A Prelude to a Midlife Crisis

Undisclosed Desires

2012-01-29T10:59:00.004-05:00

I had started an entry that celebrated my newfound joy of surfin' the net while on the popper. Well, I finished my... wait for it... duties before I could finish the entry. Sitting on the bowl with some gunk in yo' butt wasn't the ideal circumstance to be in even when writing these fluffy entries, so I had to scrap it. Just know, I'm totally digging it. Also, if I'm trying to vidchat with you, chances are I'm waiting to release that first blast when you press 'accept.' And yes, I've gotten people and it's HILARIOUS.

So this entry is kind of a farewell.

My reckless abandon on life has been the bane and pleasure of my last two years. Having been in a bad place for most of 2010 and slowly recovering in 2011, I can say that 2012 is when I'm starting to collect all the pieces and putting them back together. I feel like I'm entering another phase in my life. I've discovered all my past blogs mark different phases of my life. GRANTED, I'm not saying that I'm suddenly this mature dude who feels like he should be wearing his big boy pants all the time (because, fuck those people) or does and say shit to feel like he's all grown up (because, fuck those people, too). I'd treat this new phase like the next rung on a Pokemon evolution ladder. It's like going from Charmeleon to Charizard. And Ash's Charizard was apathetic as shit.

Anyway, you might be protesting, saying, "BUT WHAT ABOUT YOUR TOP TEN LISTS?! WHAT OF THOSE?!"

I know I use to champion that stuff, but, honestly, the luster of making those lists are kind of slipping. They're fun to make and all, and while I try my best to choose the flicks that will LAST, sometimes I'll overlook or misjudge something. Like, Benjamin Button OVER Wall-E? Turrible. Stepbrothers not making that list? Wrong. Maybe a bit too much love for Letters to Iwo Jima and Little Miss SunShine. Also, Notes on a Scandal would've been much higher and FUCK, Hunger being totally ignored? TURRIBLE. My top three picks have held up for the past few years, though.

AND MUSIC. SHIT. Metric's Fantasies and Sarah Blasko's As Day Follows Night are two MASSIVE omissions from their respective years because it took me awhile to discover them.

So yea, FOR THE TIME BEING, there shall be no lists. I'm thinking more like, maybe in June of this year, I'll go back and make those lists. See which games, films, and movies truly do possess a resonating effect.

But there you have it. A change is coming and the next post shall mark it. Get ready, suckas!

A Change is Coming... A Sexy Change

2012-01-23T00:37:00.003-05:00

It's been awhile, hasn't it?

Oh, so what's been going on since my last post? Well, for one thing, that second installment of the San Francisco & San Jose trip will probably never happen. Long story extremely short: I ate some shit and it was delicious.

I really don't have anything to write about right now... I mean, I'm not trying to say that my life is exceptionally boring right now, but it's exceptionally boring right now. I try and fight the tide by doing completely irresponsible things (mostly the binge drinking, drunk adventuring, and strip clubs). It's starting to become an issue, though. When I show up to places and embark on adventures in my drunken stupor, I forget at least a third of what actually transpired.

Case in point, this past weekend, I engaged in rousing conversation with some promising youth from China. Well, you know what? While I remember the other participants in the conversation smiling, laughing, and looking genuinely interested, I can't say I remember even half of what was spewing from my mouth. I got the gist, I'm pretty sure I came off intelligent, but that shit is no longer in my brain.

The next morning I was super worried I made a buffoon of myself at the party, but the word is I conducted myself in a fantastic manner. HOW ABOUT THAT?!

Regardless, I'm going to have to put a hold on the drinking. Not so much because I want my liver to recover, but more so because I let myself go a bit and I need to restore myself into my old sexy status. SO, FOR THE TIME BEING, THE ONLY ADVENTURE I'LL BE GOING ON... is the adventure of getting back in beach-body shape.

And there you have it - the first post of 2k12.

I Use to Think Rose McGowan Was Hot??

2011-11-06T15:26:00.008-05:00

I know in the last post I had promised a sequel to the life-changing tale of my California Trip. Well, that didn't really pan out with the celerity I had hoped for (There's a good chunk of it written... just, too lazy to polish and finish it up). But whatever, it's not like anyone out there lost a nano-fraction of their lives stressin' about when the sequel to the smash-hit California Trip post would hit.

Instead, I want to talk about this growin' up business. I'm extremely aversive to anything that could be labeled as "growing up." That means a gamut of things. Whether it's not having saving account (true story; a high schooler from the office could not wrap her mind around a 26 year-old not having a savings account), habitually drinking on weekdays that aren't Friday (at the strip club, so, double whammy there), or carousing the Target toy aisle when it's not Christmas, I fucking do not want to mature.

But, alas, the great Charles Barkley was right in that no one escapes Father Time.

Recently I revisited two pinnacle films in my younger years. These were flicks I've seen MULTIPLE times. The two flicks were Scream (middle school obsession) and Fight Club (high school obsession).

Scream was the film that officially opened the doors to horror for me. It was the flick where I finally embraced the genre. Before, I would curiously watch them on cable TV and then proceed to shit myself for about two days. I would avoid the Horror section at Blockbuster like it was the Ark of the Covenant. Then Scream warped my sixth grade sensibilities and suddenly I was obsessed with horror.

Fight Club seriously punched my ninth-grade self in the face. Aside from the cinematic brilliance of Fincher's vision, the actors' performances, and the Dust Brother's score, the whole mantra of living counter to societal norms just warped my impressionable, idiotic, young mind.

In both cases, chaos and, I guess, anarchy were sweet hymns to my ears.

THIS YEAR, though!

Fight Club is still an amazing film. It's still in my top ten. The cinematic bravo holds up. However, watching it now, I just get super annoyed with Project Mayhem. Before I was all about the whole notion of space monkeys being shot into space. Now? I just think it's a big group of assholes. A group of dumb, retarded assholes. Nothing but a dumb cult sans the suicide punch.

For Scream, it was worse. Teenager's fucking up people's days or lives really irks me. The whole time I'm just like, "This cast of kids... just a bunch of dicks and cunts." Even Randy annoyed the shit out of me. But, it was still entertaining... so, you know, probably going to finally get around to watching Scream 4.

I didn't EXPECT to react this way to these films. But I guess no matter how hard you resist, your sensibilities will "mature" whether or not you want it to. But I take solace in the fact that, even though I'm turning into that guy who says "UH! KIDS THESE DAYS!" If a teenager ever decided to get ironically chummy with me, I would tackle him to the ground, get a hold of his arms and force himself to slap his own face. Fuck the high road!

SAN FRANCISCOJOSE TRIP 2K11: Part I

2011-08-25T20:22:00.021-04:00

This past week I had my first REAL vacation since Vegas of 2k9. I've had trips here and there since then, but I wouldn't go so far as to call them vacations. A weekend excursion doesn't count in my book! Anyway, I'm going to split up the posts about the trip into two or three entries... probably only two because I'm lazy and I also want to go play terebi games.

Precursor Tales
Alright, so while waiting for the plane to board, I engage in my favorite past time of people watching. I notice quite a bit of old Asians shuffling around the terminal. Ever since the 2011 Oscars let a dinosaur loose on stage (some refer to said dinosaur as Kirk Douglas), I've been weary about turning old. I'm not joking when I say I want to die before I get Kirk-Douglas-at-2k11-Oscars old. Yea, sure, he had a stroke, but I'm just saying, if a stroke hits me, it better kill me. No punch line. Being cereal here.

Anyway, so I see all these Old Asian dudes and I turn to my sister and say, "Man, I don't want to be an old Asian guy. They are super lame. They're either out of shape or too goddamn skinny. And the skinny ones look so brittle... like they'll fall over onto themselves at any minute. Bleh. I don't ever want to be an Old Asian guy."

The guy sitting next to me gets up and walks past me after I say all this. And OF COURSE it's an Old Asian guy.

I try to muffle some laughter, but it broke through my embarrassment. The whole time I'm hoping he's a FOB Old Asian and didn't understand a word I said. Well, when he came back to his seat, he picked up his stuff and moved to a different chair... soooo, I'm guessing there were feelings present and they were probably hurt. I mean, I felt AWFUL but... you know... I still don't want to turn into an Old Asian guy...

To close out this "chapter," something absolutely UNHEARD of happened on the flight. There was a totally babe-alicious, young, blue-eyed, blonde flight attendant on the Delta flight. Seriously, it was hitting the flight attendant jackpot. Don't believe me? Even my sister was taken back and commented on her hotness.

I didn't take a picture because I'm not a creeper, but whatever hot babe you're imagining, it was that... BUT HOTTER.

Poop Shy
Soooo, I found out I'm Poop Shy on this trip. Granted, I didn't NEED to poop in the days I spent at Samantha's apartment, but I was like, I SHOULD poop given that I was eating some pretty exquisite stuff.

Here's the thing, I didn't know how thin the walls were nor did I fully grasp what kind of a poop I was about to blow. Was it going to be those no hassle soft coil poops? Was it going to be those poops refusing to come out but finally does when you blow a MASSIVE fart? Was it going to be one of those merry melodies of a poo session where every strand is predicated by tuba-like blares? I didn't know! ANY of those situations would've been horrible! I'm not even going to get into the possibility of someone walking in RIGHT AFTER you finish.

Anyway, I woke up at 7 one morning and I figured if there was any time to do the deed, it would've been then. Everyone was sleeping and NO ONE would walk in right after me. Still, I had to be careful. I decided to let it rip AFTER flushing the toilet because the sound of water rushing through the pipes could mask any unwanted sounds. But that gave me a VERY small time frame so I ended up having to turn on the faucet sink. Well, it was all for nothing because I just couldn't poo. I gave up and went about my day.

Everyone ended up asking me what the hell I was doing in the bathroom at 7 because I was causing so much noise that I woke them all up. At the tail-end of the trip, I ended up unleashing numerous beasts... sometimes even twice a day. Even now, being back in Georgia, I'm still unleashing the monstrosities from this San FranciscoJose trip.

Did I buy a Cookie Monster toothbrush at CVS for this trip? Fuck yea. Why? Because I'm a fuckin' adult and I'll buy whatever I want! Was it a good decision? No. It was a horrible one. It did NOTHING for my teeth.
Bonus bathroom tale! I peed on my shirt by accident the first time I used Samantha's bathroom.

Self-Conscious Racists
San Francisco has quite of bit of crazy people peppered throughout its streets. In one of the nights out drinking, we passed by two very obvious skinheads. What gave them away? They both wore pseudo-punk shit with their heads shaved and arms tatted up as well as multiple piercings. Also, one of them doing the Hitler salute and spouting white supremacy shit rang some bells.

Here's the thing... while this one skinhead was unabashedly giving it his all with the Hitler salutes and marching, his racist buddy elbowed him and said, "Shut up, man!" as if it was embarrassing him. That's always nice - a self-conscious white supremacist. He sure hates other races that aren't white, but only in the privacy of his own home.

Unfiltered Peak Into the Secret Lives of Girls
Alright, so I had to crash in the living room. One of Samantha's roommates had a bedroom that's just part of the living room roped off by curtains. Well, this particular night, the roommate's cousin and her went out. I awoke to the cousin's drunken stupor and proceeded to feign slumber.

Basically, she was upset about a boy and reading out her texts to him and such and speaking her mind about the whole situation. Seeing the shit unfold on the OTHER side of the phone... well, girl's aren't complicated AT ALL.

Point of the story is, I was thinking it was at least 3 a.m. or something, judging from the level of drunkeness being displayed. Imagine my surprise when the phone read 12:45. This is because California's last call is at fucking 1:30 a.m. and most people seem to clear out by one-ish.

Just cramming in this pic of the GG Bridge to keep you word-phobic bitches pleased.
That is super fucking lame. Just sayin'.

Fuck You, Legs! No, Just Kidding. I Love You
The first thing that was planned on this trip was a bicycle tour that was suppose to span about three hours. I ended up biking about 22 miles in total. It was fucking awesome. I think me breaking off from the group at moving at my own pace contributed immensely to my enjoyment.

The people who do the program usually end up riding the ferry back to the other side once they cross the Golden Gate Bridge, but I biked back like a boss. There was this absurd uphill that was murdering my legs, but I was loving every second of it. Totally worth it, too, because I rode right past Bob Odenkirk. It was only for maybe a very brief second, but I used my eyes and said to him, "Sup, Bob Odenkirk! You're awesome! Ever think about another collaboration with David Cross? That'd be rad!" With his eyes, he responded, "No, fuck you. I'm with my kids."

At the shop where you rent the bikes, upon your return, they would enthusiastically cheer you on. Like, the whole shop erupted with joyous cheering when you turned in your bike. I know the effect was suppose to be something like, "Wow! You are SO awesome for completing the tour! You deserve all these verbal accolades!" But what it felt like was, "Holy shit! YOU SURVIVED? But you're just a novice biker! Seriously, we all thought you were going to die on this trip. But GOOD FOR YOU!"

I use to think long bike rides were more of a test of endurance for your testicles. Turns out, NOT THE CASE!

There was this cute Russian that looked like Milla Jovovich working here. Naturally, I got her number and we made love until the sun rose.
Last bit. I ended up riding WAY OFF course and found myself at the entrance to a highway so I had to turn back. At a crosswalk, the lights were being dumb and not giving me a chance to cross the street so I fuckin' booked it. When I reached the other side of the street, a car honked at me. I mean, I would've felt bad... but it was a ten-second delayed honk. If he honked the moment I crossed, sure. But after a ten-second delay? Nah, your right to honk at me is revoked.

I see the guy screaming and pointing his finger in a very angry way, pretty much saying, "WHAT THE FUCK! WHY'D YOU CROSS YOU FUCKING IDIOT?!" The only thing I could do, because of the ten-second delay (which negates his right to be angry), was to give him the "I don't know, I'm just THAT awesome"-Michael Jordan Shrug along with the trademark smirk. But yea, biking is rad!

This is from a bar that supposedly introduced Irish Coffee to the U.S.. I was sneezing a lot here because I'm allergic to bullshit. Solid Irish Coffee, though.
And with that last image that seemingly doesn't fit with anything on this post, I bid you adieu until Part Two!

Le Fabuleux Destin du JoE Shieh

2011-08-14T03:37:00.004-04:00

Why's it always seem like a fit of inspiration always strikes at ungodly hours of the night?

Look, the three years following my college graduation hasn't exactly gone as planned. Practically every pre-2008 post in this blog has me spouting my mantra of living life to satisfaction and extolling the virtues of being spontaneous. I'd rather be damned than work a nine to five and be a slave to the money!

Contrast that to now. I'm working a job that's an absolute bore and sparsely populated by idiots while densely packed with gerbils running the metaphorical wheels of life (me being one of the said gerbils). Although, I wouldn't say I'm a slave to the money. I spend money like it's just a piece of paper with arbitrary value on it. It's more or less my last act of defiance of falling in line with the rat race of life.

What the fuck happened to me?!

I guess it's that whole college mentality melting away. That youthful feeling of invincibility, where the future may be uncertain but it was certainly bright. Is there really an oppressive hand of society that smashes you into the ground as soon as you enter "the real world?"

The past year and a half I've been slowly disconnecting myself from past aspirations and aligning with realistic and rudimentary goals. Get more schooling. Get a good job. Meet a respectable woman somewhere down the road and get married and possibly have kids. Work until retirement and then enjoy life the best my old, withered, but still relatively healthy body can handle. There was a time where this path kind of abhorred me, but part of me wouldn't mind it.

Is this what "growing up" is?

I just finished watching Amelie for the first time in a long time, and the film spoke to me in a much different way than it did back in high school. Back in high school, I marveled at the expertise of Jeunet as a director. The absolutely breathtaking and mind-numbingly complex crane shots. The beautiful and subtle color distortion in practically every frame. The harmonious pairing of image and soundtrack. The imagination imbedded into every frame. Also, it was a cute love story.

While all these things still dazzle me, the one aspect that spoke the most to me this time was Amelie's struggle to relate to other people. Even though she displayed unmitigated humanitarian qualities, she still struggled with her own interpersonal relationships. An introvert that was capable of helping everyone around her, but yet, unable to help herself.

The human condition to want to find a true connection in life over all else overtook the cinematic bravado.

The past two years have culminated in a rather tumultuous last two weeks. Constant shifts in paradigms I've set for my life has sent violent quakes to my very core. For a guy who pretty much had his life goal set at the age of two or three, to become somewhat aimless was new and strange to me. I'd say I was ill-equip to handle it.

But, that's not to say I haven't been adjusting it. It's a multiple step process, but I've been removing unwanted forces out of my life. Whether that be body fat, obsessive ideas and disrupting compulsions, or undesirable people, I'm expelling all these things and just surrounding myself with the positive. It's time for a change and I'm almost there.

I know I've always said this blog was more for me than the readers, but I guess I've kind of let that fallen to the wayside. With the things swirling around my head lately, I haven't bothered committing some of it to this blog because of fear it would bore people. Nah, fuck that. This blog is for me and you're just along for the ride. It's my chronicle to my eventual mid-life crisis (because let's face it, I'll probably have one).

Let's just say this, in the process of finding myself again, this blog will probably become more entertaining. No longer will I let other people's judgments affect what I post. No longer will I put any weight into what other's could perceive of what's in this blog. Eff all that.

This is my declaration that I'm returning back to form! If I fail at that, then... I've got this post to embarrass my future self. But yea, there will be some BIG changes coming soon...

P.S. - I use 'du,' right??

Too Sleepy To Come Up With a Title For This Post

2011-08-03T00:08:00.004-04:00

Not that it's really a secret but I totally see a therapist.

Yea, it makes sense, right?

Well, today, my therapist brings up the subject of medication. From the get-go, I said NO to any sort of medication. I understand that as a doctor, you should offer the best course of action to help your patient. She says this but also adds, "It's also recommended in your case."

I just sit there like, "Damn, my OCD is THAT serious?"

I'm not going to expunge ALL the things I've told her, but I'll say this: what all of you see is just the tip of the iceberg. For those of you who think they've seen the worse of my OCD... trust me, you're getting the nice version.

Anyway, while the recommendation and warning were startling, I still declined medication. In fact, it kind of became a challenge. Can I drop some of this OCD stuff on my own? Am I able to fix my brain without the help of psychotropic drugs?

Who knows, but CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!

UWAAAAAA~

2011-07-31T23:49:00.010-04:00

FOOD CONFESSIONAL! So this past week I said to myself, "JoE! You've made such huge strides! Let's chill out this weekend and have maybe only ONE cheat day!" Because honestly, when I rub my stomach at random times during the day (out of habit), I'm completely taken back by how AWESOME it feels. I mean, if someone's washing machine broke, I'd rush into their laundry room and bust off my shirt with much gusto and exclaim, "IT'S OKAY! You can still wash your clothes!... with these abs." Maybe I'm slightly exaggerating, but only slightly.

Anyway, yea, I ended up cheating on Saturday and Sunday.

Usually when I have a cheat day, I don't start the cheating until 12 p.m.. So when it was 11:30 a.m., I busted out an episode of Game Center CX and just sprawled out on the couch. When I noticed that it was almost 12, I paused the show and just stared at the clock. As soon as the numbers said 12:00, I blasted up from the couch and ripped open the pre-bought snacks.

In the course of two hours, I devoured a WHOLE BAG of Baked Lays and Pretzel M&Ms. It was glorious.

I didn't eat out that day, but I ended up having an amazing steak dinner at home as well as devouring ANOTHER bag of baked chips from Trader Joe's with a one or two random snack bags of other baked chips. Then I had two bowls of cereal.

Pretty worthwhile cheat day if you ask me.

On Sunday afternoon, I got way too lazy to cook some protein, so I went to Ted's and got me a bison burger with a whole wheat bun and nothing but avocado, tomatoes, and onions in it. Instead of fries I got green beans. Everything was awesome except for the bison part. NEWS FLASH TO TED TURNER: BISON SUCKS.

Another aspect of Cheat Day that I LOVE is how awesome pooping is. During the week, when I'm eating crazy healthy, my poops are pretty boring. I mean, I GUESS it's a good thing the poo seems super healthy, but you know, sometimes you just want to sit down at a toilet and drop a huge, satisfying load. I did that on Saturday AND Sunday. One of them even clogged the toilet! That's braggable!

Anyway, so for the rest of Sunday, I had two glasses of scotch and a glass of bourbon (not a big fan of bourbon, I discovered). Then I ate some home-cooked meals with three bowls of cereal to cap it off. Oh, and I ate a ton of cookies from Ingles, like, probably ten between Saturday and Sunday.

A very satisfying cheat weekend! NOW IT'S BACK TO HEALTHY EATING AND WORKING OUT! Honestly, this balance is fantastic. They balance and compliment each other perfectly. I look forward on the weekends to eat healthy for the next five days and in those five days I look forward to eating what i please on the weekends. It's a cycle filled to the brim in awesome!

I'm still a little tipsy while typing this entry so we'll see whether or not I decide to delete this tomorrow morning! Until then, LATER, HATERS~~

You know, I ate the shit out of these back as a kid, but I couldn't really say that I really ENJOYED it... The Nintendo Cereal was better.

Ha.. Ha Ha... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

2011-07-25T00:02:00.017-04:00

So a few anniversaries have come and gone in the past few weeks. One of them is the five year anniversary of this blog. I WAS going to have a semi-blowout of entries to celebrate the momentous occasion, but then I was like, "Nah~" AWEEESSOMMMMEEE~ The other is that I have officially been living my new lifestyle for half a year. On January 22nd, 2011, I finally made the decision to put down the fork and stop being a fat fuck. Behold what I looked like without a shirt before:

Jesus, look at that. If we were stranded in the middle of Hoth, you could slit my stomach open and hide inside me for warmth.
Here's the kicker - when I looked like that, I thought I looked awesome. I've mentioned it before but I'm VERY serious when I say that in my mind I would think, "Who doesn't want a piece of THIS tofu?!" Granted, there were always insecurities, but there was also an unfounded sense of confidence. Whether or not the confidence was just masking my crippling low self-esteem is up for debate, but seriously, I was like, "I look goooooood."

The only time I felt fat and disgusting was when I would eat something bad. Like, I'm talking fast food bad. I know I've mentioned my fast food binges, but those never bothered me THAT much. The one thing I did do with fast food that just made me feel disgusting was when I go through the drive-thru and just scoff down the meal in the car. Feeling that layer of grease cake up on your face as you bite into some Chik-Fil-A waffle fries is sickening. As I'm taking the finishing bites of the meal, I could feel the seat belt choking my gut and man-bewbs. My slightly labored breathing from the alacrity that I devoured the meal was absolutely abhorrent. I'd take a deep, long breath after it all and paid no more attention to my increasing waist line until the next act of culinary depravity.

But for every moment that I felt fine, there was probably equal time spent mulling over my physical appearance. The weird thing is sometimes I'll feel like a total stud. But then those moments would be offset by not wanting to leave the house because I was just simply too fat to be seen in public. Honestly, I've skipped out on a TON of events because of this. And yet, during this phase, I still felt like a stud. Fucked up, right?

Alright, so before when I would see people take pics of their own shirtless bodies in front of a mirror, I'd think, "I will NEVER do that if I get into shape! EVER! That seems TOO self-indulgent!" Then I'd cram a handful of Oreos down my throat. Now, though, I can understand why one would TAKE the picture. It's a great way to gauge your progress. A self-checking system to see what you need to work on. Posting it for an audience to see, though? Definitely self-indulgent. A big "LOOK AT ME" gesture, so, LOOK AT ME:

AWWW YEAAAAA~
Excuse the self-indulging, but goddamn. I started going through the calender I used to mark my workout routine and the days I ate bad and I seriously cannot believe I've been at it for half a year. Granted, when I look in the mirror now, I only see problems that i need to address, such as blasting the last bit of my spare tire. Arms, chest, and abs could use more definition as well. Knowing that when I look into a mirror, I still see flaws let's me know that I'm not letting it all get to my head. I hesitated to post a self-taken photo, but I figure I get to revel in my progress at least once!

So where do I go from here? Well, I want to hit 165 before I switch to Maintenance Mode... and really, that's the HARDEST part about all this - keeping it off.

Yea, I Choked Up During That Snape Part

2011-07-13T23:47:00.013-04:00

That food poisoning from the last post turned into a nasty bout of the flu. Yea, I know, right in the middle of goddamn summer. I mean, it was 92 out and I was wearing some wool pants and a long-sleeved shirt while being wrapped in a winter blanket and STILL feeling cold, while at the same time, feeling COMPLETELY obliterated by the smoldering heat. Probably the two most complex sensations a human being could feel at the same time... second to hunger and horniness.

Now, usually I get pains all over my body. This time around, that unpleasantness was upped a few notches. It felt like someone was pelting me with apples for the majority of the day. It SUCKED. There was a point where I thought, "If I had a gun right now, I think I'd shoot myself."

Well, turns out the remedy was actually something as simple as peeing. The weird part was, it was the most painful pee I've EVER urinated. First of all, the thing was more yellow than a glass of lemonade with yellow food coloring mixed in. Never have I been able to describe a pee session as feeling like "I was pissing fireballs," but now I can. While it was an unwelcome sneak peak into being seventy years-old, it also completely quelled the body pains.

Anyway, two days later, I'm strapping on my running shoes and readying up for a run. I mean, I was still feeling a little sick, but there was no way I was going to go another day and NOT do anything physical. My mom and dad thought I shouldn't have gone out for the run because I needed another day for recovery. Honestly, I laid on the floor contemplating this very issue. But then I remembered Michael Jordan and his legendary flu (wait for it) in-FLU-enced (NICE!) Finals performance. Dude was feeling like shit but he still lead his team to a victory. WHAT'S MY EXCUSE?!

When I got back from my run and told my dad this, he just gawked at me and went, "Um, are you Michael Jordan?"

Most certainly not! But at the same time, Michael Jordan is only human, too. I'm pretty sure if I shot him and then slit my wrist when I realized I just murdered a living legend, we'd both bleed red. If he can do it, what's to say I can't achieve something similar but to a smaller degree?

Who Knew You Could Bottle the Scent... of Boner?

2011-07-11T08:40:00.008-04:00

Here I am again... not going into work because I have a stomach-related bug. Back in April I had an intense bout of food poisoning. This time, though, I think it's something more mild... but it still sucks a bag of old dicks. Your stomach is killing you, you feel like you could vomit at any time, and who knows when the dam that is your sphincter will succumb to the deluge of poo.

I had originally planned on updating this blog with my current weight situation. Spoiler alert: it's awesome. HOWEVER, this weekend I kind of let the ball drop in terms of eating healthy. I'd feel like a massive hypocrite if I start extolling the virtues of a healthy lifestyle when this weekend alone I consumed:

- Burger and fries from Ted's Montana Grill
- Shrimp, fries, and a baked potato from J. Alexander's
- A Caramel Cooler and two cookies from Caribou Coffee
- A pack of hot dogs (THE CULPRIT FOR MY CURRENT GASTRONOMICAL COMPLICATIONS!)
- Two Caprice Suns (Nostalgia! Damn you for making something not that awesome taste kind of awesome!)
- A good-ass ice cream popsicle
- Two Jimmy Dean croissantwhiches

I know. I'm ashamed. How can I talk about proper fitness and healthy eating when I just consumed all this trash?! My mentality was, "Oh, I'm starting a new routine this week. I've done pretty good for the past five months, I'm going to reward myself by not scrutinizing what I eat!" But now... damnit.

It's like, some people wake up with a bad hangover and become full of regret for whatever they did the night before. NOT ME! I wake up from a night of drunken debauchery the next day like, "Nice." Unless I fucked a fat chick while under the influence. In that case, I might kill myself. HAHAHAHA JUST KIDDING!!!... but not really.

Anyway, so now I'm feeling nauseous from some bad decisions I made last night. I gained about five pounds this weekend injecting all this trash food into my system... BUT! I'm experimenting with a new routine so at the end of this month, expect THREE MONTHS worth of updates! Or hell, I might devote a whole week to it seeing how I'm about to hit half-a-year with proper fitness and healthy eating.

So until then, later, haters~

These Thunderstorms Lately, M'Right?!

2011-06-19T08:54:00.012-04:00

I'm a pretty considerate guy. I'm completely capable of being a pompous asshole while also adept at being unequivocally generous and charitable. When I see a old lady at the crosswalk, I'll help her across the street. When I see a little girl's kitten up in a tree, I'll scale that tree and return the kitty the little girl's arms. When I see a fat person tumble down a flight of stairs, I'll point and laugh. I'm the apex of thoughtfulness.

But... there are times when I think to myself, "Um, is being thoughtful now a good thing or is it bad?" Allow me to cite two recent examples.

I was on my way to the bank to cash some paper into my checking account - because saving accounts are for old people and idiots. On my way out, I see a guy with arm braces. He mos def had scoliosis. He was getting out of his car and I held the door for him.

Now, he had to get his braces out so it took him a bit. At that point I think, "Maybe I should help him. Well, no, he gets out of car doors all the time." When he was out the car, he turned around and tried to shut the door. Then I went, "I'm going to help his close his door. But wait... he probably does THAT everyday. If I do that, would he look at me like I'm chastising him? Would he be more annoyed by the EXTRA courtesy given to him simply because of his condition, even though he's fully capable?!"

He walked past me with a smile and a thank-you.

I bump into this same guy months later at the gym. He actually asked me for some help with some dumbbell lifting. Even THEN, I was like, "Should I offer for him to call me whenever he needs help? NO! I wouldn't do that for a normal person... he'd probably think I was treating him like a baby!"

BUT WOULD HE?! I just thought about all the old people in my life and times where I'm like, "Let me get that for you!" And they retort, "FUCK NO, SONNY! I MAY BE OLD BUT I CAN CARRY A DAMN TRAY OF VEGETABLES!"

WHICH, brings me to my most recent, and probably the most damning, moment of extra stranger courtesy.

So yesterday, I was moseying around The Forum. There were these two girls in front of me - a fat short-haired brunette and a fit blonde chick with her hair tied in one of those hot bun-and-ponytail crosses. From the back, she was lookin' all fine. I'm a dude, so I was all, "I'm wearing sunglasses, I can totally check out that ass out without anyone noticing."

Guys do that, k? Ladies. K?

It was nice and all... but almost immediately I noticed something was awry...

There was a very noticeable blotch of red on her khaki pants. Either she sat in some strawberry jelly or the levees in her vag just gave out.

Immediately I'm like, "DO I TELL HER?!" I mean, if I farted in my pants while at the mall and didn't realize I had actually blasted some poo out, and was swaggering around, not knowing it looks like I just sat in some mud, I'd want someone to tell me!

I toyed with going up to her and delicately putting it. I'd be all like, "Excuse me, my lady. It appears you may have sat in some jam." She'd look at me with bewildered. I'd reply with a raised brow and then watch as she decodes the message from my brow-arch. Then, when she thanks me, I'd be all like, "You're lucky there weren't any bears around, otherwise, this would've gotten... bear-y messy." Then I'd hop on my unicorn that poops cupcakes and fly off towards a rainbow.

But none of that happened. I just let her continue about her day. I mean, I think they were walking toward their car... so, she could find out at the comfort of her own home... but... I don't know... would she have hated me for letting her know, or collapse at the stunning display of chivalry.

All I'm saying is, if it looks like I perioded in my pants, let a brotha know.

I was going to Photoshop the Hawaiian Punch guy in this pic, but I'm too lazy, so just use your imagination!

The White People Driving By Were Looking At Us Funny

2011-05-08T08:26:00.023-04:00

I don't know if you could call me a full-on sneakerhead, but I've definitely been VERY keen on shoes lately. Keen to the point where, if I had the financial muscle, I'd buy a pair of sneakers for every day of the week to match whatever it is I'm wearing.

Yea.

The flint that set the spark was the Hyperfuses covering Rondo's feet in last year's Playoffs. I ended up never getting them because I would've felt like a HUGE scrub getting basketball shoes and not being active. I mean, come on, that's like a guy who smokes extolling the virtues of living a healthy lifestyle. BUT NOW! DIFFERENT STORY! Now, looks AND utility would be the name of the game!

All this is just a preface to something I never thought I would've engaged in in a million years.

Yesterday, I lined up for sneakers.

Yea, that's right. I've lined up for the midnight launch of Starcraft 2 (kind of). I've lined up for the launch of the Playstation 3. I've lined up for the launch of the Wii. Final Fantasy XIII. Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots. Grand Theft Auto 4. Watchmen. And now, a shoe.

Hot.
Striking the Match
These things are CRAZY limited. On Friday night, I was perusing my blogs when one of them had a reminder that these were launching at midnight. For shits and gigs, I decided to see what places in Atlanta were having these babies for sale. I stumble onto Wish Atlanta and their blog and saw that they had people lining up for these TWO DAYS before launch.

"Nah, no way I'd be able to get these!" I smirked while partially inviting the prospect of waiting in line. "Or... would I?"

Remember how I told you I'm incapable of waking up super late these days? How I usually blast up from my bed in full clarity at eight a.m.? Well, I woke up at eight on Saturday was was flummoxed at what to do. The weather was beautiful outside! I couldn't justify staying indoors to play games. But what would I do outdoors? Nothing was opened yet!

The shoes...

Usually for a decision like this, I'd spend the next twenty minutes debating whether or not to do such an absurd thing. But for this? Got the thought and BOOM, I was out the door.

I arrived at 9 p.m. to this sight:

Immediately, I was like, "Phfbt, game over! But I AM already here... might as well... chill for three hours... maybe I'll be able to snag a pair, who knows!" So with my book equip on my iPhone, I went to brave the line.

When I actually got IN the line, I saw a small cluster of about four or five people passed out in their sleeping bags at the door. These were those hardcore motherfuckers who lived and ate sneakers. Not pictured here, but kind of pictured in the previous post is this hot Indian babe with an amazing ass. No, really, it was spectacular. It was the Mona Lisa of tight, awesome assess stuffed into tight, awesome jeans.

Another dude got to the line the same time I did. And of course, we both asked how many pairs the store was getting. Answer? Twenty-four. What number was I in line? About thirty. Now, at this point, a normal human being probably would've been like, "What? FUCK THIS NOISE! I'm going to go do something else more productive!" But, obviously, I'm no normal human being. I decided to plop my ass on that curb and spend the next three hours partaking in this queue while reading my book underneath the warm Spring sun and the cool gusts of wind. Needless to say, it was awesome.

Shoe Hustlin'
About an hour in, with more people piled up behind me, a car full of black dudes with dumb smiles on their face poured out of their car. There wasn't really a convenient crosswalk to trek from the parking lot to the store so there was a TON of jaywalking, much to the chagrin of the drivers. The startling fucks not given at crossing the street during a flurry of passing automobiles must be some genetic super power bred into black folks, because man, now matter how dangerous, they'll fucking cross a street.

So this small crew rolled up and the leader yells, "Yo, anybody need eights of thirteens?!" A few people's eyes light up.

"How much?"

"Four hundred dollars."

A collective release of moans and groans with "Maaaan, get the hell out of here with those prices!" were peppered throughout throughout the line. The dude assured the most vocal (and desperate) people in the back that they weren't going to be sold for any cheaper. He also reminded them of their bleak chances of scoring a pair while waiting in their spots in line. Hell, I KNEW I wasn't getting a pair, but the nine or ten people behind me were resilient.

Well, the guys decided to bring their loot to the line. If words weren't enough to make the sell, maybe seeing the actual product would change some minds.

These weren't the only shoe hustlers that showed up. Another slew of people came about an hour in and started peddling the shoes. At that point, the people in the back were willing to shell out the three hundred dollars for a pair. The oddest thing, though, was a few of the shoe hustlers were on their phones for almost an hour. When they finally got off, they came back in line and said, "Alright, I just locked up on a pair of nines and tens. Who wants 'em?"

Motherfuckers were like Wall Street brokers of shoes. What the hell did they say or do on that phone? You got forty or so people willing to line up for hours just for a pair of shoes, and you just make a few beep-bop-boops on your phone and BAM, you got two pairs? Needless to say, he sold them both.

The Big Moment
Twelve o'clock rolled around and a security cop (who had some nice kicks, by the way) worked his way to the front of the line and officially got the sales started.

Everybody packed themselves tightly into the walkway, as if the closer proximity to the front door would ensure them a pair. Also, excuse the shitty framing of this pic. I had to raise the camera above my head to take this blind shot.

Light jovial cheers followed the new proud owners of the Jordan 7s as they walked out. But those cheers were soon smashed down by each of their reports. As every new owner of the Year of the Rabbit Jordans walked out, they also told the line about the dwindling count. Probably seven people in, elevens and tens were completely sold out. All that was left was shoes for people with tiny baby feet or circus clown freak-of-nature feet. The initial count of twenty-four pairs probably didn't take into account the ones the workers kept for themselves. Out of the forty of so people that waited in line, probably only fifteen people were able to snag a pair. Ten minutes after the doors opened, BAM, sold out.

The Pedigree
I haven't been in many situations where the product I'm lining up for is so limited that just lining up didn't mean you'd get your loot. But the few that I have always bring out the worst in people. And usually, it's white people. When they announce the product was all gone, they'd stomp around and throw a hissy-fit.

"Why weren't more of the product stocked?!"

"Sorry, that's all we received."

"THIS ISN'T ANY WAY TO RUN A BUSINESS! THIS IS RIDICULOUS!"

These patrons would throw up their hands and storm off in their big-boy pants. They would always act as if they were entitled something in these situations. It always annoyed me. And it was always consistent. At these limited launch functions, whether it be a soccer mom or some balding old fart, there would always be a nagging, whining, and anger-fueled diatribe.

Only 10% of the line got the shoes, and when the announcement was made... it was strange. There weren't audible groans! Maybe a few smacks of the lip, but that was it! A few minutes later, I would stumble upon the guy who was two spots in front of me in a small crowd talking about the shoes.

"Man, why do they do this. Why do they make this shit so limited when all these people want it! Damn! But that's how it is. That's what makes these so special. It's alright, the new Wolf Greys are comin' out, and that shit's general release."

That was it. The worse of the "bitching" I heard. And I wouldn't even label it as so! The small family behind me were ALL smiles after, too. As I passed by the... I think... young grandmother holding her grandchild, she just smiles at me and goes, "Well, at least you got to read your book!"

Even before the announcement of it being sold out, the guy behind me was telling me he wanted a pair for his girl, who WASN'T a sneakerhead. He expected this pair to change all that. But then he added that if he couldn't snag a pair, well, so be it. This guy who just poured the prospect of turning his girl onto his passion with the purchase of these shoes just shrugged it off and strolled back to his car. No whining, no crying, just a shoulder shrug and continuing going on about his day.

It was beautiful.

I saw one guy who HAD to have the shoe. I bumped into him in the back parking lot as he made a transaction with one of the lucky few who snagged a pair. The cop indoors would later say that someone had bought a pair for SEVEN FUCKING HUNDRED right outside the store. I don't know if I believe that... seeing how ebay has them for about four hundred max. But then again, ebay doesn't really have size tens and elevens... so those coveted sizes might actually net that kind of dough.

Regardless, I walked up to the guy and asked if I could take a picture of his prize.

The packaging was hotter than the shoe.

The Aftermath
There it was. My first experience on lining up for a shoe. It sounds crazy, but at no point in this endeavor did I expect to cop a pair. It was a nice day outside and spending three hours in the warm sun was awesome. I mean, I would've felt like it was a waste of time if all I did was stand there and play around with my phone, but I got some shit done in line, so, when I got to my car, it was nothing but a positive experience for me.

So what exactly attracted me to these shoes? Maybe a small part was its exclusivity, but the majority of it was how damn fine the shoes were. In my extremely brief time of being a sneakerhead, the Jordan 5 line has become a favorite of mine. I'm planning to pick up a more accessible pair later on in the year. But these? Damn. The color scheme is just too hot. I'm usually more prone to the colors of blue, green, and yellow... but there was something about these that just grabbed my attention.

Then I realized what it was.

FAMICOM COLORS!!!
Yup, it all goes back to my gaming roots. I'm a big huge nerd who's just expanded his hobbies while letting the big huge nerd stuff leak in. And I'm totally okay with that! This positive experience has only left me with more fuel to pick up a pair of highly coveted shoes... and I think I already know which pair they'll be...

The Sequel Teaser!
I DID end up getting shoes yesterday! Granted, they were running shoes, but they are ALSO hot as shit. But that, my friends, is a story for another entry!

PHASE TWO!

2011-05-01T03:05:00.021-04:00

I think I had said that at the end of every month, I would have an entry regarding my weight-loss progress. Well, I missed March on account of my laziness, so today, I'm going to MASH March and April together!

Alright, so, it wasn't until sometime in late April that I finally realized that I WAS fat a few months ago. I mean, I knew I wasn't skinny or anything, but a few months back, I thought I looked pretty good. I'd catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and think, "Man, I look good! Why should this hunk of sexy bother with losing any weight? In fact, I'm looking SO good, I'm going to reward myself with a burger and fries with some extra mayo!" Seriously, I muttered that shit to my reflection looking like this:

Me. Mid December. At a buffet. Feeling studly.
It was like I was constantly drunk and decked out in beer goggles. I can't help but look at myself four months ago and be completely disgusted. There's still a lot of work to be done to get this body chiseled to my personal perfection. However, I can't deny the results thus far has been favorable:

Yes, my progress IS like a shark and a gorilla high-fiving with an explosion behind them.
AND I plan on losing more! I'm about ten to fifteen pounds away from my goal weight. Then we'll see where to take it from there. Anyway, closing this entry out with March and April's calendars.

On side note: because of the food poisoning, my diet's been thrown off whack this past week. Partially because I shit out EVERYTHING I had in my system on Monday, I decided to make the last week in April a modest week-long cheat day. Because if I want to hit one of my marks in May... I'm going to have to level up my game... and in the month of May... THERE WILL BE NO CHEAT DAY. The only two days I'm allowed to indulge in food is my dad's birthday celebration and wherever my brother wants to eat for his graduation. Aside from those two days? Straight healthy eating. This shit just got even more realer.

OH OH OH OH OH OH OHHHHH~ WHOA OH OH OH OH OH OHHHHH~

2011-04-24T07:59:00.012-04:00

It's Sunday and I'm up before eight o'clock.

On my own.

Like any "normal" human being, the weekend use to equal "I CAN SLEEP UNTIL FOUR P.M. AND I NOT FEEL AN OUNCE OF GUILT!" Wait wait, I didn't mean I use to feel that way, I still do. If I woke up and saw that the sun was already dipping to the west, I'd put on a pair of sunglasses, cross my arms, and say, "Fuck yea," while still tucked underneath my sheets.

But for the past two weekends, I've been waking up at seven or eight! You can chock it up to my new healthy lifestyle, my body adjusting hard to the every day nine to five grind, or that I'm going to bed at twelve the night before... but I'm going to say it's because I just get so fucking excited about the weekends.

Remember when you were a kid, like, elementary school, you would HATE waking up so damn early Monday through Friday for school, but when the weekends rolled around, you're up at the ass-crack of dawn, chugging down on some too-sweet-to-be-part-of-a-balanced-breakfast cereal while lulz-ing to Saturday Morning Cartoons? Yea. I'm totally doing that now. I hop out of bed, chug down on some extremely healthy bran cereal with two eggs and get straight to some quality gaming. It's like, while I'm sleeping, my brain thinks it's Christmas morning every weekend. IT'S AWESOME!

I mean, I kind of deviated from the typical early weekend morning to write an entry in this blog because, shit, I've been neglecting this baby for awhile. But, like Robin Williams in Hook, I'm too busy to care about my kids (this blog) at first, but after an hour or so I turn around and accept the fact I'm Peter Pan, kill Hook, and then embrace my kids (this blog) again. But only after Hook kills Rufio.

The BEST orange cat from Saturday mornings.

You Don't Gotta Tell Me, Brah

2011-04-06T00:05:00.005-04:00

I think I've touched on this entry's subject every now and then in the past. The thing is, back when I would casually mention it or drop a few paragraphs about it... well, I didn't think it was anything TOO out of the ordinary. But in retrospect... it's absolutely vile, disgusting, nauseating, and horrifying.

I'm ashamed of my past gorging habits.

Oh, that's right. Gorging. Not over-eating. Gorging. True story, I've actually went to the ER for intense stomach pains as a result of heavy gorging when I was in about 4th or 5th grade in Taipei.

Also true: I blasted Jesus for inflicting an intense bout of gastronomical pains on me when I was in 1st or 2nd grade in the middle of the night.

Extra info: Because I went to a Christian preschool, I was taught that Jesus was pretty much responsible for everything in the world. So my adorable 1st or 2nd grade self saw fit that the only culprit for my ire was Jesus. I remember sitting on the toilet, on the verge of tears, as I moaned in agony while screaming, "WHY, JESUS? WHY!" My parents were cracking up. I can look back now and laugh at the absurdity of it all, but at the time, I didn't see how my life-threatening tummy aches were funny at all.

Okay, chock it up to my bizarre OCD or mental hiccups, but I always felt like if I'm going to go on a health kick, it should be predicated by a final grand meal. Not an AWESOME final grand meal populated by high-class cuisine. No. I'm talking Mickey Dee's.

The problem with these last hurrahs is... well, if I didn't start the health kick... it was an open invitation to ANOTHER last hurrah of feasting. So what should've been one final meal turned into Tuesday and Thursday's dinner.

Allow me to list what this Last Hurrah Meal consisted of:

- A Big Mac
- Super-sized Fries
- Super-sized Lemonade
- McChicken Sandwich
- Double Cheeseburger
- (Optional) A Six-Piece Chicken McNugget
- A Hamburger Happy Meal with Lemonade

"... How?"
The Happy Meal ALWAYS capped it off. It would take me maybe an hour and a half to devour all this, but devour it I did. By the end of this 10k of revolting revelry, I could feel my body crying at the trash I just consumed. There was no satisfaction to be had at the end. But I mean, there wasn't remorse either. Oddly enough, it was a glimmer of hope that tomorrow would be the first day of me getting fit!

And that usually didn't happen.

I mean, now I'm on the right track, but thinking back to those days... I just want to go to the corner, curl up in a ball, and gently rock myself back and forth and cry. This is only the McDonald's gorging, too. I once ate a whole pizza, a Philly cheesesteak, and a side of fries in one sitting. Yea. I know. Also, I'm pretty sure on more than one occasion, I've mixed up items from Taco Bell, Burger King, and McDonald to create the perfect storm of trash food.

I'm completely baffled by my blase attitude about it at the time. I never thought twice about it. Now, though... nothing but shame. NEVER AGAIN! NEVER. AGAIN.

Chow. Yum. Fat!

2011-03-28T22:13:00.008-04:00

There's been a subsidiary blog some of you might've known about that chronicled my weight loss progress. Well, actually, there were two. Initially I felt like I shouldn't clutter this blog with a bunch of boring entires about my epic battle with my own obesity. Turns out I don't really have THAT much to say about it to warrant its own blog. SO! THUS! Expect entries devoted to my tango with my weight to once again infiltrate the annals of this blog!

The 22nd of last week marked two months of going on my health kick. As I displayed in the other blog, I've been chronicling my progress by writing down what I do on a daily basis. Behold:

As you can see, it took me awhile to get started in January.
Any day you see marked 'scotch,' it means I went to a strip club. And drank scotch. But more on that in a future post!
I adjusted the shit out of my diet, too. Before, I was a big believer in burning more calories than you take in. I mean, if you burn more than you intake... OF COURSE you'll lose weight, right? I use to run my ass off, but that mentality also let me justify skipping meals. So when I fell off that wagon... well, the weight was quick to come back. I went from Jackie Chan to Sammo Hung in record time. After doing some research and consulting, yea, you can eat like a normal person and still lose a ton of weight.

I'm using 'normal' VERY leniently. Observe:

Monday dinner! Not pictured: half a piece of toast.
Tuesday dinner with the other half of the toast! That's my little brother's Arby's... not mine... that shit's off-limits.
Two servings of vegetables. A source of protein (fish or chicken). Capped with a side of carbs (whole grain pasta, brown rice, or whole grain bread). The wild thing about it is I think it's DELICIOUS.

So two months... I've actually lost over twenty pounds. My stomach feels smaller. My boxers that didn't really fit me before REALLY don't fit me now. Wiping my ass is an easier affair because of the decrease in circumference. I can't hide remote controls under my pockets of fat anymore. My penis looks bigger (Unexpected treat!). AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, I feel healthier.

From now on, at the end of every month, I shall devote an entry or two to my progress. In the past, all the weight loss was temporary. I'd always balloon up again. So what we gonna have this time? Dessert? OR DISASTER???!!!

Remake Level 2 from 'Contra' In 3D! But Just Level 2!

2011-03-27T20:34:00.007-04:00

Ahhh, it's that magical time again. That time when massive amounts of potential is imbued into one tech product. A digital source that will hopefully be continuously mined to provide new, entertaining, and memorable experiences for years to come. I'm, of course, talking about the launch of Nintendo's 3DS.

It's been awhile since we've had a new console launch. The last one was, hell, the Playstation 3. That was years ago! And honestly, up until yesterday, I didn't think I was going to pick the 3DS up. Of course, this was precluded by an internal struggle of whether or not to buy the system. As of late last night, my fickleness SEEMED to have given into the Just-Wait Camp. Well, I woke up this morning and decided that I needed a 3DS. And a 3DS I was to have!

SHUH-BAM!
To the uninitiated; yes, it's very gay that I bought 'Nintendogs & Cats.' Even to the gaming geeks. But to my defense, I might not even open it. I was drunk off the enchanting fervor of a new system launch and decided I must have it. However, part of me does want to open it up and fake pet and fake dogs and throw some fake frisbees at them. Hmmm...

Anyway, there might be a more comprehensive post with impressions and reviews, but I wouldn't hold my breath for it. I don't care. I do what I want. It's my hot body!

I Became More of a Man Today!

2011-03-24T23:41:00.008-04:00

I'm just going to break the ice!

Since I felt like my latest entry should be epic in scope, every post I've written has been met with discouragement. That discouragement lead to me neglecting this blog and terminating the subpar entries, BUT NO MORE! Plus, I don't really have an audience anymore, so really, I can write in this thing like it's my private diary!

Anyway, so today I'm washing the dishes. The act alone wasn't out of the ordinary since I find washing dishes somewhat therapeutic. My brother has this Coca-Cola glass that my sister purchased from McDonald's laying in the sink. The thing's probably been in his room for roughly a week and a half. That's not so bad... but the beverage that was consumed last in this glass goblet (it's not a goblet at all, but I love alliteration!) was a strawberry blend-shake-smoothie thing my mom made. After about a week, seriously, it looked like the inside was growing glass herpes.

I thought nothing of it and started washing. It doesn't actually require any sort of hard scrubbing so I was pretty pumped about that. Well, it LOOKED like the glass was clean, but on the very bottom of it were a few specs. I'll be damned if I was going to let that shit ride. So as I'm about to dip into the bottom of the glass to wipe the last bit... the glass snaps.

This was as my hand was in a downward motion, so when it snapped, my hand did a slight punch. My immediate response was, "Well, damn. There goes another drinking utensil. Good thing I'm not hurting TOO bad, though!"

Then I actually looked down at the damage. A pool of blood started rushing from my finger. I'm not one to be freaked from the sight of blood... but the amount flooding out was telling me that this wasn't some simple skin abrasion.

I put my hand under the sink to wash away the blood and there it was... the gash. Along my right hand's ring-finger was this decently long open cut. As I slightly bent my finger, the wound opened up, revealing the deep crevice of exposed flesh that summoned even more blood to gush out. I'm telling you, it looked like someone had sliced open a raw fish. It was DISGUSTING.

I started to freak out. Not so much because I suspected a mortal wound, but the prospect of having a weird scar totally bummed me out. That freak out turned into anger as I realized this would probably put a damper to my workout routine (one that I've kept up with for two months! TWO MONTHS!). The wound was such that anytime there was even a slight bend, the opposite ends of the fissure would tear itself apart from each other. I mean, the bonus is that tomorrow is Friday and the Friday routine might be a bit more forgiving to the mini-injury. BUT STILL!

Moral of the story is: FUCK YOU, MCDONALD'S! I'm NEVER going back to eat at your shitty-glass-quality-selling establishment ever again! I mean, barring your locations in Taiwan... but in America?! You can go FUCK yourself! Except for Grimace. Grimace is still okay in my book.

EDIT: I just tried to Google image search Grimace... and there's a lot of weird fucking pictures. So... fuck you, too, Grimace! Instead, here's another pic of Allison Brie.

Small Nipples

2011-03-01T23:13:00.009-05:00

There's been a FURY of ideas that I've wanted to word-barf all over this blog, but because I never got around to my Top Ten Flicks list for 2010, I kept putting it off. Well, now that I've blessed the world with my triumvirate of lists, I think it's time to return to form on this ye old blog of mine. Too bad I don't remember any of the things I wanted to write about... so instead... I'M GOING TO BLOG ABOUT LADY GAGA!

Ha, not. I just wrote three paragraphs about how I now find it extremely annoying when she talks. The prologue of her awesome new video and her acceptance speeches are just pushing me over the edge. BUT I DECIDED AGAINST IT! Instead, I'm just going to post this picture and promise a more fulfilling post next time. LATES~

HOOOOOTTTT

Top Ten Films of 2k10!

2011-02-21T02:41:00.015-05:00

And so the final list is here!

Now hear me out before you go makin' like Judy and go judgin'. It's been over a decade since the series debuted with its brand of debauchery that, in our current "shock" climate, seem absolutely tame. These guys have destroyed their bodies and massacred their family surnames TOGETHER for over ten years. Sure, on the surface, it's a film that shouldn't have any redeeming qualities, but beneath that superficial layer is a chronicle of this group's appreciation and love for each other. The end credits play clips of how each of the members entered this demented troupe and why they all gel so well together. Touching stuff, really. Also, I'll never get tired of potty humor.

Oh, David Fincher... how you divide my heart. For many years, you were my favorite director. And while The Social Network was a hell of a movie, it's so distinctly different from your other films... the films I fell in love with. Sure, your anal attention to lighting highlights the film's style and your love of subtle, but mind-blowing, CGI was present... but I don't know... I miss the David Fincher that was drawn to the dark side of humanity. No, being a super asshole isn't the darkness I'm talking about. I'm talking about Zodiac darkness. Alas, I'm thrilled you seem to be a lock for Best Director this year... but perhaps someday you can return to your roots, for old times sake?

Look, I like this flick, k? It was funny and had sweet action scenes. It also has Nicolas Motherfuckin' Cage. 'Nuff said.

Sure, I can nitpick about the ending. How it's kind of ridiculous that Ben Affleck's character gets a get-out-of-jail free card, but it's not enough to offset this stellar sophmore performance. Also, who would've thought that out of this amazing ensemble cast that Blake Lively would be the scene-stealer?

Pretentious to the bone. Honestly, for at least half of the film, I wanted to waive it off as snobby garbage. But after all was said and done, through all the depictions of the mundane of real-life, the bond and love between father and daughter is beautifully caught on celluloid. It captures the essence of what it is to have so much love invested in another human being. I mean, it's no Lost in Translation, but still intoxicating none-the-less.

BWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNN. I could talk about how this movie injected a shot of renewed passion for cinema into my veins. I could talk about the fantastic theory of how this film depicts the film-making process and how it's closer to 8 1/2 than Dark City. But I won't. I'm just going to say Joseph Gordin-Levitt. M'right?!

It took me a bit to warm up to the film. I mean, I kind of expected a creature flick. I'm sorry if my awesome mind imagined that she WAS turning into a giant black swan and the film was going to show her descent into creature madness. I'm talking Jeff Goldblum in The Fly, but with Natalie Portman and a black swan. Instead, it was a tale of a young woman's spiral into madness. Absolutely horrific. The pressure and insecurities that lead to paranoia and delusions and how it can deconstruct a fragile woman. Phfbt, this is why women can't be president, M'RIGHT?!

I won't deny it, nostalgia is probably 80% why this film is rated so high. But taking it on its own merits, I got to say, it's a fantastic ride. A sequel only by name and concept, Tron: Legacy builds upon the foundation of the first while also establishing an identity completely of its own. I mean, it's a bit disheartening to see Tron out of his famous suit... but that shit would've looked ridiculous clashed against the slick style of the new film. Also, Olivia Wilde. M'right?!

I'm seriously debating whether or not I should start talking about how the Toy Story Trilogy is an allegory for life and death. How it's about coping with the inevitable while also taking pleasure in the present. And how it masks such heavy issues with the decor of a delightful kid's movie. By voicing my inner monologue, I have just invited you all to think about these flicks in a different light. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED! The only thing I have to say is, if you're over the age of twenty, and you didn't cry when all the toys realized the end was near and they all silently hold each other's hands... then you're a goddamn robot! Or when Andy gave up the toys, YOU ROBOT!

I didn't even have to think about it. Scott Pilgrim vs. The World was my favorite film of the year. Look, fuck you. I'm proud to be part of geek culture. Sure, some fucktards will use it as a metaphorical goldmine to get material to knock on me for. And honestly, I don't mind it. People are missing out on some of the best stories and experiences that modern storytelling has to offer. Their loss, not mine. But that culture has never been properly depicted in a movie, let alone the media. Edgar Wright sought to right the wrong and he delievered in spades. Every scene, every piece of dialogue, every musical cue just oozes with love and passion.

Also, it's pretty awesome he bases logic off of gaming "physics." OF COURSE people explode into coins after you beat them. OF COURSE people start flashing red when they're close to death. Also, the soundtrack is absolutely pants-wetting. Yes, I could go on and on and on about the film, but it's the last entry for last year and it's also three in the motherfuckin' a.m., so, I'll just say this: GO BUY THIS MOVIE.

Shieh, out.

Top Ten Games of 2k10!

2011-01-10T11:03:00.020-05:00

YEA, MOTHERFUCKA, WE ROLLIN'!

What this game lacks in gameplay it makes up for in heart, and surprisingly, the story. It took me awhile to warm up to it, but man, I'm glad I did. The gameplay is a love letter to the survival horror games of the PS1 yesteryear, right down to the tank controls. And the story, filled with entertaining characters, was a delight. But, the gut-punch of an ending crushed me. It made me realize just how invested I was with the cast. I'd love to say more, but it's better to go into this game with a blank slate and be pleasantly surprised. Also, the soundtrack is AWESOME.

Hey, Assholes who complain that games aren't scary anymore, way to ignore what you were asking for. This little commercial failure provided some of the most potent moments of dread I've experienced since the Fatal Frame days. The story is expertly paced and it boasts a pretty awesome Stephen King-esque story. Too bad a game like this probably won't show up for awhile because you complainy-faces didn't give it some love, so now the developers and publishers won't give it a chance. Congratulations, you bastards.

I'm so glad Retro Studios decided to drop Dixie Kong and that stupid baby character in favor of the Big Two. Donkey and Diddy are finally back in one of the goddamn hardest games I've ever played. Seriously, I walk up to a 1-Up Balloon with trepidation because it usually mean I'm going to die in the next few seconds. It's nice of the designers to decided to give the player a freebie, but it comes at the expense of crushing your gaming confidence. Infuriating as it is fun, Donkey Kong Country Returns marks the true return of The King.

Absolute bliss. As of now, this game is the apex of the Beat 'Em Up genre. The Japanese is still unrivaled when it comes to this stuff. While the gameplay is frantic, you never feel like you're not in control. The chaos is contained by your unbridled skills in ass-kickery.

Yea, I know. I'm kind of surprised Starcraft 2 was ranked so low on my list, too. While SC2 has fantastic gameplay, the story is absolute shit. Not wanting to spoil anything, but the narrative was sloppy and the revelations were extremely lame. They got two more expansions to fix it. I got faith in you, Blizzard. So yea, the RTS elements were amazing enough to make up for the shittiness of Raynor's saga.

Where the hell is the love for this game? Taking everything from the first and improving it tenfold, Dead Rising 2 is the closest I've ever gotten to tasting zombie-apocalypse heaven. The refined mission structure and improved A.I. for escorting paired with the introduction of combo cards? Definitely a contender for Game of the Year. But...

... masterpieces like this came out. Platforming perfection. Never once during this game was my face without a smile. Nintendo's a goddamn happy factory.

I honestly believed this was just a quick cash-in from Ubisoft. A nice little expansion to my 2009 Game of the Year. Imagine my surprise when it was a beefy update! Start your own brotherhood of assassins! VR Missions for Ezio! Superb multiplayer! A continuation of an awesome story! Improved combat! Seriously, Assassin's Creed 3 has a hell of an act to follow.

It's like the universe heard my cries for an old west sandbox game and decided to bless me with a gift from the heavens. I cannot rave enough about this game. Aside from getting me to partake in digital hunting and gathering (seriously, Rockstar got me to ENJOY collecting flowers and hunting rabbits! Bravo!), Red Dead Redemption impressed my pants right off and proceeded to give me the best metaphorical jand job of my life. Again, I'd love to say more, but you need to experience John Marston's story for yourself.

Seriously, the last three entries on this list could've easily been Game of the Year. But, the continuation of Commander Shepard's epic space saga trumps them all. From the opening moments of the game to the final bullet shot... no question, Game of the Year. Putting an overarching story in the backseat, this installment focused on characters. By putting together a crew to take on the suicide mission, you start to develop unique relationship with every member. The game invites multiple playthroughs, with each run providing its own unique narrative. I could devote PAPERS to this series! All I'm saying is, I'm fine with the world ending... as long as I've beaten ME3 before then.

Top Ten Albums 2k10!

2011-01-07T22:02:00.035-05:00

The beginning of a new year... that could only mean one thing... LISTS!!! Let's cut the bullshit and get RIGHT into it! Oh, and these are NOT ranked in order.

I don't think I've ever worn out a soundtrack PRIOR to seeing the actual film, but for Daft Punk? I'll do anything. I'd say the announcement of Daft Punk scoring the film was a bigger deal than the announcement of the film itself being made! Yea, sure, everyone was kind of lamenting the fact that this wasn't "typical" Daft Punk. In lieu of the techno-dance beats, we've got sweeping orchestral ballads mixed with a pinch of gothic tech beeps-and-boops. Considering the material of the movie, I'd say it was wildly appropriate. Hands down, best film soundtrack of the year. Shit makes me want to get a bike and do flips with a frisbee and shit.

My guilty pleasure album of the year. For awhile, Rihanna's Loud was going to take this spot, but honestly, aside from the two main tracks... the rest of the album kind of sucks. I was pretty lukewarm to Far East Movement at first, but then their infectious jams just won me over. An absolutely mindless but entrancing club-beats album.

I could've sworn Damon Albarn said Demon Days was suppose to be Gorillaz's last studio album. Thank god it wasn't. While Demon Days had an underlying theme tying all the musical bits together, Plastic Beach is a musical journey from beginning to end. The album starts with a more fun-loving, upbeat, popping lyrical flow that takes a slight turn for the macabre with a few tunes that are bit heavier in bass before finally clearing the way for the laid-back jams that close out the album. Seriously, a musical journey from finding and pursuing the Plastic Beach before finally reaching it and just letting everything wash over you.

There's no ranking for this list, because, shit, depending on my mood, I'll pop a different tune. But, this album is my top album of the year. Absolutely NO contest. It is a goddamn masterpiece. Remember after the "Taylor Swift fiasco" and how everyone crossed their arms and shook their heads at Kanye? Well, Kanye seemed to respond like the little boy who just got scolded. Dude kind of disappeared from the limelight for a bit, presumably to meditate on who he was and how he had, supposedly, wrecked his career and storming the stage of some white chick who sings shit live at the MTV video awards. Yea... read that previous sentence again.

TWO PARAGRAPHING THIS MUTHAFUCKA COS THE ALBUM IS THAT GOOD! So anyway, some people might've gotten the inkling that Kanye was about to mature a bit more. Not be so outlandish and narcissistic, ya know? Yea right. Power came out and it was a freight train smashing into your face. A giant fuck-you to everyone who thought he was going to change because of some idiotic "incident." When the album hit, BAM. A mad genius' mind has been laid out for the world to hear... and by god, it's glorious.

A bunch of indie kids from New Zealand got together and made some sweet, sweet music. The album oscillates between a wet dream and haunting melancholy. All I got to say about it really. Just listen to the album. You'll get it.

I'm not even going to pretend I understand soul music. Motown might be my only exposure to it. But I'll be goddamned if the collaboration between John Legend and The Roots doesn't put some good vibes with me. I mean, some of the tunes get a bit preachy at times, but that's not enough to hinder my enjoyment. All I know is whenever I pop this album, I start moving and grooving my body like an idiot in the car.

Not that this album is particularly excellent, but what it stands for as a product is intriguing to me. So Uffie hit the scene a couple of years back by accident with Pop the Glock. Chick was just a teenager then. The song blew up and all eyes shifted to her. The sudden fame didn't phase her at all. She both embraced it and made fun of it. Fame came to her so easy and her talents weren't even particularly that extraordinary and she knew it. Well, after a few years, her first album finally hit and it's a compilation of her older tracks and new stuff. The contrast between the cocky, devil-may-care stuff from her earlier days clash with the more mature tunes from growing into a young-adult (with a child, mind you). The album has some great tunes, but stands as a diary for a star in the making who's realized that the opportunity she was blessed with is nothing to take for granted. THAT'S COOL IF YOU ASK ME!

Giving Up the Gun is awesome and so is the rest of the album. Come on, you don't expect me to barf out loquacious passages for every pick, do you?!

For the longest time I had the soundtrack to Mass Effect 2 filling out this list. Then I realized, most of the best tracks in that game were the ones from the first. Then I remembered... the only musical cue in a videogame this year that socked me in the face was from Red Dead Redemption. When all was said and done, when you finally kill that last guy, when you're finally free to return to your family from the gun battle, Jamie Lidell's Compass starts to play as you make your way home. An absolutely incredible moment. The rest of the soundtrack by Bill Elm and Woody Jackson also punctuates each scene it's featured in the game.

A perfect compliment to an excellent film. The kinetic energy of the flick paired with these crunchy beats is the definition of synergy. Seriously, I should make a pie chart or bar graph or something to show you how well these two components mesh. Also, it's an absolute crime I didn't put Metric's Fantasies in my list last year. THIS IS ME MAKING UP FOR THAT! But seriously, the rest of the album is pretty awesome too.

Jumpin' the Shark

2010-12-05T22:16:00.017-05:00

I've been to San Diego Comic-Con. I've been to Blizzcon. I've been to E3...con. I preface with this thunderous banging of my chest because, well, I've been to the big hitters. But by no stretch of the imagination could I be called a regular at these "nerd" conventions. Not at all. I went to Blizzcon because I had a boner that I could've vaulted off of for Starcraft 2. I went to Comic-Con the first time because I was hard bumming about Taiwan and wanted a change in scenery, and the second time to see Hiyazaki and Lasseter (and got to see a shitload of other cool celebs). And I went to E3 because, shit, I was eleven. What eleven year-old wouldn't want to go?

But today... oh, today.

I didn't even know there was an Atlanta Comic-Con. At first I had said 'nay' to the idea... but it was a two-day endeavor so I couldn't refuse an invite to day two. But you know, I pumped myself up. Lando Callirisian (don't care enough to find the proper spelling) was going be there! As well as the black Ghostbuster and Linda Blair and Vivica A. Fox and Mimi Rogers and The Fonz and Pam Grier and Fred Williamson. ALSO! THE MAP SAID THERE WAS A GAMING SECTION! YEAAAAAAAAAAAA!

But then I arrived. What a sad state of affairs.

I'm sure all of you are drawing mental images of what these "nerd cons" are like. Let me tell you, the three aforementioned cons I mentioned are like supermodel orgies in a space mansion. This one was like having sex with a fat chick on an air mattress in some rundown basement.

To make the rest of this entry more... I guess, reader friendly, I'm going to bust out CHAPTERS!

Celebrity Petting Zoo!
The one super cool thing was I got to see some celebs. Who wouldn't want to see Lando Callorizian (again, don't care enough) with their own eyes? My boner was only, like, TEN feet away from Vivica A. Fox and Mimi Rogers! That's practically a handjob in celebrity sighting standards! But there was this weird... melancholy sadness to it all. Like, walking through the celebrity area felt like a zoo. You just look, smile to yourself, and walk on. But if you wanted to stop for a photo-op, go for it. I mean, I think you had to pay some of the people... but still.

Not Vivica A. Fox
I also saw this mega-nerd talking to The Fonz. The expression The Fonz was wearing on his face was pretty much, "Look, bro. I don't want to talk to you anymore. Move on." But the mega-nerd wasn't moving on, so The Fonz busts out that super awkward move of organizing a paper stack by putting more paper on it and then straightening it. He doesn't want to talk to you so much that he's more interested in organizing stacks of loose paper than hearing your dribble.

Then there were some celebs there that I had to google. Seriously. I'd walk by someone and think to myself, "Who the hell is that..." and run off and IMDB them on my iPhone. Even then, if I had seen them credited to a big flick, I'd be like, "Who were they in the movie?"

But seriously, it was awesome seeing the people there. I mean, WHEN ELSE would you see a Black Sora cosplayer telling Mimi Rogers she's hot?

I know, so artsy. I'm taking a picture of someone taking a picture of someone else.
COSPLAYERS!
The staple of these conventions are the people who dress up. It's expected. And hey, I wasn't disappointed. There were some good cosplayers.

For the record, dude was dressed up as The Red Skull.
This guy probably thought he was super clever bringing in a case of Colt 45 and showing it to Lando Calirrisian, who probably feigned his 57,950th chuckle at the "joke."
Last one I'll post. But seriously, notice how spacious it all is. You don't know how awesome of a luxury that is to have at a nerd convention.
Fat, Bald, White Piece of Shit
So a friend of mine wanted to sell her Magic cards. She sees a vendor and presents her haul. The person she asked politely responded, "Oh, well, Tom (made up name for the fat, bald, white piece of shit) is in charge of all that."

Off in the other corner of the booth sat this stereotypical white, probably late 30s but looks like he's in his late 40s because of his Cheetohs and Mountain Dew diet, fat alpha nerd. He waddled over with that undeniable sense of unfounded self-confidence because he can differentiate between [insert super obscure piece of geek trivia here].

It took him forever, but when he finally did and offered a price. Marilyn said, "FUCK YOU AND YOUR PRICE!" in a polite way and left. As soon as we turned around, though, there was another vendor looking to buy Magic cards. Super nice dude. Then shit got weird. Alpha Fat, White, Douche Nerd decided to waddle over and sat right next to her.

No, really, he may not look it in this pic, but the back dude was SUPER nice. Unlce Remus nice.
Basically, dude was there to undermine Marilyn's attempt at a new transaction, which made it SUPER OBVIOUS he was trying to undercut the actual worth of the collection. So the black dude ended up offering more. Long story not-as-long, Marilyn doesn't sell. But man, the audacity of this dude. I just wanted to smash a chair in his face.

Oh, yea, and about that "Gaming" section I was so pumped about? It meant table-top gaming... Magic cards and shit. DAAAMNNNNN YOUUUUUUUUU!!!

All in all, though, it was a fun Sunday afternoon.

Poopgiving~

2010-11-26T04:15:00.005-05:00

Today, I uncovered something new about myself. At around 9:30 p.m., my digestive system decided that it had to take a poop. Now, do I poop at this person's house, knowing that the smell would be absolutely rank? Like, you know how sometimes, before you even take the poop, you KNOW that it's going to smell like Indian food stuffed into a diaper and thrown outside to bask in the sun for one week?

Well, the two bathrooms that were available to the guests happen to be one room over from where everyone was. On the first floor, there was a group of people in the study room having a chat, and in the basement, there was a room full of kala-ok'ers. The very real risk of them smelling the brownies I was about to bake was something I didn't want to gamble on. Also, what happens if RIGHT when I leave, someone walks in? THAT PERSON WOULD NEVER LOOK AT ME THE SAME! Something happens when you smell the aftermath of someone else's poop abortion, an effect not unlike accidently walking in on someone masturbating. The awkwardness is crippling.

So I decided to hold it in. I mean, the drive home would only be about twenty minutes MAX, right? I can hold it in that long. I mean, I knew it was diarrhea knocking on my door, so farting to relieve was out of the question. And besides, the pleasure of being able to shit in one's own throne is unrivaled.

Well, of course I-85 would have super traffic at 9:30. Of course I would have to fight the unbearable discomfort of being in a small enclosed backseat because my sister had a baby-seat strapped back there. And OF COURSE it had to be diarrhea so I couldn't try and blow a relief fart.

It was then, that I discovered something new about myself: I think given the circumstance, I would've shit RIGHT in my pants.

I mean, I had already exhausted all other options. The walls that lined the side of the highway seemed to be my best bet. If it came down to the Pearl Harbor of shit attacks, I could scale these walls and hop to the other side and relieve myself. I was wearing super nice clothes, but I'd have to find SOMETHING to wipe my ass with... so my cashmere sweater would've had to take one for the team. Yea, seems a bit convoluted, right? So instead, I went with shitting in my own pants.

Luckily, all the time I spent devising a plan blinded me to the fact we were almost home. The sensation of your crap wanting to SMASH through your sphincter like it's the Kool-Aid Guy and your sphincter is the brick wall ACCENTUATES TEN-FOLD when you realize you're only a few minutes away from home.

My uncanny ability to hold it for thirty-plus minutes completely dissolved when we turned into my neighborhood. I had to tell my sister to stop the car at the mailbox so I could RUN inside. I mean, the celerity that I tore my clothes off is a sight to behold.

In the end, all was well. I can proudly say that I have never shit myself... ever.

You Mos Def Won't Be Reading All This.

2010-11-15T00:01:00.010-05:00

There are totally incongruous thought processes that run through my head that create some serious conflicts of interest. I mean, most of the time these opposite forces don't cross paths in my mind... but when they do, and if my brain was a jungle... then it's a mind battle who's equivalent would be Arnold fighting Predator at the end of Predator. The one issue that I've been more vocal about is my choice in vocation. These two careers invite two different mantras on life. One allows me to draw inspiration by reveling in imagination. The other summons it by operating through a relatively rigid set of rules. That one is no surprise.

But there's other aspects of my life that dwells in my psyche that I don't share on this public forum. If you think I'm going to share them now... WRONG! Not because I'm embarrassed by them, but because if I dispel it all, I could probably write, like, seven Boxcar Children books worth of material.

So, yea, recently, I've started seeing a therapist. Initially, the intent was to just have an outlet to tell all the things I haven't or couldn't tell other people. There was this gloriously euphoric release when I realized I had exorcized all the weight that was on my shoulders.

Trust me, I'm more fucked up than most people would believe.

Anyway, so I've discovered through the process that I genuinely do want to become a doctor. During the horrible tango between being a doctor and doing something film-related, I thought I had come to the conclusion that my being a doctor was more influenced by a sense of filial piety rather than self-fulfillment. And while family is extremely important to me... it IS my life. Maybe I failed to embrace the academic aspect of my life due to an unwillingness to adhere to tradition. To not feel trapped by some sort of preordained fate. I've got the smarts, I've got the ability, and I HAVE the drive... I just never applied it. And it's odd... I've always been fascinated with science. Except science that deal with numbers... like chemistry... and physics... that shit's gay.

Excuse me if all this sounds like a jumbled mess and a diarrhea of conscience. I've always possessed a wanting to help others. It's something I rarely ever mention, because, as mentioned before, it's somewhat of a conflict with the general presentation of myself. I'm extremely greedy with my time. Part of the reason why I'm so allergic to the notion of relationships is the seemingly incredible amount of sacrifice one has to make WITH their time. But I would willingly give my time if it meant I could help others.

Does this mean I have a stunted view on friendships? Maybe. My tendency to cast away friends and eradicate any emotional ties with them at the drop of a hat is a cause for alarm. Of course I need relationships to operate properly, but I can last longer than the typical person when in a state of "loneliness" or "hermitting," whichever seems more appropriate to you. However, when given the opportunity to lend a helping hand... I seize it.

In High School, I had WAY more hours than I needed for the Community Service Badge. I never did the paperwork to get it, though. For me, KNOWING that I did these hours were more than enough. Having it manifested as a tactile object to be pinned to your sash as an achievement just didn't appeal to me. It's something we all should do. Every so often, I'll see a person who likes to strut their charity work around like it's a magical pony that shits teddy bears and XBOX's and then preach to you why you should be doing it. I never want to be perceived as that guy. So I've kept quiet. But I finally realized that this part of me fits perfectly.

I'm good with people. Yea, sure, I've got some social hang-ups, like, namely being an asshole at times, but at my core, I'm good with people. I can easily relate and find a connection to them, pending that there IS a connection to be had. As a side effect of pushing people away, I'm able to drift effortlessly between different groups of people. At the end of the day, I'm pretty affable. I mean, if I feel you've wronged me in any way, I will be venomous. But at my core, I'm nice. Yup, even to fatties. I'm for serious.

So where's this all going? Why is this entry devoid of the typical shenanigans one comes to expect from this blog? I highly doubt many of you managed to make it this far into this entry, but if you did, this is me screaming at the top of my lungs that I think I'm finally in tune with myself. I'm not saying I have it all figured out, I'm just saying I've found myself back at a balance.

I want to be a doctor because that's what I want... and I totally have the skill set to succeed in it. RAWWWWWK.

Tokyo Sandblaster

2010-11-11T01:38:00.009-05:00

Rarely do I find the need to chime in on "current events," but this particular topic strikes such a chord in me that I have no choice but to stand at the tippy-top of a mountain and pound my chest while barfing out a needlessly loquacious spiel about it.

It's only day three and some bloggers and television critics are passing judgement on the new Conan show. I've seen editorials begin with, "Sorry, Conan, but I'm sticking with Stewart and Colbert" and "Enough with the NBC jokes! Get over it, Conan!" All I can say to that is "ess tee eff yu."

Come on people, maybe on Tuesday he cracked two jokes about NBC with a count of zero for tonight. Andy referenced the old late show but it was hardly worth a scalding! And this bullshit about turning it into a "You either watch Conan or Stewart and Colbert... NOT BOTH!" Daily show has reruns, like, three times a day... that's some ridiculously gay shit to be putting in your publication. I'm pretty sure when I was eight, if Tiny Toons and Pete & Pete were on at the same time, I'd find a way to watch them both. And I was eight. There wasn't any goddamn DVR or Tivos around.

Maybe I'm a little too defensive about all this, but I really want to see him succeed. For a guy who's been thrown into a vat of infectious waste and crapped on while he's gasping for air at the surface, he's been a real champ about all this. To close his run of the Tonight Show by telling the world, "Don't be cynical," well, I have nothing but respect.

Sure, the new show might be a tad bit stale because it's the same-old-same-old, but it still puts a smile on my face. Given time to stretch his legs, I'm sure Conan will hit his new basic cable stride. I mean, not that my mini-rant will do anything, but just thought I'd throw it out there.

The only way Conan could be better is if it was hosted by this guy. In this costume. With that sword.

TASTE LIKE COLLEGE!

2010-11-08T19:27:00.005-05:00

It's not really a super power I brag about, but I'm incapable of hangovers. No joke. I think the rough college experience of taking shots of Everclear out of ladles toughened me up to the affliction. But it pumps me up. After a hard night of drinking, I can wake up the next day practically 100%. Granted, there have been a few times where I wake up extremely lethargic, but that isn't my body crying out for some rest. It's just me lacking any desire to do anything but watch T.V..

HOWEVER, TODAY... it was completely bizarre. I was fine until lunch time, when suddenly I felt like my mind and energy had been sapped. The night before I had attempted to write a blog entry, but everything I was writing just felt off. I attributed the lapse to how sleepy I was. But today, certain things were just clicking slower. Like, I could feel my neural transmitters firing off slower.

After eating lunch, I just sat there, oddly strained. Was this a hangover?! A whole day late?! Because I drank on Saturday and I was spruced up all day Sunday. So how, on a freakin' Monday afternoon, did I suddenly get the side effects? Weird! I mean, maybe I drank so much I did some brain damage...

Anyway... thought I'd share what might be my first true hangover. Had an amazing weekend. Perhaps someday I will share the tale! Until then... obligatory visual stimulus.

Stay-Dee-Um Love!

2010-11-01T02:49:00.010-04:00

Consider 2010 to be a personal renaissance for live music in the Mansion-Robot-Castle of JoE Shieh (obviously a person as awesome as me lives in an Mansion-Robot-Castle and not just some boring old house). I've ventured through a whole lot of nothin' to feast my ears on Gaga. I've lost myself in the rock-fueled trance brought on by the onset of TWO Muse concerts. My most recent endeavor was like taking my ears and swimming in a metaphorical sea of sexy, soft girl-boobs. Metric blew me away.

Initially I had decided NOT to go. I was like, "It's on a weekday, I got work the next day, I'm sure I'll be too worked up when I get home at midnight or whatever to sleep and I'll probably ruin the next day." GOOD THING I KICKED MATURE-THINKING JOE IN THE FACE! Well, I also told a friend that I'd go... so, I didn't want to be a fuss face and abandon said person.

Let me preface with this... it's becoming more and more apparent that my musical taste might be VERY similar to lesbians.

So I get to the concert and I'm all jazzed we got prime seats at the balcony. Marilyn points out that the two young teens in the front were lesbians. I'm all like, "NUH UH~" but the two girls were all like "YES HUH" with their affection and haircuts. I pause and start scoping the rest of the venue.

Lots of lesbians.

That got me thinking about my musical taste. I prefer the sensuous, dulcet tones of a female siren. I mean, is that so wrong? Granted, sometimes, when I sing along, I have to change the pronoun 'him' into 'her' and such to at least feel a little bit more manly, but whatevs~ I'm totally fine that my musical taste leans more toward the estrogen than the testosterone.

Anyway, so before the concert began, I was at the bar getting drinks and I see this girl in this Loli dress. In my head I'm all, "Dang girl, you look crazy but you cute as hell!" When I got back to my seat, I saw the same girl sitting next to another person also dressed up like a Loli. I turn around to get a better look and low and behold... this other person was a MAN! CROSS-DRESSING! I slowly turn back around, perturbed.

What if that person I was checking out at the bar... WAS A DUDE, TOO?! I mean, I can handle genuinely calling ONE dude hot in a year, but two is just unheard of! I turn to Marilyn for some confirmation of the girl's XX-chromosome-ness. Marilyn assured me it was a girl. Phew, looks like I don't have to take the boner police to boner court!

Also, I saw this super old dude:

My immediate response was, "Hey, Old Dude! Did you get lost on your way to the supermarket to get some skim milk so you can warm it up when you get home and sleep at 5 p.m. because you're old?!" Well, if The Giver ever taught me a lesson, it's don't judge a book by its cover, because even though the old dude with the wicked prospector beard LOOKS like he's got some bad ass war stories to tell, he doesn't, and the book is boring as shit. This old dude, however, was rocking it the HARDEST down at the pit. He was putting everyone to shame. You're okay in my book, Old Guy!

So yea, the concert.

What can I say? It was amazing. Emily Haines stormed the stage and proceeded to rock my pants off. I would wax on poetic about her heavenly voice, but I'll just let this video do the talking. This was the final encore song they played.

I know, amazing. If they were playing at any venues super close in the near future, I would totally road trip it!

Here's a super fat cat to close this entry.

Is It All Because of A Girl?

2010-10-24T16:24:00.008-04:00

I'm in an existential funk. The thing about them is, they're never quirky or hilarious like the movies lead you on to believe. I'm pretty sure a solid 90% of people in my age range goes through this dumb inner-turmoil, but in my case, the two opposing sides are just so damn different.

On one corner, we've got the JoE that's been around for awhile. The JoE with a voracious appetite for the unknown. The JoE who refuses to grow up and laughs at the word "duty" or when someone says something like, "I do do that." Then there's the other JoE who's all thinking about, "I need to make a solid foundation so when I eventually start a family, I'll have a heads up." The JoE who weighs the pros-and-cons of an event before he sets out to do it. These two shouldn't exist simultaneously! They're incompatible! They're Charizard and Squirtle! Mutually weak against each other! LAME!

The friction between the Pokemon Red and Pokemon Blue of me is starting to become taxing. It's like I'm on a swing, and on one side there's a T-Rex waiting to devour me and on the other there's a black man waiting to molest me. When the swing finally sways and I fall onto one side... the results are going to suck. Don't want! Growing up blows! Risk rewards is gay!

Anyway... today I've got uncontrollable diarrhea. It's kind of weird. I didn't eat anything crazy... maybe my stomach adapted to a healthy diet and with all the beer from yesterday and trash food that I put in my system, it's not computing. It's like my stomach is trying to divide by zero and everything inside is fucking up!

No, I'm not JUST putting this picture up because Naomi Watts is a smoking babe and Jude Law is a dreamy like a mermaid riding a unicorn. It actually has to do with the entry... but it's up to you to figure it out!

RUH-RUH-RUH REMIX!

2010-10-20T23:28:00.004-04:00

I got two things I want to talk about and they both take root in the baby shower at work today.

In Chinese, there's this saying that roughly translates into "husband-wife face." It's the equivalent of the American saying that as the years go on, you look more like your spouse. The Chinese one says that when a couple looks alike, then it's pretty much a match made in Heaven. They're destined to spend a long, love-filled life together. Imagine if Katy Perry turned lesbian and got with Zoey Deschanel. Yea, the Heavens would probably implode from all the sexy. So one of the lawyers at work had his baby shower today and when his wife came in I was like, "What the sister or cousin?!" The husband and wife could've passed off for twins. I'm not even kidding. They even had the same laugh. But hey, maybe that's what makes them a super adorable couple.

But this saying troubles me... I don't know how attracted I would be to a girl that looks like me. For serious... Fate, throw me a Naomi Watts looking girl... super cereal here.

The other thing was, at the punch table, one of my co-workers was telling me about the bitchin' awesome punch and how she was going to make it for her daughter's birthday party.

Later, she comes over with her daughter while she was drinking the punch and gets her daughter to tell me that the drink was awesome. So I go, "I didn't say you would hate it! But have a good party next week."

My co-worker looked at me and said, "What party?"

Holy. Shit.

Like, her face didn't contort or anything and the inflection in her voice wasn't any different... but I knew. I sensed the fire burning in her stomach. I just ruined a surprise party for her daughter!

I'm totally notorious for blabbing my mouth. I'd say in the past month I've ruined AT LEAST three surprises for people. To my defense, the bit of information wasn't presented to me AS a surprise, so I assumed it was common knowledge! Anyway, all the other times, I didn't feel TOO bad, but this time, it was ruining the surprise for a child! I'M A MONSTER!

Felt like I needed to get that off my chest. Boom.

Don't Worry If I Write Rhymes, I Write Checks

2010-10-20T23:15:00.004-04:00

I've dismantled the Weight Loss Blog I had started last week. Partly because it was a deterrence from me making new entries in this blog and partly because a few people complained about it being "boring." I'LL BE DAMNED TO UPKEEP ANYTHING BORING! I mean, it was more or less something for me to see when I'm in super great shape in the future... to see my struggle, my trials and tribulations in word form. Alas, when I require myself to write something new EVERY weekday, the product can get stale fast.

SO! I'll be cramming updates down your throat via this blog!

NON-SEQUITUR POWER!

Tonight, I went and revisited some of my old short films. The last one I made was goddamn three and a half years ago. Where did I go wrong?! My pseudo-excuse is that I've been focusing on writing more... but still, I should be on this. I've made a decision about my future that's allowed me one last window of opportunity to live life to the max. Sometimes I get a little afraid to be more candid with this blog. I've always said that these entries are more for me than it is for any potential readers out there.

I've kind of shied away from that mantra. No more. I'm going to write in this thing like it's only for my eyes. So, expect a more eclectic mix of entries. Take this one for example. One minute I'm talking about a weight-loss blog, then about making shorts, and now... KIRBY!

My goodness. This past week, I feel like I'm slowly phasing out the hardcore aspect of gaming in my life. No way am I going to completely abandon it, but I could do without the voracious hunger to devour EVERY game that comes out. Sorry, Vanquish. Maybe next time, Fallout: New Vegas. But good lawd... Kirby's Epic Yarn is pretty much amazing. Not wanting to get into it too much, but Nintendo games and their gameplay philosophy is magic. If you have ANY footing in gaming, do yourself a favor and pick this game up.

AMBERFIELD COPS!

2010-10-14T00:30:00.005-04:00

Today, I got this email from my pops:

Dear Amberfield COPS members,

Several neighbors have passed along information regarding a convicted sex offender who has been approaching children in neighborhoods and shopping centers. These incidents have been reported in Johns Creek. Please be alert.

According to the Johns Creek Police Department, there have been recent reports in our area of suspicious conduct by a man fitting the following description:

White Male
Age: 60-70
Silver Hair
Medium Build
Driving a Red Dodge Dakota Truck

This inidvidual has been seen wearing various masks (in one case he was wearing a skeleton mask). He reportedly has a puppet on his hand and has asked children if they want a ride.

I've seen The Changeling. Child abduction is not a laughing matter. It's heartbreaking. And when John Malkovich brings one of his buds to your house and tells you that you guys can't afford the best attorney in town, and then that buddy he brought is all like, "That's why I'm going to do it pro bono"... that shit tugs at my heart strings. But this email? HILARIOUS!

So for one thing, the dudes older than sixty. Have you seen sixty year olds? THEY'RE OLD! They're all wrinkly and slow-moving and stuff. And they can't really get boners. Fact.

Okay, I'm not trying to get all Ed-Norton in Red Dragon here and delve into the mind of a pedophile (fuck you to those who were snickering), but I'm going to delve into the mind of a pedophile.

First thing. A skeleton mask? That's what you're going to wear to attract the kiddies? Granted, I could waive this off, because maybe the eye-witnesses confused his super, nasty, wrinkly old face with a skeleton mask. But, for the sake of the mind-delving, let's say he is. What a horrible idea. If I was a kid and some stranger pulls up in a skeleton mask and is all, "Want a ride?" I'd be like, "Your scary. No thanks." But if some stranger pulls up with a Shrek mask, I'd be like "What?! I love Shrek! I've seen all your movies! Actually, they kind of sucked after two. Regardless, because of that, you are not a stranger, so I'm on board!"

And the puppet? Um. Maybe it's to offset the fashion faux-pas pick of the skeleton mask? I mean, I'm hoping it's a shitty sock puppet, because that'd only add to the absurdity of it all. Even if it was some elaborate puppet that, when you open it's mouth, a tongue would fly out with a squeaking noise, a puppet is STUPID. That's not enticing to the youth of today! Bust out some fake Miley Cyrus or Jonas Brothers tickets. Kids are too dumb to know they're fake! Also, the biggest foul is that the vehicle wasn't a van. HELLLLOOOO, PEDOPHILE 101, K?!

But honestly, while I find this specific situation absurd, if I do happen to stumble upon this man, I'd beat the life out of him, and then the shit out of him. I'm not kidding. It don't stand for this shit. It puts a fire in my belly. A child's sense of wonder and their innocence is the most precious thing in the world. To rob them of this is the most heinous, disgusting, abhorrent thing a human being can do. Even if the THOUGHT of doing something like this crosses a person's mind, then that person is an absolute waste of life. Seriously, I hope this motherfucker crosses my path, because I'm going to break every withered, aging, arthritis-riddled bone in his body.

PEDOPHILES!

DMX! WAN WAN~~

2010-10-11T00:29:00.005-04:00

I haven't seriously clubbed since Spring of 2k10.

And I love clubbing.

The sudden lack of interest in one of the epitomes of being in your twenties (Yes, in your goddamn twenties! If you're thirty-plus and still clubbing, then it's pathetic. Unless you're a hot mom... to which I fully support...) isn't exactly befuddling to me. I know exactly why I abandoned it. The weekends just all blend together. Aside from maybe a few things here and there, there wasn't much to differentiate one trip from another.

What's odd about that is, during my stint in Taipei, there might've been clubbing three to four days out of the week and never once did I go, "You know, I can do with little less of this." I'm not saying clubbing in Atlanta is lame, but I gauge these kind of nights by how absurd the anecdotes are.

Having said all this, I'm starting to get the itch again. I'm getting the itch to spend money with reckless abandon and to do shameful things that I barely remember the morning after. As the single-digit in my age starts to climb, things around me are clamping shut. Clubbing being at the forefront.

The luxury of blaming stupid decisions on youth is slipping through my fingers and I don't like it! So, I officially declare that, as of December 31st, I shall resume a life of debauchery and glitzy decadence! Also, hopefully I'll return to my roots on this blog and talk about poop and stuff some more!

I miss the Simpler-Days-Hairbow Gaga.

Kids Need Wings... and Dads

2010-09-20T23:13:00.018-04:00

This past weekend I finally saw Lady Gaga with my own eyes. These pearly whites have personally gazed at Mama Monster. Shit was pretty awesome. And while the concert was the highlight of the Charlotte road trip, it'd be criminal if I failed to mention the other happenings of the one-day adventure. So yea, I'm about to get all book-like up in here and break the shit down into chapters.

South Carolina? More Like, South Poop. Or Poop Carolina. Or Poop Poop
South Carolina is a snoozefest. It takes only two hours to blast through it. It's faster to drive through South Carolina than it is to watch a Lord of the Rings movie. Absurd. It should be ashamed to be a state.

Hong Bwo-Zi's and Milfs
My mind was blown from how many rednecks there are in North Carolina. While I was walking through downtown, I kept having to remind myself that I was in a downtown. I mean, I've become so accustomed to Downtown Atlanta that, in my mind, what makes a downtown a downtown are the characteristics that Downtown Atlanta bear, like trash everywhere and black people.

When we peeked out the window and over the pool, we saw a group of people drinking beers while their heads were wrapped in towels. We didn't talk to them, nor have any basis to call them rednecks, but we called them rednecks.

Aforementioned towel heads drinking beer. I got to see down the shirt of one of the chicks and totally saw her boobs. Speaking of boobs!

I saw so many milfs there I literally did not have enough blood in my system to pop the boners I wanted to pop. We also saw this older blonde with a scraggly looking Asian dude. They were all holding hands and being intimate amd stuff, so Sara and Marilyn were like, "She's got an open mind." And I'm all, "He's got an open wallet." HA HA HA I MADE A FUNNY!

The Unslick Black Dude and The Hair Rubber
After Semi-Precious Weapons performed, I was busy twiddling my thumbs while waiting for Sara and Marilyn to get their drinks. This slick looking black dude casually bobs his head over my way and just stands there for a bit. Then, at a completely arbitrary moment, he turns to me, points at the empty seat to my left, and says, "Oh, I think that's my seat." And I'm all, "Oh, no it's not." Being caught in a lie, the dude scampers off to his shitty side seat and doesn't come my way again. Jackass.

Anyway, so when the Chens finally get seated, amidst conversation, I felt someone rub the back of my head. Like, I'm talking coursing-his-fingers-through my hair rub. If that wasn't enough, he threw some moans in.

Moans.

Instantly, I twisted my head back and asked, "Did you just put something in my hair?" He said he didn't, which is fine, but the image that was thrust at me was horrifying. Dude was rubbing his balls through his jeans. I turned around and faced forward, not really sure if my brain processed what I had seen right. I asked Sara to look at him and see if he was touching his balls. Sara took a glance and said 'Nope.' Later, she would tell me that she was lying because he was TOTALLY rubbing his balls.

Before Gaga even got on stage, the guy left and was never to be seen again. It's like he paid a hundred bucks just to rub some stranger's hair while he was rolling (pretty sure he was rolling). I mean, while I'm SUPER grossed out by the event, I guess I can take some comfort in knowing that my hair looked so nice and soft that this dude had to cop a feel.

Gaga Cosplay
A staple of Gaga's concerts have been the extravagant costumes her fans will wear to her shows. There's whole galleries devoted to it and some of them are amazing. Others? Not so much. I'm talking embarrassing awful here.

I would go through all the terrible costumes I saw, but there was one that just summed up all the suck.

She's just wearing swimming suit. No. That's it. I had seen her on the way into the stadium, but decided not to take a picture of the terrible. BUT, fate decided to throw her right in front of me inside to point out the pure shittiness of the costume. So there, World.

Gaga and Her Little Monsters
Soooo, I think I'm going to officially say that Gaga's gay mantra is a tad bit annoying. Like, Madonna knows a huge chunk of her fanbase are homosexuals, but she never really played it up that much. She just did her thing, got political here and there, and just performed.

Gaga's rise to fame started with the support of the gay community. I totally love how appreciative she is of her fans, but after going through alot of the interviews and concerts, she's kind of laying it on a bit too thick. There was a drunk dude sitting behind us that kept screaming for less talk and more singing. I'd be lying if I said a small part of me didn't agree.

Again, it's super cool she's so devoted to her fan base... but, honestly, it's more excessive than her wardrobe. Like, to me, it's the equivalent of KFC commercials going, "We are so deeply appreciative of African-Americans and how much they support our food!" DIal it back!

Have You Ever Seen Someone Get the Shoes Beat Off Their Feet? It's Awesome
Back at the hotel after the show, RIGHT after I finished showering, the fire alarm went off. We ended up having to walk down seven flights of stairs to get out of the damn place. So everyone huddles across the street, waiting to find out what happened. At the very top floor, you could see lights flickering in one of the rooms. We thought it was just some idiots smoking in their room and setting off the smoke alarm.

The firemen got there pretty fast, which was cool I guess. A part of me kind of wished one of the floors would just EXPLODE into flames. Because having to walk down seven flights of stairs at one in the morning RIGHT AFTER you showered is pretty lame. An explosion would've made it all worth it. But something just as good happened!

So, about twenty minutes after the evacuation, the crowd of people all stood up and focused their attention on something happening across the street. An ass-beating! Sara and I totally ran to the front to get a better view.

This is what went down: Some frat-tastic looking chubster was walking down the street. This tough-guy with a 'tude screams something at him from across the street, then runs at him and does this Troy-punch. Like, he jumps up in the air and punches the Chubster in the face on his way down. The Chubster falls to the ground and the Tough-Guy just pummels him with kicks. This all happened in front of the firemen!

After they broke up the fight, the Chubster was still on the ground, shoeless. The ass-beating was so severe that his shoes fell off. Awesome. Turns out, the Chubster was the guy who pulled the alarm. The Tough-Guy happened to see him or something, and decided to make like Batman and take justice into his own hands.

The firemen all surrounded the Chubster and scalded the fuck out of him. Then the bike cops arrived and laid into him before having to leave.

Haha. Bike cops. They probably left because they heard the cries of a kitten stuck in the tree.

Soon after, the real cops got there and THEY gave him another earful and then arrested his ass. What happened to the Tough-Guy? Dude got high-fives from the cops and probably got some sexin' right after.

Anyway, fun trip. I'll see you next April, Gaga.

It Smelled Like Farts in the Apartment

2010-08-22T20:46:00.017-04:00

If 'friend' is in a list of words you'd use to describe me, then you no doubt know that, in my mind, I'm wrestling with which life journey I should embark on. Do I take the road less traveled and pursue passion? Or do I take the beaten path that bears the prints of numerous sneakers, sandals, penny-loafers, and what have you's to be a doctor?

Now, throughout the majority of my life (majority meaning from since I attained the ability to forge memories to two years ago), I've been pretty goddamn sure about pursuing a career that required creative input. Not wanting to toot my own horn but... okay, no, I'm totally going to toot my own horn, I think I've got a natural panache and skill in writing. I mean, shit, writing is what got me out of my shell in high school. That's a story for another time, but really, I say it without any hesitation that my writing has had a HUGE bearing on who I am today.

Let's talk about the doctor path. It's not something I really parade around, but I genuinely love helping others. When I get a chance, I totally rock some community service. When I see hobos, nine times out of ten, I'll either buy them a meal or throw some change their way. I don't do any acts of goodwill for recognition or reward, but for me, it just rejuvenates my lust for life. I mean, when your actions can have a positive impact on others, there really isn't anything better. Okay, I'm lying. Waking up Christmas Morning and finding out you got a jetpack with laser guns strapped to the back is probably better. Not probably, mos def better. Or waking up in the morning and finding out you're married to Naomi Watts. That's pretty awesome, too. ANYWAY, the act of becoming a doctor completely caters to the ability to help others. I had considered being an nurse, but after talking to some nurse friends, it feels like a position where you'll always be undermined by the doctor.

So yea, two completely opposite paths lay before me. Technically, I can do both. Become a doctor and then continue to pursue my writing. But who knows what the hiatus will do to my writing abilities! It's an issue that's seriously splitting my head apart. What do I do? Sacrifice my late twenties and early thirties? Or pursue my top passion?!

This is why I wish I had a twin! Honestly! If I had a twin, I'd be like, "Hey, Twin. Go be a doctor. Then, when we want, we can switch on the fly!" To which my twin would probably say, "Um, I don't think it works that way. You don't just put on a white coat and call yourself a doctor. It's lots of hard work." To which I'd retort, "Look, I'm the original. You were the afterthought. I possess all the awesome qualities. You have do as I say." to which HE'D probably say, "Whatever. I'm Solid Snake. You're Liquid Snake. And Liquid Snake is super lame." To which I would say, "I should've just eaten you in Mom's womb." Unfortunately, I don't have a twin, so this solution isn't really a solution at all.

So here I am... still undecided. Lame.

This time, the obligatory visual stimulus actually SOMEWHAT reflects what this entry about. Lyrically, of course.

Tongue~

2010-08-19T23:30:00.012-04:00

So much as happened since the last time I blessed the world with an entry from this blog. I saw Scott Pilgrim, I got a haircut, I find this black chick at work super hot that I probably shouldn't, I saw Scott Pilgrim again, I'm edging closer to finishing my first 'script,' and I've gotten a renewed sense of urgency not to be fat. I HAD thought about verbally ejaculating all over this blog about how wonderful, amazing, and magical Scott Pilgrim is... but nah.

I could talk about how I've picked up a Confidence Power-Up and gained an unreal sense of self-confidence. I'm talking confidence where if someone asks you, "Hey, what do you do?" you respond with, "Google me, bitch." Yea, terrible, right? But nah.

Maybe I'll jive about how I feel completely lost in the nuclear winter that is life after returning the gaming PC that ran Starcraft 2 on ULTRA. How, after years and years of anticipation, I'm playing my potential GOTY on the lowest graphical settings paired with a so-so frame rate. Or maybe I'll tell you how stupid the story gets in SC2... but nah.

Or I could reveal the two inner turmoils that are currently having a bout in my head. One fairly obvious and one pretty personal. But nah.

Instead, I'm going to tell you about the time I thought I contracted mouth herpes: This one time, I thought I got mouth herpes. But I didn't. YAY! The end.

I just got them on a threeway call and told them they're the two other ingredients in my Dream Menage-a-Trois.

I'm Going to See Other Guys!

2010-08-07T14:18:00.006-04:00

I've been spending money like I've got a Scrooge McDuck building-pool that's filled to the brim with golden coins and cash. Spoiler alert: I don't have a Scrooge McDuck building-pool that's filled to the brim with golden coins and cash. Also, while we're on the topic, what the hell? Are ducks immune to the various bacteria that dwell on paper currency and coins? Shit's rank! Duck's are disgusting! Also, duck have corkscrew penises. And out of all the animals in the animal kingdom, they're proportion of wang-to-body is the largest. They're the black dudes of the animal kingdom. Gross!

Veering back on topic... yea, I've spent almost every dime I've made in the last 3.5 months. It's very troubling, not because it's a sign that I don't know how to save money, because that's easy. It's more of a sign of how much fun I'm having and if I'll be able to dial back that fun. Yes, shopping for stuff is factored into that fun. I guess eating food is factored into that as well. I'm living far too comfortably right now, and THAT is the problem.

So, I'm going to officially make a decree right here on this beautiful, sexy, voluptuous blog of mine: I will spend money like a middle-class citizen with two kids and a second mortgage for all of August and possibly September. Those are the MOST responsible spender-savers. I wouldn't said spend it like a hobo, but come on, hobos don't understand how to manage money. That's why they're hobos in the first place. Duh.

But yea, it's super troubling. Everything I make in August will be going towards paying off bills... and that's goddamn ridiculous. I'm going to take this opportunity to seriously lose some weight. I know, I've been talking about it since the beginning of this year, and you know what? Shit's about to get real. Better late than never, right?

Man, this entry has just been a tour-de-force that that heralds optimism and encourages a renewal of life! It's kind of like all of Eat, Love, and Pray condensed into a very digestible few paragraphs. Actually, I've never read nor know anything at all about that book, but I figure the analogy SHOULD BE appropriate. Look, all I'm saying is, watch out, World, I'm about to finger-bang you. Only consensually, of course.

I would boom-boom-pow this.

La Roux Isn't Chick Music, Is It?

2010-08-05T00:52:00.016-04:00

Today I went to this Sips and Strokes thing. It's some... chick gathering thing where you bring your own wine and paint flowers or unicorns or stuff. Basically, if you're a dude and you're at this thing, you're either a whipped boyfriend or a total gay. Seeing how I'm neither of those things, I was just someone there to fuck shit up. It was kind of cool because alot of the girls totally shot looks my way. Was it looks of "Hey, sup? Wanna do it?" or looks of "I want you to be MY gay BFF!"?!?!?!?! Anyway, here's my recollection of my foray into Sips and Strokes!

When I walked into the pseudo studio, I immediately alerted the boner police. I mean, it's one thing to expect a room full of girls, it's a whole different thing to actually BE in it. But, I immediately checked myself. Rather than take in the whole room as a collective entity, I began to inspect each girl as an individual.

Let me tell you, it was the Pack of Cheerleaders effect times 50. I mean, I'm not saying it was mostly raggedy-Annes in there, but it wasn't exactly a room full of babe-a-licious babes. In the picture above, that black chick who's ass-crack is almost hanging out WAS a total babe, though. But yea, extremely deceiving, you girls in a huge pack.

The subject of the night was abstract tulips. OBVIOUSLY, I had no intentions of following their guidelines. The moment the instructor began the lesson, I was like, "Yea, right. I live life in the fast line. I play by my own rules!" And as everyone started to draw the outline of their gay little tulips, I started blasting away at my canvas.

I dubbed this early piece, Black and White: The Essence of Free-Will and Morality. This isn't so much a painting, as it is a meditation and portrait on our world. The constant in our every day lives are choices. While every choice has a right or wrong (the black and white), navigating to the right choices isn't that easy. Because whether or not you choose the right or wrong, the opposing option will act as an antagonizing force and set obstacles in your way to make it as hard as possible. There's always a clear-cut answer, but in our morally-ambivalent world, picking that choice isn't always easy.

I explained the concept of the painting to some chick and after I finished, both of her breast exploded out of an intense lack of comprehensive skills for something so transcendental and deep. So, for the sake of other breasts, I decided to just paint a robot fighting a dinosaur. I think it's equally as intense.

I know, it's like looking at the blueprints of the Batmobile: awesome. But yea, if you'll notice in the background, EVERYBODY was painting the tulip. What a bunch of lame-o's.

So as I'm working on this mini-masterpiece, one of the chicks working there passes by and is all like, "Hey! I love your tulip LOL~!" and I'm like, "Hey! I think you kind of hot LOL~" However, it seemed like the enthusiasm was only shared by the people working there. Everyone else, mostly the older women, just kind of looked at my painting in either complete disgust or complete befuddlement. It was like they were trying to find the petals on my tulip.

There was even one point when I went to wash my hands with Sara and as we both were going back to our seats there was a CREW of women, half-drying their paintings and half-staring at my mine. I honestly couldn't decode their reactions. I mean, it looked like they were horrified, but at the same time, engrossed. I don't know... Women, m'right?!

Anyway... without further ado, I present my first of many mini-masterpieces.

If there was one piece of criticism that I could give to my painting, it's that the robot's eyes are horrible. They were originally a darker red, but I decided to draw an outline on them to accentuate their presence. The brushes we used weren't made for outline purposes so I ended up messing it up. When I tried to fix it, I messed it up even more! Hence, the funky eyes. Also, Sara's painting is pretty much amazing, too.

The question now is, "Do I make a return visit?" Yes. "Will I paint what they tell me to?" Duh five-million~ No. "Is JoE pretty much amazing?" Yes, yes I am.

HERP-A-DERP!

2010-08-03T21:02:00.008-04:00

Alas, here I sit, typing on my Macbook, devoid of any true means to play SC2 in all its glory. I mean, I can play on my brother's computer... which can only run it at all low settings. That's fine, because honestly, playing it on low settings is like eating a cheese pizza. It's pretty goddamn delicious, but, you know, toss in some olives, green peppers, sausages, and onion... well, it becomes awesome.

So, yea, I ended up exchanging that previous PC. Because aside from the fact it was an unstable piece of shit, it ran like a dream. The second one I got, shit crashed on day two through today. Absolutely frustrating. But I mean, I guess it's a blessing in disguise. I got to return the thing with no penalty and it probably saved me alot of future headaches. The nifty part is that I had recorded all the times the thing busted with my iPhone. All I did at the counter was bust out the videos and I got to return it no questions asked. The dude didn't even bother opening the box! So yea, looks like Apple leant a helping hand to pull me back from the dark abyss that is being a PC owner.

Baby, I'll never sway from you again! Come this Christmas, I'll grace my desk with a sexy new Mac of some sort. But for the time being, it looks like all the SC2-ing will have to take a hiatus... well, on a super rig. Man! The game looks like a cartoon on my bro's comp!

This is what SC2 looked like on my unstable piece of shit PC. Awesome, right? Like a wet dream of computer graphics!

This is what it looks like on my bro's computer. Yea.

You'll Probably Never Read This Entry In Its Entirety

2010-07-29T23:31:00.009-04:00

Brace yourselves for an epic tale. A story littered with emotions. A story of ecstasy, heartbreak, and redemption. A story of self-discovery that leads to a grand catharsis. This is my tale... of my first two days with Starcraft 2.

Oh yea, you better put on a raincoat, because I'm about to blast a hard load of nerd goo all over the place.

First, let me frame my sheer excitement for this game. I was more excited about July 27th than I was for my own birthday this year. Yea. I know. You don't need to tell me.

So in anticipation for this blessed event, after weeks of research and soul-searching, I decided to once again betray my feelings and take a dip into the PC pool. Comparing my options between the iMac and the PCs, I would get the biggest bang for my buck for SC2 IN a PC. So the Monday before the midnight launch, I finally made the decision to pick up a gaming laptop by a Taiwanese company. Being a lifelong Mac user, I thought I'd give Windows another chance.

BIG MISTAKE!

The first night was orgasmic. I blasted all the settings on SC2 to ultra and was salivating at the screen. Hundreds of marines and marauders huddling together without the slightest dip in FPS. I was like Joseph Gordon-Levitt in 500 Days of Summer. Everything around me was breaking into a song-and-dance, but instead of being with a somewhat-cute-but-definitely-overrated-in-the-grand-scheme-of-things girl, I was clicking away at an RTS.

Yes. I realize how incredibly sad that previous statement is.

The next day at work, it was like being a child on Christmas Eve all over again. The giddiness was palpable! As soon as the work day was over, I blasted back home to devour the rest of the game. After a hot four hour session, something went awry. The screen continuously blinked into an error. After some research, I found out it was a common problem for the laptop I bought. Crushed, I decided to call it a night and try again the next day.

So, once again, I blast home after the work day, but this time, much to my dismay, the system busted within five minutes of playing! WHAAAAAAAAAAA???!?!?!?! I'm not dropping a fat wad of cash to play a machine that SOMETIMES works! On the other end, my brother, who had been playing on his mini-Mac with his lowly settings, beat the game. He came into my room to parade his achievement, and when I asked if it was awesome, he just smiled and uttered, "I can't tell you that. Spoilers."

I bit my lip and raised my fist at the PC.

The next course of action is to either return the machine or exchange it. Without going too much into it, I found out that a potential fix to the situation was to not install a certain update. Well, even with that, the chances of the machine crashing wasn't completely eliminated. But goddamn, when it worked, it was an absolute dream.

So now, here I am, without a computer to run SC2 to the best of its abilities and I'll be damned to play that game on anything less than High settings! Eight years of speculative hope and three years of hot anticipation and you want me to play it on a Medium? No thanks!

But, this whole experience has lead me back to where I started: the Mac experience is just too damn fine. Granted, there's alot of limitations when it comes to the gaming portion, but the experience and stability of the Mac is something I've taken for granted. While I'm definitely a bit more sympathetic to Windows now, because they DO do some things right (huhuhuh, doo-doo), the instability and need to tinker around with settings to get the most out of the machine just isn't for me.

When it comes to Mac products, the "exuberant" prices they charge for their premium machines may seem horrible, but what you get in return is a product that will last you longer than the average PC (unless, you know, you want to play games. The Mac kind of sucks in that regard). Right now, I'm typing this entry on my five year-old Macbook. It's running JUST as fine as it did Day One.

The super ironic thing about all this is that one of my options was to hold out for the iMac refreshes. Rumors had them slated to hit the market in October. I couldn't wait that long to play SC! But, honestly, the day after I bought my PC , Apple decided to announce the refresh of their systems. It was like fate was cracking up in my face for temporarily jumping to the other side. But, lesson learned!

In this week, this is very tough, in this week, I'm going to take my talents to an Apple Store and get myself a new fancy iMac 27"!

... I think... I mean, they're pretty expensive... we'll see what happens!

OPERATION CWAL!

2010-07-24T02:48:00.007-04:00

The job market is atrocious. The economy is on the cusp of a breakdown. The BP oil rig is STILL pumping out barrels of oil into the Gulf. Record highs are recorded in what has become the hottest year known to man. There's a plethora of problems with the world, but which pressing issue is currently plaguing my mind?

Should I buy a new computer that allows me to crank all settings to ULTRA in Starcraft 2?

Yea, that's right. I don't give a shit about the job market because I got a job. Economy in the dumps? Yea, maybe for poor people! The BP oil rig is still spilling? The delicious seafood is all in the Pacific anyway! Okay, I'm totally lying. The BP Oil Spill actually bothers me lots and lots. But it's totally out of my hands so WHO GIVES A FUCK?! Okay, no, seriously, I do.

Shit's super serious. Anyway...

... and it's super hot outside? It's not super hot in my house, where I'll be playing Starcraft 2! So as you can see, all my energy has been invested into this mother of all sequels. So yea, Do-I-Buy-A-New-PC-For-SCBW2 > Melting Ice Caps. Can melting ice caps turn into Banelings? NO! Can global warming detect a nuclear launch and then force me to stop what I'm doing and fumble around my base to find a Ghost? NO! Clearly, my issue is way more important than everything else in the world.

With two days left until the biggest event in the history of PC gaming, I'm rendered impotent in being able to enjoy the game to its fullest degree! What to do, what to do?

DYLAN! YOU SON OF A BITCH!

2010-07-10T19:44:00.008-04:00

You know the part at the end of Iron Man 1 where Terrence Howard finishes doing some rad stuff and walks by the War Machine prototype and then looks at it while super bonering and goes, "NEXT TIME!" That's what happens every time I walk into a clothing store. I'll see some amazing shirt and rock music starts blasting and I go, "Next time!" and I walk off. So when's my 'next time?' Getting fit, duh! Yup, it's going to be another entry about my weight.

It's no secret, 95% of the time, I'm dressed very poorly. Stevie Wonder would probably walk up to me and go, "Hey! I'm blind and I dress better than you!" To which I'd say, "Hey! At least I can enjoy the color blue!" Then I'd high-five myself at the totally wicked burn, but stop when I realize he's crying, so I make it up to him by holding his hand and walking him through a busy market while narrating every beautiful mundane detail that we everyday people take for granted.

So yea, long story short, I LOVE to shop for clothes. LOVE IT. But it's no fun when you're not in shape. I know, it's such an obvious statement, but seriously, when fall season hits, I'm going nuts. It's going to be just like that montage in The Devil Wears Prada when Anne Hathaway goes from the frumpy girl to the fashion-fabulous babe.

P.S. - I saw Predators. This music vid for Ratatat's 'Mirando' was way better.

But She's a Horse Face!

2010-07-03T13:35:00.010-04:00

Right now, I'm watching Runaway Bride on TBS and going, "Damn, Julia Roberts is a babe," and my boner's going, "Wait... what?"

It's really bizarre to me. When it comes to Hollywood actresses, their attractiveness never really waiver throughout the years. If I find them hot I pretty much stick with them through the ages unless they get incredibly and disgustingly fat. Example, I thought Diane Lane was hot in Judge Dredd and I still think she's hot to this day. Around the same time as that flick, I didn't find Sandra Bullock hot in Speed or Demolition Man. And even to this day, even with The Proposal and The Blind Side, I mean, if she ran up to me and was like, "Jessie James has ruined white people for me! I only want to exclusively bang Asians now!" I'd be like "Well, okay, I guess. Let me get to a save point real quick, though." It's very consistent!

Michelle Pfeiffer, Naomi Watts, Angela Bassett, Joan Cuasack (yea, that's right, her)... not only does this prove my point about my consistency, but it also reveals my uncanny ability to pick out people that don't succumb to the menacing condition that is the old-age fatties.

Anyway, Julia Roberts. It's like some weird boner pendulum. So this all started YEARS ago with Ready to Wear. I have yet to see this flick, but I remember seeing commercials for it and thinking, "Dang, who's this babe?! Wait, that's Tinkerbell from Hook? What the..."

The hotness factor only lasted for that one flick I never saw. Then, it wasn't until Notting Hill YEARS later that I thought, "Hey, she's a babe!" Then that totally dissolved when she showed her armpit hair during her Erin Brockovich award season run. Then, when I saw Ocean's 11, I was all like, "COME ON! SO MANY HOT DUDES AND THE ONE CHICK WE GOT IS THIS DOG?!" They did remedy it in the sequel, though, with Catherine Zeta-Jones, another actress I've consistently bonered for.

So I sit here right now, watching Runaway Bride, totally find her a Baberham Lincoln, but also completely baffled and confused by it. I imagine this is the same feeling gay dudes get when they first realize they dig dudes and not chicks. Anyway, thought I'd enlighten you on this Saturday afternoon with a completely pointless tale. I mean, I had to brush up on my writing anyway. I feel like I'm slowly losing that super power!

"What is she, a wizard?!"

My Brain is Hurted!

2010-06-26T23:46:00.009-04:00

I haven't been writing in my blog and I'm totally ashamed of it. You know what else I'm ashamed of? How fat I've gotten. It's disgusting. Because, I KNOW I'm fat, but at the same time, I'm all, "Phfbt, whatever, I feel like a total stud! And to reward myself for being so studly, I'm going to get a LARGE portion of waffle fries!" It's completely bizarre. In the past, my self-esteem would start to dip as the pounds started to stack. But this time around, it's like my self-esteem and tummy are ballooning up at the same pace. WEIRD! BUT, I've decided to visit Taipei this October so, yea, I NEED to lose this weight! IT'S GOING TO HAPPEN, K?!

So, Toy Story 3. It's awesome. Go see it. Not going to review it, though. I'm going to talk about the film's villain.

Now, my sister works as a therapist and babysitter for autistic kids. These days she's pretty in-tune with what little kids are into. Her kids are Toy Story fanatics. About two weeks ago, my sister tells me that they've already gone crazy for the new character, Lotso. He's the big, adorable, purple bear. They couldn't wait to see the movie to find out how the new cast would interact with the original crew.

Well, here's the thing... out of all the Disney villains... Lotso is probably the biggest dick of them all. I mean, even Cruella de Vil would be like, "God, this bear is a dick." And she wanted to skin puppies!

See, when you think about the villains of Disney flicks, their grand plans all stem from one character flaw. Scar's jealousy of Mufasa lead him to kill his brother, Cruella de Vil's lust of wealth and decadence lead her to want to make a puppy coat, and Gaston's pride was unwilling to believe that a hot babe like Belle didn't want to jump his bones. But Gaston is an exception, because Belle was being a stupid slut. I mean, doesn't she know dude's got biceps to spare?

What's Lotso's character flaw? He's just a dick. Because he can't be happy, he makes it his job to make sure no one around him is happy. He has no lust for power, he has no aspirations, he possesses no jealousy for anyone, he just wants to treat people like trash. You could argue that his flaw was his need for control, because years ago he was abandoned by his owner through circumstances that rendered him helpless. So if you want to get all Psychology 101, he makes up for it by exerting an obsessive need for control. That's why he constructs the hierarchy at Sunnyside Daycare.

Nope.

At the end, when he's stripped of all his power, he still decides to be a huge dick. At one point you think, "Well, looks like the goodness of Woody and the gang has shed some light on his dark soul!" But nope, he decides to be a dick and dicks the toys over. I'm going to go back to Gaston here. See, Gaston knew his situation was dire when he was fighting Beast atop of the castle. Like, he could've easily begged for mercy and had the Beast bring him to safety and THEN stabbed him in the side, but no, Gaston's a true gentlemen. He said to himself, "Hey, I'm on top of this castle. The drop off is like, a billion kilometers. I could try and trick the beast into helping me get to safer grounds and then stab him in the face, but naw, that's pretty dick. I'm just going to stab him right now, regardless of how strategically terrible it is."

That leads me to my final thought. When my sister's kids see the movie and find out that the bear they had been so enamored with is worse than Stinky Pete (they HATE Stinky Pete), how are they going to react? Are they going to be ashamed of themselves for cherishing such a villain? Also, with the toys coming out, they're marketing Lotso as a super huggable and lovable character. He's even featured prominently in the Toy Story 3 Lego series! What's the deal?! Who would want to buy anything with him after seeing the movie?!

Anyway, the movie is wicked awesome. Go see it, or, you know, be a freakin' loser.

Hey. Fuck you, Bear.

PEH-NEH!

2010-05-23T23:38:00.003-04:00

D:

That expression sums up my thoughts on the Lost finale. Were these 2.5 hours worth the six years of blue balls? Probably not. To the uninitiated, I'm going to go ahead and spoil the finale: The alternate timeline is really a sort of purgatory that the cast of characters constructed to meet up one last time before they moved on into the afterlife. After kicking the smoke monster's ass, Jack restores the heart of The Island, some people make it off, and he dies where it all began.

Now, I'm not saying any of this to put the series down. Absolutely not. That above paragraph sounds convoluted, confusing, and tremendously stupid. The amount of holes the 'Happy Purgatory' creates is mind-boggling. The time in which every character become their... well, I guess, angel-selves are completely arbitrary and only benefits the plot. Locke dies before everyone else in the real world, but is one of the last to realize the grand scheme of things? Convenient for the writing, ludicrous for the story.

This borderline ridiculous final season really supports the claim that the writing of Lost is a top-down process. They begin with a nugget of an idea, and a brilliant one, mind you, and THEN they begin to build the underlying structure to support this fantastic and gripping moment. The best illustration of this idea? The Daniel Farraday character and all his subplots. Just sit back and think about all the 'Whoa Moments' that center around him. Really, think about it. All of Season 5 was inconsequential to the series as a whole. It was nothing more than a detour from the events of the final season and a method to kill off most of the characters that weren't part of the core cast. So yea, this final season bears this top-down process.

But you know what's beautiful? It all fits. The finale is congruous to the series as a whole.

There isn't a single part of me that regrets having dedicated so much of my time to this series. No matter how ludicrous the series became, or how massive the plot holes grew, I feel privileged to have experienced Lost during it's initial run. Watching the show immediately granted you access to a secret club. No matter who you were, what your personality was like, mutter Lost and suddenly you're engaged in a conversation about what's been happening. You could absolutely loathe the man you were talking to, but it wasn't going to stop the both of you from pondering what the hell was up with the polar bear. It was an exclusive club that had no restrictions for joining.

In an interview with Abrahams, he pretty much gave the audience his mantra on Lost. When he was a child, his grandfather bought him a box of magic tricks. The price tag on the box was, like, a dollar or something. Abrahams never opened it. For him, the mystery of what lied inside was infinitely more amusing to him. And well, that's what Lost was. The mystery, the possibility, the invitation to let your imagination go wild was what appealed to all of us and got us to watch the show. WIth that, the answers couldn't possibly be as grand as what we constructed. And you know, that's okay, because the show encouraged us to tap into our creativity. It begged for us to take a trip into our own imaginations.

But unlike Abrahams, we demanded that the magic box be opened. We demanded answers. We demanded to see the man behind the curtain. And you know what? No matter what we saw, it would never rival what we had in our minds. That's okay. For six years, we were able to participate in this tale of a group of people stranded on an island. And sometimes, when we yelled loud enough, the creators would cater to our pleas. In the end, whether or not this series holds up in the grand scheme of things remains to be seen. But as an active participant during its run, I would say it doesn't matter. Let yourself be tangled up in its mystery. Let yourself be entranced by its intrigue.

Lost stands proud of being one of the shows that brought back the serials and ushered in the Golden Age of television. I'll be damned if anyone could take away the fun I had with the series. And while the finale wasn't exactly what I was looking for, it was a fitting end. The beauty of it? As each new audience member finally finishes the series, whether it be twenty, thirty, forty, or fifty years from now... much like the characters of the show, we'll be there to say, "Hey, you made it through. Welcome."

Abrahams never opened that magic box. And you know what? I hope he never does.

Dithco Heaven~

2010-05-16T03:29:00.005-04:00

I was going to bless the world with a tale about shitting during a blackout, but that story really doesn't have any sort of purpose behind it. Because at first I'm all, "Oh no~ No electricity! No fan to blow away the doo-doo stench!" But then my dad's all, "You won't know how clean you've wiped your ass 'cos there's no light for you to see." So then it was all, "Oh no~ I'll be walking around with an unclean ass!" But then I got a candle and did the deed and it all worked out. Then, seriously, as I'm finishing up, the power was restored. Could you imagine a WHOLE entry devoted to that story?!

So yea, I'm not going to write about that.

If there's one thing I don't really blog about anymore, it's a recounting of fun-times. Yes, while I don't really go out as much as I use to, I never write about a night's escapades anymore. During the epic trip to Vegas last year, I didn't bother to put any stories up. And, yea, there most definitely were stories. And no, that "Stays in Vegas" bullshit wasn't why I decided to leave it out. It just seems a bit smug to me. None of the Taipei nights made it to this blog, either, for the same reasons.

I don't want this blog to seem like I'm trying to lift myself up into a different social stratosphere or portray myself in a different light.

At the end of the day, though, I think I'm cheating myself. This sort of mentality was around when I was writing in my first blog back in high school. In some of the entries, I left out HUGE chunks of events by saying something like, "Oh, the people who's involved will know what happened." Years later, I'm sitting here going, "WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED THAT'S SO AWESOME?! I DON'T REMEMBER! DAMNIT, PAST JOE!"

So, in an attempt to satisfy Future JoE, I'm not going to hold back. From now on, I WILL recount that story about when I was dragged into the girl's bathroom at Luxy to help out a girl puking her guts out, then carrying her on my back outside the club and jumping into a stranger's car to take her back to her place. I WILL recount that one time when we were in Vegas and Michael Clarke Duncan totally sat next to our booth at Sapphire, and Kevin wouldn't leave him alone so I jumped in to try and pull him off with Michael Clarke Duncan laughing at us. I WILL share the tale of wandering drunk around the parking deck near Tongue & Groove for half an hour, freaking the fuck out because I thought someone stole my car.

But I'm totally busy right now, so maybe next time!

That's RUFF! HA! GET IT?!

AIN'T NOTHIN' IN CLEVELAND!

2010-04-25T17:21:00.018-04:00

For some reason this past weekend, I had this bizarre desire to do something I haven't done probably since I was six or seven. I mean, it wasn't even like I saw someone doing it to make me want to do it. I was just sitting around and the thought karate-kicked its way into the 'Desire Room' in my brain.

I want to do a cartwheel.

Again, I didn't see anything on television or IRL to spark the fuse, so it's a bit baffling even to me why I would want to do it. The very real concern of my current stature and weight class gave me some second thoughts. First of all, the last time I did a cartwheel, I was a young, limber, and most importantly, very thin child. If I tried to do one in my current state, chances are I'd not only sprain my wrist, but upon landing, I'd probably smash through the floor and land in my basement.

But that isn't going to stop me!

Obviously I couldn't do it with anyone around me. Not because I'm afraid of them seeing me potentially fall in a very humorous way, but because I don't want to windmill kick them in the face and laugh at THEIR expense. See? I'm a good samaritan. Anyway, so today, I was alone by myself. It was a time.

I stood in the living room and looked around me. The worst thing that could happen is I hurt my pride and also kick-smash the LCD tele in half. The best thing? I do the cartwheel, succeed, and Zoe Saldana walks into the room and tells me, "You do a pretty good cartwheel. Want to make love?" and I'd be like, "Um, duh~"

So, I thrust my upper body towards the ground while throwing my lower-half in the air. If I told you that the next one-and-a-half seconds played out in slow-motion in my head, I'd be lying. As soon as my upper body returned the the upright position, I was like, "Whoa. That's it?" I looked behind me to double-check if anything was laid to waste.

Nope.

Just for good measure, I did another one. Still in one piece.

While my mind was all, "Wow, that was surprisingly easy!" my body was all, "WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?!" Not that anything was in pain, but because my lower-body hasn't been above my upper-body in over a decade. Anyway, yea, pretty awesome day.

Unrelated but equally awesome picture.

Indeed.

2010-04-06T08:28:00.004-04:00

It's been awhile since I've mentioned anything about my weight. Probably because there was nothing worth mentioning before, since, you know, I was getting fit! Well, obviously, now that I'm bringing it up, something has gone horribly awry.

My thighs rub against each other when I walk now... again.

Yup, one of the best parts about being fit has been engulfed by the fat once again. To those who have never yo-yo'd between two weight classes, I offer this analogy to you. Being fat is like wearing a sweater when it's 76 degrees outside with a coat of vaseline smeared all over your face. It's bearable but, MAN, it's super uncomfortable. You go outside and look at everyone that's all healthy wearing sweet clothes and looking comfortable and you want to take off your sweater... BUT YOU CAN'T!

Having said that... I went out and bought some Graham Crackers and apple juice last night. Let me just praise the combination of these two items. USUALLY, when you have two sweet things, the sweetness of one gets canceled out by the other. Like, if you eat a jolly rancher and then snack on an apple, that apple is going to do absolutely nothing for your taste buds. It's kind of like, if you took the hottest girl from your high school and then place her next to Megan Fox... well, someone is going to not look so attractive anymore. You'd think the same would apply to Graham Crackers and apple juice.

Nope!

In this case, it's like, the hottest girl from your high school IS Megan Fox. It's seriously amazing how with each bite and each sip, both items retain their deliciousness. There's no diminishing returns. You know how in Ratatouille, Remy closes his eyes and the flavors visualize as brilliant bursts of color and jazz starts playing? That's how I eat Graham Crackers and apple juice.

Now, I may or may not have covered the Bash Brothers of snacks before in another entry, because this is something that has amazed me since my preschool days. Really, with a blog that has been semi-regularly updated for four years, it's tough to know whether or not I've barfed out one of my many musings before. But this is most definitely worth mentioning twice!

Too lazy to find a relevant picture!

I Know Now Why You Cry

2010-04-04T02:37:00.007-04:00

The amount of time I waste online is goddamn infuriating. There was a period in my life when life was moving at such an awesomely fast pace that getting online was a rare occurrence. And when I did, it was usually over some drinks or at social get togethers. Now look at me! I just spent a majority of today fucking around in my boxers with an iPad in my lap!

I also realized that there is a direct correlation to my weight and how much fun I'm having in life. The more fun I have, the more weight I lose. "But how do you know it's not because your new healthy lifestyle makes you more conducive to positive thoughts?!" Because the best time I had in the past two years, I entered it more out of shape than when I left it. I'm having moderate fun in life now, but I want massive loads. I want to have so much fun that I could build a huge tower and fill it to the brim with the fun. And on that note...

iPad first impressions! IT'S AWESOME!

So, I think it's made me a believer in digital books. The signature app for digital books is the iBook. It comes pre-loaded with Winnie the Pooh, and man, let me tell you... I can see myself droppin' the old way and completely adopting the robot way. Here's something I never thought about. Today, I was laying on my back in bed and reading with absolutely no problems. There's never any need to adjust the light because the pages are already lit up for you. The people who offer up the criticism of "Oh, but your eyes will get tired faster from reading it that way." Really? We spend countless hours on our computers browsing through blog sites and devouring news stories. Pretty sure we can handle it.

It's not all is roses and cupcakes, though. The books are goddamn expensive! I mean, they're the same price you would find at the IRL store, but this is digital distribution! Shouldn't it be a tad bit cheaper? We're not paying for trees to get chopped down and the effort it takes to actually print it. So why are we still paying the same? Reading comics on this thing is awesome as well. No longer will you have to tough it out by going to a comic shop and putting up with comically overweight mega-nerds trying to have conversations between their gasps of air.

The Internet browsing. Yea, it's nice. Like I said in the last post, farting around on a couch with the telly on and mindlessly surfing the web is fantastic. I'm not sure if it's something the websites have to be programmed to do, but nearly every site I hit today was formatted perfectly for the iPad's screen. Never once did I have to scroll horizontally to read anything. Typing on the keyboard is sufficient for it's purpose. I was able to carry on a 90% accurate gchat with it. While hitting up the web on an actual labtop still feels like home, the iPad is a superb alternative. Note: the iPad was used with the Apple-made protective case that you can fold to be a stand. I'm not going to lie, it probably added to the enjoyment of browsing.

As a gaming platform, well, haven't checked out any games on it. I mean, Sudoku works pretty well on it.

...

But yea, come next year when the new model gets rolled out at a cheaper price, I see no reason for someone not to pick this baby up. And no doubt about it, next year's model will sport beefed up features. The brilliance of these new Apple product lines is that they're exciting enough for people to want to buy them at exuberant prices during the launch. Because of these early adopters and their disposable incomes, enough profit is made for them to upgrade the device in its second iteration with more features and a smaller price tag. Remember, the iPhone was $600 dollar for it's first model, and the first model is absolutely elementary when matched up to the latest incarnation. The iPod? Same way. So yea, until the iPads have an introductory price of $250 or $300, I'll try and not look like a huge douche while using one!

Stephen Colbert? More like, Stephen Gaybert. Ha ha ha, I made a funny!

There's Still One Chip Left :: Points at Head::

2010-04-01T04:16:00.013-04:00

NEERRDDD ALLLERRRTTT!!!
So yea, this entry will be devoid of any poo-poo, pee-pee, or puke-puke references. If an editorial about high-tech gadgets evokes a violent rage in you that can only be quelled by trashing a frat house full of nerds, then you better keep reading because turning ANY scene from Revenge of the Nerds into reality is hilariously awesome. Anyways, I'm going to be talking about the iPad.

Back during its reveal in January, it seemed like everyone was massively underwhelmed. Now, I'm not going to hide my stance on Apple. I've been using their products since I was born, my penis throws on a cape and has super boners about Steve Jobs, and the only computers I've ever punched in frustration were PCs. Having said that, I don't give Apple unconditional love. They were a shit company throughout most of the 90's and they've had their fair share of failures. I'm barfing this out because I don't want you to think this entry is a fanboy's love letter to a new Apple product. Like I said, as an entertainment device, the iPad can seem a bit underwhelming and unworthy of the hype.

It can.

Have you ever tried reading a book on the iPhone? It SUCKS. The Count of Monte Cristo is a free download on the apps store, but I'm not going to waste my unlimited bandwidth with that shit! Why the hell would I want to read a 1,000-plus paged book on a screen that's no bigger than a piece of bologna?! Digital books is something I'm not very receptive to, and no one will be able to convince me that the iPhone is a good medium for it. But the iPad? I'm intrigued. The steady decline of print is no secret. But the iPad has the potential to breath new life into the ailing industry. I'm not talking just books here, I'm talking magazines and newspapers. Seriously, the iPad could do wonders for the industry.

Another thing: internet on the iPhone. Don't lie. It sucks. It's not an alternative option, it's a last resort. Browsing isn't ideal on it and if you're shaking your head in dismay, then you're lying to yourself. Come on, be honest, it's only acceptable. It's acceptable when you're at a Best Buy and you wonder to yourself if you can get it cheaper at Amazon. It's acceptable when you and your friends make an impromptu decision to go see Dear John and you need check movie times. But as the go-to device for web browsing? Nah! The iPad has more potential for that spot.

And this is the last thing that super-excites me about the iPad is the prospect of how it could revolutionize unrelated industries. Imagine a hospital where every patient has an iPad in front of them. When the doctor comes in to check on them, he can instantly pull up the patient's medical history, see any notes the nurse has for him, and maybe even prescribe medication for the patient on the spot! And yea, I use the article 'he' because women's brains are too small for them to be doctors. Duh!

Let's take it to another industry. A person who runs a warehouse full of products can use the iPad to keep all his shit in order. Yea, sure, there are products that exist now that could perform some of the same tasks I just mentioned, but the iPad could make it a standard. I mean, seriously, the world of Mass Effect can be one step closer! Did you SEE all the iPad-looking thingies they used in the ME2?!

"But why not just get a labtop?! You can do SO MUCH MORE WITH IT!" True. But let's face it, a good chunk of America only use computers to go online and do word processing. If I'm going to edit a film or fuck around on Photoshop, I'm going to go to a computer. But for mindless web browsing? I can see myself just sunk in a couch fucking around on the Internet while I got the TV on.

Everyone's waiting for Apple's big failure. But hey, Apple already had a flop in the past three years: Apple TV. Bottom line is this, I'm pretty sure once everyone gets their hand on the iPad, all their skepticism about it will be kicked out the door. As for me? Well, its true test is whether or not it can convince me digital novels are a good idea. Aside from that, I'm pretty much got preemptive wood for this thing. Come this weekend, I'll probably give you my review!

If I was a robot, I'd have sex with both of these things.

This Ship Is Taking Me Far Away

2010-03-04T07:05:00.003-05:00

Do dreams lie or tell the truth?!

One of the bonuses of having ample amounts of sleep is the luxury of having dreams that you can remember. If my slumber is cut short, then I can't remember shit. Lately though, my dreams have been... well, not fantastical. Most of them have been rooted in reality, and that's a goddamn waste of a dream.

During that two or three week period where I went out to the clubs every Friday and Saturday, my dreams ended up just being extensions of the night. In one instance, it was pretty much the same crowd I was with, just in a new setting. Granted, the new setting was, like, Austria or Germany, but we didn't fight any Nazis... just kept partying.

As for nightmares, well, roaches are the only ones that rock me awake now. But it's not even GIANT roaches or zombie roaches... it's just REGULAR SIZED ROACHES! The last one I had where I woke up in a yell was when someone picked up a REGULAR SIZED ROACH and threw it at me. Yea. Super lame. I also have a bunch of horrific dreams where things on my head fuck up. Like, my teeth all fall out, or my teeth have weird holes in them, or my hair starts falling out...

Also, the other day I had a dream where I reacted not so fondly to a certain situation. Now, that reaction is contradictory to how I would react had that situation played out IRL... or is it? Am I lying to myself in the waken world?! How much truth is there in my subconscious?!

Look, all I'm saying is this, why the hell am I wasting my goddamn dreams on realistic situations in somewhat-fantastical settings? I keep talking about how I'm going to dream about riding dragons and killing robots... BUT THAT DREAM HASN'T HAPPENED YET! Do I have to subconsciously think about it?! I don't want my dreams to be manifestations of my feelings! I WANT TO FIGHT A FORT OF FOUR-ARMED GRIZZLY BEARS WITH MY BARE HANDS!!!

Slap another pair of arms of these things and I will shotgun blast each one in the face... with love! JK, it'll be bullets.

Dodson, We Got Dodson Here!!

2010-03-01T01:35:00.010-05:00

Fact: Undisclosed Desires kicks a million billion more asses when heard played live.

So I went to my first REAL concert this past weekend (Sorry, Ladytron, your concert kind of sucked). I've stated in the past, 90% of Muse's songs makes me want to throw on a chain mail, jump on my gallant steed, and go slay some two headed dragons with an axe shaped like a giant dong. The concert was nothing short of amazing. In fact, it was so good, I'm seriously considering a road trip to Nashville just to see them again.

Anyway, so it's come to my attention that there's been an influx of Muse fans because of the Twilight movie. No one hates this more than my sister. Seriously, the venom she spewed out of her mouth about these teen girls would make an angel weep.

We had seats in the front row of the balcony, and when Muse revealed themselves and started jamming Uprising... our section was the only one that didn't collectively stand up. In fact, the people that DID stand up in our section (my sister, my brother, and I and this couple) ended up bonding because we were the only awesome people in a section of lame asses. Not standing up in a Muse concert is like not wanting to hang yourself at a Nickelback concert! Ridiculous!

But! The moment that Super Massive Blackholes (the song from Twilight) started playing, three girls in our row popped out of their seats and started going nuts. My sister turns her head and stares at them with disdain and extreme prejudice. Honestly, if you know my sister, you know she's a fairly calm girl. But the look in her eyes when she realized our section might be comprised of Twilight fans... well, let's just say if my sister was a dinosaur that spit acid, then these fans would be Dennis Nedry.

It didn't matter, though. Because the Shiehs rocked the FUCK out of that concert!

DINO DNA~~~

PAH-PAH-PAH POKER FACE!

2010-02-17T20:48:00.009-05:00

I mean, I never really gave too many shits about it, but I'm not going to lie... I was curious. How could an accusation of this caliber be thrown into the wind and then the person it's about not respond to it? Like, Rod Stewart still hasn't denied that Pumping-Semen-From-His-Stomach Story yet, has he? Well anyway, so it seems like the rumors of Lady Gaga sportin' both a wiener and a vag can be laid to rest.

Yup, that's evidence enough for me. I mean, I probably won't be able to eat the skin off a grilled chicken for a month or two, but it was worth it to know the truth.

You'll notice that I haven't mentioned anything about my weight in the last few entries. That's because I've been totally shedding some pounds! Hell yea! I'm not saying that I've got a chiseled body or anything, but I am saying that feeling myself up is an absolute joy. Whereas before, feeling myself up felt like I was trying to wrestle with the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, now, I'm just gauging my progress. I mean, the shitty part is that you still can't SEE the progress. But that'll change with New Year Resolution 2.0 kicking in! Usually NYR 2.0 is a fail-safe for when I fail miserably at the resolutions made in the regular new year. Seeing how Chinese New Year is only around the corner, it was always the best opportunity for a do-over. This year, though, no do-overs! I'm going to go more hardcore! Yea, that's right, I'm going to get myself sexy for Spring! When the first flower ejaculates its pollen and has it stick onto a pistil (that's how flower fucking works, right?), it's totally ON!

There's no reason for this picture to accompany this post except for the fact that it absolutely cracks me up.

Super Action Fun Time Blog Entry!

2010-02-08T03:54:00.011-05:00

Word of warning, this is probably going to be the most mushy entry this blog will ever see. It will probably be devoid of humor and merriment. The title of this blog entry is the most exciting thing about it. Soooo, you should probably look away! With that...

I'm going to be 25 soon.

I don't think there's a magical age when you're suddenly mature and able to carry the burden of the world on your shoulders. It's different for everyone. Hopefully for me, it's when that clock hits midnight and I turn 25. I mean, I'm not saying all of a sudden I'll be sagely and hold the answers to all aspects of life. Let's face it, anyone who thinks that is a turd trying to pass themselves off as a polished diamond. Multiply that analogy by a thousand to people who think that when they're still in their twenties.

At this point, a developing fear is that I'll be behind the curve when it comes to growing up. I most certainly cherish that I still retain my childhood sense of wonder. But the maturity to feel completely comfortable in my own skin and to not be cynical... well, I fear I'll never grow out of that. Past insecurities are still lingering around... and that's not the best mix for my borderline narcissistic esteem. To operate on the opposite end of this spectrum is straight-up fucking weird. I can feel like the fucking king of the world, but be held back by the most insignificant insecurity.

Also, a major rift that tore my metaphorical fabric of space and time was the destruction of my dreams of moving to Taipei. To be honest, I don't think I've fully recovered from that. I'm still living life on tilt. That situation wasn't as simple as, "Hop on a plane and rock'n roll through the Pacific until I hit that beautiful island." Clashing priorities in my life put me in ruins for a very, very long time. Seriously, remember the Great Boxer Summer of 2k8 when all I was only in my boxers for most of the day?

So, with all my experiences from the past five years coalescing into where I currently stand, am I the man who I envisioned that I'd be when I was 8? When I was 13? When I was 18? When I was 23? Even if I graded myself on a generous curve, I don't think I could say 'yes' in any of the circumstances. In the end, how could I expect things of others when I myself haven't met my own expectations?

I mean, that doesn't necessarily bum me out, though. I'm still proud of what I've become. And while certain features and characteristics didn't turn out the way I hoped, you know, I'll learn to live with it. Whether or not I can eliminate any sort of personality shortcomings remain to be seen, I guess. But I'm optimistic. Life is too fucking great and beautiful to be wasting it self-doubting yourself or being trapped in a state of depression? I've always championed that motto, but lately, it's been slipping my mind. But no more.

There's never any fresh starts in life, just alternate routes and winding roads that will take you where you eventually need to be.

Yup, Another Poo-Related Entry

2010-02-06T16:42:00.000-05:00

There are two things I need to do when I go potty: be COMPLETELY NAKED and have something to read. Since I don't currently have any subscriptions to magazines, I've been pretty skimp on the reading material. I've read the 10th Anniversary Calvin & Hobbes book so many times it's ridiculous... not that there's anything wrong with that.

Anyway, so the other day, I was scouring through my bother's closet when I came upon a jackpot of shitting-reading material. Namely, the WHOLE Where's Waldo series! AWESOME! Already anticipating a date with the toilet, I grabbed one of the books and sat myself down for both an expelling and enlightening good time. The way I figure, hey, each doo-doo session will be the length of the time it takes to find Waldo. I cracked open the book, ready to begin my search when something went horribly awry.

This book was from my childhood. Seven Year-Old JoE decided that, when he found Waldo... he would circle him. Not only that, Seven Year-Old JoE was SO smart, he decided to take a piece of scotch tape and TAPE IT over where Waldo is, in case the circling with a glitter pen wasn't clear enough. In a sense, he was making the Where's Waldo books blind-readers friendly. I mean, that's pretty brilliant if you ask me. Anyway, I flipped through every page, seeing that all the fun had been ruined by Seven Year-Old JoE. I was pretty bummed.

But what am I going to do, slap a flux capacitor to my Camry and gun it to 88 and travel back in time to tell my Seven Year-Old self not to mark on the Waldo books? NO! Of course not! It's a fucking time machine! I'd go to the future, get a bunch of lasers, then travel to the past, strap the lasers on some dinosaurs, and have dinosaur-laser battles!

No More!

2010-02-04T05:53:00.000-05:00

Against my better judgement, I had two trays of Bagel Bites. But that shit is delicious! No mere mortal could've concocted this blend of Jew food and Italian delight! Nay, it was a gift from the Heavens! If I'm doing my math correctly, I took down 24 pieces of this ethereal snack within the course of thirty minutes. To my defense, however, I had only eaten, like, three pieces of shrimp and a clementine the whole day. But, what? I'm going to watch a couple of episodes of How I Met Your Mother and Modern Family and NOT eat some Bagel Bites?

Just now, while writing this, I realized that not only is this a blog for me to mind-vomit all over, but it also acts as a confessional. I mean, I could've done just fine without telling the world I devoured a classroom's worth of Bagel Bites. But NO! I insisted on telling the world of my gluttonous sin. I was the artist who held the brush that painted a picture of myself being a tremendous fat ass! I'm the ringleader to my own one-man circus!

Having said all that, I'm feeling pretty goddamn healthy. My spare tires are slowly going away and I feel the chiseled body underneath the fat is ready to erupt to the surface for the world to see. So yea, there's your update on my New Year's Resolution.

If you know why this picture is accompanying this post... then you are a huge nerd!

You Left Me Speechless, So Speechless

2010-02-02T04:38:00.001-05:00

Alright, let's get things back to normal around here. It's been awhile since I've just blogged about completely random stuff. I mean, I had written an entry about how awesome that dish-detergent-moisturizer product form Dawn and Olay was, but I felt like that entry did not match the legacy of fine blogging that this blog possesses. Yes, that's right, I'm including all the poop and puke stories.

Okay, so I've only got one thing I want to get off my chest. Seriously, I like Taylor Swift. I was on Team Swift when Kanye got all Birth of a Nation on her at the MTV Awards. But Best Album of the Year when Lady Gaga was also nominated? BLASPHEMY! But, seriously, I feel like King Lear here. If a Gaga song was followed by a Swift song on the radio, it was a good day. But now, I have some animosity towards Swift. Come on! She sucks live! Seriously, my voice is more beautiful when singing You Belong With Me! Did you SEE Gaga's performance with Elton John? Did you?! That performance is a straight man's equivalent of Jessica Alba and Angelina Jolie singing Straight Up naked. And by singing Straight Up, I meant lezzing out.

Also, I'm not going to lie, sometimes I feel like Swift needs a punch to the face. She's like a puppy that knows she's adorable so she'll shit all over your carpet and know she won't get punished. But, hey, maybe I'm just being a hater here. All I'm saying is, Gaga puts on fucking wicked live performances and has one of the best albums of all time. At first, I was abhorred by Kanye's boorish behavior (Oh yea, that's right, I just whipped out two vocab words in one sentence), but honestly, I'm glad he did that now. BEST ALBUM MY ASS!

I wonder how she tucks her boners in this dress.

Top Ten Movies 2k9!

2010-01-29T19:15:00.007-05:00

Finally, it's here. The Top Ten Films of 2009! In the past, I didn't really put too much thought into my list until the top three, but this year, I actually put in some effort to make the whole list a little more well-rounded. I mean, come on, do you think The Lake House was REALLY my number ten for whatever year it came out? Of course not! Although the movie was super awesome, I haven't seen it more than once. So yea, a big credential for this year is how the film fares during repeated viewings. But being awesome is still the most important part. Enough with this boring crap, ON TO THE LIST!

"This list is already stupid!" you scream. Look, they could've made this movie horrible by trying to root it in reality. The Joes could've been shooting bullets instead of blue lasers, but they didn't. Stephen Sommers took the physics and technology of the cartoon world and made it real. The movie is loud, dumb, silly, and super awesome. Not to mention, it boasted the second highest off-screen kill count of the year (remember that car chase through Paris? That must've killed hundreds of innocent people)!

I know I said re-watchability was a factor in my picks. While I would never watch this film again, it did its job in my one viewing. The things that happen to Precious are absolutely tragic. Twenty minutes in, you already want to tell Doraemon to pull out that tool that lets you pull things out of T.V.s so you could pull Precious out and make her life better. But then you go, "Wait, can she fit through this T.V. screen?" On top of the drama, the cast just nails the performances. And man, Mo'Nique, seriously, if there was ever anyone so deserving of all the acting accolades out there... it's her. I could go on and on, but I'll just say, you're an idiot if you don't watch this movie.

An awesome political farce. Forgoing the stamp of awkward situational comedy that a majority of British comedies don, this big screen continuation of The Thick of It retains its brash, vulgar, and witty brand of humor. If the political undertones don't tickle your fancy, at least you can see what the My Girl chick looks like when she's all grown up. I'll show her MY seafood, if you know what I'm sayin'! I'm talking about my penis.

Tarantino's still on the mark with his dialogue and directing flare, but it's his mastery of tension that blows my mind. Each of the chapters slowly build up like a balloon being filled with air. Eventually, the balloon can hold no more, and it explodes in a flash of brutal violence. Here's to hoping for Tarantino tackling another historic flick!

Oh, what could've been of Blomkamp's Halo, District 9 is one hell of a freshman film. Yea, sure, the videogame-calibur action and explode-to-a-pulp violence is fun and all, but it's Sharlto Copley's portrayal as the film's hapless protagonist that deserves the most attention. Please, Blomkamp, don't pull a Kurt Wimmer and give us a shitty second film!

Usually the tears don't start flowing until the last few minutes of a Pixar movie, but Pete Docter totally tugged on my heart strings in the first ten minutes. Aside from the emotional stuff, this is probably the best action-adventure flick to feature seniors since Space Cowboys!

It's safe to say that this was my most anticipated film of the year. And while the altercation to the ending doesn't really make much sense, the film as a whole is a wonderful adaptation of the comic. It retains the spirit of the original, emulates Gibbon's technicolor spectacle, and tops it off with Zack Snyder's celluloid panache. If Alan Moore wasn't such a poopy face, he'd know that Snyder did his work some justice. Too bad he's a HUGE poopy face.

I've been seeing some haters emerge online about this film, specifically about its wins for Best Comedy in the Awards Season. I say this with full confidence: The Hangover is a modern classic that will stand next to other comedic greats like Caddyshack and Animal House. And at its core, it's a fantastically constructed mystery, even if the ending isn't as cathartic as one would hope. Also, it's funny as shit.

I'm not the most ardent Star Trek fan, but I've seen all the movies and enjoyed them in varying degrees. Abrahams has stated that he's not a hardcore fan either, but man, he took the franchise and turned it into something wicked awesome. Look, bitch about how this flick lacked any political clout like the other installments. But really, can you say that Abrahams' version wasn't extremely entertaining? Also, Zoe Saldana is super hot.

Okay, since I never got around to making an entry about it, I'm going to vomit it here: The fuck was up with all the haters? Honestly, I can understand the haters for Titanic before it came out. Whatever, it was a James Cameron movie without robots and explosions. But Avatar, come on! It didn't just have robots and explosions... IT ALSO HAD DRAGONS AND SMURFS! Last time I checked my Agenda Book's equation page, it said that robots + explosions + dragons + smurfs = pure awesome. Well, needless to say, the movie came out and Cameron bitch-slapped the fuck out of everyone's faces. The fact that he took the first hour to really submerge the audience into the world's lore is amazing. Also, the fact that he made me question my boners was pretty amazing, too. I mean, I know that blue chick is Zoe Saldana, and I usually boner for Zoe Saldana, but in this film, my boner got super confused. Even to this day, I'm not sure if it's okay to boner about her in this flick.

Top Ten Games 2k9!

2009-12-29T10:21:00.001-05:00

Here's my top ten games of the year! Honestly, if you're allergic to nerd shit, look away... because, I nerd the fuck out here. It's not even slightly humorous in the descriptions, it's just hard-nerd shit.

I missed this boat during the NES and SNES days, but I more than made up for it by devouring the Wii version. I mean, technically, aside from a graphical facelift, nothing's really changed in the twenty years since the original's release. But that's just a testament to how awesome the gameplay is.

A colosseum of werewolves being mowed down by the machine guns on a helicopter right after a ninja just fucked up a super werewolf. I know, how could another game possibly top this? While having an inferior combat system compared to Ninja Gaiden II and marred with a shit-ton of slightly bearable QTEs, Ninja Blade more than makes up for it by overdosing the player in absurd and over-the-top situations.

Arkham Aslyum is the Dark Knight of Batman games. Aside from the bone-crunching combat, the detective and stealth elements of the game really drive the Batman experience home. Also, the Scarecrow segments give me promise that a new Nightmare on Elm Street game could be AWESOME. Get on that shit!

I also missed the Metroid boat during the NES and SNES days. The first Metroid I ever played was the first installment of the Prime series. That said the appreciation for Shadow Complex was not lost on me. 2D's been slowly making a comeback, and I think Shadow Complex is the first uppercut in a series of light jabs. Finger's-crossed that the golden age of 2D gaming is here!

The Ratchet and Clank series may offer only a marginal update with each installment, but it's tough to fault it when the package is so solid. Out of all the games on the market now, the Ratchet series is the only one that I can truly say captures the essence of an animated film. While the writing department is a bit lacking this time around, the lush visuals, solid combat, and terrific sound design continue to shine.

Why so many haters? People who complain about this game's campaign being nothing more than loud explosions and devoid of human emotion and a sweeping story need to check out the first one again. Also, what's up with the, "This game is nothing but twists!" bullshit? And the "No Russian" stage being called nothing but a stage made for shock value? Not only does it set the stage for THE REST OF THE FUCKING GAME, it also instills this uncanny hatred for the villain for forcing you to do something that you thought the good would outweigh the bad, but only to get shot in the face at the end. Alas, all these complainers continue to play the shit out of multiplayer, so...

A new 2D Mario? Awesome! Unlike Wario's 2D outing last year, the level design in this game is just flawless. No challenge is arbitrary, but rather, a result of the platform design. You don't have to backtrack through stages or play a stage more than once just to advance in the world (secrets excluded). While I haven't experienced the 4-player mayhem for myself, I figure it wouldn't be unlike the Chip 'n Dale days.

Remember when all the black gamer's and white-guilt-suffering white gamer's were calling this game racist? Remember the stupid spiel N'Gai Croal was vomiting out of his heart-of-darkness of a mouth? No? Yea, because it's all stupid bullshit. Resident Evil 5 was like a Michael Bay game; loud, dumb, but always exhilarating. The game's co-op campaign is one of the best, and to play it without a partner is an absolute crime!

To say I was sucked into this game would be an understatement. While the graphics were pretty putrid and the gameplay could become extremely wonky, the writing completely entranced me. Not to sound like a huge nerd, but I definitely got into the role-playing mode. To think, this is only a mere appetizer to Mass Effect 2's main course.

Mmmm, do you taste that? That's what a perfect game tastes like. Truly making the first look like nothing more than a mere tech demo, Assassin's Creed 2 is flawless. If you asked me what faults I have with this game, I'd have a hell of a time coming up with one. It's not 200 hours of gameplay? The game doesn't come with a personal Doraemon? Honestly, I can find nothing. With sandbox games, trying to tune down your notoriety is always a pain in the ass. With AC2, it's an absolutely joy to murder some guards and make them chase you through the city while you hop around collecting posters to set your notoriety back at 0. I'm ready for more!

Top Ten Albums 2k9!

2009-12-20T10:58:00.001-05:00

It's December. You know what that means... TOP 10 LISTS! I know you're all clamoring for my top picks in film and video games... but this year, I'm going to add a little something else to the mix. Yea, that's right, my Top 10 Albums of the year! If you're a hipster or douche faggot, I implore you to continue reading. My picks will shatter your world and throw you into a never-ending spiral of frustration, anger, and douche faggotry.

Before I dive in, the qualification for this list is that the album be released in the U.S. in 2009. Sorry, Taylor Swift. I wanted to add you but couldn't. Also, I'm not ranking these, they're in alphabetical order by artist name. Anyway, let's begin!

Much like Fur and Gold, Two Suns is haunting, somber, and beautiful. When I jam this album, I lay down, close my eyes, and let the songs take me off to where the mind pleases. Yes, I know. It's incredibly gay.

If Mos Def's The Ecstatic is Hamlet, then The Blueprint 3 is Fortinbras, coming to the scene with confidence and fucking people's shit up. Jay-Z basically whips his dick out, slams it on the table, and lists all the reasons why he's the Emperor of Hip-Hop.

Like the film, the soundtrack evokes a sense of childhood, but through an adult perspective. Sure, a good number of the songs are backed by the chorus of kids, but it's no Teletubbies sing-along CD. I'll probably mention more about the soundtrack in the Top 10 Films of 2k9 List, SPOILER ALERT~~

I'm not going to lie, I was not a Lady GaGa fan earlier this year. Half of Poker Face sounded like a hippo having an abortion. But, at some point between rocking out to Just Dance and singing along with Paparazzi, I developed an appreciation for GaGa. The process was not unlike when I became a fan of Justin Timberlake. Anyway, now, I'm a believer in GaGa and her new album is the bee's knees. And yes, I totally dig Poker Face now (due to Cartmans rendition).

Honestly, if you ignore the lyrics, the album sounds like it's been made from unicorns and rainbows. But the candy-sweet tunes are greatly offset by the sometimes brash, sometimes crude, always sharp lyrics. Seriously, this is the album equivalent of hiding razor blades in candy.

Oh man. This album doubles as a provider of hilarious good times and thumping club beats. Seriously, if I traveled back in time and told myself that there would be songs that make people want to rotflskate AND want to gyrate their hips, my past self would've said, "Future Me, what the fuck happened to you? AND IMPOSSIBLE! LAUGH AND WANT TO DANCE?!" To which I would've responded, "Hey, is it gay if we jerk each other off?"

Muse operates on two modes: slow tunes that crescendo into ballads and epic rock-out anthems. While I enjoy the slow tunes, it's the fucking epic anthems that get me going. No other band has provided more songs that make me want to drive super fast, fight people in slow motion, run away from explosions, jump off helicopters while shooting machine guns, fight an army of robots, or strap into a mech and fight a grizzly bear. Seriously, if the world ever suffered an apocalyptic event that forced the survivors to fight for their lives... Muse's discography would be the soundtrack.

I'm just going to quote Jibs on this one: "There's crunchy jams." While not fantastically original or wildly inventive, these kids from the New York indie scene get the job done. Honestly, I neglect the lyrics and just enjoy the sugar-sweet package. They could be singing about the Holocaust, I wouldn't know, I'm just busy bobbing my head to it.

I loved the first two albums from The Sounds. LOVED. And while I do love this one, there is definitely something off about the lyrics this time around. Something off in that, most of the lyrics are really shitty. While I could sing along to the first two albums from beginning to end, there's a few songs here that I just straight up skip. Let a professional do the writin' next time, yea?

Man, writing about why a particular album is your favorite is kind of tough. I'm going to make this one short and sweet: It has songs I like and I feel that Heads Will Roll is a song about werewolves! The end!

Before I close this off, I just want to throw some nods to awesome singles that weren't accompanied by awesome albums:

Right Round (Flo-Rida): Largely due to The Hangover, this song was one of the personal soundtracks to the spectacular Vegas trip this year.

Turnin' Me On (Keri Hilson): I super want to bang her and she sings good on this song. Reason enough for me!

Dat New New - Viking Remix, Day and Night - Crookers Remix, Make Her Say (Kid Cudi): Aside from Make Her Say, I prefer the remixed versions over the originals on his album.

Party in the U.S.A. (Miley Cyrus): Awesome beat. Awesome lyrics. What more can you ask for?!

Sorry Sorry (Super Junior): Almost ruined by every Asian who has functional legs and arms (especially Asian frats), this Korean pop song comes off as incredibly gay. But after just two listens, it will burrow into your skull and NEVER leave. You have no choice but to love it!

Supergirl (Super Junior M): There really isn't any other explanation as to why I like this song other than the fact that I'm super gay.

She-Wolf (Shakira): Good song. Stupid video. Needed more werewolves. Also, Atlanta radio... get hip and play this already.

Pants. Pants. Pants.

2009-12-01T17:26:00.000-05:00

I've made a decree recently, one I've made on more than one occasion. Before the onset of every successful weight-loss regime that I've triumphed with, I always say, "No more fast food!" This usually is proceeded by one, relative-final gorge on McD's. For awhile now I've wanted to write about how, probably more than any other food item, the deliciousness is driven purely by nostalgia. As "diverse" as the menu is, it ALWASY smells the same when concealed in the bag. The Fish Fillet and the Big Mac emits that same McDonald's smell. it's fucking bizarre.

So I made that decree recently. Also, I usually start these diets on a Sunday or the first day of a month. Well, this past year, I've been failin' like Palin. They need a new word to describe the ferocity I've devoured McDonald's in the past six months. It's vile, it's disgusting, and it's shameful. But I'll be damned if it wasn't delicious.

Anyway, I wake up from a nap today to my mom and lil bro coming back. They picked up some Mickey Dee's! Instantly, I was conflicted. On one hand, I had officially started my diet, on the other hand, I'm not going to NOT eat McD's that my mom bought me! It's like all those time as a child when mommy comes home from shopping or what not, and surprises us with Happy Meals! I sat at the table, making the hardest decision I've had to make in the past month (Yea, that's right, the HARDEST).

All these memories started to flood back. I couldn't do it. I had conceded my sandwich to my bro, but no, at the last minute, I intercepted the burger from his hands and took a bite. It felt right. I mean, immediately after, I told my mom to refrain from buying me anymore fast food. But yea, I can't help but remember all the little memories that are tied to McD's for me.

I remember this one time, my dad took my sister and I to see TMNT III. He had to hit the ATM before we got to the theater, but due to some slow-ass black dude at the machine, we didn't make it to the movie. So, my pops bought my sister and I Happy Meals to make up for it. The toys we got were these double-sided Looney Toon Vehicles.

Another tale was me getting picked up from Summer Camp with a Value Meal waiting for me. It was my first Value Meal. It was a Big Mac, fries, and a Jurassic Park-themed cup. It was Dr. Ellie being attacked by raptors, and it was awesome as shit.

Even older tales date back to when I was about five or six. The times where they had Hot Wheels and Barbie toys for girls and boys, the time when I got the Mario toys during out vacation to Washington D.C. and the subway system there had Goodfellas posters plastered everywhere.

So, what's this all mean? I'm not going to get my kids hooked on the whole McD thing. I'm going to make sure there's absolutely no sense of nostalgia tied to it. It's dangerous! I could handle it, but who knows if the fragile youth of the next generation can! I think if they ever ask for it, I'm going to put some laxatives in the burgers, and as they're crying in the bathroom from the poop abortion, I'll say, "See? McDonald's is bad for you."

I mean, chances are, probably not. But you know, it's the thought that counts.

宵夜！宵夜！宵夜！

2009-09-26T07:40:00.000-04:00

My body was exhausted, beat, DONE for the day. I was too tired to even bother to just fart around. At around 9:30, I crashed. Three and a half hours later... BOOM. I woke up. I spent the next few hours watching the latest Project Runway (They kicked Ramone? Seriously?!) and a handful of 康熙来了episodes. Now it's almost 5 and I'm fucking WIRED. Completely unable to sleep! What the hell?! So, I guess I'll just amuse myself by talking about the highlight of my day.

The 99 Ranch Market doesn't exactly bring up the best image in my head. When I think of the 99 Ranch Market, I think of a dirty, smelly, all-out-gross supermarket stuck in the middle of Chamblee, GA. A place where the shit they sell isn't always fresh and, seriously, every aisle smells like raw fish vagina.

I know I had teased at this entry being about 牛肉麵 in San Diego. Well, here's the deal with San Diego: the Chinese food here sucks a dick. I'm not kidding. Since I've been living on my own for the past year, there's been a serious drought of Chinese food in my life. I went from eating that stuff every day to making it an EVENT. Like, I make a two hour drives to L.A. just to get my fix.

You'd think that with L.A. so close, there'd be more Chinese people trickling down to the south and opening bitchin' restaurants. NOPE! Every single genuine Chinese cuisine I've been to here has ranged from being crappy to subpar. It's absolutely disappointing. I even went and found the blog of a guy who reviews Chinese restaurants in San Diego. It was from that blog that I supposedly had the best 牛肉麵 that San Diego had to offer. Spoiler alert: that shit sucked.

Anyway, so yea, the 99 Ranch Market. Today, on the drive home, I decided at the last possible second to take an exit and search for it. Eventually, I got myself to its parking lot. Shockingly, the place was super clean! I mean, it was clean like an American supermarket! The floor was actually sparkling! I felt like a five year-old at Toys R Us! I didn't venture over to the produce department, but at no point did the stench of raw fish assault my olfactory senses. Win!

So yea, it was totally awesome. The end.

Yup, Still Into Black Chicks

2009-09-21T04:47:00.000-04:00

You know what sucks? When you think your body is saying, "Hey, I'm ready for some sleep!" at 9 p.m. and you go, "Um, I don't know, body. It's kind of early. Don't you think we should hold off a bit longer?" and your body is all, "No, motherfucker! I'm tired NOW!" and you're all like, "Fine, Veruca Salt." and your body is like, "WHAT?!" and you're like, "Nothing." and then you totally go to s!eep... but about two hours later, you wake up at 11:30 p.m. and realize your body tricked you into taking a nap and now it's 2:00 a.m. and you can't fall asleep! I hate it!

Anyway, that preface really has nothing to do with what I want to post about in this entry. As I've stated before, this blog is more for me than others. If you find that reading this blog worthy of your time, awesome. But really, I write in this thing to chronicle my awesome life. You're just here for part of the ride. If you're saying, "What a narcissist!" then, yea, you're right. It's a goddamn blog about ME written by ME! Hello?! Duh?! Okay?!

So there's an event that happened about three to four years ago that suddenly sprouted in my mind today and gave me a good chuckle. I never wrote about on the blog, and seeing how I haven't thought about it in a minute, I'm going to commit it to this blog so I'll NEVER forget it!

Back during my first few months at Pearl, there was this guy name Al. I don't know his last name but I know he was Korean so let's call him Al Kim Lee Park. So Al Kim Lee Park would talk to me and Alex about the other job he had. He told us he was making mad bank and that they were hiring and offered us jobs. Sounded good! So one day after work, Alex, moi, Amie Ha, and Al Kim Lee Park decided to hit up Chili's, so that he could hash out just what it was he does.

Now, I can't really recall what the exact words were, but he basically described a pyramid scheme. After he was finished, not wanting to be an ass and straight up accusing him of being involved in a pyramid scheme, I decided to respond as politely as I could without being too ambiguous about what I was implying.

"Um, the way you describe the work flow ... it sounds like a pyramid."

His eyes light up and he smiles. "EXACTLY! Just like that!"

That's when I realized Al Kim Park Lee was an idiot. So after he wraps it up, he busts out his closing line; "Hey, do you want a new car? Well, if you work with me, be careful of what you wish for... because it just might come true." No joke. Almost a word for word.

Turns out, you had to pay about 500 bucks for fees and classes or whatever. I have no tolerance for idiots and swindlers, so I straight up offered him the most bullshit excuse I could think of.

"Meh, that's the price of a Playstation 3! I have to get a PS3 so I can't do this. Sorry!"

Of course, he spent the rest of the dinner trying to convince me that the 500 dollar investment would lead to me being able to buy loads of PS3s, but I was too busy eating some delicious Chili's to listen to his bullshit. It just kind of blows my mind that I called out someone's ploy as a pyramid scheme and he not only agreed... but he continued to try and recruit me.

Anyway, on to round three of trying to fall asleep!

Next Entry: Beef Noodle Soup?!?

Terran Up the Night!

2009-08-25T08:05:00.001-04:00

Alright, I'm about to nerd the fuck out, so non-nerds, please look away... because all the gay might make you barf.

This past weekend I went to Blizzcon and, man, let me just say, it was a fucking blast. Even though the event only spanned two days, there's a clusterfuck of stories to jive about. From that Battlestar chick being announced as the voice of Kerrigan to just how mind-numbingly awesome Starcraft II is, from the exhilarating final matches of Starcraft to the soul-sucking vortex of an announcement that was Cataclysm, from Ozzy rocking the fuck out to seeing Jo Garcia in the flesh, Blizzcon 2009 was spectacular.

Out of all the possible tales to tell, I've settled on one.

So on Saturday, I woke up extra early so I could get my ass from San Diego to Anaheim for the Con. I hadn't brought an extra set of clothes so I made a long trip back to my apartment after Friday. Anyway, the thing about me is, if I don't get enough sleep and I have a hearty breakfast... well, my stomach likes to violently protest.

When I arrived on Saturday, I joined some new friends at the Hilton for a bad ass breakfast buffet. Unknowing to me, a shit storm was brewing under all the delicious. Anyway, after that, we headed into the Con.

After two games of Starcraft II, I decided to sit in on a panel to let my tummy rest. Before I could even get comfortable, my stomach launched a shit missile to my anus. I tried the "shift-your-body-a-bit-to-make-yourself-comfortable-and-not-have-to-shit" maneuver, but no dice, the Cosbys wanted out NOW.

I blasted up from my seat and dashed toward the exit. Now, every hall had its own bathroom right outside. I exploded out the doors and looked to my left: the men's room. Seeing how Blizzcon was populated by a healthy population of pale fatties, if any of them had to do their deed, they would've opted for the closest bathroom... which was the one I was staring at. I wasn't about to submit my nose to an aroma holocaust.

Instead of taking the bathroom less than ten feet away, I decided to continue my mad dash to the bathroom on a whole other floor.

I got on the escalator going to the basement area. It was at this moment that I received a pleasant surprise. Gabe Newell, the man behind the Half-Life series and Valve, was in front of me! Dude's not nearly as fat as you think!

Anyway, I tried to be a gentlemen by not sprinting to the bathroom, but my poo factory was about to have a nuclear meltdown. The power walk I did would've put housewives around the nation to shame. At the same time, I was so jazzed about Gabe Newell that I kept looking back at him.

With a Blizzcon program tucked under my arm and a tightened sphincter that resulted in an awkward power walk, Gabe Newell knew very well what I was going to do. With his eyes, he said to me, "Hey, good luck, friend." With my eyes I said, "Hey! Thanks! When's Half-Life 2: Episode 3 coming out?!" and he responded with his eyes, "When it's ready." and I replied by raising an eyebrow, saying, "Hey, good answer!"

When I hit the bathroom, I was glad... nay, ecstatic... that it smelled of fresh potpourri. I carefully chose out the right bathroom stall and prepared the toilet by covering the seat with three protective layers of paper. Then, I went to town, and oh, it was glorious.

I'd say it was my first pleasant public shit. In fact, it was so pleasant, I felt like I had to call someone to share the great news. Alas, all the people in my contacts that wouldn't have hung up in disgust didn't pick up. Anyway, yea, it was like a zerg rush out of my butt.

Even shitting at Blizzcon was a blast! Blizzcon 2010, consider me RSVP'ed!

"Nah-ah! I listened to three songs!

Like McAdams Loves Gosling!

2009-08-14T05:48:00.001-04:00

Seeing how family members are starting to get into the whole Facebook thing, I feel like I should be more cautious with my language and content. Like, instead of saying something like, "Rachel McAdams was so hot in The Time Traveler's Wife that my boner popped a boner," I'd say something like, "Rachel McAdams is a timeless beauty and is utterly gorgeous in The Time Traveler's Wife. Or, instead of saying, "Eric Bana showed his ass, like, a million times in the movie and I totally wanted to take a bite out of it like it was a Georgia Peach," I'd say something like, "Wow, Eric Bana's admirable wardrobe in the film, paired with his incredible physique, is absolutely delightful." Okay, that last example was equally gay both ways.

So I'm not really going to divulge in any plot points or critique The Time Traveler's Wife, but I have to mention something it sparked in my head. For the longest time, I've always imagined that if I got my hands on a time machine, I'd go on wild adventures. I'm talking, like, picking up Jean-Claude Van Damme and Abraham Lincoln and then traveling back in time to fight Spanish Conquistadors while riding on dinosaurs. But now that I've seen the film, you know, I fully believe that I'd travel back in time to visit my family.

I'd go back and see what my parents were like around my age (don't worry, I would NOT play at their Enchantment Under the Sea dance), visit my oldest ancestor, see what the Shieh house was like back thousands of years ago, see my dad and mom and their respective families as children, revisit past memories, and do one of the things I've thought about over and over again: to visit the grandfather I never got to meet. I don't want to get all sappy, but even though he passed away before I was born, I've dreamt about meeting him. Two years ago, I got to transfer my parent's wedding video to DVD, and for the first time, I saw my grandfather. I saw his mannerisms, his demeanor, I saw him, and maybe it doesn't qualify as getting to know him, but I felt like I was.

Obviously, I enjoyed the flick and the feelings it invoked. While it did have it's share of problems, what it had to say was a breath of fresh air. It proudly stands next to Speed 2: The Lake House as one of the best time-travel love stories... even if those are the only two time-traveling love stories. And yes, I teared up a little, so what?!

When the credits rolled on The Hulk, Eric Bana was severely disappointed by Rachel McAdam's response, or lack thereof.

An Act of Charity

2009-08-10T02:02:00.000-04:00

So today I was driving to pick myself up a bowl of teriyaki chicken when I saw this hobo sitting at the corner. Now, I've always been pretty charitable. Sure, I can be an asshole of epic proportions, but I can also be pretty darned kind. Back during the GSU days, if I actually had change in my pocket, I'd always throw the hobos a bone. AND ATLANTA HOBOS ARE THE WORSE! But, they're still the needy and if I got three bucks in my pocket, I'll throw it their way. I mean, what am I going to do with three bucks? That monetary value means nothing to me! I'd rather wipe my ass with three dollars than use it to buy a roll of toilet paper, that's how much I don't care about three bucks.

Anyway, so I decided to swing into Burger King and get the dude a Whopper Value Meal. For half-a-second, I thought to myself, "Oh no, what if this hobo doesn't eat beef or meat?" Then I remembered he was a hobo, and not only can they not afford tangible items, they also can't afford to be picky (although, some are picky as shit). Oh, while I'm on the subject, what the fuck, California? A medium Whopper Value Meal is seven bucks? Come on!

As I was getting ready to park, I saw that the hobo was on the move, so I rolled my window down and said, "Hold on a minute, sir!" I popped out my car and handed him the value meal. The guy was all smiles as I approached him. For THAT half-a-second, I thought, "What if he's worried I poisoned the food? I mean, who just buys a hobo a value meal?" But again, hobos can't afford to be picky.

I handed him the stuff and he was like "Thanks, man!" and I was like, "I hope a Whopper is okay!" and he's all like, "Yea! I been waiting for this all day!" At that moment, I was kind of taken back. Hobos usually look groggy, dirt-splattered, and gross. Beneath the dirt, this guy wasn't that bad-looking. For half-a-second, I was thinking, "What if this dude's faking being homeless?" But who'd do that?

So this next bit is what completely threw me off. As I was walking back to my car, this was pretty much the exact dialogue that transpired.

JoE: You have a good day!
Hobo: Isn't this what Iron Man wanted?
JoE: ... what?
Hobo: When he got back, isn't this the first thing he wanted?
JoE: Oh! You're right! Guess that makes you Iron Man today!
Hobo: Thanks, man!
JoE: Have a good day.

As I was pulling out of the parking spot, it hit me... has this hobo seen Iron Man? I mean, I guess he could've saved his money up to see a movie instead of getting food... or the guy wasn't homeless last year... or the guy saw the trailer for the flick at the public library (where hobos go to use the computer)... or the guy isn't homeless at all...

But whatever, assuming the guy is a legit hobo, any hobo that can make a movie reference deserves a Whopper Value Meal!

This is where that seven bucks is going? So The King can get some beach ass?

I Had Pizza!

2009-07-25T03:05:00.000-04:00

This entry shall be separated into two chapters. Yes, that's right, motherfucking chapters. Why do I feel this blog entry warrants a break in narrative normally reserved for books? Because who reads books anymore! If we don't bring the good part of books to the wonderful world of the Internet, then it will be forever lost like tears in the rain! Like how tracking during the VHS days were eradicated with the advent of the DVD! Like, when you're about to jam a tape, but it's got those weird squiggly lines running from left to right, and you'd have to fiddle with the knob to fix it? Right? Hello! Duh! Okay? Anyways, let's rock this bitch.

Chapter One: The Downside of Weight-Loss
One of the common themes of this blog is my struggle with my weight... or rather, my sexy tango with my weight. After poring through my old photos, I realized that I'm a notorious yo-yo dieter. What this means is, I'll go through phases of skinny and fat at an alarming rate. In the past, my weight loss success phases were achieved through steadier means. My diet would be more controlled, but I didn't really limit what I could stuff in my mouth. As long as I didn't eat after 8, everything was fair game.

Well, recently, I've begun another bout of weight loss. Let me tell ya, it's been successful as shit! This time around though, I've adjusted my diet from eating like a normal person to eating like a fucking vagina. I mean, I'm eating SUPER healthy and I feel great! But goddamn, sometimes I'll just be laying in bed thinking about delicious foods that I can't have. Seriously, I think about food like I think about women. It's kind of bizarre... and scary!

Anyways, so yea, the diet paired with a pretty awesome exercise regime has sped up the process... BUT! It's made loose skin a very real threat. In the past, it was never a problem. I always had a tight body. But now, there's the scary possibility of loose skin! NO! DON'T WANT!

Obviously, the course of action to take was to gouge myself on my cheat day with half-a-fuckin' pizza, half a philly cheesesteak, a whole thing of fries, and some Cold Stone ice cream. I'd feel guilty for cheating so hard... but come on, it's a counter measure against loose skin. Plus, I've been accidently eating like a vegetarian during my diet... so a day of setback ain't no thang!

Chapter Two: Comic-Con? More Like Boner-Con
I crumbled and bought a single day pass to Friday of Comic-Con 2k9. But how could I resist! Hayao Miyazaki was going to show up and there was a TMNT 25th Anniversary Retrospective! I'll cover the latter in another entry, but I have to make special mention of how awesome it was to see the legendary Miyazaki in person. Although he could only communicate to the audience through a translator, seeing his facial reactions as his senile brain was finding an answer was a treat. Dude completely hates questions. Whenever someone came up to ask him one, he'd make this hilarious jap frown, and then proceed to answer it with a one sentence response. I could jizz on and on about the Disney panel, about seeing my hero, John Lasseter, take the stage. But I should move onto stuff that's less boring.

Like hearing Denzel Washington say, "MY NIGGA!" live! It was also comforting to know that Mila Kunis, Megan Fox, and Rachel McAdams were all within 20 feet of my boner. Also, the new Nightmare on Elm Street looks absolutely spectacular. Jackie Earl Haley is THE motherfucking man in my book now. When I walked past him on the street, I kind of wanted to beat him over the head, drag him into my van, and throw him into my basement. I don't know what I'd do with him when I got him down there... since I have no sexual attraction to him nor have any desire to brutally torture him... but I'd do it. Just like I would that kid from Where the Wild Things Are, the footage of which had my tear ducts acting up.

Epilogue
Hmm... in retrospect, maybe I should've made this two entries... because there's more stories... especially about Megan Fox... Hmmmmmm........

FACT: Megan Fox is six million times more attractive in person.

I Want Pizza!

2009-07-19T21:53:00.000-04:00

I hate to admit it, but I've become one of those people who work for the weekends.

"What's wrong with that, JoE?" Um, like, so many things!

If I'm not careful, I could end up like almost everyone else: trapped running on the nine-to-five treadmill with the proverbial delicious treat hanging in front in of me that's forever out of reach no matter how fast I go. There is NO WAY I'll ever succumb to that life.

Some people disguise it as "growing up" or a sign of maturity and hurl it like it's some sort of ninja star of wisdom. "Look at me, I'm so grown up! I pay mortgages! I pay monthly bills! Look at me while I fill out my 401k! Rar rar rar!" Maybe it's just me, but I see that kind of behavior to be just as snooty as that douche from your childhood who would bring a new toy with him to school and deem it as evidence on why he's better than you.

Mind you, this doesn't mean I'm against starting a family. Absolutely not. I'm just saying, I want to enjoy my work when I eventually enter into my career. There was something I saw recently that pulled a one-two combo of smacking me in the face and punching me in the balls. In this flick, they basically said, most people can't separate their passions from their skills, and they'll always pursue their passions... regardless if it's to their detriment.

I don't want you to take this as me patting myself on the back or anything, but I think I've won that lottery. My passions and skills are mutually beneficial, and I can't let that go to waste. I'm going to ride this thing until the end! Hey, remember that triceratops from The Land Before Time? I always thought she was a dude... turns out she's just a lesbian triceratops!

"I'm a chick.""Say whaaaaa?"

Harry Potter? More Like...... Hairly Potter! Thanks, Wilson!

2009-07-17T04:06:00.001-04:00

Yea yea, it would APPEAR that I'm neglecting this blog, but the thing about contributing to two blogs is... well... which blog to you update with an entry? I've been writing way more in Dick Juggs as of late, but you know, I think it's time to grease the carburetor on this baby and gun it to six hundred thousand million horse power! So what's the big topic for my return? The Half-Blooded Prince.

It's been a year since I've passed out some judgements... so I think it's time! The movie was pretty phenomenal. I would say it's my second favorite Potter flick after Azkaban (that might be a typo, but I have NO TIME to find proper spelling for imaginary words)! I would love to divulge my thought-provoking response to the themes of mortality that the flick presented, but the topic of Hogwarts getting its fuck on is way more interesting. We didn't see it, but man, Ron definitely busted out his magic stick and casted a charm spell (translation: Ron definitely busted out his D and shot some J's all over some T's) (advanced translation: Ron pulled out his penis and ejaculated on some breast)!

One can only assume that STDs don't exist in Magic World, because shit, they don't even have a goddamn dentist in the Magic World! They don't even understand the CONCEPT of a dentist! I want to live in that world! Fuck the whole flying on brooms shit. This is what sold me! Also, this is the first film where one can finally say "Hermoine is smokin' hot" without someone casting a look of ire your way. Definitely the sprinkles on top of an already delicious cake.

So in conclusion, The Half-Blooded Prince was the bomb. The end.

Mud Blood side boob alert!!

Boom Boom Pow!

2009-06-29T03:40:00.000-04:00

Alright, it's no secret that I spent most of last year in nothing but boxers. I'm guessing most you are frowning upon that, but you know what? Fuck you! If it wasn't paired with an overwhelming sense of defeat, wearing nothing but boxers all day would've been 100% awesome. It was still 98% awesome, though. But now, I'm finding out that it's not all rainbows and cupcakes!

When you're not wearing pants, urinating becomes even LESS of a hassle (it wasn't even that big of a hassle to begin with)! All you have to do is thumb the elastic wrap, push it down, let the penis pop out, direct it into the bowl, and release. Done. Compare that to what people who wear pants have to do: unbutton / unzip the pants, go rummaging the insides of aforementioned pants, grip the penis, pull it out, direct it into the bowl, release, stuff the penis back into the pants, button / zip aforementioned pants. UGH! I bet people in Heaven totally don't wear pants and pee like me - hassle-free.

So, the side effect? Recently, I've noticed that whenever I leave the bathroom, my zippers down. I'll walk through the streets, thinking I'm looking like a total bad ass, only to realize that my Christmas themed boxers are making a cameo appearance in the middle of summer. It's like my brain has eliminated the muscle memory to zip up my pants after I pee. It's fuckin' bizarre! But seeing how I have to work every day, I should begin to slowly re-learn the whole zipping my-pants-up-after-I-pee-without-having-to-think-about-it thing. Man, now I know how Stephen King felt when he got hit by that truck and had to re-learn how to walk and shit.

Anyways, I have absolutely no idea what media to include with this entry, so, I'll put this.

Isn't That........

2009-05-18T04:34:00.000-04:00

So today I was checking out this variety show on the Taiwanese tele. Here's a quick rundown of Taiwanese variety shows: the hosts are always staple celebrities, but 90% of the people on the variety shows are just celebrities having their 15 minutes of fame. So yea, the first segment was a game that tested reflex and knowledge. Then the NEXT segment rolls along and I'm treated to a VERY familiar face. I'd be lying if I said it took a minute for me to figure how who it was, because it took a second.

It was Maria Ozawa, the japper porn star.

Completely surprised, I turned around on the couch and exclaimed, "WHOA! Mom! She's that porn star from Japan! What's she doing on the show?!"

My mom, all nonchalant-like says, "Yea, she's the porn star. She's on some shows here and there." About two seconds roll by and she's like, "Wait, how do you know she's a porn star?" and I'm all like, "Mom, duh. I'm a dude and I'm over 18. Cah mahn." But then about three seconds roll by and I'm like, "Wait...... how do YOU know she's a porn star?!" My mom's like, "She's on the news and stuff." Hmm.

Anyways, for about thirty seconds, I think it's totally wicked awesome that in a future visit to Taipei, I might have a chance to bump into Maria Ozawa. Then I think, "Ew. Seeing her in person is like the disgusting of going to a strip bar times six million. I don't want!" Because seriously, if I ever stood next to her, I would think to myself, "Where I'm standing at right now... in proximity to her... she's had seven black dudes vigorously blasting her in the face like they were dousing a fire. Gross."

It's too bad, too. She's really wicked hot.

Post Number 201~~~~~~!!!!!!

2009-04-18T20:41:00.001-04:00

Man, I know I declared earlier this year that I would shoot my creative juices all over this blog... and as you can see, I haven't been keeping my word. Well, I'm here now, on top of the jungle gym, pounding my chest, officially declaring for a SECOND time that this blog will be FLOODED with awesome shit, courtesy of me!

So yea, I think I've found the third and final job that I'll have while I'm in San Diego. I work for Closing.com as a data collector? I'm not exactly sure what my official title is, so I'll say it's Administrator of Awesome. I collect info about the closing aspects of buying a house... I put them into a database... I fill out spreadsheets... I do side projects for my supervisors... and I get my own motherfuckin' cubicle.

I don't really have any stories to share about work except that, because of my recent weight gain for a role, my jeans have ripped around the ass region. There were a few days where I had to wear some slacks. Let me tell you... jeans are awesome because when you pop a boner, it acts as a natural shield from the rest of the world. In slacks, no such luxury exists. It's just there for the world to see.

Moral of the story? Slacks are the elementary school equivalent of sweat pants... horrible boner hiiders.

Why's he standing like that? Hiding a boner.

Blue Balls

2009-03-06T17:24:00.001-05:00

It's a given that a midnight show for any film that already has a pre-established fan base is the best crowd you could possibly see it with. So it's a no brainer that the same could be said about a midnight showing of Watchmen.

Right?

What movie-going audience, as a whole, could possibly eclipse the devotion and nerdom of a midnight show's crowd?

A 3 a.m. show, motherfuckers.

To be honest, I thought, "No fucking way there could possibly be that many people for a 3 a.m. showing. There's just NO way!" So I rolled up to the theater around 2:45. I saw the a MASSIVE midnight show crowd leaving the theater. I felt like I was safe. Everyone that wanted to see it got to see it at midnight. No biggie.

The line to get into the theater? Epic. It spanned the whole hallway and even wrapped around the corner at the other end. I couldn't believe it. The conversations that I overheard throughout the line was, "I can't fucking believe you came out here to see a 3 a.m. showing with me." No one could believe the other person actually went through with it! Hell, I couldn't believe I went through with it!

The best part of it all? Halfway through the movie, the Silk Spectre II uttered a line to Nite Owl II about "doing something crazy at 3 a.m." Some members of the audience started to chuckle. Sally Jupiter's kid straight up called us out on the absurdity of watching a three hour flick at 3 in the morning. On top of that, we got to see some blue dick!

I'd continue on about how amazing the film was, but that's what Robotronic Dynamite's for!

I'm a Fat Piece of Shit.

2009-03-03T06:24:00.000-05:00

God, I seriously feel like I'm not in my own body. I've blown up to epic proportions! I'm seriously a hair away form being comedically fat! The kind of fat that if someone else saw me trip, they'd be provided with hours of heartfelt belly-chuckles! Because there's nothing more hilarious than seeing a fat person lose a battle against gravity! FIX THIS PROBLEM, SHIEH!

Anyways, yea, it's been a long time since I've updated the blog. It's not that nothing's been going on in my life. Far from it. It's more like... well, I don't know. Whatever. What's important is that I promise to update this blog on a regular basis! In fact, I'll kick start it with a doodle I did of M. Bison!

Awww yeaaaa. You love it. But yea, one last thing. The anniversary of my amazing trip to Taiwan is here. I'd be lying if I said that wasn't taking a toll on me...

WAIT. I LIED! One last thing! Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist is an awful movie. I hated that chick with the big boobs. I don't think I've ever wanted to Chris Brown a woman so much in my life than I did watching her! I hated her in The House Bunny, too!

Minnie! You Tryin' To Get Me Killed?!

2009-01-15T10:40:00.000-05:00

I can't say if this will be a long-running theme, but yea, here comes another Disney-related post!

During my stint with Be@rbricks and Kubricks, I was exposed to loads of Vinyl figures. One of the biggest thing you'll notice about this scene is what they do with licensed properties. A whole BLOG could to what they do with Star Wars characters (Here's a sample.)

Anyways, so yea, there's always been this one Vinyl figure that's been HUGE. The Runaway Brain Mickey.

Bad ass shit, right? Who's ever seen a mangled Mickey Mouse with eyes that are SCREAMING for blood? Figures like this cost a hefty chunk of change, $250-$300 hefty. Every blog or news site that I frequented spotlighted this figure.

Little did I know... this was actually BASED ON A SHORT BY DISNEY!

I was shocked. Apparently Runaway Brain was produced in 1995 and nominated for the Best Animated Short Oscar. It also marks the last short that Mickey Mouse appeared in (jesus, it's going to be 19 years since the last Mickey Mouse short?). The short is definitely one of Disney's best kept secrets. It makes me wonder... what if Disney had went with the animated-shorts-featuring-Disney-staples route instead of its current pre-teen-high-school-drama-dance-dance route. Is there an alternate universe where they're getting awesome animated shorts like this?!

But still, PIXAR is delivering the goods with their stuff, so I guess it was just part of the evolution of animation. Anyways, without further ado, here's Runaway Brain.

Warning: This was the best quality available on youtube, so if you have a severe allergic reaction to Leonard Maltin, you'll want to skip to the 43 second mark. Also, you can learn some Spanish while you're enjoying this!

Donald Duckin' It

2009-01-13T14:27:00.001-05:00

Before I made the big trip to San Diego, I had started to fall in love with the history of Disney Animation. It all started with Leslie Iwerks' documentary about her pops, Ub Iwerks. I mean, it was probably there for me to pick up had I thought about it, but the ingenuity and passion that was poured into the birth of American animation completely overwhelmed me. From there, I began to rediscover the Disney classics.

Then I moved to San Diego and stopped my artistic endeavors due to laziness and silly excuses. But fuck that noise! I'm picking up where I left off and getting knee-deep back into it. So get ready for an onslaught of crudely drawn sketches by moi!

A visual representation of how I'm going to explode out of the gates with my doodles. BOOM!

I'm the Best!

2009-01-11T14:17:00.000-05:00

In a previous post, I was complaining that movie trailers no longer surprise us when we hit up the movie theater. Now it's all about seeking them out online and checking them out. Last year, when The Watchmen trailer was tacked onto copies of The Dark Knight, I made it my business NOT to see it online. I wanted to save it for the big screen and savor all the goodness in the best way possible.

Pfbt, so much for that.

Literally, the first website I hit up the day of TDK's release, it was plastered with "WATCHEMN TRAILER ONLINE NOW!~!!!" I was a man of my word, I refused to click on any of those links. I was doing pretty good until after a few hours, when I accidently saw the image of Billy Crudup as Dr. Manhattan. At that point, I was like, "Fuck it." and I jammed the trailer. In this particular situation, the shit was so good that it didn't ruin the experience on the big screen.

But yea, remember when teasers were truly teasers? Unless you subscribed to some sort of special cinematic publication, movie trailers would come out of left field and surprise you. I remember not knowing there was going to be a TMNT III and then busting a nut when the trailer came on. Same goes for Jurassic Park and Terminator 2.

HOWEVER! I'm not here today to ramble on about that. I'm here today to bitch about why the fucking Comic-Con trailer for Ninja Assassin hasn't hit the net!

Look, this was probably one of THE most bad ass trailers I have EVER seen. I walked into the panel thinking, "Phfbt, Rain's a pop star. Would you cast Justin Timberlake to play a cold-hearted bad-ass assassin? Probably not!" But holy fucking shit. Honestly, it was so good they showed the trailer twice... and that just wasn't fucking enough. Last week, they released training footage of Rain doing his shit, and it has me jonesin' for the trailer even more. The fact that it got pushed to a summer release is pretty bitter sweet. On one hand, it SUCKS that it won't hit its January/February release date. On the other, the flick must be so strong that they're pushing it to a summer release to reap full benefits.

SO COME ON, DARK CASTLE! Release a fucking trailer already!

You Sit On It... But You Can't Take It With You...

2009-01-11T03:00:00.001-05:00

I can't tell you how awesome it is that I finally have a new chair to sit in. For the past two or so months, my ass was unfairly banished from enjoying the luxury of a proper seat while using my computer. I was relegated to sitting and/or laying in bed while I did whatever it is I do on computers (Protip: Editing a podcast on your tummy is a bad... no, strike that... horrible idea). For my less devoted readers, what happened with my last chair is that it CRUSHED ITSELF under me. What an idiot chair. Anyways, now that I have a proper work station again, I'M GOING TO DRAW AND WRITE AGAIN AND DO PUSH-UPS SO YOU CAN DROOL AT MY MUSCLES CAP LOCKS!

OH BY THE WAY! Congratulations to Dexter, who married his sister! Dude, it's cool, they're not blood related.

The Beginning of Something Awesome?

2009-01-08T04:27:00.000-05:00

It's been whispered amongst the gaming community that the fate of EGM was hanging by a thread. When some of the magazine's staple editors jumped ship, I prepared myself for rough waters. Honestly, what happened this week I did not see coming.

I'll confess, as a kid, I had a long-lasting subscription to Gamepro. Even though, in retrospect, the magazine was a far cry from EGM's pedigree, I still enjoyed my time with Scary Larry and company. I mean, come on, who can say no to the annual Lamepro?!

Actually, it's pretty easy. Compared to EGM, Lamepro sucked. EGM's April Fools' Tricks trumped EVERYTHING. I can't tell you how my friends and I shit our pants when EGM busted out the Unlock-All-James-Bonds code for Goldeneye. Hearing that it was fake a month later crushed our souls.

As already mentioned in Lusty Lust's blog, the 1Up Network inspired the creation of Robotronic Dynamite, the second most important gaming site on the World Wide Web. And let's not forget, the 1Up Network employed the most handsome group of gaming journalists to date. During the Golden Era, they had Dan Hsu, Crispin Glover, John Davidson, Mark McDonald, and Jeremy Parish. If that doesn't spell "Ultimate Manwich," then I don't know what does.

All I can say is, what an unceremonious end to a great publication. For a magazine that had a rich history of spectacular covers, it is absolutely atrocious that they ended their run with an bland image of Wolverine. James Mielke posted the cover for what was suppose to be the February issue, and it breaks my heart that it won't see print. It would've been a great last cover. But hey, maybe the team will all group together and start something amazing. Until then, it's been nice growing up with 'ya, EGM.

EGM 1989 - 2009

Top Ten Movies of 2k8!

2009-01-02T20:22:00.000-05:00

Yea! Movies! Let's do this!

Taking the concept that film is a visual medium and pushing it to the limit, Andrew Stanton has pulled off something I never thought was possible. With sparse dialogue, it's the setting and character reactions and interactions that draws the narrative, all while evoking emotion from the audience. Pokemon tried to do the same thing years ago, but failed miserably... except that part where evil Pikachu and good Pikachu kept bitch-slapping each other, then eventually crumbling into each other's arms drenched tears.

I admire David Fincher's utilization of CGI in his flicks. Never does it take center stage, never is it a spectacle. It's always the supplement to the story. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button pushes it to the limit. Unless you paid special attention, the CGI of Pitt and Blanchett's face is so effortless, so natural. It completely aides the cinematic awe that accompanies the film. Whether or not it was deliberate of Fincher to go a bit more reserved with his directing flare, but the film feels like something that came out of the Golden Age of Hollywood. And last but not least, how smoking hot was Cate Blanchett throughout the flick??

It's been awhile since a sweeping Chinese epic hasn't made me want to stab my eyes out with an abacus. In a year that was flooded with OTHER period pieces, The Warlords definitely makes like Jet Li from the opening of the movie and emerges to the top. Speaking of Jet Li, he took his acting chops and pushed it to the limit, finally winning himself his first Best Actor Award at the HK Oscars. With fantastic set pieces, brutal battle scenes, and a sexy cast of Chinese people, The Warlords is definitely a shining light in the bleak landscape that is Chinese cinema. Also, 大哥是對的.

The more I watch it, the more things I find to love about it. I don't know whether we should be bummed or ecstatic about The Dark Knight. On one hand, we have probably the most spectacular comic book adaptation to date. On the other, will we ever see a comic book adaptation that can surpass it? Everyone's been raving about Heath Ledger taking the character of Joker and pushing it to the limit, but I think it's criminal that the rest of the cast gets ignored. Aaron Eckheart's transformation of Harvey Dent to Two-Face, Bale's definitive portrayal as Batman/ Bruce Wayne, Edison Chen's guy-who-works-for-that-gooky-guy-with-uneven-eyes, the blind guy from Contact's gruff banker; hands down one of the greatest ensemble cast to grace celluloid.

Hitman movies have become a cliched affair these days. Ritchie's Rock'n Rolla was a guilty pleasure, but predictable to the bone. Martin McDonagh's debut film wears the sheep skin of a typical hitman flick (quirky dialogue, too-cool-for-school leads) and fucking busts out a ruthless attack on the viewer. Completely unpredictable, sprinkled with comedy, infused with themes that beg for further musing, In Bruges is not a film to be missed. Plus, it's the first film that I've seen Colin Farrell in where I don't want to punch him in the face. Anyways, any further discussion of this film to newcomers would ruin the delightful surprise it brings. Push it to the limit.

It's been awhile since I've seen a balls-out-feel-good flick. Most people have this weird concept that in order for a film to be good, it's got to be depressing. This is especially true of love stories. Danny Boyle pounds on his chest and says, "Fuck that noise." That's not to say Slumdog Millionaire isn't without soul-crushing moments. Before we get the good, we have to see the completely horrid life that Jamal suffers through. By the end, you so badly want this kid to have a happy ending that, when he finally gets everything, you can't help but jump out of your seat and clap. But seriously, don't jump out of your seat and clap... that's taking gay and pushing it to the limit.

I feel like Hellboy 2 came from the 80's and hijacked Del Toro's brain and commanded him to use the technology we have now to make the ultimate creature flick. At every twist and turn, there's something new to make your jaw drop. The flick is just FUN. Honestly, this is the one movie this year that made me feel like a kid again from beginning to end.

This Korean flick moves at such a brisk pace that's it's hard to believe the flick's over two hours. The Good, The Bad, and The Weird takes gunplay and totally pushes it to the limit. The only way I can describe the action is that it's a fuckin' bullet opera. Ji-woon Kim also goes all out with the supporting cast, giving each character, no matter how small, a wild flare. Some of the henchman actually look way more interesting than the core cast! I wore a smile on my face from beginning to end. If you've fallen out of love with Asian cinema, this might be the one to suck you back in.

What a way to start off the year! Surprising everyone by making Rocky Balboa a good, Stallone has done it again with John Rambo. There's really nothing more I can say about the film that hasn't already been said from the most amazing podcast episode to ever grace the internet. Just know this, I saw this movie three times in the theater... and each time, I enjoyed the shit out of it. And there's no need to try and throw "pushing it to the limit" in this description, because Rambo IS the limit!

Personally, Let the Right One In is perfect cinema. From the subtle grinding sound effect to the dramatic lighting, from the touching script to the superb acting, every element of filmmaking meshes together to form a masterful whole. The best part of it? Everyone walks away from this film with a different impression. While some see it as a tale of misguided youthful love, I see it as a film that depicts the veil of blissful ignorance that usually accompanies an immature sense of what love is. It's a puzzle that yields unique results. Really, no amount of words can justify the sheer brilliance of this film. I'm not even going to sully it by implying that it pushes something to its limit.

Top Ten Games of 2k8!

2009-01-01T20:05:00.000-05:00

Awww yea! 2008 has just wrapped-up and that can only mean one thing: YEAR END TOP TEN LISTS! I'm so pumped for this shit I'm pumping enough blood to power a small village of boners. So, without further ado, here is JoE Shieh's Top Ten Games of 2008!

I remember in 1st Grade, every now and then, the school guidance counselor would take over for a few hours and teach us about random stuff. Stuff like how to be socially appropriate and shit like that. But, every now and then, she'd bust out a book of brain busters. The questions were completely absurd, but they were all based on logic. Seeing that I was a childhood genius one-step away from being a real-life Doogie Howser, I DESTROYED these questions. Those questions planted the seed for my now unfounded sense of brilliance. Professor Layton and the Curious Village further nurtures my nihilistic train of thought. With brain-busting riddles that call for celebration every time you solve one, this might be one of the best puzzle games, like, EVER~

Behemoth's love note to the beat 'em ups of yesteryear surpasses the very games that inspired Castle Crashers! The first boss encounter sums the game up: a hulking boss storms into the battle arena, only to be crushed under the hands of an even BIGGER boss. Castle Crashers is constantly upping the ante. UFOs, giant dragons with sock puppets, giant corn cobs, crudely-drawn unicorns... need I say more? With a surprisingly deep leveling system paired with a bevy of hidden goodies, Castle Crashers destroys the myth of beat 'em ups lacking any sort of replay value. The two years wait? Worth it.

Okay, let me just get the "shameful" part out of the way: I played this game on Easy mode. Who gives a shit? So maybe I missed out on the frustration of having to wait through the Continue Load Screen six million times. But you know what? I still experienced the mind-numbing, thumb-blistering, blood-geysering, ultra-violent bliss that is the combat system. Sure, the camera leaves more to be desired, but the combat has raised the bar for slash 'em ups. How can you hate a game where a helicopter rips through a colosseum of werewolves?!

GTAIV takes the old games and polishes up practically every department. Ass-awful aiming system? Fixed! Muddy graphics? Fixed! Funky character animation? Sort of fixed! In retrospect, the story and its "crucial" decisions were pretty shallow. But the fact that the game DID make me pause and debate whether or not I should kill certain individuals is quite a feat. Usually, I shoot people in the face with reckless abandon. GTAIV is probably the only title where I actually felt bad and let someone live... even though this person fucked Niko Bellic over. Touche, Rockstar, for instilling me with a conscience!

Even though this game brought me dangerously close to barfing all over myself, it deserves a spot in the top ten. After blazing through the campaign (suffering through some pretty fucking atrocious Esurance-caliber flash animation), I felt like I had seen everything the game had to offer. Then the time trials were brought to my attention. With the spirit of competition in full effect, striving for the fastest time became my new addiction. The absurdly anal process of finding ways to shave off mere milliseconds should've been a chore, but I'll be damned if I said I didn't had a good time doing so. It's a shame that we'll probably never get to see a sequel, but hey, at least we'll be seeing some bitchin' DLC! Edit: Apparently Mirror's Edge 2 is still happening. We'll see!

If Geometry Wars is Jurassic Park, then Geometry Wars 2 is Jurassic Park if Jurrasic Park had lasers mounted on every dinosaur. The first one started my bloodlust in decimating the other scores my the friends leaderboard. The second one continues my ravenous hunger with not one, but SIX separate leaderboards. Honestly, throw me on a deserted island with Geometry Wars 2 and a slew of hot sexy babes... I think I'd be set for life.

I was oddly sucked in by Oblivion. I say oddly because I wasn't really sucked in by any element of the game. I'm pretty sure the driving force for me to beat it was because of achievement points. But Fallout 3 is a whole different story. From Liam Neeson bringing you into this world to blasting a hulking mutant in the face with a fat boy, I was completely absorbed into the crumbling Washington D.C.. While it may seem like a vast wasteland with no variation, the world of Fallout 3 is so richly diverse, no two regions are ever the same. With a game that hinges on exploration and making your own fun, Bethesda has definitely delivered in spades by offering the ultimate playground for characters to revel in.

Come for the art style and top-notch voice acting. Stay for the addictive combat. Possibly the most tragic victim of the holiday rush, Valkyria Chronicles is one of the best strategy games in the past ten years. The brilliant fusing of SRPG elements with third-person shooting sensibilities has resulted in a combat system where grinding is an absolute pleasure rather than a chore. Most SRPGs create this illusion of infinite possibilities in battle, where your strategy can make all the difference. Honestly, within a grid-based battlefield, it's pretty damn limited. The sprawling maps in each of Valkyria's missions require you to actually stop and think about unit placement and your eventual course of action. Do you place a few snipers and take out the enemy from afar? Do you bring in a collection of shocktroopers and muscle your way to the goal? Or do you just go to town in your tank and blow everyone a new butthole? Catered to the casual and hardcore alike, I can almost guarantee you'll find something to love about Valkyria Chronicles.

Man, I haven't seen game design on this level of brilliance since... well, Super Mario Galaxy... but BEFORE THAT... I haven't seen game design on this level of brilliance in a long time. You can literally see the effort and love that Keiji Inafune and his team poured into every sprite of Mega Man 9. Everything is where it is with a purpose! To cap it all off, the game has some of the greatest chiptunes that can rival past Mega Man entries! Out of all the games on this list, for $15, this game probably packs the most bang for your buck!

Were you expecting anything else? An epic tale that was ten years in the making, MGS4 finally closed the book on Solid Snake's journey, by literally, bringing the series back to its roots. There's already been an episode of Robotronic Dynamite devoted to celebrating the virtues of the game, but I'll throw in my final two cents. While it may not have been the savior that the PS3 needed, for the fans of the series, it was nothing short of amazing. It blows my mind how Kojima managed to string together the cobbled mess that was the MGS universe into a cohesive whole and actually make sense! Well, in a Kojima sort of way. The fan service was thick, the gameplay was revolutionary, and the finale was more satisfying than I could ever had hoped for, Metal Gear Solid 4 is, without a doubt, my Game of the Year.

NOooooOooOoOoOoOOoooOOOOOooo!!!

2008-12-05T07:45:00.001-05:00

Okay, I can accept the fact that under George Bush's rule, lots of bad shit went down. Wars? Part of the W. package. Economic woes? Part of the shit storm. Whatever, I'm not going to cry about it. It's cool. Do your thing, W..

But today... out of no where... something totally ninja punched me in the motherfuckin' face.

TWINKIES. HAVE. BEEN. DOWNSIZED. WHAT. THE. F. U. C. K?

Alright, so yea, twinkies are delicious. If unicorns existed, they'd probably shit out twinkies. If Heaven had an official snack, it'd probably be twinkies. The shit's delicious. Since I was a toddler, I've been eating twinkies, albeit, not on a regular basis, but enough where I would consider myself quite the fan of the golden snacks.

Here's the deal: nowadays, when I buy twinkies, I usually make it look like I'm just getting it ironically. Like, "Oh hey! Remember twinkies? Look at me, I'm a fat fuck! The last thing I need are twinkies! Ho ho ho! Look at me eat this thing that's bad for me!" when, secretly, I'm enjoying every single bite I take.

Tonight, I did the same thing. Since I'm the fattest I've ever been, I picked up a box of twinkies going, "Oh hey! Remember twinkies? Look at me, I'm a fat fuck! The last thing I need are twinkies! Ho ho ho! Look at me east this thing that's bad for me!"... except... this time... I did NOT enjoy it!

Let me tell you why I love twinkies. When you bite down on the soft yellow part, usually the creamy shit on the inside oozes into your mouth. It's like someone just took a delicious dump in your mouth. You know why I don't like them now? They've fucking shrunk in size. When you take a bite... nothing fucking happens. There's barely enough cream in there to sustain an adult mouth!

THUS, THE WEAK ECONOMY HAS FORCED HOSTESS TO DOWNGRADE THEIR TWINKIES! NOW IT TASTES AWFUL! I HATE YOU GEORGE BUSH! I HATE YOU!

MY CHAIR... EXPLODED BENEATH ME!

2008-11-30T03:45:00.000-05:00

One of these days I'm going to hire a photographer to take pictures of me throughout my day so I can add images to compliment the text on this blog. Why would I be doing this? Because she (the photographer will obviously be female so I can totally bang her at some point) will be chronicling the super duper awesomeness that is my life. It's too bad I don't have her now, because she would've totally taken a pic of my desk chair so I could post it on my blog.

I'd go on and tell you more about this story, but honestly, without a desk chair, I'm typing on my knees. And lemme tell ya, typing on your knees is like watching a game of basketball with no African-American players: HORRIBLE. Seriously, it crazy sucks. You know what? It's so bad, I won't even add a picture to this entry because I just want to get off my knees! GOOD DAY!

More Like... SNOOZETUBE!

2008-11-25T18:59:00.001-05:00

Aside from compiling galaxy-destroying-awesome top ten lists, the other thing that separates man from beasts is that man possesses bad habits. They can range from small potato stuff like biting your nails or leaving the lights on to a massive mutant potato that's really only two regular potatoes cut and put together to look like a massive mutant potato stuff like a cocaine addiction.

I'm only bringing this up because I have this one bad habit that drives me nuts. So when I'm at the bathroom peeing, I do this weird thing where, knowing that I'm not even halfway done with the release, I just flush the toilet. What happens is, after the toilet flushes and resets itself, I'm still peeing. That means, when I'm for realsies done, I have to give it a second flush because the bowl still has pee-pee in it. Why do I do this?

Sure, if I was in the middle of the first viewing of Bolt, I'd be anxious to get back to my seat so maybe I might gun it and time it so that when the water is spiraling into the hole, I'll finish my pee. That's understandable. But that'd never happen because public bathrooms have auto-flushers, and if they don't, I don't touch the germ-stick that is a public urinal's flusher.

But other than that scenario, I don't know why I have this bad habit! I guess CE LA VIE! Yea, that's right, I know spanish. What?

RAAAARRRRRRRRR!

PIZZA THE HUTT!

2008-11-22T06:05:00.001-05:00

I know that there are numerous entries devoted to me crying like a stupid little girl about stupid little girl problems in my super awesome blog. I mean, what kind of man worries about his weight?! Sly Stallone sure as shit didn't when he was training his arm to win his son back in an arm wrestling contest! I'll admit it, some of my past entries read like a page from a stupid little girl's diary while she was on her period! I hate it! When I read those entries, my penis shrivels in disgust!

But this time... it's for real.

I don't think I've ever been fatter than I am now. It's disgusting. When I sit down, all these nasty folds appear. For fun, I checked to see if I could hold pencils in these folds. The attempt at merriment quickly dissolved into utter depression when I found out that I could hold pencils in my folds. It's like my body is a Trapper Keeper made of fat. I hate it!

What's to blame for all this? Awesome San Diego food. Goddamnit. If I keep going at this rate, I'll be breathing out of my MOUTH. LIKE A FAT PERSON! NOOoooOOoOOoOOoOOoOooOOoooo!

To close, Jimmy made a new video of me:

I'm So Startled!

2008-11-12T02:38:00.001-05:00

Okay, so my job at Sony isn't "Official Coordinator of Online Merriment," it's just Online Support. What do I do? Make sure all the servers for their first party titles are all up and running. Also, sometimes I have to find dirty, dirty cheaters to swing the ban hammer at! But yea, since I'm still new, it'll be awhile before they officially GIVE me the ban hammer. Right now, they're just walking me through the department like I'm at Costco, only giving me sample bites of all the things they have to offer.

Today, I got put on the most basic duty: Playstation 3 rotation. What this entails is me having to set up numerous games and then spend 9 hours playing through them.

"WHAT?! You're getting paid to PLAY GAMES?! Geddoutta heeeirrrrrrr~! Must me all rainbows and cupcakes!"

No. It is NOT all rainbow and cupcakes.

If you take a moment and think about it, Sony doesn't really have that many decent in-house titles. Resistance, sure, and Hot Shots Golf is arguable (although, I can't play that since it takes too long for a game... lame), and if you're feeling polite, Motorstorm. All those titles are in the Playstation 3 rotation. Then there's NBA 09, NBA 08, F-1 Championchip and Eye of Judgment (which I also cannot play, because it takes too long). So yea, cycle through these games in 9 hours, what's the big deal?

Well, it's boring. Imagine a game you didn't particularly like. Imagine if you had to play it longer than you really wanted to. Actually, think about a game you DO like, and then having to play it when you didn't really want to. I'm tellin' ya, it can ruin a game That said... I've discovered it's all about making your OWN fun.

See, I have to play NBA 09 for at least 2 hours a day. By minute 25, I'm already tired of it. Oh, and by the way, the Sony made sports games are the bad ones. Anyways, I realized, hey, if I'm going to suffer through playing this shitty basketball game, at least I could make the OTHER player miserable. So, for the rest of my time with the game, I played ONLY 5 minute quarters (the longest) so that I can inflict... wait for it... MAXIMUM DAMAGE (LOLLERCOPTER! ROTFL!!!!!!~!~!~ GAMERS JOKE!!!@#!@#!!!!!!~~~~~~~)

So let me walk you through a typical game. I usually pick the Phoenix Suns because Shaq is on that team... and that's crucial. When I'm on defense, I take control of Shaq and run up to half court and start tapping the "block low" movement. Why? Because if you keep tapping it before the character finishes the motion, it just looks like he's doing a really awkward dance. So while the other player is trying to score, all you see from me is Shaq pretending he's in that Sir Mix-A-Lot video. When I'm on offense, I only take two routes. Route one is me chucking the ball at my basket from across the court. Route two is me pulling out some Harlem Globetrotter moves until I hit that 8 second violation. 20 minutes of this.

Here's what I have learned: the other player is so desperate to rank and keep up good stats that he'll endure this epic 20 minute of awfulness. It's tragic, too, because the MOST players that I've seen play online for NBA was 15. 15 people NATION WIDE play this. Anyways, expect many more entries devoted to the workplace... because, shit, it's only day two and I already have enough stories to fill the length of five... no, TEN Frog and Toad books!

I So Fat!

2008-11-09T05:32:00.000-05:00

I got a job.

Almost a year and a half later, the folks over at Sony gave me the proverbial 80's congratulatory thumbs up by offering me a job! "Which division of Sony," you ask? Why, the Playstation of course! What's my position? Official Coordinator of Online Merriment. I know what you're thinking, and yes, that's totally made up, but it describes the job just as effectively as the "real" title. All I do is play online Playstation games and make sure they don't fuck up. Boom. That's it. Jealous? I would be, if i wasn't me. Awesome.

I Feel Like a Gerbil!

2008-10-28T04:33:00.001-04:00

It's not secret that I totally dig just wearing a pair of boxers and going about my day. I'd go so far as to say that you haven't really lived until you spend two-thirds of a single year in nothing but boxers. Look, it's no easy task. It's a feat that requires loads hard work and sacrifices. If it seems like I'm bragging about a situation that bears no bragging rights whatsoever... let me assure you, I am totally bragging about a situation that bears no bragging rights whatsoever.

With that said... roommates. Never had 'em. New experience. It's a brave new world I'm trekking here. In the months to come, I'm sure I'll have plenty of OCD-related tales to pass on your way, but today... it's all about the boxers.

For the past week, I've been testing the limits of how naked I can be around my roommates. I'm not out to fulfill some cheap thrill by putting myself in situations where my cock is separated from the rest of the world only by a thin sheet of cloth, no! Consider this bizarre quirk a variation of the tickling of a nudist's fancy by being naked all the time. I can't explain it, I just feel free.

Anyways, so I confront the roomies about my "situation"... because more or less, I was in the living room in nothing but boxers this one time when we were all just chilling. They all say they're totally okay with it. Awesome! Well, today, I tried to do the whole boxers thing........... and something just didn't feel right. I felt embarrassed that they weren't embarrassed by the whole boxers thing. Because at that moment, we were watching the Sunny in Philly episode where Dennis is in nothing but his undies doing a runway walk.

I'm there looking at Glenn Howerton baring himself to a room full of dudes... and it just hits me like a ton of bricks. Instantly, I go into my room and throw a shirt on. I can't explain it, but something said, "You know, this just ain't right, buddy."

So now, I always rock a shirt with my boxers. The end.

Here's something to balance out this text-heavy entry!
I owned ALL THESE TOYS!

Belated Pics!

2008-10-27T05:59:00.001-04:00

Here are some pics taken from the big drive to Cali with the iPhone!
A very special thanks to my family, especially my dad!

You Don't Know Me!

2008-10-26T02:50:00.007-04:00

Today I was standing in the self-checkout line of California's version of Ingles. I'm there talkin' to a bud, waiting in line because all the stations were occupied. One of the customers was buying beer and had to go to the front to show the clerk his I.D..

At that moment, a guy, who probably thought he was Mr. Bad Ass (because he was with a hot chick), decided to interrupt my conversation.

"Go." he blurted.

I turned around and see he has his right arm extended towards the beer guy's station with such conviction that you would've thought he was fuckin' Moses directing the Jews into the parted sea.

"You can go!" he continued with an annoyed look on his face.

I turned to him and say, "That guy's not done. Why don't you calm down?"

The beer guy returned to the machine. Mr. Tough Guy literally retreated back behind his cart with an "Oh..." That dude thought he was laying down the law about the self-checkout lane and dropping knowledge on my face when all he did was look like a pompous asshole.

As I exited out the store, I jumped up with my fist triumphantly raised in the air. Then I froze in that position while Ralph's exploded behind me.

JoE Shieh: 1,899. The "Real" World: 0.