

Of course, Dave eagerness went dim right fast when the entire bar exhilarated with laughter. The restraint up until the point of first inhalation of ear hole smoke was too much, and Dave, being no fool, realized he's wrapped his mouth around the wrong pole.

So in the end, the cigarette was lit, puff on twice, and went undesired in the ash tray. I had thought about recycling it when my pack ran out, but I had just enough money to go across the street and buy a new pack.

meet Ginger, our new puppy

2007-12-22T01:47:00.000-08:00

Our new puppy Ginger!!!

Picked her up on December 21st, 2007. Healthy little girl Golden Retriever. Had to choose a name between Ginger, Lucy, or Belle... Ginger won out. She looks like a ginger bread cookie.

Johnny, The Pro-Feminist

2007-12-06T22:42:00.000-08:00

I remember watching some feminists on TV some time ago. These women, after tirelessly fighting for voting rights, equal pay, pregnancy without men, and causing 9/11 (Pat Robertson said it, not I), is now fighting to take back history.

Not the fact that most great historical political leaders, such as Ghengis Khan, Napoleon, Alexander the Great, Sun Tsu, George Washington, Julius Cesar, Adolf Hitler, or either one of the George Bush's were men, nor the fact that most historical religious leaders, such as any one of the Popes, the prophet Mohammad, Jesus, or Buddha were also men.

No.

They want the word changed.

History, as they say, is His-story. Therefore the word is a word of contempt. A 'five-across-the-eye' if you will. The A2M of the English language. And it ought to be Herstory.

Well boy howdy. I didn't create the word, I only learned it. I'm sure there is a whole Germanic/Latin/Greek root where some out of work English History major can disseminate the absurdity of this demand, but I'm not so insensitive.

I'm an enlighten man. And I demand you take the whole lot of them. Here are some suggestions I have carefully prepared for you.

HYSTERECTOMY - Hey, it sounds like its "his", bit it really is "hers". Plus I'm sure no man posses an organ called "terectomy", but it does sound mighty close to "erectomy". Maybe if you get one of these men lose the "erectomy" for you. Maybe we just lose it if you talk about it too much - you know, what with the skyrocketing cost of medical procedures these days.

HISPANIC - No se habla. But you might want to unite the latina's crossing the border with their babies strapped on their backs that it is high time they take over what is rightful due them - the name of their kind! Why is it 'his' 'pan'? You are the ones doing the cooking, not him! And you are the one who does the 'panic' while he just says, "oh well, more tequila for me."

HISTAMINES - The wonder drug that calms irritating sinus, throat, and bowels. I am sure you know the 'he' certainly don't calm anything without your constant reminder. Like the old saying, behind every man, there is an irritating woman.

HISTOGRAM - The technique that let great engineers and mathematicians understand the historical (sorry, herstorical) frequency distribution of a problem space over a period of time has alway paled in comparison to what women has been doing naturally over the past millennium. Remember the last fight you had with your man? Who was the one that brought up every little detail of every little perceived affront against your refined sensibilities? Who was the one that invoked every little fault or imperfections of the past ten years? Women were built for histograms - ladies - it is HERSTOGRAM fo' sho'!

MANDATORY - Mowing the grass, taking out the garbage, change the diaper, going to work, be more sensitive, political correctness...were never a part of any man's repertoire. This is rightfully yours to take back. Make it 'womandatory" and no confusing dictionary definition will be required. Hey, it'll save a few paragraphs in the Webster, and in turn it'll save a few trees. You will be doing the world a service.

HYSTERIA - Most men don't fly into it, most often it is the womenfolk. 'Hersteria' is easier to explain to the neighbors why my refrigerator is in the front lawn, and to the kids why daddy has to pack up and live in a motel for a few days.

MANIAC - See above.

MANDRILL - If you are a dyke, this word will make no sense unless you are talking about a shiv. As a man, stay away 'cuz any mandrill is just plain wrong sounding. Take it. It's a freebie.

MANICURE - Because this is just misleading.

MANSION - You want to live in one, and we only want to get one in order to fill it with your kind. Lets be honest here, there is only one motivation why this word even existed. Yours.

MANIFOLD - Unless we are talking about cars, this is all you.

MANIPULATE - Yours. This won't even be a challenge.

MANNERS - Burping and farting at the dinner table was never restricted by a bunch of guys. In fact, we make games out of who can eat a head of broccoli and pass gas the fastest.

MANUAL - Face it, we men never read it. You know this is true. If a woman is like a book, then a man would only thumb through pages as fast as they can to get to the end.

And ladies, don't forget to celebrate the words that has been eternally attributed to you! These words we men do not dare to ask the world to recant, nor do we ask to take back. You have quietly bore the burden and the likeness of these words, and we rejoice in your silent solemntude.

HERPES - All men know it is not 'hispes' because we know that's not where it comes from. It comes from her pees, or her mouth, or her whatever. You keep this, and our girlfriends and wives need never know. Simply, 'heranus' just doesn't make medical sense.

HEARST - Because this is eventually where you put us.

HERBS - This is what you use in the kitchen.

HERBIVORE - We eat meat. All other vegetarian or vegans are effeminate men, monks, or are doing so to score with you.

HERESY - We do it because Eve originated sin. It's in the Bible.

HERMAPHRODITE - The Greek goddess we would all like to hit. And face it, even for a clinical one, some of us would still hit it.

HERMETICAL SEAL - It is what we wish for. It it what you lose eventually.

HERMIT - What we give up to become.

HERMIT CRAB - What we hope to avoid.

See, there are plenty of words we, as men, would gladly fork over. There are plenty of words out there in the English language that celebrate the female. Let us all rejoice in this harmony, and let us never fight.

Dick...Spotted...

2007-11-16T13:58:00.001-08:00

Found across the aisle from the Mexican food section in Fred Meyer's, in the newly established British food section.

Chalk that for something I'm not eager to put in my mouth.

My Halloween Cheering Section

2007-10-31T10:46:00.000-07:00

These are my people... They stare at the back of my head as I slave away at work, silently praising my me for the effort...

Happy Halloween

2007-10-31T09:41:00.000-07:00

No I'm nowhere near the picture. But my friend Oscar is. Guess which one?

Here is a hint -

He's the one sporting the Ron Jeremy 'stache.

But that could be a left over smeared up bean burrito on his lips.

Chengdu hot pot...again

2007-10-09T02:08:00.000-07:00

So it was that I get invited to our newly wed Mitch and Mei's place for some Chengdu style hot pot. Chengdu, when I was there in the midst of China, they were raising a marble statue of Chairman Mao, and I was questioning my friend's fidelity. But this time, its different. It's Sichuang cooking (all that super hot red stuff which both numbs and kills all tastes in your mouth) in the states. Yay.

But that's not the story here... The story is the day after.

After I over ate the completely delicious hot pot on Sunday, I had to have more. Good thing Mei gave me a whole packet of Sichuang Hot Pot base for my eventual enjoyment.

This is the packet of Chongqing Hot Pot Soup base. It makes the soup completely threateningly red as to make all jalapeños posers cry out for mama.

And that enjoyment is... now!!!

Yes. 24 hours later, I had to have some. And here is the initial results before I put anything else into the pot.

Red like the guy from Charlie Daniel's band when he went to Georgia.

And i had to put in a bunch of met and veggies to make it edible. Even then an entire 2 liter bottle of diet Coke went down with my meal.

The leftover is vicious looking as well.

I tossed in a bunch of bean noodles, mushrooms, and some chicken broth to tame the heat. Because, after all, going over 8 large sheets of Brawny for the sweat just isn't worth it.

I'm looking at the finished product. A few beef and fish balls floating on top, and it is going to make a wonderful meal come Tuesday at lunch.

Ma-La Hot Pot 3 days in a row...

Beer bust @ work

2007-09-13T14:47:00.001-07:00

We had a beer bust at work from noon to 3. It's good to get out of the cubicle and sit outside, watching middle aged people mill about, sipping on free booze, and taking a break from their otherwise go-nowhere deadend jobs thats bound for Southeast Asia.

I didn't partake in the drinking, which surprised a few folks. Probably because I don't like to stop once I stop. Letting me drink for a few hours and then yank away the taps is like foreplay and penetration, but no movement allowed. It would be worst than Guantanamo ran by Uday and Qusay.

Anyhoo I did talk the server to make me a nice little Philly cheese sandwich. It resembles nothing like Philly, I'm pretty sure contained no cheese, and did not come in the form of a sandwich.

When asked "How much cheese sauce would you like?"

I said "How about enough so we don't see the color of the meat?"

It's 2:53. I'm still eating it.

Ammonia Chloride in My Mouth

2007-08-15T11:29:00.000-07:00

I bought a variety pack of Lakerol Sugarfree Pastilles on the way back from Norway. There is the Salt Lakris and Xena (like the warrior princess) flavors, which I remember fondly of putting in my mouth and spitting out while in Oslo. There is the Original flavor, which is a bit minty, and reminds the palette of a slightly less sweet Ricola.

Then there is this Salmiak thing. The taste is a cross of a spoonful of MSG, a chunk of urinal cake, all infused in a Bill Cosby colored gelatin, imprinted with Captain America's symbol.

Everyone at work who tried it has spit it back out within seconds. Couple of them did so violently that I have little dried up pieces of pastilles permanently bonded to my desk. Its kind of gross - when I type and move my elbow, I can run into some of these salmiak bumps.

I looked up Salmiak on Wikipedia. Turn out Salmiak is made from Ammonium Chloride. Unlike Sodium Chloride, which is common table salt, this stuff is more akin to pee.

Yum. Salted pee.

Guess I wasn't too off when I though these tasted like salted urinal cakes. I just didn't know it was used salted urinal cakes.

work hours

2007-07-23T13:34:00.000-07:00

This is the whiteboard outside of my 10x8 cubicle. The writing appeared one day of my official work hours. I don't know who did it, but it originally said:

Official Work Schedule: 10am - 2pm.

I thought it was cute, and added:

(lunch 11:30 - 1:30).

Few days go by, and this appeared:

Mon - Thur.

Then today, this:

Odd weeks only.

Stop writing on my whiteboard, even if it is true.

The Cashier sign was from a Sherri's years ago... I think we were drunk or something.

The little sign under my name reads:

"Warning: Keep out of reach of children. Consume one drop at a time with extreme caution."

It was from a hot sauce.

M&M Wedding, me officiant

2007-07-23T00:02:00.000-07:00

Congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Mitch and Mei Greene. Wed on Friday, July 20, 2007, approximately 11:15 AM, at Oregon's International Rose Test Garden.

I, yep, officiated and solemnized the ceremony.

What started as a thumbing of the nose at my old boss's going to seminary school to become a missionary turned out to be the joining of my friends in the lovely garden of roses.

It was a bit of work to come up with the words, and I have to admit that my knees were shaking a bit when we started. But it turned out well. The weather was leaking a bit, but when we started all rain disappeared. It was as it should be. Everything went without a hitch.

What did bother me a bit is, aside from the 20 or so people attending (much more at the reception), there were another 20 or so spectators. Strangers who just wanted to see a wedding at the garden. Couple of them were taking photos. One of them video taped the whole thing.

Who happens upon wedding and film the thing in entirety?

I had wrote a couple of different scripts lasting from 5 minutes, 15 minutes, to about 30 minutes. We went with the middle version. I had a version that spoke of marriage only in fiscal responsibility and legal (pros and detriments) terms, but that was deemed not appropriated by everyone.

It was good. I wish the best for Mitch and Mei.

---
Mei & Mitch's Wedding

WELCOME

Dearest friends and family of Mei and Mitch, today is a day of celebration and thanksgiving. We are here to witness the commitment that Mei and Mitch have made to each other. As each of you has given something of yourself into their lives, each of you has a role to play in this marriage. Mei and Mitch greatly appreciate your love and support, not only today, but as you go forth from here into your individual lives. Marriage is also a time for each of us to renew our own commitments of love, so it is our hope that you will all find meaning and renewal in this celebration of love.

STATEMENT OF MARRIAGE

Mei and Mitch come together from different backgrounds and experiences. In the covenant of marriage, they do not leave those behind, but instead build on them to broaden the circle of love in this world. Their pledge to be a family and their confidence in the future brings them before us today.

Marriage is also a time to enjoy. Remember to do the simple and beautiful things that will make your love a treasure: play together; fight productively; communicate effectively with each other; make time for and enjoy what is important to both of you; treat each other as equals, being respectful and loyal along the way. Live in the lives of each other, feeling the other's joy and troubles as if they were your own. Remember that love is to be nurtured, to be lived out to the fullest-- in the simple activities of shared daily life, in realized hopes and long deferred dreams, in a quality of emotional exchange and spiritual communion toward which your whole life has been leaning.

EXCHANGE VOWS

Mitch, will you take Mei to be your wife? Will you honor and cherish her? Will you trust and respect her? Will you be her best friend, always there to listen and to offer support? Will you be dedicated to nurturing this relationship, to helping it grow, and to sharing the adventure of life? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others keep only to her as long as you both shall live?

Mei, will you take Mitch to be your husband? Will you honor and cherish him? Will you trust and respect him? Will you be his best friend, always there to listen and to offer support? Will you be dedicated to nurturing this relationship, to helping it grow, and to sharing the adventure of life? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others keep only to him as long as you both shall live?

EXCHANGE RINGS

[Mitch]

With this ring, I pledge my life to you, my constant faith, my eternal love. It is with this ring that I marry you today and forever.

[Mei]

With this ring, I pledge my life to you, my constant faith, my eternal love. It is with this ring that I marry you today and forever.

ANNOUNCEMENT

Mei and Mitch, you have declared your love and solemn vows to one another in the presence of your family and friends; I now pronounce you husband and wife.

*sob*

Aass Beer...a dedication of Ass to Mouth

2007-07-13T13:20:00.000-07:00

"Man this beer tastes like Ass!"

That is common expression of a beer that has been sitting in my garage for a few years, enduring alternate seasons of heat, humidity, and cat urine. The skunky flavor of said beer often elicit the above exclamation.

Although I never knew what Ass taste like - where did the expression come from? Perhaps next time I should ask the if, indeed, I have created artificial Ass flavor.

Anyway I digress. In Norway, there is a beer named "Aass". Its close enough that between my child-like giggles I had to take pictures of it.

That was nice pair of Ass.

Below is pallet full of the stuff. To which I sighed and say:

"Man, that's a lot of Ass."

Here is an Aass up close and personal.

"It's Hauling Ass Beer!"

Your Ass on Ice.

Alright that's enough juvenile Ass beer fun. I swear, Tim drank so much of the stuff our friend Thor said he's never seen a man do so much Ass to Mouth.

Price of beer in Reykjavik, Iceland

2007-07-08T20:41:00.000-07:00

Click to enlarge. Exchange rate is about 60 ISK (Icelandic Kronor) to 1 USD. This makes most beers somewhere north of $10 dollars per pint.

I bought a 12 pack of Miller Lite in Boston, and it was $11.99.

Blue Lagoon of Iceland

2007-07-08T20:05:00.000-07:00

Ask anyone about Blue Lagoon and one might immediately conjure up images of a prepubescent Brook Shields frolicking in the summer sun on a clothing optional beach.

Ask me about Blue Lagoon and I will summon you a picture much different.

Sure, the water is blue, as seen in this unretouched photo. The weather is a bit cloudy, but sunny nonetheless. It is...well, quite beautiful.

No Brook Shields, however.

The problem is that the water is frigid. This is the Blue Lagoon of Iceland, outside of the capital Reykjavik. It is supposed to be a mixture of cold seawater and underground thermo pools that gives anyone who choose to bath in it an as yet undetermined medicinal boost.

Well, for that pool, you'll have to walk about another 100 meters and pay $35 US dollars. And it looks like this.

Very impressive, actually. Except that the water is more of an algae green than blue, and parts of the ground underwater is mushy. And the whole place smells like someone who ate two dozen hard boiled eggs and farted in a locked room with you in it two hours later.

The mushy ground is the sulfur sand. It is pure white in color, and people gather them with their hand and feet (water tends to get deep) and vigorously rub on their bodies. Many folks there sports a white face mask of said material. When asked if I will do the same, I said no. The mere idea of rubbing sulfur sand onto my body and face, of which was done previously by hundreds of thousands of others with who knows what ailments, made me dizzy.

Then I heard this woman next to me, as she entered the water.

"Ooooh. This will be so nice for my bunions!"

I left the pool after that.

whale watching...whale tasting

2007-07-04T02:46:00.000-07:00

Whaling is a controversial subject around the world. It at once is a greatest single mass of edible flesh grown on a mammal yet it is also noticed to be majestic, intelligent, and the larger, less cute cousin of tuna safe dolphins. Eating it, in many countries, would be unthinkable.

How lucky I am then to be at a country where whale serves both as a source of wonderment and as a protein alternative.

Picture to the left is whale sashimi , or whale caparccio, or as the menu called it, whale served Japanese style. In any case, it is a euphemism for raw meat. A bit of soy sauce and a dash of wasabi. They tossed in a few shrimps for decoration, and it was also untouched by fire.

The texture is quite similar to tuna sashimi. The meat is very tender. However I was a bit disappointed because there was no perceptible "whale" taste. Even without the soy sauce, the meat seemed cold and bland in my mouth. Perhaps next time there is a beached whale on the coast, I will go and lick it, just for confirmation.

The other way to cook whale is by application of heat and sauce. In this case, pictured to the right, whale steak with pepper sauce.

The meat is fork tender, and is deeply red. It reminds me more of ostrich meat than beef. It came with a side salad and boiled potatoes, a staple of Icelandic cuisine.

The sauce overpowers the already bland whale flesh. But it was good nonetheless. Probably not something that I would seek out again, and at $100US, wouldn't recommend it to family or friends.

It is, however, not legal in the United States and various other countries, and makes me feel like a rebel. Will my stool also be illegal when I get back? Good thing I have almost a week in Norway to make sure my system is clean.

Oh and I ran across this guy dressed in Eurotrash chic sponsoring Pepsi Max and burgers. What is Pepsi Max? As I understand it, "diet" is too feminine in these parts of the world, so calling it "Max" makes it more acceptable by both genders.

The guy creeps me out.

Cool American Doritos under the Midnight Sun

2007-07-02T16:47:00.000-07:00

Midnight. It's 12 AM. The sun is shining. Shining so much that a rainbow forms onto the base of Liefur Ericsson cathedral.

I look for a shovel, a hoe, anything to dig up the Leprechaun's Lucky Charms.

Near the cathedral is one of those smart toilets that after each use, disinfects and cleans itself. I promised Tim I would have befouled it so much that it would put the automated system at its limits, but I was thwarted by the simply fact that neither of us possessed the necessary 10 Icelandic Kronurs for it to open its inviting doors. I peed into the coin receptacle in retaliation.

That last part didn't really happen the way I wrote it. I put a piece of dog doo into the coin return slot instead.

The 24 hours of sun does a number to ones body. We didn't know when to eat, when to drink, and when to sleep. The hours just merge into one long day. Whereas I usually like to being my alcohol consumption near 9PM, we often find ourselves hoisting the first beer long after 11.

One particular evening Tim got might peckish. So off we go to the nearest 10/11 (yes, like the 7/11 state-side, Iceland's is 3 more) to score some water and chips. And there we found Cool Americans. That's right, Cooool Americans. Being Cool Americans ourselves, we bought a bag and hungrily tore into it. To our sloppy disappointment, the Icelandic representation of Cool Americans is a less salty, and thoroughly unflavorful ranch.

Next up... Whale meat and sulfuric tap water.

Iceland...

2007-07-02T16:30:00.000-07:00

How many people do I know that ventures to Iceland or Norway on their own free time? None so far. Not counting that Oslo, Norway is the most expensive city to visit, and that either country out performs the US economy, making my hard earned cash more resemble Mexican Pesos than the almighty greenback.

So when the desperate plea for a travel companion came from the East Coast, by ways of a Tim Balconi, I piqued and inquired as to the nature of the trip. Apparently there is something he needed doing in Oslo, and flying Iceland Air, one can choose to layover at Reykjavik for up to 72 hours with no discernable penalties. E-mails were sent, and one answered the call. That’s where my un-fortune began.

fig 1. ice floes somewhere between Greenland and Iceland. The guy who sat next to me was so large, my tray table will not level because his tummy flowed into my side.

It’s 3AM local time in Reykjavik on Saturday morning. Instead of finishing last call at an Icelandic pub or laid out in a drunk stupor, I’m parked, ass down, on a stainless steel bench with some random Spaniard using my leg as a pillow, logging this.

“See Iceland, land of fire and ice, 24 hours of sun, hydrothermal swimming pools!” “Then onto Oslo and kayak with ice flows in the fjords!” “Wouldn’t it be great?!”

Turns out, logistics of simply travel is harder than it seems. There is a reason why UPS, FedEX, EGL and others make huge profit shuttling one thing or another from one place or another. Booking travel from Boston to Reykjavik to Oslo and back should be no problem, just follow Tim’s itinerary. Of course he flies out at 9:30PM, and the only flight I can get leaves at 2:30. To get on the later flight results in a cost difference of 2000 of the aforementioned US dollars – more than I make in the same amount of time.

So here I sit, a little over 3 hours into the wait. A Spanish family is here waiting also. I took some pictures of the empty Iceland Air ticket counter, wheel about for another shot of the sunlit outside, and the uncle of the bunch puts a duffle bag next to my leg. Few minutes later, the duffle crumbles. Deep asleep, this gentleman scoots up a bit, and I’m watching a slowly developing grease spot on my left thigh, where his balding head is rubbing against.

Getting to Boston was no small feat either. Every airline wanted somewhere over $800 for the late booking. United outright blacked out the entire summer month, reducing my mileage as meaningless numbers. Alaska gave me a deal – for 40,000 miles, I can travel from PDX to SEA, then to BOS with a total of 14 hours of travel time. 17 on the way back. And that’s leaving two days before I need to. Somehow I got to use my Alaska miles with American Airlines, but at 50,000, with first class seating. Not bad. Except that I land in Logan at 1AM and no baggage in sight.

fig2. Somehow I don't think Tim's power outlet is up to code.

It was almost 2 AM when the cabby dropped me off at Timmy’s place. 3 people were asleep inside, and I was wide awake. I settle down, sneak my way into the kitchen via a very creaky (and needing of some work) wooden flooring, and find myself a six pack of beer. A bottle of Anejo Tequila sits empty on the table. Looks like I missed out. Around 4:30 I get to bed…only to be raucously woken up by Tim…at quarter to 7.

3 more hours to go. I planned for a side trip to the Iceland Blue Lagoon for some hot spring spa, before we go to our hotel. I hope this works out.

Iraqi tablecloth ragheads

2007-01-15T09:30:00.000-08:00

While reading the new online, I came across some people in the Middle East getting hanged. Turns out they are Saddam's friend/relative. As I read about how many Iraqi's does it take to make one of them dangle at the end of the rope, I realized why their killing is necessary.

Dumbasses wears tablecloth on their heads. Quick search on Google Image got me the exact same fabric these jokers put over their heads that we use for catching excess food falling from our overstuffed mouths.

Any culture that uses our napkin as a religious headdress is too stupid to exist. They don't now. We did good.

a night at the Seahawks

2007-01-07T21:53:00.000-08:00

I went to the Seahawks games yesterday because my friend Scott had season tickets and the last six people he called canceled. It's good to be the seventh in line. Seven is at the same time the number of deadly sins and cardinal virtues.

The two-and-a-half hour drive wouldn't normally be well over three hours. But Scott's driving tends to warp space-time in a way that unnecessarily prolongs the mundane. With the playoff game in sight, I can overlook the extended sit time in the old Bimmer (really, the radio doesn't work, defrost blows hot air full blast, windshield wipers make a grinding noise, steering is too light, and the check coolant light has been the permanent beacon that lights the interior).

We arrive at the parking garage and get urethra raped for $40. The GDP for one of those parking lots at a Hawk's game must exceed the decade total for Dafur. A brisk walk past Safeco Field, and we are at Qwest Field, home of the Seattle Seahawks.

The energy of the place is incredible.

We met with Ray and Kenny and a few others for a pre-game beer. A tall 20 ouncer costs $8. A foot long Seattle dog will deficit $9 from the wallet. It's the best beer and meat combo ever. Before I can get a picture of it, they were well on their way to become next morning's movement.

Time to go to our seats. Section 328, middle of the way up. I was at eye level with the flag when Trufant raised the 12th man banner.

The sound was deafening. I've been watching the games on HD for the entire season, but nothing prepared me for the noise of being there. The camaraderie of the fans are unbelievable as high-fives and hugs are generously given, provided you're not wearing Cowboy colors.

We had to climb the ramps to our section, and I quipped "Are we climbing the Everest here?" "Hey, if I have sex here, do I get into the mile high club?" The seats might put me into thin air, but the view of the field is excellent. Good thing I can tell who's playing by their numbers.

Throughout I have heard people expressing Tony Romo and the Cowboys sexuality. "Romo is a Homo!" One group chanted. "Brokeback Cowboys!" A sign read and the owner held it over his head. We're not in San Francisco anymore...

They were handing out Hulk colored knit gloves with the 12th man logo hot glued on. These are to resemble Deion Branch's signature catchers mitt, I presume. At any rate, they kept my beer cold and my hands warm.

We were under cover, and the vertical jumbo-tron displayed stats, replays, and fan participating games during game lulls. I always wondered what was going on while the commercials played. I know now.

Half time puts us on the field with Kenny for some more beers. Kenny invites us to go sit in the bleachers with him. These are cheaper seats than where we were, but offer better view. It doesn't have regular chairs (hard, aluminum benches) and is not under cover. It is the trapezoid section at the opposite end of the 12th man flag. Mighty nice of Ken, but I think there is a bit a guilt (he almost made Thanksgiving not happen in the Lee household by promising he's get me a new oven, and forget and never called back).

We march into the bleachers section to catch the start of the second half. The noise here is even louder. This section have a five year waiting period. Only die hard fans live here. There is no cover. We were in the wind tunnel to catch all the air from the bay. I remember watching a game played in miserable snow and rain where Bryant Gumble bitched the entire game between commentaries, and wondered how fanatic one has to be. Now, there I was.

The last 3 minutes were played directly in front of me. There the Hawks are at the end zone, defending their one point lead, with the Cowboys in the red zone. Fourth down at the Seahawks 1.5 yard line. We have a 1 point lead. A field goal would likely ended us. The stadium crescendos as the ball is snapped to Romo for the kick. Romo wobbles, picks up the ball, and runs left. A trick play? He edged into the end zone for a touchdown only to be stopped dead by three blue uniforms. Turnover.

We later find out that Romo bobbled the ball, and the kicker couldn't make the field goal so he had to run it. Alexander takes off for 20 or so yards to get us out of the red zone, and pretty much the end of the game.

The stadium get louder than ever.

The guy in front of me falls down while trying to high five people. Scott falls over to give a reach around to someone, manages to hang on to my left arm with a death grip (people his age probably suffer from osteoporosis and fear falling) that I realized gave me a nice bruise on my bicep.

My voice is slowing returning. My right ear has finally stopped ringing (because Kenny won't stop blowing his frigging duck call in my ear). You have to be in good shape, or well inebriated to attend a Hawk's game.

GO SEAHAWKS!!!

throat hurts from screaming at Qwest Field

2007-01-07T00:26:00.000-08:00

Went to the Seahawks game today to witness one of the most crazy playoff games. My throat hurts from screaming so much. In fact, I just realized that it hurts enough that I no longer want to be on my computer...

white nose hair?

2006-12-07T23:18:00.000-08:00

I pulled a pair of errant nose hairs that been tickling the insides of my favorite breathing hole.

One is jet black, as it should always be.

One is white, like Jesus, only less Jewish in color.

WTF?! Nose hairs can go white?

Vista on my Laptop

2006-12-05T00:44:00.000-08:00

I received the latest and greatest version of software from a Redmond, Washington based company called Microsoft a few days ago. The cutting edge operating system named Vista was sitting in front of my in the form of a DVD burned directed from their MSDN service.

Without regard for software compatibility or work impact, I install it. On my work laptop. The only lifeline that saves me from having to go into work at 5AM in the morning or stay past 7PM. It lets me log onto the work network so I can Netmeeting people from across both major oceans in the comfort of my home.

No more. Vista broke it. More accurately, I broke it. It's like cheating on a girlfriend who feeds you good food, takes you out to cool places, and makes sure you get back with your buddies for a nice round of beers in the evening with a ten dollar hooker from the streets of Manila.

Luckily my friend Brady is able to help me out. He sent me instructions on how to fix my little dilemma. Now I am forever indebted to him. I must make...amends.

This is why I have decided I will try and capture images of Brady and post them on my blog. Mainly because I have nothing else better to do.

So Brady, if you see me at work, duck. I have a 2 megapixel cameraphone that doesn't require a camera pass and I will be taking candid photos of you at work. I will do this until my passing interest is replaced with something less important.

Thanks for the help.

I hope its not festering...

2006-11-20T14:06:00.000-08:00

This is my burn after the blister popped. I'm not sure how the blister popped. All I remember was looking down at it and realized my little arm nipple was no longer there.

The skin underneath is white and tender. Poking it with a toothpick elicited more pain than normal skin. Neosporin is applied liberally.

I noticed it has developed a sheen over the popped blister. It is sticky, sap like to the touch. Platelets trying to seal the skin? I hope its not pus.

Well, if it is pus... I wonder if my doctor would do the maggot-on-flesh treatment that I saw on TV?

burn boy

2006-11-16T14:01:00.000-08:00

I was browning a pork tenderloin roast when the hot oil decided my arm is a better place to be. The blister grew to this size in less than 30 minutes.

I'm not sure what to do with it. I want to pop it with a toothpick. I get conflicting advice from people to either pop it or leave it along. Carolina said I should pop it and put toothpaste on it.

Now I'm just afraid I rub against something or someone.

The photo is taken with my Sony Ericsson W810i camera. At 2MP, this little cameraphone can almost replace the need for a real camera.

inimitable ofactory arousal lavatory @ Yamhill Pub

2006-10-22T00:54:00.000-07:00

City of Portland. Poised to re-invent itself as a world class metropolitan and the capital of microbreweries. Beer nazis wander the streets proclaiming to any who will listen that drinking PBR or Miller Lite is is akin to drowing oneself with MD 20/20 in the midst of Alsace.

It was surprising to find such a dive bar in the middle of down town, across from the fancy martini bar and club, H2O. Right across Yamhill from H2O is a small door with a neon lit window displaying signs that equate "beer", and cheap too.

Welcome to Yamhill Pub, the last dive bar in downtown Portland. 2$ pints on a Friday night with unpretentious fellow drinkers is a welcome retreat from the faux sofisticants littered few steps outside. The ambiance is dim. The bartender friendly. But how is the most important of facilities for those who would drink the weight equivalent of a newborn infant, the bathroom?

Well, have a look.

Two such facilities exist. One straight back of the bar, and the other after a 90 degree turn to the right. It's co-ed, but usually not at the same time.

I took the picture with my new SE w810i whilst flicking down the last few drops.

It's not the most sit-down friendly place I've seen. Somehow I noticed that a nasal offending scent is strangly amiss.

Upone returning to our table where Mitch is expressing excitedly to Ken about Continental air miles, Oscar asked if I had went to the bathroom.

Seeing how the only two termination points from where I just hailed is obviously appearant, the gig was up.

"Did you notice how fragrant it was in there? It smelled really good."

We all went back and smelled it. Yes, it did smell really good in the bathroom at the last dive bar in Portland named Yamhill Pub.

so...how ugly is your wife?

2006-10-20T11:36:00.000-07:00

I just read this: "Wash. man accused of sex with pit bull".

No. It wasn't me.

But a few lines in the article did tickle the bowels of my curiosity. To wit: "the first person in the Washington state charged under a new bestiality law".

I have to assume prior to this new bestiality law, people were willy nilly picking up their pets and wantonly ravishing them. When they have exhausted domesticated quadrupeds, people started trolling for strays. WTF? Really? Before the law was passed, it was not illegal to give your neighbor's Siamese the shocker while it licks the peanut butter off your pecker?

Boy did we all miss that party.

"Michael Patrick McPhail was caught by his wife on Wednesday night having intercourse on the back porch with their four-year-old female pit bull terrier."

This is a picture of a pit bull terrier.
Slim, good muscule tone, small. And a face that would make a few men briefly consider Rosie O'Donnell. Is your wife that ugly? Maybe she's Catholic and had 12 kids and the poor guy ain't been touching sidewall for years.

Michael is sitting in jail with a $300,000 bail. Let the poor man go. Having been caught by his wife and subsequently his name plastered all over the state and given the title of "first man arrestest for bestiality" is punishment enough.

sweet, sweet, salty nut

2006-10-02T13:47:00.000-07:00

I picked up this granola bar from Caronlina's stash of snacks. It was only later I realized that I was handling Sweet & Salty Nuts.

I'm not sure why, but it weirded me out. Nuts are only sweet and salty if it involves whipped cream (or honey...maybe fudge) and vigorous sessions of fornication.

Nature Valley, keep up with the ambiguity naming process. Maybe - Chunky Chocolate Speedway?

...okay I need to get back to work...

Portland Marathon - 26.2 miles of...me sleeping in

2006-10-01T22:43:00.000-07:00

Toni ran the whole Portland Marathon today. It's 26 some miles from downtown Portland to...downtown Portland. It goes through some nice scenic routes next to the most polluted river in the United States and tracks through the ghetto of NE Portland.

9000 people ran or walked it, starting at 7AM.

I maintain it is unholy. The Bible told us that Sunday is a day of rest, and we shall smite down those who work on this holy rest day with stone. Since smashing random runners with a large brick is against the law of man, I didn't obey the decree of some silly Jewish fiction. I did, however, recognize that getting up early in the morning on a Sunday constituted as a sin in the book of John, and slept in.

When I woke, Toni was on her way home, having finished the entire run without stopping (except for the train that kind of caused everyone to stop).

Roughly 4 hours and 30 minutes, or sustained 10 minute miles. Congradulations!

slurping mulluscus @ the Oyster Bar

2006-09-30T00:47:00.000-07:00

For the past few years, I have been hanging out at the Shanghai Tunnel. It's a good starting point for a night out in Portland. Two dollar PBRs in a 16 ounce can don't hurt either. We get to sit outside, watch the freaks stroll by to destination perverse and possibly illegal, and wonder why I'm not one of them.

We found the place after the first Asia trip I took with the MIM program. After spending 2 weeks in China, and partying it up in Shanghai, my friends and I find the Portland city scene mundane, and, most of all, expensive. Wandering aimlessly through the streets of downtown, bored at the usual Kell's Irish Pub, Barcode, Bar 71, and Ash Street Saloon I asked Mark and Brian where they wanted to go next.

"I want to go back to Shanghai!" Exclaimed Brian in a rediculously loud voice that is so full of passion and heavy with Taiwanese-English accent, almost unintelligible. Good thing I have been ingnoring him for some months and rely only on keyword recognition. "Shanghai", I gathered, is the destination.

Figuring that spending 12 hours on a 747 isn't rightly feasible at the moment, we kept trekking. No less than half a block did I turn, and to my astonishment, a smallish red sign that reads - "Shanghai Tunnel". Although the decor reminds nothing of China - the mural is in a distinct Japanese style depicting a Japanese ronin - it became one of our favored starting, and sometimes, ending points for a night out.

Next to Shanghai Tunnel, across a one lane alley, is a big green sign that read "Oyster Bar". I have, for the past two years, wondered what they served. By their namesake, I'd guess they specialize in the slimy goodness that is God's natual cure to Hugh Hefner's blue pill problems. But is my assumption correct? I turned and asked Lucious, the bouncer/doorman to Shanghai Tunnel, and inquired as to the true nature of the Oyster Bar.

"You know, I worked here for three years but I've never eaten there. I'm guessing they sell oysters."

Yeah. Thanks. You're a lot of help there pal. Keep up not checking my ID at the door and never offer me advice on the truly obvious. I turn and ask the bartender. I asked five or seven random people sitting around the outside patio. No one has been there. the intrigue kills.

There is only one way to find out. Google. Citysearch. Willamette Week. Result? Inconclusive. The only real way? Go eat there. Fine.

The notion of eating at the Osyter Bar has been rining for weeks in my brain. I talked issenssently to Toni about it. Then last night, told Mark and Oscar about the place. Then, on the way to pick up the Portland Marathon runners bib, I sprung it. "Mark, we are going to the Oyster Bar to eat whatever they serve. I'm guessing Oysters."

Toni and I show up at the place, and after a few minutes, greeted by a hippish looking young woman who just got done shucking two dozen oysters. "Table for four?" "Yes." "It'll be 5 minutes or so." "Okay. We'll be in the bar."

We situate ourselves in the bar. The bartender, a somewhat disheveled blonde lady in her 50's who seemed perfectly nice, was busy running around the smallish but busy bar. Perhaps it is because of the state of the bar, and the fact that the group with the old woman in the wheelchair making demands in a perfect non-English language, we got more than 10 minutes to catch up on all the decor nuances.

A Mirror Pond Pale Ale never tasted so good after a 10 minute anticipation. It ranks up there with waiting 14 years to touching the first boob that wasn't attached to my mother.

Mark and Laura show up when I'm half done with my beer. I muse momentarily on the epitaph they would attach to they eventual drink. But it wasn't forthcoming. I got up and asked the first server that I found about my 5 minute wait thats extended for more than 25 minutes. It happens to be the manager. We were seated before Mark and Laura were able to offer their poposal for a drink.

Man am I tired of writing this shit. The clam chowder was subpar. It's like mash potato soup with chopped clams yearning for a ladle of the Dead Sea.

The oysters, however, was fantastic. The Yaquina Bay oysters were particularly succulent. At $17 a dozen, its three times the price of what I had in New Orleans. But the meat is sweat and tender, with a slight crunchiness and the fragrant aroma of the sea. We had two dozen between mark and I. Viagra Cialis steak tar tar never tasted so good.

Toni said my upper lip smells like pussy.

Yes. When I got up to use the bathroom, I enlisted the help of the hippie oyster shucker girl who forgot that we needed a table and gave her a proper rundown.

It was full night. I decided to turn in and go home. It was 9:05PM.

Tomorrow, authentic Mexican meal at Oscar's. Cooked by his mother, who is from Mexico City. I'm expecting no Taco Bell.

our bodies are prison for our souls

2006-09-17T01:06:00.000-07:00

I hear this.

Our bodies are prison for our souls. All bodies decay. Death frees our soul.

Quite pessimestic, if you ask me.

I always though the body is a realization of our souls. It is the actualization of what who we are, what we have acheived, and what we have yet to become. From those before us we learn, and for those after us we build. It is the antithesis of nilism. It should be celebrated.

With alcohol!

Beer for Mexican indenpendency day! Now get the hell out of my country!

the chinese that don't speak chinese...in china

2006-09-01T00:53:00.000-07:00

Somehow I just remembered this...

I was staying in the Beijing Grand Hyatt not too long ago. I went to the front desk with the intent to leave a message to an arriving guest that I'm expecting to contact me.

Me at the desk, finding the first Chinese looking Grand Hyatt concierge. He stood about 6 feet, spiky hair, mid-twenties, and quite Chinese. By quite Chinese I mean not white, not black, and no traces of Japanese, Korean, or other minor Asian races.

I said, in Chinese, "Hi, I'm expecting a guest to arrive and I would like to leave him a message."

The guy look momentarily unfocused. Caught himself. And said, in perfect English, without accent, "Umm... I'm sorry sir, I don't speak Chinese."

"Oh well, then." Replied I in native English, "I'm expecting a guest to arrive and I would like to leave him a message."

It was amusing. You had to be there...

Judas

2006-08-28T01:09:00.000-07:00

"To thee we ask aloud... Who art thou?!"

"We are the iscariots... The legion of Jude Iscariot!"

"Now I ask of thee, Iscariots... What is it thou hast clutched in thy right hand?!"

"We're clutching the dagger... We're clutching the poison!"

"Then, Iscariots, I ask of thee... What doth thou grasp firmly in thy left hand?!"

"We're grasping 30 pieces of silver... We're grasping a halter made of straw!"

"If that's the case... What are thee, Iscarot?!"

"We are apostles, yet not apostles." "We are disciples, yet not disciples." "We are believers, yet not believers." "We are traitors, yet not traitors!!"

"For our sins, when the time comes, we will cast these 30 pieces of silver into the temple...and hang ourselves with this halter made of straw"

ducks in Beijing

2006-08-25T10:23:00.000-07:00

Actually, come to think of it, I think these are chickens.

Poultry doing it doggie style.

There are actually two eggs beneth the happy couple. Insemination an birthing at the same time, that's a busy love tunnel.

RFID

2006-08-24T23:58:00.000-07:00

I wonder if I swallowed an RFID chip I can subsequently track my poo as it goes through the city sewer system?

Alex and Dong - before coming to the US

2006-08-22T13:57:00.000-07:00

I knew if I dug deeper into the archives I come up with historical photos of people I know. Here I have uncovered photos of Alex and Dong working on the rice paddy before smuggling themselves in rice bales into the United States.

Why Alex have a woman's body back in the old country is beyond me. Maybe the food there is different.

rice rice baby

oscar de la mariachi

2006-08-21T15:49:00.000-07:00

I always wondered what Oscar would look like dress in a sombrero and a poncho. Now through the technology of Photoshop, I too can make a poorly doctored photo to satisfy my take on reality. Just like Reuters.

reminds me...

2006-08-21T01:14:00.000-07:00

of someone I know...

fingernails

2006-08-20T17:56:00.000-07:00

Time to trim my fingernails. I hear tell that fingernails grow twice as fast as toenails. But it has been my recently belief that mine are faster still. I trim my toenail once a month, or when I notice ventilation holes cut by the big toe. I trim my fingernails about once a week, mainly due to two reasons.

My fingernails get black when they are long. Once in awhile I will use an exacto knife to scrape off the nail-boogers when a nail clipper isn't handy. I wonder if these things build up from my occational nostril spelunking. But that mustn't be it because how can that activity lead to scum under my thumb?

It really sounds the alarm when I type. I type with my fingertips. With long nails, each strik of the keys produce a "clack clack clack" sound accompanied by jarring vibrations through my finger joints. Maybe this brings about capal tunnel. Either way, drives me nuts.

congestive heart failure

2006-08-18T14:42:00.000-07:00

Congestive heart failure is where the heart weakens and can no longer pump enough blood to the other organs in the body. This causes the person to become weak and unable to exert themselves. As blood slows in the body, it causes congestion in the organs and other parts of the body. Edema, or swelling of tissues, occurs. Congestive heart problems also affect the kidneys ability to process sodium and water. This water is often transported and deposited into the lungs. As the water in the lungs build, the person becomes unable to draw breath, and the added pressure in chest cavity often induces vomiting.

That was what my mother went through yesterday.

Within 12 hours, the doctors extracted over 3 liters of excess water via diuretic drugs and a cathetor. Most of the water probably came from her lungs. Blood test reveals that she may have secondary infections as well.

When I visited her in the hospital, she seemed to be doing well. She complains the hospital food is too bland and need salt. Salt is what's killing her. I guess 77 years of dietary habits are hard to overcome. We signed off Do Not Resuscitate papers.

It's funny that I don't feel a thing. It's not numbness. Just without feelings.

At her age, emergency chest compressions to revive her would break most of her ribs. Statistically she would only have 10% chance of revival from such procedure. She would live in pain and be immobile, constrained to a wheelchair for month should they were able to revive her.

She's doing better. I think she'll recover. With some dietary changes, maybe live healthily for years to come. It's the only mother I have, and I don't want her to go away. But she's so damn stubborn that I know she's going to do what she wants to do.

I wanna scream.

Alright. Time to go visit the hospital.

...in zombie...

2006-08-15T11:26:00.000-07:00

Johnny's World in Zombie

swimming in a cocktail of urine

2006-08-14T13:12:00.000-07:00

Went out with the guys on Saturday. We were supposed to go to pi-rem, some kind of artsy gallery bar type of place that was sure to have expensive imported booze. Being frugal and having just spent a great portion of our life savings for our recently acquired master degrees, we all decided to hit Shanghai Tunnel for some $2 PBRs.

$2 for a 20 oz. can of Pabst. Can't go wrong with that.

We got talking about the labels while drinking way too much of the stuff. According to the label, Pabst was established in the early 1800's. For 30 or so years, they won no awards. Sometimes in the 1850's they won a blue ribbon and was voted as "America's best beer". This during a time where there were no microbrews, no Bud, Miller, or Coors. Competition is, well, thin. They have been touting the blue ribbon ever since.

But who the hell give out blue ribbons for winning? Last I checked, national competition for food and beaverage is a 6 foot check and a 4 foot trophy. What county fair did Pabst get their Blue Ribbon? Last ribbon I got was for the 400 meter dash in elementary school.

That said, we still drank the PBR despite other beers available. Drinking, of course, yield the side effect of peeing. Shanghai Tunnel has one bathroom each for those with a protruding genitalia and for those without.

The one that I frequent is backed up. The bowl collects more than it is able to drain. There was a line and Oscar was in front of me. The last person leaves, and Oscar does his thing. He opens the door and I enter, adding urine on top of urine.

As I came out, Oscar was talking to someone in line.

"Hey Oscar, I just had a though while peeing." Said I.

"Shit." Replied Oscar.

"I was just thinking. I had sex earlier, and there are some residual sperm in my urinary tract. As I peed into the toilet, my little spermies are swimming around in a soupy cocktail of our collective urine."

master degree!

2006-08-12T02:42:00.000-07:00

It's finally over!

Ceremony is done! I now have my master degree. It's 5 years later than I planned, but hey, I done did it.

Couldn't have asked for better weather.

A bit sad that I'll never see most of these people I have struggled with for the past two years with. Some of them I'll see once in a while, some of them have become lifelong friends.

I was never there to "network". Nah. Too fake for me. It speak of socializing purely based on economic values. Kinda make life into an equation of pluses and minuses. The few friends I made I will treasure for life.

Plan for near future. Take 30 day rest. Rest my mine, my psychy, my inner being. Then actively figure out what I want to do, and persue it with the feverent drive of a crusader toward the infadels.

When will I see my first million?

such a waste of my time

2006-08-10T01:36:00.000-07:00

The final project draws near. Last presentation before I graduate.

So why is it that I feel such unease and total boredom with those I work with?

The lack of creativity? The thinnest attempt to even try and perform? The complete uselessness of all those involved in something that I can do myself in but one fortnight?

I just spent several hours locked in a room with people in my group finishing up the PowerPoint slides that is to recue me out of this drugery of a masters program. I walked into the thing having written over 40 pages of white paper material that directly impacts the project only to a near blank presentation because no one else has even contemplated that a basic structure should have already been put together.

Hours pass as I see one person fidgeting around with research document online looking to summarize what I can, at a glance, do in mere minutes. The other person is figeting with the positions of research photos; a vain attempt in basic artistic creativity, and failing. The third person is at least honest - falling asleep with his cheek on the laptop.

I leave to have dinner and hit the gym to spend excess energy. 3 hours pass and I return to those I mildly distain to continue working with.

1 page was finished.

One slide.

I sit hours longer to see 3 more slides composing of no content, but merely photgraphs, being resized and labeled.

My turn for the next two slides. It takes me less than 5 minutes.

They run through the presentation in order to prepare for the actual thing. They are all extremely tired from having just returned from Asia and not adjusted.

Why go through the motions when your heart is not in it? Do they really think when all else is exhausted, meaningless work equates to hard work, and that somehow translates to productivity? I think not.

I will be glad that within 12 hours, I will be done with this project. Those who have worked with me on this will be questionable if they ever work with me again. The miscommunication, lacking in any type of management, and total unprepareness of their work is enough to put me in a world of catatonic apprehension.

Maybe I should have not let them manage this project. Maybe my thought that "let them gain the experience of self management" has backfired. In any case, I can see all of these people need more experience than a gung-ho attitude.

Until then, it's sayonara from me. I'm off to do my own things.

...

2006-08-06T01:56:00.000-07:00

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;; courage to change the things I can; and; the wisdom to know the difference.
: Living one day at a time;; enjoying one moment at a time;; accepting hardship as the pathway to peace.
: Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it.; Trusting that He will make all things right, if I surrender to His will.; That I may be reasonably happy in this life,; and supremely happy with Him forever in the next.

how to be a joo

2006-08-04T14:30:00.000-07:00

One thing I never understood is why so many people come to the defense of the Jews. Sure, they had it bad at the hands of the Germans for a few years and faced near extinction. But by the same logic that I think reparation is a bad idea, protecting Jews over any small perceived offense is worse.

When you call a black guy "nigger", Mexican a "wetback", or Chinese a "chink", you get labled as a racist. One word. Racist. It covers all form of racial intolerance wheather your background is Southern Baptist or Southern KKK. You can believe that Licoln was wrong to free the slaves (cuz it gave rise to the Mexican incursion due to low wage labor needs) or scream white power in front of a Korean restaurant, there is only one word. Racist.

But if you question the authenticity of the holocaust, or make any remark that there seems to be a disproportionate number of people with Jewish descent in the banking and film industry, you will be given a unique label. Anti-semite.

Why the special case? Many Japanese deny that the Rape of Nanking existed, but there isn't a special label for that. Southern California has a caution sign of a Mexican family crossing the highway, and we all have a good laugh. Black Panther's militant dislike of white people is merely a curiosity. None have special names.

Heck, even when the Jews bombed 50 some children in Lebanon we call it justified war action. Anyone else does it, and we'd have repeated Iraq all over them. Why the special treatment? Why does the Western world love Jews so much more than God did in the Old Testament? They killed Jesus, for Christsakes.

The answer is probably complicated, and I'm too lazy to do any research. Instead I looked into of how to become a Jew. And here is how:

So You Wanna Convert to Jedaism?

I'm not sure I'm ready for a briss right away. Having a rabbi poking for blood on my purple one-eyed trouser snake isn't something a man at my age can easily accept. But the other terms aren't so bad...

With the Jews better protected than Pentagon's CIA files, who wouldn't consider the possibility of becoming Jewish?

hello kitty vader

2006-08-01T11:10:00.000-07:00

It's official. The Imperial Armies of Hello Killty has taken over the Galaxy Far Far Away.

30 hours of free time

2006-07-28T14:57:00.000-07:00

School is almost done. I can't believe I've been doing this for two and a half years. Hell, I'm not even sure if it was worth it. I think I've learned a few things here and there, but the value is definitely in the people I have met and became friends with.

I don't think I buy into this concept of "networking" while in school. It seems so distant and impersonal. People toss it around like it's something of great value they have gained from this masters program. I'd like to be friends with people I go to school and work with, and from there, pursue future opportunities. I think anyone who "networked" with me will find that the connection only lasts as much as their sincerity. Pretentious unreal people...sigh.

Looks like after the exit project, I'll be recovering about 30 hours of free time a week. Some of that will go to sleeping. Not sure what to do with the rest. Everyone is buzzing about finding jobs, starting a business, investing, etc. etc. etc. I think I'll take a month to rest my brain, and then look for opportunities that interest me and devote my time to it.

It'll be fun. Will I stay where I am? Will I take a new job elsewhere? Will I partner with someone to do business? Investment? Import and export? I think I will have to be something that I enjoy doing. Part of the fun will be exploring what it is I really want to do.

So much idle time...

panda express

2006-07-26T23:07:00.000-07:00

Chengdu, as with all of China, is hot in the summer. It's something like 34 degrees celcius, or 94 degrees fahrenheit, with 100% humidity. The sun blazes mercilessly from above and without air coniditioning, only idiot tourists would want to walk around up and own hill to see ovresized black and white racoons.

Which is exactly what we did.

The mission - take a cab to the Chengdu Panda Reserve, beeline to the panda enclosure, take some pictures, then jump back onto the air conditioned cab and be back in the hotel.

On the way, the cabbie told me that two years ago a worker was caught killing a panda. He ate the meat with his friends and tried to sell the fur in the black market. Given that in China, if you kill someone via vehicular manslaughter you are only require to pay $800,000RMB (US$100,000), the Panda is worth far more than a mere human life at well more than US millions of dollars each. That guy didn't live very long after being caught.

I wonder what Panda meat tastes like?

They are cuddly aminals. Their habitat is air conditioned. Where I was standing, I can only look upon the panda with envy. My shirt is soaked with seat. I knew it would be hot, so after I applied my antiperspirant under my arms, I also gave it a good go around on my neck, chest, and between the thighs. There is nothing worse than walking around with ballsacks slimy with sweat. It's like women walking around on their periods without a tampond or pads.

Hmmm... I wondered in such hot occations, I should just have lined my pants with pads... Maybe that's a new market. Adult crotch sweat absorbing underwear. I should look into that...

Workers were hauling in block of ice, which the pandas eagerly hopped onboard.

With somewhere between 1000 and 2000 of these animals left, they are the national treasure of China. Upkeep of one of these animals top over a milliion US dollars. There goes my wish to keep one as a pet.

Of course, breeding giant panda's isn't easy I hear. The ones China lent to the US didn't breed for years. There were some joke about the Chinese giving us gay pandas.

I didn't get to see how they do it, but here is picture prominently displayed in the Panda Reserver on the Panda Style of Kama Sutra.

It's like doggie stye, only bigger. And in black and white.

They also do artificial insemination. And for that I have two action photos.

The pic to the left is my finger, being used as a forecep in the aide of inseminating the giant panda, thus ensureing continued breeding.

The pic to the right is that same finger going into Jane's mouth for disinfecting. She has a mouthful of BaiJu (100 proof Chinese liquor).

When I was on the internet, I read that you can hold the panda cubs and take pictures for RMB 400, or 50 bucks. When I got to Chengdu, I was told this price has gone up. It's now RMB 800, or US $100. When I got to the room where you can actually hold the panda cub, I was informed this price is now RMB 1200, or US $150.

Now I can't help but wonder if the price wasn't inflated because I was with gringos. I'm sure I'd get a "looking Chinese discount".

Whee... It's nice to be blessed with A/C.

24 hours to Shenzhen

2006-07-17T09:29:00.000-07:00

Gruelling... From start to finish, it took me 24 hours to get to Shenzhen. At least the hotel I'm staying is where Bill Clinton stayed when he came to visit. Hmm... I better check the sheets for any Lewinsky's.

Shenzhen is humid. It's like dunking myself into an overheated hottub and then walking into a sauna. Sweat beads like pearls on my skin, only without the glamour. I do not look forward to the next week where I'll be outside doing research. I can imagine the sunstroke waiting to happen.

Too tired to think coherently. Time to fall asleep to Cantonese soap opera.

the next person that wipes his behind

2006-07-13T13:57:00.000-07:00

Pressure builds. At some point, pressure becomes more than one could bear and demands release. At the proper place, such release can be ecstatic on the order of biblical joy. Such euphoria often stimulates the mind, giving clarity of thought not attributed to normal everyday life.

It is at such a moment, sitting on the toilet at work, I had such a thought.

I glanced to my left and noticed the toilet paper, swaying harmlessly in a slight breeze caused by the ventilation systems desperate attempt to eliminate the gaseous equivalent of last night's brocoli-cheddar-beef. It had a crinkle where the last person tore it off. Staring at the crinkle, I began to wonder.

The last person must have used his hand to grab a wad of toilet paper and tear it off. He (there is no chance of that person being a she) then used that paper to make a last application, thus ensuring the orifice is clean. In other words, one can say that where the crinkle occurred is where the last guy has come in contact with his anus, through his hand.

So when I reach over to the same roll of toilet paper, I essentially use that edge of paper and apply to the dirtiest physical part of my body. In an indirect manner, it's my fecal lined ass rubbing on the last guys just cleanse rectum.

Whatever momentary feeling of eroticism quickly passed as the next wave built, and exploded in to the bowl.

I wonder what will the next person who sit here think?

googling santorum

2006-07-13T12:56:00.000-07:00

On advice from Jon Stewart, I Googled for Santorum, the last name of U.S. Senator Rick Santorum. Here is what I got.

Santorum:

1. The frothy mix of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the byproduct of anal sex. 2. Senator Rick Santorum.

That's a new word of the day.

inching toward a master degree

2006-07-11T23:11:00.000-07:00

This is it. It is the last week of school. I am one Saturday class, and one exit project away from my master degree in International Management. I have had hair, lost those hair, and got back my hair in the three year struggle to balance work, life, and school. I have gone through 5 shades of farmers tan. Sold my truck, bought and given away my Mustang, and now drive a wholly impractical roadster with 1.5 cubic foot of trunk space. Travelled to Asia 6 times, staying anywhere from .5 star to 5 star hotels. Got pampered, got misplaced, got found. It has been a journey full of stories, friends, interesting places, and adventures. Opened my mind to new concepts, and made me understand a bit more of my personal nuances. Seen intereting people, got to know them, and subsequently decided they were mistakes. Some friends I kept, some never became friends. In all, I gained more in life than I probably will ever fully comprehend. While I'll be sad to see it all go away, I welcome the extra time I will soon have. Too often have I used the excuse of "homework" and "study" and missed out what is really important. Too long have I been away from those who needed me by their side. A new dawn is rising, soon. Will it be a new me?

my HDTV is almost like...real

2006-07-10T22:27:00.000-07:00

Bought a 58 inch HDTV and hooked it up to HD cable just in time for the final games of World Cup soccer. Bunch of people came to my house and watched the German vs. Italy game on the Fourth of July. We rooted for Italy.

Juey asked me, "What are you going to do for the Fourth?"

"Oh I'm going to stay home and watch the fireworks." Said I, "On my HDTV, it's like...real life."

Now it has become a running joke that I will simply stay home, and watch almost real life on my HDTV.

Of course, I try, at every moment, to remind everyone that, on my HDTV, I did not only see Zidane headbutt into Materazzi's chest. I saw the anger. I could see the pain. In fact, I and those with me witnessed not only the disgrace of the headbutt by one of most celebrated soccer player, we saw the shockwave eminating from Marco Materazzi's chest.

That, my friends, is the clarity of HDTV.

body wash is not hair gel

2006-07-01T20:30:00.000-07:00

I have kept my head shaved for about a year now. A month ago I finally decided to grow it back. This morning, looking in the mirror after showering, I wondered if I can spike my now inch long hair.

Looking down, I saw a bottle of Axe gel. I can see cool blue bubbles through its translucent plastic body. Picking it up, I put a dollop in my hand, and rubbed it into my hair. It didn't spike very well. Then again, it's been a year since I used any hair products.

After a long day of classes and watching France beating down a very flaccid Brazil, I figure I take another shower before I go out. I wet my hair and it immediately foamed up. Hmmm... Gel doesn't react with water this way...does it?

I get done taking a shower, pickup my bottle of gel, and put it in my hair. Sitting there, I kept wondering why did my gel bubble with water? It's never done that before...

I just picked the bottle and took a good look at it. It's Axe Shower Gel. Nice... I've been running around with soap in my hair. And I'm getting my master degree in 2 weeks?!?!

midnight viewing of superman returns

2006-06-28T01:16:00.000-07:00

Call me a nerd...okay, Oscar did already. But I donned by blue Superman t-shirt and went to the midnight showing of Superman Returns.

It's like Titanic, only without the whinning presence of Leonardo DiCaprio and much more flying.

Superman take a bullet from a Vulcan cannon, like those found on attack helicopters, right in the eyeball. The pictures shows what happens. It pretty much deforms from the hydrashock and flattens to a metal pancake, then falls to the ground. The whole sequence is incredible.

The movies starts with Clark Kent, Superman, returning from a 5 year visit to the debris of Kypton, his homeworld. He goes back to his job at the Daily Planet only only to find the love of his life, Lois Lane, has a child of about 5 years old and is shacked up with another guy. During this time Sups saves lives, puts out fire, and generally does everything with great CG effect and style.

In comes Lex Luthor. He has gotten out of prison from a technicality - the defense called Superman, and since he is in outer space, Lex gets out of jail free. He appearantly seduced a very wealthy elderly woman named Gertrude in the manner of Anna Nicole Smith. "You gave me pleasure that I have never dreamed of..." said Gertrude as she lay dying, her 98 year old shrivled hand tightly grasping Luthor's. That scene made me throw up through my clamped teeth. Now Lex is going to use all this money he inherited to fund a Superman killing agenda.

Lex goes to Antarctica, where Superman's Fortress of Solitude resides. He finds the Kryptonian crystals which has the ability to grow into continents, building, weapons, and hold knowledge from 28 other glalaxies.

Back to Lois and Clark. Superman takes Lois on a romantic fly in order to get some. It didn't work. Shit, I would have done it even though I'm not gay. Anyhoo - Lois end up finding out about Lex plan, and gets caputred on his yacht. They are going to the middle of the Atlantic and use the crystals to create a new continent - a continent laced with Kryptonite which Luthor stole.

At one point, a thus beats Lois because she's trying to fax the coordinates of where they are and get help. At the point the thug is about to insert a rock into Lois' inner cranial membrane, a pinano lands on him. There were three people in the room. Lois, lying helplessly on the floor. The thug, lying with a piano on top of him. The kid, 5 years old, who just ploped the piano on the bad guy trying to off his mom. Guess who's the father?

Ok...enough spoilers. Go watch the movie. It's good.

heat wave

2006-06-27T13:21:00.000-07:00

It's been so friggin' hot the last few days that when I walked outside, I swore the fluids in my eyeballs were boiling. It's hot enough that I went to PSU with the top up, and the A/C cranked as high as it can go. Interesting thing the A/C in my car...at the second fan speed it is blowing out more air than any other cars I owned. At full blast, I was actually getting cold. I think I saw my breath.

Heat makes me lazy. And with 4th of July approaching I decided I'll just do the ultimate lazy thing - take 9 days off and stay at home. I wonder how long that will last.

3 more weeks and I'm done with this master degree thing. I can milk one last trip to China through the exit project. I think I'll do Shenzhen, Donguan, Guangzhou, and Chengdu all in one shot. Have to remind myself to build in some R&R time though...

Oh what will I do post masters education? All of last years graduates have pretty much shitty jobs worse than what I got with just a bachelors degree. Oh well, better be nice to them just in case someday I need them to find me a job...

My back hurts...I think I'm going to lay down...

Grand Hyatt Beijng and Shanghai

2006-06-01T00:06:00.000-07:00

Past few trips to Beijing and Shanghai, I have stayed in the some pretty crappy hotels. The Grand View Hotel in Beijing was suppoed to be a 4 star hotel, but I would rate it around .75 of a star. The roach motel I stayed in New Orleans for Mardi Gras was much better.

But not this time around. My room in Beijing is exquisite. Located next to Wanfujin and about 1 miles from Tiananmen Square, this is one of Beijing's best hotels.

My room has a king size bed. The bathroom is all marble. I have a kitchen, a dining area, and a living area. The work desk is all glass. Oh I I have two TV's with HBO.

The view extends into the back of the Wanfujin shopping area. There is a restaurant below, and everyday around 5PM, all the workers come outside and they do a dance show. I get free access to the executive lounge, which equates to free continental breakfast, free midafternoon tea, and complimentary evenin cocktails from 5PM~8PM.

A man can get used to accomodations like this. Too bad the smog and air quality is so bad that the visibility at time is less than 2 kilometers.

Onward to Shanghai.

I was to stay at the Grand Hyatt in Shanghai, in the Jin Mao building. This is the one of the tallest buildings in the world, and is currently the tallest hotel in the work. The lobby is at the 54th floor, and rooms go up into the upper 70's, with a restaurant and bar topping off the 83rd floor.

So where was I? On the 68th. The view from a top isn't too bad. The first day there was actually clear enough that I can get a good look of how big Shanghai really is. Damn the city is comparable to Manhattan. Looking down and around is almost like looking down from the Empires State Building. Hmmm... I'll have to dig up those photo's and do a side by side comparison.

The room is smaller than that of the Beijing Hyatt. But because of its design, every room has a view. The core of the hotel is hollow, so once I get out of the room I can see the all the floors. At the very bottom is a lounge bar. Juvenile thoughts of spitting down occured frequently, but a measure of control took over. I only managed to flick my gum wrapper over the railing.

The beds in China are hard as the marble slate they use in the bathrooms. Maybe that's why I started getting a back ache halfway through this trip.

There is a sign telling the hotel guests to keep the shades drawn because of frequent window washing. Don't want patrons to be caught in compromising positions. I kept my curtains open the entire time hoping to catch workers in action. Sure enough, they came by. I think they were amuzed by the fact that I was pointed out spots where they have missed from the inside.

Only one TV here. But I get HBO and Cinemax.
The view of Shanghai, when visible, is always breathtaking. From my room I can see the Oriental Pearl TV Tower and much of the PuXi area.

But I think I'm getting tired of Beijing and Shanghai. I've been in both cities weeks at a time, 3 times in the past 18 months. It's time to explore the rest of China.

eating a star...fish

2006-05-27T09:16:00.000-07:00

Since I was a wee little child I have picked up starfishes from beaches. They are pointy, hard, and look like the ninja stars that my mother refuse to buy me.

And that's what makes them great. It's nature's frisbee. We throw them at things. Never have I thought they were edible. Never meaning until this trip to Wanfujin in Beijing.

As I wonder through the stalls of exotic foods, noticing with great passe of the foods I've alread eaten, I cam across a tray of pink five pointed wonders. Amidst a plethora of bugs, cocoons, entrails, snails, and other critters, is my beloved childhood toy - star fish.

One wonders how star fish does taste. I did. I imagined it would taste something like gravel wrapped around sand. But imagination must, at sometime, coincide with a healthy dose of reality. At 8 yuan, or a simply US dollar, it is too hard not to purchase one and give it a try.

One bite, and there it is as I have imagined. The vendor took a fresh starfish on a stick and submerged it into a wok full of hot oil. few minutes later, she handed it to me indicating I should eat it while it's fresh.

Gravel wrapped around sand, in my mouth. It is exactly as I have expected. As I pondered the cost of my next dental visit whilst grinding down my molars, I noticed that, throughout the 100 meter or so of food stalls, I am the only one eating a starfish.

There are these homeless people who have been picking food out of garbage nearby. I have witnessed these people pulling out half-eaten squid and consuming it with aplomb. I walked over to one of these less fortunate than I, and proffered my textured treat in an offer of sustenance. He laughed at me and threw it in the garbage.

I will not eat another starfish.

the slinky dildo song

2006-05-11T12:14:00.000-07:00

What rolls down stairs?
Alone or in pairs.
And makes a buzzity sound?

Its long, a schlong.
A marvelous dong.
Everyone knows its Dildo

What fits in a sock?
Feels better than cock?
And unlike a man, it's slow?

It vibrates a bit.
Feels great on your clit.
Everyone Knows It's Dildo!

Its Dildo! It's Dildo!
It's big. It's fleshy. It's ribbed
Its Dildo! It's Dildo!
Yes. That's right. It's ribbed.

What fits in your crack?
Some even have sacks
The penis you don't have to blow

They're not just for gays
They use double A's
Everyone Knows It's Dildo!

A Dildo dog
A Dildo plane
Many more vibrating toys

You turn the knob
They buzz and throb
Feels great in girls and boys

What makes you cum?
And fits in your bum
Some of them even can glow

A dink. A dink.
In marvelous pink
Everyone Knows It's Dildo!

A long fleshy tube
Use oil based lube
Not just for neighborhood ho's

For a girl on the go
With no time for a beau
It makes for a perfect fellow

They're Dildos! They're Dildos!
The sex toy everyone likes
They're Dildos! They're Dildos!
For gay men and even for dykes.

Now you got the lyrics, go see the movie.

The Dildo Song Music Video

dildo, the slinky of the new millenium

my fair brady

2006-05-04T00:54:00.000-07:00

I ran into my friend Brady a few days ago. Appearantly he found out that I bought a Solstice and thought that his beloved Mini Cooper may pose a challenge in a contest of motor manliness. Of course I'm no rally car driver and Brady, at 9+ feet, has to keep his sunroof open just to see where he is going. I'm pretty sure that at the first turn, his exemplary height will have unbalanced the center of gravity of his Mini and tip over in a ditch somewhere.

I have blogged about my friend Brady regarding how he regularly enjoy a healthy dose of midget porn. Now I don't have a picture of him but I think the attached photo is a good close approximation.

the new Brady Bunch

no more cinco de mayo

2006-05-03T13:22:00.000-07:00

In protest of the May Illegal Immigrant march, I am protesting against these immigration line cutters by not purchasing Mexican products.

That's right, this Cinco de Mayo, I vow to drink only domestic beers!

cinco de miracle whip

Lamborghini Murcielago

2006-05-01T00:45:00.000-07:00

It was a very nice afternoon here in the sunny portion of the Pacific Northwest that is Vancouver, Washington. I decided we should go for a drive to the Bonneville Dam to see the famed sea lions that's been gobbling up our salmon supplies. Something about a very poor count at the fish ladders on the news, I guess. The route is I-14 - winding, twisty, and various elevation changes. We carved through one lane roads nestled between evergreens that open up to grand views of the Columbia River. This is what I expected of a Sunday drive.

I waved at every convertible that I came across, saddened briefly that none of them was another Solstice. Many Mustangs, Audis, Miatas...

Then the road straightened, and up ahead I see a silvery sliver of a car that I couldn't immediately identify. As it drew closer, I realized that it was sitting low, and glimmered a metallic silver that I've never seen before. Could it be another Solstice? I have never seen another outside of the one I climb into every day. I momentarily hold my breath as the other car come into focus.

It was not a Solstice. It was a three-hundred-thousand dollar Lamborghini Murcielago Convertible. By the time I realized that the stunning piece of price-of-my-house-on-wheels was it was upon me. Instinctively I turn my head and raise my hand to wave. My hand pauses in mid-air to the realization that the owner of the Lamborghini is also sideways staring at my car. His hand came up in a wave, and we echange a smile and a nod.

It was a good afternoon.

it's mexijuana time

2006-04-29T15:52:00.000-07:00

In an effort to ease border tension, Mexico has decided that it will begin efforts to make the rest of Mexico more like Tiajuana. The first step in making Mexico the Amsterdam of America is legalizing marijuana, cocaine, ecstacy, and heroin for personal use. In the 3-year plan proposed by Mexican President Vincente Fox, legalization of prostitution will be next, followed by the construction of casinos and cock fighting pits next to the US-Mexican border next to the border wall. "This will provide jobs for Mexican nationals. No longer will Mexicans be slaves for unappreciative US Strawberry Pickers' Union," says Mr. Fox. "We are natives of the Americas, it's about time we take note of the actions of our Native American friends."

Rush Limbaugh has called this move by the Mexican government "a good gesture and a good start", but also that "they need to legalize painkillers such OxyCotin and Hydrocodone immediately if they wish to attract the business of wealthy radio hosts."

Economists predict within 10 years, Mexico will create more than $500 billion pesos in revenue. But experts warn the revenue created will be spent on healthcare for US narcotic addicts, education for their kids, and annoying marches of protesters waving US flags in Cabo San Lucas.

viva ~~las vegas~~ mexico!

mexicanfication of United States

2006-04-28T13:45:00.000-07:00

Amid all this controvery of a Spanish languaged US National Anthem, I thought I ought to have an opinion too. Too bad no one wants to listen to me.

I think we should also extend the respect to our neighbors to the North, the Canada-ians. They should Canada-fy The Star-Spangled Banner. It would probably sound something like this:

"O - Say can you see, eh?"

This would show that we, the true Americans, respect our lesser American neighbors and not have something as stupid sounding as "Nuestro Himno".

I mean, really, the song is produced by some British music guy. A Brit! Is the bloke still sore that a bunch of colonials bitch slapped the queen mother 200 years ago and now Tony Blair is George Bush's crack-ho?

this site is like Chernobyl...

2006-04-25T10:15:00.000-07:00

Can't believe I haven't updated my little corner of the innernit for so long...it's like I've been too busy and completely forgotten about it. Everyday is busy busy busy. When am I going to get a break? Its getting harder to get out of bed every morning. I wonder if I contracted some kind of lethargic disease. I think I read somewhere there is a gene that flips when you reach your middle ages...

For some reason, I alway had a facination with the effects of nuclearn radiation on human flesh. Call me macabre, but I wallowed for several minutes as a captive audience when Discovery channel showed grotesque, mishappen limbs on barely recognizable human beings. So far, no superheros has emerged due to radiation.

Chernobyl...20 years later

this ought to happen to Iran

not your playboy bunny...but it is the size a sheep

2006-04-11T14:33:00.000-07:00

I had something funny to say but I forgot what it was. Seems like breeders are bored with grinding on sheeps overlooking a cliff (so they back up harder) they want some bunnies. Since Playboy bunnies aren't likely to go for the rancher types (80 year old rich man in pajamas, however...) they decided to breed rabbits to the size of sheeps.

Amazing what man will do to spit in the eye of god and say, "We have improved on your lousy half-assed creations!"

Monster rabbit devours human fetus in Mexican Catholic abortion clininc.

lots of fur on that bunny

mind of joe rogan?

2006-04-02T23:50:00.000-07:00

I was sitting there, doing some work, and flipping between Comedy Central and NBC. Mind of Mencia was on Comedy Central, and some version of Fear Factor was on NBC. Mindlessly flipping between the two channels, and with my eyes blurred from staring at my laptop, I came to a realization.

Carlos Mencia and Joe Rogan are two versions of the same person!

Mencia is the hefty Rogan when he isn't doing Fear Factor or UFC, and when Mencia looses all that weight from chasing down beaners on his show, he goes back to being Joe Rogan.

You be the judge.

different version of the same person?

midnight nose picking hunt in Beijing

2006-03-29T01:31:00.000-08:00

We sure did get done some drinking in Beijing. The fact that we can find beers at almost $0.25 cents for a pint is incredible. However, I have never experienced a Ninja experience until my Mexican friend Oscar decided to embody one. Yes, Oscar is a Mexican, and he is a Ninja. I call him..."Minja!" His stealth is unmatched. He can blend in easily with any brownish color carpeting or furniture, and is nearly invisible at dusk. In Beijing, the particulate matters in the air is numerous enough that Oscar can step 1.5 meter away and completely blend himself in the haze. Amazing.

What is more amazing is that I have documented proof of this Minja. We were at a bar in Sanlitun, Beijing, celebrating Jason's birthday. We drank a little more than the white man can handle, and he went back to the hotel early. Well, the Minja wasn't quite done, and he made me, under the auspice of free beer, stay until nearly four in the morning. At which time, he decide that that best use of my camera is to film his intrepid advendture to stick it to the white man. In this case, Jason; at once our birthday boy and Oscar's roommate. Here is what transpired.

Oscar discovers 2 liter sized Heineken, and encourages alcohol comsuption.

Jason is impatient to have his turn to suckle from the very large Heineken bottle.

Strangely, Oscar finds that the plastic cover of the beer more elating than that of a live woman.

Alright, this is where we go for the money shot. The adventurer decides to hunt for the redneck October that is Jason. At four in the morning. Quietly slipping in the keycard, the door clicks, and we gain entry.

Ever quietly, the door creaks open.

Sheeeeh! We're hunting for whities...

Oh good, no one's up.

The intensity of the hunter.

Jason, our quarry, sleeping so deeply that he has no idea what Montezuma's Revenge is about to befall him.

If I recall correctly, Oscar can't stop himself from laughing. But he concentrates and ...power up!...

Jason is about to get a Dirty Sanchez.

Mission accomplished!

I am a Mexican?!?!

2006-03-26T02:24:00.000-08:00

I gave some money to a homeless guy today. He grabbed my money and asked:

"Are you Mexican?"

SHHHHHIIIIT!!!

No.

I'm going to Cali to protest the immigration reform laws!

my Chinglish fails me

2006-03-24T11:36:00.000-08:00

Took a stroll in the Summer Palace in Beijing not too long ago. The Long Gallery, a really, really long hallway with different scenery pained at each cross beam was closed for construction. The sign, written in both Chinese and English, showcased the depserate need of proper translators in China.

The Chinese reads - "Under Construction, Please Watch You Head".

The English - "The construction passage is cateful to meet"

A word on visiting Summer Palace in the Winter. Summer Palace is where the Emperor goes to dodge the morbidly warm and humid summer heat. It is a place that imparts coolness, breezy, lots of shade, and generally everything that is associated to have a cooling effect. Summer is the time to visit the Summer Palace.

Summar Palace in Winter. The temperature hovers somewhere around freezing and "I'M PEEING YELLOW ICICLES!!!" The man made lake (they dug out a lake, and with the dirt, built a hill for the palace) is in a state solid enough that, if Jesus appeared and walked on water, it wouldn't impress anyone. The sun is out, but there are lots of shade. The constant breeze of arctic air is very cooling, indeed.

Okay I'll stop bitching. *cough*

programme erotica on Japanese TV

2006-03-23T00:18:00.000-08:00

Unlike last year, where we stayed in Hotel Ibis, a reputed Sex Hotel in Roppongi, we stayed in Hotel Excel Tokyo in Shibuya for 2006. It is a much nicer hotel catering to real business people. Allow me to demonstrate the difference:

The picture to the right is Hotel Ibis, centrally located in the Roppongi district of Tokyo. The area is known for its colorful nightlife. On weekends, you can't walk two blocks without a Southern African guy tugging at you to "Come to my bar!" and handing you little coupons for cheap drinks and promises of hot sexy ladies. If you look closely at the picture (click it) and examine the billboard on the right, it's easy to see that in addition to nightly stays, the hotel also offers an Esquire Club, Lovenet, Last Saigon, and G Love right on the premises. The basement of the hotel is a hostess bar that deals out drinks by the hour. Spend $60US, and it's all you can drink for 2 hours. I was told that you also get lady company, with option for take out. Being timid, I never confirmed this story by Nicoli.

The picture to the left is a profile of the room at Hotel Ibis. It's that small. In fact, I could have reached over in the middle of the night and suffocated my snoring roommate without really having to extend myself much. I didn't do that. Patrick was my friend. I did slap him a few times and stick my finger into his gaping maw and took a few photos while he slept. He later made me delete the compromising photos under a most uncomfortable headlock. We were on the top floor. When it rained, the ceiling bulged. Patrick poked at the bulge and down came about a camel's pissload of rainwater. It was trashy, but without the glamour.

This year, at the Hotel Excel Tokyo in Shibuya, we had real Western style rooms. The location is much nicer as I'm not harassed with opportunities for paid female companions 30 seconds after I walk outside of the hotel. As illustrated, I have a sitting area looking outside of the Shibuya area of Tokyo. Finally I can sit naked next to bright Tokyo neon night, smoke a Marlboro, and watch Patrick toss and turn in his boxers whilst pondering the impact of particle physics on the Catholic dogma of Creationism. I did none of that, but I would, if I were capable.

Of course, the hotel isn't without its faults. While it was grand to break fast on the 35th floor overlooking the Tokyo sunrise, I was somewhat disconcerted by the advertisement in my room of the morning feast. Examined closely, the plaquard planted in my room of the Japanese style faire literally states, "Japanese restaraunt Syun-Sai may serve healthy and FLESH breakfast set menu." I'm guessing they meant fresh, but given my last year's experience, maybe they do mean flesh. The view, as I mentioned before, is spectacular. I can see Shinjuku, Harajuku, Yoyogi park, and almost Tokyo Tower if the mist ever let up. This, I surmised, is a real Tokyo hotel.

Here, gratuitously, is a view from where I had breakfast. The green looking park is Yoyogi park, and beyond that, Shinjuku. Harajuku, where Gwen Stephani had misappropriated the Harajuku Girls in order to gain street cred, lies somewhere in between.

Now to tie the title of this piece together. In both hotels, sex and business, trashy and upscale, Ibis and Excel, were made available a TV set. The remote controls (alas, I did not take a picture) contained, in addition to the regular numbers and buttons, additional controls labeled (P1), (P2), (P3) and (P4). One of the buttons did nothing. One of them either provided for movies or the Golf channel. The other two, however, gave one on intriguing 30 second look of heavily mosaic'ed Japanese porn. Push the right button, and you get to see a Japanese girl in a sailor outfit and hear moans that indicate she is at once receiving pleasure and yet too modest to express the sensation in an overt manner. After the 30 seconds, you can opt to purchase the movie for viewing, or press the other button to see another 30 seconds of modest Japanese porn.

Here is a preview.Yes. In both hotels, the parallel is astonishing. I recall last year bursting into a room occupied by a man named Ron only to discover that he had purchased the full erotic program, and was sitting on the bed studying the television intently. When queried, he simply said - "I am trying to determine the difference in cinematography of Japanese and Western pornography."

Shanghai'ed in Shanghai

2006-03-22T00:30:00.000-08:00

It was 9:30 AM, Saturday, March 18th, 2006. I woke from a restless sleep to rapid knocks on my hotel door. Patrick opens the door. In burst a very excited Corey, dressed in last night's clothing, teeming with a story he must get off his chest.

Fig A. Corey is the white guy.

"What the fuck man?" I moaned.

"Dude!" Said Corey in an ever excited voice, "You'll never guess what happened to me and Mehmet last night!"

"What you buy some cheap hookers and they turned out to be men?"

"No no! Mehmet and I walked down Nanjin Lu and got jacked by some Chinese English students!"

And so the story goes:

Corey and Mehmet were walking innocently down Nanjin Lu in downtown Shanghai, minding there own business and taking in the sights. Up came two Chinese women that, very forwardly, spoke to them.

"We are English students, can we talk with you as to practice our English?"

As Corey and Mehmet were nice people, and wholly unaccustomed to womenfolk approaching them in such forward fashion, they obliged. As they walked, Corey was blissful just to be able to help a poor Chinese English student and also practice his Chinese. They walked and talked for what must have been miles (or in my early morning hearing, several minutes of Corey talking) until one of them suggested that they go to a cafe to rest their feet. Delighted, the dynamic duo followed the two female Chinese students to drink some coffee.

Once situated on a 7th floor cafe, Corey, Mehment, and the two female English students engaged in rapid exchanges of deep conversation both in Chinese and English. "How are you?" "Nihao." "Xiexie." "The weather is nice." "Your English is good." "Ni de Zhongwen henhao." And other such phrases were fired back and forth in rapid succession that is surely to impress even the most experienced UN interpretor.

Fig B. Corey not being shy.

Several minutes later, one of the girls disappears for a minute. Back she comes with a waiter bearing a tray of four whiskeys. Finally, Corey realized that something is amiss. "Hey, who ordered this? How much is it?" The girls try to convince him that it is all legit but Corey will have nothing of it. At this point, Mehmet (the international man of pleasure) just kicked back and started drinking from all four whiskeys. "How much does this cost? Where is the bill?" After some demanding in both English and Chinese, the bill came to 3300 RMB. For those who are not up on the latest currency exchange, 3300 RMB is roughly $400US. $400 US for 4 coffee, 4 whiskeys, and no blowjobs is extremely expensive anywhere in the world.

"I'm not paying this shit!" Exclaimed Corey as he watched Mehmet drain the last of the whiskey and flashing him a big grin.

To make a long story short, they got away with paying only 400 RMB, or roughly $50US. What they did is fall for a simple trick that happens all the time in Shanghai. One or more English speaking Chinese women will come up and ask if they can practice their Chinese. They seem innocent and harmless, and appear eager to learn and converse quite nicely. Eventually, they ask to go to a cafe/bar/place to rest, and this is where they get you. These business charge exorbitant prices and often employ local gangs to enforce payment. Corey and Mehmet got out cheap because they realized what's up early.

"Shit, did anyone else fall for this?" Said Corey.

"Yep, just ask Tim and Devan. I believe they lost more money than you two did, and Devan didn't even drink!"

Fig C. Corey and Ahren crossing steams.

"Did you tell Rebecca what happened to you?" Asked I.

"Yeah, she was glad I was okay."

"Umm... You know, after she is relieved that you are okay, you know she's going to ask - Why the fuck did you go with them in the first place! - right?"

"Ahh... I have some serious ass kissing to prepare for..." Lamented Corey.

three weeks in Asia

2006-03-22T00:09:00.000-08:00

Well I'll be a monkey's uncle...

Been gone for almost a month traveling with a troupe of near graduating master degree candidates through Tokyo, Beijing, and Shanghai without a single update to my little corner of the internet. What interesting time we had, and oh, where to begin with some new experiences?

I ate Fugu, or Blowfish, in Tokyo. One stray sliver of this most poisonous fish can mean death within hours.

I went into the girl's bathroom to take some pictures on behest of fellow female students only to be almost identified as a pervert by our translator.

I watched the Chinese equilavent of The Gong Show at the Beijing Opera.

We managed to get $1.25 haircuts that, for the most part, turned out great.

I watched my friend Dana get whacked by a homeless woman for being too cheap to give her the US equilavent of $0.12.

Climbed the Great Wall of China, invaded living quarters at 4 AM, drank 2 liter sized Heineken, and listened to stories of how people got Shanghai'ed for money by English students.

Where to begin stories that fit the pictures...

erotic baked goods...what's wrong with me?

2006-02-23T13:08:00.000-08:00

I went to lunch today with some people from work. Gary tells me there is a good philly cheese steak place that recently opened up and got good reviews. Though I'm not much into sandwiches unless it's me in the middle, I decided to play along. Rule number 11, never disagree with the boss on trivial stuff such as lunch.

So we come up to Philly Bilmos, An East Coast Deli. At first I read it as "Philly Bimbos", but then I corrected my dyslexia. We walk up to the door and I came across this sign:

I paused at this sign for more time than is normal. Why? Because of another word that popped into my mind when I read "TASTYKAKE" -> "BUKAKE". "Tasty Bukake?" Thought I. "Can't be! Too extreme!" Thought I some more. Bukake is a Japanese term, where tens, sometimes hundreds, of men masterbate and deposit their outcome onto the face of a single, kneeling female. "They made a food product from that?!" Thought I again.

Disturbed about what kind of sandwich shop I'm getting into, I reluctantly enter. Turns out, Tastykake reads much like tasty+cake, not tasty+ka+ke that made me associate with Japanese facial. But for some reason, I didn't want to try a Tastykake.

The sandwich was really quite good. Instead of the 6 and 12 inch that is common, Philly Bilmos has 8 and 16 inch cheesesteaks. I'd hit it again.

my new pontiac solstice

2006-02-12T22:51:00.000-08:00

Ever since I drove my friend Glen's Miata some 12 years ago, I wanted a two seat roadster. I remember the day. It was February, and it was muy frio. I wake up to the sound of ringing door bells, and then someone helping himeself in. My bedroom door flung open and there stood, at 5 foot 5, a disheveled Singaporean.

"My computer is broken and I have a project due tomorrow. I'm going to use your computer."

Great. I thought. Thanks a lot for waking me up so early in the morning at... Shit! It's 2PM?

I walk to my computer, turn it on, log in, and turn to Glen, "Don't do whatever it is you did on your peecee and break mine. Oh, and, gimme your keys."

"You're not driving my Miata."

"Then I guess you're not getting your project done. Give it or I'll beat you with this beer bottle."

Five minutes later I was in a shirt, a sweatshirt, a parka, snowman gloves, top down and on the road. Oh and pants too. It was a beautiful sunny day, but there were much snow on the ground. People were driving by looking incredulous. Mostly likely they are thinking "WFT?!"

Fast foward 12 years. There I was, only a few days ago, poking on the internet looking for a dealer with a black Pontiac Solstice. Some months ago Patrick told me about this car, and breaking men's law (never date your friend's ex, and never get the car you friend might consider the possibility of financing), I decided that's the car for me.

Sure, I already own a convertible Mustang, but I consider it a compromised between what I wanted and what is practical. It's quaint that the Mustange can hold 4 people with a decent trunk (which currently holds two chainsaws, a can of Miller Lite, Mo's shirt from last year, pair of jeans, first aid kit, some books, socks, sandals, and god knows what), but it is not true the unpractical waste of money that I truly desired.

Last Saturday I had a morning class, Global Human Resources conducted by the ever capable Dr. Taylor. I did not attend. I had arranged for a test drive of a black Pontiac Solstice, the only one within 500 mile radius.

It was a joy to behold. The front reminds me of a early era Porsche with its rounded wrap around bumpers. The top disappears into a clamshell, giving it a true roadster look. It is like a teardrop, which is exactly what I shed when I rubbed up gentle against its hydroformed body.

It is practical? With the top down, the effective trunk space is about 1.5 cubic feet. Not enough for my briefcase. Curiously, it has three cup holders for this little two seater. Performance? At 177 BHP, it's not super fast. But it does have a near 50/50 weight distribution running on massive 18 inch chrome wheels, making it entirely tossable around corners. The facial expression of onlookers as I drove by is almost enough to warrant a purchase, not to mention the hokey smile permanently etched on my mug.

Life, and this summer, is turning out to be very good.

from bi-curious to omni-curious

2006-01-30T13:03:00.000-08:00

There are always two sides to a situation. In a class I took we were split into two groups. Each group is to read a case study representing one side of a conflict. We were to come back and discuss the situation in a class, each group only exposed to a single side of the story.

So when I was split into a group to read a case study for one side, I went ahead and read the case study for the opposing side. Dana or Oscar or someone said that I was cheating. To which I replied, "No, I'm bi-curious."

That wasn't what I mean to say, but it is how it came out. Some laughs later I tried to correct myself. "Well, I'm curious about everything. It is my nature."

Steve added, "Wouldn't that make you omni-curious?"
Corey, "Oh man, that hole in that tree sure looks tempting."

Yes, I supposed I am omni-curious. Some vegetables are mighty tempting and elicit a tingling sensation between my legs.

not true, I'm merely curious

restricted cell phone calls

2006-01-30T12:51:00.000-08:00

Lately I have been getting more and more calls from restricted phone numbers. I guess the idea is that they don't want the recipient (me) to know who is calling. Whoa! It's a like a fucking surprise everytime I pickup the phone! Who could it be today? Boy, I can't wait. Is it Oliver Stone calling me about the script I sent him, or will it be the credit company demanding payment. The suspense!

I don't like surprises, and I rarely care for suspense.

That's why I have a counter. You don't want me to know who is calling, I don't want to take your call. Besides, I only know two people who do this. One is Dominic, who is secretive about things that are public knowledge. The other is some dumb bitch who plays these kinds of games. I don't play, so she can go blow some homeless guy to fuck her in her fat ass.

Boy...I've been getting meaner and meaner these days...

too much to hide

world's largest dildo

2006-01-27T14:29:00.000-08:00

Wanna know why the US military budget is so high? It's because loads of it go to research and development of bigger and better tools to satisfy our horny US co-eds.

When they are done testing, they put some gunpowder inside and attach a propeller. Then they call it a torpedo and shoot for seamen.

Evidence? Here in Hawaii, we have a thinly veiled "Golden Rod" variety on display, attracting a prior test subject to pose for a photo-op.

rear admiral sir! the torpedo is ready for entry!

me and amanda borden

2006-01-27T14:20:00.000-08:00

Amanda Borden is an USA gymnist who happened to have won a Gold Medal in the 1996 Olympics. The proof is here, at the USA Gymnastics Official Biography site.

Normally, people like her wouldn't have anything to do with people like me, much less let me put my arms around her and take a photograph for publishing onto a semi-intelligent blog site. Thank for publicity events. I even have pictures of her twisting herself into a double knot. But I think that'll be kept in my private collection.

gymnasty!

forget lasik, beer goggles work better

2006-01-26T22:53:00.000-08:00

Beer goggles and Lasik surgery both share a common background: they are both scientifically proven to improve your vision. Well, at least it improves what you see.

Lasik improves the eyes' ability to focus light accurately onto the rods and cones, thereby sending a sharper image to your retina and allowing you to see clearly. Beer goggles forgoe the complication of bringing light into a singular locus and reshaping your oculous through intense lasers. Instead, it makes whatever you see, better!

Proof? It's here in an article by the BBC. They're British, and so must be unpretentious and right.

So next time you go home with Charlize Theron, and wake up to Charles Thorn, you'll appreciate that it is due to science, and not poor judgement.

Meet Hindsight, she's 20/20.

whale poo looker upper

2006-01-25T13:10:00.000-08:00

Walk alongside of the beach, come up to a 33 pound whale log. What's a person to do? Take that shit (literally) home, of course!

Whale feces, used in perfume making, is worth about $20 to $60 a gram. That means a 30 pound whale stool is over $200,000 in the open market. Although I think I'd have serious problems walking around peddling whale excrement as an ingredient of "that mysterious, feminine fragrance".

link to story bush on poo, now that's a sick shiza fetish

egg cars, get killed

2006-01-24T14:53:00.000-08:00

Why do we protect punkass kids who behave badly, and punish the adults who even the score? Here we have a man who is simply driving along the street, only to have a bunch of uncouth jackass teenagers throw eggs at his pickup. The man did what any red-blooded American man would do - but don't in fear of unjust laws - he pulled out his gun and shot them.

Sure, the guy has a history of drug and alcohol abuse. Sure, he has a history of violence. But aren't we forgetting the fact that in the particular case, stupid teenagers think they can get away with hurtful pranks instigated the whole thing? If I'd know that throwing eggs at cars could result me being shot at and possibly killed, I'd find other forms of amusement.

Personally, I'm quite sick and time of punks who demand respect but will give none. They cry foul whenever something is not going their way, yet will pursue every advantage.

I say, good for you man. You stood for what you believed. You decided that violence is the final answer, and solved your problem once and for all. There will be no egging in prison. There will also be one less punk who won't be antagonizing drivers with eggs.

some teenagers deserve a good killing

twin towers from empire state

2006-01-24T13:01:00.000-08:00

Took this grainy crappy picture from the Empire State Building. Hadn't realized I have this picture of the Twin Towers.

All I remember about New York was that it was August, andit was hot a humid. It's like 98 degrees out, and there are these steam stacks diverting sewer steam from the street level. Tons of people, bad traffic, and expensive.

I also remember Craig and Charles spent a whole night at a topless joint in Times Square, right next to a TGI Fridays. I think I spent $35 at Friday's, got drunk, chatted up with the bartender and waiters, and got the manager to make me a martini. Out stumbles in Craig and Charles, sober and some $500 poorer. Dude, a street hooker wouldn't cost that much. Amatures.

creative past of human torture

2006-01-23T00:50:00.000-08:00

Not that I would ever condone torture to extract information. In most of our history we have learned that information gained from pain is almost always false and useless. So then, one might reasonable conclude that we torture for...fun? To some people, the calling of the sadistic nature must be quite strong.

Take the below for instances, pillaged from Occational Hell, the Judas Cradle. A person is synched by the waist with the iron ring and hoisted up in the air. The pointy pyramid thing is then positioned underneath. Underneath what? You Ask? Oh, the anus, the vagina, the ball sacks, the taint, or any other pontentially extremely hurtful just to think about region sandwiched between the buttocks. The person is lowered, and pain ensues.

Maybe this is the predecessor to reality TV in the old world. I can think of a few people that should spend a few minutes on such creative devices like the Iron Gag and the Breast Ripper. But who knows, some butt pounding whore might even enjoy a session with a Pear of Anguish.

why don't you sit on it and...spin!

howdy doody

2006-01-20T13:04:00.000-08:00

My Friend

Kenny,

said that our friendScott,

looks like

Howdy Doody.

midget porn...for my friend brady

2006-01-19T23:04:00.000-08:00

I ran into my friend Brady today. He asked me about midget porn. I can't recall why that would be the first thing he says to me, but hey, everyone is entitled to their own fetishes.

But after a couple of beers I get contemplative. Brady, after all, is something like 9 feet tall. Naturally he would mistake anyone shorter than, say 5 foot 11 to be a midget. His wife must appear to be around 3 feet to him. I can now make a connection to his facination with midget porn.

What to me would be a nasty limber oily intercourse between Andre the Giant meet Tall Bitch (from Duece Bigelow) in a threesome with Yao Ming is probably normal for Brady.

So Brady, here is to you and your dwarf sex. If you really get into it, you can even rent short people. Really, here is a link at Rent-A-Midget.

it's like pedophilia, but legal...man that's sick

poor judgment is fun judgment

2006-01-19T22:40:00.000-08:00

No group of friends ever got together and reminisced the following statement:

"Hey man, remember that time we abided speed limit and drove up to Seattle, had a pleasant dinner and retired to our respective rooms, and came back safe with without incident?"

No, exercising good judgment is often bland and folksy. It's safe like abstinence, without the Catholic overtones.

More often, this is what makes life exciting:

"Dude, remember that time we went to Seattle and Greg got a reckless driving ticket for going 130 miles an hour? Oh and we got so shitfaced drunk that Scott let that chick blow him in the bathroom, even though we kept telling him it was a dude? And then Pete got all pissed for some reason, went to the bathroom where Brent just took a dump, and smeared shit all over Ray's pillows?"

Yep. Good times.

Poor juedgment is fun. Good judgment is progressive. I urge the world to exercise good judgment, and let me have my fun.

god promotes safe sex

2006-01-17T13:13:00.000-08:00

Those crazy people at Planned Parenthood not only enourage safe sex, they also want you to have sex with a bit of mirth, style, and creativity. On sale now are condom keychains featuring US Flags, funny sayings, and god handing adam a raincoat. This is pissing off all sorts of anti-abortion groups (because forcing teenagers to keep unwanted children is really a good thing) and religious-types. Strangely, Michaelangelo believers find it mildly amusing, and went on about their business as if nothing ever happened.

Get yours today.

and god said...thou has procreated enough, time to use this...

tv is bad for sex

2006-01-17T13:01:00.000-08:00

A report out of Rome (yes, where Catholic priest, who don't have sex *really*, reside near) states that a TV in the bedroom halves sexual activity for the couple. The article is here. Then they go on to some psychobabble trying to make this study legit.

The way I look at it, it's simply a matter of choice. In the bedroom, I can laydown and watch TV, or I can laydown and have sex. If there is a stove and some counter space, I might even opt to make a grilled cheese sandwich. Choice, after all, is good. But I giess the concept is lost on them Italians what with the blind faith in the church and their oppressive regimes.

Now, the study failed to count the times the same couple have sex on the couch, stairs, bathroom, and the driveway.

Crazy Italians, never could really trust them.

on thy flesh I dine

2006-01-12T15:08:00.001-08:00

Human flesh is wonderfully fun. You can squeeze it, pinch it, caress it, poke it, rub it, cut it, rip it, tear it, kiss it, or generally rub yourself all over it. It is also what most of us use to judge whether we buy the girl at the bar a drink, or go after her friend instead. Such wonderful substance must be celebrated. And, because imitation is the highest form of flattery, a bread making artist has done just that.

Human Flesh Bread. Looks good, and comes flavored in French Cheese, German Sausage, and Oriental flavorings!

I wonder if they make whole bodies. I'm betting there is a whole group of people that are perverted enough to buy an anatomically correct female bread, perform wonton sex with it, and then consume the leftovers.

Related links: X51 Enema, Taipei Time s, Nerd Shit

they're contracted to do some hentai dolls out of bread next

cold in las vegas

2006-01-12T02:37:00.000-08:00

But what heated it up was the AVA, or the Adult Video Awards. The clips they show aren't lame dramatic pieces. No. The clips they show are girl-on-girl-on-guy-on-girl in quad penetration with monkeys. Yes, monkeys. I think it ought to be televised like the Emmys or the Grammys. Shit, it's got to be better than any award the BET and put up.

Some photos.

yep

and now for not eating our children

2006-01-11T10:35:00.000-08:00

The times of cavemen is extremely boring. Outside of definding yourself constantly from wild animals and other tribes after your women, there is very little left to do with all that time. No TV, no radio, not even a good book to cozy up to. What's a caveman to do with all that freetime? Watch each other.

Appearantly they do that a lot. Enough that a meseum in Mexico has dedicated entire display for this kind of interesting human history. First I thought they were watching each other taking a massive dump. The truth is slightly less facinating. It's child birth.

They also had a picture of cavemen eating their fallen friends. Why let good, servicable meat go to waste?

holy shit! that stool looks like baby jesus!