Acceptable PDA

Tenets of acceptable behavior for couples in public.

1. No touching. Exception: the occasional back-hand brush while walking side by side. The following rule should prevent this.

2. A three foot distance should be maintained at all times. Exceptions: none.

3. Eye contact should be exercised only when responding to a question. Exceptions: mating rituals.

4. Hugs should be transferred via third party.

5. Kissing is allowed when it is certain nobody is looking. God is always looking.

6. No fornication. This includes, but is not limited to: cock sucking, twat rubbing, tit juggling, humping, ass ramming, horse fucking, 69, fisting, double penetration, and coprophilia. Exceptions: situational.

7. No laughing.

Fueled by Validation

Everybody needs validation. Some claim it’s not necessary, that their lives are fulfilling and satisfying. These people are liars. They are liars and evil for making us who use validation as fuel feel bad. I mean, what point is there in writing if nobody’s commenting? How do I know I have any readers other than my friends?

Do I need to provide points of interest? Did you know that any unsolicited merchandise you receive is yours to keep? If a company sends you merchandise without your permission, and expects you to return the item if you aren’t satisfied, they’re idiots.

I got the Wall Street Journal every day for three months before the bastards realized I wasn’t going to pay for it. The worst part is that these trial period assholes prey on naivete. I received several “bills” and “late notices” demanding that I pay for something I never requested. Others, my parents for example, would’ve been duped.

Was that sufficient? Do I have to post something controversial? A dissenting opinion perhaps? No, I already expressed my disdain for voting, a disdain I do not condone as it defeats the purpose of my argument.

Maybe some gossip? I don’t know any gossip.

Leave a comment. Chumps.

Ode to Joy

"You better not blog this." -Joy

As I wrote in my last blog entry, I usually have a short list of topics I feel like writing at one time, and when I just arrived home, ready to write one particular entry, I saw that my friend called, who happened upon two tickets to the Finals of the World Baseball Classic. Drive bys and home intrusions aside, I do like where I live because it's thisclose to Dodger Stadium, and working Downtown makes me the most likely candidate in situations like these.

There was no doubt I was going. But I wanted to find someone to use that extra ticket to come along with me. All else fails, I would have gone alone, but I was certain I'd find someone to go with me.

That proved to be an EPIC FAIL. Those who wanted to go either lived too far away, was too stinky, had to work, etc. Other friends either didn't love me enough, was too lazy, had an actual life and were doing other things, or plain ignored my existence. I finally went to my list of friends who don't even like sports, but had the time and possibly were in the general vicinity to be able to go.

One of them was too far away, and the other one was my friend Joy.

Despite her general dislike for all things sports, I was banking on her adventurous spirit and sometimes sense of spontaneity to get her to say yes...that and the hope she was NOT at home in Long Beach. I caught her right when she was in her car to head back that way, and was presented with a really hard sell.

She later told me when I called her to ask her to a baseball game, she thought, "She must be high or something to ask me to go to a baseball game!" But I really was. I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to attend a world-class sporting event that's in my backyard, and I was hoping to find someone with whom to enjoy it. I told her that this event was kind of like the World Series for the MLB (Though I didn't say MLB since that means nothing to her), but an actual WORLD championship since other countries actually played against each other. It just so happened she was watching TV and realized the game is what she was watching, and decided to go with me. HOORAY!

We eventually made it from our street parking spot to the reserve level, left field in an area with a lot of Japan fans behind me and a small group of Korea fans in our immediate vicinity. Joy was quietly for Japan, and I was partial to Korea since Japan defeated USA. If anything, it was amazing to be in such a spirited crowd, waving flags and those things I call "budda-buddas," those inflatable noodles that make hollow noises, and she was having a blast, especially when we loaded up on Dodger dogs and nachos.

The game was intense, and the crowd was feeding off that energy and the Korean and Japan pop blasting from the PA system. When Korea made the amazing bottom of the ninth play to tie up the game, I was F-R-E-A-K-I-N-G O-U-T and though I was screaming and gave Joy two spirited arm squeezes of excitement, I was aware of my good friend's lower constitution and contained myself lest I break off her arm Wookiee-style.

In the end, her team won, but we both agreed it didn't matter who won, it was a fun game. On the long walk back to the car, Joy first expressed how nice it was to have this nice walk, but told me that it was my excitement and enthusiasm that I exuded on the phone with her that sold her on the idea of going to an event she otherwise couldn't care less about, and got to witness excitement ten times more than my excitement once we were in the stadium.

So here's to my friend Joy, the person least likely to go to a baseball game, but evoked the spirit of adventure to have an amazing time.

I Shaved My Head

It’s haircut time!

My plan was to hide my face and remain anonymous like this phony:



I’ve grown my beard out to 1.5 inches, and I don’t have the patience to keep it going. My hair reaches the bridge of my nose and I look like a fucking hippy. I’ll never be able to hide my face, not successfully at least. I’ll never hear, “who is that mysterious and also very sexy man staring at my breasts?”

You know it’s bad when your flunky girlfriend disobeys a direct order to remain yes-mannish and insists you get a haircut against your wishes. How dare she talk, her hair is at least a dozen times longer than mine. She can lasso hippos with her mane. I saw a midget repelling off her back not long ago, and she didn’t notice because his weight was negligible against the weight of her hair. She’s a loon, how dare she suggest I get a haircut!

I’m off now, I’ll report with more sullen tripe when I return.

I’ve returned an hour later with no hair. I shaved only half my beard as the trimmer gave out halfway through. The left side of my face looks like an animal, the right side looks like dirt. I wish I had a camera. I’m bald with half a beard.

Adventures in...I Forgot.

I am not writing this entry a day late to write about my adventure in forgetfulness. In fact, for the past few days leading up to Wacky Wednesday, I had a few things I wanted to write about, but thing upon other thing caught up to me and by the time I gave half a damn to write something, it was passed midnight and I really didn't care.

If you want to catch a glimpse of my planning process of writing in this adventure blog, I have a few topics stored in my head as I go about my everyday life, and when it comes to the day of writing, if one of them bubbles up more than the others, I write that one.

Yesterday, I had at least three leads I could have gone with, but when I missed posting, today opened up at least three more things I could complain that no one would care to read. As to not spoil any future entries I'm sure I'll eventually get to in a moment of desperation, I won't tell you about the ones I have lined up. Instead, I want to get into the brilliant entry that I plumb forgot I was going to write.

I remember exactly where I was when I came up with it. I just got into my car, grumbling the whole way as I looked up the hill where President Obama was holding a Town Hall meeting three blocks away that I couldn't attend, and was ready to make the haul from Downtown LA to Burbank. At that moment, the seed of inspiration was planted in my head to write about something with which I'm not all too familiar, so unfamiliar even I was going to title this entry "Adventures in [insert forgotten subject here]." I was actually excited about writing about it, if not for the fact I completely forgot what I was going to write in the first place, and I'm sure I couldn't even begin to remember what it was about without even parking where I was parked, carrying what I had and thinking about everything I was thinking about at the time.

It might have been genius. It could have been trash. We'll never know now.

Either way, it's a good thing I picked up a helmet today. Maybe it will help me protect the noggin from any more dings to prevent more of this from happening.

Maintaining Friends and Their Santies on Social Networking Sites

[As I was contemplating on the one of few entries I wanted to write this Monday, I made a quick check-in with Facebook to see that a previously-advised friend-saving tip didn't work, and made haste to see how to rectify that. I wrote this tutorial and posted it as a note on Facebook (and most of the links within this entry may only be accessible through the site) but thought it may be good to share it outside the Facebook realm...maybe to further demonstrate how wacky this site is to the Facebook outsiders. Plus, I want to sleep now. <3corazon]

As the new Facebook layout slowly creeped upon its user's profiles, many users were frustrated and angered by the handy new "features" that allowed us to know EVERY LITTLE THING our friends were doing on the site...whether we liked it or not.

My dear friend Ericka was so kind to come up with a tutorial for YOU, dear Facebook user to change those settings before you fall victim of OMG FRIENZ CUT! to even your B-est of FsF.

Now that it seems that everyone one in Facebookland has the new layout, you may or may not have noticed that you can still see stories when a friend of yours sends an "Ultimate Wedgie" or a "Ball of Supreme Opulence" through applications such as SuperPoke, Lego World, ad nauseaum. If you get one super SuperPoke-happy friend sending to everyone on their list, that friend may unknowingly be flooding other friends' news feed.

Last week, when I was on the verge of blocking a friend's updates, I was advised by going to the application page of said application and electing to "Block" that application would resolve that problem, but when confirming the block, you're informed that you'll still be able to see your friends and all the SuperPoking they do.


Does this spell OMG FRIENZ CUT? Not quite yet (At least, for this reason).

Go ahead to the top right section of Facebook and mouse over "Settings." From there, you can click on "Application Settings." From there, the list of applications you currently have installed on Facebook will be listed, and to the right you'll see options to "Edit Settings," "About" and "x," which will delete the listed setting. To prevent application news showing up in your friends' news feeds, go ahead and click on "Edit Settings."


By default all applications are set as "Allow $_application to publish one-line stories automatically, but prompt me for larger stories." which means that every single time you do something with said application, EVERYONE will know about it as it will be posted on your wall, the friend to whom you $_action using $_application, and on the news feed of all your friends who haven't already blocked from seeing your updates.

You can choose to "Never publish any stories from $_application." or opt to be prompted when you should or shouldn't post such news; I'd recommend either but am partial to never publishing.

I hope this note helps in preventing people from hiding others' news or even worse...going so far as to cut a friend from Facebook. Spread the word, so Facebook friendships remain intact!

I've Been Robbed

I’m sorry I did not write yesterday. It’s an interesting story.

So I’m house sitting for some rich bastard in Hollywood, getting paid to feed his fat cat, water his fat plants, and keep all the fat Mormons away. I can drink all the liquor I want and grill all the prime porterhouses in his walk-in fridge. It’s a pretty sweet deal.

Yesterday I woke to the smell of coffee and bacon. I thought it strange as the house was supposed to be empty. I wrapped a towel around my waist and sauntered into the kitchen where I startled a man wearing a beanie and an eye mask.

“Ay! What the fock is this?” I wasn’t sure of his accent.

“I live here,” I told him.

“Wasn’t nobody s’posed to be here. I’m robbin’ the joint!”

“Bacon?”

“It gives the illusion of inhabitance. Care for some rashers?”

“What the fu—you mean bacon? Get the fuck out of my house you limey piece of shit! I’m just kidding, I’m not racist. But seriously get the fuck out.” I ran back into the master bedroom and pulled a pistol from below my pillow and ran back out to the kitchen and he was gone. He’d left the bacon but took the microwave.

I grabbed my flip flops and ran out to the driveway keeping the towel around my waist. His engine wasn’t starting and I deflated his tires with a few shots. He managed to start the van and scraped out of the driveway. I found a motorcycle with the keys in it and pulled up against him. I shot into the engine, reloaded the revolver and shot six more. The van started smoking and he turned into me, pinning me into a tree.

It was kind of awkward yelling obscenities at him between a smoking van and a tree, half-naked as he ran off.

So I was pried out a couple hours later by some passersby and walked back home. So what if I left a smoldering wreckage all up in a sidewalk? I showered, got dressed and went crook-hunting. I found him at a pawn shop three blocks away trying to trade the microwave for a guitar. He saw me and leaped through the store window. I picked up the shopkeep and flung him at the crook’s legs who toppled forward.

I retrieved the microwave and took a nap when I got home. So I guess if I hadn’t napped I would’ve written yesterday so what shut up.

Short-short Mystery

[Here’s my attempt at writing a short-short mystery. It’s not difficult at all. Try it or fry it!]

It was warm and slightly breezy, with lazy clouds drifting across the sky and frank’s birthday party on the verge of disaster.

“I’m sorry,” Corazon said to a crowd of her friends, “but the birthday cake has been stolen.” They gasped collectively. “I’m sure if we work together, we’ll be able to find the thief. We don’t want frank’s birthday ruined twice in one week.”

“I don’t understand, who could’ve stolen that shit?” Eliana asked.

“Any one of us,” Fran replied.

“The sooner we find that cake, the sooner frank stops crying,” Aimee said.

“Where is frank anyway?” Aimee asked.

“He’s in the bathroom taking a shit and crying. He forgot his Lactaid pills like a little bitch,” Eliana said.

“Poor guy. Does anybody remember seeing anything suspicious today?” Masa asked.

“All I know is that it must have been stolen while we were fucking up the piñata out back because that’s when it was left alone,” Eliana said.

“So it’s been gone for three hours and nobody noticed until now,” Fernando said.

“Well, it was in the freezer, Fernando,” Cece said.

“In the freezer?” Eliana asked. “I know who stole that shit then."

Smoke and Mirrors

I honestly have to say I didn't have much motivation to write today's entry. In fact, I had no intention to write something tonight, and instead pass out and wake up in the morning and write something up that probably had to do with some bizarre dream I had.

Instead, I want to show off what I finished making not too long ago:

That's right. I fired up MSPaint and made black bubbles.

But I posed a challenge for myself: I wasn't going to make these black bubbles all willy-nilly-like and randomly place them wherever, instead, I allowed myself to place a black bubble starting in a negative space and keep it so long as it came into contact with at least one other black bubble. After I was satisfied by my black bubble cluster, I took one of the 24 colors available to me and fill in the small pools of negative space.

It may seem like a clever and original thing to you, but I actually got the idea from something some people may recognize. But Benny Franklin said, "Originality is the art of concealing your sources." and if you don't know my source, I'm not the one to tell you.

Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I am happy with how it came out. I do have to admit that what inspired me to even make something like this was just so I can have a fun background for YET ANOTHER social networking site.

And yes, I like being all matchy-matchy.

An Actual, Useful Tip! Really!

Everyone, listen up. I’m going to share a tip. An excellent tip for which I’m taking complete credit.

Most people have a notepad on which they scrawl random thoughts. I have a txt document on my computer. Recently I’ve been writing the stupid, ridiculous, inane things my girlfriend and I say, and reading them when I’m feeling bad.

Eliana: I love chocolate chip cookie dough.
frank: I love it when it's cooked. In the oven.
Eliana; I've never had that!

Eliana: How come we’re only having full moons lately?

Eliana: I know there's full moons, but in the sky!

My girlfriend actually said that. I still laugh every time I go through this list. I’m not saying my girlfriend’s an imbecile, she’s not. She’s bright, witty, and can hang with the jokes, but sometimes her brain shuts off completely. Completely.

Eliana: I went outside and looked up and a plane made the clouds say, “No on prop 8.”

How adorable is that? Not very because she’s not four years old. How is that not funny?

She’s gotten me pretty good, though. Some of you know that I got broadband recently, and that I was schoolgirl-giddy at the notion of being able to download Japanese schoolgirl pornography faster than ever before.

frank: I can’t wait for DSL.
Eliana: I’d probably be just as excited as you. No, I was back in 2000.

Bitch! I have my fair share of idiotic moments, too. I was describing the horrific deaths of club-goers by starting with, “when the club turned to fire.”

Just now, I was describing why the last second, clutch shot the girlfriend and I saw on television was so awesome, “. . . and he shot left-handed! And he’s left-handed.” I still have her beat, though:

frank: L’aura called. She said she's almost here.
Eliana: Did you answer the phone?

Eliana: What's our fifth sense?

Eliana: Do you think Lincoln kept anything under his top hat?

And my all time favorite.

Eliana: What's all in a watermelon? Water and melon?

She just read this and couldn't stop laughing. She even slapped her palm to her face a couple times! So please, start writing your stupid moments down. It’ll cheer you up when you’re feeling sad. Or bad. Or dad.

Toiletiquette

When I was in Middle School, my mom made me borrow an etiquette book from the library. I actually wound up learning a thing or two that has stuck as daily habits. What was missing in that etiquette book was chatting while on toilet.

I'm not girly enough that I MUST make a bathroom run with a gaggle of girls, but when I wind up going to the restroom with a friend, it's inevitable we're talking about something, and once we make it into our individual stalls, I'm inclined to continue the conversation lest I risk losing what we're talking about with my terrible short-term memory. But I do understand that when someone needs to "Do her buisness" in the little privacy we're allowed as we're treated to the sounds and tinkles of those around us.

Much like my telephone etiquette, depending on how well I know my bathroom companion, I may or may not pause out of some unspoken respect. Most of the time, particularly if we're having an engaging enough conversation, I'll keep going, regardless.

Yesterday, I was out with a good friend when we both had to make a run for the loo. We were chatting about something, and when it seemed the conversation was going to continue as we relived ourselves, we were interrupted by a woman making her presence known as she was camped out in the handicapped stall. She then proceeded telling us how it was the penthouse of bathroom stalls and likes it, and then started chatting how talking while on the toilet was antisocial. "Antisocial?" I asked, "Don't you mean...it being a faux pas?" And she agreed. And then continued on about this and that, how she's a poet and has a meeting, and hopes to get a ride home with someone since she didn't have a jacket...

I was peeing like a racehorse as this woman who jacked our conversation just kept talking and the conversation got stranger and stranger. At that point, I wasn't sure if I even wanted to meet this entity from the handicapped stall, as I was perfectly comfortable keeping our relationship between partitions and the acoustics of the restroom, so I dashed to wash my hands, said my goodbyes to the lady behind the handicapped stall, and my friend and I got out of there post-haste.

I would otherwise say I really dig messing with people's comfortability in social situations like these, but I think I have finally met my match.

Mid Life Crisis Control

Whenever I've felt a little down and out, I meditate on this secret mantra I've never shared with anyone: "If Peter is still alive and out there, then all is right with the world."

Peter is more than a dreamer: he is also a dream-chaser. Unlike others who sing of their hopes and dreams as lotus-eaters would, he would dream something up and would go out in the world and go for it; something I've always loved and admired in the short time he's breezed in and out of my life.

It may seem strange to make one's bellwether for the world a total idealist, but he's never led me astray. It came no surprise to me that he, along with most people I know, had one doozy of a last year, and now, much like many people (including myself), he is scrappin' by as best he can while he tries to find that lucky door Opportunity is behind, just about to knock.

We always seem to find each other again at the perfect time: one or both of us will have an idea incubating, but it isn't until we're with the other that this/ese idea/s really take off, since we always seem to catalyze each other into action.

The one big thing working against us now is time. We're not as young and are aware of our limitations at this point. This is not to say that we're past our prime, but it won't be long before time will be working against us, and we'll be too deaf to hear Opportunity knock at our doors.

Hopefully our aged and experienced selves hasn't put us in a stupor enough not to take action, and with each others' encouragement and egging on, we'll continue to ride the wave of inspiration so that we can reach our dreams.