tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72047802024-03-12T22:00:44.786-05:00They call me Sprint...My public journal. Ideas, stories, philosophy and fleeting thoughts.Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-59311338622476486282011-04-14T14:54:00.001-05:002011-04-14T14:55:45.113-05:00Ipod 4th Gen = Strong as snowflakeA letter I wrote to Apple expressing my discontent with the durability of their product.<br /><br /><div id="body" class="article-body"> <p>Dear Apple,</p> <p>I have been a loyal customer for years. I have owned four ipods and cherished every one of them. Although each one has invariably broken, I still replace them because the software design and simplicity of the hardware are unrivaled. Unfortunately, the hardware has apparently gotten too simple. The materials that make up the 4G ipod touch are so flimsy that it almost breaks in your hand.</p> <p>This morning my 3 month old 64GB iPod touch 4G decided that the ground looked like a comfortable place to rest and took a dive from my lap (I was seated) onto the linoleum floor of my class. It wasn't a particularly far fall, as I've had phones, former ipods, laptops and all variety of electronic equipment make the trip before with varying degrees of damage. Usually the damage is minimal, with a few scuffs on the edges being the worst extent. However, this morning, my little delicate state of the art iPod hit the ground and not only cracked the screen so bad that chunks of it are now missing, but it bent the aluminum casing on the corner of the device so that replacing becomes another issue entirely.</p> <p>I am not a physicist, but I have a pretty good concept of gravity, and the distance of the fall seems completely disproportionate to the level of damage received by the device. Upset, but undeterred, I called tech support as soon as I returned from class. Someone promptly answered, and I explained the issue. Not expecting a complimentary repair, I was prepared to pay a fee to have the screen and quite possibly the casing replaced. What I was unprepared for was the price...</p> <p>$199 for the screen replacement alone. $199. $199?!! What?!!! Thats over half of what I paid for the new device in the first place! So you are trying to tell me that not only will Apple not replace the screen with an extended coverage warranty if you purchased one, but you charge an outrageous fee for the replacement of perhaps the most common component part on the iPod! How can you produce a product intended to be carried with a person through the bruising ordeal we lovingly know as life, that falls apart after just the slightest disturbance?!</p> <p>From what I understand about chemistry, there are alloys, plastics, and glass products out there that are capable of withstanding disruptions as strong (or stronger than) a speeding bullet. Apple, you manufacture a sensitive electronic device that you charge an exorbitant sum for, (and because it is an incredible piece of technology the price is probably justified), but the one thing which that price does NOT justify is the delicacy of parts that are most likely to be placed under duress, most notably the screen. If I purchase a product, I expect it to meet a few standards. I have dropped iPods before, from far greater distances on much harder surfaces, and been upset with the scuffs on the corners, but still satisfied that it was still intact and worked fine. This time I am stuck with a mandatory repair, because there is a gaping hole exposing the internal structure of the device and the headphone plug-in has become partially obstructed by a bent piece of metal from the rim.</p> <p>This instance appears to be one of many being faced by my fellow 4th Generation Touch owners. There are multiple message board postings with horror stories of brand new iPod screens shattering in a purse, or breaking on carpet, or not even being able to survive a trip to the store in someone's pocket. The girl with whom I spoke to on tech support even mentioned that her screen shattered after a similar incident last night. Undoubtedly this product went through rigorous testing, to determine if it had the capability to withstand the shocks of everyday life...so my question is how....how could you develop and sell such an expensive and in-demand product which is so poorly engineered that the costs of repairing a simple, common, accidental malfunction are half as much as the original product itself?</p> <p>If the materials used to produce the object are so expensive to repair or replace, then why have more measures not been taken to strengthen them so that repairs will be less common? How could you manufacture iPods that were more durable three years ago than they are now? That is innovation in the wrong direction and for the wrong reasons. I am a cynic, but I don't want to believe that you would knowingly release a product that is less durable than its predecessors. I understand it makes good "business" sense because you can now charge more for replacements and repairs than you would if the machines last forever. You don't make money from one time business, I understand, but one thing Apple used to be known for was top notch customer service, and if one component on your product is likely to break from the slightest disturbance, and then the cost to repair it is so astronomical that merely replacing it becomes a viable option, then it makes sense from a service standpoint to offer a discounted or even complementary repair!!</p> <p>I know you are a public company, and I have made an investment in you. I own a share of your company in the sense that I have faithfully purchased your products and have therefore helped you meet that magical EPS valuation that has allowed your stock to soar. While the shares I own now aren't on paper, they are currently keeping paper weighted to my desk. Is a $350 dollar investment in a share of AAPL worth more than a $350 investment in one of your flagship products? Apparently so. Although the continued sale of the product is what allows the stock to soar, even if the stock lost 50% of its value in two seconds, I could still sell it for more than the relative value of my iPod after an unmercifully short tumble to the floor. Who is more important? The customer or the shareholder?</p> <p>I have already spent thousands of dollars on your products, and I have asked very little in return, since the utility and joy I received from using them have been all the return I needed. However, when the new product you make is so fragile that the slightest disturbance can effectively (in terms of $) render it worthless, I expect a little more in return. All I am asking for is for a reasonable cost of replacing broken parts on your device. I know that there are third party companies which can do the repair cheaper, but since you control the monopoly for the parts, the cost of their service is still reliant on your prohibitively expensive materials you offer.</p> <p>Please, please, please figure out a way to reduce the cost of repairing cracked screens, or include a method for insuring within the warranty so that customers like myself, a student, who can't afford to pay an extra tithe for what should be a cheap repair, aren't left out in the cold with another expensive paper weight.</p> <p>Sincerely,<br />Aaron Wynhausen</p> </div>Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-56540360450200684272011-02-20T03:09:00.002-06:002011-02-20T03:10:00.489-06:00A brief musing on farm subsidies<span style="font-family: courier new;">Perhaps it is time to reconsider farm subsidies? Paying large farms vast sums of money not to grow crops seems counterproductive when commodity prices are rising to all time highs. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">For example: Corn is trading at $302/ton, which is over 75% higher than the price at this time last year and over 100% (double) the average price of corn for the last 30 years. Soybeans, wheat, sugar, beef, and cotton (just to name a few) are all currently trading close to 100% above their 30 year average, with nearly all of the increases coming in the last 4 years. Salt is currently over 300% higher than its 30 year average (although it is still lower than it was during the height of the "economic crisis").</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">The damage caused by this vast jump in the price of basic food products could be catastrophic to places where the people don't have the opulent luxury of eating four course meals or even the option of grabbing a dollar cheese"burger" for a quick lunch. If what the World Bank is peddling is true, that the price increases are due to higher demand and severe weather in vulnerable nations, then why not allow the aptly named "Breadbasket" of the United States roar to life this summer? Subsidies were put in place to maintain a stable price in the market so that the market didn't consume itself and drive the price of crops to unsustainably low levels for farmers. If the prices have risen due to increased demand and the supply is being artificially limited by subsidies, then the subsides have become a double edged sword, disemboweling both the agricultural capacity of the United States and those too poor to afford food all over the world. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">One of the problems is the agricultural lobby, its difficult to pass up getting paid to not produce anything. The average annual payout in farm subsidies over the last ten years is over 16Billion/yr (yes, with a B and a lot of zeros) (2009 numbers). With budget cuts and "austerity" becoming the new mantra for the government, and the global price of commodities flirting with their all time highs (many of which were set in 2009), keeping subsidies at their current levels seems...absurd.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">I am by no means an expert on this issue, and I welcome all criticism and feedback that can help me understand it better. </span>Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-32511229088218918742011-02-20T02:58:00.000-06:002011-02-20T02:59:11.452-06:00Day 6: Oaxaca<span style="font-family: courier new;"> We left Mexico City at about 3:30 Christmas day, a little bit hungover from the high class Christmas party we attended the night before, and hoping that the holiday traffic would be a light. After some initial technical malfunctions with the fuse in the stereo system of Carlos’ car, we hit the mean streets (aka “highways”) of Mexico City. The traffic wasn’t bad, but in true Mexico City fashion we got caught up in a number of choke-points that slowed us down. Whoever designed the highway system in Mexico City should be hunted down, tarred and feathered, then forced to drive every kilometer of his monstrous creation daily. It looks like it was created by a six year old, roads merging with other roads, bridges randomly scattered about to ease congestion on the roads underneath them, required U-turns to access important roads and basically everything else a city of 30 million people need to have congested roads. After an hour long slog through D.F., we finally got on the toll road to Puebla, which was the exact opposite of the roads in the city. It was mostly four lanes, no potholes or topés (speed bumps-a national obsession in Mexico), and fast. The only hiccups came from the tolls, which were surprisingly frequent and expensive as they ranged from 30 to 80 pesos ($2.75 - $6.50). We cruised through Puebla in about an hour and a half and then got on the smaller, not as well maintained road to Oaxaca, which had even more </span><em style="font-family: courier new;">casetas</em><span style="font-family: courier new;"> (tolls). By this time it was starting to get dark so we weren’t able to appreciate the mountains that we were driving over. </span><p style="font-family: courier new;"> </p><p style="font-family: courier new;"><span> </span>We arrived in Oaxaca at about 9, an hour later than we anticipated, but it was worth it because we stopped to buy some <em>tacos de cecina </em>(salted beef)<em> </em>at a little hotel on the way and also to buy some moonshine mezcal from a little tienda at a caseta on the edge of Oaxaca. The tacos were good, the mezcal was scary because we weren’t sure how safe it was…but we proceeded to drink some anyways. Worn out from being in the car all day, and not having a place to sleep for the night, we headed towards <em>zocalo</em> to see if we could score a cheap hostel for the night. The Lonely Planet book that I brought helped us locate one pretty quickly, but it cost about $14 a night and, being too rich for our blood, decided to shop around for an alternative. Downtown Oaxaca has a ridiculous amount of hotels, and since it was Christmas, they were all empty. The Lonely Planet book was from 2006, and about 1/3 of the places that were in it had already shut down or changed ownership. We ended up staying at a quiet little hostel that offered us a room for 80 pesos a person and had a pretty nice rooftop to hang out on. Since we were the only tenants, the place was good for sleeping, not partying. After a quick change of clothes, we ran out to get some grub. There was a little red stand in front of the market that sold a Oaxacan specialty, <em>tlyudas,</em> Carlos had eaten there before and recommended them highly. A <em>tlyuda </em>is basically an enormous toastada that is cooked on a grill with <em>quesillo (</em>queso de oaxaca), beans, and then whatever choice of meat is offered. The shell is crispy, and the inside warm and gooey. Add some salsa, fold it in half and it makes one hell of a late night snack. They cost about 30-40 pesos, but they are big so usually you only need to eat one.</p><p style="font-family: courier new;"> </p><p style="font-family: courier new;"> After stuffing our faces with tlyudas, we decided to go find some trouble...so we went bar hopping. Unfortunately, most of the bars that were around were empty (Christmas), but we found one that had a pretty young, metropolitan crowd and they served hookahs. Beers (<em>chelas) </em>were cheap, so we got down to business. The bar itself was cool, it had retro signs all over the walls, my favorite was one encouraging gringos to ride with Pancho Villa for bags of gold. The DJ that was playing music that sounded like it was from the bar in Star Wars with all the crazy looking aliens, it was kind of surreal to be an alien in a bar with that music playing. By the time we got a table they were out of hookahs, so we opted for a bottle of tequila instead. Armed with a bottle of El Jimador, a bunch of Frescas, some ice and glasses, we were ready to party. We stayed until the bar closed, having finished our bottle and met some locals who knew of an afterbars spot, so we walked/stumbled there. The bar was a little dive about 8 blocks from the first bar, so we were hopelessly lost when we arrived. We walked inside, and it was like one of those scenes from the movies where someone out of place walks into a bar and the whole place gets quiet and looks at the door. Three tall <em>gueros</em> walking into a bar typically reserved for locals, looking back it is funny, but at the time I was drunk and afraid I might get capped. Some girls had come with us, and after we drank a couple of <em>chelas</em> they started to get uneasy and wanted to go. The place was a little bit intimidating…so we got the girls a cab and then got ourselves one to go back to the hostel. So far that night stands as our most crazy party night on this trip…which is crazy because we didn’t even do all that much.</p>Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-7369461318794040212011-02-20T02:57:00.001-06:002011-02-20T02:57:51.728-06:00Pardon My Siesta<span style="font-family: courier new;">Ok, if anyone is reading this and still cares, sorry for leaving off so abruptly. Our internet connections have been spotty at best and I haven’t had the motivation to leave the beach to sit in front of a computer. Can you blame me? I’m staring at crystal clear blue-green water, a warm, inviting sandy beach that stretches for miles around a bay, with pristine waves all over (even though the waves are their lowest of the year, which is good for me). Puerto Escondido is perhaps the most laid back, beautiful paradise on the planet. Right now I’m sitting in a hammock on the balcony of my hotel, watching dozens skydivers lazily drift to the beach as the neverending waves of Zicatella beach get shredded by great surfers. James and our new German friend Katerine are cuddled up together in a hammock. Carlos is engrossed with Fidel Castro’s autbiography. And Lotem, and Isreali surfer is watching the break…and whatever passing eye-candy happens to schlep through the alley underneath our balcony. The weather is perfect, 80 degrees with a crisp sea breeze and we can see the sperm whales migrating through the bay on thir way south for the winter, the only things missing are other good friends and family. But enough about Puerto Escondido for now, I have to write about Oaxaca.</span>Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-79561522186444849732011-02-20T02:56:00.003-06:002011-02-20T02:57:15.705-06:00Days 4/5: Feliz Navidad<div style="font-family: courier new;" class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix"><div><p>Anyone who thinks Christmas was a big deal in the United States needs to come experience it here in Mexico. Whereas, back home, Christmas has slowly morphed into the shopping season between Thanksgiving and Christmas eve, with some obligatory family time and maybe a Christmas dinner thrown in somewhere near the end, in Mexico it is about two things: family and baby Jesus.</p><p> </p><p>On Christmas eve James and I went shopping for a few small gifts to give our hosts since they are allowing us to stay in their house for free, even cooking us meals and cleaning up after us (well, Carlos' mother at least). It was refreshing to go to a store and not be assaulted by Santa, begging me to buy whatever was being hawked by a cardboard cutout in his likeness, with a display of shiny ribbons and bows. Granted, it was not entirely inescapable, some stores still went a little bit over the top, but it was refreshing to see a degree of maturity in the way Christmas was treated in the commerce sector. The one uniquely mexican touch were these enormous, paper mache stars covered in shiny tinsel that have appeared in front of many <em>tiendas</em> here in the city. Most of the shops and taquerias closed early yesterday, which was strange, because the streets are usually bustling but yesterday evening they were strangely quiet and empty. About 10 pm, mass ended, and the entire country poured out into the streets, dressed in their finest clothes with all the women cradling baby Jesus idols in their arms like a real infant. I couldn't help but laugh, it was a bachelors nightmare, to see thousands of women marching towards you, each one carrying a baby in their arms, unsure whether to run or accept life as the father of a million rug-rats...</p><p> </p><p>We were invited to go to Carlos' uncle's house for a family Christmas party, and since I left my family behind (even though I invited them to come) I was honored to be accepted by theirs. We arrived at a beautiful modern mansion, not quite knowing what to expect. We were greeted by Carlos' cousins at the gate and they led us inside to one of the most beautiful homes I have ever seen. According to Carlos' father, the family is tight knit like the Corleones, aka, mafia style...and it showed. Inside were incredible works of art, portraits, still-lifes, landscapes, you name it, adorning every wall, statues in the corners, and the biggest gramophone (original record players) collection in Latin America. There were about 40 people inside all dressed up, mostly middle aged and older, sitting in the living room snacking on hor'dourves and sipping fine tequila and Malbec. I instantly felt a little out of place dressed in my travel gear and being a gringo, but Carlos walked James and I around the room and introduced us to all his aunts, uncles and cousins one at a time. The owner of the house, Salvadore, was incredibly gracious, and was eager to show off his incredible collection of gramophones, phonographs, and other ancient sound producing machines. He must have had millions invested in the collection, I've never seen anything like it.</p><p> </p><p>Dinner was served at midnight, a Mexican tradition on Christmas, and the fare was delicious. A shrimp and vegetable soup to begin, followed by courses of salad, ham, turkey, fettucini (a little out of place, but still good), and then a dish called <em>bacalao</em> from Spain made from cod, shrimp, vegetables and spices that utterly melts in your mouth. After gorging ourselves because we waited until midnight to eat, the dessert trays arrived. Plates of candied fruit, baklava, flan, chocolate mousse, cookies, cake, halva, and chocolates were paraded in front of me, my teeth began to ache immediately. The party really got into full gear after dessert, when all the gifts under the tree were set out on the table, and then passed around until everyone had one. Then, a pair of dice were brought out, and everyone got a chance to roll them. If you rolled an even number, you were allowed to trade your gift with anyone in the room. It became a mad-house as everyone wanted to exchange, nobody kept the gift they started with but I ended up getting mine back in the very last trade. The gifts were all very small things, they were actually called "joke gifts" because the emphasis was not on the gift itself but instead on the act of being selfless and giving up something that you receive. </p><p>We hung out and talked for a bit, but since our plan is to head south towards Oaxaca today, and it was already 3 am, we decided to head back and turn in. So here I sit, waiting on the final word about the car and for James to pack so we can hit the road. Christmas in Mexico is quite an experience. The Catholic tradition makes Christmas a more sacred affair. The focus is on being with family, on attending mass, and on sharing a feast. It was humbling to have been accepted with such open arms by the family, and it was a Christmas that I'll probably never forget.</p><p> </p><p>Feliz Navidad.</p></div></div>Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-63834100577978795512011-01-01T20:16:00.002-06:002011-02-20T02:55:16.023-06:00Day 3: Coyoacan<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); line-height: 16px; font-family: courier new;font-family:'lucida grande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;font-size:11px;" ><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;">So far the extent of my trip has been somewhat limited to consumption. I have been grubbing nonstop and chasing it with delicious Cerveza Indio. Hedonism at its finest. Yesterday I ate one of the most delicious things I've ever tried, it was called "huitlacoche." Huitlacoche is roughly translates into "corn shit" in the native <em>Nuahtl </em>language that some indigenous tribes in Mexico spoke before the Spanish came through a-raping, pillaging and enslaving. It is basically just a slimy black fungus that grows on corn and destroys the crop. However, like many seemingly disgusting things, it is considered a delicacy and is often difficult to find. It is typically cooked with some onion, pepper and whatever other secret ingredients the little old ladies at taco stands use to make it irresistable. Yesterday, I had it prepared in a quesodilla, but not the flaccid tex-mex style where a tortilla is stuffed with ingredients and grilled, I had it prepared Mexican street food style, aka deep fried. It has been well noted that deep frying food is the most delicious way of cooking ever, especially after a little bit of alcohol...</p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;"> </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;">We were in Coyoacan, which is a beautiful, quiet neighborhood in the southern half of the city. Coyoacan is definitely upper-middle class, the streets are lined with ancient trees that have been there for centuries, the houses are enormous and surrounded by 8 ft fences, the shops and restaurants are very posh and expensive...in other words it smashes the preconceived notions of a poor and dirty Mexico shared by many of my fellow patriots. Just off the main square of the neighborhood there was a little food market that is widely considered one of the best places to eat in Mexico (at least according to Lonely Planet). James was off buying the most expensive haircut in Mexico (300 pesos!!) so Carlos and I walked to the market to get a quick snack. A stall advertising quesodillas caught our attention, so we sat down. Carlos quickly noticed they had huitlacoche on the menu and ordered one for me. Our little old chef took some fresh masa (corn mash that tortillas are made from), flattened it out, stuffed it full of Oaxoahan cheese and rotten corn, and dropped it in the deep fryer. After about 3 minutes I had a crispy, steaming quesodilla sitting in front of me, begging to be devoured (in spanish of course). I garnished it with a little salsa verde and sour cream and attacked. The flavor was incredible, it was like eating a crispy truffle stuffed with corn chowder and the tastiest mozzerella ever. (Does that even make sense?!) Add the rich flavor of sour cream, and the spice from the salsa verde, and you have the perfect food. I proceeded to eat three more even though they were enormous and 25 ($2) a piece. </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;"> </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;">After the feast, we returned to downtown to pick up the jacket that James left at the hostel. The place was empty, but the bartender was there so we sat down for a drink. Incredibly, the bartender recognized me instantly, even though I hadn't had a drink at his bar for two years. If you are really bored, and reading this, then you can go look at the pictures i took from the last trip I took to Mexico City and see a picture of the bartender wearing a luchador mask and making drinks. Really nice guy. So we stopped and had a few drinks then walked around Zocolo to see all the lights that had been strung up around the square. It was a really surreal experience, as thousands of families were walking around with their children reveling in the holiday festivities. Flashing lights illuminated the sky and I almost felt as though I were hallucinating, without taking anything.</p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;"> </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;">The plan was to go to a badass club downtown, so we went back to Carlos' to get ready. We ended up sitting down and talking with his dad, an eccentric englishman who travelled to Mexico when he was 22, fell in love and has lived here ever since. His man-cave was filled with books, tequila, rocks and a number of other interesting things. He reminds me a lot of my dad, with a big bushy beard and witty, dirty jokes, I bet that my dad and Carlos' dad would get along very well. David (his dad) was an avid poker player, so while waiting for the club to fill up, we started playing poker and killing liters of Indio and taking shots of tequila......seven hours later, we were still playing poker. The club was forgotten and I watched the sun come up, still drunk. Damn. </p></span>Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-25009488216377093932011-01-01T20:15:00.002-06:002011-02-20T02:55:00.305-06:00Day 2: Tacos, Tacos, Tacos<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); line-height: 16px; font-family: courier new;font-family:'lucida grande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;font-size:11px;" ><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;">How many tacos can someone eat in one day? I think that yesterday James and I packed down at least 30 a piece. Tacos for breakfast, lunch, dinner and the infamous fourthmeal. There is something about the crunchy, succulent little things that are irresistable and will never get old. The ingredients are simple, fresh corn tortillas, marinated pork thats been slow cooked on a spit (known as <em>pastor</em>), a slice of pineapple that is cooked on the spit with the pastor, cilantro, and then diced onion are smothered on top. On the table you typically have your choice of five or six different salsas, each one with its degree of spice. I think the best is the <em>salsa aquacate,</em> which is a mild avocado and tomatillo salsa that makes a perfect compliment to extra spicy mexican <em>pico de gallo</em>, which blows the mild stuff we have in Missouri out of the water. Add a little bit of fresh lime juice and you are devouring the ultimate cheap meal. Depending on the taqueria you go to, the price ranges from 6 to 15 pesos per taco ($.50 to $1.15). If there were small, street taquerias serving pastor tacos on the streets outside of bars in college towns, they would make millions. </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;"> </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;">Although thanks to my taco and mezcal binge from the night before, I woke up at 6 am on Tuesday with heartburn that felt like an alien was about to burst out my chest and devour everyone in the hostel. It took about two agonizing hours and two liters of water to finally drowned the alien, and I made a mental not to put spicy sauce on any late night tacos that I eat. We had only booked one night in the hostel, since James' friend Carlos had some extra space in his house and offered to let us stay there for the remainder of our time in Mexico City. Since our hostel was right next to <em>zocolo</em> which is the city center, and Carlos lived in <em>El Olivo</em> which is a nice neighborhood in the southwest of the city, we had a couple of hours to explore before Carlos could come pick us up. So we locked our bags up at the hostel and went for a stroll. Stopped for tacos a couple of liters of Indio, another delicious Mexican beer that deserves to be sold up north, checked out the shops that had their holiday fare on display, and walked through zocolo, where an enormous ice rink had been set up. It is hilarious watching Mexicans ice skate. There was an enormous line, and the rink was full, but many of the skaters were stuck to the wall, afraid to venture out into the vast expanse of ice for fear of humiliating themselves by falling and facing ridicule from all their cowardly friends who clung to the safety of the wall.</p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;"> </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;">One thing that is impossible to overlook when in an important location such as Zocolo, is the overbearing police presence. The streets were incredibly crowded, so much so it was difficult to navigate through them, but there were at least two or three policemen on every single block. Some were directing traffic, making sure that no crazy drivers ran over the army of pedestrians, but the rest were just standing around mean-mugging the two gringos that stood a head taller than them and were walking around like they owned the place. There were also trucks full of police in battle gear, sporting brand new M4s with a small machine gun mounted to the top, looking like they were going into a war zone and not into Mexico's main shopping district...although now that I think about it, after trying to squeeze through the throngs of people, having an automatic weapon would certainly make things easier. Also having worked in a mall during the holiday season, I can pretty safely say that shopping centers are war zones, so the firepower was understandable. Of course the real reason for the police is the ever-present threat of<em>narco</em> violence that has rocked Mexico and kept the attention of us in the United States for the past couple of years. I'll probably write a little more about it later, but thankfully most of the violence is centered in the north, along the border, and not in Mexico City and the southern portion where we will be traveling. </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;"> </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;">Carlos braved the traffic and picked us up at about 1:30. Already 10 tacos and two liters of beer in for the day, for some reason going to the zoo sounded like a good idea. So we grabbed our bags and piled in the car to head off towards the zoo. James, in haste, forgot his jacket and scarf in the hostel, typical. We met up with Callejas (aka Gordo), a rugby buddy of James' and friend of Carlos', and explored the zoo for a few hours. Carlos then drove us out to his house in El Olivo and thanks to all the beer we drank in the middle of the day, took a much needed siesta. After we woke up, we walked to the mecca of tacos (according to James) Tacos El Olivo. A small restaurant on the main street that serves up the biggest, fattest, most delicious tacos in the city, and we proceeded to eat about 10 a piece, which is no small feat considering their size. </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;"> </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;">We hung out for a bit with this neighbor kid named Eric, and he brought over some poker chips to play Texas Hold'em. Poker rules in Mexico are a little different, for instance, in the United States, it is well known that in all matters of weed and poker, the flow always goes to the left. However, in Mexico, you deal and bet to the right. It was a little confusing whenever Eric would deal, but we finally got him conditioned to play the "correct" way. Poker didn't last too long, not enough players and with no money on the table there is little incentive to play frugal. So we decided to go play a little bit of 2 on 2 basketball on a court next door to Carlos' house. One thing I love about traveling to other countries is how much my basketball skills improve by just crossing the border. Back home, my basketball skills are hilarious, as in, people laugh when they watch me play because I am so bad. But in other countries, I can kick ass on the court...although if I were to step on to a soccer pitch I would be destroyed. Of course, with James on the court as well, my delusions of grandeur quickly disappear since he actually IS good at basketball and makes me look about as talented as those who don't know how to play. After the basketball game, a couple of young kids (about 4 and 7 years old) from the neighborhood started playing soccer on the court, so we asked them if we could play and they had a great time running around with a couple of gringos. We may have even been the first they had ever met. Even though they were young, Miguel, the 7 year old, had a damn dirty mouth. At one point he asked James if he liked "milk", and then when James said yes, he replied, "then bend over." </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;"> </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;">Anyways, two days in and I have yet to sit down and watch TV for even 30 seconds. I can slowly feel parts of my brain that have been conditioned to become idle, due to all the damn TV that I've watched, slowly come back to life. I would like to try to make it through the entire trip without watching more than 10 hours of TV (I mean, a little bit is inevitable) in an attempt to break the habit that I've picked up of watching hours a day. A comfortable sofa, 40 inch high definition tv and HBO make for a dangerous combination...ask my roomate Curtis. </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;"> </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;">Time to get breakfast. Peace!</p></span>Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-76175066168147279422011-01-01T20:13:00.002-06:002011-02-20T02:54:40.000-06:00Mexico Day 1<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); line-height: 16px; font-family: courier new;font-family:'lucida grande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;font-size:11px;" ><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;">First day in Mexico and some long time cravings have been filled. REAL tacos de pastor, cerveza Victoria and some good old fashioned Mezcal. </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;"> </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;">James and I left Joplin at 8 am for our noon flight in Tulsa. That was a mistake, Tulsa's airport is much like Kansas City's you can get checked in and on your plane in ten minutes. So we had a few hours of sitting on our ass twiddling our thumbs...people watching. The security measures in the airport didn't seem too arcane. So what? They have a semi-nude xray picture of me? I'm not known for my modesty so it doesn't particularly bother me. I didn't get the infamous pat down because I wasn't an ass who protested against the screener. The flight was a bit bumpy, but we made it to Houston and had to wait a couple of more hours before the long awaited flight to Mexico City. We landed during rush hour and were stuck in bumper to bumper traffic for an hour and a half. A common scene in Mexico city, even though the government tries to curb the traffic problem by restricting certain cars from driving on certain days of the week. It doesn't seem to help. I can only imagine if LA or NY tried to implement a similar rule, people would literally shit a brick and maybe even stage a violent coup. James' friend Carlos and his girlfriend Lorena picked us up, they are very nice and speak perfect english. Lucky me.</p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;"> </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;">We went to Condesa, which is an upscale neighborhood loaded with restaurants, bars and shops teeming with night life. We followed the scent of slowly roasting pastor and pineapple to a corner taqueria a few blocks from where we parked. It was about 10 pesos for a taco, approximately .85 cents. They gave us a hopper with about 6 different types of salsa, all of them spicy and delicious, so we ordered about 8 tacos apiece and gorged ourselves over Negro Modelos and Cerveza Victorias. Lorena had to go meet up with some friends, and Rat, one of James and Carlos' buddies arrived to go drinking with us. We hopped around to a few bars and stopped by a hookah lounge for a smoke session and finally stumbled our way to the mezcal bar down the street. </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;"> </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;">Mezcal bars are a glorious invention. Imagine sixty unlabled bottles filled with a strange clear liquid. And a seedy looking guy standing behind a bar that is completely filled with Star Wars figurines. The place was packed, even though it was monday, and we had to get a table outside. The waitress came with menus, which were just pieces of old cardboard that had been ripped to a roughly equal size with some rough handwriting that displayed the choices and prices. There were dozens of choices, all mezcal, ranging from 30 pesos to 70 pesos, or about 2.50 to 6 dollars. The difference between mezcal and tequila is like the difference between scotch and bourbon. Tequila = bourboun, mezcal = scotch. Each variety has its own unique flavor and strength, and most have a delicious smokey flavor that reminds me of my favorite Islay scotches.</p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;"> </p><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin: 0px; line-height: 1.5em;">I picked one with an interesting name, far too drunk to know what it meant or recall it now, and the others ordered their own along with a round of beers, and a block of queso de oaxaca. Wine and cheese? Fuck that. Mezcal and cheese is better. Not quite as cosmopolitan, but a hell of a lot more fun. Especially with the queso de oaxaca, which is the white cheese that most queso dip is made out of in the states. It is like extra delicious mozzerella with a texture like string cheese. The waitress brought our shots, the beers, the cheese and some fresh orange slices that had been dusted in salt and cayanne pepper, and we proceeded to indulge for about two hours until the place started winding down. Lorena returned with a few of her friends and we cracked dirty jokes and traded stories (although mostly in spanish, my ear needs some work still) until it was time to take James and I to the hostel we were staying in. After about a thirty minute drive (Mexico City is fucking enormous) we made it, checked in at 2 am, and promptly crashed. Now, I'm pissed off that we passed out so early because I missed my chance to see the full lunar eclipse that was just beginning. Anyways, it was a fantastic, albeit a little bit too expensive start to the trip. We will be spending the next few days in Mexico City, then after Christmas making the journey south to Oaxaca and then on to the beach at Puerto Escondito. Carlos has the break off and has a car, so no need to get robbed or stabbed on a bus or pay a boatload for a taxi. I'll keep everyone posted and try to get some pictures, although I'm pretty sure my camera is a piece of crap so I'm not sure how good they will turn out. Adios, we are off to explore the beautiful city!</p></span>Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-52776855880439032232008-04-12T03:21:00.004-05:002008-04-12T04:07:52.526-05:00The hiatusWow. <br />Its been a long time since I posted on here. I don't know what drove me to return to my lost and long forgotten blog, but here I am...four years older and not nearly as cute. <br /><br />Reading over my old posts brings forth a disgusted but nostalgic feeling. Was I really that young? Was I really that immature? Did I really think I was funny? I wish I could say that I am a wiser person than I once was, but I'm afraid it isn't the case. Four long years of drug, alcohol, and academic abuse have left me more cynical and depressed than ever. I can't even remember a single significant event that happened when I was sixteen, other than losing my virginity...and I don't even remember her name. Is this what I've come to? Attempting to reminisce about the good old days of puberty? Shoot me now.<br /><br />God how the times have changed. One of my last posts was just before the presidential election in 2004...and it feels like I'm just waking up from a four year nightmare. I can honestly say that nothing good has happened to me since then. College is nothing but drunken shell of the idealism it once used to embody. I'm going to be honest, I didn't go to college to get an education. Before I even applied I already knew everything I ever wanted to...I just wanted to party. Countless wasted hours later, I have finally realized that the only way to really get an education is to go out into the world and figure shit out on my own...jesus, my dad was right. Mark Twain once wrote something along the lines of 'When I was fourteen my father was so ignorant that I wanted to run away and live like Huck Finn, but when I was twenty one I couldn't believe how much he had learned in seven years...' While that is obviously not what he really said, I am too lazy to use the god of the internet (thats google for those of you who haven't seen the light) to find the actual quote, but you know what I'm trying to say. I was stupid and didn't listen because I thought I knew everything...and I did. I have known my father has been right for years, but I have willingly chosen to not listen. I don't know why. I'll ask a psychiatrist someday and get a wrong answer.<br /><br />In the meantime I'll keep drinking beer, writing in my revived blog and lamenting the fact that I can't commit myself to anything.<br /><br />My whole life up to this point has been a failure...and I don't see it changing anytime soon. I keep making up these bullshit dreams for myself even though I know that none of them will ever come true. For example: I want to someday become a United States Senator because I feel like the system is royally fucked up and I think I can change it. That is the line I keep spouting off to any authority figure who I come in contact with. They think that I have dreams, I know that its just an excuse. I recently joined my university's school government with the hopes of furthering my phantom future political career. I thought that getting to play government, and act like a leader would make people more likely to believe me when I told them my delusions of grandeur. It took me about a week to realize that school government is a total fucking joke. I showed up to about two meetings before the powers to be decided I should be a "committee chairman" because I showed dedication by not skipping meetings. Even though I didn't know shit about budgets, they made me the chairman of the budget committee. Its a crying fucking shame that college students have gotten so apathetic that I, one of the laziest people I know (second only to my friend Chris), am considered a motivated leader...which I guess means there will never be another revolution because the youth doesn't give a damn. <br /><br />Oh well, I guess this is the end of my hiatus...which is probably a bad thing. <br /><br />I'm tired.<br />Good night.<br /><br /><br />P.S. Don't spam me, I will hunt you down and kick your ass.Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-56498273638567588192008-04-12T02:57:00.000-05:002008-04-12T02:59:47.146-05:00I love this picture<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjyhjEgSBMnkD1MNnjLUp-JGeEGOCsj-zoJjt_y7uANqqFn1aknKtSTpCjw6OFsmfxV0jcOwUAAI2RF6gLU4zu2PfB8vH_Oc6BnCNywLwfYWFRDqPLyTEBab3j8CdgZZ0u59m5/s1600-h/100_1582.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjyhjEgSBMnkD1MNnjLUp-JGeEGOCsj-zoJjt_y7uANqqFn1aknKtSTpCjw6OFsmfxV0jcOwUAAI2RF6gLU4zu2PfB8vH_Oc6BnCNywLwfYWFRDqPLyTEBab3j8CdgZZ0u59m5/s400/100_1582.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188265389993448626" /></a>Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-1109127869229507822005-02-22T20:58:00.000-06:002005-02-22T21:04:29.230-06:00She said noNuff said, she said no!Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-1109127190852246262005-02-22T20:53:00.000-06:002005-02-22T20:53:10.853-06:00<a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/153/1067/640/KIF_01211.jpg'><img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/153/1067/320/KIF_01211.jpg'></a><br />Finally a fresh picture of me...enjoy! <a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'></a>Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-1108164542276511072005-02-11T17:22:00.000-06:002005-02-11T17:29:02.276-06:00I have a reader...stillEven after the weeks I go without posting, some kind stalker continues to read my posts and take to heart the bullshit i spew out...<br />All I have to say is stalk away<br /><br />(Just keep 500 yards away from me at all times, and the internet is good for you, gives you all the vitamins you need to keep you healthy wealthy and wise...except vitamin THC...)<br /><br />Peace,<br />SprintSprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-1108089790341848232005-02-10T20:28:00.000-06:002005-02-10T20:52:21.066-06:00A new challengeThis Valentines day presents a new challenge for me, one I have been gearing for since freshman year, I am going to ask the girl of my dreams to prom. Yes, I have had a crush on her since i first laid eyes on her, but I have never mustered the nuts to actually ask her on a date, which is a first to me, since I am usually outgoing and have no problems asking out beautiful girls. <br />She is just insanely hot, all state tennis, shy, quiet, and smart...the perfect girl basically, this is my plan so far.... <br />1)I wrote a Valentines Day candy gram for her to meet me at the school tennis courts at 3:10. <br />2)I am dressing up in a dress shirt, tie and slacks. <br />3) I am giving her a flower of some sort, my date comittee and I have decided on tulips. <br />4) I am giving her the flower, then saying something along the lines of "May I have the honor of escorting you to prom?" <br /><br /><br />Basically she is going to shoot me down like the Red Baron, but hey, its all good...<br />I will save money on prom and do something useful with it, like buy food, will prom keep you alive?<br />I don't think so.<br /><br />Wish me luck,<br />SprintSprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-1104040976966381092004-12-25T22:22:00.000-06:002004-12-26T00:02:56.966-06:00Christmas haul...Well, one more Christmas has come and gone and amazingly I survived being a cheapskate for one more year, I spent a whopping.... 0$ on gifts this year, instead I picked out gifts for other people and my parents bought them. Now if only I can get them to do that for the next 20 years I will be in pretty good shape during the holiday season until age 36...
<br />The real reason I took precious time out of my poker playing was to brag about all the wonderful things I got, which was really one semi-decent guitar, and some clothing...but on with the list:
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<br /><strong>Guitar 'Kit':</strong> Included off brand semi-decent Strat based guitar/amp...actually the coolest gift I got, I now own an electric guitar, and can finally improve my skills thanks to my wicked awesome brother...It wins the "Best Gift" award...
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<br /><strong>Generic Watch: </strong>Wow, I get a crappy watch every year, they break by New Years...even if they are left in the box. I use my cell phone as a clock now, why my mom insits on buying me one every year?..I have no idea, I plan on finding out how much a "Shitty Watch" sells for on Ebay here in the next few weeks.
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<br /><strong>Yonex tennis racket: </strong>Wow, that was an unexpected gift, I played tennis one year, and I was last on the team, I quit before the season ended, yet for some reason my parents decided to spend $160 on a professional tennis racket. I'm not planning on playing tennis again, so I am going to find out how much "Pimp Ass Tennis Racket" sells for on Ebay. In the meantime I am going to use the picture of Anna Kournikova that came on the front as masterbation material...
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<br /><strong>Red dress shirt/matching tie: </strong>Pretty nice shirt/tie combo from JC Penny's or someplace like that, definatly classy....
<br /><strong>Tie with flames on it: </strong>Incredibly redneck tie from Wal-Mart, made from the same material as the curtains in a sleazy hotel in downtown Vegas. This tie was bought under the impression it would also fit the red shirt: Black tie that looks like its on fire...no, it is a terrible gift, what the hell was my mom thinking, any redeeming qualities from the shirt and matching tie were just thrown out the window of a speeding bullet train.
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<br /><strong>Miniatre Tool Kit: </strong>A tool kit with miniature screwdrivers and such, only useful if you happen to be an elf working on microchips. The heads on the screwdrivers are so small that you cant even tell what kind of screwdriver it is, in fact, they all look like sharpened points. The fourteenth most useless gift ever, i hope they didn't pay more than 24 cents for it.
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<br /><strong>Plastic Boomerang: </strong>Any cool points gained by giving something offbeat like a boomerang was lost when the $1.99 price tag was left on...
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<br /><strong>Shirt/Jeans combo from The Gap: </strong>Makes me feel sexy, not like the dirty little whore I am, nuff said...
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<br /><strong>The Complete Extended Editions of Lord of the Rings: </strong>They find ways to make these things longer every time they release them on DVD. The box set includes two DVD's of EACH FILM, one with commentary, one not, and TWO documentery DVD's for EACH FILM. They also extended each movie from anywhere between 30 minutes to 50 minutes, making all three movies a combined 35 hours long. Yet they still managed to leave many important parts of the book out. That was half the gift, for each seperate film there are also TWO discs packed full of documenteries...Total number of documenteries associated with the movies to: 42...not including the ones the History Channel will do on the making of the making of the making of the documentery about the exact spot chosen for Aragorn to stand on the 13,231st frame of The Two Towers. The documenteries range from the making of Gollum to Commentary by the assistant cameramans coffee bitch (they call him the "errand boy") Overall the 12 seperate DVD's have over 200 hours of viewing time. I plan on watching about half of Return of the King sometime between now and the time i graduate college. The rest will gather dust with that great theatrical masterpiece "Joyride" i got for my birthday last year. ( You know who you are, what the hell were you thinking...Joyride?!) Not that i have anything against LOTR, but allowing my ass to numb for 188 hours while watching the making of a 3 hour movie isnt my idea of a good time.
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<br /><strong>Candy:</strong> Assorted chocolate items, some candy canes, good stuff...
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<br />and finally...
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<br /><strong>The Encyclopedia of Modern Bodybuilding by Arnold Shwarzenegger: </strong>At a whopping 736 pages the book itself is almost as big as the man who wrote it at his prime in 1980. Basically the book is a gigantic tome of weightlifting and bodybuilding knowledge complete with.......the most disgusting pictures of the most ripped oily men in the tightest underwear you will ever see. They cover every page, each picture complete with commentary of the great Ahnold himself. I quote: <em>"Posing for Joe always ended up giving me a terrific workout", </em>and many other much more risque pictures and quotes. Basically, the book is all about showing off these mountains of muscle in the most girly poses they can pull off to flex every disgustingly bulbous muscle on their body. This book has opened my eyes, I just realized that some guy named Franco Columbo has arms that are easily bigger than my torso. Every picture in the book shows way to much skin, seeing as they cant seem to wear anything bigger than a teensy thong...and these are not hot super models, these are BIG UGLY MEN WITH MORE MUSCLE MASS THAN A HORSE. Why the HELL did my dad get me this book?!
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<br />That wraps up about what i got.
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<br />What I wanted: A fixed car, and a 40 gig IPOD, those were all i asked for, instead I was cursed with the Encyclopedia of Modern Bodybuilding....
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<br />Until next year, ill post again....
<br />sprint
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<br />Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-1099445482789696742004-11-02T17:21:00.000-06:002004-11-04T19:59:32.646-06:00Election 2008 and beyond..OK, skipping over all the stuff that has happened since my last real update, I have decided on a few things to do with this ever so coveted free space of mine on the World Wide Web (thank you Al Gore, you made the world a better place for me)
<br />The first thing I am going to do is stop whining about what happened to me, what is new in my life, and what my day was like, that shit is boring, I am going to write about things that pique my intrest, and the occasional crazy but funny shit I do.
<br />The second thing I am going to do is stop writing about the illegal things I have done, because writing them on here got me in trouble, which was bad news, I will only write about the semi-legal things I have done, such as things that are legal when I am older, if you want to know about all my misdemeanors and felonies, consult the JPD.
<br />The third thing I am going to do is promise quality posts, no more bullshit, and I pledge to make it funnier, more appealing and less gay...
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<br />On to the election......
<br />The day is Nov. 2, Kerry just lost Joplin High School in a landslide, i found out some wonderful things about my school today, that being 2/3 of the school are fucking morons. Kerry was beaten worse than a bunch of midgets in a game of basketball. But, who gives a rats ass about the election at Joplin High School, because it is in a conservative section of the US, and Kerry will win the Presidancy anyways... You read it here first America, with 1% of the precincts in and Bush winning the electoral vote 39 - 3, I say John F. Kerry will win the election. (editors note, this is now the 4th, Kerry lost, i am now adding a giant "Fuck You" section at the end of this)
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<br />Since <a href="http://www.collegehumor.com/election/" target="_new">Erection '04</a> (<span style="color:#ff0000;">VERY PORNISH, NOT SAFE FOR WORK OR SCHOOL</span><span style="color:#000000;">)</span> is almost over, I am moving my big beautiful hazel eyes on to Election 2008. Who will be running? Who will win? Will I still be single by then? The answers are all the same, yes.
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<br />Who will be running - I think that since both parties will have realized that celeberties make better canidates, they will run two celeberties in election '08. The Republicans, seeing Ahnolds success in "<em>Kahlifornya</em>" will most definatly nominate him for their party's canidate. Democrats on the other hand, not being very bright about holding the power in the highest executive office will put Ben Affleck up as their party's canidate. Why Ben? He is an outspoken Democrat and Red Sox fan that has made many wonderful box office blockbusters such as Gigli and Paycheck, not a washed up shitty ugly ass actor who got played by the loosest star in Hollywood, and then there was Jennifer Lopez, the loosest star in Puerto Rico too....
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<br />I just realized that I will only be 20 when election 2008 rolls around, which is really getting me down, because that means I am not legal to vote drunk. If I had to make a sober decision between Arnold and Ben, I might just not vote....of course then P Diddy will cap my white cracka ass, so I will be in a bind. I will probably get drunk anyways, and then when vote for Ben, sell my soul to the devil, and become a man named Big Lou's bitch, not necisarilly in that order.
<br />Of course by that point I will have most likely rescended into rampant alcoholism and whoring myself out to fat women for 100 bucks a piece to support it, and have completely forgotten that there was such a thing as democracy. (wait I forgot, there isnt, the electon was <a href="http://www.10eastern.com/images/FoundPhotos/images/6-1/recording,%20hamburgler,%20kyxcd%20019.jpg" target="_new">stolen</a> again, democracy is dead, long live Ronald)
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<br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">(The following is adult in nature and very dirty, I am sorry if i offend you and this makes you think less of me, I am sorry, but I have some pent up anger and need to get rid of it)</span>
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<br />Of course, the odds are that won't happen, and you will be casting your vote for Wynhausen/Davis 2020, just because I am badass and would win the election, make the world Utopia, and Detroit would still be hell. More on my election aspirations later...but now I have a GIANT FUCK YOU section for people i hate right now:
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<br />Fuck you Karl Rove, you are a fucking DICK, you are a shady ass man who does nothing but assasinate the character of those who you don't like, and make the bad canidate win, you are evil.
<br />Fuck you Dick Cheyney, you are evil, I hate you, you are so bad you turned your daughter lesbian, you are corrupt and you are a greedy greedy man.
<br />Fuck you George Bush, you are a puppet, you will drive the world to hell, I hope you get impeached, and lose your repuation.
<br />Fuck you Donald Rumsfeld, you are the devils representative on Earth, and you are a pathological liar.
<br />Fuck you Diebold Voting Systems, I could fucking hack your servers, and I know nothing about hacking, nice work throwing the election for the Dick and the Son of a Bush.
<br />Fuck you Ben Affleck, I hate you die and rot in hell.
<br />Fuck you Fox News, I want to drop trou and squeeze a cleveland steamer on the chest of that really hot conservative anchor.
<br />Fuck you country music, making people commit suicide since 1901, you bastards.
<br />Fuck you Tony Blair, I hate you, and the English parliament too.
<br />Fuck you Eminem, I dont know why, but you would say the same thing to me.
<br />Fuck you Paul Wolfowitz, you dont get the name "Prince of Darkness" for nothing.
<br />Fuck you Satan, you have yet to defeat me on the field of battle, you owe me a salad tossing.
<br />Fuck you MU, Nebraska beat you, you SUCK. (go big red)
<br />Fuck you everything i forgot to mention, I will get to you sooner or later.....
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<br />*WHEW* i am glad i got that off my chest, sorry for all the explitives and the porn, i promise to make the next one PG-13. Until next time my faithful readers who have waited for a post these past few months...Sorry about the length, I am a novelest, what can I say...
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<br />Peace, Love, Harmony, the color green, and the color red, the color blue, and music...
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<br />Sprint
<br />Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-1098043422242687882004-10-17T15:03:00.000-05:002004-10-17T15:03:42.243-05:00<a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/153/1067/640/blacki%20002.jpg'><img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/153/1067/320/blacki%20002.jpg'></a><br />Me, being studly while dressing nice. <a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'></a>Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-1097432164047082912004-10-10T13:04:00.000-05:002004-10-10T13:16:04.046-05:00Some cool shit<a href="http://www.electoral-vote.com/"><img border="0" src="http://www.electoral-vote.com/ev.png" alt="Click for www.electoral-vote.com" width="144" height="96" /></a>
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<br />yes, that is the current electoral vote predictor, go Kerry...
<br />George W. Bush you are a fucking moron, go do some coke.
<br />Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-1093405878315434382004-08-24T22:25:00.000-05:002004-08-24T22:51:18.316-05:00My Top 40 Songs of Tuesday NightI'm fucking bored, so just for shits and giggles here are the 40 top songs of Tuesday night. If you don't know of the song/band, check them out, or die.
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<br />1. The Killers - Somebody Told Me
<br />2. Beck - Loser
<br />3. Scissor Sisters - Laura
<br />4. The Secret Machines - Breathe
<br />5. Lit - My Own Worst Enemy
<br />6. The Walkmen - We've Been Had
<br />7. Harvey Danger - Flagpole Sitta
<br />8. ACDC - Thunderstruck
<br />9. Ween - Baby Bitch
<br />10. Old 97's - Won't Be Home
<br />11. Guster - Amsterdam
<br />12. Radiohead - Paranoid Android
<br />13. Fugazi - Waiting Room
<br />14. Dishwalla - Somewhere in the Middle
<br />15. Modest Mouse - Dramamine
<br />16. Eve 6 - Inside Out
<br />17. Ben Folds Five - Army
<br />18. Superchunk - Good Dreams
<br />19. Fuel - Shimmer
<br />20. Neutral Milk Hotel - Holland 1945
<br />21. Wilco - I Am a Wheel
<br />22. Interpol - Obstacle 1
<br />23. Stereogram - Walkie Talkie Man
<br />24. Franz Ferdinand - Dark of the Matinee
<br />25. Gomez - Machismo
<br />26. Gang of Four - Damaged Goods
<br />27. Dandy Warhols - Bohemian Like You
<br />28. Mission of Burma - Thats When I Reach for My Revolver
<br />29. The Pony's - Looking Out a Mirror
<br />30. Pedro the Lion - A Mind of Her Own
<br />31. Modest Mouse - Talking Shit About a Pretty Sunset
<br />32. Oasis - Wonderwall
<br />33. Everclear - Father of Mine
<br />34. The Libertines - Time for Heroes
<br />35. The Concretes - Lonely as Can Be
<br />36. The Shins - Kissing the Lipless
<br />37. REM - Whats the Frequency Kennith
<br />38. The Velvet Underground - Heroin
<br />39. Collective Soul - Spit Me Out
<br />40. Blur - Song 2
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<br />All right, those are the top 40 songs to me, at this moment in time, download them.
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<br />Once I get my lazy ass in gear I will post some more cool shit, until then you get this, which is my bored shit.
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<br />Peace cats...
<br />Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-1092624316022241082004-08-15T20:25:00.000-05:002004-08-15T21:45:16.023-05:00SeattleAlright, it has been a long time since I last made a real post, basically I just became Mexican and was a lazy ass, so sue me if I pissed you off by not updating. Many things happened in that time I was gone, and I don't really want to talk about it, so what I will tell you was I drank a lot of alcohol, was completely irresponsible, had a lot of fun, and didn't wake up hungover once, so basically I will call those weeks a huge success. Then I went to Seattle...
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<br />Seattle: Alright, I flew out to Seattle while my parents and the sister drove up there for a wedding, yes, they are fucking morons, I can't stand to be in the same house as my sister, so I can't imagine a 20 hour drive in a fucking MINIVAN with my sister. The term suicide comes to mind even to contemplate that, so I won't even think about it. Meanwhile, I drove my lazy ass up to Springfield and hopped on a plane, just to sit on my lazy ass some more, and suddenly 6 hours later I am in Seattle, one of the most badass cities in the world. Credited with the grunge revolution, Seattle practically invented early 90's rock, the first thing I did was kiss the ground and proclaim loudly that I wasn't worthy. After the odd stares I got up grabbed my bag and got picked up by my cousin Joe. I was hungry so we stopped at a place called "Dicks" to grab a bite to eat. I will admit, that was the best Dick I have EVER eaten, being the one and only, McDonald's better wash their ass, because Dick's doesn't want to go home stinky. Alrighty, the next few days i hung out and helped the cool side of the family prepare for the wedding of my cousin Liz. The wedding was a lot of fun, it was great, there really was nothing to make fun of, and it really was a textbook wedding. I got to administer the communion, I was a little afraid that a giant bolt of lightning would strike through the ceiling of the cathedral and smite me since I am a little bit atheist/agnostic (can't make up my mind), but for some fucked up reason god let me live, he must've been recovering from the long night with all those hot angel sex slave babes he has up there, lucky me. That night I stayed at the hotel my parents rented, this hotel was fucking awesome, it was a 200$ a night hotel, and it was fucking sweet. The minibar was a little overpriced, and the 10 Ft. snickers bar was a little stale, but still...this hotel had one very sweet defining quality though, they would give out complimentary goldfish. I mean, how fucking badass is that, a hotel that gives you a complimentary goldfish to keep you company, which got me to thinking of other sweet stuff hotels would give you complimentary.
<br />The complementary list:
<br />1) Complementary breakfast, that would be so fucking badass, you just stayed in the hotel for 200 bucks a night and you get a free 35 cent breakfast, sadly Hotel Monaco didn't offer that, just a fucking goldfish.
<br />2) Complementary guns, how sweet would that be, i mean, they give out guns if you open a bank account at a certain bank chain, why cant hotels give out free guns when you stay the night.
<br />3) Complementary money, nuff said
<br />4) Complementary sushi, nuff said
<br />5) Complementary whores, i can see it now..."Come stay at Presidents Hotel for a night you are guaranteed a night you won't forget." "Daddy, why is mommy not going on this trip?" (ugh, they would get dirty fast)
<br />6) Complementary Sprints (for approved women only), there is plenty of me to go around ladies...
<br />7) Complementary HBO, that would be so fucking sweet...
<br />8) Complementary compliments, kinda like flair.....
<br />Alright, this hotel was actually pretty lame when you take in the effect of the cost, the fact there was no free food, no pool, shitty ass workout room, and the interior looked like it had been done by straight eye for the queer guy. But there was a fucking sweet elevator and it was in the middle of downtown Seattle, so it almost evened out. After a couple of nights surviving the parents, they left in the van again leaving me with the badass cousins, and I ended up just wandering around Seattle a whole lot, just having fun and soaking up the vibe. I found a fucking awesome store there, <a href="http://www.sonicboomrecords.com" target="_new">website</a>, the best music store period. Seattle was fucking awesome, everything was fucked up when I got back, but that's another story I am probably going to be to lazy to tell about.
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<br />Latest news: Shit, wasn't that what that entire last post was about?
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<br />I have randomly inserted 6 frames of porn into this blog.
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<br />I'm broke.
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<br />Iraqi soccer is pretty damn good, fucking Americans....
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<br />Really fucking broke.
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<br />School starts tomorrow, and I haven't done any of my AP History homework, Keckzkamethy is going to throw me in the ovens because he is Nazi and I have Jewish lineage.
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<br />Currently Listening to: Old 97's - Won't Be Home (good shit!)
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<br />Currently watching: Olympics (go Netherlands)
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<br />Currently eating: Nothing, I'm broke
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<br />Currently sexing up: Complimentary goldfish
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<br />That is all I really want to talk about, bye!
<br />Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-1092353821961260842004-08-12T18:31:00.000-05:002004-08-12T18:37:01.960-05:00HiatusAlright, I am currently working on two blog posts, I have been to busy/lazy to work on this for the past few weeks...
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<br />News that won't be in the two next posts: I am now a brunette again, so yes, I am now hot as well as available.
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<br />My car is fucked, i don't want to go into detail, but it is...so don't expect rides from me, anyone.
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<br />News that will be in the next two posts: My badass trip to Seattle
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<br />The hell that waited when I got home.
<br />Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-1090482077860822012004-07-28T13:10:00.000-05:002004-07-28T01:16:58.650-05:00Its a bird, its a plane, its Courtney Love...fuck<span style="color:#999999;">This post is 6 days old, I needed to stick it up before i work on a new one.
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<br />Well, I had an interesting revelation last night, I looked at that picture I posted of me looking like the better half of a monkeys ass, and I realized I kinda looked like Courtney fucking Love herself. The queen of drug and alcohol abuse herself, the psycho bitch who killed one of the most influential rock stars ever. I look like Courtney Love in all her drunken, blonde headed, ugly ass bitchy hoe glory (minus the rather impressive breasts), honestly I feel like jumping off the Twin Towers, but to bad they are gone. After 10 minutes of seeing my hair blonde, I realized that I had just made a <strong>HUGE FUCKING MISTAKE</strong>! The interesting thing was, I had Sampson like powers with the ladies before I got it dyed, I could fling my hair around like Fabio, but now I am like a simple trailer park trash Fabio, life sucks.
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<br /><strong>Saturday: </strong>I don't remember what happened Saturday, I wrote a bunch of junk down on my little notepad, but I don't remember which things happened on which days, so for Saturday lets just say I was at the Playboy Mansion partying with the Hef. Oh wait, I think that Saturday was also my last day of work at that shit hole also known as Casa Montez, I am finally free from the constraints of work, wait, I suddenly have a $700 car bill to pay? FUCK!!
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<br /><strong>Sunday:</strong> Sunday was the fateful day I had my hair dyed, it started out normal, then Saysan showed up with PERMANENT BLEACH. Like a moron I let her and Anissa go ahead and have their way with my luscious locks, turning them me into the white, trailer park trash, meth dealer I am today. Instead of having nice sandy blonde hair, it ended up orangish and not all that smooth...
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<br /><strong>Monday: </strong>Monday I woke up bright and early to go to soccer camp at 8:30 AM, lets just say that people were stupefied by the change I had gone through, the first things out of coach Mac's mouth were, <em>"Sprint! How is the meth lab going"</em>, at that point I broke down and started crying, remembering how cruel coach Mac really is. We ran our asses off in the 90 degree 10 o'clock heat and it was great, I miss soccer, even though I am so bad at it I wouldn't qualify for the Special Olympics soccer team. Maher and I took my car to the mechanic to get it checked out, and I awaited my call the next day...
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<br /><strong>Tuesday: </strong>Soccer camp again, lots of running, and sometime during the mix of it all I got a phone call from the mechanic, the wiring in my car was melted into one giant ball of plastic and slag, also known as: <em>Your car is incredibly</em> </span><a href="http://www.wreckedexotics.com/newphotos/exotics/25360_20040713_002.shtml" target="_new"><em><span style="color:#999999;">fucked up</span></em></a><span style="color:#999999;"> <em>and we are going to overcharge your ass for the repair.</em> Their estimate was 300-700 dollars, I figured that wasn't all that bad to have the car fixed and be able to be free to drive around on my own again without trouble, I told the mechanic "Go for it." Which also means: <em>I know you are overcharging me for this repair, but I don't give a rats posterior. </em>The rest of the day was a total and complete blur, I remember sleeping a lot, and Thomas was there a lot of the time.
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<br /></span><p><span style="color:#999999;"><strong>Wednesday: </strong>Well since soccer camp was all week, just assume I went, and I would like to thank the people supporting me with rides during all this, just remember you all still owe me until my car is fixed or I buy a new one. That day after soccer Shayan, Thomas, and I all decided to go see Spiderman 2 at 1:30. So I just head out with Thomas, we get to the theater all excited. Watched the previews, were incredibly stoked, I applauded and cheered when the opening credits came on and got dirty looks from the other 2 and a half people in the theatre, other than our little clique. (they were old, so they probably were giving me a dirty look anyways) I was so incredibly stoked for the movie, waiting to see Spiderman kick the living hell out of a rather chubby man with mechanical arms, which are somehow immune to magnetism and heat...After about 10 minutes I found out this movie was corny, incredibly corny, in fact, it had more corn than Fat Bastard's crap. So after some buildup, and a subplot of Spiderman's powers diminishing, with not as much action as I wanted, I started to get a little disappointed. So at the end of the movie, I was saddened by the fact there was not as much action as there seemed to be in the preview, and that it focused more on Peter Parkers love life. If I wanted to see a movie about love, I would watch Cold Mountain. If I want to see a movie about Spiderman, I want to see him kicking bad guys ass nonstop, although I do like the way it set itself up for a sequel, hopefully the creators read this and say "this little shit is right, it needs more action" After that Thomas and I met up with Maher at the Chexican, the new chinese/mexican place (where the </span><a href="http://www.villagehatshop.com/media/sombrero.gif" target="_new"><span style="color:#999999;">sombrero</span></a><span style="color:#999999;"> meets the samurai, even though they are Japanese) I was surprised to find out that Patricia Pham works there, and in fact her extended PHAMily (nice pun, thanks maher) own the place. So we all chilled there and then were incredibly sick later in the night, for some reason Mexican and Chinese food at the same buffet table sounds much less appeasing after you have eaten it. </span></p><p><span style="color:#999999;"><strong>Thursday:</strong> Lets see, we went to the chexican again for team bonding, I feel like a moron, I've felt bad all day. I got a call from the mechanic and they had some important information for me about my little rice burning car...the repair would cost over 1200 dollars. I told them to stop repairs, I would pay for the diagnosis, and the half hour they had put into it already (103 bucks), I drove it home and parked it underneath a tree, waiting for someone (me) to crawl underneath and pull out basically every bit of wiring, then pull out the dashboard and all that wiring, then completely fuck up, i mean rewire the whole thing. So basically I am without a car until I can get my ass into gear and try to fix it. Lets see, that was like 6 days ago, I really don't remember anything else from that day except that the soccer team went to the Chexican</span></p><p><span style="color:#999999;"></span> </p><p><span style="color:#999999;">Alright, all that shit is old news, meant to be posted 6 days ago...I will update sometime in the next couple of days about the badass weekend in KC.</span></p><p><span style="color:#999999;">
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<br />Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-1090535145861960612004-07-22T17:25:00.000-05:002004-07-22T17:25:45.860-05:00<a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/153/1067/640/love.jpg'><img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/153/1067/320/love.jpg'></a><br />I look a bit like courtny love, if you can't tell I am the one on the right. <a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'></a>Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-1090305117360256412004-07-20T01:31:00.000-05:002004-07-20T01:31:57.360-05:00<a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/153/1067/640/DCP_1290.jpg'><img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/153/1067/320/DCP_1290.jpg'></a><br />This is me in my white trash meth dealer fullness. Honestly about as hot as I can get with this bleached hair... <a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'></a>Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7204780.post-1090051070347100902004-07-17T04:17:00.000-05:002004-07-17T04:22:58.463-05:00Life blows my ballsThe past few days have basically blown my ass, other than a couple of perks, they have sucked more than Jenna Jamison at the end of a 60 hour work week. Now if you know how much sucking that is, pat yourself on a back, you are a grade-A pervert who needs to get off the computer and stop jacking off to the 23 porn websites you subscribe to. In other opening news, the website that hosts my wonderful free blog has added word processing tools in a nice orderly taskbar above my text, what the hell, what took those motherfuckers so long, I learned all the basic HTML tools I needed to get the desired results I wanted, and now you offer the easy way, I knew Big Brother was watching me...(the fucker). Anyways, on to my bitching and moaning about the (now) past few shitty days I've had.
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<br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">*WARNING*</span></strong>
<br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">Long post ahead</span></strong>
<br /><strong><span style="color:#000000;"></span></strong>
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<br /><strong>Tuesday: </strong>Maher and I spent 2 glorious hours at Ichiban Sushi, we ate and watched the guy win his first million on Jeopardy, then ate a little more, since it was all sushi, I practically had an orgasm after every bite (thank you Unagi), and it was damn good. About 6 hours later I was getting ready to go to a birthday party for Chris Pena out at Tommy's. When Shayan calls me and trys to play Joe Cool by acting like he isn't at the party, and he doesn't know about it. Nice try you crazy Persian bastard, I had already been told by people you were there, and I had already known about it 3 days in advance. You forget I go to nearly every party they throw. Then Maher called and told me that the party was out of alcohol, so I brought my rather large stash. After about 20 minutes at the party, all the alcohol I had hidden in the back room suddenly disappeared after many of the JHS students who showed up to the party left. After a small search party combed the house, I got a report that a fatass motherfucker named Alex Johnson had stolen the alcohol I brought. In fact, someone had stopped him at the door and asked him why he was taking it from the party, he had said it was his, the catch was he hadn't brought any. So this with an incredibly generic name is running around with my booze, consisting of 1 bottle of Captain Morgan's, 1 bottle of Absolut vodka, and 1 bottle of Baccardi 151 (aka expensive shit that gets you fucked up fast). So began the shitty days ahead.
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<br /><strong>Wednesday: </strong>I woke up bright and early at 11:30 to go to the orthodontist (the same one who has a street named after him near where I live). I got there sat in the chair and watched <em>"I Love the 90's: 1992", </em>whilst they put the bottom braces on my lips in their second effort to kill me in a benign manner by having the braces cut my lips until i bleed to death. Then suddenly between clips of MC Hammer and Ross Perot it hit me, all the pieces began to fall into place. Why else would they name a road after an orthodontist that does nothing but lead to a Cracker Barrel (they sell t-shirts) and a strip mall that contained nothing but clothing stores, the orthodontists were controlled by the fashion mafia. There are only two pieces of evidence that I need (and have) to expose the truth...
<br />1) Braces make people look ugly, so then they go out and buy everything they can to make themselves look beautiful, and to hide the fact they have 3 pounds of metal glued to their pearly whites.
<br />2) The 3-5 days after receiving braces it makes it impossible to eat anything more solid than high quality H2O due to the fact that your mouth is to cut up and your teeth to sure chew anything. Thus people notice that they lose from 5-10 pounds during those days, sparking an anorexic craze in people so that they can fit into the latest rage in clothing, which they only make in size XXS.
<br />It is simply another ploy by the fashion (and anorexia) mafia to control us into buying their textiles. For more information and proof that the fashion mafia is behind everything, go <a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/B00003CXPJ/102-4503151-2692950?v=glance" target="_new">here</a>.
<br />Nothing else interesting happened that day, I ate my last solid meal about an hour after the orthodontist and overdosed on Ibeprofun whilst at work. (It fucks with your mind man)
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<br /><strong>Thursday: </strong>I just now realized that was yesterday, and that I forgot to take out the damn trash, I am surprised my dad hasn't cut off my other testicle for not doing it yet...Well Thursday was uneventful until about 7 o'clock, when i get a call from a Saysan asking for a ride from Kelsey's house to her house, I obliged, for the right price, and went on out there to pick them up. When I got there they were like, "Hurry up, we need to get out to Shadow Lake before 9, because they close at 12", I said "Who is taking you to Shadow Lake", she said "Why you are". After that there was a long awkward pause, then I asked them how much they would pay me, needless to say, it wasn't enough. I took them to Saysan's house to get ready, then quickly went to Dioko's to give Jessica Johnson her present, and then teleported back to Saysan's to pick them up. Somehow I ended up driving 4 incredibly hot girls, in my car, around for about 30 minutes (it was already 9 by that point), until we made our way over to Nick "Fake Jew" Lawson's house, him and Keenan were going too. Finally at about 10:30 we got on the road, and somehow it ended up that Maher was following us there. After the 45 minute drive to Noel, we got out of the car, and then Kelsey proceeded to lock my keys in the back seat. So we went in and started partying anyways, I was incredibly preoccupied with the thought of how to get my keys out of my damn car to dance at all, it was a shame, because i could have chosen nearly any of the ugly slutty girls showing off their not to impressive bodies there. After 45 minutes they kicked everyone the hell out of there and we were all stuck on the street, until some girl overdosed on ecstasy and began to stop breathing and start thrashing out and overheating. Then we had 13 separate cop cars show up, 2 fire trucks, and 3 ambulances, needless to say, everyone scrambled to get the hell out of Noel, while me and my little party were stuck outside my car trying to break in. After two hours and having all the incredibly huge and strong security guys try to use a clothes hanger to open it up, and nearly opting for the "break the motherfucking window" plan a few times, we finally were able to hook my keys and pry my door open enough to pull them out. By this time it was 2 am and the girls talked me into driving 80 mph on the way home. We got back to Ashley and Andrea Burgee's house, and dropped them off, I stopped inside for a minute to get a drink of water. By the time I got back outside the first thing I noticed was that my lights were on, I called myself a dumbass and proceeded to get inside and start the car. The first thing I noticed was that my keys weren't in the ignition and something under the hood was running, at this point I yelled "POLTERGEIST" and started running myself, after I had been coaxed back to my car, I got inside and noticed something that was fucked up. The light switch was off, and the right turn signal indicator was perpetually on, not blinking or bling blinging, but just a solid on. At about this point I said to myself, "what the hell is going on", then I noticed the cell phone charger plugged into the broken cigarette lighter and I knew at that point my car was incredibly fucked. I started my car, and it sounded like it was going to just roll over and die like Marlon Brando. I ended up driving Saysan and Kelsey over to Damien's house, and then sat there and tried to think out my dilemma, my headlights were perpetually on, as was my right turn signal/parking light, something had fried my entire wiring inside my car, which would've been the cell phone charger plugged into the cigarette lighter, because Mazda's are basically one big computer, it is all wires. My engine was on its last dying gasps because I had driven 80 mph for 35 miles, which my car can not handle, since it is packing about as much power as a push lawnmower underneath the hood. I limped my car home and unplugged the battery, hoping that the repairs wouldn't cost anything more than me giving road head to the mechanic, because I currently don't have the money to pay for the repairs. Oh yeah, the AC broke too.
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<br /><strong>Friday</strong>: I slept in till 3, and tried to kill myself by suffocating me with a pillow, if it worked in <em>"One Flew Over the Coo-Coo's Nest"</em> then it should work with me, the problem was i only had my scrawny ass arms, and not a 350 pound indian on top of me, so needless to say it didn't work. At 5 I went to work and dredged through the rest of the day until now. My car is sitting out in front of my house with the battery unplugged since that is the only thing which will keep the headlights off, and it doesn't like to run like it did, when it is standing still it seems to cough like a lifetime chain smoker, and shake like <span style="color:#000000;">M</span>uhammad Ali. So I desperately need donations for the repairs...
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<br /><strong>Latest News: </strong>One good thing that happened the past few days was I made out with two chicks at the same time. Cue Office Space, "If you had a million dollars what would you do?" "Two chicks at the same time"...Woo hoo, I was halfway there with 13 dollars!!
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<br /><span style="color:#000099;">RARG I'VE GOT AIDS, BEASTMAN AIDS!!!</span>
<br /><span style="color:#666666;">Sorry, i have that CKY song Skelator Vs. Beastman stuck in my head...</span>
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<br />Want to learn about everything about <a href="http://www.drugpolicy.org/homepage.cfm" target="_new">drugs</a> in America?
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<br />I want to move to Norway, and I don't fucking know why...
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<br />I trust guys with longer hair than shorter hair, my reason being, every single crooked business executive has short hair, Alex Johnson had short hair, Jesus *supposedly* had long hair (even though I consider myself agnostic, I trust the true message he taught even though no one truly follows it, and if he did, i trust him), guys with longer hair are more generally stoners than guys with short hair, you can trust stoners to be stoners, stoners are generally to stoned to even attempt to screw you over, mullets, and last but not least most football players have short hair, whilst many soccer players wear their hair long!!
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<br />That was fucked up...
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<br /><div align="center">I am so fucking cursed when it comes to air conditioning, first my house AC, now my car AC, who wants to bet when we get back to school, because of my karma the AC will be fucked up.</div><div align="center">
<br /><a href="http://kyw.com/water/watercooler_story_197134853.html" target="_new">Mcdonald County</a> bans nude canoeing.
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<br />For the nude canoeing association webpage click <a href="http://www.canoeing.org/" target="_new">here</a>
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<br />Currently Listening to: Better Than Ezra - Good
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<br />Currently eating: Nothing, my mouth still fucking hurts
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<br />Currently smelling: Old Spice mixed with the oily remains of what got on my face at Casa Montez, nasty...
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<br />Currently reading: Filthy's review of <a href="http://www.filthycritic.com/filthy/" target="_new">Anchorman</a>
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<br />Currently worshipping: Yes its sad, Gabe, you taught me the html I needed to add links, making this website much more enjoyable.
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<br />Current Number of Stalkers: 3
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<br />George W. Bush, you and your little dog Rumsfeld are fucking morons, seeing how you are an alcoholic, I am surprised you haven't tried to drink him yet, since his name starts with RUM...
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<br />Peace, Suicide, Sprint
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<br />
<br /></div></div></div>Sprinthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18108135583392634538noreply@blogger.com5