Being the Chendaddy

2002-05-12T16:57:00.000-04:00

This is my last entry.

Moving to the country, gonna eat a lot of peaches. I'm moving to the country, I'm gonna eat me a lot of peaches.

And then after that I'm going to stay with Xanga. Hey, I got to stick with a site where I know there won't be a day when I sign on and all of a sudden all my entries aren't there anymore. I'm trying to fight falling asleep right now. I'm also listening to a playlist to get my inspired juices flowing, so every once in a while I'll pop in some lyrics that stand out. So pour yourself a Jack and Coke, kiddies, and kick back. I'll try to make this more interesting than a night with your Business & Society book, but if there's porn waiting to be looked at then I'm shit outta luck.

It's always raining in my head. Forget all the things I should have said.

This has been the story of one semester. About the end of one pitiful kid's sophomore year of college. This kid's running out of time. These are the last of the days that will determine who I'll grow up to be. It's a like guy trying his damnedest to cut the steering wheel when it's already too late to stop his car from driving off a cliff. This has been a horrible semester. The high point has to be going to London, the low point losing my house, and yet neither of those things really touched me. Actually, that wasn't the low point.

I would hate for you to find somebody new who you really love, 'cause it would mean losing you.

There has been a lot of drinking. Oh hells yes, motherfucker. Yet to be perfectly honest, except for the fire extinguisher, everything I've done drunk I've also done while sober and then some. Urinating in public, screaming with my shirt off, attacking inanimate objects, dancing like an idiot, talking to completely random ladies, public indecency, they've all been done. It's just that I need a special occasion to make those things happen sober. There are no special occasions at Carnegie Mellon. Alcohol is a special occasion. One that happens several times a week. But I drank too much. Something happened between freshman year and now that made me go from "Be responsible. Drink in moderation." to "Fuck it!" A lot has changed since freshman year. The purest man in the world is the most naive man in the world, and the evilest man in the world is the most ignorant man in the world. Knowledge brings emptiness.

Tell me how it feels to be the one who turns the knife inside of me.

I don't even drink for myself anymore. I drink in retaliation. Freshman year, I drank for myself. Five drinks a night, and that'd be it. That's still about right. About five drinks are for Chendaddy. Maybe less. The other ten are for Carnegie Mellon, for whatsherface, for whatsherface #2, for whatsherface #3, for the regression final, for not having an internship, for everything else that bothers the shit out of me. Would I drink less if I had a perfect girlfriend, even one who also drinks like a, well, like a Chendaddy? When was the last time my bro Mark got plastered? I bet he can't remember either.

I want you to be free. Don't worry about me.

I'm sure there are a lot of guys out there who wear their feelings blatantly on their sleeve (or blatantly in their pants), but I'm not one of them. Why should I tell you how I feel about you if you don't give a shit? Well I took that chance this semester. I got it out. Guys, if you don't think they give a shit, you're probably right. Haha, wow, I just realized my friends were completely right. Never get too attached to your platonic friends. You're painstakingly paving a road to Cocksuckerville. Population: You. Shit, I had it right at the beginning of the year! Somewhere along the way I got lost. Somewhere along the way I started to care. Somewhere along the way I stopped wanting to just have fun and started wanting to be with someone. Somewhere along the way I became a bitch.

Platonic friends are there to hook you up with their hot friends and to provide guilt-free booty. Enjoying their company is secondary. But if the first two aren't happening, then you're wasting your fucking time. Get out of there. Do I sound harsh? Do I sound demeaning? Do I sound like I give a shit? Girls use guys all the time for emotional fulfillment. They love guys who can take care of them, make them feel secure, better about themselves. But they can do it without getting attached, without actually caring about you. It's the equivalent of a guy fucking a girl, leaving a hundred on her dresser, and then bouncing out. You can open and close your hearts so easily, but open your damn pants and all hell breaks loose.

I don't want that ho. I don't love that ho.

I'm sure there are girls who are just the exact opposite. And you know what? Those'll be the girls I'll be looking for next year. I'll take the slut with the heart of gold over the selfish prude/bitchass anyday. I can double-bag it for the first one, but there's no protection you can use if you get mixed up with the second. The only abstinence you need to think about is staying away from the chicks who tease your mind, not your cock. Now is that easy lay the kind of girl I want as my wife? Fucks no! But you think I can find a beautiful girl who's got it all at CMU? Be a slave to your sanity or the master of your own ruin. This is my way of lowering the bar.

There's not much to examine. Nothing left to hide. You really can't be serious. You have to ask me why I said goodbye?

That certainly was well over the healthy dose of chick-bashing. I was going to move on to CMU-bashing, but then I suddenly realized that after all that, I really don't have much to bash about CMU. Pittsburgh sucks. Cliques suck. Nerds suck. Tools suck. Every week I meet someone I want to punch in the fucking face. There are too many fuglies and not enough hot girls. And there certainly is a lot of incompetency for a presitigious university that costs 35 G's a year to go to. But all that shit's old news. Right now it's just smoke on the water compared to the three big paragraphs above it. What the hell is smoke on the water anyway? A good Deep Purple song. I don't know what I'm talking about.

So is this all I learned from this semester? This is the semester when I had my first trip to Europe and when my house was destroyed by a tornado, and that's all I learned? Yup. Seriously, what else is there? I already know I can count on my bros. I already know I'm a lazy bitch but can pull through when needed. I already know about patience and getting back up after every fall. Etc. etc. etc. Nothing else is new. Nothing else I can't handle. What else is important? The fundamental attribution error? The loglinear regression model? I'll put a loglinear in your mouth. This is how stupid CMU is. This how stagnant my life is. What can I do but keep living? It's been a shitty semester but I'm still alive. I'm still kicking. I'm not broken. I'll be back for round 5. Mama said knock you out, bitch. Yeah, I'll have that drink now.

It's all right to tell me what you think about me. I won't try to argue or hold it against you. I know that you're leaving. You must have your reasons. The season is calling, and your pictures are falling down. The steps that I retrace. The sad look on your face. The timing and structure. Did you hear? He fucked her. A day late. A buck short. I'm writing the report on losing and failing. When I move I'm flailing now. And it's happened once again. I'll turn to a friend. Someone that understands. Sees through the master plan. But everybody's gone. And I've been here for too long. To face this on my own. Well I guess this is growing up.

Well I guess this is growing up.

And maybe I'll see you at a movie sneak preview. You'll show up and walk by on the arm of that guy. And I'll smile, and you'll wave. We'll pretend it's okay. This charade, it won't last. When he's gone, I won't come back. And it'll happen once again. You'll turn to a friend. Someone that understands. Sees through the master plan. But everybody's gone. And you've been there for too long to face this on your own. Well I guess this is growing up.

I guess this is growing up . . .

Peace.

2002-05-11T21:36:00.000-04:00

Chendaddy's fun vacation back home

Kodak max cameras suck.

2002-05-08T23:29:00.000-04:00

One more week to get some hot Carnegie ass! Hells yeah!!

Yeah . . .

Things are kind of back to normal here. Yeah, so I feel pretty shitty again. I shouldn't even expect things to be different anymore. Some things are not worth salvaging. I look at myself when I came to CMU and I look at myself now, and I hate who I have become. This is who I'm growing up to be? All the lessons learned. All the knowledge. All the wisdom. All the strength. All the resilience. All the sensibility. All the maturity. I'd trade every last bit to know just once what it feels like to have someone to come home to.

I just want to go home. I just want to play basketball with my boys. I don't want to be a part of this anymore.

I don't want any fucking Carnegie ass.

I've tried
Like you
To do everything you wanted to
This is
The last time
I'll take the blame for the sake of being with you

Everything falls apart
Even the people who never frown
Eventually break down

The sacrifice of hiding in a lie

Everything has to end
You'll soon find we're out of time
To watch it all unwind

The sacrifice is never knowing

Why I never walked away
Why I played myself this way
Now I see
Your testing me
Pushes me away . . .

- Linkin Park

2002-05-06T08:00:00.000-04:00

You have to look for it, but it's pretty easy to spot. The trick is to interpret it. Maybe they see someone they know. Maybe they're happy about the weather. Maybe they're thinking about the time they caught you with your finger up your nose. Or ass. But sometimes, they just didn't wait long enough. They're still in sight. I'm still watching. And the shields come down. Then there it is. A thought. A grin. A smile. Yeah baby. Don't let Chendaddy catch you, ladies. His head's already too big for his own good. ;-)

I saw "A Walk to Remember" last night. What a 90-min sobfest. It really puts every relationship (ok ok, every crush) I've ever had to shit. I think that's the point of these chick flicks. But watch it anyway. With a girl. Guaranteed booty. Not a real guarantee. Plus Mandy Moore's pretty homely-looking the whole movie for those of you considering giving yourself booty.

2002-05-05T19:15:00.000-04:00

I was just reading Alex's Xanga, and that reminded me of something. First of all, you think I write long blogs, look at this mofo. Ok ok, so it's pretty comparable in length, but his shit's pretty amusing so you keep reading. Or at least I do. Me, I have to put pictures of hot girls or my nonexistent house up once in a while to keep you entertained. Then there's this:

Anyway, the other thing was that I was wrong before. It does pay off to take that risk. Sure, it shakes shit up, but sometimes that's what you gotta do before you flush. It's not pretty. It's not easy. You'll probably stall a lot. There may be some crying. And I know I gag a lot. But if you ever want to use that bowl again, you have to reach down and GRAB HOLD, MOTHERFUCKER! Believe me, letting it build up only creates a bigger problem. You won't regret it the next time you need to take a dump. Er, chance on someone. These metaphors just get carried away.

2002-05-05T18:23:00.000-04:00

First and least important event in my life: Yao Ming is in the NBA. Sure sure, there are two other Asians in there, but this guy's 7'5" and can hit 15-foot jumpers. A tall Asian that can shoot. Remind you of anybody? NO! It reminds you of NOBODY!

Yo, there is an insanely hot kind of tall, brunette girl at Donner. ::slobber:: Hey, there's some girl here who has my same APA t-shirt. I am attracted to women who own the same clothes I do.

Wait a minute.....that's not right.

My keyboard constantly stops working on me. And all the rebooting, sifting through the software, and cuddling the damn laptop doesn't do shit. Then today I realized that all I need to do is pound whichever keys aren't work. It never fails. After all the fucking torture I put myself through to make this work, all I needed to do was beat the damn thing. Of course, I'm afraid I'm going to break it permanently, but it works now right? It works for laundry machines, too. And a lot of guys seem to think it also works when the wife and kids stop working right. Hey, if it fixes the problem, how can anyone be surprised that people keep doing it?

I don't want to hear any jackasses thinking that I support domestic violence. Unless you're a computer-beater like me.

So I woke up this morning and I was still drunk. Not even hungover. My head actually still had that buzzed drunk feel. That was not fun. Especially considering I had to then shower and come to work. Then it became a hangover and that was even less fun. I had a conversation with Jong last night that he sent to me. Here's an interesting bit:

the red jong (3:52:34 AM):haha, good comeback flames
The Chendaddy (3:52:54 AM): your mom flamess my anus
The Chendaddy (3:52:59 AM): because she has venerial dieeseasase

Ok, so the spelling's a little off, but I thought that was pretty fucking clever of me to think of that. However later this came out:

The Chendaddy (3:56:02 AM): youhjr doujgie mballs is enjyoign in your mouth
the red jong (3:56:34 AM): haha, man ure not makin' any sense fucker

Yeah, so the house was totaled. Mine was by far the worst. Everyone else's were pretty much on the road to recovery. Mine was just a big pile of wood and toilets. Although someone else did lose his roof and everything inside his house, but his walls were still standing so I still win. Honestly, I'm even more a firm believer that I was targeted now. It leveled my house, it leveled my barn about 20 yards away, and everyone else's houses just seemed to be perimeter damage. If you want further proof, I found out that the Old Navy was actually untouched. Bastards!

It was nice of someone to cover my basement stairway with a big piece of wood to prevent it from flooding again during the rain. It was even nicer when that board prevented my head from slamming into the handrail when I stepped on it and fell through. See, I fell down one story, too. Just like the folks. That hurt like a bitch. Then Jong and I just sat on my fridge and stove and had a few Coronas. The Ohio National Guard driving around didn't seem to mind. I'm sitting on the foundation that used to be my fucking kitchen, what do you expect me to be doing?

We're rebuilding as a ranch. My mom has MS, so she doesn't like climbing up the steps anyway. That'll take around six months. We're staying at a townhouse until then. Nice neighborhood. Has a pool and tennis courts, but no basketball courts so I don't really give a damn. The Voyager and Corolla are in the shop, but other than a few dents a busted sideview mirror, the Taurus still stands strong.

The point of insurance is to prevent a disaster from becoming a tragedy. And that's what it's doing here. Total loss. Insurance is covering pretty much all of it. Some people live their entire lives without getting their money's worth from insurance. But Asians never let anything go to waste! On the other hand, last night I heard my friend Sharad lost one of his close friends. It doesn't matter how much life insurance that guy has, nothing will replace that person. I'm just lucky that both my folks survived. All we lost was stuff. What's stuff anyway? Expendable. Just time and a few memories lost.

Basically, we're going to be fine. Thanks once again to everyone who offered condolences and everyone who helped us and took us in. Thanks to the Tongs for feeding me and letting me stay with them while I was back in J-Town. I'll put up some pictures when I get them developed, and that should be the last I dwell on losing my house.

Quote of the times:
Mark to police officer questioning him - "We're Asian. We stick together."

2002-05-02T03:12:00.000-04:00

Today I found out that yet another one of my friends may not be coming back to Carnegie next year. Good ol' Matty C. One West alumni. Wants to be with his girlfriend in Villanova. There goes a good friend, as well as a damn good three-point shooter. It's really not my business to talk about it, but I hear his parents aren't too happy about the idea. Especially since he seems to be transferring just for his girlfriend.

But think about it, is this what you wanted your college experience to be? Scratch that. Forget what you thought college was going to be like. Are you happy with how it's turning out? I have written about this so so many times. I've asked the same questions over and over again. But I still haven't come up with any answers. Tim's going to read this and be like, "Shut the fuck up idiot Asian and transfer to OSU already. I like men." But I'm a bitch and I have bad experiences with making leaps of faith.

I mean, I can make fake excuses about boring parties and uglyass motherfuckers all day, but taking that chance is really what it comes down to. Am I willing to do something to change things? Ok, I am taking 50 steps back, looking at my life, and saying it shouldn't be all that bad. I have great friends. The parties here, though they get old, are still a lot of fun. And the girls? Yeah, there are some serious Sasquatch sightings on this campus, but there are some honeys too. Now their personalities . . . you know what? The girls here DO suck. I'm sorry, that may be a generalization, but that's the truth. Hey, I wouldn't say anything to ruin any remaining chances I have at getting women here if it weren't true.

Matt isolated himself a lot, so I can imagine he's not too happy here. I don't. I'm out there. Am I happy with how my college experience is turning out? Hell no. If this is the four best years of my life, kill me now. So if I'm already miserable, then I should do something about it to have a chance at happiness or at least change right? Sound familiar? I'm that guy at camp who knows better than to do that fucking fall backwards exercise but gets suckered into it anyway. Dammit, if I'm going to fall, I'll fall on my face, not on my back.

Matty C, he's ready to fall and he doesn't care which way he does. So what if he's leaving for his girlfriend? If that's why he's not happy here, then that's reason enough to leave. Well here's to him, man. May you find a better life out there. And if you don't make it out, well, then bottoms up. And what about me?

Bottoms up, baby.

2002-04-30T17:10:00.000-04:00

One more thing. I really really appreciate everyone IMing and calling and talking to me about what happened. Thank you. It means a lot to know that so many of you care. I really wish that I could personally respond to everyone and individually thank all of you.

But I can't, and knowing that you care is really more than enough. So thanks for your thoughts and prayers, but seriously, cut it out.

2002-04-30T16:52:00.000-04:00

I keep seeing more and more news on my house. Being here at Carnegie and not losing anything in my current possession, this totally feels like I'm just following some news event and not actually living it. I finally heard from both my parents. Mom says I should stay here over the weekend and concentrate on finals. Fuck that, I can't concentrate on shit. When it happened, that was all I can think about. But there certainly was a lot of shit going on before my house went down, and now all that is starting to come back to haunt me too. Great.

The local NBC news station came to interview my mom yesterday. Jong tells me ABC and FOX came today. I told him to pretend to be me and tell everyone to get off my damn lawn. No such luck. I shouldn't be like that. I appreciate the help cleaning up (or looting) my place, but I really wanted to be there to see what I can pick out of the debris. I mean, I know what I want to keep. As it is, the bulldozers are coming in today to clear out the rest of the crap. By the time I get there Friday, I'll probably just be looking at the foundation.

I can't believe it's going to cost $70 to get home. Seventy bones to see my hole in the ground! If you know anyone who's going from Pittsburgh to Akron Friday then back Saturday and wants to do the companion fare deal, point him/her my way. Anyway, this is the best photo I've seen so far.

The house that's completely flattened is mine. Hopefully I can get a real feel for it Friday. We'll see.

2002-04-29T14:54:00.000-04:00

My house is newsworthy now that it's no longer there. This is actually my first look at what's left of home.

My house, or at least that's what the caption said. I can't even tell.

Parking lot of the Old Navy that fired me

My Taurus. Still standing strong.

2002-04-29T04:04:00.000-04:00

It's 3:30 am and I'm not even half done with all the work I have due tomorrow. But I'm bored, and frankly I don't give a fuck about how the seasonal model fails to represent the increasing overall trend of the data set.

So here's an update about my house status. I finally managed to reach my parents. Mark actually drove all the way down to Jackson and snuck passed the police to talk to some Red Cross workers about where my parents might be. They were sent to a local hospital. As I was talking to him on the phone, the popo arrived and started questioning him. I had to feed him a few answers, but the Asian man escaped being arrested for tonight. I just have to let my parents know that Mark is their nephew, and he went looking for his Uncle Chen. Here's a classic line to feed the police: "We're Asian. We stick together." It took a lot of calling around, but finally I reached my dad at Massillon Community Hospital. He's got a broken collar bone, but he'll be fine. Mom's staying at a friend's house who I'll call later today.

Damage report from Mark: the house is leveled, just as everyone else told me. Only thing standing? The Ford Taurus. That's right. The Corolla and Voyager in the garage are crushed. But my Taurus parked outside only suffered minor dents. Built to last, baby. After all the love I put into that mutha, that's great to hear. Here's something fucked up though. My house is gone. The house next to mine is gone. The house next to that one is gone. And that's it. One house across the street only lost its roof, and one across a different street wasn't touched at all. Apparently this tornado touched down right on my house. Like God himself put his finger down and crushed it. Thanks.

Another finger fell on a Border's a few miles away. Those overpricing bastards should've seen it coming. I heard the Old Navy that fired me for fraudulent honesty issues (aka me being TOO honest) got wasted, too. Fucks yeah. A small consolation is still a consolation.

I have to thank everyone who IMed me, called me, talked to me about this. It means a lot to know that all of you care, and I won't forget that. Specific thanks to Tim who clued me in on the whole thing. And special big props has to go to my bro, Mark. Without him, I would not have found my parents tonight. That's what brotherhood's about. On a different note, I'd like to send two big Fuck You's to the receptionists working the third shifts at the Aultman and Mercy Medical ERs. How about remembering that your job is to answer the phone and help people who call, not whine about how fucking stupid you are.

Anyway, I'm taking the Greyhound home (or what's left of home) this Friday after my Psych test and probably coming back to Carnegie on Sunday. I'd like to go today, but it simply would be way too inconvenient without a friend who can drive me around and give me a place to stay. Thanks Jong. But this weekend, he and I are heading over to the wreckage that was once my house to take some pictures and salvage anything we can find. Then we'll loot the damn place. Nah, that'd would've been done already by the time I get back. I doubt we'll find anything. The people cleaning up my house'll probably throw away everything. That's why I want to be there tomorrow to say, "Damn kids, get the fuck off my lawn!" Oh well. At least I got the Taurus, baby. At least I got the Taurus.

2002-04-28T18:07:00.000-04:00

I have no house.

I wish I could write about how much fun I had last night. How the Tri-delt formal was the most fun I've had while sober. I wish I could tell you that if I had to be sober, then I couldn't have done better than Allison for a date. I wish I could just say how much fun I had with her, Jamie, Andrew, Jon, and all the people I met.

But I have no house. Sometime today a tornado came through Jackson Township. It wrecked the Middle School and my neighborhood. I almost didn't believe it when Timmy L told me about it, but I don't think Mrs. Schmidt down the road would lie to me.

Basically, this is what I know. My parents are fine. They are at a neighbor's, and I think they're trying to call my cell but when I pick up I don't hear anything. I called my house, but obviously no one picked up. Neither did the answering machine which is probably 10 mi down the road in someone's roof by now. My house is gone. As Mrs. Schmidt said, "You can't even tell that there was a house there." She didn't sound too happy having to tell me that. Our cars are gone. My mom's medication is gone. The computer that held all the information for my mom's business that was paying part of my tuition is gone. Here's something even more fucked up. Jong's trying to call home. No one's picking up and the answering machine's not answering. Familiar. He called someone down the road, but same circumstance. He said he'd talk to his parents and see if we can stay with them. God, I hope they still have a place to stay.

I guess on a half-assed lucky note, everything else that's been bothering me is totally insignificant now. I pretty much grew up in Ohio. And we always had to deal with tornado warnings, but a tornado never hit so no one ever really cared that much. And except for maybe two or so years of my life, I honestly didn't care if a tornado hit and fucked us all up. Yeah, I didn't have a happy childhood. In fact, when I heard that Pittsburgh was under a tornado warning this morning, I hoped that it would hit us. More specifically, I hoped that it would hit me. Blast me the fuck away. I always wanted something big to happen to my life. Ironic. Because this sucks.

All I can do is just keep my thoughts focused. I have three more weeks left. I have to concentrate on finals. On getting shit done. But then I'm going home. I'm not going anywhere else. I don't have a fucking internship anyway. I want to see it. It doesn't seem right that I'm this far away from it all. I'm so distant. Fuck it, I think I want to go home this weekend. I've got all these confused emotions going on. Like how bad is it going to be? Who else is in my situation? I can't get a feel for what's going on in Pittsburgh. I'm sure the town'll pull through and help all the people who suffered losses. I hope it does. But this is just something unbelievable.

I'm just thinking about what I lost. Luckily, most of my important stuff is here on campus. But I did lose some things. My CD covers. The software for my ethernet cable. My yearbooks. My prom photos. Hell, all my photos. All my childhood. Heh, at least I still got this one:

Well, that's a start I guess. All I can do is just see where it goes from there.

2002-04-27T14:20:00.000-04:00

You know who I miss? This hot Russian chick I was talking to at Tower City last summer. Ask Marke how hot this girl was. DAMN. Man, it's a shame I met her as we were leaving for Cedarville. But she dug the blue hair, man. I gots to say hi! The blue hair. I totally need blue hair again. Because HOT Russian chicks in tight black pants dig that. Damn. I went to the wrong college.

2002-04-26T20:24:00.000-04:00

I wrote an incredibly depressing blog. Like it sickened me to read it. I can't force that upon anyone, so I deleted it.

"Don't think about it. Don't drink about it." - Marhelo

I'll get over this. As I always do. And I'll be a little stronger. A little wiser. A little more determined. A little more distant. A little less trusting. A little colder. A little more bitter. A little less compassionate. A little more vengeful. A lot less human. I feel like Jong at the beginning of Freshman year, when he believed that he was destined to get fucked over. I was cleaning out my e-mail folders a while ago, and I came across the e-mail I wrote him. That was seriously the best piece of writing I had ever written. In fact, I wrote that instead of my Interp essay. And it worked. Jong got over it and came out a better man. "Fuck it," I said, "just fuck it." That works. About the first 300 times you say it.

I have so much more on my mind, but it's just too depressing. On a lighter note, I'm watching "When Animals Invade Your Home" on Fox. They nabbed a monkey off a power transformer and said they "returned it to its owner." Fuck that, you know the shot the poor little shit. That's a free meal right there.

I know I know. Everyone says the same thing: don't let one incident be the judge of everything.

If you have to choose between being a fool and suffering, don't choose both.

Just suffer.

And I know it aches
And your heart it breaks
You can only take so much
Walk on
Leave it behind
You've got to leave it behind . . .

- U2

2002-04-26T14:02:00.000-04:00

"I'm starting to think that not showing when people bother me is a bad thing. If someone shits on you and you seems to be ok with it, she'll keep it coming. But then being upset and a bitch about it isn't any better. " - Previous Blog

Why does everything I say come back to haunt me? Everytime I just let it slide. My policy has always been "Fuck it, get over it. No one can touch you. Move on." And it works. I know I've written it before, but I'm good at it. Like poker. Play it safe. Don't make risky bets. But you keep watching, and you keep learning the moves. Learning the game. Until you're that much better, and then one day you're the pimp. But I never make it that far. I get impatient. I want to see results. I see any chance and I put it all on the line. And you know what? More often than not, it pays out. Because of sheer confidence. And the times it doesn't? Well, there's always another game.

But this isn't poker. For every loss, for every rejection, for every mistake, for every lesson learned, I become a little stronger. I become a little wiser. A little quicker on my feet. A little more determined. A little less attached to those who I'm not sure I can count on. A little less trusting. A little colder. A little more bitter. A little less compassionate. A little more vengeful. And I lose a little more of my humanity.

Talk to the veterans of any major war who came back unbroken. Are they stronger from the experience? You bet. But, economics aside, they'd have to be some sick motherfuckers to actually think that war is a great thing. But they come out with an experience of a lifetime, and those who make it out together are brothers forever. I'm not anywhere close to a veteran. But I know who are my brothers. And there's a reason for that. There's a reason I have a brother who would climb out of bed with his girlfriend at 2 am to make sure I was alright. And my brother tells me that it's better to be a fool once than to suffer forever.

I'm sorry, I've said too much. I'm sorry, I've betrayed someone's trust. Once. It's selfish. It's human.

What does not kill you makes you less human.

It's time to start acting like one. Stay tuned for results.

2002-04-25T01:04:00.000-04:00

I made this little picture for my background. The quote is from "Carlito's Way," a classic Pacino film about getting out of the game. Rappers love this quote. I decide I do, too. I especially like how the text resembles a crucifix, and Carlito sports a Son-of-Manlike shag on his face. Fitting, if you've ever seen the movie and know what scene this quote is from. I just wish I had a better picture. Finding pictures of Carlito Brigante isn't quite the same as finding the one of thousands of Britney Spears jerk-off sites.

As usual, people see me quoting this kind of stuff and think I'm depressed. Pfft. Come on now. I go to CARNEGIE. Anyone who knows me should know I'm depressed without having to read the stuff I write.

So here's a lesson learned. Before I came to Carnegie, I was a happy, glassy-eyed youth with so much hope for the future. I remember I told everyone, "You know, I may not find my future wife at CMU (Hey, I visited. I could taste the ugly in the air.), but I'll definitely find my future wife while I'm in college." That could very well be true. But I recognized early on that I was doing it all wrong. See, I was out looking for my bride. Instead, I should've been out looking for honeys and not caring which one I'd be buying a rock for. But then sometime between going home and seeing amazingly gorgeous girls in my old high school and . . . . . . and you know what? I'm sick of talking about this shit. Yeah, this is seriously boring me. I'm going to leave you hanging. Just if you're going to get with someone, make sure she feels exactly the same way you do. And don't make choices beyond a certain point of ass-drunkenness. And don't finger anyone's asshole. That's just bad karma.

I listen and I listen and I listen, but when I speak, everyone's deaf. Ok, that's not true. I'm just not the kind of guy who comes out and says, "Hey random friend, I have to talk to someone because I'm so scared and is this a lump on my testicle?" Hell no. You wanna see my testicle, ask to see my testicle, because I don't go introducing my boys to everyone. Otherwise, I'd probably just go on living with a tumor on my balls til the end of my days. Believe me, there are some pretty bad lumps down there. Or maybe that's just because I'm not treating them. I guess it's one of those things where I think I can take care of them myself, but not a day goes without something causing inflammation. I don't know if I'm talking about my personal issues or if I actually have testicular cancer anymore.

I'm starting to think that not showing when people bother me is a bad thing. If someone shits on you and you seems to be ok with it, she'll keep it coming. But then being upset and a bitch about it isn't any better.

So everyone's switching to Xanga. Ok, Xanga is not an online diary, it's a club. On Blogger, you just post your thoughts and that's it. On Xanga, you have your little profile, your list of friends, the whole cliquey thing. Yeah, it's pretty damn Asian. Actually, I know a lot of people who have online diaries, but other than Liz, they're all Asian. Go Liz! Way to rep blonde white chicks!! =D Ok, back to anger. Anyway, despite all this I'm going to switch over to Xanga. Why? Because Blogger's staff has fallen to one person, and I'm always afraid one day I'm going to go to www.blogger.com and it won't be there. So after this semester, I'm shutting down shop and joining the trendy bastards over at the competition. I'm really not looking forward to seeing comments like "You're fucked up" or "Hehehe, you're so funny!" or "What a flaming queerass" or "NSync rulez!" on my posts.

Eh. That's my life. Si la vie. Eh.

Ok, I think I'm overdue for a drunk post. Gotta get them creative juices flowing.

2002-04-21T19:32:00.000-04:00

I think the reason I've been tired so much has got to be excessive drinking. Jong and Da E-Y came up for Carnival. They puked. I didn't. I win. Yup, I even outdrank the 250 lb beast. I am such a drunk. Carnival a week and a half after five days in London? I don't know who's suffering more, my liver or my checking account? I dropped $1300 on London. Friday was pretty lucid for me as I had to shake off my usual stupor to be the responsible drunk (E-Y wasn't as hard as I'd imagine he'd be to move). So I pretty much remember what happened and what I put into my mouth. Since I'm bored and falling asleep at work, this is a cost analysis of my alcoholism:

Pregame (Own Supply):
Four shots (4 fl. oz) of Bacardi 151: $2.66
Two shots (2 fl. oz) of Absolut Kurant: $1.44
One shot of & two mixed drinks with (~3 fl. oz) Captain Morgan Spiced Rum: $1.50

Not included: All the shots and mixed drinks from Chendaddy/Whitey stock by seven other people
Value: I don't know, but we're getting that money back. Casa de Chendaddy ain't a soup kitchen!
Seems like it's still so far so good. You want to talk about cost efficiency? Drink your own shit. But then to keep the night going...

Party (At Bar w/ Tipping):
Cover: $5 (still a rip-off after a one and half hour wait for a fucking cheese wagon to pick us up)
Two long-island iced teas: $13.00

Not included: One amaretto sour, two long-islands, one rum and coke purchased for other people
Value: $25
The costs of friendship. Do they really outweight the benefits? Hehe. That's not really that funny now that I'm checking my account balance. Hey, E-Y ripped me off that fat drunk bastard!

Post-party (Someone Else's Supply)
One Corona: Free
Three Coors: Free

Not included: E-Y vomiting in toilet.
Value: It's not like he missed.

So alcohol cost me at least $48.60 for the night. I must be so fucking bored to calculate all that. I guess I am a CMU student. Suddenly I don't think it's such a good idea to post all that to my public blogger. That's ok though, because I'm an idiot. Current time is 6:54 pm. I'm so glad I only have about an hour left. This is seriously not work. What do I do? I look at people who walk in the door. I hand the phone to deliverymen. I give change. The hardest and most work I ever do is counting money. In a five-hour shift, I'd say I do a total of 15 minutes of actual work. I count slow. And I get paid $32.50. God bless America.

Granted, if a serial killer ever ran in here, I am the first line of defense, i.e. the first son of a bitch to get shot. Fuck that. Some crazy motherfucker walks into Donner with a gun and I'm running for the closest fire exit. This sweet Asian ass ain't about to die for a bunch of punk CMU students. I'll take a bullet for my bros, a few members of my family, extremely attractive women, and both Big Boi and Andre 3000 of Outkast. That's it. I'm sorry. I like myself. Ok, ok, fine. Maybe if you were borderline hot. And rich. Filthy filthy rich.

2002-04-17T19:26:00.000-04:00

I don't think I've read another blogger with as much profanity as mine. I threw my last blog into MS Word and came out with this:

Total Word Count: 382
Flesch Reading Ease: 83.4%
Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level: 4.1 (I write like a fourth-grader! Haha, I'm a bitch!)

Total Profanity Count: 11
"Fuck": 2
"Shit": 7
"Ass": 1
"Bitch": 1
Original Compositions: 0

Profanity-to-Words Rate: 2.880%
Profanity Level: Elementary

2002-04-17T19:15:00.000-04:00

A lot of people call me immature. That is one thing I totally cannot stand. If you want to piss me off, call me immature. Especially when you're actually less mature than I am. Fucking jackasses who roll around in a pile of their own ignorance. It's like my roommate Jay last semester when I made generalizations about FOBs and Azns. He set me straight about that. Too bad I totally forget everything he said.

Anyway, anyone who has ever gone through some real shit with me knows that I'm not a child. I act like one though. Of course. How fucking boring would life be if we all acted like our parents all the time? Or at least like MY parents? I'd shoot myself in the face. Of course when the shit goes down, I know I have a solid foundation of maturity to fall back on. I'm 19. I'm not an irresponsible little bitch throwing around mom and dad's money, although I see plenty of them on campus. At the same time, I'm also not ready to settle down and start having kids and shitting myself just yet.

I used to be a really good listener. Like I would hear everything you say and know exactly what to say to make you feel better. I could listen to you for hours, then talk for hours about you. I genuinely cared about anything you had to say. You can't even comprehend it. Like the best person I knew for someone to talk to was myself. I think that's probably why I write all this shit to myself.

Nowadays? I don't even give a shit. Why? I think it started when I realized that you don't really give a shit what I have to say. You can't even pretend very well. Anyway, I don't know if it's a lack of practice or a lack of enthusiasm, but I am just no good at those deep, help each other conversations anymore. But I bet I can still fake it much better than you can. Hell, you suck at it.

I hate the fact that my blogs are getting more and more bitter. It makes for boring reading. My life is stagnant, therefore my writing is stagnant. I think I'm going to shit myself.

2002-04-16T13:36:00.000-04:00

Those aren't beliefs, man, that's rhetoric. That's weak, man. That's mainstream. I can't be a part of that.

2002-04-16T01:47:00.000-04:00

I saw this 20/20 documentary in Social Psych today that really pissed me off. It was about this incident that happened at Brown I guess a few years ago. This guy went over to his friend's place to borrow at CD. There happened to be a party at said friend's place, and the guy stumbled across a drunk girl waking up. He invited her over for a glass of water and told her she could stay at his place. She got up on him, told him to bust out the rubber, and they got it on. The next morning, she left her number, asked him to call her, then left. A week later, they met up, everything was fine. Five weeks later, she charged him with rape.

Stop. Recap: Stupid bitch makes mistake, now trying to blame the other guy. It gets better.

The university suspends the guy. He sues. The university reduces his sentence and puts him on probation and makes him, not the drunk bitch but the guy, take alcohol abuse counseling. The bitch says all women should speak out, but refuses an interview. But here's the best part. A mob mentality formed on campus. A bunch of people gather around and decide they're the sole voice of morality on campus. They don't think this guy or any guy accused of rape should be given any benefit of doubt and should just be booted off campus. They chant rhetoric like "Sexual assault is not TV hype! Sexual assault is not TV hype!" when the news people try to ask them questions. People like them make threatening phone calls to this guy before dawn, whisper behind his back, basically ostracize him completely from society. He can't take it, he leaves. His senior year of college and he leaves.

Yeah, I know the news always paints a one-sided story. And university policy did say that it was unlawful to knowingly take advantage of any drunk individual. But do you think these close-minded shitheads operating under their own perverted version of the law are any less dangerous than a gang of guys going around molesting people? Are the Nazis any less dangerous? Or the KKK? Seriously, these people belong in prison just as much as rapists do. Go take a shower, shithead. Drop your soap and, oh, so that's rape. Bitch. There's a serious flaw in society when fuckers like that get to judge some kid too horny for his own good while they remain untouchable. People who refuse to listen and learn how blind and deaf they are.

What can you say to people like that?

Get fucked.

2002-04-14T16:53:00.000-04:00

It's humid-ass days when I've waited too long to get a haircut like these that really make me want to shave my head. Last year I dyed it blue, might as well do something crazy this year too. I did some research into this.

This is approximately what I look like now:

And this is approximately what I'd look like if I shaved my head:

I think it's fair to say that my life would change for the better.

2002-04-14T05:02:00.000-04:00

relaxd. dont do it. let it go. BOINMK BOINK BOINKB OUBNMKBJOJ O9BUPOBIKNBKMBOIBONK BU HATE Y

2002-04-12T14:18:00.000-04:00

So I was sitting there in Regression recitation today staring out the window, when it occurs to me that I never really put the effort into looking up the details of transferring. I sort of just believed that I wouldn't get any financial aid or scholarships or anything like that. Here's what I do know, going to OSU paying in-state tuition with absolutely no aid is financially the same as going to CMU with the grants and similar shiat I'm getting now. I'm not going to leave CMU to go to OSU. It's not that CMU has a lack of hot girls, it's that CMU has a lack of people. And CMU has too many guys and ugly girls. Jesus Hernando Valdez, why the hell does it keep coming back to girls?

I think this is the first time in my life where I actually am trying hard to get good grades, but I'm only ending up with B's. That's some shit. Sometimes I wonder about Whitey. He gets better grades than me, yet he doesn't seem too bright. Plus he refers to virginity as the "v-chip." V-chip. It's that kind of terminology that's allowing Asians to dominate the business world while putting the white American male where he belongs: on his knees kissing my sweet Asian ass. Ok, ok, I'm not really anti-White; I'm just anti-Whitey.

Actually, I think my dream is to go to the 10-year J-Town high school reunion and tell everyone that I now own all of them so kiss my sweet Asian ass. And use tongue.

Yeah, that's kind of gross. I don't even want to see most of them again, much less have their tongues in my ass. Oh well, I'll figure that out when the time comes.

2002-04-10T18:20:00.000-04:00

Hey! More random shit from my day. DA's are supposed to check for CMU id's now when people enter dorms, and everyone hates it. The DA has to do his/her job so s/he kind of feels obligated to stare at you hoping you'll flash some id without him/her having to embarassingly asking your sorry ass to do so. Not that they ever ask. But people just run in while trying to avoid their gaze and escape. Not me. I come in. Give a big "What? What? Say it! Ask for my id, BITCH, I dare you!!" grin. Say, "Hi." Walk off. Hey, the Morewood DA there right now's kind of cute, too. Chendaddy likes that.

So I ran into Kelly Gold today, and I told her I didn't want to go eat because I just ate. For some reason I didn't want to say, "I don't want to go eat because I have 50 cents in my pockets and about the same in my checking account right now." People, people, there's no reason to be ashamed of poverty, only that you're not doing anything about it. So if you wish to contribute to the cause by sliding cash under my door, please do so and feel better about yourself. Yeah, ok, or I guess you can send that shit to some 5-year old kid in Madagascar instead, but you know he's just going to use it to buy that crazy Madagascan whiskey!

Just so there's no confusion, I would like to point out that I actually don't have asthma.

2002-04-10T16:16:00.000-04:00

I'm pretty bored, so I decided to let you see what I'm listening to right now because you really care about me and want to bear my asthmatic kids.

2002-04-10T12:08:00.000-04:00

So occasionally I have a lot on my mind and I blog and you get what I call "masterpieces" but others call "what the fuck I'm not gonna read all this shit." Then sometimes I have a lot on my mind but I wait to blog and it's just not the same. Well today I don't really have anything on my mind, but I figure I'd blog anyway and see wassup.

These Chef Boyardee mini-raviolis are good, man.

Oh, so I saw this commercial for this asthma medication last night and suddenly I really wanted a girlfriend who'd become my wife who'd bear my asthma-afflicted children.

I pulled up to a house about seven or eight, and I yelled to the cabbie, "Yo homes, smell you later!" I looked at my kingdom. I was finally there to sit on my throne as the prince of Bel-Air.

Willa Ford looks pretty slutty. Chendaddy like that.

I am one broke mutha.

The Chendaddy (11:38:02 PM): tho if u go to a crap school like mine, u're gonna have some issues too :-P
AjmCOE (11:39:06 PM): ah there'll be issues anywhere you go

2002-04-08T21:35:00.000-04:00

I cannot believe I just left my laundry in the dryer and didn't pick them up in the two hours I had before this four-hour shift. Life is unfair. It's not like I kill puppies or anything.

I don't know what I look like when I'm dancing and I don't want to know what I look like when I'm dancing.

It sucked that the hottest British girl we saw in London was on our flight back to JFK. That's all I can really complain about London. What else can I say? It was one huge, incredible party. Drinking Vodka Kicks. Hitting on the bartender. Harper and me using the same line on the Shakira-wannabe. Amit disappearing for an hour at the classiest the strip club in London. Kicking trash cans into the street. Calling whores and pretending I was Whitey.

Memorable lines:

"They give the finest lap dances in all the land." -Amit

"Do you know if there are any rooms with four single women? No? Ok, WHORES IT IS!" -Me

"My name is Brian Kohler. I am a lonely American tourist. How much for anal?" -Me

"I don't think my husband would approve of me dancing with you." -Hot Married Chick I Was Hitting On

Two weeks until Carnival and the party begins anew. I wish I could give you a deep revelation learned in London, but there're really no lessons to be taken away there. Sometimes when you do things right, it feels like nothing happened at all. Wise words from Futurama.

You know what's a good tenet of Christianity that no one follows? Forgiveness. It's all about the grudges, beefs, snubs, pride, and all for what? To teach them a lesson? Those bitchasses aren't going to learn! I'm wasting my time. Forgive. Forget. That doesn't mean I'm going to trust them again. Fuck that. From me, trust isn't earned, it's given and then taken away. I ain't a sucker. Just . . . I don't know. I'm calling them immature, and yet it feels like I'm just sinking to their level.

Wow this really cute girl just walked into Donner. Ok, I am losing attention. Ooh, there she goes again! Alright alright, I'm losing focus. Time to finish this.

2002-03-31T18:11:00.000-05:00

I'm reading some of my recent blogs, and they are getting pretty damn bland and boring. It's just the same themes over and over again:

a) I hate CMU.
b) I am horny.
c) Excessive profanity.

Then again, my life is pretty damn bland and boring. It's just the same themes over and over again:

a) Failure.
b) Rejection.
c) I am horny.

This is what I'd like to write about:

So there I was, rolling down Rodeo Drive in the S7, when I spotted this insanely beautiful babe just chilling. We're talking like goddess gorgeous, like her fucking passport is from Heaven. So I roll up and say something incredibly suave I can't really think of anything suave right now honestly in that situation I'd pull my usual look with the open-mouth and the drool hanging off my lip but just assume I rolled up and said one smoothass line. And this supermodel/children's physician was like, "Damn Chendaddy, I want to have your kids!" Actually, scratch that, she didn't say that, I take that back, she played it cool like classy supermodels/children's physicians do.

So I take her back to my 500-acre mansion, no no, wait, no I set up a date with her to fly to Venice in my Lear Jet this Friday for some partying and hot love-making in the underwater club I own there. And she has a twin sister and they're both very very open to experimenting. In the butt. And have great senses of humor. And that's just another day for a disgustingly rich mofo like myself. I wipe my ass with Benjamins and cashmere sweaters. Sometimes when I'm not even on the toilet, like when I'm cooking or something.

Yeah so I don't really know what I want out of life. I only know how I want to live it. I keep this list of quotes I made up on my Asian Avenue page, mostly stuff I thought up when really depressed or drunk. These are basically the words that I try to live by.

Chendaddyisms

It's not always easy to smile, but hey. If you're not enjoying life, you're already dead.

Only a few people merit getting anal over, but no one is worth taking it up the ass.

Age isn't the end of youth, responsibility is.

To become mature, you must learn that honesty is always the best policy. To become an adult, you must learn that honesty is not always the best policy.

When in doubt, whip it out.

Patience. Persistence. Be a slave to sanity or the master of your own ruin.

Sometimes believing everything will turn out for the best is better than knowing very few things ever will.

Reach for the sun and you may get burned. But stay on the ground and you`ll always be cold.

It's too easy to mistake lack of success for failure.

How pathetic it is to have delusions. How depressing it is to not.

I don't like the hoes, but the hoes like me.

Character is not built on success, but on failures.

The life you live means nothing if you don't know how to live it.

Yeah, I made up that last one just now. I notice a lot of them are things to make me feel better. It's like this. If I could go back to high school and relive my life with everything I know now, I wouldn't do it. Would I get more ass? Fo' shizzo. Hindsight is always 20/20. But life is about everything leading up to the party, and everything following it. And without all the mistakes, rejections, disappointments, loss, anguish, depression, and failures, what would my life be? One giant party.

Hey, The Simpsons have gotten really shitty lately. Yeah, you're going to have to make your own interpretations because I forgot my train of thought. GO LONDON!!

2002-03-27T16:55:00.000-05:00

Shit shit shit shit I always forget to do a fucking hypothesis test! Why??? I mention the fucking t statistic and p-values but I know the sonbitch is going to dock 10 pts just because he doesn't see an H₀ and H₁. Your mom is a fucking H₀. If I get lower than a fucking 95% I am going to go apeshit. This ain't Jackson High School anymore where people get an 80 and are fine.

Freshman year, Concepts of Math. Worst class I've ever taken with the worst professor I've ever had. This motherfucker couldn't explain his way out of an ass-whupping by two Catholic nuns. And if you say people should always have question to ask, try not to act so frustrated like you're wasting your time when someone actually does ask a question, ok chief? Lesson #2 about college, you don't pick courses, you pick professors. All my friends who took Concepts with Statman the next semester got A's. I know Art majors who got A's in a class I got a D. But they got an A in Statman. I got a D in Schäffer.

Anyway, so I was in Schäffer's class when we got our second take-home madass difficult midterm back. This bitch dude in front of me was all crying because he got a 95 out of 150, which counted as a 95% mind you, because his egghead motherfucker friends got 120 and 145. Just as a reference, I got a 25. Fucking egghead motherfuckers pissing me off. They all need to suck a fat one and die.

Speaking of sucking a fat one and dying, it seems that I've only recently picked up on the fact that the Americanized Indians here really really hate the FOB Indians. Funny, because I'm really good friends with a lot of the FOB Indians for the same reasons that the Americanized ones don't like them; they're loud and always state their opinion. Though I guess I could see how that could be seen as arrogance. And ironically, they like the FOB Asians because they're quiet and polite. I tried explaining to them that the FOB Asians are quiet because they really don't want to talk to them and secretly hate them. They're ok with it. One thing I agree with the Americanized Indians wholly: we hate cliques. And FOBs are cliques.

I guess FOB Indians probably look down on Americanized Indians just like FOB Asians look down on me. But I still think they hate the FOB Indians more than I hate the Azns. Here's a theory. I think it's all ingroups and outgroups. I grew up in a place where it'd be almost impossible to be accepted as an Azn, and the FOBs grew up where it'd be almost impossible to be accepted as a fortune cookie. But we're all Asian, so I expect them to think and act like me. They think the same about me. But they're not like me, and I'm not like them. That's some cognitive dissonance, muthafuck, and our minds try to explain the difference by saying the other group must be weird, inferior, and/or defective. I don't like you. You don't like me. You smell like fish. I smell like crackers. Thus they hang around their FOB friends. But whitewashed people don't hang out with other whitewashed people. They hang out with white people.

I'm pushing the issue further than it actually goes. I get along fine with most FOBs that I meet, yes even the Azns, but then again, I am Chendaddy. ;) I make a serious effort to go to Asian parties and keep in touch with my FOB-ier Asian friends. To maintain a fair friendship network that does not judge based on ethnicity or background? Fuck that, bitch. I do it for the HONEYZ. You would have to be rabidly homosexual to not admit that there are some fine Azn honeys running around this campus. I can't deny that my tastes have swayed to include Asians more since coming to CMU. At least a lot more than like the 10 Asian females I knew in all of Ohio.

I forget where I read it, but some CMU Azn girl once wrote, "What's wrong with being a FOB? I'd rather be a FOB than whitewashed trash." I'd probably be pissed if she wasn't hot. Hey, hot girls can say what they want to say. When it comes to discrimination, there are only two groups for me: hot girls and everyone else. And who's to say I'm being shallow? I'm just hating based on appearances like everyone else.

Now that's Spanish chick, French chick, Indian and Black
That's fried chicken, curry chicken, damn I'm gettin fat

- Jay-Z

2002-03-24T16:40:00.000-05:00

I just read this off my friend Schmidty's profile. He goes to school at Anderson in Indiana, and this is some funny shit that I have to post:

12:00 news in Indianapolis, March 22
12:00-12:03: highlights of the Hoosiers' victory over Duke the previous night
12:04-12:07: fan reaction to the Hoosiers' victory over Duke
12:08-12:10: preview of the Indiana-Kent State game the following day
12:11-12:12: Some guy this morning in Indiana went into his place of work and killed numerous people
12:13: back to IU basketball!

No joke....I hate Indiana

2002-03-22T17:57:00.000-05:00

This is how it's going to work. I'm going to rave about a song. Then I'm going to tell you to download or buy it. Then I'm probably going to quote some lyrics at the end. Then we'll all have a good chuckle and talk it off over some lines of chiva. That's just how we do at CMU. And internet porn. We're big on internet porn too. Snorting the chiva and busting the K-Y. Yeeah yeeah.

Get Nas - "One Mic." It's not often that a rap song gives me chills. This one does, especially if you're watching the video. The last rap song to do that was Outkast - "Ms. Jackson" when Big Boi goes, "So know this know that everything is cool/And yes I will be present on the first day of school/And graduation." The only one before that was Tupac - "Changes," the reason I started listening to rap in the first place. But then again, rap's not all about that. When I'm listening to rap, I don't expect to be going, "Damn..." I expect to be going, "Damn right, BITCH." And for that, I recommend Jay-Z - "Can I Get A..." and Eminem - "The Way I Am." Two songs about two different things but with the same theme: Fuck You. Or fast-forward to 2:45 in "Heartbreaker" passed all that Mariah Carey crap and listen to the pimpiest Jigga cameo ever.

Shit I cannot wait until London. I so need that week to just blow off all the stress. It's really helping knowing that I'll be there in almost a week, too. I drank last night, and I came home not even remotely angry. Yup, it's like that. I can totally focus on getting my work done. I'm not thinking about this girl, or that girl, or why you gotta do me like that girl, or damn girl that be a fine piece of ass. I'm not thinking about frat parties, house parties, Asian parties, KKK rallies, none of that shit. What do they matter? I'm going to be in LONDON. London, BITCH! I'm going to be drinking from JFK all the way to Heathrow. Then I got two words for you suckas: DUTY FREE. We ain't bringing empty backpacks for nothing! It's gonna a different chick every night! Ok, maybe that's pushing it. But then again, I won't know until I get there. And Harper, Whitey, and Amit are fucking animals. Whitey and I have already agreed to surrender our passports to London officials until we score. God save the Queen! Not even that old bitch is safe when Whitey's on the prowl!

And why not? Why the fuck not?

I've come to this conclusion about Carnegie Mellon. I'm staying. As much as I complain, I knew what I was getting myself into. This is not a school with a basketball team to be proud of. This not a school where the two pitiful stands in the pitiful stadium are ever filled during football games. This is not a school with a lot of hot girls. This is not a school with a lot of honest, understanding, mature girls. Actually, I take that back, that's true of all colleges. I thought that'd be something that'd change after high school. NOPE. I don't like the hoes, but the hoes like me. Carnegie Mellon is not a school of 55,000 where you see new people everyday. This is not even a school whose name would impress the average schmuck off the street. This is not that school.

This is a school where you will work your ass off, I don't care if you're majoring in biochemical engineering or English. This is a school where you will earn every little thing you tortured yourself for. This is a school where your parents can be proud of you for attending. This is a school that makes employers reviewing your resume go, "Ok, that's a start." This is a school for people who enjoy pain. And if you don't? This is a school that gets its nod when people talk about suicide rates.

I'm not going to stand here and tell you that there's nothing to do at Carnegie Mellon. I hate those people. Those are the people who you know every Friday and Saturday are hitting the Oil of Olay with a vengeance. If they stuck their heads out the window and pulled their hands out of their pants for two minutes, they'd see that there's plenty to do, not all of which is lame. Especially if you have friends other than Bambi Bigtits and Horny4Deth who you met over a Starcraft game. But I'm also definitely not going to tell you this is place to be. You know those people who say, "I love Carnegie Mellon; this place is the greatest" never did anything in high school other than abuse small animals or eat ding-dongs and cry. I can stand them a little more than the haters though. Yeah, maybe I'm being pretty narrow, but you're being an ugly jackass.

2002-03-19T01:10:00.000-05:00

My all-time favorite album ever has got to be Green Day - Dookie. A little surprising maybe since I don't listen to any punk rock these days, but Dookie is an absolute classic. It's one album where I can listen to every single song and feel great. If not for Dookie, I would not listen to music. Yeah, it's like that. If you lived in white suburbia in the mid-1990's, you know what I'm talking about. Tell me going through "She," "Basket Case," "Welcome to Paradise," or "When I Come Around" doesn't bring back fond memories of junior high, pre-algebra, school dances, puppy love, or using your Asian kung-fu skills to fight off honky 13-yr old bullies.

I was walking home today from the design class I really should just drop, and I thought about it again. This time it came to me like this: if in 5 years I was working for $120,000 a year and driving the pimptastic Benz, would I quit and find another job if I hated the one bringing me that load of dough? Obviously, the answer's yes, and that's not even asking what if 99% of all the people I worked/lived with were stuck-up and/or fugly. But then you have to look at it like this. Would I get a new job if I was going to retire in 2 years? Just two more years.

Fact: I'm not going to get into any other university nearly as reputable as Carnegie Mellon with a financial package nearly as generous as the one CMU is giving me.

Opinion: By the end of his or her sophomore year, every CMU students deserves a good ass-whuppin'. Preferably from me.

Fact: In two years, if I don't fuck things up and get kicked out for vandalism or molesting myself or something, I will thank myself for not transferring.

And yet more and more things everyday are pushing me over the edge. A bad conversation. A boring class. A snub from an "friend." Gray skies and windy weather. A girl.

Myth #1: I'll be much happier at another school. Especially a large one with a huge student population.

Truth: Maybe it's just me. I couldn't tell you unless I actually do it. But it wouldn't hurt if I could see more hot chicks on a regular basis.

Fact: I was miserable in Jackson until the summer after my senior year when I saw how close I was to the end.

Me: Hey really hot girl. When are you leaving?
Really Hot Girl: Orientation starts tomorrow. How about you?
Me: Yeah I leave tomorrow too.
Really Hot Girl: Ok, keep in touch, dude! I mean it!
Me: *coughbullshitcoughcough* Yeah, sure. Anyway, I'm probably going to never see you again, so I just want to let you know. You're hot. Like REALLY hot.
Really Hot Girl: Awwwwwww! Dave! That's so cute!
Me: Yup. Bye forever.

Ahh, those were the days.

Man, high school sucked.

2002-03-18T05:45:00.000-05:00

Now is not a good time to blog. And yet here I am in the Mac lab in the Cyert cluster blogging the dolphin.

There’s this guy on campus in a really fancy electric wheelchair. I think he has little use of his right hand and no use of his legs. I couldn’t tell you for sure because I’ve never really talked to the guy. I just kind of pretend like I’m not staring or thinking about him like all other asses on this campus do.

It boggles my mind that this guy can’t use his legs. It’s one of those things you totally take for granted until you see someone like that.

I’m such a damn procrastinator. I always get my work done at the last minute, and it’s impossible to find an internship right now.
This guy can’t use his legs.

No matter how much I eat or lift, for some reason I just do not gain weight. I can only dream of achieving my goal of gaining 30 lbs.
He can’t use his legs.

I have no car to drive me to places, and it’s such a pain in the ass to drag groceries home on the bus.
He can’t use his legs.

My cell phone has a giant crack in the faceplate.
He can’t use his legs.

I can’t get a girl.
He can’t use his legs.

I got rejected from the School of Design.
He can’t use his legs.

I never find time to play hoops.
He’ll never walk.

I’m over-romanticizing his plight here, making him out to be some martyr that he probably isn’t and doesn’t want to be. This is spoken like a true dumbshit, but I’m scared to talk to him. I can talk around anything, but we’d both know I’m thinking one thing. How do you live without using your legs?

I already know the answer.

A few years ago I was completely infatuated with this girl. I got close with her friends, with her parents, with her friends' parents, with anybody and everybody around her I could meet, basically changed my entire life to get close to her. Obviously, I got rejected, but the lessons I took from that experience were invaluable. Worth it? I don’t know, but invaluable. If she would’ve asked me how I honestly felt right after she asked to just be friends, I could’ve gone on for days. Weeks. I was in that deep. And she did ask me. Three years later. After three years, what’d I have to say? “Yeah, it’s cool. I’m over it.”

I have no idea what it’s like to wake up and not have legs to use. I won’t even pretend to know half of what that’s like. But you’ve got to come to a point one day where it’s just meaningless to continue feeling sorry for yourself. One day you just have to look at everyone and be like, “Yes, I too realize I can’t use my legs. In fact, I’ve known that for quite some time now. I don’t need your pity, just your help here and there. So bitch about how hard the midterm was or who gave you the shaft last Friday. The last thing I want to hear is, ‘Oh yeah, I’m having a bad day, but you can’t walk so you win.’”

Think about how miserable you are. Think about how unfair life is to you. Think about all the shit you have to do and all the shit you’re in. Now imagine someone else in your exact situation. With no legs.

Only someone WITH legs could’ve said something that stupid.

2002-03-17T03:15:00.000-05:00

timclbuck (2:47:06 AM): do you know a Keith Eich?

Auto response from The Chendaddy (2:47:06 AM): what the fuck was that? WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?

timclbuck (2:47:25 AM): appearantly he's a rich fuck asshole who went to school with my friend jeff...goes to your school now
The Chendaddy (2:53:27 AM): everyone who goes to my school is a fuck asshole
The Chendaddy (2:53:47 AM): and i hope they all get fucked in the asshole
The Chendaddy (2:54:09 AM): in a very unpleasant way
timclbuck (2:55:58 AM): are you upset?
The Chendaddy (2:56:05 AM): im not drunk enough
timclbuck (2:56:20 AM): oh...sorry man
The Chendaddy (2:56:42 AM): not your fault. i blame cmu. i think i want to burn something.
timclbuck (2:57:02 AM): or transfer to osu
The Chendaddy (2:57:23 AM): i dont think thats going to solve anything
The Chendaddy (2:57:39 AM): i settled for kicking a chair against the wall
timclbuck (2:57:40 AM): i think it surely would
The Chendaddy (2:57:49 AM): no. fundamental attribution error.
timclbuck (2:57:53 AM): i think you fucked up by making yourself stay at that miserable school
The Chendaddy (2:57:55 AM): i would probably attack more white people there tho
The Chendaddy (2:58:09 AM): yeah, but i wont regret it in two yrs when i graduate
timclbuck (2:58:17 AM): if you graduate
The Chendaddy (2:58:22 AM): im not worried about that
The Chendaddy (2:58:24 AM): i know i will
The Chendaddy (2:58:28 AM): with a high gpa
timclbuck (2:58:35 AM): alright, but you're just wasting your time hating life man
The Chendaddy (2:58:40 AM): possibly
The Chendaddy (2:58:50 AM): if i leave cmu
The Chendaddy (2:58:52 AM): im not going to osu
The Chendaddy (2:58:55 AM): im not going to any college
timclbuck (2:58:56 AM): life's about the experiences you have man....look at hte big picture
The Chendaddy (2:58:57 AM): im just gonna leave
timclbuck (2:59:03 AM): you're kinda irrational man
The Chendaddy (2:59:24 AM): i dont doubt that
timclbuck (2:59:42 AM): well...i'll let you go act miserable
timclbuck (2:59:45 AM): i have no more advice
The Chendaddy (3:00:25 AM): if i go to jail, could i count on u to post bail?
timclbuck (3:00:35 AM): no
The Chendaddy (3:00:55 AM): bastard. remind me to never go to jail in columbus.
timclbuck (3:01:02 AM): ok...i'll remind you
The Chendaddy (3:01:34 AM): im reminding you to look up the fundamental attribution error
timclbuck (3:02:18 AM): you're a fuck case man
The Chendaddy (3:02:38 AM): matt tong fucked your mom up at case
timclbuck (3:03:07 AM): no he didn't
timclbuck (3:03:09 AM): you're lying
The Chendaddy (3:03:32 AM): i lied to your mom when i told her i was using protection
The Chendaddy (3:04:15 AM): didnt u notice abby has some asian in her?
timclbuck (3:04:25 AM): fuck you
The Chendaddy (3:04:53 AM): hahahhaa
The Chendaddy (3:04:57 AM): i feel better timmy
timclbuck (3:05:52 AM): g'nite dave
The Chendaddy (3:06:42 AM): word to ya mutha

I don't expect you to understand what just happened there. I couldn't even tell you myself.

Conversation reprinted with explicit permission from Mr. Timothy Charles Laubacher. Copyright © 2002 Chendaddy Enterprises. All rights reserved.

2002-03-17T02:50:00.000-05:00

I've kicked over couches. Trash cans. Tables. Chairs. Recycling bins. I've thrown cans. Clothes. Bananas. Apples. The American flag. Fire extinguishers. Shoes. Chairs. I've pissed in the middle of the street. On double-parked cars. In the community sink.

Why?

Because if I didn't, I'd probably say something to you.

You don't want me to be honest to you.

There are optimists and there are pessimists. Some people claim they are realists. They're full of shit. No one is a realist. The realist knows exactly how much he is worth. The realist knows exactly how much you are worth.

How pathetic it is to have delusions. How depressing it is to not.

2002-03-15T01:45:00.000-05:00

I don't care what anyone may say about Kid Rock these days, Devil Without a Cause was a fucking awesome album. I'm not praising him for being original, revolutionary, genre-busting, nut-busting, whatever. I'm saying that's some good music. I'd been listening to that even before he blew up with "Bawitaba". There are so many good songs. "Cowboy," "Black Chick White Guy," "Bull God," "Bawitaba," but the best moment has to be right after Kid Rock and Eminem go off on everything in "Fuck Off," the record pulls a 180 and smoothly goes into "Only God Knows Why." Wow. That's some serious shit the first time you hear it. I know rock is making a comeback these days so I guess all you mainstream pop listeners can, I don't know, go back into the closet and style each other's hair or something. But honestly, most of this stuff I hear is still shit. Kid Rock - Devil Without a Cause, people. The man's not sleeping with Pamela Anderson for no reason.

There's this empathic/sensitive side of me that I always have to suppress. It's the side that I have to tell not to stare at girls in class. It's the side that berates me for not having change when I pass a homeless guy. It's the side that makes me want to apologize to the biggest, dumbest bitches just to keep the peace. It's the side that makes me want to get a puppy. It's the side that tries to cry when Ethan Hawke gets on top of his desk and says, "O Captain, My Captain." It's the only side that's smiling when I see a happy couple out in public holding hands, resting on each other's shoulders, making out, hitting it from the back, anything. But it's also the side that makes the toasts when I drink. It's the side that calls up Mark or Steve when I get depressed. It's a side that feels completely abandoned here at CMU and has been screaming for attention.

You know, I've never really seen a happy old couple. Like the kind that supposedly makes you feel all warm inside. Like really really old. Think about this. Old couples who are still so active and still so much in love are probably still doing it. That kind of ruins it for me. You remember when you were a kid and you mashed two raisins together into one? Yeah. What part of your body does THAT warm? If it ain't your heart, I don't want to hear about it.

So lately, when I've been asking myself why am I so obsessed about this or that girl, this sensitive/romantic guy inside me pops up and goes, "Because you love her!" Then, as it should happen in real life, I have to get my angry/unforgiving side to beat the shit out of him. Like in a movie if everytime Leonardo DiCaprio says something, Steven Siegal comes out and beats his candyass. That's just good, wholesome entertainment.

Anyway, it's not love. Never been in love. Obviously, since love is reciprocal. I think the best I can hope for is really really compatible. No, that's no good either. I think the worst reason two people could have to get married is compatibility. Actually any reason two people have for get married other than love is shitty. That's when divorces happen. Because two people CAN live together, doesn't mean they should. One day you're going to realize that you're just going through the motions, and I hope for your sake it's not when you have three kids and a big house. I think it's better to be 0% compatibe 100% in love than the other way around.

I'm giving up on love. At least for now. Don't get me wrong. I want to have lots and lots of sex. Yeah, sex is good. Now those of you who know me, I know what you're thinking. But the fact is that I STILL have a better chance of getting poontang than love right now. I'm definitely not going to say we're fit together, I'll learn to love her. Maybe the sex is great, I'll learn to love her. Or she let me put it in #2, I gotta love her. Or she licked my b...you know, I think you get the point. As if I don't have a hard enough time finding a girlfriend as it is, I'm going to throw this out there and take this mofo to some new lows. I'm not thinking about love. Knock knock. Who's there? Not love. Where'd it go? I don't know. Vacation. Walked out on us when we was kids. Gone. It's not about love.

It's not.

Maybe I forgot
All things I miss
Oh somehow I know there's more to life than this
I said it too many times
And I still stand firm
You get what you put in
And people get what they deserve
Still I ain't seen mine
No I ain't seen mine
I been giving just ain't been gettin
I been walking that there line
So I think I'll keep a-walking
With my head held high
I keep moving on
And only God knows why . . .

- Kid Rock

2002-03-12T03:36:00.000-05:00

I finally have some time on my hands. So much on the mind and no time to write it down. My parents came up over midsemester. My mom has multiple sclerosis, and she's definitely gotten a lot worse since last I saw her. My dad had to help her walk everywhere, and she actually got worse when they went back home. She started Solumedrol treatment yesterday. Seeing something like that puts me in my place. I'm not even going to pretend like I'm the good son. I don't get along with my parents. They talk to me like I'm 8 and I talk to them like they're 80. I definitely don't call them up every weekend to talk about what drinks are fucking up my liver or what vegetables are saving theirs these days. But I know my responsibilities. You have no idea how many times I've thought about leaving CMU. Not even transferring, just getting the fuck out. Finding my own out there. One of the thoughts going through my head has never been mom hobbling around clutching dad's arm for support. Something like that really shakes your perspective on a few things.

As much as I would like to, I don't only answer to myself.

Mark and En came up after the folks left. Drank a few. Actually drank a lot. Recounted every painful detail of this semester to the very day. After the usual "Well why don't you suck my dick and see if you feel better" banter, I got some real advice out of ol' Marhelo.

Playing the game is like playing cards. Sometimes you get dealt a deuce, and you fold that bitch. But you're getting handed a queen, and you're scared to play it because you think the next guy's got an ace. You get pissed off, you run away, and you lose money. I mean, you wanna give away money, you can give me my $10 and suck my dick.

The snub. That's a Jong tactic. How much are you willing to hurt yourself just to make some bitch feel bad? Truth is, you can beat your dumbass up all you want, that idiot isn't ever going to see the light or your schlong. The people who live for truth and justice never get ass. I bet Captain America was a virgin until like 38. And then I bet he paid for it.

You'll never win the game if you keep hitting the reset button.

Here's some more good news: I was rejected for a communication design minor. Yay! I feel like stabbing myself! With the fucking exacto knife I bought for Comm Design Fundamentals. Waste my entire midsemester break working on the motherbiatch design project. Put that shit out on display. 5 minute interview. Same day I get an email: Unfortunately because of space limitations blah blah blah blah eat it you little chink you ain't gettin in! It's just not feasible for me to try again next year, so there's another fucking dead end. Computer science minor: out. Communication design minor: out. Wait, let's go even further back. 1600 on SAT: out. Stanford: out. Berkeley: out. Have you ever actually seen your dreams go up in smoke? That Stanford basketball t-shirt grilled pretty nicely. Jong didn't seem as enthusiastic when Mark and I tried to barbeque him next. I'm not even going to list the people I marked out.

Today's Theme: Rejection.

I don't think I'm going to get pissed off and run away. I'm going to email them back, thanks for considering me or some bullscheiss like that, can you please give me some specific criticism on my portfolio and interview? Not that I'm going to apply again. It'll just be interesting chit-chat before I beat you like ya daddy should've with this fucking metal ruler I had to buy for CDF. Then I'm going to run these zip disks I had to buy for CDF through your ass and see if Adobe Illustrator pops up.

I'M NOT BITTER.

Today's Theme: Domestic Violence

So I'm online today chatting it up with one of these talk-once-a-semester acquaintances. After about a two minute conversation, a much longer pause, and my calling her on it, she says, "I didn't know what to say to you." Get the gun, honey. It's time to put this dying conversation out to pasture. Burger King's a-callin' her name. See, here's the thing. Back in my glory days (i.e. last few years of high school until sometime in my first semester at CMU), I would've totally turned on the patience, understanding, listening, general openness, maybe even take this to a talk-twice-a-semester relationship. Nowadays? Yeah, why don't you go think of something while I'm watching TV.

Over midsemester Steve also gave me a call. Mark, En, and Jong may know how to make me laugh, but Steve's definitely the one who listens. He's probably the only person who listens to me more than I listen to him. We want to get all five of us together someplace sometime over the summer; drinking, partying, dissing each other, making body noises, all the fun stuff that other people in public frown upon. These are my confidants. If I say something the wrong way, they'll pick up on it immediately. If I need a place to crash, they'll provide. If I'm crushing on a girl, they'll grab her boyfriend off the street and put him in a potato sack. That's brotherhood.

After thinking about it, I realized that Aditya was also really good at picking up on how I was doing just by my behavior. And he acted accordingly. No one else at Carnegie even comes close.

Those thoughts of getting the fuck out of here just don't go away.

I want you
To be free
Don't worry
About me
And just like
The movies
We'll play out
Our last scene
You won't cry
I won't
Scream . . .

- Alien Ant Farm

2002-03-08T00:48:00.000-05:00

I have to work right now. I want to work right now. I'm not working right now.

I can't think.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm just wasting my time.

Playing Dynasty Warriors 3 is obviously a waste of time, though I've learned more about my country's history from that video game than from any crac....white history class.

How about blogging? Is that a waste of time? Sure, it's good for kicks, but is this really accomplishing anything? Is it doing anything for me?

How about having dreams? That's a serious waste of time if I don't have the discipline to back them up. Which I don't. Maybe I should I stop?

How about pining after someone you can't have?

But who's to say you can't have any of them? It's all in how much effort you're willing to make.

I'm expected to make a real effort to find a girl when I couldn't even make a half-assed effort in the last four months to finish my design project due next Monday or take 20 minutes out of a day in the past month to write a cover letter to Bausch & Lomb.

I think the problem lies in the fact that there are so many times when I did make the effort, only to realize later that it was totally not worth it.

Disappointment. Not in yourself. In others. Not that that makes you feel any better.

I'm very close to complaining about never getting a break.

You know how ugly people get together? Desperate people work very, VERY hard. And they're happy. Or at least content. I can only hope to ever come close to the work ethic of one of these sasquatch couples I see wandering around campus.

I'm going to hell aren't I?

2002-03-07T20:45:00.000-05:00

Midsemester break. This is the college version of all non-major holidays that we got off for high school. Honestly, who actually went out and celebrated President's Day? Did you put up your little plastic George Washingtons and Abraham Lincolns on your lawn? Did the neighborhood kids re-position them in a compromising manner during the night?

Not to say I wasn't grateful at the time for the day off. But I have to admit, as much as I hate Carnegie Mellon, college life is so much better than high school life. And not just because there are less jackasses here. Though that is part of it, I attribute that to the people here being older not just smarter. Hey, I hate elitism as much as the next guy, but it's pretty fucking obvious where the brains are in the CMU vs. JHS competition. More noodles, fewer crackers. Haha, I have to stop being so racist.

So today I'm walking down Forbes to Golden Palace Buffet with Whitey, Steve, and Sara. In retrospect, Golden Palace is one of those Chinese places where you know a bunch of Puerto Ricans are cooking the shit in the microwave and chasing the rats off with machetes. Ok ok, that was bad stereotyping. Golden Palace is one of those Chinese restaurants where you know they don't put true effort into assuring the food has the highest quality and authenticity. Because it's made by a bunch of Puerto Ricans and a Kenmore.

Anyway, we're walking over to this dump, and this young black lady comes up to us and asks if we could spare a buck seventy for her to catch a bus ride. The other three say no and walk off like most rational people do, but I stop, dig out two bucks, hand it over, then walk away. I felt really bad afterward. See, that's what's wrong with society. I didn't even think for two seconds, I just handed her the money like so much charity. Maybe she was going to use it to catch a ride. Maybe she was checking out the $1.75 Rolling Rock special at The O. Thing is, I didn't care. She can take care of herself. I'm just lending a hand. It's not my business. And it really isn't. So how come I feel bad about it?

2002-03-04T18:13:00.000-05:00

I just read my last two blogs. Damn, all the humor has been TOTALLY sucked out. I am such a bitter mutha-what lately. Ok, will try to make next blog more funny-depressing and less stab-somebody-in-the-face-depressing.

2002-03-04T17:59:00.000-05:00

Same old shit dawg just a different day
You know how niggas do when we play how we play
(IT IS NOT A FUCKING GAME)
A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do
If it's fuck me nigga, you know it's fuck you

- DMX

It's a vicious cycle. Oh you're gonna snub me? Well FUCK you. I'll snub your bitchass, too. Then you have to think, what's that person thinking? I'll tell you what that person's thinking. Oh you're snubbing me? Well FUCK you. I'll snub your bitchass, too. Who knows who started snubbing who. Everyone always thinks it's the other guy. No, that's not true, there are definitely people whom I know I started snubbing first. Doesn't feel so hot when it's the other way around.

Over the years I've become extremely good at getting over things. Disappointments. Failures. Stagnancy. It's not even so much how traumatic as much as how well I have the mentality down. In fact, I'm going to go ahead and say I'm a master of getting over it. That's not saying I'm a master of bouncing back. No, I'm more of a person who'll do everything I can at the moment, then leave and come back 10 years later to rub my big, platinum balls in your face. Kind of like Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights, but hopefully without putting everyone reading about my life to sleep. God I hated that book. It was a good story, but reading it was so fucking boring. Maybe I just can't appreciate classical writing. Or maybe I just can't appreciate anything I'm reading the night before for class.

First I admit it's over. I can start regaining my dignity. Then I stop hanging around you. Then I stop talking to you. Then the hard parts. I stop talking about you. I stop thinking about you. Then one day, you just don't exist anymore. We may say we're friends, but we're not. Everyone knows the story of falling in love. This is how I fall out. I am the master of falling out.

2002-03-03T17:45:00.000-05:00

Wow, my drinking moods just keep getting angrier and angrier. And last night I was focused. I called En up and let out my anger against everyone. Asians. Whites. Blacks. Hispanics. Jews. Indians. Yeah, I know, I don't have anything against Blacks, Hispanics, Jews or Indians. Oh well, I just made up stuff.

So there I was around 3 am. Somehow hung up on En, although he was just making fun of my drunken racism. I go online. Who do I rant to? Who do I confide in? Who can I trust?

Devan.

Yeah, before last night I didn't know who she was either. Just a friend of Timmy L's whom he told me to IM one day. Yup, basically a total stranger. I've had close friends tell me you're drunk, go to hell before, but she, completely sober, hears me out. How many friends do I have who will hear me out and take me seriously when I'm drunk and they're sober? Steph Xu. Sarah from last year. Naomi from this year. Surprisingly to me but makes sense nonetheless, no guys. So one of my best friends and two white girls. And now a girl from OSU. Granted, most people I talk to while drunk have been drunk themselves, but it's pretty common for me to attack sober people too. Not trying to hit on anyone, but that kind of understanding is VERY attractive. Almost maternal, though my own mom's nowhere near that understanding. =Þ

All these people popping up talking to me, I don't even remember what I was going to say.

Uh......

I'm going to London for spring break.

Oh yeah that's right. Hold on, I gotta take a shot of Pepto. Maximum strength Pepto-Bismol. Protective COATING Action. Soothing relief for upset stomach, indigestion, nausea, heartburn, diarrhea, and long nights of drinking. I have to remember to take this stuff with me to London. I don't trust those pansyass English tea and crumpet antiacids. I need something that can tame this 100% made in America bowel movement!

I am on another one of my "I hate CMU" rages. It seems many of my beliefs haven't been holding up. Dance like no one's watching? Bullshit. You can't dance forever. Fuck what everyone else thinks? Bullshit. Realistically, how many people are actually thinking about you? I hate Asians? Bullshit. I should've stayed at Amy and Ting's party instead of hitting the frats. Then again, it was Whitey's birthday and he does need his dose of white chicks. Even though he ended up dancing with this Asian girl. And then the Asian girl's Asian friend. Hahaha. Whitey's a riot. We're going to tell a lot of stories about him alone when we get back from London. That's obvious.

Yo I just realized why I smell so good! I'm running low on soap so recently I've been washing with the fruity body wash my aunt gave me. Man, I've been sniffing myself for like the last hour. This shit smells FRESH. I'm going to keep using it! Body wash and pepto. Must remember for spring break.

The fundamental attribution error states that we tend to overattribute others' behavior to internal, dispositional causes while overattributing our own behavior to external, situational factors; i.e. she's a bitch, he's a prick, I hate Asians, I hate CMU.

2002-03-03T04:48:00.000-05:00

i hate oyu all. soc fuckiugn useless. fuck you. al of you. fuck you and you yand you and you and you and you and you adn yur fuckng mother too. GOD DAMMIT ALL YOU FUCKERS. shtij. fuck you. fuck you. and fucdk me too.

2002-02-27T03:37:00.000-05:00

I've hit a productive streak, but it's disintegrating quick so I'm going to make this blog quick. Last Friday I drank with three Desk Managers. Now I finally have an interview to be Desk Attendant. I don't think people realize that, at least for me, drinking is a very social activity. Being social gets you places. In fact, let's have a drink to that. Fuck it, let's have 10 drinks to that.

I penned a rap song, and I got to say, I think it's damned good. I gave it to my friend Avi and his twisted buddies to actually rap out, so we'll see where that ends up. However, their earlier work involves various grunting and talking over an R&B track, so I don't really know what to expect. Yet that's probably exactly the kind of people who'd do a song with lyrics like I'd written. Yeah, it's too crude/juvenile for you boys and girls, so I'll probably not post it on my blog. Eh, fuck it, I'll post it eventually. I was just suddenly inspired by Marilyn Manson's "The Beautiful People" when I decided to write it, if that gives you any idea.

About four years ago, I went to this ski retreat with the Akron Chapel's youth group. We were in small groups, and this (fat white) leader lady was talking about the book, Trainspotting, and how evil it was because of the profanity. She couldn't even get through the first paragraph for all the profanity. Dear. God. What. A. Fat. Ignorant. Close-minded. Conservative. Old. Bag. $10 says her ancestors were the sames people who said, "Let Negroes vote?? Blasphemy!" Trainspotting is a great story about the perils of drug addiction and turning one's life around. And this fat bitch writes it off as garbage because she can't look through something as trivial as profanity, necessary to accurately portray the scenario, to see the underlying message. God, ignorantass fucking backwoods close-minded trash just piss me the fuck off. She would not be able to see the message in the song I wrote. I should write a song about her dumbass.

Ok ok, so her being fat really had nothing to do with her ignorance. That was an unfair stereotype of overweight people; I'm sorry about that.

I know I'm treading on thin ice here, not because I actually am but because some misguided individuals are going to read what I just wrote and think I'm knocking Christianity. I'm not knocking Christianity. If you got religion, great. I'm happy for you. I think the compliment I was most proud of about my blog was from a devout Christian friend of mine who told me that she liked my blogger for its sincerity. On the other hand, I also know a lot of Christians who fit that ignorantass backwoods stereotype.

Here's another Battery Acid for the Soul story for you. This one goes way back, when I was still in middle school. I went to Jackson Friends Church every Sunday because my parents told me to do so, but it wasn't so bad. Church was like sacred ground, someplace where I didn't have to worry about my being surrounded by 99% white people. Imagine my surprise when one day I came out of service and this fucking high school whiteboy comes up to me and makes this "Waaaagh!" kung-fu noise at me. Here's the best part, his bitch mom is right there with him and she's motherfucking laughing at me at the same time. Laughing. Him and his fucking mom.

Why are people racist? Why are people sexist? Why are people homophobic, xenophobic, smoking crack, flunking out, beating their kids, and molesting their pets? Not because of friends, not because of school, not because of music, not because of tv, not because of movies, not because of video games; it's because of THEIR PARENTS. Their motherfucking racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, crackhead, dropout, child/pet-abusing, uncaring parents. I'm not saying blame everything on your parents. Your failures are definitely more your fault than anyone else's. But behind every major failure of a child lies a giant failure in parenting.

I've been saying "I hate Asians" a lot in recent years. But to everyone who says I'm trying to be white, just think about all the emotions going through this junior high age kid as he walked away flipping his one-fingered salute in the middle of the church lobby to those two ignorantass crackers. A few bad crops ruining the entire harvest? Probably. I'm a nice guy. I give out my trust pretty freely. Once. Twice at most. After that? I think the last time I had a pleasant, meaningful conversation with my parents was maybe sophomore or junior year of high school. Eh, whatever. It's their failure, too.

"I like your Christ, but I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ." - Mahatma Ghandi

2002-02-24T17:04:00.000-05:00

Have you ever been to the back of a Panera's? You know what's back there? Bread. Mountains of it. All wrapped up very nicely in big plastic bags. All being thrown away. Why? Because Panera's only serves fresh bread. And if it wasn't just made today then it's not fresh. First of all, bad operations management. That's a total waste of supply right there. Any of those eggheads up there ever take a production course? Maybe the cost of producing such a large safety stock of bread is minimal, but that leads me to my second point.

Why are you throwing that shit away? Is it blue? Is it green? That shit's still good! I don't throw bread away until I start seeing mushrooms. Then it's portabella sandwich night! And Panera's throwing away shit that's A DAY old. Are there no homeless shelters that'll accept that bread? You know how many kids in Haiti would rise up to get their hands on that damn bread? Ok, maybe I'm just really ignorant and I didn't exactly research transportation and distribution costs, but seeing a fuckload of bread being thrown out as garbage just does not seem right to me.

I hear you out there. Why don't you do something about it then, Chendaddy? Why don't you quit crying and do something?

.

.

.

.

Good question.

2002-02-23T17:46:00.000-05:00

Symptoms:
Contacts still in. Hair still gelled. Shoes still on. Fully clothed. Giant headache. Nausea. Scar on forehead. Woke up on the floor.

Diagnosis:
Prison-style gang-r...wait, actually I think I just drank too much. The shots of Citron and Cuervo I took with the Indians didn't even touch me until I was at KDR downing the beers. Then it all pretty much hit me at once. Yeah, I'll make it up to my liver later.

I haven't felt this bad at school since the last December when I hurled all over the place, although in terms of courtesy my friend Amy said I was just as hospitable with vomit on my chin as without. I know I acted like a jackass. I know I said some pretty stupid things to the ladies. I know the KDR brothers probably didn't appreciate it when I stole their fire extinguisher. I know Dave and Eric probably weren't too happy that I was too drunk to find the directions to the house party. And I really have to thank Whitey and Saket for waking me up and dragging my ass back to my room. I know I really pissed my roommate Jay off when I came in and passed out on the floor, but Jay goes into his Jay Rage if he gets poked in the asshole the wrong way so I don't really give a shit. Hah!

On the other hand, as stupid as I acted last night, I haven't felt better in quite a while. For the first time in the longest time, I just got on the dancefloor and danced. Without caring who I was dancing with or, to cite that hackneyed dumbass quote, who was watching. No inhibitions. I think it helped that there really weren't any spectacularly good-looking women who caught my eye. Plus it definitely helped that I knew so many brothers at KDR. But I'm still not going to rush. I like my individuality. And I'm lazy.

So it's going to be a cold-sober Saturday night for me. I say I'm going to study or look for internships or work on my design project but I know that's just smoke blowing out of my ass. I'll watch a movie. Something to renew my appreciation for life. My favorite movie of all time has got to be Braveheart, but, as all men do sometime, I need a quickie. Here are my recommendations if you feel the same way:

Can't Hardly Wait
My favorite dumb teen movie of all time. My roommate Q loves Get Over It, but he also loves the cock so I don't know if I believe him. When it comes to cheesy, Hollywood happy endings based on fate, it doesn't get much better than this. Then again, I haven't seen Serendipity, but I'm not down with the chick flicks.
Moment I'd squeal if I were a woman: The train station scene. A throwback to classic Hollywood. Seriously, who the hell takes the Amtrak to college these days anyway?

Swingers
The best movie about the single life and dating ever. Period. It's that good. Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau are gods. Too bad Made was pretty crappy. But hey, everyone loved Rudy, right? Alright, so they didn't really direct Rudy, but I don't give a shit we're talking about Swingers. This is simply the best movie for getting over a girl. When I first watched it late night on ABC, I was still hung over a girl whom I really should have forgotten about a long time before. Seeing this movie kicked off ending the grief process. Dead serious. How many movies have actually made you change your life? Yeah, that good.
Moment I'd squeal if I were a woman: The last phone call. Call-waiting doesn't deserve this kind of tribute.

Office Space
This should've really been a character-based movie and not a plot-based one. It actually gets a little boring toward the end when they get into the corny story, but there is some seriously funny shit that's become classic. Just look at my buddy icon. Gangsta rap + white-collar desk jobs = []D [] []V[] []D [] []\[]. Yeah, I'm a loser.
Moment I'd squeal if I were a woman: How can I just pick one? When Samir busts out the breakdance move was hilarious, but this award has to go to the entire "Damn It Feels Good to Be a Gangsta" scene. Geto Boys, baby.

Or I guess I could always watch porn. Asian porn. Ooh.

2002-02-22T14:20:00.000-05:00

I got about 30 min between classes, so here's a blog coming at you from the clusters. There's a tour group outside. Yup, prospective students ugly once again. It just never stops.

I like social psych. This is actually a class where everything just seems relevant. Plus chicks who take psych classes are hot. Oh hells yeah! Speaking of which, I have thoroughly failed on my not looking at hot girls campaign. Including significant failure on the Hot Girl® front as well. Eh, we had a good run for a half-week or so.

So we covered a chapter over prejudice and discrimination. I was one of three Asians in my class of 400 and one of about 6 or 7 among the 1700+ student body in a public mid-Ohio high school, so I know plenty about discrimination. However, recent events have actually seen yours truly play the role of ignorant honky. How the tables have turned. How does one solve this discrimination? I turn to the Cave Robbers camp for reference.

Here were a bunch of kids who started hating each other simply because they were placed in different competing groups. Started out the same (Asian), but end up differently merely because of different placement (I hate Asians). It was a psychological exercise, but the camp counselors couldn't figure out how to get them to start liking each other again. They tried to have them socialize together. That turned out well. Like when bloods and cripes meet on the same street they put down their guns for a quick and friendly game of hop-scotch. No, you idiots, they blow the shit out of each other. Then they tried to introduce a common enemy, yet the two groups still refused to work together against the enemy. I, similarly, refuse to accept any help fighting the good fight against the white man. Finally, the camp counselors got the two groups to reconcile when they were forced into a situation where they had to cooperate to survive. Like they ran out of food and one side had the killer instinct but the other side knew where all the tasty fat kids lived or something.

We spanked ASA last Monday 34-16. That was disappointing. I was hoping for a challenge. I don't feel vindicated. In any case, we finished the season 2-2. Boy scouts are queer.

2002-02-22T02:47:00.000-05:00

I really don't have much to write about these days. Guess there isn't anything new on my mind. The most exciting thing that's happened to me lately was talking with Mark, En, and Jong at the same time over two 3-way callings. Whoever says cell phones are useless obviously have neither a cell phone nor real genitalia. On another note, I finally figured out how to do tabs in HTML using Javascript, but blogger seems to be too weak to recognize the code. Michelle Kwan fell. I feel really bad for her. She's not going to come back for a third try. Or at least she shouldn't. So she's going to live until the end of her days knowing how damn close she came without actually achieving her highest goal. Then again, if she had a chance every year, then the reward wouldn't be nearly as sweet or worth striving for. Yeah, so that sucks for her. Plus sucks for me because I lost $5 to Mark on her not getting gold. Oh well, we're Asian, we'll get over it.

2002-02-21T15:25:00.000-05:00

2002-02-20T05:41:00.000-05:00

I had a blog all pretty much written, but Amit sent me grandpa porn and I had to shut down. Bastard. Then again, he did save me a perfect seat right next to, well, to this specific individual in OB just like he threatened he would earlier. Then again, he also took a leak down the C-Tower staircase from the 3rd floor while we were working on regression. Observed 4 or 5 people walking down that trail tonight.

So my RA finally busted us for our sofa again. Goddamn it. Some shit about somebody telling him we stole a table from upstairs. Well we didn't, but we lost the sofa we stole. I think he made that up just to snoop around our room. But if he was telling the truth and I find that little shit who squealed on us I'm going to fuck him up like the police on a black guy. Man, that's why we need to convince the one dude to move out of the house on Forbes Ave. I need to move off campus. I must have that house. I am so sick of dorm living. Now I know what you're thinking, "Well you shouldn't be stealing things in the first place, David." Hey look, officer, where the fuck were you when those cocksuckers stole 12 steaks that belonged to Jian and me from the community fridge? I'm getting robbed and you're beating minorities, that's what's going on.

I've included Hot Girl® with the random Asian girls I don't know in the Do-Not-Stare category. Staring is bad. So is having unhealthy infatuations. For example, waiting out relationships. That's got to be the unhealthiest obsession ever. Either stay away or play the homewrecker card. Waiting is just pathetic. Why wait for someone to leave the table when you should be pulling up your own chair? It's not easy. Some of my biggest crushes have been on women who are taken. What would I do if tomorrow one such couple broke up? I don't know. I honestly don't. I don't think about it. I don't allow myself to think about it. Thinking about the possibility creates the illusion that they will eventually break up. Living in that dream world is dangerous. It breeds jealousy. Resentment. Impatience. Despair. God knows how much of your life you'll waste before one night, surfing the web for pictures of your fixation with mouse in one hand and Oil of Olay in the other, you finally realize how pathetic you have become.

Believe it or not, there are a (very) small number of very attractive, single girls out there. Even at CMU. I see some of you begin to violently disagree. Hey, I understand, and I'm ok with you being gay. It's no big deal these days. As for me? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Yo Amit, save me another seat in OB Thursday.

2002-02-19T06:10:00.000-05:00

You're not worth it.

2002-02-18T20:08:00.000-05:00

I just had the most amazing epiphany! Ok, there are all kinds of terms for whitewashed Asians: bananas, twinkies, etc. I personally prefer the term my friend Steve Kubinski came up with: fortune cookies. A yellow shell that breaks open to reveal white wisdom. And who invented the fortune cookie? A whitewashed Asian! Now, even further support for my fortune cookie terminology: what is a fortune cookie? Think about it. What color is it? What texture is it? What kind of pastry is it? That's right! A fortune cookie is a YELLOW CRACKER! A yellow cracker!!! I'm rich, I tell ya! I'm rich!

2002-02-18T01:05:00.000-05:00

I made a nice little away message on Valentine's Day that I found very touching and wanted to share with all of you.

Most Romantic Things to Hear on Valentine's Day
10. You're such a good friend!
9. That guy is so cute!
8. I'm so glad to have you as a friend!
7. You're such a funny guy!
6. My friend would be so perfect for you!
5. I wish you were my brother!
4. So could you put in a good word for me? You know, since he's your best friend and all.
3. They thought you and I were going out, and I was like, "Are you insane???"
2. I love him.
1. We're still friends, right?

Yeah, I love Valentine's Day.

2002-02-18T00:16:00.000-05:00

This is almost the tattoo I want to get on my chest. Once I'm at 180 lbs, which will be in about 2 months ideally, 2 years realistically. I want the black circle to be the Chinese character for "discipline" and the white to be the Chinese character for "spontaneity." Except I don't want the two characters to look like GIFs I got off the internet. Plus the closest I can find to discipline is lu4 or "law," and the closest I can find to spontaneity is gan3 or "boldness." In fact, I don't think there is a Chinese term for spontaneity. Damn Asians. A shame. Discipline and spontaneity are what I strive for. A disciplined life without spontaneity is meaningless. A spontaneous life without discipline is useless. I have neither right now. Nor do I have poontang. That could be another possible tattoo.

2002-02-17T03:41:00.000-05:00

So drunk is most definitely an emotional state, not a physical state. Despite the blurred vision, insensivity to cold, and inability to concentrate right now, after 8 beers I am stone sober. Am I glad I went out? Yeah, I'd say so. Wow, it just started snowing outside. You know what? I like her. Yeah. Those who were with me tonight know who I'm talking about. I like her. I honestly want to drop my group and join whichever group she's in. Why? Because the reason I joined my group is ... well, hopeless. And yet . . . and yet. Gentlemen, let me make one thing clear. If you think someone is hot, someone else will also think she's hot. On a side note, just because you think someone is ugly, doesn't mean that no one else can possibly think she's hot. No sir, some guys are desperate/blind/stupid. I am none of the three. Maybe I'm setting the bar a little (ok, way) too high. But you know what they say. Why settle for just a slice of the pie when you can have sex with an incredibly beautiful woman? Think about that next time you're shopping for pastries, sonbitch.

2002-02-16T22:48:00.000-05:00

Why am I even going out tonight? I do not want to get drunk. I know I'm not going to do work if I stay in, but still. Such a sad life. So apparently my friend Elissa was a little offended that I did not consider her a confidant, so we spent some quality time together at the Waterfront. Yeah, so I know a bit more about her, and she knows a bit more . . . about my friends. Eh. The closest person I had at CMU to a confidant was probably Leo. Just because he asked how I was doing when I was going through some real shit. That's really all it takes. Offer help when I need it. Sounds easy but I guess it must be pretty damn hard since it doesn't seem to happen too much to me. I haven't really seen Leo lately, so I can't count him as a confidant either. A pity since he's one of those guys who'll always help you out, though he's lost a lot of his naivete from freshman year. His gain, but humanity's loss.

2002-02-14T04:11:00.000-05:00

Is my blogger the most unserious blogger ever? I just cruised around to a few other people's. I don't see how someone can think I'm more depressed than anyone else. Just because I use substantially more profanity and have a few posts where I'm plastered out of my mind. Come on, it's all part of the personality!

Speaking of which, I've just found someone who knows me better than any of my friends or family. Fuck that, my family couldn't pick me out of a Bolivian orphanage. So better than any of my friends then. Who is this, you ask? Colored blocks. Yup, colored blocks told me this, and they're about 95% right:

You have always longed for tenderness, love and a sensitivity of feeling into which you would like to blend. You are a very gentle warm person and responsive to "All things bright and beautiful". This personifies a caring person... A person who "needs" and indeed "needs to be needed".

You are totally dissatisfied with your present situation. Matters are not going right for you and you are seeking a means of escape. Your mental state of mind necessitates that you need to change your thinking patterns. Remember, if one particular modus operendi doesn't seem to work then try something different ....

You are a dreamer .. and you seek perfection in any relationship that you may establish. Some of your ideas and standards are over the top... so it may be a good idea to review your perception of life and accept people for what they are - not for what you would like them to be.

You are feeling helpless. The fact that you are unable to control events that are going on around you is subjecting you to considerable stress. This can, if not relieved, cause muscle spasms or hypertension..It would seem that you are, for whatever the reason, being subjected to intolerable pressures. The complete environment would appear to be hostile. It would also seem that you are being driven against your will. You feel... and perhaps quite rightly so, that unreasonable demands are made in you ..but what is more to the point you feel as if you are powerless to control the situation or protect yourself in any way. At this time you feel utterly helpless...

The tensions and stresses that you have experienced of late have been the result of trying to cope with conditions which are really beyond your capabilities. You feel completely inadequate to cope with the situation and you would like nothing better to escape from it all ... and to be able to relax in a problem and pressure free environment where you can do your thing.

Yeah, so it falls apart a little at the end, but for the most part, pretty damn accurate for a bunch of colored blocks. If you think about it, this is actually just the schema of any general individual unsatisfied with his or her life. But it's cool because I got this from colored blocks!

2002-02-14T02:43:00.000-05:00

I'm getting psychotic with this anti-Asian thing. I am trying to not stare at any Asian chicks I don't know. Don't ask why, it just makes me feel better. Kind of like I'm saying, "Yeah? Well I'm not acknowledging your presence either." I should honestly adopt this policy toward all women I don't know. But then what's supposed to keep me happy and entertained during the day? Architecture? Luckily it's not all too hard to keep from staring at the troves of beautiful women wandering our campus. =Þ

Yet there are difficulties. I mean, it's like, she's hot. I'm supposed to ... not look? That can't be right. Like there was this nice Asian chick behind the Morewood desk this afternoon. I mean, she wasn't hot, but she definitely had style and Chendaddy digs that. Style or Sporty Spice. Actually I don't like Sporty Spice. She has a man-voice. What was I talking about? Anyway we lost to the Koreans. 22-26. Bastards. We better NOT lose against ASA. I have a personal vendetta against ASA. Not that they've ever done anything bad to me. Just that I connect certain bad experiences with ASA. Maybe after we crush them next Monday, my anti-Asian demons will be exorcised.

I am obsessed with destroying Asians on the basketball court. I think Mark and En were the ones who drilled that into me; I just took it to a new level. No, actually I think that sentiment has deeper roots in my upbringing in a racially intolerant society that valued athletic ability as one of a person's highest merits. Yeah, it always comes back to the crackers. Only thing is Mark and En can hold their own easily. I get killed without help. I keep thinking about Cedarville. Crushing every team in the tournament on the court. Crushing all the other teams not in the tournament in the parking lot. Then there were the Asian high school kids. Double beatdown. Everyone talking smack until they played us. A great feeling. Then the rest of Cedarville was either disturbing or depressing with drunkeness spread throughout.

I think I actually am pretty intolerant. Not based on social class, gender, background, sexual-orientation (despite the gay jokes), or race (yes, even despite the "I hate Asians" sentiment). Maybe age, but that bigotry is only directed toward ages 13-17. I think I turned against teenagers practically overnight. One day I was one; the next I wanted to kill'em all. But for the most part, I greet all new people with a clean slate. Now, I'm a really nice guy. If I like you and we're friends, then it's all good. For people I've just met, by the second time we speak, I'd say I hate about . . . 70% of them. Actually it's probably more like 80-85%, but compassion and convenience are confusing things.

Here's something for you to think about when you're tired of video games and porn. Think of all your friends, all your acquaintances, everyone you know well. Categorize everybody into two groups: people you like and people you don't like. Make it black and white. There is no gray area, no middle ground, no "I'm not fond of him but I respect him" or "I like her but she drives me nuts" bullscheiss. I personally cannot think of a single person who I know and respect but don't like. Like'em. Don't like'em. That's it. I can do it. Every single person I know. I found out that I really don't like some of my close friends. Only people I had problems categorizing were one or two former crushes. Pretty interesting shit thinking about the world in black and white.

Elissa sent me this news article about a 14-yr old Asian girl who committed suicide because she couldn't handle the pressure from the clashing of her mom's conservative Chinese culture and her independent American youth. So I guess Elissa thinks I'm going to commit suicide because I don't want to work in a Chinese restaurant all my life and my mom won't let me keep dating my 16-yr old boyfriend. Jesus H. Rodriguez, ok ok, just so there's no confusion, I am NOT going to kill myself. I can't offer the same branch of safety to other people (especially ASIANS), but I can guarantee I will never be so insecure and hopeless about myself to just end it.

You know why? Because of the Cash Money Millionaires. People who listen to too much depressing white music commit suicide. People who listen to the Cash Money Millionaires live long, profitable lives. I mean, God is dead? I'm too depressed to go on? Sick and tired of people talking about what's the deal with this pop life and when's it going to fade out? Why don't you just hand out guns to kids at your local high school?

On the other hand, what finer tribute to mothers everywhere than Juvenile - "She Get It From Her Mama?" For those suffering the hardships of multimillionaire rap stardom, Lil Wayne is there to remind you that "when you feel like everything's goin' wrong, man, I'm gonna stand 'cause I'm a grown man" on "Grown Man." Finally, I encourage all to take some quality time to listen to B.G. "Bling Bling" or Lil' Wayne "Shine" to renew one's love for life. "So many karats like I'm a fucking vegetarian." So many karats indeed. So many karats indeed.

I was going to write a poem, like you know, an actual love poem for Valentine's Day. Like something for my future valentine. However, that fruity moment brought to you by Herbal Essences Body Wash didn't last too long. Shoulders and back from 11:30 am - 12:30 pm. OB from 3:00 - 4:30 pm. Psych experiment from 5:00 - 6:00 pm. Production homework from 10:00 pm - 6 am. Whatever, I still have hope for this Valentine's Day. I think I should stop hating Asians so much.

Nah.

2002-02-12T03:56:00.000-05:00

Last year, I gimped around the sidelines with a sprained ankle while TSA destroyed our hall's IM basketball team 50-25. Then someone from TSA wrote something along the lines of "You played well, One West! I'm proud of you!" and signed the TSA logo on the whiteboard in our hall. I think they were serious. My friend Aditya wrote "Fuck You" below it and drew an arrow to the TSA logo. My friends are awesome.

We have to beat KSA. We have to beat ASA. We have to do it for America. We have to beat Beta. We have to do it for . . . um . . . I don't know, the American Indian. Sure, why not? This one's for Uncle Sam and Sitting Bull. And Jennifer Lopez. Ooh, I should find a picture..........

2002-02-10T18:57:00.000-05:00

You know, you'd expect that a washing machine could remove some mud off my pants if I prewash, stain-stick, and use double detergent. Nope. Cheapass housing services. Get some new machines up in this mother! Once the smell subsides from the Jay-dump, I'm going to rewash this biatch in the tub.

I think my liver might finally be rebelling against me. I was really feeling the cheapie keystone ice last night. Start out like I always do, chugging the first one down. But then after that I could not take another sip. Couldn't finish a can. Couldn't dance. Couldn't get it up. Couldn't anything. Just a note, I was kidding about getting it up. Yet down the hatch they went anyway in the name of getting plastered. However that rum and Coke I hit later on went down smooth. I think it's just because I've been drinking liquor almost exclusively for the last few weeks and no beer. Or at least not cheapass beer. Worst case scenario: I have ulcers or my liver's giving out. I always worry about my liver. With my frequent alcohol consumption, I get really paranoid about other liver-damaging products like antibiotics, Tylenol, and Vitamin A. Well, only one way to find out what's going on. Next week, bottoms up, hoes down. And I will NOT forget to call my friends this time! Will NOT! I wrote a note and taped it above my desk. House parties - call Dave Kent. Honeys - call Donald. A diligent motherfucker I am.

Last night. Wow. Frustration definitely leads to anger when I'm drunk, but I cannot remember any time when I have been that drunk-angry. Reminds me of New Year's when Jong was muttering at me to go fuck myself when I was trying to tell him that he couldn't crash in that guy's room. Speaking of that party, I remember the one guy who struck out big time with these two girls going like, "Asians chicks, man. No more Asian chicks." Then I was like, "No, man, not Asian chicks. They were high school. No more high school chicks." Now I think we were both right. Asians, man. I knew this issue would come up again eventually. Hey, my best friends are Asian. But they're not . . . . . . . Azn. When I first came to CMU, I hated all Azns. Then again, when I first came to CMU, I also thought I could find a real girlfriend here. Just goes to show how ignorant I was.

There was a lot of misinterpretation of how African-Americans were treated before the Civil War. The general idea was that the North was supportive of the blacks while the South treated them like dirt. Wrong. Southern Scarlet O'Hara-type plantation folk looked down on the African-American race as a whole, which I agree was wrong. However, they did adore certain black individuals. They were raised by black nannies. They worked with black servants. It was trailer (or I guess horse & buggy) trash white folk, both in the North and the South, who had to compete with the blacks for work after the Civil War who practiced both prejudice and discrimination. That's a term I started using a lot while living at CMU after growing up in Ohio. Friend making a racist comment? White trash. CEO discriminating in hiring? White trash. I guess trailer trash might be less offensive, but the political impact just isn't there. Besides, they'll never stop me from calling people crackers.

Yeah, so I hate Asians. Or at least I hate Azns. I've definitely been rolling with them a lot lately, mainly because I got so sick of frat parties. I'm still sick of frat parties. In fact, I'm going to go ahead and say that I still have more fun at Asian parties and especially house parties than I do at most frat parties. Kind of surprising because CMU frat parties are so organized, like a small, free club that's guestlist only. Lighting. DJs. A dancefloor. A bar. Girls from CMU, Pitt, Chatham, everywhere dress up to come to our frats. P.S. Pitt chicks are easy. ;-) Haha, just kidding. Kind of. Actually it's true. I don't know, maybe I'm branching out to find something to do after sophomore year. I'm not going to frat parties for four years.

Lunar gala is an Asian event, but it is by no means exclusively Asian. There were a lot of white people there as well. Yes, I said white people. I didn't say non-Asians. Obviously members of other races participated in this event, but, like many aspects of CMU, it was primarily Asian and white. There was actually a surprising lack of many Indians. What the fuck, I'm rambling. ANYWAY. I went to the afterparty which was one of few parties on campus that actually features a healthy mix of Asian-crowd and non-Asian-crowd people. I think I miss rolling with white people. Another thing I hate about cliques other than exclusivity, when you're in one, you're embroiled in gossip and politics. Man, fuck that shit. I'm sure there are plenty of personal issues I'm ignoring right now, but I'm not going to write those in my blogger.

Also, I need to apologize to everyone I cockblocked last night. Yeah, that was definitely an unusual lack of tact on my part. I say dumb things when I'm drunk, but I'm usually good on that. Will definitely use my head more and my mouth less next time. And another thing. If I can't figure out how to use a fire extinguisher just because I'm wasted, then how good of a safety device is a fire extinguisher really? That was upsetting. Damn, blogger takes up so much time. I guess I have a lot on my mind. I think the Jay-smell definitely is gone now so I can wash this shit. That's all I got for now. I'll see you all at the frats.

2002-02-10T02:57:00.000-05:00

wow i know my pasword ppretty welel bec/ase i tpyu[peud oit os wlell;. ooyu ojkok there 'st hwal t;js goijng odjwhnm;., 9i wanet ot olunar galla and you know aht. it w askngl;ia dindt iwlike ti 1!!!!, i oondt lw;lik eluanr gar glalal ti wjust 2ante dto say cscream, at m,y foreind haqrper and tonight i c ant belive i go tod runk bopeuca sekninmy stomcach was ffeeling so bad aopyjnad ypou know wfuck tvalenieshntiens doay 9i iaijt dpojopting shit oyu ojmnknjow whta tyy b/c himy friend i who u ijtloiojo0ujghbt im yi hmight be uinteresteind int she iant intierjesited in me so fufkc that i odnt giv erran shit. like my friend enm always says i fucking ahate all chinks!!!!!!! i hseriousl yt do!!!!!! f8uck talll sasijn s!!! mna tufkc all tasinas!!! fuck them!!!!! i dotn fiuvuckiung giive a ahsit !! yo whtiew a;kjcucnioskl are better!!!!! uoyu i thoaplked to erin doaoln tohnigo[ptoh kljbuyt you kniow what llike last eekik i wne towhtot hsi hoine oar ty and i need 3eodjup becoming finrees diwth nakomi 1oso i yolikje naomsno1 1i11i1i1iyou!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! kklii odt n net nened any fycjkugn auasians i km ososo so so sos os so ssosrry i forg ot to calllod ave kent aoub tht the hopuse paretyh oi kkiist tptpa;y fporgptu/. i am so sufjciung frusrta terae drigh tnow io.. ,m i cant blewiv eit m,. sfukc this t;., iopjhj m,y ogod i fufkcing hate mcu i fos fucking hate smcu., goshit ., ii promkkose i canp-0iwoukldkjtn olkdriwrkt enma nyu more durnkm nblogs fuck that i hate tshits ufkcgin ssochool,.,, bman gburn athis shtidown ., i hat fu ckmigng hate asjians. yo en, if you'r ready hithisj. FUCK THAT SHCIK. i hate hterer hn mow. i dotjn wkn9ojh lie nwat o get with her. idotjn wknhtho want to gge twhis sha hehr naam ein shnatnahsha ;lkli hat eall asians. ufcl them thcur chtme fhfcujmrt htejm,..

2002-02-08T00:47:00.000-05:00

I am so sick of hearing about how much women hate players. Boohoo, I don't want to play games. You don't want to play games? You're the ones who make the games! We're the ones playing them! Now you get mad because the gambler is cleaning out the house? If there weren't so many bitches and hoes in this world, there wouldn't be any players either. Akerloff's Theory of Lemons, baby. Read up on your economics. Hell, I'll post it when I find a formal description. Yeah yeah, bitches and hoes make us appreciate the rest of you. Well then players can make you appreciate the rest of us. So to all my playas out there, keep pimpin', baby. Do it for society. Do it for the kids.

2002-02-08T00:38:00.000-05:00

I just realized that there's a job fair today. Damn! If I wasn't such a lazy fuck I'd be there right now. You know I think I swear too much. I think at the end of this entry, I'm going to go back and replace every case of profanity with the phrase, "bad word." Starting from here:

How does one live with the fact that his own birthday is going to be one of the worst days of the year? With the realization that less than a month later, he'll have one of the best days of the year, or at least that's usually how Valentine's Day turns out for me. Although this year my birthday was pretty alright and last year Valentine's sucked bad word so the streak might be over. See, this is one holiday where it's definitely better to be in a relationship. Because then it's like, oh, it's Valentine's Day, time to do something romantic as bad word for my girl then get some major bowchickabowwow later tonight. But without a girl, then it's like, should I do something? Who should I do something for? Her?? No way, that'd be awkward as hell. Bad word, I don't think she even likes me. Oh well, I got a week to figure it out. I canNOT believe I don't have tickets for lunar gala this weekend. I ain't getting up in the morning to pay extra to buy no bad wording standing tickets. Bad word tha police! I'm sneaking in!

I've been thinking a lot about my friends from back home this morning/afternoon. I think that's part of the reason I hate CMU so much. I don't have a confidant here. Don't get me wrong, I have a lot of good, close friends here. Just no one I tell all my secrets too. Bad word that, no one I tell ANY of my secrets to. No one whose character and allegiances I trust enough. Partly my fault, I don't really want to get close to too many people. But bad word, how much better would my life be if, say, Mark, Steve, En, and Jong were here? This is like the second time I've talked about them in my blogger, so I'm going to pause right now and just say no, I don't like wiener. These bad worders and the times we've had. How could I not think about them?

I could go on for days about them, but I'm just going to rattle off a series of memories. A handle of Fire & Ice, six cans of Red Dog, two cell phones, being censored for improper use of belts, surviving prom, hoes hoes hoes, Arabica's, Sun Lei and the skanks, calling girls' moms (for good AND evil), karaoke at da Lo Boong, trying to snowboard, Club X, LaserQuest, Laotians, Cedarville, basketball, basketball, basketball, and the dozens of other memories I'm not going to talk about in a public blog. Then of course there are the lines. "Maybe you're gay." "You better not pull another one out like your mom pulled another one out." "But they eat a LOT of potatoes!" "Chinese people, man, they got no friends!" "Ya hear me, I bad wording hate all bad words!" "One might be a problem, but they won't bad word with TWO Asians!" And of course, the most profound statement of the summer, "Yo, she was talking to me a lot more, so it's obvious she wants to suck MY bad word!"

Honestly, if they were here, I would love CMU. I would love anywhere. I would be invincible. I may not get much work done, but I'll do everything else I always say I'll do. But I guess I don't live in 1999 anymore. Steve's living the OSU life. Jong's doing premed and having Patty/Kate/Doug issues. En is the one responsible for bringing home the biggest slice of bacon to his family. Mark has his girlfriend to think about, the entire world against him, and a future riding so much on faith alone. Life happens. I should be glad I am where I am now. Yeah, sure.

So I was talking to this lovely drunk girl when I was wasted last Friday. Except she wasn't drunk. Why the hell would girls talk to me if they weren't drunk? I guess there are reasons, but that's the first thing that came to my mind when I realized she was sober. I had a few other things I wanted to blog tonight, but I just feel too unoriginal and uncreative. Gone complacent. I almost don't feel like posting this blog. I'm reading and it just feels like me being a whinybad word little bad word. Where's the hook? Where's the moral? Where's the message? Then again where are those in my life? Alright alright, I won't go that bad word route. It's just . . . . . so . . . . . . boring . . . . . . . . . . .

2002-02-06T00:07:00.000-05:00

I want half an inch off the top, but not as much off the front. Maybe like a quarter of an inch. Now I realize that's kind of difficult because it's actually two different lengths and two is a pretty big number, but you're experienced enough where you won't get confused and just blaze an inch off everywhere aren't you? I guess you aren't. And I didn't even get the one with the nice rack. Sorry, with the shapely bosom. That didn't sound any better. Damn. Oh well, guess I'll just go back to wearing bandanas.

Random thoughts during the day

At the gym:
DAMN! That is one fine Asian honey! Why's she with that guy? Yeah, that ripped guy with the chiseled features. Must be because he's balding. Makes him look mature. Because he'll have no hair in 10 years. Damn she fine!

Walking home:
Fine. Don't say hi. I don't need you to acknowledge my presence. I don't want to be your ac-quain-tance. Bitch. Ok ok, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. You're still hot. Then again, the first time I admitted to myself that one of my hot friends was a bitch was a very rewarding and confidence-building moment. Now I do it all the time. Bitch.

Walking home:
It's pretty damn cold, but it's a beautiful day. Let's not ruin it by behaving how you usually do. For just 10 seconds, don't think about girls. No girls. Ok. I still don't have an internship. Ok ok, no girls and nothing depressing. Just do that for 10 seconds. Ok . . . . . . . and . . . . . . . I . . . . . . am . . . . . . failing . . . . . . . . . . . . .

In front of the mirror before showering:
Why hello Mr. Jacked. (yes, I really thought that, shut your mouth)

In organizational behavior:
Competition and bitterness has blinded us so much to the greater good. We need to learn to stop scrambling over pieces when we should be learning how to increase the size of the pie. Negotiation should not be a battle but a cooperative effort to solve a problem. All it takes is one belligerent party and any chance of a positive resolution for all parties is a ruined. Play nice. Or daddy will beat you. And the dog too just for good measure.

Ok, so I don't really think all that. More like the first two lines of each. But that's a day in the life.

2002-02-04T03:58:00.000-05:00

You know what? I just realized what a good friend Whitey is. He came with me to the Asian party a week ago for crying out loud. And he was the only white guy there. Hahaha! Well, unless you count me. Brian "Whitey" Kohler. What a character. Why haven't I finished my work yet? Damn it! Wait, I think I still have some schnapps left.

2002-02-04T02:06:00.000-05:00

Go out and rent (or download, whatever) "Boondocks Saints." It's kind of an indie-like movie directed by Quentin Tarantino. Pretty damn good. The basic gist of it is that there are these three vigilantes going around killing mob bosses and other assorted dangerous individuals involved in organized crime. And they is good at what they do. Very good. Very violent. I liked it.

Now here's the social aspect aka the deep shit. Do I think these three guys knocking off powerful criminals are wrong? Survey says: No. Do I think they're evil? No. Would I be worried about them? No. But here's what does worry me about people like them. This movie ended in an interesting way. It was a mock news expose interviewing people on the street about their feelings regarding these vigilantes. Some were like, "No comment." Some were like, "That's totally wrong." Some were like, "They're a blessing to the community." What would worry me are those people who were like, "Sign me up! I want a piece of this! I want to get a gun! I want to be a hero too!"

These three anti-heroes had very clear, defined motives and were very skilled and disciplined at what they did. The fuckers off the street who wanted to get guns and "shoot bad guys" were jackasses. As good or supposedly good their intentions may be, handing those asses a gun is like giving a three-year old a hand grenade. It'd only be a matter of time before they do something stupid and the shit (and guts and brains and other body matter) would hit the fan. Would I trust the average American citizen with a gun? Hell no. And you know what's the sad part? That's why I would get a gun as well. Cap cap suckas.

2002-02-04T01:37:00.000-05:00

He spent his whole life being too young to live the life that's in his dreams. At night he lies awake and he wonders, "Why can’t that be me?" 'Cause in his life he's filled with all these good intentions. He’s left a lot of things he’d rather not mention right now. But just before he says goodnight, he looks up with a little smile at me and he says, "If I could be like that, I would give anything. Just to live one day in those shoes. If I could be like that, what would I do? What would I do?"

Now in dreams we run.

She spends her days up in the north park watching the people as they pass, and all she wants is just a little piece of this dream. Is that too much to ask? With a safe home and a warm bed on a quiet little street. All she wants is just that something to hold onto. That’s all she needs. Yeah. If I could be like that, I would give anything. Just to live one day in those shoes. If I could be like that, what would I do? What would I do?

I’m falling into this. In dreams, we run away.

If I could be like that, I would give anything. Just to live one day in those shoes. If I could be like that, what would I do? What would I do? If I could be like that, I would give anything. Just to live one day in those shoes. If I could be like that, what would I do? What would I do? If I could be like that, I would give anything. Just to live one day in those shoes. If I could be like that, what would I do? What would I do? Falling in; I feel I am falling into this again.

- 3 Doors Down

2002-02-03T05:29:00.000-05:00

I don't even know why I ever bother staying in Friday or Saturday nights. I say I'll get work done but I never do.

Tonight was my much dreaded birthday dinner. And by tonight I mean last night because while I live 3 pm - 6 am, the rest of the world seems to live 8 am - 12 pm. My birthday was January 25. I refused to tell anyone my birthday. I probably would never have told anyone until maybe mid-March if some tall, pale, blonde mofo hadn't decided to get it into his head to ask one Timmy L from back home when "Dave's birthday" is. Of course, Tim had no idea which fucking "Dave" this weirdo was asking him about, so instead of admitting confusion he, and God bless him, decides to feed Whitey some bullshit date. So Whitey spreads the news and starts his usual smug whiteboy routine, and I panick because this is January 24 and I think they actually found out about my birthday. Dejected, I decide to seek advice from, guess who, the Timster himself. It's a surprise for both of us. Then it was the Asian man cracking the whip and the white man nailing down railroad tracks. Eventually I had to break the news of course. I didn't want a birthday party on my birthday, but I definitely didn't want a birthday party on Februrary 6. In retaliation, I am forced to go to this little dinner this week. These "friends of mine" even sabotaged my other dinner plans so that I'd have to go.

Now the question everybody is asking: Is Whitey gay? The answer is a most resounding YES, but we hold nothing against him for that. However, the reasons behind my not liking birthdays are a bit more complicated. First of all, if someone throws you a birthday party, you are 100% obligated to return the favor and return it well. I am far too lazy for responsibility like that. Though I frown upon people who still throw birthday parties, I nonetheless go and usually have a good time. What's a birthday party? These are your friends. Or at least the ones who could make it. And the ones who actually remembered. This is what we think you like. This is how much we are willing to spend for you. This is how far we are willing to go for you. This is how much you are worth to us. This is how much you are worth to the world. Is this good enough for you? Are we good enough for you? To some, it's just another excuse to party. To me, a birthday is the day you are weighed, measured, and told how exactly how much you are worth. Every year it's the same answer: not much. January 25 is always among Lei David Chen's most disappointing days of the year.

If I had my way, my birthday party would be every single friend I have from Ohio, CMU, wherever coming together in one place getting totally wasted for my sake. Then the fantasy gets a little more adult-oriented, but I won't go there. Obviously, that's not happening, so I usually celebrate by doing what I consider to be the next best thing: nothing. I'll walk around the whole day with my balls hanging out, but that's about it. I got a whole bunch of analogies, but I'm just going to admit being a cop-out. I realize I'm pansying out. I'll stand up for anyone but myself.

That being said, I did have fun tonight. These people did make the effort to come out for me, so I couldn't just give them the shaft. I tried not to be bitter all night. Well, these people certainly are some of my best friends because that was pretty easy. Of course there were some awkward moments. I heard some clapping behind me so I started clapping too. Then I realized the clapping was for me, so I got the fuck out of there and came back when the birthday cheer crew had left. And I don't care if it's my parents, I'm uncomfortable letting other people pay for me. Hmm, probably shouldn't tell people that. Though I would've rather gone on a regular dinner and paid for my own meal with the same people, I have to say that I am grateful for friends who would make a big deal about it. Far better to have friends who don't know my birthday and care than ones who do know my birthday and don't care. So thank you Q. Thank you Janice. Thank you Steve. Thank you Harper. Thank you Scotty. And thank you Elissa and Brian who've been annoying the hell out of me about this for so long. Thank you. I hope you forget my birthday next year.

2002-01-31T02:13:00.000-05:00

I have three types of away messages for aim. Music lyrics, short random phrases, and long empathic messages. I usually save the last ones. I was going through them today. Here's a poem that I wrote as an away message sometime during the middle of last semester:

Ode to "Friendship"
by The Chendaddy
A gift from me to many of you, and I'm sure a gift from many of you to me.

Don't tell me you're too busy
I have shit to take care of too

Don't tell me life gets in the way
I've been putting mine aside for you

Don't tell me that you're sorry
Nevermind, you never do

Don't tell me it's my loss
I never wanted to be part of your crew

Why am I even writing this fruity poem?
You don't care or even pretend to

Do you even hear me when I tell you
Guess what, friend? Fuck you.

That's the kind of mood I was in back then. Frustrated. Unappreciated. Hopeless. I'm not going to lie and tell you that I feel completely differently these days. If you read my blogs, you'd know that's not true. You know what I thought when I read that little ditty today? . . . . . . . . . . AH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA that's some funnyass shit! I don't know why. Sometimes I get drunk and violently angry. Not like agh, I'm going to go home and beat my kids angry. I'm not one of those guys. Like, let's punch another wall and break my hand again angry. I always leave these angryass away messages. Like seriously pissed off at everyone. Not joking in the slightest. I am honestly furious. They make for the funniest reading the next morning. Why? I don't know. Maybe I take all the wrong things seriously when I'm drunk. Or maybe I take all the wrong things seriously when I'm sober. Hmm.

I've been hearing some complaints about the incredibly hot women on my blogger. That's to be expected. Luckily for you, it's kind of hard finding just the right picture of women I consider hot, so I'm going to cut that out. On the other hand, I'm going to look for a good photo of the Saleen S7 to post here. Yeah, just as vain and yet I bet no one'll jump on my case about that. Mm-hmm. I'm on to you.

I've also been asked to write about my childhood and how it's shaped my life. I don't write about my childhood for the same reasons that I don't write about everything that happened to me during my day. So much happens during the course of a day. So much has happened in my entire life. Even if you had the patience to listen to all of it, I don't have the patience to write about it. That'd bore the shit out of me. If my years as an abductee on the alien mothership becomes relevant to what I'm thinking at the moment, I'll write about it. If something more significant than me picking my nose in psych class happens during my day, I'll write about it.

Besides, do you think I want to share my truly innermost thoughts and life-altering experiences with all of you? Yeah right! In the words of my bro Mark, "You thought you had a friend. Haha!" What kind of experiences do people think I have? I'll tell you right now that of the really momentuous ones in the last few years, I've spent a great deal of effort trying to remember the lesson while forgetting the actual experience. My life is no tragedy (yet), but it's certainly no Chicken Soup for the College Soul.

So why are you here?

You need uplifting advice. Talk to me. My IM's "The Chendaddy." I get a sick, twisted high from helping people. Maybe not these days as I'm busy as hell, but if you catch me on a slow day I'll be looking forward to get a fix of dirty kindness.

Why are you here?

You want to find out everything about me. Not likely. I can probably count the number of people who actually care on two hands. I can count the number of people I actually do share all my thoughts with on half a hand. A bloody, half-hand.

Why are you here?

Because misery loves company. Eh, find yourself a support group, son. Do as I say, not as I do. Don't live my life.

Why are you here?

You think I'm a nice, sensitive guy. You expect poetry about the morning sunlight dancing on the golden waves of a wheatfield. You expect me to bare my soul about seeing the stars on a calm night and wishing that I could share the same starlit sky with the love of my life. You expect me to get down on my knees, open wide, and swallow. Get the fuck out of here.

Why are you here?

To find humor in a man with a bitter life and the occasional intelligent observation. And maybe drool over a few pics of hot babes.

Well, my friend, welcome. My name's Dave. My friends call me Chendaddy. This is my blogger.

2002-01-29T21:27:00.000-05:00

Blogger in 20 minutes because I have work to do and I can't keep wasting time on this stuff. I'm not a fan of my Business and Society professor. He's a funny guy, I'll give you that. He cracks some good ones, but I get the feeling too many at other people's expenses. When I heard he was going to call on people to answer questions, I thought I was back in fucking high school. Now I know why he has to call on people. If your opinion is in any way different from his, he will jump all over you. Doesn't matter how valid your point is. Now of course if you're one of those people who just always agree with the professor, you'll love this guy. I, Mr. Chen "Fuck tha Police" Daddy, am not a fan of this. Ok ok, so I get a kick out of him picking on the FOBs who obviously didn't do the reading and can't think of anything to say. And oh yeah, it's always the FOBs. But those guys are asking for it. What about the people who just want to chime in with a different thought? Sarcasm. Patronism. Arrogance. He's probably a great lawyer, but teachers are supposed to have a more of an open mind.

That being said, my OB professor is just the opposite. Dude, if you think we're wrong, just tell us we're wrong! Don't go with it just because you don't understand what we're saying. Son of a bitch one day I want to just jump in and say, "You like to hump small animals!" and see if he'll just nod and say, "Yes, ok." Fucking A. Incompetence. Confusion. Credulity. What's with this attendance credit bullshit? Shit, I ain't going to that fucking class I don't care which honeys are in there.

One thing I never really mention in my blogs is my romantic life. Well, ok ... so I was watching this Mandy Moore video last night right? Wait, no, nevermind, stay out of my romantic life. =Þ

"Some of them are so fresh that I can still smell the fish!" - Didi

2002-01-29T04:36:00.000-05:00

I'm not posting right now because I have something significant to say. Rather, I have nothing to say. I'm just posting because I'm retarded and don't realize that all these little self-scrutinizations in the form of bloggers, web pages, asian avenue harassment, etc. are really what are distracting my attention from real work. Sure, introspection is important, but I have been staring too long at too little. Where's the internship? Where's the communications design minor?

Here's a few oh shits. Oh shit, I've put off writing my IBM cover letter for almost a full month now. Oh shit, Proctor & Gamble visited my school and I hadn't even submitted an application there so there goes a chance to intern there. Oh shit, right now my entire internship future is riding on a single application. Oh shit, I haven't written a personal statement yet for my CD minor application. Oh shit, I still don't know if my design project is due February 5 or March 14. Oh shit, if it's due next Tuesday, I'm royally fucked because I am nowhere near done. Oh shit, I just a few minutes ago finally ripped the plastic off the organizational behavior book and we have our first quiz Thursday. Oh shit, I haven't even touched regression yet and that's due Wednesday. Oh shit, have I even cracked looked at the reading for more than one class? Oh shit, I haven't emailed the activities committee, Joe Rudman, or Eric to tell him that hey, don't worry that you dropped out of the first-year project challenge, everyone did. Oh shit, I said I'd be giving real devotion to starting up Marketing Club with Megan this semester but I'm way behind on that. Oh shit, housing looks sketchy for next semester because someone might not be moving out of the house we're looking at. Oh shit, I still need to find a job on-campus or I can forget about Cancun this spring break. Oh shit, I need to gain 20 lbs by the end of March. Oh shit, I don't have a girlfriend OR a fuckbuddy. Oh shit oh shit oh shit OH SHIT.

The only thing I'm really not worried about is our first intramural basketball game coming up this February 4. I'm sure we won't be taking home any championship t-shirts, but I'm just happy that I'm on a team and will get to play. I think I need to take a semester off. I found out today a friend of mine is taking this semester off. Too bad, she was hot. Haha. Well, it's true! But I don't want to be in Shitsburgh for longer than I have to be. Kordell. Way to buckle under pressure. I actually had hope that the Steelers could still take it until that last interception with two minutes left. Damn. My only comfort is knowing that the Rams will kill the Patriots this Sunday. I don't take pleasure in many aspects of life, but the failure of people other than me never fails to bring a smile to my face. That, and hot chicks. Yeah hot chicks are cool.

Sometimes I feel bad about using the term "retarded." People berate me for calling things "gay," but everyone seems to be ok if I call something "retarded." That's just gay.

2002-01-28T17:31:00.000-05:00

So yesterday I'm doing the laundry and, as usual, I have to take someone else's crap out and put mine in. In unrelated news, the fuckers in B-tower stole the garbage bags I stole from the fuckers in C-tower, so I took them back. Bam! It hits me. Instead of putting that other person's crap on some filthyass, dustyass, lintyass table or other washing machine, why don't I just bring down a trash bag and put the clothes on the bag? So that a did, a courtesy to the common man. Of course, later when I came down for my clothes, they were on a filthyass, dustyass, lintyass washing machine. When you're a nice person, you realize what a rare commodity you are. Yet while you realize your worth to others, you also realize your worthlessness to yourself. Pathos. Obsolescence. Extinction. Nonetheless, I will continue to bring garbage bags with me to do laundry.

"I need bitches." - Anonymous

2002-01-27T04:14:00.000-05:00

The Trojan War was not fought over a chick. Helen of Troy. Who's that? Nobody. Just like the nutass who shot the Austrian Arch-Bishop in 1914. The Trojan War was fought because Greece and Troy were equally-matched militaristic countries. Greece was a naval country and Troy had a very strategic port location. This was a rivalry brewing for ages. This was an economic war. A war of egos. A man's war. Show me a woman who would drive entire nations to war and I will dedicate my life to pursuing her. If the president of Bolivia kidnapped Britney Spears, the Bolivian people would revolt, kill el presidente, and return Britney immediately. If the president of China kidnapped Britney Spears, there'd be some serious shit going down. Though in the end, China would probably return her too. No one fucks with the United States, and no one fucks with Britney Spears.

2002-01-26T16:45:00.000-05:00

How many of you people out there been hurt in some kind of love affair? And how many times did you swear that you’d never love again? How many lonely, sleepless nights? How many lies, how many fights? And why would you want to put yourself through all of that again? Love is pain I hear you say. Love is a cruel and bitter way of paying you back for all the faith you ever had in your brain. How could it be that what you need the most can leave you feeling just like a ghost? You never want to feel so sad and lost again. One day you could be looking through an old book in rainy weather. You see a picture of her smiling at you when you were still together. You could be walking down the street and who should you chance to meet? But that same old smile you’ve been thinking of all day. Why don't we turn the clock to zero honey? I’ll sell the stock we’ll spend all the money. We're starting up a brand new day. Turn the clock all the way back. I wonder if she’ll take me back. I’m thinking in a brand new way. Turn the clock to zero sister. You’ll never know how much I missed her. Starting up a brand new day. Turn the clock to zero boss. The rivers wide we’ll swim across. We're starting up a brand new day.

It could happen to you just like it happened to me. There is simply no immunity. There's no guarantee. I say love is such a force if you find yourself in it. You need some time for reflection. You say, baby wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute. Turn the clock to zero honey. I’ll sell the stock we’ll spend all the money. We're starting up a brand new day. Turn the clock to zero Mac. I'm begging her to take me back. I’m thinking in a brand new way. Turn the clock to zero boss. The rivers wide we'll swim across. Starting up a brand new day. Turn the clock to zero buddy. Don’t wanna be no fuddy duddy. We're starting up a brand new day.

I’m the rhythm in your tune. I’m the sun and you’re the moon. I’m the bat and you’re the cave. You’re the beach and I’m the wave. I’m the plough and you're the land. You’re the glove and I’m the hand. I’m the train and you’re the station. I’m the flagpole to your nation. I'm the present to your future. You're the wound and I'm the suture. You're the magnet to my pole. I'm the devil in your soul. You're the pupil I'm the teacher. You're the church and I'm the preacher. You're the flower I'm the rain. You're the tunnel I'm the train. Stand up, all you lovers in the world. Stand up and be counted, every boy and every girl. Stand up, all you lovers in the world. We're starting up a brand new day. You're the crop to my rotation. You're the sum of my equation. I'm the answer to your question. If you follow my suggestion. We could turn this ship around. And go up instead of down. You're the pan and I'm the handle. You're the flame and I'm the candle. Stand up, all you lovers in the world. Stand up and be counted, every boy and every girl. Stand up, all you lovers in the world. Starting up a brand new day.

- Sting

2002-01-24T01:27:00.000-05:00

So I'm on this new shit. No more going to bed at 5 am. From now on, I'm going to bed early and getting my work done early in the morning. Yeah, I know it's crazy. And I know what you're all thinking. But Chendaddy, what about future sales for Mountain Dew? Well it is true that MD and I had many a passionate night, but I guess it's just time to kick that bitch to the curb. Nah, I'm not one of those guys. Nope. I'm a nice guy. Nice guy. You're such a nice guy. There's something I don't ever want to hear referred to me. You're so funny. You're such a good listener. You're a good friend. I set myself up for that shit. I guess I just figure that if I'm such a fucking great friend, if I give myself up for help or to talk about anything, if I do enough selfless deeds, then maybe there'd be a reward at the end of that rainbow for me. Nice people aren't caring. They're just naive. Funny how many people who turn to you aren't there when you need someone to turn to.

What I would like is someone who I can always go to. Who'd drop everything for me, because I'd do the same for her. Someone I can talk to in bad times AND good. To steal a Ben Affleck line, my last call. Damn. How phat would that be? That'd be better than doing 10 hot chicks per week! Ok, ok, that'd be better than doing 10 hot chicks per week after, say, ten weeks of doing so. Maybe 20 weeks. In any case, neither scenario seem close on the horizon. Honestly, if I really shape up my discipline and buckle down on my work, I think I'm probably 100 times more likely to be able to arrange the latter than to have the former happen. Well, I guess if I have to settle for the weekly menage a dix, then that's what I have to live with. Might as well drop these fantasies of the perfect one when I should be focusing on the reality of who'll be the next perfect 10.

2002-01-21T23:44:00.000-05:00

Ok, no more drunk posts. I knew eventually one would happen, and I really was kind of curious as to how it would look. Well, there you go. Yeah. Even I can't read most of that crap. So, fuuuuuug dat.

I tend to overdramatize my life a lot. If I don't talk to this girl when I pass by the gym, I'm depressed for the whole day. If I don't get a higher score than that prick, I'm livid for the whole day. If I don't talk to this girl when I see her in class, I'm depressed for the whole day. If I check my email and realize I have two people I still have to reply to, I'm frustrated for the whole day. If I don't talk to this girl when I see her at a party, I'm depressed for the whole night. If I miss more shots than I make at basketball, I'm determined ... for a moment. If I do talk to this girl and we have a great conversation, then it's Christmas, New Year's, and a day at Disneyland for a four-year old all rolled into one.

What does that mean? A) My life is sad. B) My life is sheltered. C) I really don't have all that much to live for. Seriously, how many times have I asked these questions. What is my aim? What is my purpose? Why don't I look both ways before I cross the street? I would like to say to educate the world to the pettiness of its ways in true Chendaddy-style, but this whole academy award-winning film career idea of mine just doesn't seem to be panning out too well in my current situation. Last semester or my freshman year, I forget which one, this CMU kid jumped off a bridge on Halloween. Why? I agree that his privacy should be the right of his family, but what did we learn from it? Nothing. Don't tell me there wasn't a moral in there. I don't know, maybe it was just a myth. See, it's so obscure that I don't even remember if it was truth or not.

Now with all this gloomy drivel, I know what you're all thinking. Gee, I sure hope Chendaddy kills himself or someone else to make a statement. Sorry chump, that's not going to happen. I'm fine. Yes, I know, the words of everyone in denial. But sometimes I get the feeling that maybe I should be in the military or the peace corps or have grown up in Palestine so I'd know what it's like to live instead of just be alive. Yet at the same time, I probably should be grateful that I'm not and I wasn't.

Well that certainly was a mind-boggling and depressing entry. I think it's only fitting for me to end with another photo of a major babe. I decided to go Asian-style this time in honor of the food stinking up the trash can under my desk. Fortune cookie says: "Jesus hates customers who tip less than 10%." Zhang Ziyi, as I'm sure you realize, is YUMMY. I think the number of ladies on my blog is getting excessive. Another unproductive night. Great, Whitey's going to be pissed I've borrowed his business and society book for almost a week and have barely read any of it. Oh well.

2002-01-20T04:14:00.000-05:00

wsoooo,. it took yme wahiwle to gsing into this . gtyping your passwoprd ins hard when touy cant typ[e. ok what do ia have to say. i dont know. i a,mr omatnicdtlalyl shcanllegned. yahhaha yes thats what i am. bman i ham so wasted. damn i donthope ymyh fuckingt aroooooomates dont wake my e eup tomrororor wmormningt taht would suck. hahahahhahahahaa. you knjo whwat .. i dliek tallt hese girs;;l.., and i shoujld odtotlalyl ber with them. but i cat .l. whuy:"??":?????? i dotn wknowho. todauy iw as tat theta xi z wok k, get this wpfuckign whiteyu aol.lwyua spicsk up hcisk why ica nt do uodt ah te sjaem shwy odoes hwitey got jmkore game snothan eme l.. no rlike t selhwlike whitey says si got nwo e spelf-respect i';;ll do it. os tosaedyaw rhkwjhritwtye and aklmati whw erelike s gaufkvijnh o go pujn ch slbonde hari ed soccer safguy and iw as like ihuhhhhhhhh idotn wknthitskj o s..l i mean uis oilk ehot go ruopl wut cokme ohin. yo ai think i like theha tlikuyel;lyk gilrl but ki odpot nm kwjioho i thought she elsieks emd hytu vbbut aopapprpprent ly tni she doesnt hwy i dotjn wkholknmow osmestnem si m iu ruiuoin things whene im ,oiujt iownt her erla word no tothjat kcu i sthe lrea lworldl wo wi m not felelelign shos thot. kehjkpoe ia see her al;taigan. i relalyl do. io dotnm frealyl ajreua fi sm fne vherm sayys amy ahya soro erjuso fcjsiting aogian agiuhsjosbeacsue sjtoyu knoiw hayjio ikme 4na sok oji spo ijm imeanb i woujdl like ot satay ofreisnd wub rim sorrroyh that s a littllek erepporesiprjsnboiel fo rme,.ee. krylll. he trname sin skeklylg.

2002-01-19T04:46:00.000-05:00

So tonight, instead of being the unconscious drunk myself, I got to experience the other end. You know what? It comes naturally to someone who's been there. Vomiting, however, is still not very pleasant. I realize that after my own passing out experience I wasn't quite as thankful as I should've been to the ones who helped me out. Not the ones all snickering and talking shit while dragging me around. Fuck them. They can eat a dick. To the ones who carried me around without complaint while I was puking all over them and myself. Thanks. I guess that doesn't exactly fit my description tonight. I always say "age isn't the end of childhood, responsibility is," and I feel there's nothing sexier about a woman than maturity. Not wrinklyass flapping arms and baseball mit face maturity, but. Well. I'm falling asleep at my keyboard. It's tough finding a great girl at CMU.

2002-01-16T00:41:00.000-05:00

I know. I know. I'm supposed to be disciplined. I'm supposed to be getting work done. I'm supposed to be buckling down this semester. I'm not supposed to just do the bare minimum Get-the-4.0 bullshit anymore. But it's around this time of the night that the mind wanders. You see . . .

Ooh, I bet you're wondering how I knew
'bout your plans to make me blue
With some other guy that you knew before
Between the two of us guys
You know I love you more
It took me by surprise I must say
When I found out yesterday
Don't you know that

I heard it through the grapevine
Not much longer would you be mine
Oh I heard it through the grapevine
Oh and I'm just about to lose my mind
Honey honey yeah

I know that a man ain't supposed to cry
But these tears I can't hold inside
Losin' you would end my life you see
Cause you mean that much to me
You could have told me yourself
That you love someone else
Instead . . .

I heard it through the grapevine
Not much longer would you be mine
Oh I heard it through the grapevine
Oh and I'm just about to lose my mind
Honey honey yeah

People say believe half of what you see
Son, and none of what you hear
I can't help bein' confused
If it's true please tell me dear
Do you plan to let me go
For the other guy you loved before
Don't you know

I heard it through the grapevine
Not much longer would you be mine
Baby I heard it through the grapevine
Oooh and I'm just about to lose my mind
Honey honey yeah

Honey honey I know
That you let me go
Said I heard it through the grapevine
Ooh ooh yeah

Marvin Gaye rules. Regression Analysis does not.

2002-01-15T13:09:00.000-05:00

When Snow White hooked up with Prince Charming, what happened to Mikey, the janitor who swept the castle's dungeon and had a thing for her? Man, that dude was always doing shit for White. Helping her with her chores. Sneaking her out to go tavern-hopping on weekends. Leaving flowers and bunnies and shit at her doorstep. Listening to her moan on and on for hours about her bitch stepmom queen.

Mikey didn't know about S-dubs lying around dead in the woods with seven little people waiting around for true love to plant a fat one on her before rigor mortus kicks in. All he knew was that he hadn't seen his girl for months, maybe years I don't know how the damn story goes, and he's probably drinking up a damn storm hitting the bottle every night trying to ease his pain with the chambermaids. Now that bitch queen be gone too, and all of a sudden *BAM*, here's Snow White with motherfucking Prince Charming all huggly snuggly hooking up, getting married, living happily ever after. What's a suave dungeon-sweeping janitor to do? Maybe if Mikey studied a little harder for his SATs. Maybe if Mikey went to the right college. Doing whatever makes you happy has its consequences. Success, baby, success counts.

2002-01-12T05:44:00.000-05:00

It's 4 am. I have to get up at 8 am to go back to school. As usual, sleep is sacrificed so that I can . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Yeah. So anyway. I'm at the end of my break. Has it been fun? Hell yes. I didn't see everyone I wanted to see, but between the New Year's Party in Cleveland and rolling with my bro Marhelo again, this has certainly been one hell of a break. But now it's semester four. 4 of 8. I'm going in with a lot on my mind, as usual, but I have to say this. Almost all of last semester has been absolute SHIT. Good God, I'm talking where the fuck do I sign to transfer the fuck out of here shiat. Just when I thought I was getting used to being a CMU student, campus life throws you one more reason you can buy guns at your friendly neighborhood Wal-Mart.

So I'm heading into my second semester of my second year of college at Carnegie Mellon University with a lot on my mind . . .

I like my hair an unnatural color. So for those of you who pleaded with me to let it go back to black. I'm sorry. Screw you. And your mother.

Waiting for motivation to get me to do my design project, look for internships, study for exams, etc. etc. etc. is like waiting for death. I'm just wasting my life away expecting it to show up. Discipline. I need to force myself to do that crap even if the only good that'll come out of it is in the distant future. Live in the present my ass. Burn out my tomorrow. Yet at the same time, aren't these supposed to be the best years of my life? When will you ever be in another place where everyone is your age, going through what you're going through, and looking for what you're looking for? When you're in the retirement home shitting yourself looking for death. Ok, I'm sorry, maybe that was a little insensitive, but I'm not looking forward to aging just yet. Hell, I dread the day I turn 30. Carpe diem, party hard, fuck yourself up today while you're still invincible. Well what's that leave for tomorrow? All I know about the future is that I need a fucking internship bad.

Ashani, the girl who sings on Ja Rule's "Always On Time," is HOT. In related news, I can't find a single damn picture of her on the internet.

In other related news, Jessica Alba is also HOT, and here's a picture of her:

Hot chicks are cool. Yeah. Especially real ones. There's a lesson to be learned here, but I'll let you figure that out on your own.

Basketball is not as pure for me as I pretend it is. When I'm on the court or in my driveway or wherever, I'm not thinking about basketball. I'm thinking, I can't shoot. I'm not focused, I'm going to drop passes again. Intramural season's coming up. I have to do good. I'm not ready. I'm not going to do good. We killed everyone last summer in Cedarville, and I have to play even beyond that level. So and so likes this guy. He can play better than me. Probably not related, but it can't hurt if I kick his ass in ball. Or that guy's ass. Or this other guy's ass. DAMN IT, I HAVE TO STICK IT TO THESE AZNS!!!

"Look! I'm Azn! I'm Azn!"

So and so's a bitch. So and so's also a bitch. So and so's the biggest bitch of them all, except for so and so who just takes the bitch crown of the new millenium. I ain't gonna talk to you. Talk to your damn self, bitch. But I think I was too hard on so and so. Maybe so and so, too, but probably not. But I tried, you know, to patch things up. Sometimes all you can do is put your balls on the table and see what happens, but some other times I get the feeling I need to do more than that. Like it's not enough that the ball's in her court; I have to look away while she drives to the basket. Or maybe she's not even playing anymore. Well. What can I say? Play with deez.

I vaguely remember something important that happened last summer that haunts me. I vaguely remember gagging on that damn Evan and Jaron song. That's a lie, I remember it clearly. But it's just something else that needs to be pushed to the back of my head.

As much love I have for my friends at CMU, I really missed rolling with my friends back home. Whether anyone reads this or not, I'm sentimental enough at this point to have to give props...
To Jong and the Jedi, laughter is just not same unless it's at the end of one of your homophobic/racist/"your mom"/anti-feminist remarks. I won't even go into the havoc we wreak on asianavenue.com, but remember the Fire & Ice and Red Dogs.
To Steph Xu, though you're not really at "home," we talk to each other enough when I am for me to say you are too. Still, I hope we actually do get to see each other again someday. Someone who at the very least tried to and often succeeded at being a woman when everyone else was just a girl. I should really be out in California. =)
To Steve, the pimp of OSU who always lends his ear to me and I don't know why. Maybe your life sucks. Or maybe that's what being best friends is about ;). Thanks for being the only person I know who always listens.
To Mark. Marké. Marhelo. Fatty #2. If you were a woman, I would make you my wife. And what an ugly wife you would be. The kind who'd make me cheat with my secretary AND the girl who walks our dog. So thank God you're a man. Or at least pretty damn close. Times are tough, bro, we all know this. Just remember, one step at a time. One day at a time. I realize you're at a time when you can't just say, "Fuck what everyone else thinks" anymore. But look at it this way, how many guys are so blessed to have such an amazing woman sacrifice so much to be with them? Not a lot. Certainly not me. Keep the faith, man. We may not walk the same road anymore, but we both still have to do it with our heads high. Maria, take good care of the fat man. He's got more love than Santa. =)

Well, that certainly was enough sentimentality for all the rest of my college days. So instead of closing my vacation with an inspiring maxim or a tear-provoking tale of woe, I will end it in true Chendaddy fashion. With a picture of Tara Reid who, by the way, is also HOT. Now that I've ruined my chances with every real girl I know, see you all spring semester!! Peace.

2002-01-09T04:40:00.000-05:00

Winning a war is like making a baby. If you get tired and pull out, you have only yourself to blame if you don't end up with a kid. Desperately trying to regain your dignity with such remarks as "We would've won if we stayed in there!" only further illustrates your impotence. This is your war, your child, your duty to see it to the end. Who knows what could've happened if you'd stayed in. But you didn't. You got tired. You suffer from civil unrest. Your back support isn't what it used to be. Your boys are still fighting the good fight down there, but their shipmates are headed home to apple pie and late-night reruns. And that's why Vietnam is a communist country today, boys and girls.

So instead of my cover letter to IBM, I stayed up to write that. I'm a fucking idiot.

2002-01-08T03:39:00.000-05:00

So I am Chendaddy and this is Blogger. I don't know why I have a blogspot. I have a diary to tell myself how I'm doing and a webpage to make fun of the rest of you suckers. So why do I have this chendaddy.blogspot.com. Maybe I'm a trendy bastard. I'm always afraid of being a trendy bastard. Originality is key. That's right. Take THAT Nine Years of Living in Comformistass Jackson Township, Ohio. Then again, I'll probably try anything once for the honeys. No, no, can't be a little bitch. Take that back! I still refuse to get a subprofile. Just seems shady.

So I'm going to state what's on my mind minus any names, incriminating details about other people's lives, and hateful ethnic/gender-based/sexually-oriented/etc. slurs. Basically, I'm not going to say much. It's getting late, and I can add one more failed night to applying to internships and/or working on my design project. But I'm determined to work tomorrow, which I say everyday, and even deleted all the games off my laptop like a good little heterosexual boyscout.

P.S. This is me:

Goodnight.