Virus in My Chicken

I spent all of Thursday evening trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with my computer. Apparently there's some sort of virus lovin' up on my system - great.

Rewind to Thursday morning, I wake-up all disheveled and confused, go to the bathroom briefly and then come out to my computer to post on this shit. Well, little did I know, that I left my MSN messenger on all night (which happens quite often) and MSN doesn't have away messages, you can go on 'AWAY' mode but people are still gonna message you. So... whenever I leave it on, I wake up in the morning and filter through a bunch of messages that I received IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.
Note: Almost everyone on my MSN list is on an entirely different time-zone (which is a reason for me to sometimes leave it on, because otherwise I would have NO communication ability with said folk) so it's more acceptable that I get messaged at 3 a.m. EST.

Thursday morning is here, and everyone knows how I am in the morning ... I'm looking through one of my messages and there is a link pasted over 10 times in the same message window with the occassional interruptive "LOOK! it's YOU!" and "CLICK HERE!"

For fuck's sake, why did I go and click on that shit. That's like clicking on an email from 'Lonely Lina' (frequents my inbox) "Hi, I am 18 Yer Old Russan Freshgirl in college, I be bored, so I get it and buy Webcam, come watch tricks I learn in America." You just know it's trouble, or at the least a pop-up party on your desktop! EVERYONE knows that you DON'T CLICK on stupid things that get your attention in email such as subject lines: "Sorry" "You were right" "Hey, You there?" and a shit-load of some other dumb shit.

I got the email thing down, but again, why I clicked on the MSN message link, I don't know. But it gets worse ....

Not only did I click on the link, which took me to a shady blank page which then prompted a download dialogue, but I did something even worse. You know the download box that comes up, and you can hit CANCEL, or NO or SAVE AS, well yeah, any of those would have been cool, but I fucked up and clicked on OPEN right away. I AT LEAST should have clicked on 'SAVE AS' and that way gave a chance for my anti-virus Piece of SHIT software to try and do something. I guess I should know better than to do what I did and then spend the rest of the evening cursing at the little yellow shield in the bottom right hand corner of my desktop.

If L.H. could hear this story he would blow-up like no other Dr./ English teacher ever has. Len was my old boss, where? AT A COMPUTER LAB where I had to manage over 60 computers that get regularly assaulted by the college-kid public!!!! My job for over a year was to handle that shit, keep viruses out, clean shit up (on slow days we could play X-BOX on the 15 ft. projection screen, or you know, watch a DVD or two). Granted it was early in the A.M. I should have at least had an ounce of computer savvey still left in me.

I knew I should have stuck to the damn cafeteria with my little blue shirt (later promoted to a RED shirt, mind you) with the hat to match, and black apron. There, I would serve endless scoops of General Tso Chicken (or Taco Salad or Cheesecake or make Subs -- one time this one girl asked me to "please put a smiley mustard-face" on her turkey and swiss?!?!!?) to Freshman sorority sweethearts who went back to their dorms, huffed it up, and then probably all met up in the bathroom for a throw-up orgy. It was quite a fascinating cycle.

I gotta run now, but I wrote all this and don't even know what shall come of it, as I still suspect the virus is doing it's thing on my system. Maybe It'll turn my garbage words into some magical, sense-making writing, Or ... automatically post up pictures of 'European Nannies' doing what they do best. I think you should settle for whatever comes out.

Happy Friday.

Note: My BEST work at the cafeteria came at my register/ cashier position days. It felt good to have "the powers that be" when it comes to, you know, 'CHARGING' for food that would otherwise get dumped in the dumpster at the end of the night.

What is WHAT THE HELL, Alex?

This Looks Like Fun although the future of this blog, my sleep, food, TV, and all other basic human functions are in jeopardy of going on hold for the next 5 or 6 months.

I've actually already started putting some stuff down for this. Just some random ideas/ areas I could tackle. I also made a list (I like making lists) of people I should contact and use as a resource. Consider yourself very blessed should you be one of those people as I hold them all in high-regard, and should I go on to the next level (World Domination), they will serve as my panel of power.

I enjoy the writing, and the blogging; if I should decide to do this (which I am 90% sold that I will in-fact give it a shot) I might just turn the blog into a feedback forum where I would post sketches/ ideas and get some harsh, harsh words thrown back at me. Wait ... that's not very smart considering that from 2,000+ page hits, I have something like 3 comments (and 2 of them are my own).

In other news, my cable bill arrived yesterday ... great! except for the fact that it arrived OPENED (someone opened it, the company didn't forget to 'lick' the envelope ... this was actualy a torn-open envelope). Why even bother getting it to me? Things like that will just make me more paranoid. Whoever is the culprit of such nasty evil deeds should have just kept the damn thing, maybe even paid it for me. Unless of course they're trying to send some sort of message of intimidation, in which case ... I get it. Loud and Clear, Loud. and. Clear. (FUCK YOU TOO).

Now I can say, with 100% certainty that someone is tampering with my mail (previously the certainty level was 99% but I only based that on a few consecutive months of missing my bathroom reading - No Maxims, Time, Rolling Stone, Spin, Blender, Stuff, ESPN, Sports Illustrated, Vibe and ... InShape women's fitness, that one was thrown in for free).

What's next? A rabbit boiling on my stove top? I seriously just want to move far, far away (maybe to the town where 'The Ring 2' family up and packed-up to) -- I think I would do alright (and would rather be) dealing with THE DEVIL CHILD. If all else fails, I'd at least get some sort of entertainment value from it all.

Note: Watch Dateline NBC tonight (Wednesday) 8pm EST.

Never, Ever ...

Speed in Maryland. That’s correct, “The Old Line State”, turns out to be nothing but a stretch of “treacherous” road for five-oh to setup their little speed traps … of DEATH. During my 1-hour whiz by the state that was named in honor of Queen Henrietta Maria, I swear I have seen no less than 20 Police units … just chillin’, lurking, and just aching to turn on the Red and Blue fun. If Henrietta can see this mess going on in her name’s sake, she would definitely be doing some serious cartwheels in her gold-laced grave.

I drive through Maryland (almost every weekend) on my way to Washington D.C. My last drive has made me dislike the state (particularly driving through it, but you can go ahead and evolve my words to the next level, Maryland SUCKS).

So I did some ‘research’ (I do so much 'research' that I barely have time to eat) on my now potentially least liked blue-state … (The red-ones all definitely place somewhere way, way, at the bottom of the list). Their state motto is: "Fatti Maschii, Parole Femine" that’s something (Probably Latin) for “Manly Deeds, Womanly Words.” What the hell is that supposed to mean? Choking the Chicken and Tampon comparisons? Toilet-seat up and complaining about Toilet-Seat being up? Taking the trash out and “Now go and rake the yard?” (Now accepting applications for exemplary statements demonstrating “Manly Deeds, Womanly Words.”)

The Road Drama: Most notable, out of the 20 police units (dispersed over a 70-mile stretch) were the two police units in Baltimore just outside Ft. McHenry tunnel (I-95 South). These bitches setup RIGHT before the toll-booths, you know, the 50 feet where you have to SLAM your brakes to go from driving at about 60 mph and slow-down to the posted limit of 10 mph.

Everyone’s driving, singing, boppin’ their head to “In Da Club” (The Beyoncé remix that starts with “No Shorty, It’s Beyoncé” and goes on to proclaim that "If the ladies wanna hate me, I'll just send 'em a bottle" which to my surprise, has never worked for me) and sure enough, Slick-Paul comes out Lights blazing. One goes out after the reckless driver in the EZ-Pass lane who had to be driving at a whopping 25 mph. Ok, so one police car in the toll booth lanes, the guy driving it is a straight-up asshole – he knows that EVERYONE coming up to a toll-booth is ‘speeding’ by normal road standards.

Ok, so everyone else is HAPPY that it wasn’t them who got nailed by said asshole cop #1. We go on our merry way of 12 mph for about 20 more feet and BAM… motherfucker #2 comes out, lights blazing. This guy is even worse than his friend. He didn’t even go after someone in the EZ-Pass lane, this guy got in line in the cash lane (disco lights on) to follow this one car. Thank god he was in-front of me, I think one of the worst feelings one could have is “Here’s my 2 dollars, Ms. Toll-Booth-Lady … and just so you know, I’m about to pull off right after I leave you here, and get my ass ticketed for god-knows how much more, so feel free to take your sweet-ass time ... In fact, I'de like my change in double-counted pennies.”

I guess deep down somewhere, I appreciate their efforts in our safety and general well-being, but you’ve got to be kidding me, in Baltimore? Isn’t your time better spent hangin’ out around the corner from ‘Club Pussy Cat’ – surely there’s got to be something more exciting than toll booth MANIACS ripping-up the I-95 asphalt. If for nothing else, you could at least get a glimpse of the strippers walking into (or out of) ‘Club Pussy Cat’ and maybe even play a game of “guess how far along she is” with your other cop buddy.

I still got love for my Maryland ‘posse’ – but maybe you guys should do like Northern Virginia and claim D.C. as “home”. No-one will probe into it any further, and if they do, you can take comfort in knowing that any of the following answers: Baltimore, Bethesda, Annapolis, Gaithersburg, Ellicott City and Silver Spring would be more ‘Cool’ than anything Northern VA-ish.

On the contrary, the 20 or so miles of I-95 road through Delaware are just safe, empty and oh-so-sweet. No cops, no cars, no construction, no lights, no mile markers, barely any asphalt, no lines on the road and most importantly NOT A SINGLE FUCKING PLACE TO STOP AT AN ATM because you forgot that you don’t have cash for the tolls. Bless their heart.

Note: Now, I have one State down. Eventually, at some point, I hope to develop some sort of ‘beef’ with a total of 49 states. I’ll have to settle and learn to love the 50th one (as long as it’s not: Ohio, West Virginia, Nebraska, North Dakota, South Dakota, North & South Carolina, Virginia, Kentucky, Indiana, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Iowa … I could go on, but I really don’t know all the states by heart. There, I said it).

Desperate Housewives?

The Italians (Raffaele Iannello) are at it again



Note: Big fan -- I actually like the product. Cultural reference, social commentary and humor are a breath of fresh-air when you're used to those big blocks of slotted wood.

BELUGet the Hell out of There

"Helis" is still stuck in the delaware river.

I'm not sure how he ended up with the name Helis. It doesn't sound whale-ish, and it doesn't sound river-ish and it doesn't sound ocean-ish, so I have no idea where the Helis connection comes in. There should have been some play on the bright white whale being in this murky water. Reminds me of one night, a group of us went to The Waffle House and the waitress asked the only white guy on the table: "Do you feel like a marshmallow in a bowl of coco-puffs?"

Ofcourse it took us forever to analyze her prose and make the connection. We thought this was a menu item she was offering up, ONE marshmallow in a bowl of coco-puffs (TWH, if you ever do put this on the menu, I want a share).

The Beluga whale ended up on the river sometime this month. They say he apparently came here looking for fish to eat. I heard some saying about being stuck up shit creek or sent up shit creek or something of the sort. How fitting.

Why would you leave the ocean and come to the Delaware river of all places? It's not the cleanest river, in fact, it's down right nasty. This really makes me question the species. They're fascinating but maybe too pretty for their own good. One time, on the discovery channel, I saw a Polar bear pull a fast one on a flock of Beluga whales.

Homeboy was on the arctic tundra, hungry as a motherfucker. The water was entirely frozen, except but one little hole. So Mr. Polar bear saw the whales coming up for air (whatever it is they do, shoot water up their head) through that little hole in the ice. He just stayed by the hole, and every Beluga whale that came up for air, got their ass snatched out of the water and bitten. He was too busy to even start eating all of them at once, he would chew a little bit ... and then go back to the hole to get another one. He must have done this to at least 6 whales. Eventually, I presume the whales made their way to the local Polar bear buffet.

Shouldn't you be alarmed that your friends who go up for air, are not coming back down? If for no other reason, maybe it's as simple as "the air is bad." Why would you stick your head out there time and time again?

So, Helis, still in the river is an attraction around here. People taking pictures etc. Scientists say he appears to be healthy, but they're not sure how long he can survive in fresh-water. Does he plan on just staying here and eating until he bites it?

Another theory is that Helis is old as dirt. He is about 35 years old, and in whale years that's pretty up there. They say that's the possible reason why he's in the river. I don't understand that explanation, is it dementia? Is he shunned by his peers through natural selection? One scientist thinks this guy is in retirement.

"He may be just trying to finish his life in a warmer area," Michaud told The Philadelphia Inquirer.

What a sucky retirement package. Thank you for your 40 years of service, here is your lifetime's (what's left of it) supply of fish, eat and enjoy -- don't get too fat.

Happy Friday.

Note: On second thought, If I was offered my entire retirement in (cooked) chicken (rather than fish) - I might re-consider. They would have to come up with an ellaborate system to keep it interesting. One day it's fried, with some hot sauce, the next day it's grilled, then broiled and then baked etc.

Whoa, Nelly!

Check it - ever since friend and ex co-worker J.M. transferred jobs and moved, I have become tennis partner-less.

So I did what any conclave (?) would do, and I went online to see if I could find local people who are interested in playing on a regular basis. Naturally, I checked out the ‘activities’ section on Craigslist – there were a few listings but like everything on Craigslist; the listings were oozing with shade and sketch. No Thanks. One posting read:

SWM looking for SW female tennis partner, 28 years old, 6’2”, 185 lbs. Very talented in many ways. Get in touch.

Ok, so I don’t know what this dude really has in mind – The posting definitely sounds very sketchy and that it should belong in ‘Casual Encounters’. Talented in many ways? What the hell does that entail? Forehand, Backhand, Serve and … Oral? Whatever it may be, I am hereby advising him that should any ‘SWM females’ reply to his post I’m pretty sure an on-court orgy would not fly with anyone (and at the least might get you a ride to your local Po-lease station). So Craigslist, as always, was a disaster.

I then found Tennis Tip, a very cool site that basically has a bunch of tips from tennis legends. Here is one I particularly enjoyed:

"Ladies, here's a hint. If you're up against a girl with big boobs, bring her to the net and make her hit backhand volleys. That is the hardest shot for the well endowed." - Bille-Jean King.

So, Tennis Tip also has this new feature called ‘Find a Tennis Partner’. You basically search your state and it brings up people who are signed up and you can invite them (or vice versa) to play. A couple of interested players (guys around my age) here and there – emails back and forth but no play because of some serious schedule conflicts.

And THENNNNNNNNNNN … came Nelly.

Nelly sent me an invite to play. Nelly was listed as a 46-55 year old Female at 3.5 (amateur rating) – which is not too bad and she “enjoys single and tennis double”. It took me all day long to figure out whether or not to ‘ACCEPT’ – Honestly, my main concern was an unredeemable Ego bashing.
Eventually, I accepted the invite, and thought that playing some tennis would be better than nothing (I know, it sounds terribly desperate).

The agreed court-time was 5:30, so we get there and everything is cool. Nelly is a very nice lady (46-55 yrs old) – Good experience, solid groundstrokes and you can tell she’s been playing regularly for quite a while. That’s great, I won’t feel awkward about blasting shots or going for big first serves at all, we ended up warming up for about 30 minutes or so. Nelly had 2 friends playing on the court next to ours, two older gentlemen. After the singles warm-up the consensus is that we would all play doubles and at least free-up one of the courts since people were waiting.

Everything is cool. Until …

Nelly’s husband shows up and things start getting strange. I should have mentioned that Nelly is of Arabic background, but she didn’t know that I spoke and understood Arabic as well (this isn’t heading anywhere good). Nelly’s husband is apparently a very funny man; he walks onto the court’s sideline and the first thing he yells in Arabic “Nelly, Teezik Bayna” (Nelly, your ass is showing) and erupts in uncontrollable laughter. It took everything for me not to just break out and laugh right there.

During our match, the husband would make (adult-ish) stabs at her (in Arabic) the whole time, and she would stab right back at him … there was something very open in their sexually-natured banter (but then again, I’m sure they didn’t think anyone was listening).

This was too awkward now, I can’t go up to them and tell them my secret – that would just embarrass the hell out of couple. So I stayed quiet.

The tennis fest was over, and the evening was winding down, and then came The Mossad/ Scotland Yard and downright KGB portion of the evening. As we’re packing up our stuff, I get BOMBARDED with questions from Nelly. I wouldn’t even finish my answer and then BOOM, next question – it was unbelievable.

Where did you go to school?
How long have you lived here?
Where do you work?
Where did you live before?
Where in town do you live?
What street Address? (!!?!?!?!!?)
You live alone?
What did you study?
How much do they pay you? (!?!?!!?)
and many, many more...

I swear to god, some of these questions my MOM doesn’t even know. What the Fuck are we doing here, let’s stalk the boy from the internet ?!?!? My street address? What the hell do you want with my street address? And NO, I’m not telling you how much I’m getting paid – How much are YOU getting paid, driving that hot Audi? AND … yes, I live alone but I have bodyguards, so don’t try shit. I actually wrote some of it off as OK, she’s trying to get to know me, but for fuck’s sake let me get a question in too.

The annoying part is that she kept relaying my answers to her husband (in Arabic) – and adding “witty” editorials to them. Very disrespectful, but I understood it all, every single word ... Nelly (and I got to see your exposed ass – so WHAT, how you like me now?)

When it came to what I studied and what I do, I said Industrial Design. I guess deep down somewhere, Nelly is not fond of Industrial Designers “Industrial Design? My daughter wanted to do that and I said NO WAY! No! Never!” she went on to add “Yes, my daughter is in Mechanical Engineering now, a REAL profession”.

I decided to fire back: That’s nice - considering that about 50% (not the exact percentage, but definitely a substantial number) of Industrial Designers are Mechanical Engineers who realized how boring their REAL profession was and switched to this one (The Hotness).

Nelly: “Yes, well, because it’s easier, it is an easier major, it’s art-based – You draw a lot right?”

Me: I was just flabbergasted. Stayed totally silent. Not that there is anything wrong with Art, and yes, I do draw a lot (but it’s not ‘easy’ – Perspective is a science of its own) but she seemed to be confused somewhere.

I should have said: Art-Based? First of all, it’s a BS and I’d like to see you try figuring out things such mold tapers, thickness, draft angles, creep, co-moldings, flammability and a barrage of other headaches. Or better yet, how about you figure-out how to lay Carbon Fiber (probably on top of a Titanium skeleton), Co-mold it with Santoprene, Machine the whole thing and then cast on top of that to make that pretty little racquet you have.

The husband even tried to remedy this now terribly awkward conversation and said (in Arabic) “Nelly, you’re wrong.”

So, it’s cool. I had fun hitting around, but didn’t particularly enjoy the career counseling section of the day.

Note: Even though I wrote this post, I sort of dismissed the whole evening and haven’t sat down to think about what just happened - there’s probably little details of the tennis-date (Interrogation) that will come back to me, I’ll add them as they get refreshed in my memory.

The Chicken or The Egg?

Who fucking cares. This age old philosophical dilemma is one that I have found yields nothing profound. I have yet to hear a convincing argument from either side … and frankly, I think waiters and waitresses could benefit from asking it more than those seemingly deep, deep folk.

“We’re not sure if the smoke is Black or White … it’s sort of Gray … wait… BELLS are ringing … wait, that could just mean Six O’clock.”
– My first exposure to the news/ the outside world when I got home from work

So … New Pope, German Boy … Benedict XVI (R.S. has mentioned that Benedict is Vatican-ese/an/ish for “Good Dick” – I am only quoting here, no hate-mail please). However, word on the grapevine is that the new Pope had previously undergone a De-Nazi-fication class because as a 14 year-old he was forced to join something bad (Hitler made them all do it). I think De-Nazi-fication is akin to what we more commonly know as "diversity training" in our every day hum-drum corporate lives.

Charming, but I’m definitely not one to judge. The news reports have mentioned that he is an extremely smart 78-year-old, and a very kind, kind man. That’s definitely a good start.

AND … also, this Pope is nicknamed “God’s Rottweiler” because of his hardcore Catholicism, wow, thing, and stuff. I’m trying to figure out what exactly that means, how ‘hardcore’ is ‘hardcore’? Go on with your bad self … you Rottweiler, you. GGgrrrrrr.

I couldn’t care any less, but I’m a little upset and disappointed that the Nigerian candidate isn’t the new Pope. Francis Arinze was apparently a “front-runner” for the Papacy. Yesterday, at work, R.B. mentioned that the previous 10 Papal “CONCLAVES” have also had Black cardinals as “front-runners.” Well, it seems even the Vatican plays the "token" game, and I thought that was just a reality TV thing.

I actually didn’t want to go there and cry foul – but I saw an interview on T.V. where they were asking some Italians on the street who they want the next Pope to be … and the overwhelming response regarding Francis Arinze was (Italian for) “The next Pope can’t be Black, no, no, no.”

Enough. I will refrain from blasting The Catholic Faith, The Vatican, The Italians (Ok... so you guys bring some decent food to the table, and?) I also had a bunch of LITTLE BOY ABUSE/ MOLESTATION jokes that I won’t unleash mainly because I could probably use them in another post sometime down the line, when something warrants such a nefarious (or should I say NAFarious) low-blow.

I do however want to discuss the word “conclave”. Conclave is defined (by Oxford, so the Queen said it was cool) as a secret meeting; it also does mention that it is specific to electing the new Pope. Am I the only person who is disturbed (on so many levels) by that word? It just sounds like:

1) A body part: a dirty, dirty orifice somewhere on someone’s dirty, dirty body.

2) An object: Probably not something good (perhaps of medieval origins).

3) A person: The kind that nobody likes.

Hmmm - that actually makes it the perfect cuss word. I personally feel there’s too many cuss words out there: “Fuck” “Bastard” “Bitch” “Asshole” “Cunt” "Dickhead” (Tourette-Syndrome-Free here, but I could sit here all day and write every dirty word I could ever think of – I really, really do enjoy it) and too many cuss words is not fun because sometimes you can’t decide and you just end up saying something weak like “DUMBASS” or “DUFUS” or god forbid your lame-ass from saying “Ho.”

I think “Conclave” solves that pretty well. e.g: ”You can take your CONCLAVE and shove it up your CONCLAVE you fucking CONCLAVE.” (“Fucking” here is in the form of a supportive adjective, not it’s traditional verb form and not the occasionally used noun form, so it’s cool to include it with Conclave in a supporting role – the Queen would definitely bless).

Also, I should mention (if by any chance anyone who is a Catholic is STILL reading) that I in no-way mean any disrespect to you, your religion, your theological belief (is that the same as 'religion'?) and your ceremonies of picking a Head of Church. Everyone will hear some things that might offend him or her – stop whining and take it in jest. Besides, it’s early in the morning and I usually come off as offensive during this time of the day.

Truce?

Note: I really don’t know what happened to the Chicken (obsession #67) and Egg thing. Perhaps another time. Also, I could have written about American Idol (obsession #19) – But I REFUSE to do so until my favorite (obsession #112) gets (wrongfully) and pre-maturely booted off the show … and then … I swear by all that is holy … FOX, Simon, Randy, Paula and Ryan will get it real bad from this master of mean.

Obsession #405

Yup. I've concocted a new fragrance that may or may not launch sometime in the near future. The hope is to at least market it by 2007, because 2007 is apparently "My Year". (I saw a psychic one time and they said that 2007 will be "it" - Don't know what that means, but it seems like a long-ass time away ... why couldn't I have gotten 2005 or something sooner). Seriously though, something better happen in 2007 and it better involve mucho dineros (could it be possible that I'd win some sort of jackpot? I really think about this every single night).

But no, there's really no fragrances involved, instead:

I saw a preview for The Skeleton Key Well ...And ... Now ... I have a new obsession (on top of everything else, I'm telling you, there's not enough hours in the day). Get a load of that trailer. Unbelievable. Unfortunately, we have to wait until August or some other time this coming summer which basically means forget about it until you see the 'NOW PLAYING' commercials.

I don't really classify this as a 'horror', I prefer to think of it as a less-menacing 'drama'. Horror just sounds bad and nobody will go and see it with you (in the past, I have had to shamelessly lie and say things like: this is cool, it's a 'romantic comedy' you'll like it, it's about a guy who wants to propose to his girlfriend ... and I took my friend to see 'The Ring'). Terrible, I know - but someone has to do it.

Also, Will this be the movie where I finally get to appreciate Kate Hudson. In my opinion, Kate is currently what I would classify as a 'C' list celebrity, maybe even a 'D' - she's just whack. I Didn't really care for her much in her break-out "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days." However, watching someone go crazy before your eyes (as I assume will happen in The Skeleton Key will always up their street cred in my book of street creds.

Tag line for TSK: There are those who practice little known rituals of magic and witch-craft --conjure and sacrifice. Shit, you know that nothing gets my blood boiling like the aforementioned ... "finer" things in life. Especially the part about 'conjure'. Very charming - but I do insist (and everyone knows) that the best things in life are "little known rituals". Not much more to say on TSK. We shall see what amounts of it.

Oh, another main reason why I think it's going to be a good one is that in all 'mediocre' horror film trailers, you're usually able to catch a glimpse of 'whatever-it-is' that's making everyone go nuts (like a guy wearing an Alien Nation(?) mask slashing up actors on a movie set ... just look at that). This one doesn't really give you anything, just some shady, shady characters everywhere.

Note: moral of this piece? I don't know, quite a few... but mainly the thing about Kate Hudson ... There's also quite a few more 'leading ladies' that I just don't understand what the hoop-lah is all about ... Kirsten Dunst, terrible and quite whack; Renee Zellweger, the whackest one of all.

Building Your Character

Today I will be discussing (or rather preaching) the gospel and teaching all you fools how to live your life the right way and the good way. We will be talking about many things that should be strict regiments of your lifestyles. Such as (but not limited to): drinking milk, eating toast, brushing your teeth (twice daily); walking your dogs (very important) and last but not least remembering to always wipe from front to back and not the other way around (or else Outkast will make a song about how your roses really smell like Poooohoohhhooo).

On second thought, I shouldn't try that on a Monday. This is a different kind of character building. Check for yourself.


(An excerpt):

Anonymous: remember Nafie, I want to be the villain that lives...b/c in every movie, the bad guys end up dead at the end
Anonymous: that's not going to be me
NafieNafie: no baby
NafieNafie: you would never die in my movie
Anonymous: no?
NafieNafie: the LAST shot
Anonymous: oh good
NafieNafie: would be
NafieNafie: you walking away
NafieNafie: towards the moon-lit sky
NafieNafie: with your tight leather pants
NafieNafie: and a smoking gun
Anonymous: I want to be making love w/ you in the last shot...
NafieNafie: hanging from your waist
NafieNafie: lol
Anonymous: the camera is going to show this woman
Anonymous: and everyone is going to think it's the good girl.
Anonymous: but instead, it's me, the villain. Looking dead straight at the camera
Anonymous: the shock is that everyone thought I was dead...
NafieNafie: Oh god
NafieNafie: wow
NafieNafie: I love your creativity
NafieNafie: that's hot
NafieNafie: yes
Anonymous: yeah
NafieNafie: two bodies
NafieNafie: PASSIONATELY intertwined
NafieNafie: and everyone thinks it's miss goody 2 shoes
NafieNafie: and then it's YOU
NafieNafie: the BAD BITCH
NafieNafie: and you stare in the camera
NafieNafie: and then you lift up the nice-girl's DECAPITATED head
NafieNafie: you just sent that broad to H-town
NafieNafie: holy shit
NafieNafie: that would be a SHOCKING scene
Anonymous: H-town?
NafieNafie: Yeah. Heaven (or hell) but she’s “good” so in her case H-town would be Heaven.
Anonymous: I want to be in a dark room...w/ the moonlight beaming at the 2 bodies. The audience knows that it's you...But are wondering who that woman is. Turns out that it's me, the villain...It is I who has seduced you...and as I inhale our intimate moment. I give you a soft kiss and look up right at the camera w/ a smirk
NafieNafie: lol
Anonymous: hahha
Anonymous: hahhaaaaaaaaaaaaaahha
Anonymous: I’m so stupid
NafieNafie: that's a possibility
Anonymous: hmm...
Anonymous: where are you in your script now?
NafieNafie: I’m not at script level yet
NafieNafie: I’m just writing
NafieNafie: some thoughts
NafieNafie: quite random
Anonymous: oooh
NafieNafie: very dark…
Anonymous: oh
NafieNafie: very deep … demented … and disturbing thoughts
Anonymous: oooh
Anonymous: yes I like that
NafieNafie: hmmm


Ok, so that was fun. Word is bond. 'Nuff said.


Note: Am I the only person who thinks this is the weirdest (and funniest) conversation, Ever. Ha! I wouldn't want it any other way. It might just end up creeping it's way into my 'script'. I L U "Anonymous".

Culture Shock: Reloaded

WARNING: This post is of disturbing nature. If you are faint-hearted, please, do me a favor and stop reading now. Pansy.

I kid (do these types of warnings really work anyways?), I’m not writing about anything too terrible. I just have to share some feelings about the pragmatics of this blog. There are several reasons why I’ve kept this up for all of 20 days or so (maybe less? More? I don’t know) mainly the fact that I can get myself in a routine of writing. By nature, I think I’m definitely a nocturnal being, but that doesn’t work too well past your graduation day so … in an attempt to become more diurnal, I have been getting up early (what I consider early, 6:30-ish or so) and hitting the keyboards!

I was always under the impression that I can’t really think that early in the morning. It’s true; I still believe it takes me about 3 hours to fully wake up. Although, I must say that some days I surprise myself and my seemingly half-asleep body and mind come together and make sweet, sweet … babies (?)

Like with everything, there are advantages and disadvantages of this new “schedule”. For example, one advantage is that I get to work quicker than usual (and consequently leave quicker than usual, which gives me a longer evening and therefore more options for my evening).

Another advantage would be that I am expanding my means of creative outlet and at times I'm even getting some half-decent counseling from Microsoft Word M.D. (not that I need it).

So, after doing this (waking up early to write) for about 20 consecutive days, I have come to the conclusion that I do indeed have that discipline in me (to wake up early in the morning), so it’s not about discipline, it has now become about passion. I have ZERO passion for anything to do with the morning time. Such as (but not limited to):

The sun is too bright (I can’t see too well while I drive).

The water takes longer to warm up since you’re one of the first to tap into the building’s supply of hot water (Did I not already say that I was too particular for my own good when it comes to stupid little pointless things?)

I don’t photosynthesize, so even biologically, sunlight is useless to me. I know there are some studies about sunlight, UV rays and things of the sort affecting serotonin levels in the brain, but those are all just theories. Right?

Mainly, the biggest downside of waking up early in the morning is hearing the birds outside my window making too much of that noise they make. I recall having a conversation with someone who was “touched by the sound of birds chirping at the sun’s morning rays” (or something equally as poetic) and that was actually a reason for them to wake up every morning.

YUCK! You’ve got to be messin’ with me.

1) Its annoying

2) I ABSOLUTELY, positively, unequivocally ten-fold CANNOT stand birds, as a matter of fact I hate them, and on the overwhelming majority of occasions I am terrified to death of them. This includes ALL species, all ages and sizes. The sight (or sound) of a bird is the absolute worst thing that can happen to me (even the site of a dead bird or a tuft of feathers).

I’ve actually researched this “fear of birds” and it’s medically termed as ornithophobia: an abnormal and persistent fear of birds, encountering and even being attacked by birds although the patient may realize their fears are quite irrational. Irrational or not, I don’t care. Keep us apart.
('researched' makes you sound a lot more articulate and maybe a notch smarter, but we all know that 'researched' is the Queen's English term for it's American counterpart GOOGLED - which is also an official word).

The “Ornithologist” character from ‘H&R Fuck’ could never fathom why I passed up a chance to visit a banding station where they band & study BIG birds of prey such as, but not limited to, Hawks, Falcons and Eagles. Some of them have wing-spans of 6-8 feet. I honestly think I would rather get cooked in a slow simmering batch of feces (OK, maybe this post really is of disturbing nature & not suitable for the faint-hearted… Sorry!) But you get my point, it's not my thing.

The subject is deserving of an entire post, probably in 'BLAST mode' because I'm so passionate about it. If I’m feeling good, I might even throw in a few stories starting with my first encounter with a bird – which in all honesty is probably why I have always had this ‘irrational’ psychosis when it comes to birds. Hitchcock has NOTHING on this.

Happy Friday.

Note: I don't know why I titled this post Culture Shock: Reloaded - but it sounds cool enough for a Friday. It also sounds cooler than Culture Shock: Revolutions.

Skinny People are Evil

I know and I hereby acknowledge that my heartless non-merciful bad-ass of a self has written the pooch-scathing post “Lick me! Lick me!”

In my defense I wasn’t addressing the dogs themselves (that would classify me as a nut-job, and I don’t like to think of myself as crazy) but I was addressing some of the more irresponsible dog owners out there blah blah blah...
So whatever, I’m thinking of getting a dog. Yes, that’s correct; I am considering getting a dog and joining the masses of dog owners out there. The thing is, if I do go through with this, it would have to fit so many criteria, and if any dog fits all my pre-requisites … well then, ladies and gentlemen that would make it ‘The Perfect Dog.’

The Perfect Dog is preferably fat with short legs (French bulldog style). This is important because my number one qualm is whether I would or would not be able to catch this dog if I need to. If it runs out on the street or runs somewhere, etc. I just want it to be humanly possible to catch up to it. Do Not Want: Grey hound, anything big, lanky and skinny. Besides, dogs are like people, the skinny ones are inherently evil.

Side Post: I must thank H.M.N. for coming up with that brilliant and well explained theory (soon to be a religion: Skinny People are Evil).According to H.M.N. the theory was derived in late 2003 (around about that time). There is yet to be a definitive answer on the exact reason why “Skinny People are Evil” but there are several theories floating about. The front-runnin’ gospel is:

”They are angry because they’re starving.”

So yeah, I don’t want an “evil” (and fast) dog. Unless….
I could use it as some mode of transportation. In that case, a really fast Great Dane, or an equally fast Bull Mastiff would be great! I’ve always had a fantasy of riding into town on a Great Dane (or Bull Mastiff) and thereby creating my own unique brand of cowboy.

I’m also big on self defense. If I could get a dog that would ATTACK (only on command of course) then I would definitely want the meanest sheriff in town. I’ll accept all of the following: a bad Pitbull, a bitter Rottweiler or better yet Cujo “The Dog of War” himself.

Running late, will continue this … at a later date
(My lyrical rhymez is too much for you to handle).

Note: Some skinny people are nice.

Chatter Box

Instant Messaging used to be cool (mostly in college) because it was the way to find out what’s going on. No one ever used their phones and cell phones didn’t start blowing up until the middle of my college career. There was also a very select few people who told you EVERYTHING you needed to know. Where the party was, what happened in the news, Where the free food was and also that they "Feel Like Shit" on a Saturday morning.

Instant Messenger is not just the single half-decent thing to come out of the piece of shit company that is AOL, but it’s … it’s … wait, no that’s it, it’s nothing more than the single half-decent thing to come out of the piece of shit company that is AOL. (Why did Ted Turner go and have to save their ass, then go on TV and say, “I made the biggest mistake of my life”).

I'm not a big IM person anymore (am I?) but still, I use it (everyday) and here are some ... "Self-Criticisms":

1) I’m very “choppy” in my conversation. I’m definitely trigger-happy when it comes to the ‘ENTER’ key. So instead of writing a full sentence or statement or line of thought … I break it up into different lines by hitting ENTER. For example, if I want to convey to someone that:
I have to go to the store and grab something, I’ll be right back.

It actually ends up being:
I
have
to go to
the store to
grabSomething.
brb


2) “Get Buddy Info” is my best friend. I check away messages … yeah; I said it … I check away messages. Well I used to, but now, I don’t like half the people on my IM list, so stalking them isn’t of much interest to me anymore.

3) I go ‘INVISIBLE’ sometimes. You see, I just discovered this feature and it’s pretty cool… the ‘EYE’ thing on top of your buddy list. I don’t really have good reason to; it’s just more fun that way. I see you and you…can’t see me.

4) I sign-off or go on away mode in mid –conversation. Not that I intentionally intend to be disrespectful … (it’s pretty rare that I am disinterested enough to just bail). Most of the time this happens at night and it just means I’m falling asleep. I personally think it’s an act of compassion on my part. You know, rather than leaving them high and dry messaging away at nothing but my snores.

5) I only go on ‘AWAY’ mode if I’m sleeping (or about to go to sleep). I hate leaving away messages, and would rather just sign-off.

6) Careful what you tell me, it might just end up on my profile. Case in point:
MyVeryWhiteFriend: (with great excitement, and after ignoring a couple of my IMs) ”Sorry, I was talking to a SISTAH”

7) I haven't changed my "buddy icon" in forever. I don't even know what it is, but I think it might still be 'THE MATRIX' (the original). Wow, that's so 1999.

8) No list organization. I tried one time, and I put up all these buddy list groups but shit hit the fan and nothing makes sense. There's too many people on there anyways ... Does anyone know who SweetPea420 is ?!?!?!

9) I have a ‘FAMILY’ group with only one person in it. Yup, yes… yours truly, nafienafie is the only occupant of my IM ‘FAMILY’ group. lol

10) 80% of the time I make no sense. I’m very used to seeing Huh? In everyone’s responses. The reason is I tend to chat backwards. I start my conversations with the jist of it, no build-up, no background, nothing. Then, during most of the conversation I try to explain myself, which ... gives me something to do.


Ok, more on AOL, I should have just written this entire thing in “BLAST mode” (like ‘naughty, naughty neighbor’ and ‘H&R fuck’) complete with an F-Bomb in every sentence. However, for fear of coming across as a bitter foul-mouthed fucker, I refrain.

AOL is just terrible. I’ve used their ‘1000 hours of FREE Internet’ (I swear, only because I was in a jam, and hand no other option – but I regret, I regret). This thing is the biggest scam ever. I had to call to cancel and they wouldn’t take “No, Thanks” for an answer. I even lied and said that I was going on a mission in the South American Amazon for 2 years so I won’t need the Internet. The phone-person (who is just doing their job, I understand) STILL tried to convince me to get my service extended.

You know a company sucks when their TV ads include Tuna and Ham sandwiches (?!?!?!?!)

I’m beating a dead horse and I’ve just been filled with an overwhelming sense of disinterest on the subject matter.

Note: Today, I will be late for work (not because of this post).

H&R Fuck

Well, I know the reason why everyone in this country is going to end up in Jail! A little thing called the IRS. This is definitely the most complicated wad of drama I could possibly think-up/ imagine. That’s something considering that at times I can get alarmingly morbid and disturbing. But this would definitely trump me any day.

Ok, this phenomenon not only comes with the threat of dealing with the IRS (and their attorneys) but it also comes with an out-right FELONY (or several actually) waiting on your ass. That’s a bit too much pressure don’t you think? It’s not as easy as 1, 2, 3 or A, B, C or whatever the Jackson 5 said.

First, it would help if “they” printed their instructions on W-4, W-2, W-8 and W-hatever the fuck else in a font bigger than size 6. Who the fuck is supposed to be able to read that shit?!??

If you satisfy any of the following three conditions you will DIE a) if you are single b) if you are married c) if you have a job d) if you are unemployed. Either way your ass is going to die a painful and horrible death (with no funeral) if you agree to the terms (otherwise it’s perjury) please check the box [ ]

This is so complicated that you’ve got a ‘Seasonal White-Collar Firm’ making some serious bank from the whole deal. Nice. All the props to the H&R Blo-odsucking (?) bastards. I love your brilliance! I think H&R Block’s employees work something like 4 months out of the year (Ken Jennings got that question WRONG on jeopardy – why would you ever pick FedEx? Do you not get fruitcake on Christmas?). Sorry, I digress but what happened to the other eight months? I have no clue; it would certainly be one hell of a vacation package if you ask me.

My woes probably trace back to a piece of paper I filled out more than a year ago (one of about 676 papers you fill out with a new job) nonetheless, I don’t remember what it was, and I don’t really remember what I put on there. I guess it’s true, tough lessons are learned the hard way, the next time I’m asked to fill out ANYTHING, I either a) want my attorney present or b) would like to take it home and bring it back in 6 months.

It’s all on the spot too, Human Resources chic is staring over your shoulder, the boss is waiting for you to get done with HR so you can get along with your day and do what you’re getting paid to do. It’s just a Lose/ Lose situation anyway you look at it. What was I supposed to do? Improvise? OK!

Picture this, your first day of work, taking care of paperwork, the regular routine (No, I have neither used, manufactured, possessed nor distributed any narcotics … etc, etc.) and then comes TAX stuff … Uh Oh …

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry, I graduated with honors but … I have no fucking clue how to do this or what to do, you guys just hired a straight up IDIOT. Dumbasses.”

Or:
”I actually CAN’T read. Is there a way you can do this for me? I’ll buy you lunch you nice, nice Mr. or Ms. HR-person”

And this one always works:
”Lo Siento, No hablo inglés” (but be warned, these days, they have EVERYTHING in Spanish as well as English) So… No hay nada que puedo hacer.

The thing about it, is that the shit will always come back to bite you in the ass (HARD!) come this time of the year. You can definitely count on some added stress (but I’m totally cool, not even a single bone of mine is stressed… No, really…). And why does everyone at work seem to have a “Friend, who’s a CPA” who just happens to be “Doing my taxes for me” … Where the hell are my friends? I know a Personal Trainer (shout out to the Swiss Miss), a Doctor-in-training (Hong Kong in the house), An Ornithologist (yeah, look that one up, Beeyatch), and many, many more, but no CPAs.

I’m cursed with too much of a “fragile psyche” (as D.S. pointed out) to battle the undefeatable evil that is TAX SEASON! On the bright side ... ‘LOST’ is airing a few new episodes for the first time in 2005.

Note: For some reason I remember that I’ve always confused the IRS with the IRA (that Irish one) our most recent addition to the World’s-Super-Terrorist-Groups. Hmmm

Sin City

This was the highlight of my weekend, hands down. This is the coolest movie I’ve seen in a while. It’s rare that you get to see a movie where every single character has depth. Most movies have a bunch of gratuitous bozos – Why? To chill on the set I guess.

First of all, I’m not a big comic book person; I usually find them hard to follow and too much clutter going on everywhere. In general, I’m also the type of person who “waits for the movie to come out.” I’m not familiar with Frank Miller’s graphic novels, so I went into this with nothing more than a few Internet hits on Rosario Dawson.

The technical stuff is just incredible, the kind of stuff that breaks grounds.

The movie is just too good to sit here and dissect every little thing and give you a traditional synopsis/ review. Just go see it.

However, I must say my peace about Devon Aoki’s (2 Fast 2 Furious) character Miho … Oh Miho, Deadly Little Miho; “you're an angel, you're a saint, you're Mother Teresa, you're Elvis”. THIS, ladies and gentlemen is by far the most badass character to date, EVER. I don’t want to give too much away but you know that’s definitely true when this is the line right before Miho hit the screen:

" Oh sugar, you’ve just gone and done the dumbest thing in your whole life."

So, I'll leave you all to enjoy the splash of Red that is Rosario Dawson's Lip Stick. Ggrrrrr.


Bad to the bone




Note: I read some user review online where some girl was offended and thought this movie was “degrading to women”. You fucking fool! Watch the movie again.

Crabby and Pissed

I think I’m actually holding up pretty well considering I got about 3 hours of sleep in my fucking CAR!!! The fire alarm kept going off in the middle of the night (The one for the entire building – extremely fucking loud and annoying).

2:00 a.m. – The nightmare begins; this thing is going off like the shit is about to go down. Normally, with fire alarms, I wait a few minutes to see if it’ll stop before I start taking action to save my life. That wasn’t happening. This thing kept going on for 10 minutes before I said … Ok, I’ll get up and evacuate the building at 2 a.m. in the morning.

So I did. I go outside and there are only 2 other people out there. The ENTIRE building and there’s only 2 people out there (by the way, one of the 2 people was the “naughty, naughty neighbor”). First, I felt a great sense of fulfillment in watching Kevin realize that there are LOUDER and more annoying things than my ‘supposed’ catapult construction. Then I thought to myself, why isn’t anyone else out here – how ANYONE can sleep through that? I don’t know. Fools.

Then … After being informed that this is actually the second installment of “The Fire Alarm … of DEATH” (the first one came at about midnight) I started to wonder how I could have possibly slept through the first (and I presume equally debilitating to the ear) fire alarm. No Recollection. Nothing. Fool.

By this time, the other neighbor had called the 24-hour-property-emergency-people, and let them know what's up and that this isn’t cool. The lady, who answered after the first ring, thought it might help to tell him that it was due to a wiring issue, particularly with ANTS getting stuck inside the wiring. What the fuck? Where are we living? Downtown Amazon?

2:30 a.m. – After bonding over the misfortune of a looming eight-hour workday, The Alarm somehow stopped, and getting another 4 hours of sleep didn’t seem like that bad of a deal for me. So I trotted back upstairs, ears still ringing, and went back to bed.

3:15 a.m. – Wake-Up! and save your cochlea!!! The Third alarm goes off, and this is the mother of all Fire Alarms, Ever. I must have waited for 15 or 20 minutes for someone or something to suck the ANTS out of the wires but it wasn’t happening. In hindsight, I should have just bailed ship right then because my ears are still ringing as I write this.

After my 20-minute grace period, I put on some more public-appropriate night gear (you'll see why), took my pillows, my cover and stormed out of the building. There were no residents outside the building. Again, I now know, that they know better than to stand in the rain because of ANTS. Although, I think I would rather get wet and still keep my hearing ability, I can’t even describe how bad that sound was. Well, I get outside and there it was ... My 1996 Nissan-Sealy-Posturpedic-quasi-mattress-car-thing.

Eventually, I did set up shop in the Nissan. I Moved the front seats all the way to the dashboard, and then reclined the driver seat all the way to the backseat, which puts me in a diagonal position in the car (head on backseat, legs on driver seat) and gives me somewhere to put my legs!!!

My triumph of finding a good parking spot earlier that day came back to haunt me. My car was right in front of the building, so I could still sort of hear the bullshit, and if I tried hard, I could look up and see the emergency lights flash.

The mother of all alarms must have gone on for AT LEAST one hour, possibly more. No 24-hour-emergency-lady, or nothing could stop it … no one came out of the building, it was really quite something.

4:30 a.m. – After overcoming the background noise comparable to one to be heard at the end of days (and a slightly annoying rain splatter on my car) I slowly begin to fall asleep and then …

BANG!

Motherfucker is parallel parking his car in front of mine and gives my front bumper some serious heat. Not that I would normally care, that’s what bumpers are for, but the fact that I was in the car was what made it worse. Wait … no, actually it was the fact that he got out of the car, realized his car was glued to mine, got back in the car to remedy the situation and then …

BANG!

Backs up into my bumper AGAIN, and then slowly moved his car forward. I take solace in the fact that I scared the shit out of him when he saw me get up (Exorcist Style - One Motion) and just stare out of my windshield. I wonder what he was thinking - he'd probably write it off as a dream.

(Fire alarm is still going on at this time)

I think out of sheer despair, agony and hopelessness for my human condition, I eventually “fall asleep” and here I am. Well Ladies and Gentlemen, there it was, fresh in my sleepless mind: The Night from Hell.

Note: I can't believe this all happened to me in one night which ironically started out with both my internet and cell-phone not functioning (separate carriers for both).

The Perils of Vanity

Alright, so we’ve all done it: Google your own name and see how it’s goin’ down. Right? Please, don’t let me be the only person who’s ever done this (not that I mind being so narcissistic and self-indulgent). I think it's a pretty common thing this day and age. There's even a name for it? Self-Google?

But anyhow, I’m sure a lot of others’ experiences are not as traumatizing (?), Interesting, to say the least, as mine.

First of all, no wonder my phone is tapped and my mail has about 3 days delay on it (maybe more). The first thing that shows up is all these politicians. There’s another “Nafie Nafie” (this one’s actually Nafie A. Nafie). This other Mr. Nafie shows up as a “Chief of State” and is the minister of the Federal Rule in The Sudan. (I knew that though). The thing is he has no relation to my family and I. Not even remotely. That family is definitely bitin’ & crampin’ on the style, the hotness.

But this guy is probably some big wig for him to show up #1 on the Google search. So, I wouldn’t be surprised if the U.S. department-of- you-know-what thinks that this is all too coincidental. This helps explain why I always hear a click and conversations in the background when I answer my phone, or make a phone call. (it’s really hard to hear the Domino’s girl on the phone when I hear an entire office in the background – and no, It’s separate from the domino’s background noise, I’m pretty sure the office noises start a split-second before the Domino’s girl answers).

Then there’s the Doctor. Dr. Lawrence A. Nafie (not from The Sudan). Mr. L Nafie is apparently a DISTINGUISHED PROFESSOR of Chemistry and Biology, PHYSICAL, BIOPHYSICAL AND ANALYTICAL CHEMISTRY at Syracuse (?) and THE MAN to go to for anything related to the "Theory of Raman Spectroscopy". Ahem. Nice. NOW, the U.S. department-of-you-know-what thinks I might be related to a super-physicist-molecular-chemical-biophysical-stuff expert. Charming. Well, again, no relation. Dr. Nafie seems to be of Caucasian heritage, and bares a remarkable resemblance to Chuck Norris. (Nice!)

I think the third result is about an Iraqi contractor named Nafie who was the victim of a brutal and merciless beheading (R.I.P). Again, it’s a little discomforting these days to have the words “Iraq”, “Beheading” and “YOUR NAME” all be part of the same sentence. No? So, The U.S. department-of-you-know-what could easily mistake me for someone who’s either been a perpetrator or a victim of brutal human rights violations in the land of Saddam.

There’s also Mr. A. Nafie (Egypt) who is profiled as a “Clarity and Enigma”. I’m not quite sure what that means, but it sounds very religious. I think it’s something to do with journalism though (?). Whatever it is, THIS Mr. Nafie is photographed with super-political figures including (but not limited to) Hosni Mubarak, Robert Kennedy and Yasser Arafat. What does it all mean? Well, if I were the U.S. department-of-you-know-what, I would surely be suspicious of the fact that Mr. Nafie has had contact and is photographed with Yasser Arafat.

To Google’s credit, there’s a few “non-menacing” results show up. Case in point, interior decorator Coral Nafie. Bless her heart, Coral will tell you everything you need to know about “How to Choose the Right Paint Color.” There’s also a fascinating piece about “How to Make a Small Bathroom Seem Larger”, definitely a common “dilemma” for every American household. It’s a stretch, but Coral is probably an expert in building interiors and shit like that. I don’t know if that’s alarming enough to the U.S. department-of-you-know-what, but I highly doubt it.

So, I think the U.S. department-of-you-know-what should associate me with Coral Nafie and somehow UN-TAP my phone, and let me get my mail in normal time and circumstances. Eh? Sound good?

And what about Google Images? Well, this one is even more disturbing. First off, there’s a very strange looking cartoon/ caricature, which definitely seems to carry some heavy-ass subliminal undertones (possibly satanic, possibly political, possibly personal – I’m not quite sure).

There’s an ultra-sound image of a fetus, I’m not clear on the gender of the fetus; a picture of Dr. Nafie (definitely looks like Chuck Norris) and alas, a GREAT building: The Snøhetta Bibliotheca in Alexandria, Egypt (this one shows up in page 2) but man, what a cool building. I wonder why it shows up under Nafie.

What I would really like to know is where is the REAL Nafie in the middle of all this mess? I’m obviously not important enough to be on the top of the Google search results … Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, I think I have a new Life Goal: To be The Number One result showing up on Google. I don’t know, it sounds lame, but I think I have my work cut out for me. I’m an Industrial Designer and I have to somehow trump Doctors, Politicians, and god knows what else.

Nothing would curb my Attention-Hungry-Hyper-Ambitious Capricorn nature, like being #1 on Google. Mmmphhh -- I can just SMELL it. Shit.

(by the way, will my blog ever show up on Google?).

Note: I’m glad no-one in Hollywood (big or small) is a “Nafie” – How much would it suck for my life goal if my name was something like Tom Cruise?

It's this one thing...

”That got me trippin' Oooh, oooh aaahhh oooh”. “Something something”, “I'm hot as shit and I sing too fast ... Oooh, oooh, aaah Oooh.”

What a hot song, It's been a while since I've heard a bumper like this one. So does this mean GoGo is back? Maybe, who cares, but D.C.’s finest, Amerie, is looking fly as hell doing her GoGo thing in that video. I just wish I didn't have to Google this "1 Thing" to figure out what she's saying ... Maybe that's what I like, a song that makes me go and do some research afterwards – It was hard enough to find it in the first place and I had to buy it on iTunes (to ensure the mp3 quality, the others all sucked).

AND ... the REMIX ... well wait, there's already 3 (THREE!??!!) remixes for the song. But they’re all the same beat (?!?!!?), same singing, and just a different rap verse added after Amerie’s vocals on each one of the remixes [(Jay, Eve and Fox – respectively) (Thanks K.H. for the info)]. Wow - that’s weak, also, Didn’t Jay-Z already retire? What was that whole deal with the black album?

Can’t wait ‘til Missy and Tim get a hold of this one.

So if you ain’t figured out, this is the song I’m obsessed with for the time being. By “obsessed with”, I mean it’s bumpin’ on repeat 24/7. Until I get sick of it. My ‘obsessions’ can last anywhere from my ride to work to as long as the entire week. “1 Thing” has dethroned “Lovers Rock” It’s sort of old, but I had found this new appreciation for it… and now it’s lost again.

I’m falling a day behind on this shit, so I think this will be the post where I can catch-up. The intermediate and weak post that has to suffer the effects of falling a day behind – because I have to now go and try to find the video for my 24/7 viewing pleasure.

”Na-Na-Na-Na-Na … It’s this one thing; I want to admit it…”

Note: You notice how many times she tries to say “Na-Na-Na-fie”? Coincidence? I don’t think so.

My Neck, My Back...

Lick My CD-wrapping and my Track (???!!?) -- (Lame on me!)

I’ve been pondering this for a really long time – Basically whether or not I should treat myself to some Swedish Massage Action. I have never had a massage, but I hear it comes in high recommends. I don’t know the specifics either, but the Swedish one sounds fun (even though I don’t suppose this is the one that comes with the “happy ending” option – is that legal in the U.S.?). What about the deep-tissue shit? There’s also the Japanese/ alternative-lifestyle-because-I’m-non-mainstream Reiki stuff.

At times, I feel like I really need this, badly. Sometimes I’m really sore everywhere (My neck and My Back) and I think a good “Swedish Massage” would be the hotness. There are several reasons why I’m so hesitant about this (In the order of most to least worrying):

1) Is this going to hurt? I understand no pain, no gain … but this is not one of those things where the pain is going to surpass the gain – right? I don’t mind some mild pain, I wouldn’t even mind letting out a few manly “Ooohs or Aaahs” (see #4).

2) Is this something that is just going to knock me out cold for hours? I know it’s a stupid question, but it would be nice if I could get up afterwards and continue to live my life.

3) I’m paid … but I’m no trying to go broke anytime soon – will this be like hiring a lawyer and paying more than $200 per hour?!?! If that’s the rate, will I stop being billed when it’s over? Or will I continue to be billed even if I pass out for a few hours?

4) Is this a guy thing to do? How masculine is it to have a Swedish massage? Furthermore if this will indeed hurt to a sickening point, I could do without the embarrassment of my 12-year-old girly screams.

5) Is there the possibility of any irreversible side effect? (I like how this is the least of my worries). My hope is to do this and still avoid all slipped discs, a punctured pancreas, a torn kidney(s) and/or any alveolar dysfunctions. I happen to like all those body parts.

I think to combat all my worry and uncertainty I need to go somewhere REMOTE and have this done. No one can hear me scream, cost of living is cheap, so the service would be comparatively cheaper, and … if all else fails, no one ever has to know (unless I spill the beans during my always eventful sleep). So, I think I should go somewhere like Cheyenne, Wyoming. Fuck Yeah! Ain’t nobody going to be in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and I bet it would be cheap as shit, remote, and just all the fucking way out there. They would LOVE to have me out there AND also, they will not inadvertently rupture my pancreas.

However, this all brings up another worry.

Who exactly will be giving me this massage? Not that this is a lifetime commitment, but I am probably pickier than I realize when it comes to who’s puttin’ on the rubbin’. First off, I would hope it’s a female. It’s not that big of a deal, I’m secure enough with my nutbag (D&E shout-out)… But I would prefer a masseuse, she could stand and do the whole Lucy Liu thing. I definitely don’t want “Bubba” trying to stand on my back. Furthermore, is this going to be like a Cameron Diaz? Or a Camryn Manheim? Again, not that it matters, I’m not that superficial … just wonderin’, just curious.

Actually, I think the ideal person to do the job would be someone like Robin Givens. She’s so small and I bet could do wonders to my neck … and back. I think I should probably wait ‘til the next time Tyson’s in jail before I have any such fantasies. I don’t wanna be the reason why he goes there again. But she’s definitely someone who could stand, stomp and march on my vertebral range.

More on the topic at a later date.

Note: I'm also pretty sure this is done in the nude thing, right? Well, I should let all know that I have no problem with nudity, what-so-ever, just incase you ever wondered.

5 O'clock in the mornin'....

Watchu gonna do outside on the corner?

For a change, I got something to do ... so ... today's post will come later on tonight, or tomorrow.

Suggested Bathroom Reading

I came across an "interesting" bunch of facts, and wanted to comment. It is my reccomendation, that you hereby print this, and wait until you go to the bathroom (Number 2) and don't have anything to read, and enjoy! I have been so bored in the bathroom sometimes, that I've read the contents of my wallet, ID, Credit Cards, Blockbuster's terms and conditions, Shopper's grocery Bonus Card (a great read!). This would be perfect for that... I think this would elevate my popularity among the shitters.
(Thanks J.E. for providing the time-wasting facts)

1) One out of four Americans have appeared on TV
– Yes, it’s also quite easy to explain. Half of those people absolutely HATE Simon Cowell because he was too mean to them. All Californians have appeared on “Dr. 90210” … all the “southern” people were a part of “The Simple Life’s” first season. The Asians are all over Jeopardy everyday, Hispanics on “Pimp my Ride” and of course … the show “COPS” … who went Black, and never came back.

2) 61% of all hits on the Internet are on sex
– well considering 98% of the internet is “sex” I don’t think this figure includes all the “accidental” instances of porn … I personally have had porn “accidentally” just show up on my screen … so many times (I swear honey).

3) Everyday, 21 newborn babies will be given to the wrong parents
– First of all, how is this discovered? It’s gotta be the daytime talk shows that prove this. Although not intentionally; while in the process of trying to catch cheating spouses … between DNA and lie detectors … this fact somehow gets revealed. Seriously though, I know they take them to a room afterwards … but how about tagging them with a wristband as soon as they leave home base?

4) The average person laughs 13 times a day
–It's my goal to prove this at work today, I will make a ... Spreadsheet? with tally marks and ... and... wait, that's not gonna work. Does Laughing in my sleep count? I could swear I’ve had hysterical fits of laughter during my sleep.

5) The average size of the erect penis is 5.2 inches long
– Survey says: "I must have been conducted solely on Caucasian males." Ever hear of a racehorse called Rock Hard Ten? That’s right.

6) There is no such thing as an anti-wrinkle cream
– Obviously, the person behind this fact has never been exposed to the goodness that is L’Oreal Vive … smooth Moose… age-defying.... Conditioning Wonder Miracle… Goop … Stuff.

7) 96% of women in their life have faked an orgasm
– Bad, Bad Girls…. But ever since Wilt Chamberlain died in 1999, the game ain’t been the same son … it ain’t been the same. On the real, 96% of women don’t give it up, so who cares if they gotta fake it.

8) The world’s best-known word is ok
– Ok

9) Be nice to nerds, you might end up working for one
– I’d actually be more worried about getting SHOT by a nerd before I worry about reporting to one (they’re usually all nice and happy when they’re getting paid well). This bullying business, no wonder why so many kids just go ape shit.

10) Men with pierced ears are better prepared for marriage
– I’m at a loss for words on this one, and cannot think of anything editorial or witty to include. If I were pressured … I would say: Breakfast is very, very important.

11) Women blink twice as much as men
- Yes, Betty Boop is the one who taught them that shit. But I dare to defy this survey, Mai I introduce (inside joke for the folk who can catch it) the State’s exhibit number B … I.O.N. Who must not have been a part of that survey, and is blessed with a blinking rate of 12 blinks per second (but only under pressure/ hot seat conditions).

12) Males on average think about sex every seven seconds
– That’s approximately 8228 times in a 16-hour day of being awake (I used to be good at math, but now, I can just do simple pointless calculations). The reason why men think about sex so much? Refer back to Useless Fact #7.

13) 50% of people in the world have never received or made a telephone call
– China and India! Blame them.

14) In Minnesota there is a law against men having sex with living fish
– All species? "The Law" is just a big party pooper -- making so many things not fun and shit … what a waste of millions and millions of blowfish.


15) Danny Devito is taller than Dolly Parton
– Not when she’s lying down … baby, NOT when she’s lying down. How embarrassing would that be if Dolly Parton’s Tits (oops) were taller than you?

I apologize for not enriching your lives what-so-ever ... but ...Yes! It's Friday! ! !
(I'd never pull this shit on a Monday).


Note: in the twenty minutes it took me to write this post, I have thought about sex 171 times (I told you I could do simple, pointless calculations) Can I get some points for Multi-Tasking?