Friday, November 09, 2007


I've heard of over-the-hill, but is there such thing as under-the-hill?

From my experience, it's been the general consensus that women in their twenties want men that are in their thirties. While it's awesome that I'm still getting better with age, I'm also feeling really impatient. I think that in general asian guys are 1-2 years behind the average white man; but personally, I think that I'm 2-3 years behind. While this means that I'll be getting better until I'm late 30's, early 40's, it also means that I have a hell of a long time to wait until my potential shows itself. I'm equivocally only 24. I should be dating undergrads.

I may have a while to go until I reach my statistical peak, but I think that I'm probably peaking compatibility wise right now. I'm bitter and jaded enough to be realistic about relationships, but still ignorant enough to be blindly optimistic. I'm mature enough to understand and think my way through situations, but I'm also immature enough to just make hilarious, out-of-line jokes to get me through. I'm stable enough to be in a relationship with and still unstable enough to have crazy experiences and take risks. I'm caring enough to consider a woman's needs and detached enough to be my own man.

The maturity thing is the worst. I can really feel myself going through a mental change. It pisses me off. I've always thought a lot in my life and had lofty goals, but now I'm in deep thought all day long (well, work doesn't count) and I can see the path to achieving my goals. For me this signals the death of my care-free life with shitloads of ridiculous jokes and entertainment. Those things will be replaced with regiment and always doing what's appropriate. Lately, I've even cringed at some of the jokes that I tell myself. I always think that I'm funny! I mean, just look at my last 3 posts! Not funny. Fuckin!!!

I'm pretty sure that in 3 years or so I'll be done with my MBA, more successful, better looking, and more mature. But, dude, I want the benefits NOW. I guess that's not realistic expectation though. It's like a woman in her 30's wishing to go backwards in time. Ha ha, you wish, lady. Maybe if you didn't look for guys in their thirties when you were in your twenties, then they wouldn't expect women in their twenties and you could date them nowadays.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

30 Days

Last time I wrote about the 60 days that changed my life in such a short period of time. Things have been so crazy and unpredictable that this time it only took 30 days for me to almost completely change who I am and how I think.

The last 30 days all I've been doing with my life is thinking - about Life. I go to work, but I'm still just thinking about Life. I go to class and take my finals, but I'm still just baffled, bewildered, perturbed, and perplexed over this thing called Life. There's a guy in the stall next to me at work verbally busting his O-ring, but I don't even hear it because of the reverb in my head with ideas about Life. I've spent the last month plagued until 4 in the morning with thoughts about what to do with this Life. Just recently, I got my first full night's sleep in what seemed like ages.

So, what the fuck did I think about for an entire month for 18-20 hours each day, what caused it, and what settled it? Some people know, and some don't, but I met this woman who I just thought that I was destined to meet and be with. But she went back to school (a few states away) and things just plummeted from there. It caught me pretty much by surprise and I couldn't sleep until I figured out a possible answer to whatever new question I came up with in my head. This might sound neurotic, but I'm not crazy. In fact, that's probably why it took me so goddamn long to finally get a good night's rest. If I was crazy I could just come up with some loopy ass explanation and go right to sleep. Anyways, it was this event that made me feel like I was insufficient and I needed to re-think a lot of things. What I basically thought about was who I was (what makes me different than the next person) and what makes me happy.

When I thought about who I was, all I could come up with were statistics. I just thought: good job, well educated, in good shape, good sense of humor, decent looking, and motivated. My whole life I've fought to not be generic and be someone that's really unique. Yet, when I tried to list the best things about myself they were all generic qualities that will only get someone so far. The worst thing is that this is how I viewed the rest of the world. Whenever I meet a new woman I rate her based on her looks, intelligence, profession, and proximity. The last few women that I have been serious with, I found that the biggest regret that I had about things not working out was that they were so statistically rare. They were hot, funny, smart, sexy, and had high earning potential. I talked to my friend, Eric Jones, about it. Being the typical guy, I said that I missed the sex the most (hey, it was awesome), but he said that what he missed the most was the companionship. That really got me to thinking, and I realized that I didn't miss how rare they were statistically, I missed them because it is rare to really connect with someone. And, I really did with them. So, I kind of decided to not be such a statistic myself. What's unique about me has to be my personality and how well I treat those that I love. Each time I've gone out to bars and talked to woman the most shallow things always come up: what do you do for a living, where did you go to school, where do you live, or what activities do you like to do? I'm going to just avoid all of these types of questions and think of questions that will lead me to find out who the person is, not how they measure up statistically. Equivocally, I'm going to avoid putting myself out there as a statistic.

The second thing that I thought about was what makes me happy. I still haven't figured this one out 100%, but I figured out that it's something not worth thinking about. Life is more about rolling with the punches than it is grabbing hold and creating your vision of yourself. It's okay to think about the things that you can do to make yourself happy, but once you start thinking about things that are out of your control, then you'll just be going in circles like a one-legged man on a skate board; a dog with peanut butter on his tail; two fat guys on opposite ends of a marry-go-round; or an asian woman looking for her car at the mall. One thing that brings me happiness that I can't control is if a woman loves me. Realizing this fact helped me to settle my mind. It's clear as day. If there's love lost in either direction then it plain out just wasn't meant to be (or, not meant to be at this time). No need for contemplation. No need for worry. It's not an issue about being insufficient, there's nothing that I could have done differently, it's all about whether or not there was enough of a connection. Things that I can control are: my work, my education, my finances, and what I do with my time. That's about it.

It took a lot of maturing for me to finally realize that certain things are out of my control. Everyone wants to feel like they're in control of their lives. Really, nobody is. You can't control who you meet (which really is the biggest factor in your life) or what events happen to you. It's crazy how many institutions and ideals are based on people trying to usurp control of their lives. Take religion, for instance. People realize that they can't control what happens to them (in this life, or after), but they try to by going to church or devoting themselves to what could be completely made up beliefs. When there's something that's unexplainable, people will always search until they've found an answer that lets them sleep at night. But, the day when you realize that you have no control is when you will finally be at peace.

I'm not there yet (but at least I can sleep).

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Brand New

New relationships are probably the best times that I've had in my life. The hardest thing to do in this world is to be able to show someone how special and unique you are, and that you're worth their attention. During the first few weeks of a relationship, there's actually somebody there looking for those things in you instead of you putting all of this effort into trying to show them. It's nice to be appreciated.

It's such an invigorating feeling to meet someone new and find out what you can learn from them. My favorite days have been spent thinking about what the other person said and formulating new questions to ask in order to get to know her better. I've had days of winning intramural championships, snowboarding, partying, hooking up, graduating, getting hired, hiking Half Dome, and snorkeling in Hawaii. But, I'd trade any one of those days for the days at the beginning of a relationship.

The reason why I keep mentioning the beginning, and that's it, is because that's the only part that I'm good at. I always put all of my best qualities out there right away and then I sort of run out of reasons why I'm worth someone's time. I think that it's like this for a lot of people, but most others just take longer to open up and, therefore, longer to run out of exciting and new things about themselves. By that time, things have transitioned from the excitement of something new to the comfort of something familiar.

There's always that instant where you realize that you've told the other person everything about yourself and you know everything about the other person. It's concurrent with the first time that you either call him/her with nothing on your mind to talk about, go on a silent car ride, think about what it would be like to be with another (wo)man, or debate whether you want to pick up your phone when (s)he calls. In the past, I've realized these occurrences as they were happening. During those times, I realized that the next few weeks were going to determine our true compatibility. If we became bored, time to move on. If we could entertain each other with our everyday lives, not just our pasts, then things could work out.

I used to think that I was the relationship type, but I'd have to modify that definition and say that I'm the short-term relationship type. There's this episode of Seinfeld where George finds out that he starts off on a high note by telling funny jokes, but then just ruins things as the conversation goes on. So, he starts bowing out of meetings and discussions after telling a single funny joke, realizing that he's peaked in that situation and it's best to leave a good impression. I'm thinking that that's how I should be when it comes to relationships. Instead of falling in love and having long relationships, I should just bow out once I've peaked, realizing that I probably don't have anything else to give. Then, hopefully something else exciting will come along.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

Reverend Matthew Jung Lee

From the title, it's apparent that I've embarked on yet another key moment in my life. It was an arduous journey (5 minutes), but I finally achieved my goal of being ordained Reverend Matthew Jung Lee of the Universal Life Church. I'm available for weddings, bar mitzvahs, baby namings, baptisms, commitments ceremonies, house blessings, and vow renewals. As long as they're open bar.

My venture began when my friend and soccer teammate at work, Matt Viallant, told me that he ministered the wedding of two of his close friends earlier this year. I was really impressed and asked him if he had to study long and what the training was like in order to become a minister. He said that all he did is go online and sign up at the Universal Life Church homepage and get a free, legally valid certificate in 2 minutes (I took longer because I shopped around). I've heard of weekend classes to get ordained, but that's still too much effort to get something just for fun.

Through the Universal Life Church website all you have to do is submit your name and contact information and "waalaah" Certificate of Ministry. On top of that, they offer a bunch of packets for you to buy to further "validate" your title. I chose the "Monastery Credential Package". It includes: 10 certificates: Wedding, Handfasting, Renewal of Marriage, Affrimation of Love, House Blessing, Baptism and Commitment Certificates. It also includes a Minister Window decal. Press Pass and ULC Parking Hanger. Also included is a hard copy of the official Ordination Credential, a Wallet ID card, choice of Clergy Badge, and sample services. I really like the gold seals- they make me feel a lot more official than the one I printed out at home. Some might ask: is it really worth $49.99 just to propagate a joke? This man says: Hell yes!

First of all, it gives business to the Universal Life Church, who seem like extremely good and open-minded people. They don't discriminate or force their will on others. In their own words: "We make no religious hurdles, no hoops to jump through, no tests of loyalty, no rings to kiss and no fees to pay. Why? The ULC Monastery represents freedom, and to have freedom you can not make demands upon individuals." Nice. Finally, something I can believe in. Besides supporting an awesome group, who can pass up a ULC press pass? "Yes, I'm here to interview Miss Jessica Alba on behalf of the ULC." And, what God-fearing cop would stick a ticket onto a car with a ULC Parking Hanger? The card will come in handy for flashing when I feel like pompously saying "That's Reverend Lee to you." The Ordination Credential (again, with the sweet golden seal) is clearly the best item, and is going right next to my BS and MS degrees on my wall. I'm definitely not advocating going to this site and fooling around. I really might use my ministry someday. But, until then, it's just something to put on my resume and add to my list of titles.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Vegas Baby, Vegas

Yeah, I'm well aware of the "what happens here stays here" motto that's touted by the appropriately nicknamed Sin City. I'm still gonna talk about it so you can go fuck yourself Las Vegas!

This past weekend was my brother's bachelor party and while some things will go unspoken, some others need to be touched upon. At first I didn't understand why my brother didn't want to go to a club for his bachelor party. But, once I got into the strip club I kind of realized why. No, I'm not talking about playing motor boat or trying to make the stripper climb the pole and touch her ass on the ceiling; my point is that being in a strip club isn't reality. The tits are fake, the compliments are fake, the diamonds are fake, and colleges that they're attending are definitely fake. The only thing that is real is the sob story that strippers tell you about their ex-boyfriends or their asshole dads. So, I saw why my brother wanted to go to strip clubs instead of real clubs: it's fake. If you go to a club and girls are in your booth drinking with you, that's real and something really might happen. But, if you go to a strip club, it's all fake and reality comes back once you reach the exit.

That is, until you get into the taxi and the guy says: "So, who's ready to go to a massage parlor?"

Monday, July 02, 2007

Luke Skywalker vs Han Solo

Sometimes when I'm on the soccer field and I feel like the game is up to me, I pretend like I'm Luke Skywalker in Episode IV. In case you didn't know (you should be ashamed of yourself), that's the one where he shot his photon into that tiny little hole to blow up the Death Star. Clutch.

Even though I would have a place in history as Luke Skywalker, I think that I'd still rather be Han Solo. He cracks all the jokes, chicks love him, and he gets with the princess. The only action that Luke got was a kiss from his sister (yuck! ... tongue action too!). Perhaps, another downside to being Han Solo instead of Luke Skywalker is that I wouldn't have the Force.

So, I was thinking, hell yeah, even though I don't have the Force my wife (Leia) does so I can still have kids that inherit it. Money! ... or not so money. It would totally suck to have a wife that has the Force! She'd always be thinking that she's better than me. I'd have to ask her to open jars, get things down off of high shelves, lift heavy objects, and other embarrassing things. After I got old and my mind wasn't as sharp, she'd be doing all of these Jedi mind tricks on me, making me do the dishes and laundry, make dinner, and think that she beat me at Jeopardy again. Then, the next morning when I woke up and realized all of the things that happened I'd be like, "Bitch, don't pretend like you beat me at Jeopardy!" My kids would not only be able to kick my ass by age 5, but, as a Padawan, they'd also have those sweet miniature pony tails that went out with the 80's (I know I wasn't the only one that had one!). They'd probably walk around all scronny and shit, like I was when I was a kid. But, then when the kids in the back of the bus tried to take their shoes they'd kick some ass instead of moving to the front and making friends with the bus driver.

In conclusion, I'd still like to be Han Solo - but there's no way I'm going to marry that skank Leia. On top of her thinking that she's better than me, she straight up slaved herself to Jabba the Hut! No matter how good she looked in that golden bikini, the image of her up against living blubber is too much for any man to get out of his head. You sold your soul to the Devil, Leia - I'll never forgive you for that. Sure, it was to save me from being frozen in carbonite, but at what cost!!??

And, the only thing you can beat me at is Go Fish - and that's because nobody gives a damn about Go Fish! I will forever be the king of Jeopardy!

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Don't Feed the Animals

Today I was hanging out with a co-worker, eating some peanuts, and she said "Here, catch one in your mouth." After that I had to explain to her that, while I like catching things in my mouth - it's fun, I won't catch anything that animals at the zoo catch in their mouths or have thrown at them. That means nothing in the shape of peanuts (elephants), bananas (monkeys), steaks (lions), fish (seals/penguins/turtles), bones (dingos), pellets (petting zoo/birds), leaves (giraffes), or chicken (alligators). At the same time, I enjoy throwing those things at my friends and thinking about them as the animals that eat that shaped food. Sometimes they wonder why I'm petting them and doing baby talk, but I just ignore them and keep on enjoying the wildlife.

Friday, June 15, 2007

Homelessness and $5 Gift Cards at McDonald's

Initially, I was going to write about the socioeconomic aspect of homelessness but it ended up being too complex and there were too many problems, without enough solutions, for me to write about.

Lately, I've been encountering a lot of homeless people asking for money. The issue with me is not that I'm a cheapskate or aloof on the matter of homelessness, but rather that I can't tell if he (I'm going to use he, his, him instead of he/she, his/her, him/her throughout this blog) is deserving of help or if he is going to buy alcohol with the money (my main concern). Well, I think that no matter what the person's walk of life, he deserves to eat. So, I was wondering how I could give homeless people money and guarantee that it wouldn't be spend on alcohol. At first I wanted to take the person to lunch myself and get in a conversation about how he ended up on the streets. But, that might make him feel ridiculed and he probably would rather not eat than have to tell someone about his life. After some tossing and turning at night I finally came up with a solution that I think makes sense: $5 gift cards from McDonalds.

Yesterday I went to McDonald's to pick up gift cards that I could hand out to homeless people so that I could make sure that my money was going towards feeding them instead of to alcohol. I can't stand the sick feeling of lying and saying "I don't have any change" when I really could have helped that person out. I want to kick my own ass every time I insincerely say "Sorry ,man", when I really want to say "Sorry, I don't trust that you'll spend it on food and I'm too stupid/lazy to think of a way to help you".

I can see how gift cards might not be something that everyone wants to adopt because $5 is a lot to plop down for a single donation. I wanted to get $3 gift cards, but the minimum amount is $5 on a card. Additionally, they have to scan each (blank) card and write in the value, which took about 15 minutes to complete. Still, I recommend that if you feel that this society has given you enough for you to give back, please go pick up a few gift cards.

We need to take advantage of the fact that there is a McDonald's in every neighborhood. What I'm going to do is to write an e-mail and send in a letter (better option). I'll post with the contents of that letter. Basically, I want McDonalds to start carrying $1, $2, $3, and $5 pre-valued cards so that anyone can buy them and use them as money for homeless people without using cash. It would be ideal if there was a website where people could order these gift cards and have them mailed to their houses. It's a win-win-win for donaters, homeless people, and McDonald's. The donations would also be tax deductible, so that everyone can be sure that the government helps out on this too.

If you believe in this idea as much as I do, please follow suit and e-mail and mail a (signed) letter to McDonald's. All you'll need to do is copy and paste what I'll post in my next blog. Details on what to write and where to send it will follow.

Change three: help the homeless.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Bloggy and Vloggy Style

I bought an HD camcorder awhile back, intent on making some video blogs but I just haven't done anything yet. To force me to do it, I'm going to say right here that I will post my very first video blog on July 8th - no matter what! Look for it here, and on Youtube. T-minus 25 days.

Monday, June 11, 2007

Google Me Bitch

Today I googled "motivational procrastination" and my blog came up 6th on the list. I realize that "motivational procrastination" are not very commonly used together and I did search on my own computer so google may have adjusted for that, but I still think it's cool.

Saturday, June 09, 2007

Modified Types

Early on in our lives we're able to date just about anyone. My first girlfriend, in 6th grade, was some prudish, stuck up white girl. My second girlfriend was a hottie taller (like 3" taller) white girl who I just happened to tell was "fine" at some school dance. My third girlfriend was another white girl, this time with glasses, big boobs, and was, at best, a 4.5. My fourth girlfriend was a quiet japanese girl, who I asked to go out with me, then who dumped me after a week went by and I didn't call her. Needless to say, just like all other kids my age I had nothing in common with these girls except wanting to have someone to make out with and tell my friends that I was going out with.

In high school I dated a complete bitch/slut, a girl too hot for me (at the time - those don't exist anymore), and two that might have been my type. In college I went out with two girls, both of which I loved and formed deep connections with.

The point is that as I got older I sort of modified the type of girl that I'm interested in. Everyone does. I can tell who will be a waste of time and who has potential for myself just by looking at a woman. For instance, unless some very unique individual comes along, I can tell that a taller woman is out of the question. I can pretty much also rule out blondes (I think), black, hispanic, and indian women, women under 20 and over 35, hippies, rockers, ghetto girls, and druggies. These filters aren't there because of my personal preferences. They're there mainly because I don't think that any of them would be attracted to me. Since I have these modified types, I assume that women have them too and automatically count myself out of a lot of possibilities.

There are good and bad things that result from these filters. It's good that you kind of realize who you'll get along with easily, but it's bad that you'll tend to stay more within your comfort zone and not explore other types. It's also bad because you might get along with someone really well that you wouldn't have thought you would have based on looks or social status alone.

My second change is: remove all filters for meeting and conversing with people.

Why Attractive Women Are Airheads

I'm pretty bold and confident (something I haven't decided if I should change or not), so when I'm out and I see a beautiful woman that looks like she's of my modified type (more on that later) I don't really hesistate to make conversation and attempt a few lines of witty banter. One thing that I've found is that almost every single one of those women is a complete airhead. At first I dismissed it as lack of interest on their part but then I've had some of those girls' friends or the girls themselves say that they think I'm cute or funny or something, yet they still have nothing to offer.

I was thinking about why that is and going over a few interactions in my head and what I came up with is that they never developed any social skills because 1) guys don't give a fuck what a hot girl is saying, 2) the girls think that guys expect them to be airheaded, and 3) they have never been forced to be witty or seen possible benefits of aquiring such abilities. But, I do care about what a woman has to say. I'm all about appreciating a woman with a mind that I can respect and treat as my equal. That's why part of my change is to never step foot in another club unless it's out of obligation. The last time I went to a club it was useless to try to talk to girls because all they want to do is drink and dance. And, even the ones that you can tell were dragged there and you might like to talk to you can't because the music is too loud. I've decided that clubs are for losers who can't hold a conversation.

Since clubs are now useless in my book, they should be used to house these types of useless women who go out: ones who can't hold a conversation, ones who go out solely to "hang with the girls", ones with boyfriends, ones who get wasted to the point of needing someone else for support, ones who are over 45 (and that's stretching it), ones with kids that are home alone, virgins, cheaters, and ones who are homeless (I dunno, just threw that in there).

So, first change: no more clubs.

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Take From the World

Are you the rock or the stream? The rock sits in the stream and the water flows naturally around it. The rock just sits there and takes in what the world has to offer. It figures out how things work and tries to understand its role in the world. The stream tries to move the rock. It’s never consistent and is always trying to use forceful ways to move the rock. The stream wants to make the world adjust to its own vision and create its own place in it.

Lately I've been doing a lot of introspection, battling myself over what changes I should and shouldn't make, and trying to figure out what would make me a better person. It really depends on three things: who you're talking to, what book/article you're reading, and what walk of life you're in. Some of my (guy) friends say, "hook up with as many girls as you can. " Some of my (girl) friends say, "you’re a good catch, don’t change." One book says, "this will teach you to love, not to be promiscuous." Another books says, "we will give you 11 openers and field-tested strategy on how to close the deal". My past life said, "settle down, marry, and have a family. " My current life says, "what the fuck is going on here (he’s kind of a jerk and has a limited vocabulary)?"

There have been times in my life when I've made radical changes and emerged a better person. But since college, I've been basically the same person (besides those 60 Days, during which I changed my status more than my character). People usually look for drastic change because they're unhappy in their situation or depressed in general. But, I'm not really either of those - I just think that life can be better and I want to live it instead of just living (cliché, I know, and I’m sorry). That's the thing though - how do I have these experiences? What experiences do I want to have? More importantly, what experiences to I not want to have?

All of my life I’ve given to this world and been what I thought it wanted me to be. I never ditched class; I stayed away from drugs; I went to college; I waited until college to drink; I studied hard; I gave my all in relationships; I got a steady job; I contributed to my community; I gave thanks to God (in my own ways); I helped others; I smiled; I shook hands; I gave compliments; I had good intentions; I previously devoted myself to another; and I voted Democrat.

Now I want to take from the world! The world has so much to offer but I’ve always been it’s bitch instead of the other way around. There are so many interesting people out there and sights to see. Lately, I’ve met at least three girls that I thought I would get along with really well but I didn’t pursue any of them. I think that I've always been in these long relationships and, as bad as it sounds, they've held me back in a lot of ways. Another person was always part of how I defined myself. There's nothing wrong with that, per se, but after each break up I was left with this huge gap and I was half of a person for a few months.

My dilemma basically boils down to two problems: getting rid of the present me, who I like, and never being able to be that person again; and compromising my morality. I think that right now I'm still pretty decent husband material that would attract a nice girl. But, 1) there aren’t very many nice girls out there and 2) I’d probably mess it up anyways. Who’s to say that nice girls are my type anyways? I love emotional clusterfucking, freedom fighting, and navigating my way out of the circle of blame. I can’t respect a girl that is too nice and does everything that I want, but I don’t want to be with a lying bitch either. It sucks that smart/clever girls who are independent almost always end up being bitchier as a consequence. I guess that I can’t complain because I consider my wit above average and I’m a major asshole. Since I’m admitting right here that I’m an asshole, then I suppose that the answer to my dilemma is obvious: change.

I my future posts, I’ll be documenting what changes I’ve decided on and the logic behind them. Maybe I’ll inspire some people to make changes in their own lives, so that they can begin living (seriously, that cliché again? ppsssshhhh, loser).

I am the stream. I’ll try to mold the world into what I want it to be. The rock is wiser and its tranquil future is undeniable. But the stream is plucky and its whimsical future is captivating.

Thursday, May 03, 2007

Bets You Can't Win

I've come to the conclusion that you can't win a bet with a woman. I mean, you can win, you just can't get paid out on your victory. Women never feel obligated to hold up their end of the bet when they lose. If you win, you might combine the time that you gloat with a chance to remind her what the stakes were and that you're owed something - but any reminders after that and you're being a total jerk and just trying to rub it in.

"What real man expects to get paid for a petty bet by a woman?" - shit, I do! A bet is a goddamn bet. The worst thing is that men condone this behavior. I once had a friend of mine tell me a story that his girlfriend bet a guy at a bar $5 about some play that was going on during a basketball game on TV. When his girlfriend lost, he totally dogged the guy and called him a bitch for accepting the $5 until the guy gave it back. Well, maybe I'm okay with that because it's a stranger's money, but if it's your girlfriend or your wife and you guys share time and money anyways, then debts should be paid. I'm especially talking about non-monetary bets like massages, watching sports instead of America's Next Top Model, cooking dinner, taking care of the kids, or running errands.

It's not all that bad that bets are forgotten, but it sucks mainly because they're only forgotten one way. A woman will never hesitate to remind a man in some cute way that he owes her $20, lunch, or a ride home from the airport. Men need to stick to bets that they plan on losing. For instance, it's perfectly fine to bet your hot lady friend dinner that they will find the bombs in Iraq. Feel free to bet your best friend's GILF a night on the town that Bill Clinton was one of the Founding Fathers. Go ahead and bet that stripper four shots that she can't do the splits in roller skates. And please, for the love of God, bet the twins next door a weekend for three in Vegas that you can take them both out in a kiddy-pool-full-of-jello-pudding wrestling contest.

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Vocab: Lesson 2

Previously I talked about how the nicknames Bob and Dick made no sense and that in order to fix that they should be called Bobert and Dickard. I've also defined the terms lead up to freezing ovaries math, Quadruple Flush, Circle of Blame, and Emotional Clusterfuck. Now, I've finally come up with a word that is handy for everyday use.

Like most new slang, this term is made from a combination of words. If some guy is acting like a total bitch, it's often appropriate to refer to him as a Vagina (or Vāg for short). Although I don't particularly prefer this term, another name to call him is a fag. So, combining the words, it
should be a doubly-insulting to call somebody a Fagina (or Fāg). And, I'm all about efficiency.

Friday, March 30, 2007

Fart Dance Fever

Today at work I had gas that was so bad that I considered taking a half day off just so that I could go home and let it all go at my leisure.

It was one of those times when the rumbling of gas around in your stomach is so active that it sounds like you're farting already. And, it's always when you have that painful pressure and rumbling that your buttcheeks decide to be such close buddies that any little seep of gas sounds like you're pulling on the valve of a balloon while letting the air out. You have to do that uncomfortable dance in your seat to move the gas around or else it'll just work it's way out in your current position. The new position that you work yourself into is the most obvious and awkward way that you can sit in a seat. If anybody was to take a single glance at you in your chair at a 45 degree angle, balancing on one cheek, and one foot off of the ground, they would be able to tell wassup with no problem.

I'm just glad that it was a Friday and my cubemates left early -otherwise it would be a day with half pay.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Freedom Fighters: the Circle of Blame and the Emotional Clusterfuck

Being a man, I used to hate arguments. Even if you win (the argument), you lose (out on sex). It might sound strange, but at some point in the last few years I started to actually enjoy arguing.

It was the strangest realization when I discovered that I was pissed off, just got hung up on, and yet, I was excited about it. It was like this battle that happened every time that I picked up the phone. Between battles we would reload by gathering information, forming strategies, or looking for holes in the other's logic or story. Come battle time we brought our artillery to the agreed upon location (Cingular network) and unloaded whatever we had.

Sometimes there would be midday sneak attacks where one of us called the other person when he/she wasn't expecting it and let off a bomb. It was possible to avoid those attacks by not picking up the phone, but then you'd just get bitched out for not picking up and your excuse would be scrutinized in the ensuing battle. It was better to take sneak attacks head on as they came rather than let the bomb feed itself all day.

Sometimes there would be peace talks in a calm environment, like in an e-mail. You can set up all of your defenses for the day's attacks and suggest some sort of compromise to end the war. But, the next day all is forgotten and once again you feel the wind from the harsh words as they whiz by your ear and explosion from the intense decibels of yelling that penetrate your eardrum.

In the beginning, I took advantage of my superior technology (knowing her e-mail password and searching around her computer) and clearly dominated what appeared to be a one-way war. Information wins wars. But then my own weapons (Google Desktop Search) were turned on me as the enemy adapted. The enemy didn't have any real substance to her attacks, but she had enough to create her main weapon: The Circle of Blame.

In case you've never heard of the Circle of Blame (because I made it up just now), it's very much like riding a merry-go-round that you can't get off of; and the merry-go-round is on fire; and there are people on the outside throwing potatoes at you; and you have this spray bottle that will just barely keep the flames off of you; and you have this shield that is exactly the size of a potato; and the only way to escape is to jump (hang up the phone) ... only to end up on another merry-go-round (pick up the phone - begin [merry-go] Round 2).

Okay, so metaphors aside, what the Circle of Blame is is when you get blamed for something, you give your excuse, that leads to something else (you give your excuse), which leads to something else (excuse, yet again), and then eventually comes back full circle to the original source of blame (then repeat). This is known in the political arena as filibustering. This is known in the female mind as entrapment. The only point to repeating this circle over and over again is to either catch the man with something inconsistent or else make the man forget what he said before. Women have the skill to widen the circle over time so that the man can't remember the proper or past response to each question. And, all he has to do is answer it differently than he did before and he's guilty! The genius thing about the Circle of Blame is that the man doesn't even have to be guilty of anything for this weapon to be used effectively on him. The only necessary ingredient is the formation of accusations. And, for most women, forming accusations is as easy as waking up in the morning. It's something that's natural and just part of life.

Women may have the Circle of Blame, but men have: the Emotional Clusterfuck. Men don't have time to come up with as complex of methods as the Circle of Blame, but we've got brute force on our sides. Since we don't give a damn, we are immune to emotional methods of attack. If my enemy said to me "your friends hate you and my girlfriends think that you're ugly" I wouldn't give a damn. Now, if I attacked with an analogous barrage, I'd get rather satisfying results with minimal effort. My enemy would be distraught for weeks and would believe my words over her own opinion. Furthermore, she would have no defense, as her emotions would draw the bridge and lead my invading army to the throne.

You see, this is the difference between a man and a woman in a fight. A man is only susceptible to attacks of logic and reasoning. A woman is only susceptible to attacks of feeling and emotion. It's much harder to attack with logic than it is with emotion. For this reason, men should always dominate arguments. But not all men are smart/mean enough to use the Emotional Clusterfuck. To these men, I have a message: you need to start thinking of yourselves as Freedom Fighters.

Each time you lose a battle, the government (your woman) slowly, but surely takes away your freedoms and dignity. First, you can't go out drinking with the friends she doesn't like. The, you can't hang out with that female friend of yours that you've had since high school. Then, you have to watch a re-run of Sex In the City instead of Family Guy. Then, you have to be home for dinner on time every night. Then, you have to be home in time to make dinner every night. Then, you have to wash her car every week. Then, you have to brush her hair. Then, you have to paint her nails. Then, you have to rub her back. Then, you have to hire a concubine because she doesn't feel like going through the pains of labor! This is out of control! Don't let it happen to you! I'm here to save lives - spread the word!

I'm exaggerating, of course. Relationships are not always wars. Probably just mine was.

This post is still under work...I'm trying to perfect the concepts here....

Saturday, March 17, 2007

Hydroxycut and Me

I've been taking Hydroxycut for about three weeks now. It's done a decent enough job that I can notice on my midsection and I can appreciate that fat loss when I make quicker cuts on the soccer field, but there are more and more strange effects that I'm noticing. First of all, there's the equivalent of 2 cups of coffee of caffeine in each pill. You start off with 3 pills a day, each about 1/2 hour before a meal. After 3 days you double the dose - that's 12 cups of coffee a day! You're supposed to take the last dose 5 hours before you go to sleep so that you don't suffer sleep deprevation (though they don't specifically say that this is why on the bottle). Because of this high dosage of caffeine, I can't drink sodas, teas, or coffee anymore. Not a big deal in my lifestyle, except that I love tea drinks and boba.

So, what have been my personal experiences? I've had two nights of restlessness out of these three weeks where I've gone to bed at 4am or later even though I intended to go to sleep around 1am or 2am. That's not extremely out of the ordinary because I think a lot at night and try to find solutions to all of my problems before I can rest easy. I don't have that many problems so it's typically not that bad. Something else that recently started happening nearly every night are these really weird dreams. I'm not so crazy as to let dreams effect my cognizant life, but when you have really weird ones the emotions you felt during them stick with you for the rest of the day.

I think that what I need to do is work out twice a day in order to get rid of all of the energy that I have. I'm going to play soccer every day at lunch and then work out every day after work. I'm not sure how long I can continue this. It seems worth it because I'm in great shape and tear it up on the soccer field. I'll probably just keep it up until the bottle of pills is empty, take some pictures of myself to show to my kids one day, and then see how I do after I'm off of it.

Anybody else have experiences with work-out supplements that they want to share?

Monday, March 12, 2007

The Quadruple Flush

On my way back from Tahoe this weekend I had a sacrosanct experience after eating at Mikuni's in Sacramento on our way back. After a delectable lunch I had to possibly deuce-deuce it up before the long trip home, but I was thwarted by powers beyond those of mortal men. As soon as I opened the door I could tell that someone was in there emptying their bowels and, most likely, the gates of hell along with it. I've been in plenty a port-o-potty that necessitated holding one's breath, and even some individual stalls at work, but never an entire public bathroom. I closed the door and waited outside for two reasons. One, the bathrooms were all being used; and two, to save the rest of the restaurant from being contaminated.

After some poor souls were able to breast-stroke themselves through the dense fog of stink in order to leave, I took a deep breath and entered. At this time deuce-duece was definitely out of the question without some sort of seperate air supply. I put my water bottle down and then proceeded to divide my intentions by themselves ("uno-uno" for the mathematically or linguistically impaired) at the urinal. It was at this time that I experienced what I thought was the illogical and impossible: the Quadruple Flush. I've heard of courtesy flushes and double flushes, but never a quadruple flush. I think that his reasoning was that the smell would be able to permeate through the local sewage system, trail him, and then this disaster would be linked to him. He was most likely trying to flush his turd into the next county (and, rightfully so). Curious. Interesting. Captivating. I suppose that that would do the trick. The man is probably working from experience.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

The "V" in V-day Doesn't Stand for Valentine's

The "V" in V-day doesn't stand for Valentine's. According to Wikipedia, Valentine's day was named after two or three men (?), both/all Christian martyrs named Valentine. They were thought to be martyred in 269, 270, or 273. It's rumor that while jailed, Valentine sent a card to a young woman and signed it: from your valentine. Enough boring facts. The point is that it doesn't stand for this guy anymore. I don't know any guys that get excited about the approach of Valentine's Day. Guys don't get anything and have to shell out cash to prove that they care about their significant other. For these reasons, "V-day" will now be known as "Vagina Day".

I'm cool with Vagina Day, but I would also like to propose that there is a subsequent "SB -day." You might be curious what "S" and "B" stand for. Well, what is it that a man wants and appreciates? You got it: steak and blow jobs. That would make me feel special and loved after forking out bucks for candy, flowers, and dinner. From now on, February 15th will be known as SB-day. Thanks to Gary Luu for mentioning that he's heard of this before.

More ponderings about Valentine's Day: who is that cracker baby with wings anyways? It's scary enough seeing a flying baby without putting a bow and arrow in his hands. With divorce rates up to 52% in the US, should we really be trusting our most important emotion to a hovering naked baby? I'm a pretty realistic guy. I realize that it can't be the SAME baby that gets to be cupid throughout all of time. It must be like being master of a dojo - it's handed down from generation to generation to the most worthy. Well, I think that our current Cupid is really screwing up. A lot of people have conjectured who the modern day cupid is, but I've had my own suspicions for years now: it's Gary goddamn Coleman! - he's, like, a baby for life, it totally makes sense.

Friday, January 26, 2007

Classy Ladies

This weekend I was hanging out w/ Quinn. We were on our way to a restaurant and she wanted me to hold her purse. Now, I’m a moderately leveled gentleman, but I refuse to hold a purse for anything longer than ½ a block. Standing and holding a purse is not that painful, but walking with a purse should only happen in times where time is extremely important. Anyways, she gives me this line: “A real man is secure with holding a woman’s purse”. I’m not easily fooled by blatantly illogical propaganda, so I returned with “A classy lady takes it in the a$$”. I figured that since women everywhere were jockeying for men to do what they want that men should also petition for something equally ridiculous that women do not want to do. So, gentleman, the next time your woman tries to get you to do something that just doesn’t make sense, please remember these words.