Sex and Mirrors

The funny thing about mirrors is that when they’re broken up into tiny little pieces and plastered against the wall directly adjacent to your bed they also double as razor blades. I learned this very important lesson while engaging in sexually lewd acts with a crazy person. Who knew that while dry humping some tisch student I’d be endanger of not only some awful overacting on her part but of also slicing up inch wide gashes on my arm that made me look like a suicide attempt or at the least someone that got in a fight with a crazed squirrel. The only thing worse than having all of your friends think you’re cutting is them thinking you missed and cut your fucking elbow. Trust me, it’s embarrassing. It didn’t help that she had a bunk bed and usually I was so drunk I just tumbled off the 5 foot drop and hoped to land on my side. At least the bruises were covered by my shirt. This small experience is just one of many that have made my time in New York all the more interesting. Despite all the blood…and emotional damage, I don’t regret any of it aside from the scarring, I could totally live without the scarring but I mean chicks dig scars. However, this did always make me wonder about the weird things people do just to make something their own. I once had a girl repeatedly bite me in the midst of what I thought was kissing only for her to explain this “loving” action as something she only did with me. Yea…listen if I wanted a swollen, cut up mouth I’d go out and start a fight with the nearest drunk bro I could find. Otherwise I’m not interested in suffering physical injury in the hope for sex, especially when everyone knows that open wounds make you like a million times more susceptible to AIDS, yea still definitely not interested. What ever happened to the person you were with being enough excitement. Granted, I’m probably not a good example as I’m about as thrilling as a snail race on tv in a hook up but regardless I had the distinct feeling that I wasn’t the only man these women had treated to such “unconventional” acts of affection. Call me old fashioned, call me boring, call me a pussy, but I like the action to be between two consenting partners sans deadly objects and infection concerns….that’s suppose to be what the condom is for. Basically I’m just trying to say that being kinky and sending me to a doctor’s office for hepatitis shots are two very different things and I just hope that I won’t have to start shaking from fear next time I hook up with a girl. Until then, this is Matt signing off.

Note: No mirrors were hurt during the research for this piece…Tisch students yes, and many of them.

Classless Act

Amid a random bout of wallowing in my own very deep lake of self pity I accidentally came across an article that lifted me out of my depressing malaise with a rocket of anger and disgust. This was an article in the Wall Street Journal (yes I read it from time to time; no it’s not my subscription) entitled “The Right to Dry: A Green Movement Is Roiling America.” I don’t know what it was about this title that led me to stumble upon the article’s words as I usually just pass over the titles looking for anything that might catch my eye. However, I soon learned that some rogue resident of an upstanding, wealthy neighborhood decided on a whim (or perhaps with a demon whispering in her ear) to dry her clothes outside…on a close line! I still vividly remember gasping in shock and horror at the ugliness this must have presented in this innocent community. For those of you that have failed to grasp the obvious significance of this intolerable display of penury I implore you to image this scenario. What if some unsuspecting potential home owner passing by were to catch a glimpse of such a monstrosity as a close line? I tell you that they would revert in horror at the undeniable sign that these million dollar estates were in fact slums reeking of ghetto trash and danger. How could anyone have missed such an obvious consequence of this rash act? Apparently Susan Taylor failed to consider this as she selfishly began to hang her wet clothes upon that ominous line tied to the tall oak in her yard. Additionally, when pushed to explain her seemingly harmless action the owner of the audacious close line calmly explained how it saved power and electricity and in that way was reducing some of the waste that has led to global warming. But what about the millionaires I ask this clearly misguided woman? Well, the esteemed Journal was able to elicit some responses from the victims in this “crime.” Interior Designer and Matt-proclaimed douche bag, Joan Grundeman states that, “this bombards the senses. It can’t possibly increase property values and make people think this is a nice neighborhood.” My God, what if this spreads? Pretty soon people will be confusing the dirty, dangerous, destitute homes of the diseased poverty stricken poor with the multi millionaire fashion enthusiasts and golf club pros. When the clear line between poverty and safety, poor and healthy, ghetto and clean break down then what are we left with? It is these divisions, these class partitions that form the base of what America stands for. Without these we might as well be in Iraq. So for those of you foot soldiers like our dear Joan Grundeman fighting for all of us out there who desperately want the property value of our third home to stay up and want to keep that inner city trash culture out of our neighborhoods and away from our overindulged kids I pray you keep up your noble pursuit. And for those of you shameless enough to actually put up a device that not only saves power, but requires additional labor that you don’t even let your maid do…please take it back if only for freedom. Because we are a free people, but if people are free to dry clothes in this way, then what’s next, will we let our neighbors be seen mowing their own lawns? Please join the good fight by registering against this and similar heinous acts at www.iamadouchebag.com Until then I wish you all the best.

Top 10 Bar Songs

You know the kind, the ones that wake you up from your drunken daze and make you grab the nearest girl and start screaming the lyrics of some classic rock song right in her glazed over face. The ones that make the entire bar start jumping and dancing…and the one that’ll most likely get you laid. If you’ve got a move to make, these songs are your chance to do it.

10. Fix You by Coldplay. Seemingly an odd choice, but if you’ve ever seen You, Me, and Dupree you know why.

9. Paradise City, by Guns N’ Roses. Ever since that scene in Can’t Hardly Wait this song has been getting hot ass for any guy that knows the childishly simple lyrics.

8. You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC. Need I say more, if you can’t get ass to this song that girl’s not drunk enough or you’re just plain hopeless.

7. Stronger by Kanye West. There’s no way you can’t dance to this. It’s the hottest song of the moment.

6. More Than a Feeling by Boston. I’m more of a fan of Foreplay/Longtime but this one is almost as good and a lot shorter which for a bar environment filled with attention handicapped drunks is a definite plus.

5. Hips Don’t Lie by Shakira. Your hips don’t lie and that new stiffness in my jeans is straight up honest lets take it back to my place

4. American Girl by Tom Petty. The opening riff is enough to excite even the coldest of women and open even the most closed of legs.

3. Sweet Child of Mine by Guns N’ Roses. Quite possibly the greatest air guitar song ever made, ever.

2. Living on a Prayer by Bon Jovi. Jersey’s finest, take my hand we'll make it I swear if you do me I'll be living on a prayer.

1. Don’t Stop Believing by Journey. Vintage Journey takes the top spot. It's loud, discernable lyrics and high energy noise are perfect for bringing the party to the next level. It's the ultimate bar classic.

A last time for firsts

In a most likely fruitless attempt to add some consistency to my increasingly hectic life I will try to begin “blogging” a bit more regularly. I’m sure all of you readers out there are thrilled to hear this orgasmic news however I ask you to refrain from pleasuring yourself to my titillating diction for the simple fact that it would freak the shit out of me. However, if you are a woman who fancies herself an attractive and low expecting human being feel free to meet me in person and I can allow you to have your way with me -- my writing I mean -- in person- …with protection, but no tasers or mace please. Anyways, now that the administrative side has been taken care of I am free to tackle the issues of the day once again. Well as some of you may know I am a senior now, and not only that, a senior with only one semester left. Today was a bit of a tough pill to swallow as it was my last first day of classes in my tumultuous academic career. A career that has spanned 15 dissapointing years for my parents. You may not believe it from reading this fragmented and ungrammatical trash but I was once a student that showed much promise only to lose my direction along the way. My time has spanned from the highs of getting all A’s (once in like 6th grade when they put me in remedial classes because they thought I was retarded) to lows of getting suspended for a week ( in fifth grade I put dog shit in a kids lunch box and then lied about it…repeatedly, then got ratted out by that bastard jacobo). I’ve plied my trade in places as foreign and dirty as Mexico City to places as southern and white as Texas, back up to the haven of boredom that is the suburbs of New Jersey and finally into the vibrant and temptation filled New York City. Each stop has been a valuable addition to my shaping as a person and despite having problems with each of these places (some more than others) I have no doubt learned from my time in each of them. If I had to go back, I’d do it all over again…and over again and over again because for the love of God I am not ready for the real world. Not even fuckin close I mean I’m graduating and I gotta tell you I don’t have a fuckin clue. Not that I’m worried about it; I mean I’m cool I’ll be fine. I’m not crying, you’re crying. Pussy. By the way, Brian if you’re reading this I am sorry about that shit in the lunch box prank, I was young and stupid; you can totally take me off that people to kill list…but leave Jacobo on I heard he fucked your sister.

Peace bitches

A Comedy of Dunces

Yet another senator, republican at that, has been caught how shall I say, with his pants down in an embarrassing sex act. Yes, Senator Craig I am referring to your little mishap with airport security. Not to approve whatever his lewd bathroom acts might have been but I am a bit surprised they are operating sex sting operations amid all of the terror scares in our country. Now I’m sure our dear old Christian fanatics would argue that the evils of sodomizers and all homosexual perversions are on an equal par with those godless Muslim jihadists dedicated to destroying our way of life for a much more boring, joyless one that they seem thrilled to live. However, I highly doubt a couple of old men with more stuff hidden in their closets than Paris Hilton has shoes in hers pose as much of a threat to us innocents riding in a highly crashable plane that terrorists do. Again, that’s not to say that I’d enjoy walking into an airport bathroom only to interrupt one man fellating another…then I’d probably have two reasons to be in the bathroom with the other to regurgitate my previous meal. Who knows, maybe terrorism isn’t the impending threat that it once was, maybe the war in Iraq is working, maybe Al Qaeda is disappearing, maybe who knows. I’ve never liked the idea of living in constant fear anyways. One thing’s for sure though, I can’t help but smirk thinking of how pissed those Republicans must be that there is yet another one of them involved in a homosexual sex scandal, those conservatives just can’t seem to get their Christian values right. Hell, they’re probably begging for a heterosexual Clintonesque sex scandal by now, but alas it seems only those liberal, abortion, gay loving democrats do the dirty with those of the opposite sex. Either way it’s an interesting time we live in when I hear on the news that this sex scandal, involving a senator that nobody had ever heard of could affect a presidential election when it’s not clear how any of the candidates (Republican or Democrat) had an ounce to do with this sexually confused senator. I can only imagine the conflict some voters must feel going into the polls now. Little old lady thinking about it, “Well Republicans hold more of my Christian values but…Republicans have also been caught in homosexual sex scandals. Lord please don’t send me to hell if I vote democrat.” Honestly with a nation in the midst of a costly (economic and more importantly in lives) war, floundering economy amid those pesky sub prime mortgages, health care that forgets the poor, and education that apparently forgets everybody I feel like there are plenty more issues to ponder when examining your candidates then whether one from his or her party has been involved in an airport bathroom sex sting. The only thing that is, is funny and I’m laughing already.

Californiawesome

As a writer of sorts (self proclaimed of course) I’ve hit what some might call a hurdle or road block. For any of you that still remember that this little piece of heaven even exists you’ve by now realized it has been quite some time since I’ve left my self destructive thoughts to your amusement. This return to writing is probably inspired by another piece of work that also centers around a failure to produce. The new Showtime show Californication, starring the always entertaining David Duchovny, is a brilliantly engaging show that is neither politically correct nor socially acceptable. In its constant barrage of gorgeous models, their breasts, and the fast paced, filthy dialogue it has completely earned my praise. Duchovny’s character is an unapologetic, honest to a raunchy fault, pussy magnet that is still hopelessly in love with his ex and endearing around his daughter. He plays a writer that achieved fame when one of his books was made into a movie and he is repulsed by the rape that his work suffered in its transformation. One of the funniest scenes revolves around his merciless rant against the writer that destroyed his piece. Without wanting to reveal any of the intriguing plot lines or just flat out hilarious surprises I can assure anyone with a stomach strong enough to hold a conversation about pussy lips, cunnilingus, and pubic hair will be enthralled and pleased with what this show has to offer. It has real substance without sacrificing any entertainment value as I’m just as anxious to find out what direction he will try to go with his life as I am with what his next insult will be to his ex’s fiancé. Thus, I’d just like to conclude that Californication has earned the coveted Matt’s Seal of Approval and may now be watched by the tens of you that have read this blog and hang on every word I write. You are my disciples and I thank you for your courage and strength. Bonus points: It’s not regular HBO, it’s Showtime and as Duchovny so lovingly puts it, I’d say Showtime has totally “dickpunched” HBO with this sure hit.

http://www.sho.com/site/californication/blogbuzz.do

Newsworthy?

Unlike what seems like a large percentage of the population, I am tragically aware of the motives and driving forces behind the news and what makes the final cut on such respectable programs as “Fox Five News at 9.” However, the line, “the People determine what is Newsworthy” certainly has to have its limits. I know the News is driven the same way any entertainment or media production is, by what people are willing to give their attention to, but certainly there must be a line drawn. The reason I say this, what has led me to this realization, is that yesterday as I was innocently flipping through the channels, and then again as I perused some online news sources there was one incredibly meaningless and miniscule story that seemed to be grabbing all the “headlines.” PARIS HILTON BACK IN CUSTODY, PARIS HILTON BREAKS DOWN WANTS MOMMY, PARIS HILTON NEEDS PSYCHOLOGICAL HELP. Here’s some news for you, I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT PARIS HILTON, especially when compared to the much more pertinent and important news and events that are currently transpiring on our FUBAR planet. Now I know this is only adding more attention to this media hungry publicity whore who apparently can’t afford to take a DUI class or stop drinking and driving, however I feel there comes a time where the news stations have to take the power away from the people to an extent and make conscious decisions on what we need to be worrying about as Americans and as citizens of our increasingly ravaged planet. I mean this is the same public that elected George W. Bush not once but twice to the most powerful and formerly most respectable position on Earth. Is it really wise to think they have the collective mental capacity to decide what’s newsworthy, especially when they’re picking some rich socialite incarceration breakdown over wars in Iraq, floods in China, starvation in Africa, and a plethora of other extremely concerning stories. Maybe it’s that the American Public wants to ignore these stories, they’re far off, depressing, real. America seems to be consumed by Hollywood; its fantasy on and off the screen is a constant soap opera documented by paparazzi and soulless celebrity magazines. This is not the public’s fault alone that they are entranced by these flashing lights, they’re focus has been robbed from them. However in that same manner I feel the focus needs another shift. A shift to issues that may not be easy to have on our minds and may weigh us down a little more, but they are issues that, unlike Paris Hilton’s jail time, are grave in consequence and short on resolution. A knowledgeable public would make a more intelligent and savvy America and as a world leader it should be our responsibility to know about the happenings of the world, and not just our own fantasy land of celebrities and gossip.

Girls You Could Hook Up With on a Drunken Night

I've hooked up with a lot of different types of girls in my time in New York and through these experiences I'd like to enlighten the rest of you on some very likely outcomes from a drunken night of debauchery and your insistence on hooking up with the first girl possible...or at least my insistence. So without further ado here are my 7 types:

1. The Free Spirit- This lively girl with an untamed passion for excitement is always looking for a good time, but don’t be fooled, despite the tender kisses on the forehead she’s not into you and will be long gone come morning time. Don’t expect a phone number either, shes not looking to get attached.

2. The Virgin – She’ll laugh at all your jokes especially the ones that aren’t funny, she’ll also talk about how much fun you’re having. Be aware though, as soon as you go in for that first kiss she’ll grab your balls and tell you she’s never been with a man that way. If you’re not looking for commitment I suggest you run home and rub one out instead of risking the very messy relationship issues she’s bound to bring up. Bonus Points- Questions like: “What are we?” on the first night are a dead giveaway.

3. The Tease – Those lustful eyes are deceptive, they may scream sex but all she’s willing to do is have a 7th grade style make out session. Watch out for lines like, “I just don’t think it’s the right time,” or even better, “If I have sex with you then I have to have sex with everybody.” My suggestion is go find a whore on the side, also watch out there’s probably a reason she won’t go all the way…notably a venereal disease…or worse a cock.

4. The Clinger – You have one random hook up at an open bar while you’re out of your mind drunk, next thing you know she’s facebook friended you, sent you a message, looked up your screen name, and asked you to meet her family. It’s a hard fall from grace…and her family won’t like you, especially when you can’t even remember her name.

5. The Older Woman – So you’re out with your college buddies at some local bar and then some lady offers to buy YOU a drink. Hell yea you think. Fuck your pride take the free drink. Next thing you know this woman is dominating you in ways you didn’t know you were vulnerable to, at least until her hip gives out. She’ll call you sweet and adorable and probably says that you remind her of her grandchildren. She’ll also give you the best head you’ve ever had, those removable teeth are key. Watch out though, these aging vixens are insatiable and don’t understand your need for freedom…or classes (although they may offer to bring you to school the next morning). Just a tip: Look out for the engagement or wedding ring to know how deep in shit you are.

6. The Younger Girl – So you’re out with your college buddies at some local bar getting shitfaced. Next thing you know you see 3 really cute girls walk in, I mean they look young but they got into a bar so legally they should at least be 21. You avoid asking them just so you don’t have to be conscious of the fact that you’re hitting on 16 year olds. If the girl can’t stop talking about how cool it is to be in a bar…or her 5th period algebra class you’ve bagged yourself an underage chick. Be careful with this situation because lawsuits and psycho clingy high schoolers are a definite drain on your future.

7. The Relative – Yea you think she looks familiar but in your inebriated haze you go for it anyways. So you have the same last name and she reminds you a lot of your younger sister, lots of people have the same last name and look like your sister…Oh God, Oh God what have you done…who have you done? Just don’t tell Dad. Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase “Coming into your own.”

Disclaimer: This post is entirely fiction and not based on any actual person or event. Any similarities to any real persons or events is purely coincidence...that is unless I know you and have hooked up with you while drunk in which case it's probably based on you.

This Trip was Awesome Until You and Your Bros Decided to "Bro Out"

"Bro did you see when that girl laughed after I whiffed the volleyball, I totally wanted to punch her in the fucking face bro."
In between their high fives, binge drinking, and latent homosexual behavior bro culture has begun infecting foreign nations with their obnoxious, testosterone fueled stupidity. Relaxing on a gorgeous beach in the Dominican Republic serenely enjoying the sound fo the ocean and the refreshing breeze was thrown to hell after a group of six "bros" decided to start yelling at each other about how "totally drunk they were" pausing only to comment on "that fucking bitch that walked off." I can only stipulate that after this girl walked out they released their pent up sexual frustration through some homosexual frat ritual.
Listen "Bro" I don't care way you do deep down in the soggy, vomit filled layers of your frat house but when I leave America to go and absorb the culture and environment of a new and DIFFERENT country I'd appreciate you not imposing your unbearably annoying and forced macho attitude on my relaxing beach sessions. Having to deal with your "bro outs" in America is one thing but I find it completely intolerable to be subjected to them in a place that I thought was untainted by your ridiculous acts. So take off those lame ass shades that you and all your "bros" insist on wearing, stop constantly flexing, and for the love of God stop having incredibly inappropriate and intentionally loud conversations because despite what you may think no one believes you're cool from hearing them and probably wants to punch you and your bros in "the fucking face."

The dreaded Job Search

There may not be a more degrading or stressful experience than the job search. Men and woman will shamelessly throw themselves at potential employers like drunk girls at Mardi Gras and that interviewer has plenty of beads. I'm at a point of my life where I'm beginning my first real job search. You know the kind, the ones with the resumes, the cover letters, the suits, the interviewers with the tough questions, and you with all the wrong answers. I've come to the conclusion that in these job searches it stops being acceptable to be yourself. Sure they tell you to show your "better qualities" and "express yourself" but what you're really suppose to do is be like everyone else. I swear to God I do not believe that 95% of the people looking for jobs believe that their greatest " weakness" is that they "work too hard" or are "too competetive." This type of meaningless bullshit makes me want to throw up all over the suit that I'm wearing for only the second time in my life. Unfortunately it seems as though the most high profile jobs require a soulless ability to bullshit your way into and out of anything. It's too bad our own president wasn't well versed on this skill. Imagine the difference if he could back up his policies in Iraq with lines like "I'm a tireless worker that pays attention to detail and have no doubt I can resovle this conflict as soon as physically possible" instead of stuttering around a microphone looking for the slightest hint of a friendly face and hesitantly asking people for support of yet anouther influx of troops into the political black hole that is Iraq. But, alas, I've digressed from my point the godlessness of a job search. The stress inflicted upon an individual having to dance around like a circus act trying to impress anyone he can persuade to listen is only less than the stress sufferred by someone who puts himself through these disgraceful dances and returns empty handed knowing that he sold his soul for nothing in return. As I write this I am packing up my own soul into a delightful gift basket and preparing to send it out along with my resume and cover letters. If anyone reading this has available summer internships in New York please hire me. I'm a motivated, dedicated, hard working, positive, dependable, responsible, smart, confident, driven, excited, and high pressure performer who will serve you well. Thank you for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,
Matt

ps. I'm serious about that hiring shit, I need a job...you can visit my website at www.mattneedsajob.org

The Worst Valentine’s Day Ever

That’s right it’s February and you know what that means, Valentine’s Day! All those cute couples will be planning their dates as girls look forward to bragging to their friends about how completely romantic “Todd,” or whatever the hell his name might be, is. Guys will be looking to find the ultimate gift or create the most ideal date for their significant others in yet another attempt at getting as much sex as possible. Men usually don’t care too much about the “spirit” of Valentine’s Day, but they do care about not pissing off their girlfriend/ wife/ girl on the side/ hopeful sex partner. So here are a few tips on what NOT to get for that special someone.

Top 12 Worst Valentine’s Gifts

1. Gym Membership, I don’t think they’ll “get it”
2. Treadmill, they definitely won’t “get it”
3. The NFL channel (or any sports channel), so obviously for you
4. Animal Porn…or really any sort of porn
5. Electric Razor, there are more subtle ways of telling her she needs to shave
6. Plastic surgery, ok that’s just mean
7. Breast Implants, valiant effort but I don’t think she’ll see where you’re coming from.
8. The Right to Vote, once they have a say it’ll all be downhill
9. Syphilis, if she knows you have it she might break up with you
10. A reason to live, you can’t have her hanging around you any longer than necessary
11. A homemade necklace, you’re not 7 years old anymore get her the real thing.
12. A break up note, seriously you can’t just wait one more day?

Good Luck with your women and I hope you all have a wonderful Valentine's Day

Yes Mr. Hemingway I would love to have a drink with you.

I recently finished reading the splendid Ernest Hemingway novel, The Sun Also Rises. It is a great narrative that transports you into a cloudy, inebriated wonderland without responsibility and purpose. I was instantly reminded of my own time in Spain. The short, quick paced sentences blurred by me as I felt more like I was living the book than reading it. This Hemingway character would impress even a frat keg-stand champion with his incessant drinking at all hours of the day and night. I wonder if sobriety is something any of the characters in the book are even familiar with. Each scene revolves around ordering drink after drink and then moving to another place where they will order more drinks and get, “tight” as it is called in the book. Now I don’t know much about American literature or famous writers but I’ll tell you one thing: I wanna party with this guy. I’d actually like to see a bar menu containing every drink served in The Sun Also Rises. I have no doubt it could fill several pages. Of course there would the “Hemingway Special” a dangerous concoction of whiskey, soda, and the blood of a Spanish Bull. The great thing about the book was that it always put me in the mood to just go out and get shitfaced for no apparent reason other than to be cultured in some dark bar and engage in pretentious conversation with other socialites that haven’t a care in the world. I can do that because this is America, and in America we don’t care about your problems. A homeless man once told me how this country, and perhaps even this world operates. He said, “every person lives by one code: I got mine, now go fuck yourself.” I haven’t seen him since, but I believe he may be one of the must underrated thinkers of our time. But back to the Hemingway fellow. The reason I started reading the book was a selfish purpose as I had been told it was this novel that made the festival of San Fermines in Pamplona famous. For those of you that don’t know shit about Spain, or that festival, it is the place where they have the “Running with the bulls.” Now I know what you’re asking yourself. Did you, oh daring and courageous Matt, run with the bulls during your time in Spain? And my immediate response is: Youre goddamn right I ran with the bulls! I’m a man of principle, and one of the most important principles I have is: Thou Shalt Run With the Bulls while in Pamplona. Count it. Thus, in summary 1)Hemingway is a delightful read if you have any capacity to appreciate a different culture, 2) Drinking all the time might be expensive but damnit it seems like a lot of fun, and 3) I ran with the bulls. If you can come away with those three things, I’ll feel I’ve done my job.

Legal Notice: I am not responsible for anyone that is inspired to run with the bulls due to the influence of this piece, nor can I be held liable for any injury incurred during said event.

The Battle of Printer Station 7: Last Stand

I know, I know, it's been a long time and I've been dearly missed. Spare me the façade of concern. The important thing is that I'm back to knock you off your feet with decadent, ungrammatical pleasure. There are some things, very small insignificant things which I'm sure will end up shortening my life span by vast amounts if not killing me outright in the moment. Some of these things, like alcohol abuse, subway train hopping, and knife fighting are pretty obvious in their dangers. However, today I encountered an entirely different threat to my life. This hideous, Satan worshipping beast came in the form of a comfortably overweight asian girl wearing what I'm sure she believed were fashionable glasses and a stare that left no doubt to her absolute unconcern for others. The stage was set in the busy Stern Computer Lab located underground where the Stern students dwell and lost College of Arts and Sciences students like myself accidentally wander into. I arrived confident in the simplicity of my mission, to print out a practice test for my midterm tomorrow. A mission so easy I could not see an obstacle in my path. I'm a man of a modest background so it is rare for me to be caught by overconfidence, but this life-ending succubus had other plans for me. As I pulled up my files at my work station I was still tragically oblivious to the plot against me. After I had ordered my computer to print the appropriate files I walked up to the printer with all of the social confidence that only a CAS student like myself could have and a Stern student could only imagine having. There was a slight crowd of two or three people surrounding the printer, but nothing out of the ordinary. I was calm, I actually laughed to myself about the nervous twitches of the others around me. To my dismay, I soon realized what it was that was disturbing them so. It was then that I laid eyes on the sinister being. She evoked a vile aura of wretchedness as the printer strained under her cruel whip. I stood there for ten minutes, confidence draining from me each time I looked at her and saw the darkness of her soul. The only thing being expelled by the printer was her dark work: pages upon pages, dozens of pages, pages with pictures, pages that looked like they had been copied from a book, shaded pages, dark pages, text pages, colored pages. Where would the madness stop?! I began to feel faint so I removed myself from the situation with a bit of self-control and decided to just wait it out. After idling at my work station for another 6 minutes I returned to the printer. Surely she must be done by now. The sight I saw was horrifying and I gasped in terror. She hadn't moved! I doubt she had even blinked; she still stood in that same casual, lack of concern for others air about her, selfishly hoisting her dirty work in reams of paper. It was then that I realized that there was not one shred of good in her and she truly was fallen. I looked around, I was not the only one being marred by her insidious acts. There were now at least seven onlookers all intently staring at this whorish fiend, their eyes pleading with her, asking how anyone could take part in such a despicable act. As she rested against the wall taking a break from collecting her unending pages I thought of repeatedly slamming her head into the wall and staring in her soulless eyes to send her back to the hell from whence she came. Instead, I decided to go sit down again. Ten minutes later I collected my things and returned one last time to the printer. I had not been wrong, she truly was a spawn of the underworld as she still stood there collecting her third copy of her 200th page with that same lifeless stare. It was a stare that reminded me of a shark, or of a doll. I walked away, without the 4 pages of text I had come to print… the beast had won. She's probably still there now, as you read this, preventing all from finishing their work.

Sorkinitis

Sorkinitis:
A frightening name for a frightening condition. The cause: fast paced, speed talking, dialogue packed shows, movies, or plays written by the infamous Aaron Sorkin. His reckless writing style has been irresponsibly left available for the public and its devastating effects are only now becoming apparent. People are especially susceptible to being infected by Sorkinitis during or immediately after coming in contact with any of his work. Some common symptoms include uncontrollable speaking at speeds with which the mind cannot compete, using words that a) don't make sense, b) you don't know the meaning of, or in the worst cases c) aren't even words. Victims also have staggering tendencies to become stuck in "talk and walks", a characteristic of Sorkin's work in which apparently characters (usually two but in severe cases even more) simply talk and walk together at the same time. Although this appeared to be revolutionary upon its introduction into the media it is now clear that our minds were not meant for such complex actions. In the interest of full disclosure, your author must admit that I was once suckered into watching one of Sorkin's shows, however I suffered severe Sorkinitis and at one point even thought I was witty enough to carry on relentless, pause free conversation for more than 10 minutes, however, after 6 and half of those minutes I blacked out and woke up 2 days later in a different country with a warrant for my arrest. Not only can Sorkinitis have a vicious effect on its victims, it is also damaging for the lives of those close to the victims, or second hand Sorkinitis. The author's roommate has been suffering from Sorkinitis since it was first observed shortly after the release of the film A Few Good Men, starring Tom Cruise pre scientology brain wash. Because of his affliction he is prone to bouts of dizziness and often sits alone in his room rewatching clips of various Sorkin productions, constantly trying to live his life to the inhumane pace of these works and the brilliant characters therein. Its nearly impossible for him to have a normal conversation with anyone as he loses them after two lines and then pulls a Rain Man and goes off into his own world playing back one liners to an imaginary character as he walks back and forth across his apartment--the most serious case of all: a one man walk and talk. It is profoundly disturbing. Now I know what you must be wondering, is there a cure? Well the good news is that the answer is yes. There are a shockingly high amount of dumbed down shows and movies available that can easily combat the effects of Sorkinitis by slowing down or in some happy cases (Daredevil) completely halt the mental activity that is uncontrollably sped up by watching Sorkin's work. Because I have studied this disease extensively I am actually capable of offering a broad prescription for anyone that might be suffering the effects of Sorkinitis.

For mild cases: Watching two consecutive episodes of Bones or One Tree Hill should completely offset any mild symptoms.

For moderate cases: Rocky V and VI consecutively, plus at least 30 minutes of Battlefield Earth…exceeding this dosage may cause rapid reductions in brain actvity and subjects run the risk of suffering from either retardation or scientology. Researchers are still unsure as to which carries graver consequences.

For SEVERE cases only: This is a strenuous and rigorous program that must be followed precisely to survive a severe case of Sorkinitis. It is not reccomended for mild cases.First begin with the movies From Justin to Kelly and then You Got Served. Follow this with an entire season of Baywatch, with Charmed as a possible substitute. Finally after this you must watch the movie Daredevil, not one but two times. If Sorkinitis persists begin a steady regimen of blows to the cranium with blunt object until brain dead or complete reversal of symptoms.

Liver failure is so yesterday

Any random friend: Hey, you wanna get drunk tonight?
Me: Yea, why not.

This was a typical conversation from my first two years of college and I feel that my change since then can be summed up in the change that has taken place in that conversation this year.

Any random friend: Hey, you wanna get drunk tonight?
Me: Why?

These two conversations are in themselves a microcosm of my college experience. Upon first arriving here I encountered a wondrous land of cheap available alcohol and many others who like me were just here to have a good time. Classes will come and go we thought, the good times though, they last forever. What I’ve been learning though is that apparently so does your GPA. Now I don’t have a bad GPA per se, but it is significantly lower than it would be if I had responded to that common question the way I do now. Back in the day, meaning freshman and sophomore year, drinking was an end in itself, you know the usual: get plastered and then see where the inebriation takes you. Over the years its taken me to some pretty amazing places…at least they seemed that way in my drunken state though looking back I’m not quite sure how amazing wandering around the business district at 4 in the morning and finding a “totally awesome beer pong table” and then carrying it through the subway and sneaking it into a dorm really was. The point however, is not whether or not I regret the times I had ( I don’t…well maybe not completely) but that I’m beginning to see a change in myself. Call it old age, call it maturity, call it being sick of throwing up in random places, the fact is I no longer have that same insatiable drive to just get completely shitfaced for no apparent reason. I’m also discovering that I lack the recovery ability of my youth, I used to wake up like being hung over was my job and by five in the afternoon I was ready to get hammered again. Now I get drunk and I lay in bed all day dreading night fall and being pressured to go out again. Is this a change for the better? Only time will tell, but unlike last years finals I don’t think I’m gonna be getting drunk throughout the week of exams this year. Bob Dylan once said, “The times they are a changing” I don’t what that means but I feel like it applies here and I sincerely hope whatever it is, you find what you’re looking for.

What Women Want

“A guy should know what I want and if he doesn’t I know he’s not the guy for me and I’m not interested.” This was the genuine statement of a girl when talking about her love interests. I feel this goes along with my earlier post regarding the double X chromosome and just lends proof to my belief that women refuse to think logically or reasonably. For all of you women out there holding onto this idea let me help you out with why your relationships probably haven’t worked…men don’t read minds and for the most part probably don’t get you. First of all you’re women and as Jack Nicholson famously put it in As Good As It Gets, you live without reason and accountability. Men on the other hand live their lives based on this and sorry to say are incapable of lowering themselves to your level. Life isn’t a fairy tale, or a movie and yea we might get it right every now and then by pure chance but we can’t read your mind, so acting in direct opposition to what you actually want thinking that men are going to magically know that you want the opposite because if he’s the right guy for you he’ll know is a preposterous idea. Relationships work based on communication and expressing one’s feelings, not by playing mind games and hocus pocus. Now don’t get me wrong I’m not saying all women do this, that would be a generalization and sexist and that would get way too many people hating me. I like to avoid hatred as much as possible so lets just go ahead and say I think women are really swell but that some of them lack an ability to recognize reality because they’ve seen too many damn Disney and teen date movies. So now that I’ve taken some of the blame directly off of the women I’m gonna go right for the source. Date movies. These ridiculous fairy tales have been killing guys game for years, besides the times that you have to sit through one with a girl to get any action they just serve to push unrealistic expectations on us from girls. All these feminists get so upset about havin to match expectations that models present and the perfect body, well im fuckin pissed about havin to match expectations from some stupid Freddie Prinz Jr. sappy teen love story. I’m fed up and pissed off and now women are sayin things like the quote from above, well its time we do something about it and I’m gonna start as soon as I finish ordering flowers and taking a girl on a romantic date that includes a horse pulled carriage ride through central park…so I caved, but if I have to give in to get some I’ll do what I gotta do. But this is the last time, and I’m tryin to spread this message to any man or woman that cares to listen.

ps. I will be having a charity event to create awareness for this problem. So when you have to decide between giving money to a charity for world hunger or Darfur remember which one have you been affected by. When you go to the polls vote intermittent comedy and well get you laid (if youre a guy)

Inside Joke

Some guy: “Yo I totally ate that sandwich!”
Some other guy: “NO WAY! Hahahaha”
Me: I don’t get it, whats so funny?
Some guys: “Don’t worry about it man its an inside joke hahaha”
Me:…

Listen you pompous, meathead assholes that think youre so damn hilarious with your inside jokes probably centering on the girl you “banged” last night, if it’s an inside joke how come the entire room has to hear your juvenile reenactment of some retarded story only to be left out of some stupid punchline. The story’s public from your obnoxious and clearly intentional overheard conversation so everyone around you can know that you, “totally ate that sandwich.” Now I’m not trying to “drop guilt juice on you” another ludicrous phrase that I once heard bellowed in the midst of one of my chance encounters with a study lounge. But seriously, shut the fuck up, I don’t give a damn about your inside jokes, but if you’re gonna make me hear your whole story at least give me the satisfaction of knowing what you find so incredibly funny; if at least to give me more fuel to make fun of you with. Don’t get me wrong, inside jokes are an inevitable part of friendship as things will be understood only by those who are familiar with it, but don’t make it a point to let everyone know that you’re engaged in an inside joke especially to just make you feel cool. Believe me doing this only proves how far from cool you are. However, just go on giving your “HIGH FIVES!” every time you say something basically equating to banging and leaving a girl or making fun of a girl, or making fun of a guy that doesn’t like girls, I’m sure you’ll find some mildly retarded audience somewhere that enjoys your stories and idolizes you so much that they hope one day to be on the inside of those jokes. Just remember, you’re the joke.

Top 13 Reasons to go to War with North Korea

1. Maybe we'll find oil.
2. Preventing Kim Jong Il from ever wearing those lame ass sunglasses again.
3. Pussy democrats won't be able to whine about not finding any weapons of mass destruction.
4. They're God hating communists that haven't seen the light of Christ or an A bomb...boo-ya.
5. My ex girlfriend was Korean and she totally dumped me...that bitch.
6. To support our troops.
7. Pearl Harbor.
8. Dick Cheney likes hunting in the far east.
9. Real World: Pyongyang this time the tension's nuclear...MTV fall 07
10. It'll distract from the huge failure of Iraq.
11. They're poor.
12. The war in Iraq is so last year.
13. To protect our borders.

A comedy of the double X chromosome

Women, they are fuckin hilarious. They’ve managed to master an art of unreasonability and illogical thinking all the while making men feel bad about the decisions they make that involve rationality. What impresses me is not the lack of reason that goes into a woman’s thinking process, that much has been obvious for quite some time, but how they almost always manage to make us (men) feel bad about whatever it is that we’ve done. My mother has always been and still is a master of this technique using such subtle attacks as “stop attacking me,” “I wasn’t yelling,” and of course my favorite “I’m not angry I’m just disappointed.” These ridiculous phrases are the things that infuriate me and usually drive me to doing something I actually end up feeling sorry for. Women lure you in with these traps, of course I’ve had a bit more experience with this than with just my mother but she is the one that comes to mind most clearly. However, this has also been a problem with girls that I have been how shall I say, intimately involved with. There are a few that I think actually get off to this kind of idiotic argument/conversation. You say what you think is a harmless phrase, next thing you know you’re being called insensitive and cruel when you thought you were just asking a question this girl is trying to guilt trip you into apologizing till you admit that men are inherently evil creatures. Well my friends out there, don’t give into this game, we’ve got to fight back, that’s why I say never apologize to women. It is imperative that we learn to use their own tricks against them…even if it makes us seem gay. Now I know what you’re thinking…unless youre already gay, in which case you’re ahead of the game, but if you’re not you’ve got to understand that this is what women do to gain the power in a conversation, relationship, argument ect. As soon as you apologize you are by default admitting that you are the guilty one, you were wrong and thus everything they said was right. What kind of evil is this that won’t even let us be right? I implore those of you as men to stand up for our sense of reason and accountability and take a stand against this feminine nonsense, a conversation is a conversation and if you’re gonna cry because I’m so obviously right and you can’t take being wrong tough. Learn to live with it, cause I’m gonna be right a lot more than you can admit to your already microscopic self esteem.

Note: if you are a woman I’m just gonna go ahead and apologize in advance, I didn’t mean what I said and I think you look lovely today…new haircut?
2nd Note: if you are a man I’m just sayin sorry so I can still get ass from women, as a man you can understand that…but continue to fight the woman
3rd Note: if you are my mother I love you and I’m sorry…plus I really need my laundry done, im startin to run out of clothes.

Dear Diary,

Due to a request from a former acquaintance I will be taking this blog in a bit of a different direction with this post. This will be a stark change from the usual insulting, juvenile humor and will instead be a touching, sincere account of someone that has been a big influence in my life.
This particular person happened to be a former Resident Advisor of mine during my sophomore year of school. What I remember the most about her is not whether or not she had a life crippling drinking problem (she did), and not whether or not she hung out with self loathing, closet crying hipsters (she did that too), but that for some reason she was very entertaining to talk to. This is probably because she was one of the few people that laughed at my jokes, and I gotta tell you having someone think your funny is probably one of the greatest feelings in the world…aside from screwing your boss’s wife in your boss’s bed which is also particularly pleasurable. I didn’t talk to this person for most of the summer following that year and upon my return I discovered that she had run away to Korea. Now she often whined to me about wanting to find some nice asian guy to bring home to her parents or some shit, but I never thought shed go all the way to the Far East to find one, I figured Chinatown was good enough and that was why she kept living there. Apparently I greatly underestimated her need for real asian men. Now that shes in Korea I’ve found it immensely easier to avoid her while walking through the park, aside from that I do miss the occasional dinner she was able to get me and my friends as well as the meal plans after I’d run out. But the bottom line is I’m writing from the heart and my heart tells me that I’m hungry, no that’s the stomach, oh that’s right my heart tells me that you should hold on to people that make you feel good about yourself, because as I can attest I’ve got a number of friends but most of them only serve to pummel my already disappearing self esteem. Anyways this is a person that meant something to me in the time that I knew her. Now she’s just a shadow from my alcoholic corrupted past, but I hope wherever she is, she’s laughing at this post making me feel better about myself.