I just met 3 guys named Dick in a row. What are the odds? Turns out that the real world is much more batshit insane than what we muster to put on tv. Except for Michael Bay. Fuck that guy. Seriously, the laws of physics do not allow for shit to explode everywhere in an american-flag shape every time we blink. Anyhow, appearently biology is a field full of bizarre findings and facts. For example, I found out that Australia is God's way of saying "Here, I just found out all these potentially world-ending species and placed them all in one place. Neat huh?". Appearently you can't take a dump in there without fearing some jumping spiders leaping the hell out of the toilet into your bare ass or some triple headed snake eating your firstborn while you do so. Or whatever it is that Australians fear.
Of course, my favorite bizarre location is still Japan. From half-functioning giant mechas powered by forsaken children and crabs big enough to immobilize a Volkswagen Scarab, it is no wonder why so much fucked up sexual and social paraphernalia sprouts out from such a reduced number of little yet incredibly weird island to traumatize us beyond recognition. Sounds like the materialization of 4chan to me!
martes, 7 de junio de 2011
lunes, 16 de mayo de 2011
Episode V : The Mid-Terms Strike Back
And holy fudge, do they strike like the fist of an angry God.
Oh yeah I'll be taking down the cussing since Shaun made me promise I'd change my gamerspeach. Namely "F**K THAT *F***ING S**T TO F***ING HELL! YOU JUST SNIPED ME!HOLY ****** **** ****** SITTING IN A ******** **** ********* CHERRY COKE UP THE *** ********* ***** ******** MICHAEL KEATON!" and such. So yeah, I think I'll need a book of euphemism because oh God, will I need it.
Anyways, after coming back from the massacre known as 'College Mid Terms', the classroom looks emptier than ever. Which leads me to believe that either nobody cares about actually assisting after exams in order to take a break or that half the room commited suicide after realizing that college exams are not the ones you can BS your way through. The stuff you study in a half-hearted way in 20 minutes, teacher has studied for 20 years. So good luck with that. Turns out the only way to pass is to -GASP!- study and pay attention. Since I don't study ever -unless I happen to fall in love with the subject- I settled down for paying attention, which had FINALLY earned me a whooping bonus that allows my monthly fee to be lowered down. More money to the Battle Platypus Army I'm working on!
So I decided to buckle up and finish the mountain of epic homework and projects that were due for next month. Took me 2 entire weeks of dreamlessness. And sorrow. And coffee. And those spicy chips everybody eats to replace natural nourishment. And my God, I need a shave. After all that shizzle, I was finally done and decided to download -Problem, FBI?- some DS videogames to quench my thirst for digital stimuli. Surely enough, I ended up playing such jewels as 'Megaman Zero Collection', '999 : 9 Persons, 9 Hours, 9 Doors' and others. Which I don't remember due to the lack of sleep that day. That was Hardcore Gaming day. Next morning was Hungover Without Even Getting Out Of The House day.
So in short, the Mid Terms slaughtered half of the classroom and made some of them ragequit college at the revelation that "Oh snap! You've gotta actually DO stuff to pass?!". Well, I'd normally be relieved about lazybutts and idiots leaving but most of them had girlfriends OR were girls themselves. So with a whooping total of 27 males and 8 women ( securely voluntarily isolated in the left upper corner of the room ), the place has turned into a bigger sausagefest than Super Smash Bros tournaments.
I'll be updating on the upcomings of the week. If you need me, lit the signal in the sky. It's the one shaped like a giant pecker.
I love birds.
Oh yeah I'll be taking down the cussing since Shaun made me promise I'd change my gamerspeach. Namely "F**K THAT *F***ING S**T TO F***ING HELL! YOU JUST SNIPED ME!HOLY ****** **** ****** SITTING IN A ******** **** ********* CHERRY COKE UP THE *** ********* ***** ******** MICHAEL KEATON!" and such. So yeah, I think I'll need a book of euphemism because oh God, will I need it.
Anyways, after coming back from the massacre known as 'College Mid Terms', the classroom looks emptier than ever. Which leads me to believe that either nobody cares about actually assisting after exams in order to take a break or that half the room commited suicide after realizing that college exams are not the ones you can BS your way through. The stuff you study in a half-hearted way in 20 minutes, teacher has studied for 20 years. So good luck with that. Turns out the only way to pass is to -GASP!- study and pay attention. Since I don't study ever -unless I happen to fall in love with the subject- I settled down for paying attention, which had FINALLY earned me a whooping bonus that allows my monthly fee to be lowered down. More money to the Battle Platypus Army I'm working on!
So I decided to buckle up and finish the mountain of epic homework and projects that were due for next month. Took me 2 entire weeks of dreamlessness. And sorrow. And coffee. And those spicy chips everybody eats to replace natural nourishment. And my God, I need a shave. After all that shizzle, I was finally done and decided to download -Problem, FBI?- some DS videogames to quench my thirst for digital stimuli. Surely enough, I ended up playing such jewels as 'Megaman Zero Collection', '999 : 9 Persons, 9 Hours, 9 Doors' and others. Which I don't remember due to the lack of sleep that day. That was Hardcore Gaming day. Next morning was Hungover Without Even Getting Out Of The House day.
So in short, the Mid Terms slaughtered half of the classroom and made some of them ragequit college at the revelation that "Oh snap! You've gotta actually DO stuff to pass?!". Well, I'd normally be relieved about lazybutts and idiots leaving but most of them had girlfriends OR were girls themselves. So with a whooping total of 27 males and 8 women ( securely voluntarily isolated in the left upper corner of the room ), the place has turned into a bigger sausagefest than Super Smash Bros tournaments.
I'll be updating on the upcomings of the week. If you need me, lit the signal in the sky. It's the one shaped like a giant pecker.
I love birds.
martes, 3 de mayo de 2011
So Osama is dead...
What the fuck am I supposed to do now? I mean, saving up for the JD-Mobile, the JD-Cave, JD-Computer and the JD-Suit has been hard enough. I was looking forward to start my own manhunt for the scoundrel and now he's gone. My nemesis-to-be. Not trying to sound sarcastic but yeah, shooting an unarmed bearded dude. Way to go marines. Sure, the man blew up people like a hardcore GTA gamer but I'd at least put on a nice soundtrack while doing the deed. Hell, I'd even give him a rapier and demand a shirtless duel on top of a skyscraper ( Soundtrack still playing ).
For the death of one of the most evil masterminds of our time, I gotta say I find it quite anti-climactic. Like the kid who finds out that Santa Claus is really uncle Larry with a rental suit. Don't get me wrong, I'm in NO way implying I sympathize or even pity the man. If anything, I'd draw a dong on his tombstone. But dude, he was gone just like...that. No witty banter exchange with the USA President, no Pre Mortem one-liner, no duel to the death, no mano a mano, no Michael Bay explosions, no NOTHING.
Just "Oh hi what's u-"*BANG*
Dead.
Really Ossie, at this point I'd at least expect your base to start a countdown to self-destruction upon your death. You've been in the "Kill people to decide who has the best imaginary friend" business for YEARS only to be taken by surprise and kick the bucket. You KNOW what planning is. You've been planning your attacks for YEARS, sittin on a leather chair, caressing a cat ( Or baby camel, I don't know how you guys do it there ) and looking all suave with that beard. America FEARED you. America. The world's spoiled fratboy. That's like a Football Quarterback getting shivers at the mention of the Janitor. And now you die. Just like that. No final battle. No struggle.
What a letdown. Whelp, enjoy your stay in muslim hell, where you'll probably be subjected to every single fucked-up fetish the japanese have invented.
Let's face it, you deserve it. Cheerios.
For the death of one of the most evil masterminds of our time, I gotta say I find it quite anti-climactic. Like the kid who finds out that Santa Claus is really uncle Larry with a rental suit. Don't get me wrong, I'm in NO way implying I sympathize or even pity the man. If anything, I'd draw a dong on his tombstone. But dude, he was gone just like...that. No witty banter exchange with the USA President, no Pre Mortem one-liner, no duel to the death, no mano a mano, no Michael Bay explosions, no NOTHING.
Just "Oh hi what's u-"*BANG*
Dead.
Really Ossie, at this point I'd at least expect your base to start a countdown to self-destruction upon your death. You've been in the "Kill people to decide who has the best imaginary friend" business for YEARS only to be taken by surprise and kick the bucket. You KNOW what planning is. You've been planning your attacks for YEARS, sittin on a leather chair, caressing a cat ( Or baby camel, I don't know how you guys do it there ) and looking all suave with that beard. America FEARED you. America. The world's spoiled fratboy. That's like a Football Quarterback getting shivers at the mention of the Janitor. And now you die. Just like that. No final battle. No struggle.
What a letdown. Whelp, enjoy your stay in muslim hell, where you'll probably be subjected to every single fucked-up fetish the japanese have invented.
Let's face it, you deserve it. Cheerios.
miércoles, 20 de abril de 2011
In victory, mercifulness. In defeat, defiance. In my case, introspection.
I had long since forgotten what my blood tasted like. Metal. Coppery. Not sweet, not salty. Metallic. The thoughts I had as a child suddenly re-emerged like bubbles, about how maybe, just maybe, I had managed to become a little less than a human being. Turning my blood into metal.
Of course then I found out about plasma, chemicals in the blood and all that boring stuff they shove in your head in 4th grade. But the thought had remained dormant, unbeknownst to me. It had remained there, not growing or sprouting, but always present.
Let's rewind back to the day I decided to do a contact sport. I was anxious. Impatient. I wanted to vent out so much energy, both negative and positive. I was happy because I'd get a chance to make Father and Mother proud of me in a field that I had never quite mastered : Physique.
I've never been an Arnold Scharzenneger, or Jabba the Hut. But I never quite mastered the physical peak that my brother, my older brother whom my father prided himself long ago, had mastered. I grew up gradually realizing that I turned out to be an almost exact of opposite of my father. At age 9 he was kissing his second girlfriend. At age 9 I was reading The Count Of Montecristo in Math class. At age 11, he was the spotlightof every party in his school, winning girls and causing male envy. At age 11, I was the quiet and kinda weird kid sitting at the back of the classroom drawing Megaman X. At age 12 he lost his virginity. At age 12, I discovered the internet ( which is much more of a trauma so up YOURS, dad ) .
And so on, Ad Infinitum.
My brother had taken every single thing my father did and took it up to eleven. I'm not gonna go into details, but at age 14 he was scoring threesomes and appearing in magazines so there's that. But I differentiated from both my Father and brother in the fact that my mind woke up earlier. He started to get amazed at my straight A's in 5th grade, and that sort of gave me a hope spot. Finally, a field I could conquer. A virgin land, where the shadow of my father, nor my brother reached. And thus, the start of my quest for intellectual fulfillment started.
Today, a couple of hours ago, every single thought I just typed flashed in my head as I noticed that my nose was bleeding. Profusely.
I had taken an injured leg, a rib, wrist, twisted ankle and such. But never bleed. I even got a purple, Metroid-looking large bump on my side which I sware looks like Shaquille O'Neil if you squint a bit. I also got some new fresh reddish marks on my face, near my left eye. Those I can handle.
But to taste my blood once again, mixing up with the lack of oxygen input and tears was a bit of a shock. The taste of it. Even if metallic, I realized even after years of arrogantly seeking to know more and more, I was still just human. A sack of bloody meat that could cease to exist in the blink of an eye due to a wrong hit. I think Emilio was more concerned about the blood than I was. I was shaken, but my defiant stance didn't flinch. But everyone forced me to go at least clean my face. I remember looking with foggy eyes a teary reflection of my face and punching the mirror.
Nope, it didn't break. What, do you think I'm stupid?
When I got back, I wasn't allowed to fight him again. I almost broke the rules and stepped into the stage, but the coach told me to sit this one through. "You don't have anything to prove. Don't you get it? You're 18, he's 27. He's not even fighting you at half his strenght. Sit down."
Not even half.
It's hard realizing the power gap between you and your companion, specially when you thought you were JUST getting a chance of ever beating him. Wake up.
The ending was awkward, as I ended up doing fist-pushups to compensate and vent a little. I was angry, frustrated. I had been such an idiot to believe in just a month and a half I'd turn out to be a wonder. Classic noob mistake. I kept wiping the blood of my nose, which by this point was starting to heal. But in the times I closed my eyes to wipe the tears off, I had received kicks to the side and it hurt like hell when I walked.
And I got a mid-term exam in three hours.
So yeah, this day is not over yet. And I remember wake up and muttering out loud.
"This is gonna be a GREAT day."
So far, it has been. I needed a bit of my humility back and I got it.
Now let's go for the silver.
Of course then I found out about plasma, chemicals in the blood and all that boring stuff they shove in your head in 4th grade. But the thought had remained dormant, unbeknownst to me. It had remained there, not growing or sprouting, but always present.
Let's rewind back to the day I decided to do a contact sport. I was anxious. Impatient. I wanted to vent out so much energy, both negative and positive. I was happy because I'd get a chance to make Father and Mother proud of me in a field that I had never quite mastered : Physique.
I've never been an Arnold Scharzenneger, or Jabba the Hut. But I never quite mastered the physical peak that my brother, my older brother whom my father prided himself long ago, had mastered. I grew up gradually realizing that I turned out to be an almost exact of opposite of my father. At age 9 he was kissing his second girlfriend. At age 9 I was reading The Count Of Montecristo in Math class. At age 11, he was the spotlightof every party in his school, winning girls and causing male envy. At age 11, I was the quiet and kinda weird kid sitting at the back of the classroom drawing Megaman X. At age 12 he lost his virginity. At age 12, I discovered the internet ( which is much more of a trauma so up YOURS, dad ) .
And so on, Ad Infinitum.
My brother had taken every single thing my father did and took it up to eleven. I'm not gonna go into details, but at age 14 he was scoring threesomes and appearing in magazines so there's that. But I differentiated from both my Father and brother in the fact that my mind woke up earlier. He started to get amazed at my straight A's in 5th grade, and that sort of gave me a hope spot. Finally, a field I could conquer. A virgin land, where the shadow of my father, nor my brother reached. And thus, the start of my quest for intellectual fulfillment started.
Today, a couple of hours ago, every single thought I just typed flashed in my head as I noticed that my nose was bleeding. Profusely.
I had taken an injured leg, a rib, wrist, twisted ankle and such. But never bleed. I even got a purple, Metroid-looking large bump on my side which I sware looks like Shaquille O'Neil if you squint a bit. I also got some new fresh reddish marks on my face, near my left eye. Those I can handle.
But to taste my blood once again, mixing up with the lack of oxygen input and tears was a bit of a shock. The taste of it. Even if metallic, I realized even after years of arrogantly seeking to know more and more, I was still just human. A sack of bloody meat that could cease to exist in the blink of an eye due to a wrong hit. I think Emilio was more concerned about the blood than I was. I was shaken, but my defiant stance didn't flinch. But everyone forced me to go at least clean my face. I remember looking with foggy eyes a teary reflection of my face and punching the mirror.
Nope, it didn't break. What, do you think I'm stupid?
When I got back, I wasn't allowed to fight him again. I almost broke the rules and stepped into the stage, but the coach told me to sit this one through. "You don't have anything to prove. Don't you get it? You're 18, he's 27. He's not even fighting you at half his strenght. Sit down."
Not even half.
It's hard realizing the power gap between you and your companion, specially when you thought you were JUST getting a chance of ever beating him. Wake up.
The ending was awkward, as I ended up doing fist-pushups to compensate and vent a little. I was angry, frustrated. I had been such an idiot to believe in just a month and a half I'd turn out to be a wonder. Classic noob mistake. I kept wiping the blood of my nose, which by this point was starting to heal. But in the times I closed my eyes to wipe the tears off, I had received kicks to the side and it hurt like hell when I walked.
And I got a mid-term exam in three hours.
So yeah, this day is not over yet. And I remember wake up and muttering out loud.
"This is gonna be a GREAT day."
So far, it has been. I needed a bit of my humility back and I got it.
Now let's go for the silver.
domingo, 17 de abril de 2011
Everybody was Kung Fu Fightiiiiiiing...
Having my wounds healed, I decided to take it up a notch and double-turn my lessons to twice a day for 6 days a week. The teacher told me three things.
1) I was mad as a hatter.
2) I'd be dead by the end of the month.
3) If I wasn't dead by the end of the month, I would've leveled up faster than Speedy Gonzales on Red Bull.
Well, it's been a week since I started going twice a day and I already got new wounds. You know, the purple, nasty-looking ones. But then again, they don't hurt anymore after a day. Cuz I'm the goddamned Batman.
This week was GREAT on me, first I got great news about my college, then I got a very special message, followed by me totally OWNING my pals at DOTA on saturday ( Which is rare, since I prettymuch suck badly at that game ). And last but not least, I watched two game trailers that made me fangasm with the force of a thousand suns.
Megaman Online.
Fullstop.
For years, my megaman-loving ass has been ACHING for a new appearance of X, or a crossover between Classic/X series. And I got two trailers that show an appearently time-rip that allows robot masters and mavericks unite and storm the whole world, bringing Megaman, Protoman, Bass, X, Axl, Zero and Co to an alliance against the biggest god damn threat the Megaman universe has ever faced.
Did I mention I came? Because I did.
And no shitty gameplay-based trailers, no sir. Epic electronic bgm, beatiful OVA-like intros with a VERY nice artstyle that perfectly combines the styles of both the X and Zero series, thus FINALLY shutting up the saps claiming that Zero looked too girly in MMZ ( Its a blond guy with a ponytail and an armor with green boob-like gems. Whoop de fucking doo ).
Ahhhh this week has been great. I'm too beat to keep writing and I just hope that God, AKA The Man Upstairs, The Big Cheese, has some nice surprises in store for me. Because as of now, I'm thankful. So friggin thankful.
1) I was mad as a hatter.
2) I'd be dead by the end of the month.
3) If I wasn't dead by the end of the month, I would've leveled up faster than Speedy Gonzales on Red Bull.
Well, it's been a week since I started going twice a day and I already got new wounds. You know, the purple, nasty-looking ones. But then again, they don't hurt anymore after a day. Cuz I'm the goddamned Batman.
This week was GREAT on me, first I got great news about my college, then I got a very special message, followed by me totally OWNING my pals at DOTA on saturday ( Which is rare, since I prettymuch suck badly at that game ). And last but not least, I watched two game trailers that made me fangasm with the force of a thousand suns.
Megaman Online.
Fullstop.
For years, my megaman-loving ass has been ACHING for a new appearance of X, or a crossover between Classic/X series. And I got two trailers that show an appearently time-rip that allows robot masters and mavericks unite and storm the whole world, bringing Megaman, Protoman, Bass, X, Axl, Zero and Co to an alliance against the biggest god damn threat the Megaman universe has ever faced.
Did I mention I came? Because I did.
And no shitty gameplay-based trailers, no sir. Epic electronic bgm, beatiful OVA-like intros with a VERY nice artstyle that perfectly combines the styles of both the X and Zero series, thus FINALLY shutting up the saps claiming that Zero looked too girly in MMZ ( Its a blond guy with a ponytail and an armor with green boob-like gems. Whoop de fucking doo ).
Ahhhh this week has been great. I'm too beat to keep writing and I just hope that God, AKA The Man Upstairs, The Big Cheese, has some nice surprises in store for me. Because as of now, I'm thankful. So friggin thankful.
viernes, 1 de abril de 2011
Bravery + Idiocy = GOD FUCKING DAMN IT, IT HURTS!
Yes, this is gonna be ANOTHER post about how badly I got beaten up in Muay Thai. Don't blame me, I just started a month ago and I just fought a regional champion today. Fuck, I won 3 out of 9 rounds. Don't look at me that way bucko, let's see you doing better. That's what I thought. In any case, the construct of flesh once known as my left cheek is swollen, so is my right eye and my jaw hurts like hell. Let me explain why in a very detailed flashback
( Suggested soundtrack for reading this : Eye of the Tiger by Survivor )
"Go!"
The alarm bell rang and the next thing I knew, I was pit against the regional champion. Looking at this guy fully clothed you'd thing he's more of the dancer type than a fighter. Once he takes off the shirt and reveals he's ripped as fuck, you take that back and start peeing a little. Gladly not my case since my last 3 spars had allowed me to have an excuse to go to the bathroom to splash my face and take a leak. Because boy, does that make you wanna go. In any case, I was already on the arena so all I had left to choose was either :
a) Beg for mercy.
b) Pretend to faint.
c) Take it like a boss.
d) Pretend to be an Anime protagonist and hope to God I had a 'Berserk' mode in case I was about to die.
Needless to say, I choose 'c' and 'd'. Although 'b' didn't sound that bad since I've taken acting classes but whatever. I raised my fist and we shared a brofist. A dojo custom, makes you feel all the more informal and relaxed about getting your ass handed to ya. And to add insult to injury, this guy has a kickass motorcycle and would do a better Wesker lookalike than me. Fuck. So with this chain of thoughts in my head, the next thing I noticed was a kick. Aiming for my face. Fast. With the reflexes of an anime enthusiast, I managed to block the hit with my arm, thus absorbing the shock. Which sort of dislocated my shoulder. Two seconds in, and I was already losing limbs. Without much time to react, I ducked and evaded a second kick, this time a roundhouse. A fucking roundhouse. I was sure now that this guy wanted to kill me or maybe just see what my blood looked like.
I should mention at this point, my specialization in ANY sort of fight is dodging. Yes, it makes me look like a pussy. No, it's not gay at all since I'll probably outlive you when the ninjas rise again. And no, I can't do the Matrix bullet time dodge. Yet.
Appearently acknowledging that I required special service, he started throwing middle roundhouses aimed for my ribs. Only one of those connected, making me lose air for at least 4 seconds. Next thing, I took advantage of the moment he spin so I ducked and delivered a Shoryuken to the jaw.
Fucking blocked.
With his foot.
This was the moment I realized I really DID need anime powers in order to survive this. With the force of a thousand douchebags, I pushed my blocked hit further in order to de-estabilize him and then, my face hit the floor. I had been punched fully on one side of the face and could no longer feel it. I knew something was bleeding since I felt the coppery taste on my mouth. Not to mention my teeth hurt. I was starting to lose my cool. I stood up and faked a right kick, he fell for it and blocked so I kicked his opposite thigh, right in the nerves. It worked, making his stance a litte shaky, so I proceeded to unleash the fury of a 7 hit combo consisting of jab, swing, swing, charged punch, forward kick and jab. While I succeeded in connecting the blows, the guy merely absorbed each and every hit like I was throwing fucking Nerf darts at him. I charged another punch and aimed for the chest. Which proved to be a big mistake.
I got hit by a direct jab to the nose.
I stepped back a bit teary. Nobody fucks with the nose. I'm lucky I didn't get my dad's nose so nobody, but NOOOOOOOOOOBODY fuck with the NOSE. I inhaled deeply and decided to do another approach. When he started throwing punches at me, I cloistered up, absorbing each hit with my dislocated elbow. Maybe just maybe...
it worked.
At last, years of watching cartoons paid off. He delivered a blow that hit my elbow, placing it on its right place again. I confess I copied that maneuver from a series but fuck you, it worked. It was then when I ripped off Akuma from Street Fighters.
"SHUNGOKUSATSU!" ( Yes, I actually yelled that out loud in the middle of the fight. Yes, it was ridiculous. No, I don't regret it. )
For anyone who has played Street Fighters, you know what ensues. I started delivering punches, kicks, changing positions and repeating and connecting different combos without stopping. My arms and legs hurt like hell since doing this in a rapid motion is key for the move to work, and it is NOT good to force your body that way. But hell, I was already past the 'Wanna piece of me?' threshold. After what I can only remember as a blurry succession of moves, I couldn't bear the pain any more and stopped. Seems I actually hit him hard this time because I could see him smiling under his guard. With several reddish spots all over his arms, legs and chest.
"What, no hitting the face JD?"
"I don't hit the face dude. Not my style."
"JD, this is a sport. You could've dealt more damage if you hit me in the face."
"I won't hit you in the face, dammit. It hurts."
"Exactly. I did it to you, now do it to me."
"Dude, let me fight in my own style."
"You're dead."
He was right. I realized then that I did not possess enough brute force to produce hit trauma on him. I was hoping to hit his limbs and chest badly enough to cripple his moveset, but never the face. Not the face. I used to get hit the face by other kids when I was small. So never, ever the face.
Mind you, my kicks are powerful and this guy knew it. But appearently, I made a fatal mistake by informing him I would not attack the face. He changed his whole defence stance to body-protection type and I was prettymuch screwed. Not only did I have to break through his defence to deal a ( now weakened ) blow, but I also had to deal with a martial pacifist's worst nightmare :
Headbutts.
Funny thing about headbutts is that both parts get hurt, but only the target gets a fucked up stability. His first headbutt hit me full in the forehead, making me step back yet again. Only to notice something that seriously made me both enraged and terrified.
My father had arrived early and was watching the whole thing.
Now, I'm not the nervous 'Gotta live to daddy's expectations' type. But hell, one thing is to fight a dude who can reduce you to a bloody pulp, but it is another thing entirely to do it in front of you DAD. There's an unspoken rule amongst the brotherhood of men that states you do NOT get beat up in front of your dad. Ever. I think that's when my berserker kicked on.
Pretending to not have seen him, I delivered an uppercut to his jaw, only to receive and exact replica of my move from him. We both got hit, but only I was lifted a few centimeters form the floor. My eyes were teary again because fuck, that shit hurts. And now I could only see with my right eye. I didn't want to look at my father. I didn't want to look and see if he was indiferent, horrified, dissapointed or cheering. I just didn't want to look away because this guy would destroy me the moment one of my feelings leaked out.
Then I got a charged punch in the stomach, making me gasp for air and hit the wall behind me. The man didn't stop, delivering punches to my chest, stomach and face, and I tried to block most of them. I didn't want to lose in front of my father. I have my pride. I didn't want to lose in something I had chose to do. But why did I chose to do it in the first place? What was worth fighting for? Dad? Physique? Popularity? Her?
My dodging instinct kicked in and made me roll to the side, jumping up and delivering a punch backed up with the force of my whole body to his ribs.
It hit.
"The fuck?"
" I'm sorry, didn't mean to hurt you badly."
"Not that, moron, you're smiling. You fucking like pain, weirdo."
He was right in one thing : I was suddenly smiling for some reason, even though my lower lip was bleeding. The thought of her? It was the most likely option. I felt sort of refreshed even though my body felt like spontaneously combusting. Not the thought of 'being' with her. Just her. As she was. Smiling back. It made me smile subconciously.
And then I got a punch to the face, making me fly towards the wall again. Reality was calling me back.
I realized right there that I wasn't going to lose. The guy had won 6 sets, but there were 3 left. I wasn't gonna 'defeat' him. It wasn't going to end that way. But I wasn't gonna lose. Not now. He delivered a rounhouse kick to my ribs, I blocked it with my leg, he coutered with a swing punch, covered my face with my elbow and shoulder. I dashed to the side, breaking the cornered situation I had gotten in, took advantage of him giving me his back and delivered what I call a Right Hand Break. It's exactly what the name implies : I hit him with a right punch, so hard that it can potentially break my hand.
Yes, I name my attacks. No, I'm not kidding. Ask around.
In any case, my hand didn't break, but my wrist was done for. I'd have to do with left punches from now on. The lack of water and oxygen were already taxing me, and the strain from the shungokusatsu was already palpitating throughout my entire body. I was physically unable to move anymore unless I wanted cramps everywhere, but I didn't want to stop. My decrease in mobility took away my dodging bonus, hence rendering me open to every blow. I absorbed them all, but always returning in kind. I could almost feel my vision going blurry from sweat and fatigue.
The bell rang.
I fell on my butt, exhausted. My T-shirt was sticking to my body, drenched in sweat. It looked like I had fell on a pool. The guy aimed his fist toward me. We brofisted again, in respect.
"You kicked me in the balls once dude. Not cool. You need to control your kicks better."
"Holy shit I'm sorry ma-"
"Don't worry. Just relax, don't push yourself. You won 3 rounds out of 9. Against me. That's enough to get you laid."
I was physically unable to chuckle at this point but I smiled a bit. It was then when I noticed my dad was gone. Of course he had. He couldn't bear it. I picked up my stuff and took my white wristbands off. There were red spots in it. My lip was still bleeding when I rubbed them against it. I headed to the bathroom. Took a shirt out of bag and put it on after drying myself off. I'd shower at home better. The teacher walked in.
"Not once, JD. That's good."
"Ah?"
"Not once did you hit his face. Maybe you don't realize it, but you stopped your fist inches from his face 3 times dude. You're an idiot, but you at least stand by your beliefs. Which are stupid to me, mind you. You'll learn eventually. Get some ice on your face."
Considering the kindest thing this guy had spurted up to this point had been something among the lines of "MOVE YOUR ASS, FUCKING HOMOSEXUAL! KICK WITH FORCE, MOVING YOUR ASS LIKE THE BITCH YOU ARE!", it was clear that somehow, he had softened up a bit after my display of idiocy and reluctance to bail out.
Because it was supposed to be only 6 rounds.
I put a shirt on, walked outside carrying my stuff and saw my dad's car outside. I opened the side door and sat inside.
"Sorry for dissapointing you."
He started the engine and remained silent for the entire trip home.
When we arrived, he patted me on the shoulder softly.
"When I was your age, I got beat up by a bunch of seniors in military school. For two days, the bastards bothered me. Wanna know what I did?" he didn't wait for an answer " Next day I challenged them to a fight in breaktime, in front of everyone. Obviously, they weren't gonna say 'no', so they ganged up against me. That that I broke my nose, son. I also lost that fight."
"Your point being, winning is not everything?"
"My point being, your uncle Carlos was one of those three guys. Your uncle Carlos who is your godfather and wants you to spend more time with his sons. Your uncle Carlos my best friend. Because the fight lasted nearly half an hour and I didn't once kick them in the balls or the face even though they did."
"...And they became your friends because you showed restraint."
"They became my friends because I respected them even in a fight. We were best friend with the three of them up until now. I have lunch with your uncle Carlos next week."
He hugged me, and wasn't aware of how much it hurt when he did, but I didn't protest.
"My point being, I am proud. Your brother won a lot of fights, but hr never knew limits. You set limits even when you were getting beaten up. I love you, son."
"...You're Mr. Miyagi, aren't you."
"SEE? YOU CAN'T TAKE ANYTHING SEROUSLY, DAMMIT!"
I finish writing this post with a swollen cheek, a hurt jaw, a bleeding lip, a hurting nose probably a dislocated wrist. And I feel damn good.
Thanks Q, for not giving up on me. And for being a precious part of a living memory I'll reach someday.
( Suggested soundtrack for reading this : Eye of the Tiger by Survivor )
"Go!"
The alarm bell rang and the next thing I knew, I was pit against the regional champion. Looking at this guy fully clothed you'd thing he's more of the dancer type than a fighter. Once he takes off the shirt and reveals he's ripped as fuck, you take that back and start peeing a little. Gladly not my case since my last 3 spars had allowed me to have an excuse to go to the bathroom to splash my face and take a leak. Because boy, does that make you wanna go. In any case, I was already on the arena so all I had left to choose was either :
a) Beg for mercy.
b) Pretend to faint.
c) Take it like a boss.
d) Pretend to be an Anime protagonist and hope to God I had a 'Berserk' mode in case I was about to die.
Needless to say, I choose 'c' and 'd'. Although 'b' didn't sound that bad since I've taken acting classes but whatever. I raised my fist and we shared a brofist. A dojo custom, makes you feel all the more informal and relaxed about getting your ass handed to ya. And to add insult to injury, this guy has a kickass motorcycle and would do a better Wesker lookalike than me. Fuck. So with this chain of thoughts in my head, the next thing I noticed was a kick. Aiming for my face. Fast. With the reflexes of an anime enthusiast, I managed to block the hit with my arm, thus absorbing the shock. Which sort of dislocated my shoulder. Two seconds in, and I was already losing limbs. Without much time to react, I ducked and evaded a second kick, this time a roundhouse. A fucking roundhouse. I was sure now that this guy wanted to kill me or maybe just see what my blood looked like.
I should mention at this point, my specialization in ANY sort of fight is dodging. Yes, it makes me look like a pussy. No, it's not gay at all since I'll probably outlive you when the ninjas rise again. And no, I can't do the Matrix bullet time dodge. Yet.
Appearently acknowledging that I required special service, he started throwing middle roundhouses aimed for my ribs. Only one of those connected, making me lose air for at least 4 seconds. Next thing, I took advantage of the moment he spin so I ducked and delivered a Shoryuken to the jaw.
Fucking blocked.
With his foot.
This was the moment I realized I really DID need anime powers in order to survive this. With the force of a thousand douchebags, I pushed my blocked hit further in order to de-estabilize him and then, my face hit the floor. I had been punched fully on one side of the face and could no longer feel it. I knew something was bleeding since I felt the coppery taste on my mouth. Not to mention my teeth hurt. I was starting to lose my cool. I stood up and faked a right kick, he fell for it and blocked so I kicked his opposite thigh, right in the nerves. It worked, making his stance a litte shaky, so I proceeded to unleash the fury of a 7 hit combo consisting of jab, swing, swing, charged punch, forward kick and jab. While I succeeded in connecting the blows, the guy merely absorbed each and every hit like I was throwing fucking Nerf darts at him. I charged another punch and aimed for the chest. Which proved to be a big mistake.
I got hit by a direct jab to the nose.
I stepped back a bit teary. Nobody fucks with the nose. I'm lucky I didn't get my dad's nose so nobody, but NOOOOOOOOOOBODY fuck with the NOSE. I inhaled deeply and decided to do another approach. When he started throwing punches at me, I cloistered up, absorbing each hit with my dislocated elbow. Maybe just maybe...
it worked.
At last, years of watching cartoons paid off. He delivered a blow that hit my elbow, placing it on its right place again. I confess I copied that maneuver from a series but fuck you, it worked. It was then when I ripped off Akuma from Street Fighters.
"SHUNGOKUSATSU!" ( Yes, I actually yelled that out loud in the middle of the fight. Yes, it was ridiculous. No, I don't regret it. )
For anyone who has played Street Fighters, you know what ensues. I started delivering punches, kicks, changing positions and repeating and connecting different combos without stopping. My arms and legs hurt like hell since doing this in a rapid motion is key for the move to work, and it is NOT good to force your body that way. But hell, I was already past the 'Wanna piece of me?' threshold. After what I can only remember as a blurry succession of moves, I couldn't bear the pain any more and stopped. Seems I actually hit him hard this time because I could see him smiling under his guard. With several reddish spots all over his arms, legs and chest.
"What, no hitting the face JD?"
"I don't hit the face dude. Not my style."
"JD, this is a sport. You could've dealt more damage if you hit me in the face."
"I won't hit you in the face, dammit. It hurts."
"Exactly. I did it to you, now do it to me."
"Dude, let me fight in my own style."
"You're dead."
He was right. I realized then that I did not possess enough brute force to produce hit trauma on him. I was hoping to hit his limbs and chest badly enough to cripple his moveset, but never the face. Not the face. I used to get hit the face by other kids when I was small. So never, ever the face.
Mind you, my kicks are powerful and this guy knew it. But appearently, I made a fatal mistake by informing him I would not attack the face. He changed his whole defence stance to body-protection type and I was prettymuch screwed. Not only did I have to break through his defence to deal a ( now weakened ) blow, but I also had to deal with a martial pacifist's worst nightmare :
Headbutts.
Funny thing about headbutts is that both parts get hurt, but only the target gets a fucked up stability. His first headbutt hit me full in the forehead, making me step back yet again. Only to notice something that seriously made me both enraged and terrified.
My father had arrived early and was watching the whole thing.
Now, I'm not the nervous 'Gotta live to daddy's expectations' type. But hell, one thing is to fight a dude who can reduce you to a bloody pulp, but it is another thing entirely to do it in front of you DAD. There's an unspoken rule amongst the brotherhood of men that states you do NOT get beat up in front of your dad. Ever. I think that's when my berserker kicked on.
Pretending to not have seen him, I delivered an uppercut to his jaw, only to receive and exact replica of my move from him. We both got hit, but only I was lifted a few centimeters form the floor. My eyes were teary again because fuck, that shit hurts. And now I could only see with my right eye. I didn't want to look at my father. I didn't want to look and see if he was indiferent, horrified, dissapointed or cheering. I just didn't want to look away because this guy would destroy me the moment one of my feelings leaked out.
Then I got a charged punch in the stomach, making me gasp for air and hit the wall behind me. The man didn't stop, delivering punches to my chest, stomach and face, and I tried to block most of them. I didn't want to lose in front of my father. I have my pride. I didn't want to lose in something I had chose to do. But why did I chose to do it in the first place? What was worth fighting for? Dad? Physique? Popularity? Her?
My dodging instinct kicked in and made me roll to the side, jumping up and delivering a punch backed up with the force of my whole body to his ribs.
It hit.
"The fuck?"
" I'm sorry, didn't mean to hurt you badly."
"Not that, moron, you're smiling. You fucking like pain, weirdo."
He was right in one thing : I was suddenly smiling for some reason, even though my lower lip was bleeding. The thought of her? It was the most likely option. I felt sort of refreshed even though my body felt like spontaneously combusting. Not the thought of 'being' with her. Just her. As she was. Smiling back. It made me smile subconciously.
And then I got a punch to the face, making me fly towards the wall again. Reality was calling me back.
I realized right there that I wasn't going to lose. The guy had won 6 sets, but there were 3 left. I wasn't gonna 'defeat' him. It wasn't going to end that way. But I wasn't gonna lose. Not now. He delivered a rounhouse kick to my ribs, I blocked it with my leg, he coutered with a swing punch, covered my face with my elbow and shoulder. I dashed to the side, breaking the cornered situation I had gotten in, took advantage of him giving me his back and delivered what I call a Right Hand Break. It's exactly what the name implies : I hit him with a right punch, so hard that it can potentially break my hand.
Yes, I name my attacks. No, I'm not kidding. Ask around.
In any case, my hand didn't break, but my wrist was done for. I'd have to do with left punches from now on. The lack of water and oxygen were already taxing me, and the strain from the shungokusatsu was already palpitating throughout my entire body. I was physically unable to move anymore unless I wanted cramps everywhere, but I didn't want to stop. My decrease in mobility took away my dodging bonus, hence rendering me open to every blow. I absorbed them all, but always returning in kind. I could almost feel my vision going blurry from sweat and fatigue.
The bell rang.
I fell on my butt, exhausted. My T-shirt was sticking to my body, drenched in sweat. It looked like I had fell on a pool. The guy aimed his fist toward me. We brofisted again, in respect.
"You kicked me in the balls once dude. Not cool. You need to control your kicks better."
"Holy shit I'm sorry ma-"
"Don't worry. Just relax, don't push yourself. You won 3 rounds out of 9. Against me. That's enough to get you laid."
I was physically unable to chuckle at this point but I smiled a bit. It was then when I noticed my dad was gone. Of course he had. He couldn't bear it. I picked up my stuff and took my white wristbands off. There were red spots in it. My lip was still bleeding when I rubbed them against it. I headed to the bathroom. Took a shirt out of bag and put it on after drying myself off. I'd shower at home better. The teacher walked in.
"Not once, JD. That's good."
"Ah?"
"Not once did you hit his face. Maybe you don't realize it, but you stopped your fist inches from his face 3 times dude. You're an idiot, but you at least stand by your beliefs. Which are stupid to me, mind you. You'll learn eventually. Get some ice on your face."
Considering the kindest thing this guy had spurted up to this point had been something among the lines of "MOVE YOUR ASS, FUCKING HOMOSEXUAL! KICK WITH FORCE, MOVING YOUR ASS LIKE THE BITCH YOU ARE!", it was clear that somehow, he had softened up a bit after my display of idiocy and reluctance to bail out.
Because it was supposed to be only 6 rounds.
I put a shirt on, walked outside carrying my stuff and saw my dad's car outside. I opened the side door and sat inside.
"Sorry for dissapointing you."
He started the engine and remained silent for the entire trip home.
When we arrived, he patted me on the shoulder softly.
"When I was your age, I got beat up by a bunch of seniors in military school. For two days, the bastards bothered me. Wanna know what I did?" he didn't wait for an answer " Next day I challenged them to a fight in breaktime, in front of everyone. Obviously, they weren't gonna say 'no', so they ganged up against me. That that I broke my nose, son. I also lost that fight."
"Your point being, winning is not everything?"
"My point being, your uncle Carlos was one of those three guys. Your uncle Carlos who is your godfather and wants you to spend more time with his sons. Your uncle Carlos my best friend. Because the fight lasted nearly half an hour and I didn't once kick them in the balls or the face even though they did."
"...And they became your friends because you showed restraint."
"They became my friends because I respected them even in a fight. We were best friend with the three of them up until now. I have lunch with your uncle Carlos next week."
He hugged me, and wasn't aware of how much it hurt when he did, but I didn't protest.
"My point being, I am proud. Your brother won a lot of fights, but hr never knew limits. You set limits even when you were getting beaten up. I love you, son."
"...You're Mr. Miyagi, aren't you."
"SEE? YOU CAN'T TAKE ANYTHING SEROUSLY, DAMMIT!"
I finish writing this post with a swollen cheek, a hurt jaw, a bleeding lip, a hurting nose probably a dislocated wrist. And I feel damn good.
Thanks Q, for not giving up on me. And for being a precious part of a living memory I'll reach someday.
sábado, 26 de marzo de 2011
In a forgotten dirtroad
A couple of years ago, there was an earthquake in one of Peru's cities. Chincha. It was a major national tragedy. It happened while I was abroad. I watched on tv the shrieks of desperation from families trying to get their loved ones rescued, or at least have their bodies recovered. It was awful, yes, but as any other person exposed to the mass media, I thought to myself "This happens all the time. Around the globe, this happens and not every case gets a spotlight.". I told that to myself and I believed it. I was able to forget for a bit.
By the way, if you're expecting the funny parts of this entry you'll have to wait up. I have some serious words to give first. Now, exactly 18 hours ago I decided to embark into a missionary trip to Chincha city. Why? Because in every process of growing up and trying to cope with yourself and your mistakes, one must learn to see the world from another's eyes. It is the most simple and yet most difficult thing to do. In any case, I packed up my Barney the Dinosaur hand puppet, a minibible ( for the puppet ) and hit the road alongside my good friends Viewtiful Shaun, Renzo, PP, Percy and others. The 3 hour trip in the blazing sun of the coast was not a pain in the ass due to the sheer amount of planning we were focused on.
Oh did I mention we planned the show like, just 2 hours before doing it?
Yup. I just did.
In any case, I was to do a Christian Barney hand puppet read the bible for 120 kids. The Good Samaritan, namely. Now you might be wondering "What's the big deal?". Well, I'll start by saying that kids are not stupid. They know they get more props by acting stupid ( Hell, I used to do that ) and thus, they outsmart adults many many times.
Poor/Street kids, however, are on another league entirely.
Their cynism level rivals that of a fully grown adult, their skill in the arts of making you feel sorry and do shit for them is remarkably deadly. They also have the nasty tendency to make stuff dissapear whenever they :
a)Don't like you
b)Don't think you're funny enough
c)Like your shit
d)All of the above
Again, let me repeat. I was to perform a handpuppet Barney the Christian Dinosaur show for 120 of those kids.
120.
Needless to say, bricks were shat when I arrived there and saw the marabunta of little lovable rascals. I never get myself to feel annoyed with kids no matter how undeniably anooying they are. Maybe because I consider myself an overgrown kid. In any case, I smiled widely and greeted them as if they were my age, giving High-Fives to any kid that would not be busy trying to ransack me. Surprisingly enough, they seemed to like that and my backpack was safe for the entirety of the trip. Note to self : Kids will not bother you if you can earn their trust and respect. Mainly by not talking down to them. In any case, they were mostly covered in dirt and I suspect some of that wasn't exactly 'dirt' dirt. But to be honest I didn't care. Children are always a weakspot to me. Again, my inner child runs free in my psyche.
Hence, I only noticed that my hand was dirty when I was already behind the curtain and trying to get the hand puppet on. I decided I could care less, and wiped it on my Hurley shirt. Because I'd rather ruin a half-decent shirt than start having prejudices against little kids and their physical condition.
Alas, the show had started. I went into full-on Barney mode, trying to copy, emulate and reproduce all of the purple dinosaur's mannerisms...with my hand. And well, my voice helped. I knew that kids wouldn't buy some half assed 'Dude behind the curtain reads the bible' shit, so I dropped in some 4th wall breaking jokes, tv references, some fart jokes ( kids dig that ) and added a bit of my over-the-top personality to the hand puppet in order to make it look more alive.
It worked.
My pals helped me along with the play by enacting the scenes Barney narrated, and the kids liked it. I enjoyed myself even though I was practically boiling behind that curtain ( Again, Chincha is VERY HOT these days ) but it was worth every sweat drop. As a finale, Barney decided to go 'downstairs to go back to his car and drive to his home'. A little bit of 'getting fat these days' joking and voila. Show was over. It lasted at least 20 minutes of improvising. Again, we succeeded in this and with one of the toughest crowds to please. Not to mention the ages ranged from 6 to 13. And both you and I KNOW what that combination can do.
After the show, I was asked to give some sort of peppy speech to the kids. I decided to go Anime Shounen Hero at them and talked about how no matter the suck-level of situations, one can always get past it with willpower, faith and patience. Now, telling cyinical, impulsive and street savvy kids about patience, faith and willpower is not an easy task, mind you. So at first they looked at me with a clear 'Get back to the hand puppet shit' face.
Until I started talking about superheroes.
Boy, it was amazing to see just how easy it was for me to relate to them and their chain of thoughts. I discovered right there that I had been arrogant in my intention. I had gone there to try and teach the kids about Christianity. But these poor, dirty and nearly illiterate kids were teaching me so much about the world that I had ignored and forgotten for so long. I remembered what it was like to make a friend without looking at what he was wearing. I had forgotten how nice it was to play in a forgotten dirtroad without caring about the filth in your clothes. I let my 18-year old self share with these kids a passion for fun and games that I confess, I often repressed. I remember how it is not okay to forget to be a kid. I remembered how I am supposed to do random and childish things once in a while.
I remembered what it was like to be blissfully happy, without a care in the world.
Just lying on the dirty pavement, exhausted from playing. Exhausted and happy.
I remembered what is was like to love someone without even knowing that person entirely.
And a bunch of street kids taught me that in the four hours of the event.
It was both a well-deserved slap to my pride and a wise lesson to learn. These kids lived basically in huts. Flies would often invade the place. They didn't know what the internet was. They didn't know they were supposed to one day, make a choice about a carrier or job. They weren't AWARE of the fact that day by day, adults fuck up the world that is supposed to be their inheritance. And they're happier than I'll ever be. Their smiles are more radiant and true than mine in my best hour. I can never hope to smile like that.
But I also learned that nevertheless, I have to smile.
Always smile.
I love you, kids. Thanks for teaching me how much of an immature prick I can be.
I'm definitely coming back there. When I do, I'll enjoy time with those kids again. Without caring if I ruin another shirt, or if they just put up with me to get free gifts. I seriously don't care. I'm sure they don't. Whenever I am called to go there, I will. Because I already owe them a lot.
Because they brought my spirits up. And reminded me that some things are worth waiting for.
So this entry is dedicated to the kids in Chincha, and every kid that is able to see a world of fantasy and wonder amidst this hellhole we call 'tragedy'.
We'll need that kind of people someday. I'm sure we will.
Night peeps.
By the way, if you're expecting the funny parts of this entry you'll have to wait up. I have some serious words to give first. Now, exactly 18 hours ago I decided to embark into a missionary trip to Chincha city. Why? Because in every process of growing up and trying to cope with yourself and your mistakes, one must learn to see the world from another's eyes. It is the most simple and yet most difficult thing to do. In any case, I packed up my Barney the Dinosaur hand puppet, a minibible ( for the puppet ) and hit the road alongside my good friends Viewtiful Shaun, Renzo, PP, Percy and others. The 3 hour trip in the blazing sun of the coast was not a pain in the ass due to the sheer amount of planning we were focused on.
Oh did I mention we planned the show like, just 2 hours before doing it?
Yup. I just did.
In any case, I was to do a Christian Barney hand puppet read the bible for 120 kids. The Good Samaritan, namely. Now you might be wondering "What's the big deal?". Well, I'll start by saying that kids are not stupid. They know they get more props by acting stupid ( Hell, I used to do that ) and thus, they outsmart adults many many times.
Poor/Street kids, however, are on another league entirely.
Their cynism level rivals that of a fully grown adult, their skill in the arts of making you feel sorry and do shit for them is remarkably deadly. They also have the nasty tendency to make stuff dissapear whenever they :
a)Don't like you
b)Don't think you're funny enough
c)Like your shit
d)All of the above
Again, let me repeat. I was to perform a handpuppet Barney the Christian Dinosaur show for 120 of those kids.
120.
Needless to say, bricks were shat when I arrived there and saw the marabunta of little lovable rascals. I never get myself to feel annoyed with kids no matter how undeniably anooying they are. Maybe because I consider myself an overgrown kid. In any case, I smiled widely and greeted them as if they were my age, giving High-Fives to any kid that would not be busy trying to ransack me. Surprisingly enough, they seemed to like that and my backpack was safe for the entirety of the trip. Note to self : Kids will not bother you if you can earn their trust and respect. Mainly by not talking down to them. In any case, they were mostly covered in dirt and I suspect some of that wasn't exactly 'dirt' dirt. But to be honest I didn't care. Children are always a weakspot to me. Again, my inner child runs free in my psyche.
Hence, I only noticed that my hand was dirty when I was already behind the curtain and trying to get the hand puppet on. I decided I could care less, and wiped it on my Hurley shirt. Because I'd rather ruin a half-decent shirt than start having prejudices against little kids and their physical condition.
Alas, the show had started. I went into full-on Barney mode, trying to copy, emulate and reproduce all of the purple dinosaur's mannerisms...with my hand. And well, my voice helped. I knew that kids wouldn't buy some half assed 'Dude behind the curtain reads the bible' shit, so I dropped in some 4th wall breaking jokes, tv references, some fart jokes ( kids dig that ) and added a bit of my over-the-top personality to the hand puppet in order to make it look more alive.
It worked.
My pals helped me along with the play by enacting the scenes Barney narrated, and the kids liked it. I enjoyed myself even though I was practically boiling behind that curtain ( Again, Chincha is VERY HOT these days ) but it was worth every sweat drop. As a finale, Barney decided to go 'downstairs to go back to his car and drive to his home'. A little bit of 'getting fat these days' joking and voila. Show was over. It lasted at least 20 minutes of improvising. Again, we succeeded in this and with one of the toughest crowds to please. Not to mention the ages ranged from 6 to 13. And both you and I KNOW what that combination can do.
After the show, I was asked to give some sort of peppy speech to the kids. I decided to go Anime Shounen Hero at them and talked about how no matter the suck-level of situations, one can always get past it with willpower, faith and patience. Now, telling cyinical, impulsive and street savvy kids about patience, faith and willpower is not an easy task, mind you. So at first they looked at me with a clear 'Get back to the hand puppet shit' face.
Until I started talking about superheroes.
Boy, it was amazing to see just how easy it was for me to relate to them and their chain of thoughts. I discovered right there that I had been arrogant in my intention. I had gone there to try and teach the kids about Christianity. But these poor, dirty and nearly illiterate kids were teaching me so much about the world that I had ignored and forgotten for so long. I remembered what it was like to make a friend without looking at what he was wearing. I had forgotten how nice it was to play in a forgotten dirtroad without caring about the filth in your clothes. I let my 18-year old self share with these kids a passion for fun and games that I confess, I often repressed. I remember how it is not okay to forget to be a kid. I remembered how I am supposed to do random and childish things once in a while.
I remembered what it was like to be blissfully happy, without a care in the world.
Just lying on the dirty pavement, exhausted from playing. Exhausted and happy.
I remembered what is was like to love someone without even knowing that person entirely.
And a bunch of street kids taught me that in the four hours of the event.
It was both a well-deserved slap to my pride and a wise lesson to learn. These kids lived basically in huts. Flies would often invade the place. They didn't know what the internet was. They didn't know they were supposed to one day, make a choice about a carrier or job. They weren't AWARE of the fact that day by day, adults fuck up the world that is supposed to be their inheritance. And they're happier than I'll ever be. Their smiles are more radiant and true than mine in my best hour. I can never hope to smile like that.
But I also learned that nevertheless, I have to smile.
Always smile.
I love you, kids. Thanks for teaching me how much of an immature prick I can be.
I'm definitely coming back there. When I do, I'll enjoy time with those kids again. Without caring if I ruin another shirt, or if they just put up with me to get free gifts. I seriously don't care. I'm sure they don't. Whenever I am called to go there, I will. Because I already owe them a lot.
Because they brought my spirits up. And reminded me that some things are worth waiting for.
So this entry is dedicated to the kids in Chincha, and every kid that is able to see a world of fantasy and wonder amidst this hellhole we call 'tragedy'.
We'll need that kind of people someday. I'm sure we will.
Night peeps.
martes, 22 de marzo de 2011
Rhapsody of the Leg
Muay Thai. A fighting technique inherited from Thailand, brought to the western world long ago by inmigrants. And also the cause of my morning pains for the last month. While Tae Kwon Do, Judo, Karate, Kung Fu and other oriental disciplines put an emphasis to aesthetics and such, Muay Thai cannalizes it into the ability to turn your oponent ( or yourself ) into a bloody pulp. It's also good for showing your guns to the ladies. Ever since Q-Day, I've been looking for a way to vent my angst into actual positive energy and motivation. I talked to my brother ( who is the ultimate gymfag ) and he told me about this little fighting style in the poetic yet direct way of :
"It's FUCKING bloody."
Ah brother, how I miss you. Anyways, first day there, my angst was gone. It was replaced by several concussions, a kick to the jab and a broken leg. Fortunately, my habit of NEVER wearing tight pants has allowed me to conceal the prothesis.
I mean guys, there are better ways of showing your -laughable- package. Consider speedos.
In any case, it took me an entire week of waking up in complete exhaustion to realize I haven't felt such a rush in a long long time. The moment when your hearbeat increases so much you can hear blood pumping in your ears, trying to decide whether to drink water OR breath -because the urgence your body feels is painstaking-, THAT is the moment I live for. Sharing this with my friends has left such wonderful comments as :
Reld : O_o you crazy
Dad : THAT'S MY BOY! You know, when I was your age I( insert ancient history text here )
Mom : WHAT IS WRONG WITH THOSE PEOPLE! MY POOR BOY, LOOK WHAT THEY'VE DONE TO YOU!
Wachín : Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude...
Renzo : The fuck? Are you trying to fight your way to her or what? Because ninja lessons don't require you to die on the 5th session and are much cheaper.
Diego : CHALLENGE. ACCEPTED ( punched me in the gut )
Shaun : Way to go man! See ya on the weekend! ( no comment on the broken leg, goes back to Amanda )
PP : ESEEEEEEEEEEE...
Oh guys, what would I do without you.
Maybe one of the things that gets me most excited these days is my newfound innate ability with Corel Draw. I mean, it is by no means fun to use but BOY do I get a thrill while creating images. When I get my laptop ( WEBCAM ENABLED WEE )first thing I'm doing is draw a ***GOOGLE CORPORATION AND THE FCC HAS CENSORED THIS CONTENT***
Aw hell yeah.
Meanwhile on college, I got dryhumped by one of my friends. It has derived into a homoerotic battle of epic proportions in which if one of us leaves an opening to his behind, dryhump ensues.
Yes, healthy and educative fun for all the family. Oh the joy.
My black best friend, Api, has been appearing on my head lately. Mainly due to the fact I was used to see him every single day at school and now, a year after, I feel sort of nostalgic. Sure, I saw Reld too but then again, we have a love/hate friendship. Now that I think about it, we met by stabbing each other with pens on breaktime.
Ahhh friendship. What a wonderful thing.
DAMN this apple is juicy.
"It's FUCKING bloody."
Ah brother, how I miss you. Anyways, first day there, my angst was gone. It was replaced by several concussions, a kick to the jab and a broken leg. Fortunately, my habit of NEVER wearing tight pants has allowed me to conceal the prothesis.
I mean guys, there are better ways of showing your -laughable- package. Consider speedos.
In any case, it took me an entire week of waking up in complete exhaustion to realize I haven't felt such a rush in a long long time. The moment when your hearbeat increases so much you can hear blood pumping in your ears, trying to decide whether to drink water OR breath -because the urgence your body feels is painstaking-, THAT is the moment I live for. Sharing this with my friends has left such wonderful comments as :
Reld : O_o you crazy
Dad : THAT'S MY BOY! You know, when I was your age I( insert ancient history text here )
Mom : WHAT IS WRONG WITH THOSE PEOPLE! MY POOR BOY, LOOK WHAT THEY'VE DONE TO YOU!
Wachín : Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude...
Renzo : The fuck? Are you trying to fight your way to her or what? Because ninja lessons don't require you to die on the 5th session and are much cheaper.
Diego : CHALLENGE. ACCEPTED ( punched me in the gut )
Shaun : Way to go man! See ya on the weekend! ( no comment on the broken leg, goes back to Amanda )
PP : ESEEEEEEEEEEE...
Oh guys, what would I do without you.
Maybe one of the things that gets me most excited these days is my newfound innate ability with Corel Draw. I mean, it is by no means fun to use but BOY do I get a thrill while creating images. When I get my laptop ( WEBCAM ENABLED WEE )first thing I'm doing is draw a ***GOOGLE CORPORATION AND THE FCC HAS CENSORED THIS CONTENT***
Aw hell yeah.
Meanwhile on college, I got dryhumped by one of my friends. It has derived into a homoerotic battle of epic proportions in which if one of us leaves an opening to his behind, dryhump ensues.
Yes, healthy and educative fun for all the family. Oh the joy.
My black best friend, Api, has been appearing on my head lately. Mainly due to the fact I was used to see him every single day at school and now, a year after, I feel sort of nostalgic. Sure, I saw Reld too but then again, we have a love/hate friendship. Now that I think about it, we met by stabbing each other with pens on breaktime.
Ahhh friendship. What a wonderful thing.
DAMN this apple is juicy.
lunes, 7 de marzo de 2011
Never gonna give you up
And I say 'never gonna let you down'. It's me. Again. Writing shit that nobody wants to read but free time and such has allowed the internet to create such wonder. The internet can create wonders. It connects so many people, creates bonds from afar. Like WoW nerds who go raiding together and then try to figure out what a pair of real boobs look like. Truly charming. But this one blog entry has an owner. An owner who isn't as avaiable as always, but I hope to God that this will somehow be found. Like a note in a bottle.
Before you go ahead and block this off too, take a minute to read a bit of internet sincerity guys, will you?
Age. It defines so many things and yet so little. I am a person full of regrets and embarrassments, and yet I find myself to be at least a decent person. I think I've made mistakes. And I'm sorry for them. Some of them I'm just sorry, some of them I wish with all my might I had never even got to commit them. Sometimes, the bonds and limits vanish like there is nothing that separates two minds and shit happens. Yes. I know I've made a horrible mistake. You have every right to be upset. I had no right to do what I did, and it was probably something horrendous to do without context. But I meant every single nice word. Which is hard to do when you can't see my face. Even though you'll probably hate me. Hate me then. I can accept that. But blame me. Only on me. I value that person so much, it's insane to think such a thing would grow on the internet. I'm not a loon. I'm not crazy. I'm perfectly god damn sane college student with perfectly above the average grades and I knew what I was getting into.
If this is the new way things are, so be it. But know that it will change nothing at all. Except maybe severing a bond that would've grown into something you guys would've liked. Who knows. I'm just ranting again.
The point is, it will not go away. I'm patient, I don't hold grudges. If anyone is to blame it is me and I apologise. Don't punish a person who didn't commit anything evil or despicable. I still think you guys are great people and if you think I can fake all of this stuff just to stalk someone, you're giving me way too much credit and - with due respect - you don't know me. At all. Which is a shame, since I looked forward to meet you.
I'll still be here, if anything comes up. If things can be talked through, I'll be glad to do it. I'm sorry for the trouble. So deeply sorry. I'm not gonna lie, it hurts. It hurst me. I'm a human being and I'm hurt by this. But if anything, I just wish my pain is greater than that person's. If this wasn't meant to be, I hope she didn't even feel the same way I felt because that way she's gonna get over it faster. Just that.I still hope this doesn't end. But this is the best I can do right now. That, and doing my best to not break down. Maybe you guys don't get it, but I wish the best for her. A person who she knew on the internet. And if you guys think that not talking to me ever again is the best for her, then I'm destroyed. But there's nothing on my power that I can do right now. And you will probably block this site too. If you already haven't.
This isn't just a message for her, it's for you too. Her family. The people she has told me several times she loves. The fun, wise-cracking dad, the loving, caring mother, the chill, relaxed brother. Wonderful people I'll never forget because for better or worse, this will be engraved in my memory not as a grudge or sadness, but as a reminder. A reminded that once upon a time, two people found each other a were happy. For a small time. From afar. Truly and honestly.
It's what loneliness can do.
Best wishes.
Avocado.
P.S : That swordfight is still on, Mr.Superkamikazecacatuar. I'm a man of my word. I keep my promises. I always do. To you, or your daughter.
Before you go ahead and block this off too, take a minute to read a bit of internet sincerity guys, will you?
Age. It defines so many things and yet so little. I am a person full of regrets and embarrassments, and yet I find myself to be at least a decent person. I think I've made mistakes. And I'm sorry for them. Some of them I'm just sorry, some of them I wish with all my might I had never even got to commit them. Sometimes, the bonds and limits vanish like there is nothing that separates two minds and shit happens. Yes. I know I've made a horrible mistake. You have every right to be upset. I had no right to do what I did, and it was probably something horrendous to do without context. But I meant every single nice word. Which is hard to do when you can't see my face. Even though you'll probably hate me. Hate me then. I can accept that. But blame me. Only on me. I value that person so much, it's insane to think such a thing would grow on the internet. I'm not a loon. I'm not crazy. I'm perfectly god damn sane college student with perfectly above the average grades and I knew what I was getting into.
If this is the new way things are, so be it. But know that it will change nothing at all. Except maybe severing a bond that would've grown into something you guys would've liked. Who knows. I'm just ranting again.
The point is, it will not go away. I'm patient, I don't hold grudges. If anyone is to blame it is me and I apologise. Don't punish a person who didn't commit anything evil or despicable. I still think you guys are great people and if you think I can fake all of this stuff just to stalk someone, you're giving me way too much credit and - with due respect - you don't know me. At all. Which is a shame, since I looked forward to meet you.
I'll still be here, if anything comes up. If things can be talked through, I'll be glad to do it. I'm sorry for the trouble. So deeply sorry. I'm not gonna lie, it hurts. It hurst me. I'm a human being and I'm hurt by this. But if anything, I just wish my pain is greater than that person's. If this wasn't meant to be, I hope she didn't even feel the same way I felt because that way she's gonna get over it faster. Just that.I still hope this doesn't end. But this is the best I can do right now. That, and doing my best to not break down. Maybe you guys don't get it, but I wish the best for her. A person who she knew on the internet. And if you guys think that not talking to me ever again is the best for her, then I'm destroyed. But there's nothing on my power that I can do right now. And you will probably block this site too. If you already haven't.
This isn't just a message for her, it's for you too. Her family. The people she has told me several times she loves. The fun, wise-cracking dad, the loving, caring mother, the chill, relaxed brother. Wonderful people I'll never forget because for better or worse, this will be engraved in my memory not as a grudge or sadness, but as a reminder. A reminded that once upon a time, two people found each other a were happy. For a small time. From afar. Truly and honestly.
It's what loneliness can do.
Best wishes.
Avocado.
P.S : That swordfight is still on, Mr.Superkamikazecacatuar. I'm a man of my word. I keep my promises. I always do. To you, or your daughter.
lunes, 14 de febrero de 2011
Single Awareness Day : Quit bitching. This is why nobody loves you.
And is also why the last time you got laid was that night with that girl with a deep voice who kept asking you to call her Larry and did things to you in the back of the Gas Station that you will never tell anyone about. And then probably score some coke. Hell if I know, I don't do drugs.
My body naturally reproduces the same effects.
In any case, today was a very special day. Which means that I was alive for its entirety again, such a miracle life is. Oh and Valentine's Day. I still don't get the whole 'buy shit, give to girl, act gay, ????, profit' jingle that is Valentine's Day. Maybe due to the fact that I've never spent one in the company of a love o-WHY DID YOU GO AWAY NADINE, WHY WHY WHY DID YOU LEAVE AND GOT PREGNANT WITH THAT JACKASS WHO LEFT YOU TO DIE ALONE IN GUATEMALA, WE COULD'VE BUILT A LIFE TOGHET-***Hi, this is JD's repressed inner adult. Appearently, he's having some sort of emotional breakdown yet again due to the unholy amount of repressed issues, most of them having to do with lack of restrain and his lost dog who he never found again. While the doctors take care, feel free to watch this funny video about Narwhals -> http://narwhals.se/ We'll be back shortly.***
And that's how I became the prince of Bel Air. Also, Hitler. I totally killed him. SO, while I try to figure out why am I in this straitjacket and inside a mental asylum, I'll keep ranting about Valentine's Day.
( For those of you smartypants who just went 'DURRR YOU CAN'T TYPE IF YOU'RE IN A STRAITJACKET' I have only one thing to say : A wizard did it. Wanna know what else he does? Your mom. )
An inspiring story is that one of this guy in the Bible, who in order to get to bang his hot girlfriend who happened to be the daughter of the king of whatever ( It's been YEARS since I've read the bible ok? ) had to kill 50 men and as proof of his deed, he had to bring their foreskins as proof. So basically, cut their dongs off. he guy then came back after a week with 100 foreskins of the kingdom's enemies to present to the king. Obviously, he got to tap the king's daughter that same night. So remember ladies, next time you want to test your man, just ask him "How many dicks would you cut for me?". If he acts surprised, he's not worth your time. If he responds 'How many do you want?' he's probably gay and into sodomy. If he suddenly grabs the nearest sharp object and runs after the first male he sees, you've got a romance for a lifetime. Also, if you believe that story about a guy cutting dongs off isn't in the bible, look it up. After all it's the book that starts with a talking snake getting humans expelled from the VIP zone, then God deciding to drown everyone, then getting his people to be blessed, and suddenly rescuing them from Nazis/Egyptians out of nowhere by using hacks and making fire rain, sea split, then having a son with an underage girl, making that son the ultimate real life hacker who then turns into a zombie and will return one day.
Totally legit. Looks trustworthy to me.
Then on the other hand, we have atheism. The belief that in the beggining there was nothing, and that nothing happened to nothing and then suddenly something exploded for no reason, creating everything and thus rearranging it randomly into self replicating cells which then turned into dinosaurs. Makes perfect sense.
In any case remember to treat religious beliefs like your penis : Don't show it off in public, don't brag about it, and don't shove it down your children's throat.
I learned that in order to start being likeable, and actually starting to be accessible to the opposite sex, you must start by first getting to like the slobby, pitiful mashup of wasted sperm that is yourself. By accomplishing that not only do you avoid toxic relationships ( I'm looking at you, Louis ) but you're also less likely to become a putrid waste of space that should be shot down out of mercy. Namely, a Twilight fan or a Justin Bieber enthusiast. Also, girls, if you really don't want guys staring at your ass because you're using short skin-tight shorts then maybe you should stop confusing 'Sexy' with 'Prostitute'. Sure, there are places to wear that top and that mini miniskirt with high heels but college is not one of them. To quote a dialog I had last Friday :
-"The fact that I dress like a slut doesn't mean I'm a slut!"
-"Yeah well, the fact that I act like a rapist doesn't mean I'm a rapist. Nice tits by the way."
Also, dear Alexis, if you're reading this let me explain to you why women can be sluts if they sleep with many men and why men can't be whores no matter how many women they fuck : If a key opens many locks, it's a master key. If a lock is opened by many keys, it's a shitty lock. Ergo, girls, at least play hard to get. You wouldn't believe how fast rumours spread about your flexibility. And don't even get me started on those 'private photos' your boyfriend took, because I just downloaded them from the internet 1 hour after you went home.
So, I have to go now as my computer warns me there's a robbery on the national bank, and thus I must dress up in my exosuit and fight crime as the scourge of criminals. Or just go back to reading funny shit at Cracked.com, I dunno. In any case, my final remarks upon the Valentine's Day issue is :
Copulate, not populate. Have fun.
My body naturally reproduces the same effects.
In any case, today was a very special day. Which means that I was alive for its entirety again, such a miracle life is. Oh and Valentine's Day. I still don't get the whole 'buy shit, give to girl, act gay, ????, profit' jingle that is Valentine's Day. Maybe due to the fact that I've never spent one in the company of a love o-WHY DID YOU GO AWAY NADINE, WHY WHY WHY DID YOU LEAVE AND GOT PREGNANT WITH THAT JACKASS WHO LEFT YOU TO DIE ALONE IN GUATEMALA, WE COULD'VE BUILT A LIFE TOGHET-***Hi, this is JD's repressed inner adult. Appearently, he's having some sort of emotional breakdown yet again due to the unholy amount of repressed issues, most of them having to do with lack of restrain and his lost dog who he never found again. While the doctors take care, feel free to watch this funny video about Narwhals -> http://narwhals.se/ We'll be back shortly.***
And that's how I became the prince of Bel Air. Also, Hitler. I totally killed him. SO, while I try to figure out why am I in this straitjacket and inside a mental asylum, I'll keep ranting about Valentine's Day.
( For those of you smartypants who just went 'DURRR YOU CAN'T TYPE IF YOU'RE IN A STRAITJACKET' I have only one thing to say : A wizard did it. Wanna know what else he does? Your mom. )
An inspiring story is that one of this guy in the Bible, who in order to get to bang his hot girlfriend who happened to be the daughter of the king of whatever ( It's been YEARS since I've read the bible ok? ) had to kill 50 men and as proof of his deed, he had to bring their foreskins as proof. So basically, cut their dongs off. he guy then came back after a week with 100 foreskins of the kingdom's enemies to present to the king. Obviously, he got to tap the king's daughter that same night. So remember ladies, next time you want to test your man, just ask him "How many dicks would you cut for me?". If he acts surprised, he's not worth your time. If he responds 'How many do you want?' he's probably gay and into sodomy. If he suddenly grabs the nearest sharp object and runs after the first male he sees, you've got a romance for a lifetime. Also, if you believe that story about a guy cutting dongs off isn't in the bible, look it up. After all it's the book that starts with a talking snake getting humans expelled from the VIP zone, then God deciding to drown everyone, then getting his people to be blessed, and suddenly rescuing them from Nazis/Egyptians out of nowhere by using hacks and making fire rain, sea split, then having a son with an underage girl, making that son the ultimate real life hacker who then turns into a zombie and will return one day.
Totally legit. Looks trustworthy to me.
Then on the other hand, we have atheism. The belief that in the beggining there was nothing, and that nothing happened to nothing and then suddenly something exploded for no reason, creating everything and thus rearranging it randomly into self replicating cells which then turned into dinosaurs. Makes perfect sense.
In any case remember to treat religious beliefs like your penis : Don't show it off in public, don't brag about it, and don't shove it down your children's throat.
I learned that in order to start being likeable, and actually starting to be accessible to the opposite sex, you must start by first getting to like the slobby, pitiful mashup of wasted sperm that is yourself. By accomplishing that not only do you avoid toxic relationships ( I'm looking at you, Louis ) but you're also less likely to become a putrid waste of space that should be shot down out of mercy. Namely, a Twilight fan or a Justin Bieber enthusiast. Also, girls, if you really don't want guys staring at your ass because you're using short skin-tight shorts then maybe you should stop confusing 'Sexy' with 'Prostitute'. Sure, there are places to wear that top and that mini miniskirt with high heels but college is not one of them. To quote a dialog I had last Friday :
-"The fact that I dress like a slut doesn't mean I'm a slut!"
-"Yeah well, the fact that I act like a rapist doesn't mean I'm a rapist. Nice tits by the way."
Also, dear Alexis, if you're reading this let me explain to you why women can be sluts if they sleep with many men and why men can't be whores no matter how many women they fuck : If a key opens many locks, it's a master key. If a lock is opened by many keys, it's a shitty lock. Ergo, girls, at least play hard to get. You wouldn't believe how fast rumours spread about your flexibility. And don't even get me started on those 'private photos' your boyfriend took, because I just downloaded them from the internet 1 hour after you went home.
So, I have to go now as my computer warns me there's a robbery on the national bank, and thus I must dress up in my exosuit and fight crime as the scourge of criminals. Or just go back to reading funny shit at Cracked.com, I dunno. In any case, my final remarks upon the Valentine's Day issue is :
Copulate, not populate. Have fun.
martes, 8 de febrero de 2011
Good News everyone! I invented a device that makes you read this in my voice!
Yup, I'll keep writing nonsensical blabber that nobody wants to read. It's been a lot of time since I last visited this site. I decided to came back after the following exchange :
Vader : Dude, are you emo?
Me : Wtflol
Vader : Your last entry is like...waaaaaaay emo and pretentious. Are you really that much of an asshole? Cuz it looks like you hate every human on the planet.
I came here, read my last entry and instantly remembered the night after the prom, where I got myself drunk with a single glass of beer and listened waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too many heavy metal.
See kiddies? Internet+Drunk = OMGDRAMAQUEENBAWWWWWW
So yeah, I'm not gonna erase the previous entry because really. it's just funny to see how much of a depressed twat I can be. Plus, shits and giggles. The internet is not serious business. Honestly, after Piero linked me to that '2 girls 1 cup video' I lost faith in humanity's capability of not doing weird shit.
Thank you Japan, bringing the world unbelievable wierd porn since 1946. And tentancles. Why the FUCK did it have to be tentacles?
Anyway, lost track of the issue at hand. I was reading through all of my old entries and had a couple of thoughts about how to revamp and update this shitfest I call 'blog'. One of my ideas was to make a war-like format, but I decided not to do it due to literary causes and lack of resources. Namely, because there's no Nazis for me to kill while riding atop a motorcycle with an open leather jacket and an oiled chest, rock music on the background as the hot busty blonde looks at the sheer amount of awesome in admiration. So yeah, no war journal. Then was the idea of making this into a Slenderman ARG journal but then I realized that :
1) I'd need special effects.
2) This is Peru. Nobody knows who the fuck is Slenderman.
3) The few people who DO know who is Slenderman are probably Piero and other 4chan oldfags.
5)4chan is NOT a good place to know if you plan on having a life.
4) The sum of the last 3 reasons will be an obvious impediment to getting laid if a chick from college finds this.
Also, I do NOT plan to turn this into a diary journal. So if you want to read about my daily life, try actually using msn. Yes, it still exists. Yes, it is better than Facebook. Which brings me to my next point :
IF you plan to have any amount of privacy in your life, don't use Facebook.
Sure, people will brand you as an outtaded nolife but in the end I consider having my private life kept to myself and my close bros more important than gaining the approval of people who will probably etiquette you on that embarrassing picture of you without a shirt on, taking a dump on a pool while completely drunk, thus causing your mom, dad, brothers, sisters, friends and stalkers to know that you really can't manage your alcohol because you so thoughtless added them without thinking about the gaping hole of privacy you just unleashed. Yes, it has happened. No, it wasn't me in the picture.
I was the one who took the picture. Yes, I'm a heartless bastard when I want to. ( insert lightning and bats here ). And no, untagging yourself isn't going to stop it from becoming a meme. And there's ALWAYS tha nasty wasty friend who posts embarrassing shit you don't want anyone to see.
I'm looking at you, Fernando.
SO, to finish this rant, I'll just say that without much more prelude, this blog if officially revived. I can smell the hatemail pouring to my inbox. Give me your best shot.
( If you are wondering why am I writing this in english, then I'll hve you know that all my entries will be the same. Yes, I'm showing off my english skills. Sue me. )
The Game.
Vader : Dude, are you emo?
Me : Wtflol
Vader : Your last entry is like...waaaaaaay emo and pretentious. Are you really that much of an asshole? Cuz it looks like you hate every human on the planet.
I came here, read my last entry and instantly remembered the night after the prom, where I got myself drunk with a single glass of beer and listened waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too many heavy metal.
See kiddies? Internet+Drunk = OMGDRAMAQUEENBAWWWWWW
So yeah, I'm not gonna erase the previous entry because really. it's just funny to see how much of a depressed twat I can be. Plus, shits and giggles. The internet is not serious business. Honestly, after Piero linked me to that '2 girls 1 cup video' I lost faith in humanity's capability of not doing weird shit.
Thank you Japan, bringing the world unbelievable wierd porn since 1946. And tentancles. Why the FUCK did it have to be tentacles?
Anyway, lost track of the issue at hand. I was reading through all of my old entries and had a couple of thoughts about how to revamp and update this shitfest I call 'blog'. One of my ideas was to make a war-like format, but I decided not to do it due to literary causes and lack of resources. Namely, because there's no Nazis for me to kill while riding atop a motorcycle with an open leather jacket and an oiled chest, rock music on the background as the hot busty blonde looks at the sheer amount of awesome in admiration. So yeah, no war journal. Then was the idea of making this into a Slenderman ARG journal but then I realized that :
1) I'd need special effects.
2) This is Peru. Nobody knows who the fuck is Slenderman.
3) The few people who DO know who is Slenderman are probably Piero and other 4chan oldfags.
5)4chan is NOT a good place to know if you plan on having a life.
4) The sum of the last 3 reasons will be an obvious impediment to getting laid if a chick from college finds this.
Also, I do NOT plan to turn this into a diary journal. So if you want to read about my daily life, try actually using msn. Yes, it still exists. Yes, it is better than Facebook. Which brings me to my next point :
IF you plan to have any amount of privacy in your life, don't use Facebook.
Sure, people will brand you as an outtaded nolife but in the end I consider having my private life kept to myself and my close bros more important than gaining the approval of people who will probably etiquette you on that embarrassing picture of you without a shirt on, taking a dump on a pool while completely drunk, thus causing your mom, dad, brothers, sisters, friends and stalkers to know that you really can't manage your alcohol because you so thoughtless added them without thinking about the gaping hole of privacy you just unleashed. Yes, it has happened. No, it wasn't me in the picture.
I was the one who took the picture. Yes, I'm a heartless bastard when I want to. ( insert lightning and bats here ). And no, untagging yourself isn't going to stop it from becoming a meme. And there's ALWAYS tha nasty wasty friend who posts embarrassing shit you don't want anyone to see.
I'm looking at you, Fernando.
SO, to finish this rant, I'll just say that without much more prelude, this blog if officially revived. I can smell the hatemail pouring to my inbox. Give me your best shot.
( If you are wondering why am I writing this in english, then I'll hve you know that all my entries will be the same. Yes, I'm showing off my english skills. Sue me. )
The Game.
lunes, 7 de diciembre de 2009
Esto es una fiesta...¿de locos?
Son las 1:24 de la mañana cuando empiezo a escribir. Acabo de regresar de la fiesta de promoción. O mejore dicho la fiesta de un grupo de 7 y los otros 19 que tienen qu ir para no pasar roche. Somos 27 en mi salón. Ahora, 7+19 = 26 : ¿cual es el 27?
Yo
Voy porque ya había tomado una decisión, una conclusión, y fui para confirmarla. Fui con Claudia, una amiga que no le gusta bailar, nos la pasamos conversando. Bueno, en realidad ella llamaba a su enamorado y yo me dedicaba a observar a los chicos intentando comportarse como hombres ( cosa que asocian con tomar y perrear ) y a las chicas intentando bailar o parecer bonitas ( que para ellas es ponerse vestidos pequeños cuyo único objetivo real es hacer de la persona que lo use un objeto de deseo, no lucir el vestido ).
Me pregunto si de veras están allí para cumplir el objetivo de una fiesta de promoción: Disfrutar la última fiesta entre compañeros de escuela, como tales.
La obvia respuesta es no, ya nadie lo hace. Todos van con un objetivo personal. Para unas es una oportunidad para tomar, una fiesta más que añadir en su lista. Para unos es la última oportunidad de decirle algo importante a alguien importante. Para otros es la oportunidad de tirarse de una vez a "la" chica, pues se va a emborrachar sí o sí. Incluso muestran con orgullo los condones que han comprado para el gran día.
Veo lo que veo en todas las fiestas, lo que pasa alrededor del mundo al mismo tiempo con diferentes personas : sobrecarga de hormonas, movimiento, musica, una satisfaccion de momento.
Y yo me quedo sentado, conversando, mirando a aquellos arlequines bailando en su propio juego de marionetas, como si bailaran para mi entretenimiento. Y lo que mas me divierte es que puedo ver claramente lo que estan pensando, su gloria, sus chicas, los aplausos, el que da mas, la que da mas, las que llegan en limusina o con los vestidos mas atrevidos, todos ellos buscando satisfacerse, esos son los que mas me divierten. Son sus propios payasos porque ni ellos mismos creen en lo que hacen, les guste o no, saben que tarde o temprano la belleza se va, que gastaron dinero en un lujo de 10 minutos.
No bailé en toda la fiesta de promocion, y no me he perdido de nada que no pudiera experimentar si me metiera en cualquier otra fiesta de muchachos de 16 años. Ellos no tienen nada que ofrecerme y yo no les ofreceria nada.
Confirmé mi teoría : No soy como ellos, nunca quise y nunca seré como ellos. No pertenezco a su pequeño mundo que los gobierna.
Yo gobierno mi unvierso.
Claudia se fue a las 12, le di un collar de regalo, no solo porque me cae bien, no solo por acompañarme , sino porque algun dia recordara lo que le dije en aquella fiesta y se dara cuenta de que lo que hice o no hice, me fue util. Yo manipulo, yo utilizo, y no me remuerde la conciencia.
Son la 1:48 cuando escribo esto. A las 8 tengo un examen internacional en el Británico, un examen que me abrirá las puertas a ese mundo que yo domino y que espera ser dominado. Y se preguntarán
¿Si eres tan racional como dices, que haces despierto y no durmiendo o estudiando?
Caballeros. ¿Donde esta lo divertido de la conquista si no en el goce del proceso?
Yo
Voy porque ya había tomado una decisión, una conclusión, y fui para confirmarla. Fui con Claudia, una amiga que no le gusta bailar, nos la pasamos conversando. Bueno, en realidad ella llamaba a su enamorado y yo me dedicaba a observar a los chicos intentando comportarse como hombres ( cosa que asocian con tomar y perrear ) y a las chicas intentando bailar o parecer bonitas ( que para ellas es ponerse vestidos pequeños cuyo único objetivo real es hacer de la persona que lo use un objeto de deseo, no lucir el vestido ).
Me pregunto si de veras están allí para cumplir el objetivo de una fiesta de promoción: Disfrutar la última fiesta entre compañeros de escuela, como tales.
La obvia respuesta es no, ya nadie lo hace. Todos van con un objetivo personal. Para unas es una oportunidad para tomar, una fiesta más que añadir en su lista. Para unos es la última oportunidad de decirle algo importante a alguien importante. Para otros es la oportunidad de tirarse de una vez a "la" chica, pues se va a emborrachar sí o sí. Incluso muestran con orgullo los condones que han comprado para el gran día.
Veo lo que veo en todas las fiestas, lo que pasa alrededor del mundo al mismo tiempo con diferentes personas : sobrecarga de hormonas, movimiento, musica, una satisfaccion de momento.
Y yo me quedo sentado, conversando, mirando a aquellos arlequines bailando en su propio juego de marionetas, como si bailaran para mi entretenimiento. Y lo que mas me divierte es que puedo ver claramente lo que estan pensando, su gloria, sus chicas, los aplausos, el que da mas, la que da mas, las que llegan en limusina o con los vestidos mas atrevidos, todos ellos buscando satisfacerse, esos son los que mas me divierten. Son sus propios payasos porque ni ellos mismos creen en lo que hacen, les guste o no, saben que tarde o temprano la belleza se va, que gastaron dinero en un lujo de 10 minutos.
No bailé en toda la fiesta de promocion, y no me he perdido de nada que no pudiera experimentar si me metiera en cualquier otra fiesta de muchachos de 16 años. Ellos no tienen nada que ofrecerme y yo no les ofreceria nada.
Confirmé mi teoría : No soy como ellos, nunca quise y nunca seré como ellos. No pertenezco a su pequeño mundo que los gobierna.
Yo gobierno mi unvierso.
Claudia se fue a las 12, le di un collar de regalo, no solo porque me cae bien, no solo por acompañarme , sino porque algun dia recordara lo que le dije en aquella fiesta y se dara cuenta de que lo que hice o no hice, me fue util. Yo manipulo, yo utilizo, y no me remuerde la conciencia.
Son la 1:48 cuando escribo esto. A las 8 tengo un examen internacional en el Británico, un examen que me abrirá las puertas a ese mundo que yo domino y que espera ser dominado. Y se preguntarán
¿Si eres tan racional como dices, que haces despierto y no durmiendo o estudiando?
Caballeros. ¿Donde esta lo divertido de la conquista si no en el goce del proceso?
viernes, 23 de octubre de 2009
(inserte título pretencioso aquí)
Listen, if a book is going to give me night terrors right out of a Freud textbook involving me running through a Stockholm red-light district being chased by ravenous toothed genitalia all wanting me to pay them for the privilege of devouring me alive, you have to fucking tell me.
No tengo mucho que escribir hoy
No he pensado mucho hoy
Excepto en lo que dejo atrás
Mi alma
Mi cuerpo
Ella
Y sin embargo tan bello, todo cae en su lugar. El tablero y las fichas. El rey no puede esperar que sus peones peleen sin estar el a la cabeza. Pero el juego está mal, está mal.
Algo falla
Por qué para empezar es esto un juego? La tercera persona e la que experimento todo me irrita. Donde ellos ven risa, yo leo gestos. Lo que a ellos les es indispensable a mi me estorba.
Sociópata?
Absolutamente. Pero es en realidad un defecto ver el "sistema"? El mecanismo intrincado de la razón humana es descifrable, y sin embargo tan bello, tan...
manipulable
Y luego me pregunto por que no soy sociable. Pero claro, a la gente no le gusta ser vista desde un microscopio
**************
????: I believe in something greater than myself. A better world. A world without sin.
??: So me and mine gotta lay down and die... so you can live in your better world?
????: I'm not going to live there. There's no place for me there... any more than there is for you... I'm a monster. What I do is evil. I have no illusions about it, but it must be done.
**************
Yo si creo que el fin justifica los medios. Intentar hacer que los medios no conlleven efectos colaterales es bondadoso, sin embargo no se debe acostumbrar uno a recibir ese tipo de bondad siempre.
El mundo está podrido. El mal es el bien, pero podrido. Y sin embargo todos somos buenas personas, deseamos serlo.
Rossieu tenía razón.
O no?
********
"I wanted to know about the messiah- the one who appears out of nowhere and saves the world. Except sometimes he doesn't. All those times in history when there was no sign of him. I wanted to know why not. But I don't need to ask anymore. I know the answer now. Sometimes, God must look at this world and turn away in shame."
**************
No tengo mucho que escribir hoy
No he pensado mucho hoy
Excepto en lo que dejo atrás
Mi alma
Mi cuerpo
Ella
Y sin embargo tan bello, todo cae en su lugar. El tablero y las fichas. El rey no puede esperar que sus peones peleen sin estar el a la cabeza. Pero el juego está mal, está mal.
Algo falla
Por qué para empezar es esto un juego? La tercera persona e la que experimento todo me irrita. Donde ellos ven risa, yo leo gestos. Lo que a ellos les es indispensable a mi me estorba.
Sociópata?
Absolutamente. Pero es en realidad un defecto ver el "sistema"? El mecanismo intrincado de la razón humana es descifrable, y sin embargo tan bello, tan...
manipulable
Y luego me pregunto por que no soy sociable. Pero claro, a la gente no le gusta ser vista desde un microscopio
**************
????: I believe in something greater than myself. A better world. A world without sin.
??: So me and mine gotta lay down and die... so you can live in your better world?
????: I'm not going to live there. There's no place for me there... any more than there is for you... I'm a monster. What I do is evil. I have no illusions about it, but it must be done.
**************
Yo si creo que el fin justifica los medios. Intentar hacer que los medios no conlleven efectos colaterales es bondadoso, sin embargo no se debe acostumbrar uno a recibir ese tipo de bondad siempre.
El mundo está podrido. El mal es el bien, pero podrido. Y sin embargo todos somos buenas personas, deseamos serlo.
Rossieu tenía razón.
O no?
********
"I wanted to know about the messiah- the one who appears out of nowhere and saves the world. Except sometimes he doesn't. All those times in history when there was no sign of him. I wanted to know why not. But I don't need to ask anymore. I know the answer now. Sometimes, God must look at this world and turn away in shame."
**************
domingo, 11 de octubre de 2009
Al final del Éxodo, un Génesis
Otro milagro, se me ocurre usar mi blog, el cual uso creo que una vez cada 5 meses a lo más.
A las puertas de acabar 5to, a las puertas del final, uno goza de GRAN perspectiva de su pasado. Las caras, los hechos...todo aquello que fue oculto finalmente sale a la luz y pasa con una violencia terrorífica frente a mis ojos. Todo mi mundo, mi mundo perfectamente calculado, controlado y sometido se vuelve trizas ante el hecho de que ignoré detalles, omití cosas y ahora veo que el resultado final es la realidad que yo mismo fabriqué.
De una manera u otra, yo hice mi propia suerte.
Yo creo en la existencia de Dios, pero hace poco escuché la frase : " ¿Quién es Dios? cuando tú deseas algo con toda tu alma, Dios es el que te ignora". Y bueno, me sentí atraído por esa frase. Porque sólo una persona UNA persona en este mundo aparte de mí conoce todo lo que he sufrido, a veces en publico, a veces silenciosamente, y mi lo unico que me mantenía era esa sonrisa que me permite ver las cosas sin pesismismo.
Francamente no sé de donde sale esa sonrisa, pero le agradezco ello a Dios, al menos tengo una herramienta más que usar.
Le vida para mí es muy similar a un tablero de ajedrez. Y el sólo hecho de verme a mí manejando la piezas y no como una revela mi...soberbia? no lo sé quizá sea que en realidad todos queremos vernos al mando del tablero pero la realidad es que en la vida existen "Los que manipulan" y "los manipulados". Uno está en constante trancisión de un estado al otro, pero el arte consiste en saber identificar el estado actual.
Saber manipular y saber cuando ser manipulado.
"El fin justifica los medios" yo creo que sí. Los medios deben ser los que contengan menos efectos colaterales, pero a veces uno debe tomar decisiones. Y esas decisiones son más valiosas cuando nadie las aprueba, y deben ser tomadas. Y son tomadas, y luego el que decidió recibe el peso de su propia elección.
Cuántas veces te he protegido, me he sacrificado sin que tu lo supieras. No lo sabrás jamás.
La gente es muy egoísta, yo también lo soy. Pocos haces sacrificios privados, pocos cargan pesos en silencio. Incluso Cristo tuvo un público al cargar la cruz. Si sólo hubiera subido al monte sin que nadie lo viera, quizás hoy le tendríamos en menos estima.
Porque la gente juzga lo que ve.
Porque cuando una persona deja una impresión, pocos son los que se acercan a conocer, pocos se formulan preguntas. El ladrón es apresado, más no investigado. A uno le preguntan "cómo te llamas" nunca "como eres". Y francamente me importa un carajo que me digan vela verde. Creo que mi mala reputación la construí yo mismo. Me parece lícito que ahora pague mis errores.
Pero no me tomen por idiota.
Al final, al final de mi viaje por el colegio miro atrás y veo lo que dejo. Veo a personas que pudieron haber sido mis amigos. Veo oportunidades explotadas. Veo peones y alfiles. Veo cómo un sólo movimiento en falso cambió mi mapa. Las sonrisas de mis amigos, mis amigos del alma, lo pocos y buenos y verdaderos que tengo. Y veo las sonrisas de lástima y las sonrisas, las malditas sonrisas hipócritas de algunas personas.
Dicen que perdonar es olvidar. Yo perdono fácilmente, porque no me sirve de nada no hacerlo. Pero por alguna razón jamás olvido. Nombres, fechas, hechos, todo, todo en un expediente mental que no logro borrar. Pero eso no importa. No gurado rencor más que a una sola persona en toda la lista.
Cúantas veces estuvieron ahí amigos, gracias por estar ahí cuando los necesité más.
Y ahora en pocos meses algunos se irán lejos. Sólo extrañaré a mis amigos. A la mayoría, a la gran mayoría no. Y creo que me irá mucho mejor sin ellos y su prescencia. Porque cuando ellos creen que me vacilan, yo veo, yo siempre veo. Y estos ojos ven detrás de sus acciones y palabras.
"Se muestra desconfiado y perspicaz con las personas. Muestra gran potencial analítico y lógico. Tiende a crear perfiles psicológicos en corto plazo"
Y bueno ese reporte psicológico me cagó con doble mojón, yo esperaba una manera más sutil de describirme pero bue...
Me despido de los chicos, los que me jodieron, los que me odiaron, los que me quisieron y los que me usaron.
Me despido de las chicas, las que amé, las que odié, las que me apoyaron, las que me destrozaron.
Me despido de mis profesores, los que me enseñaron que el colegio es un hogar, los que me enseñaron que las verdades se aprenden fuera del colegio, los buenos, los malos, los padres, las madres.
Me despido de mí mismo, de una etapa que no se acabará jamás,pues mi vida está llena de cabos sueltos pero me despido de un pasado que añoraré siempre, con todos sus matices tristes y felices, sus olores y sombras luminosas.
Gracias a todos. A los que odio y me odian, a los que amo y me aman, a los que me odian y yo amo y a los que yo odio y me aman. Gracias por su ternura, por su odio, por sus sonrisas o sus palabras.
Que el mundo sea destruido para que uno nuevo y perfecto se levante.
A Dios. Por todo.
Gracias.
A las puertas de acabar 5to, a las puertas del final, uno goza de GRAN perspectiva de su pasado. Las caras, los hechos...todo aquello que fue oculto finalmente sale a la luz y pasa con una violencia terrorífica frente a mis ojos. Todo mi mundo, mi mundo perfectamente calculado, controlado y sometido se vuelve trizas ante el hecho de que ignoré detalles, omití cosas y ahora veo que el resultado final es la realidad que yo mismo fabriqué.
De una manera u otra, yo hice mi propia suerte.
Yo creo en la existencia de Dios, pero hace poco escuché la frase : " ¿Quién es Dios? cuando tú deseas algo con toda tu alma, Dios es el que te ignora". Y bueno, me sentí atraído por esa frase. Porque sólo una persona UNA persona en este mundo aparte de mí conoce todo lo que he sufrido, a veces en publico, a veces silenciosamente, y mi lo unico que me mantenía era esa sonrisa que me permite ver las cosas sin pesismismo.
Francamente no sé de donde sale esa sonrisa, pero le agradezco ello a Dios, al menos tengo una herramienta más que usar.
Le vida para mí es muy similar a un tablero de ajedrez. Y el sólo hecho de verme a mí manejando la piezas y no como una revela mi...soberbia? no lo sé quizá sea que en realidad todos queremos vernos al mando del tablero pero la realidad es que en la vida existen "Los que manipulan" y "los manipulados". Uno está en constante trancisión de un estado al otro, pero el arte consiste en saber identificar el estado actual.
Saber manipular y saber cuando ser manipulado.
"El fin justifica los medios" yo creo que sí. Los medios deben ser los que contengan menos efectos colaterales, pero a veces uno debe tomar decisiones. Y esas decisiones son más valiosas cuando nadie las aprueba, y deben ser tomadas. Y son tomadas, y luego el que decidió recibe el peso de su propia elección.
Cuántas veces te he protegido, me he sacrificado sin que tu lo supieras. No lo sabrás jamás.
La gente es muy egoísta, yo también lo soy. Pocos haces sacrificios privados, pocos cargan pesos en silencio. Incluso Cristo tuvo un público al cargar la cruz. Si sólo hubiera subido al monte sin que nadie lo viera, quizás hoy le tendríamos en menos estima.
Porque la gente juzga lo que ve.
Porque cuando una persona deja una impresión, pocos son los que se acercan a conocer, pocos se formulan preguntas. El ladrón es apresado, más no investigado. A uno le preguntan "cómo te llamas" nunca "como eres". Y francamente me importa un carajo que me digan vela verde. Creo que mi mala reputación la construí yo mismo. Me parece lícito que ahora pague mis errores.
Pero no me tomen por idiota.
Al final, al final de mi viaje por el colegio miro atrás y veo lo que dejo. Veo a personas que pudieron haber sido mis amigos. Veo oportunidades explotadas. Veo peones y alfiles. Veo cómo un sólo movimiento en falso cambió mi mapa. Las sonrisas de mis amigos, mis amigos del alma, lo pocos y buenos y verdaderos que tengo. Y veo las sonrisas de lástima y las sonrisas, las malditas sonrisas hipócritas de algunas personas.
Dicen que perdonar es olvidar. Yo perdono fácilmente, porque no me sirve de nada no hacerlo. Pero por alguna razón jamás olvido. Nombres, fechas, hechos, todo, todo en un expediente mental que no logro borrar. Pero eso no importa. No gurado rencor más que a una sola persona en toda la lista.
Cúantas veces estuvieron ahí amigos, gracias por estar ahí cuando los necesité más.
Y ahora en pocos meses algunos se irán lejos. Sólo extrañaré a mis amigos. A la mayoría, a la gran mayoría no. Y creo que me irá mucho mejor sin ellos y su prescencia. Porque cuando ellos creen que me vacilan, yo veo, yo siempre veo. Y estos ojos ven detrás de sus acciones y palabras.
"Se muestra desconfiado y perspicaz con las personas. Muestra gran potencial analítico y lógico. Tiende a crear perfiles psicológicos en corto plazo"
Y bueno ese reporte psicológico me cagó con doble mojón, yo esperaba una manera más sutil de describirme pero bue...
Me despido de los chicos, los que me jodieron, los que me odiaron, los que me quisieron y los que me usaron.
Me despido de las chicas, las que amé, las que odié, las que me apoyaron, las que me destrozaron.
Me despido de mis profesores, los que me enseñaron que el colegio es un hogar, los que me enseñaron que las verdades se aprenden fuera del colegio, los buenos, los malos, los padres, las madres.
Me despido de mí mismo, de una etapa que no se acabará jamás,pues mi vida está llena de cabos sueltos pero me despido de un pasado que añoraré siempre, con todos sus matices tristes y felices, sus olores y sombras luminosas.
Gracias a todos. A los que odio y me odian, a los que amo y me aman, a los que me odian y yo amo y a los que yo odio y me aman. Gracias por su ternura, por su odio, por sus sonrisas o sus palabras.
Que el mundo sea destruido para que uno nuevo y perfecto se levante.
A Dios. Por todo.
Gracias.
jueves, 2 de julio de 2009
Cuídate Claudia , cuando estés conmigo...
VINO A VISITAR EL COLEGIO JOSE LUIS MEJÍA, EL AUTOR DE UNO DE MIS LIBROS FAVORITOS, HASTA ME DIO UN AUTOGRAFO, EL PATA NO ES UNO DE ESOS ESCRITORES SECOS, NADA QUE VER, ME CAYO MUY BIEN,DE HECHO DEBI HABERLE PEDIDO SU MESSENGER XD.
AH SI, ESCRIBO EN MAYUSCULAS HASTA QUE SE ME ACABE LA EUforia...
bueno ya, boté mi carga de excitacion ( no ).
Bueno retomando, José Luis Mejía ( Pepe Lucho, como le dicen Obama y Blastián ). Fue a eso de las 9:30 am, me habian dado unos sopapos entre varios para parar mis gritos de "VIENEJOSELUISMEJIAVIENEJOSELUISMEJIAAAAAAAHH!!!" en notas altas, con voz de mujer y pa colmo chillando. Despues del rodillazo en los bohues que me dió Foxy ( oh como yo le digo, captain smartass ) ahi recien reaccioné y me calme...un poco. Llegó el pata, y debo confesar que me esperaba algún flaquito con lentes, algo pintoncito ( mff ) pero medio timidon tirando pa benevolo. En su lugar me encontre con un hombre de mas o menos 35, sin gafas, con algunos kilos de mas pero con una personalidad de ( como diria jaime bayly ) la puta madre.
Se notaba que este tipo no solo sabia de lo que hablaba, sino que también lo mejoraba, tenia una buena idea de como hacer para que el lector sintiera que, como y cuando.
Y bueno, el post se trata basicamente de contar eso, pero por cierto no me olvido de recordarles que visiten www.chucknorrisfacts.com , y se unan a una religion que cada dia crece mas.
CHEESE + JESUS = CHEESUS
PD: el titulo de este post es el nombre del libro, comprenlo pe, y no les voy a contar ni mierda de la trama, ni lo intenten 8D
AH SI, ESCRIBO EN MAYUSCULAS HASTA QUE SE ME ACABE LA EUforia...
bueno ya, boté mi carga de excitacion ( no ).
Bueno retomando, José Luis Mejía ( Pepe Lucho, como le dicen Obama y Blastián ). Fue a eso de las 9:30 am, me habian dado unos sopapos entre varios para parar mis gritos de "VIENEJOSELUISMEJIAVIENEJOSELUISMEJIAAAAAAAHH!!!" en notas altas, con voz de mujer y pa colmo chillando. Despues del rodillazo en los bohues que me dió Foxy ( oh como yo le digo, captain smartass ) ahi recien reaccioné y me calme...un poco. Llegó el pata, y debo confesar que me esperaba algún flaquito con lentes, algo pintoncito ( mff ) pero medio timidon tirando pa benevolo. En su lugar me encontre con un hombre de mas o menos 35, sin gafas, con algunos kilos de mas pero con una personalidad de ( como diria jaime bayly ) la puta madre.
Se notaba que este tipo no solo sabia de lo que hablaba, sino que también lo mejoraba, tenia una buena idea de como hacer para que el lector sintiera que, como y cuando.
Y bueno, el post se trata basicamente de contar eso, pero por cierto no me olvido de recordarles que visiten www.chucknorrisfacts.com , y se unan a una religion que cada dia crece mas.
CHEESE + JESUS = CHEESUS
PD: el titulo de este post es el nombre del libro, comprenlo pe, y no les voy a contar ni mierda de la trama, ni lo intenten 8D
martes, 5 de mayo de 2009
Me enchufé a Marcel
Si
Marcel fue ensartado por mí, el legendario 3 al hilo y sin sacarla.
Bueno, ya cumplí,ves Marcel te dije que lo iba aponer en el blog.
y...si.
Marcel fue ensartado por mí, el legendario 3 al hilo y sin sacarla.
Bueno, ya cumplí,ves Marcel te dije que lo iba aponer en el blog.
y...si.
jueves, 9 de abril de 2009
QUE EL UNIVERSO GRITE EN DESESPERACIÓN: HE VUELTO!!!! >:D
MESES Y MESES SIN ESCRIBIR UNA PALABRA, PERO AHORA, EN SEMANA TRANCA,LA AMENAZA REGRESA...
Ok al punto.
Estos meses he experimentado cambios radicales, así que cuando leo mis entradas anteriores, me cago de risa al pensar que el autor de semejantes pedos literarios fui yo. Durante las vacaciones asistí a un curso de teatro que incluía esgrima y AMÉ TANTO LA ESGRIMA QUE ME VOY A COMPRAR UNA ESPADA 8D. (qué, matar gente es la vocación del ser humano por excelencia ¬¬).
He dejado que el mundo descanse de mi constante asedio, ahora el mundo se lo está cargando Hugo Chávez asi que meh...
Durante ese curso conocí muchos amigos nuevos. Entre ellos destacan : "Miguelito rómpela", "Vader" y "Bulma". Vader es el hijo del dios del heavy metal y Bulma es...
...
Bueno no jodan, para ser honesto es como una copia de mí sólo que en tierna, adorable, otaku e hiperactiva.
Ah sí, al parecer le gusta el Yaoi ¬¬.
Es entendible, a los hombres las lesbianas sexys nos ponen en posición de firmes también. Una vez una amiga me preguntó
-¿Por qué a los hombres les gustan las lesbianas?
Mi respuesta fue
-Por la misma razon por la que las mujeres les gustan los gays. Los Jonas Brothers por ejemplo.
AAAAAHH LOS JODAS BRODERS!!!!!!!Y PARA COLMO SE ME MALOGRA EL LANZAGRANADAS JUSTO HACE UNA SEMANA!!!
Yo estaba todo tranquilo en teleticket comprando mis entradas para ver a Andrea Bocceli cuando un estruendo mezcla de estampida, orgasmo múltiple y mocosas chillonas invadió el lugar. Una estampida de babosas llegaba a comprar sus entradas para ver a los hermanitos de mierda, y para colmo de concha, desintegraron la fila.2 horas después, con intervención de seguridad, volví a la fila.
Me informaron que las últimas entradas buenas se las acababan de llevar, y que solo quedaban las muy caras o las más baratas (o sea al fondo ¬¬).
Ahí empezó mi complot de asesinato.
Por cierto, el otro día estaba tranquilo en la camioneta de mi movilidad, no habia nadie cerca.De pronto entra Gothelli, el vampiro pederasta de mi salón y se me tira encima. Después de un momento de forcejeo, me di cuenta que 3 botones de mi camisa estaban desabrochados."oye, aguanta me estas desvistiendo!".""Ya sé"".
Y pasó lo que pasa en prisión del estado cuando se te cae el jabón en las duchas.
El autor de este chifa tiene su blog :www.pieroescribe.blogspot.com
Debo reconocer que escribe muy bien.
Y que tiene una piel muy suave U.U
Muy bien, ahora que la anécdota gay del día está hecha, prosigamos.
Mi regreso al salón de clases fue tal y como lo preví: ni mierda.cero.aburrido.Eso sí, descubrí que me gustan los videojuegos survival horror.
DEAD SPACE: DISMEMBERMENT ES MEJOR QUE RESIDENT EVIL 5!!!!!!!>-<
También aprendí cosas útiles, como por ejemplo ahora ya no tengo problemas para interactuar con las mujeres.
Ahora el preoblema es con los hombres.
Por alguna razón, al adquirir conocimientos de cómo socializar con el sexo opesto, mis niveles de testosterona han bajado, y se produce el llamado "efecto Bayly".
La gente discrimina a los genios, y para ver si estás en riesgo...
Muuuy bien, ahora llegamos al punto en el que te cuestionas si debes seguir leyendo o salir a youtube a buscar videos de naruto, el bananero o que megd fuere...el punto es que lo que parace no que no parece, deja de parecer lo que es.Mas lo que parece lo que no es, es ( según parece ),un ser parecido, al parecer.
Si no entendiste nada de lo anterior, no te preocupes, sigue nomás en tu facebook. Pero si entendiste cada palabra hasta las últimas consecuencias, eres de los nuestros.
Aaah bueno, sólo resta dar los datos personales actualizados y ya.
Por cierto, si van a youtube vean los videos del Nostalgia Critic.
CHEESE + JESUS = CHEESUS
Ok al punto.
Estos meses he experimentado cambios radicales, así que cuando leo mis entradas anteriores, me cago de risa al pensar que el autor de semejantes pedos literarios fui yo. Durante las vacaciones asistí a un curso de teatro que incluía esgrima y AMÉ TANTO LA ESGRIMA QUE ME VOY A COMPRAR UNA ESPADA 8D. (qué, matar gente es la vocación del ser humano por excelencia ¬¬).
He dejado que el mundo descanse de mi constante asedio, ahora el mundo se lo está cargando Hugo Chávez asi que meh...
Durante ese curso conocí muchos amigos nuevos. Entre ellos destacan : "Miguelito rómpela", "Vader" y "Bulma". Vader es el hijo del dios del heavy metal y Bulma es...
...
Bueno no jodan, para ser honesto es como una copia de mí sólo que en tierna, adorable, otaku e hiperactiva.
Ah sí, al parecer le gusta el Yaoi ¬¬.
Es entendible, a los hombres las lesbianas sexys nos ponen en posición de firmes también. Una vez una amiga me preguntó
-¿Por qué a los hombres les gustan las lesbianas?
Mi respuesta fue
-Por la misma razon por la que las mujeres les gustan los gays. Los Jonas Brothers por ejemplo.
AAAAAHH LOS JODAS BRODERS!!!!!!!Y PARA COLMO SE ME MALOGRA EL LANZAGRANADAS JUSTO HACE UNA SEMANA!!!
Yo estaba todo tranquilo en teleticket comprando mis entradas para ver a Andrea Bocceli cuando un estruendo mezcla de estampida, orgasmo múltiple y mocosas chillonas invadió el lugar. Una estampida de babosas llegaba a comprar sus entradas para ver a los hermanitos de mierda, y para colmo de concha, desintegraron la fila.2 horas después, con intervención de seguridad, volví a la fila.
Me informaron que las últimas entradas buenas se las acababan de llevar, y que solo quedaban las muy caras o las más baratas (o sea al fondo ¬¬).
Ahí empezó mi complot de asesinato.
Por cierto, el otro día estaba tranquilo en la camioneta de mi movilidad, no habia nadie cerca.De pronto entra Gothelli, el vampiro pederasta de mi salón y se me tira encima. Después de un momento de forcejeo, me di cuenta que 3 botones de mi camisa estaban desabrochados."oye, aguanta me estas desvistiendo!".""Ya sé"".
Y pasó lo que pasa en prisión del estado cuando se te cae el jabón en las duchas.
El autor de este chifa tiene su blog :www.pieroescribe.blogspot.com
Debo reconocer que escribe muy bien.
Y que tiene una piel muy suave U.U
Muy bien, ahora que la anécdota gay del día está hecha, prosigamos.
Mi regreso al salón de clases fue tal y como lo preví: ni mierda.cero.aburrido.Eso sí, descubrí que me gustan los videojuegos survival horror.
DEAD SPACE: DISMEMBERMENT ES MEJOR QUE RESIDENT EVIL 5!!!!!!!>-<
También aprendí cosas útiles, como por ejemplo ahora ya no tengo problemas para interactuar con las mujeres.
Ahora el preoblema es con los hombres.
Por alguna razón, al adquirir conocimientos de cómo socializar con el sexo opesto, mis niveles de testosterona han bajado, y se produce el llamado "efecto Bayly".
La gente discrimina a los genios, y para ver si estás en riesgo...
Muuuy bien, ahora llegamos al punto en el que te cuestionas si debes seguir leyendo o salir a youtube a buscar videos de naruto, el bananero o que megd fuere...el punto es que lo que parace no que no parece, deja de parecer lo que es.Mas lo que parece lo que no es, es ( según parece ),un ser parecido, al parecer.
Si no entendiste nada de lo anterior, no te preocupes, sigue nomás en tu facebook. Pero si entendiste cada palabra hasta las últimas consecuencias, eres de los nuestros.
Aaah bueno, sólo resta dar los datos personales actualizados y ya.
Por cierto, si van a youtube vean los videos del Nostalgia Critic.
CHEESE + JESUS = CHEESUS
martes, 30 de diciembre de 2008
Cuando a uno lo mandan a la mierda, es mejor no ir
En las primeras etapas del oscurantismo religioso (o sea desde que Dios inventó a Moisés hasta que Rusia inventó a los curitas de izquierda )los sacerdotes se tomaron tan a pecho su labor proselitista que combateron la falta de fé con abundancia de fa.
Que es la nota musical con la que se grita de dolor.
El principal problema era que, básicamente, los ateos se negaban a creer en la santisima trinidad ( el cura, su sobrina y su alcancía )y entonces en viril respuesta la iglesia católica creó uno de los métodos de tortura por excelencia:el empalamiento.
Dicho método consiste en atar al agraciado con un viajecito al más allá ,ponerlo en posición de pollito tomando agua del río y engrasarle previamente el hoyo en cuestión para facilitar el trámite.
Entonces el respetable clérigo pregunta, al tiempo que suavemente, casi con ternura desliza un palo dentro dentro de dicho hoyo.
-"¿Hay Dios?"
-¡¡¡AAAAAAYYYYYY!!!!-replica el candidato a converso.
Atónito ante tal súbita conversión, el cura procede a preguntar de nuevo empujando alguito más.
-"¿Hay Dios?"
-¡¡¡¡AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!-exclama el converso, y sin saberlo queda escrito en los registros del Papa, quien al parecer no tiene menor cuidado de la correcta interpretación fonética.
-¡Se ha convertido!Hossana,Hossana...
Ahora con esto no digo que hay que desacreditar a el cristianismo.La iglesia y una fé tienen poco o nada que ver ( aparte la Biblia no la escribió un solo viejito sino varios, y alguna experiencia debían tener porque las canas no salen por las huevas )
En mi opinión Dios hizo un gran favor a la humanidad cuando frustró la construcciónde la torre de Babel ( de esa vaina de llegar al cielo con una construcción no iba a salir nada bueno, aparte que en esa época no existían las estufas, y entre la altura, el frío y Osama que se iba bajar esa torre como hobby,la historia sería aún mas ridícula de lo que ya es ), porque el lenguaje nacional que de ese hecho derivó contribuye a una historia personal que nosotros podemos crear.
Por ejemplo en Birmania flor se dice culo
Y los Birmanos viven felices de la vida.
Pero hay que saber cuando y donde usar dichos conocimientos porque cuando estuve de infiltrado en una fiesta de Universidad, el lenguaje que utilizara me fue útil en la interaccion con los alumnos y alumnas.
Estuve una semana entre ellos, viendo sus clases, visitando sus cafés, durmiendo en sus cuartos, y por lamentable incidente de mala comunicación casi acabo durmiendo con el decano Rossenworth.
Aunque el hombre tiene las manos de un doctor de cárcel.
Pero bueno, una de las cosas que se van aprendiendo es que en realidad es mas fácil asumir algo que cambiarlo.Hay cosas que sí se deben cambiar y otras que no.Por ejemplo yo no entiendo el afán de las estrellas de operarse y reducirse la edad porque ahora más parecen un tejido paracas que los jóvenes que deseaban volver a ser.
Tía Brenda, esto va para ti.Eres una mujer muy agradable, pero no se supone que tengas un exoesqueleto a menos que seas un escarabajo.
Y una última recomendación : manténganse fuera de la política amigos, pues corren el riesgo de caer en manos de Martha Hildebrant.Esta es una mujer que se puede parar al costado de Hitler y los gringos dirían "Who's the bitch?".
A un día de Año nuevo,a las 11:00 am sentado frente a mi computadora, muchas preguntas invaden mi cabeza.
Pero eso está bien, pues hacerse preguntas es el arte de soñar.Responderlas es el arte de matar ilusiones."no es que la tortuga sea lenta, es que no quiere ir..." me dice mi cerebro.
"¡sí quiere ir sino que no le dijeron a dónde!" le respondo yo enérgicamente.Y así me amanezco discutiendo conmigo, porque últimamente padezco de insomnio ( que es cuando el terco de mi cerebro insiste que es de día ).
Concluyo con la siguiente frase célebre, que cada uno puede interpretar a su antojo.
Giggity Gigitty Goo
miércoles, 24 de diciembre de 2008
Merry X-mas
Estoy empijamado,despeinado,no he comido nada desde....no he comido.Acabo de ver esa pelicula con Jack Black,Cameron Díaz,un patita ingles ke no me acuerdo su nombre(creo ke es el de la pelicula de “Alfie el seductor”)y una tipa ke salió en Titanic. Hoy no tomé mi ducha diaria,y al estar con una infección a la garganta,no he salido de la casa,y ahora,9:25pm,me la paso viendo videos en youtube (por cierto,tienen que ver Chocolate Rain,ese niño es un BRUJO O.O...y Captain Disillution es una gran ayuda para los imbéciles que creen que bush es controlado por aliens,o en videos de fantasmas).
Como ya habrán deducido,no estoy en mi mejor forma,pues Diciembre siempre deja un par de kilos como regalos de navidad extra.Claro.O sea porke los guatones del vaticano dicen que el retoño de papalindo nació en diciembre (MENTIRA:NACIÓ A FINALES DE MARZO.SI SE COMPARA EL CALENDARIO DE LA EPOCA CON EL ACTUAL,VERAN QUE TENGO RAZON),y como los reyes magos le dan oro,mirra,y opio(¿era opio no? o.-...¿y no que los magos se van al infierno porque la magia es pecado?????O.0),yo me tengo que encajar 4 semanas de ayuno por 7 segundos de placer?¿es que el estigma de el panetón, el pavo (no blastián, no hablo de ti) y el chocolate Wong me atormentarán toda mi vida?
¡¡¡¡UN MUNDO EN DONDE NO ME PUEDO ENCAJAR UN PEDAZO DE PANETON SIN OBTENER UN DOBLÉS EN EL CUELLO,ES UN MUNDO EN EL QUE NO QUIERO VIVIR!!!!¡¡¡¡ARRIBA FIDEL CARAJO!!!!
...
Lo siento,me salí del tema. Bueno,quería aprovechar este post, y el sentimiento de anonimato que el internet produce para atar unos cabos sueltos,no me gustaría pasar al 2009 sin resolver unas cuantas querellas.Es que si no lo hago ahora,cuando lo haga será muy tarde.
"el mejor momento de plantar un arbol fue hace un año.el segundo mejor momento es ahora"-un chino que no conozco
Primero,quisiera dedicar unas cuantas palabaras a Andy. Sí,la de los otros posts.
Contrario a lo que muchos piensan,yo no odio a la gente,ni siquiera con los que discuto.Primero porque del amor al odio hay solo un paso,y en esas huevadas mejor no me meto.Segundo, porque es algo inutil e improductivo,al igual que Tongo.
Andy, no voy a pedir darte una explicación.No voy a pedirte nada.Bueno un par de lucas,pero el proximo año. Eres libre de creer lo que quieras,nadie lo niega,pero yo creo que lo ke pasó despues,las acusaciones...eso estuvo de más a mi parecer.Primero,porque sacaste una vieja historia de nuevo a la luz.Segundo porque contaste lo que alguien (no me importa quien) te dijo.Tercero,tu también has visto una porno en tu vida,y me atrevería a decir más de una,pero no lo voy a decir porque respeto tu privacidad(y la de los/las que te acompañaron a verla).
No kiero hablar más del incidente.Kiero fingir que nunca pasó,que fue la alucinación matutina producto de fumarme una palmera con todo y naufrago,tu me entiendes.
Sabes,eres una de las pocas personas a las que respeto, porque tienes un cerebro muy activo,y a diferencia de otros LO USAS y a pesar que discutimos en el salón,disfruto esas tertulias públicas.Discutir contigo es casi un hobby,es que a veces no te das cuenta, pero la gente te provoca porque saben que eres reaccionaria , eres una chica llena de vitalidad,eres un cague de risa, y respecto a "eso" (si te conozco,sabes de lo que hablo),no te traumes,hay chicas que matarían por tener lo que tú,ten actitud y cuando te molesten, diles que tienes otro motivo por el que enorgullecerte.Te pido perdón por no tratarte como te mereces en el pasado,y por ser (a falta de sinonimo adecuado) un perfecto huevón.Lamento no haberme hecho tu amigo cuando pude,me di cuenta muy tarde...o quizá no.
Serás una abogada excelente,nadie lo duda.
...aunque recomendaría que no practiques con los profesores.te quita "charm",baja tu nota en conducta,y te parecer aquello que no eres.
una loca
... o quizá si lo eres,y el loco soy yo,y por eso no pienso que eres loca,por el efecto del espejo como reacción psicológica primaria.
Segundo,Ice Queen...no...Queen.lo de "Ice" ya no tiene sentido ahora que te conozco mejor,y veo que a pesar de lo que dicen algunos (y como tu eres tan perceptiva,yo sé que sabes),tu no eres una chica fria.eres inteligente,y tienes una personalidad avasalladora,casi intimidante,que algunos malinterpretan como frialdad. Pero a mi no me engañan.
Queen,que nadie te diga que hacer.Manda,guía,y dirige,eres una lider innata.Pero dirige bien pe,lo de el examen de 15 minutos no fue precisamente tu momento de gloria XD.Sigue tan aguda e inteligente como ahora,tu personalidad te precede, y sólo como extra…no soy tan estúpido como parezco ¬¬.
Ahora es el turno de Gothelli.
Aaahh…tantas cosas que podrí decir de mi vampiresco amigo…me ha servido de guía cuando mi cerebro no bastaba para solucionar un problema…siempre está ahí cuando pienso que no tengo ni un perro que me ladre…siempre incondicional a pesar de su narcisismo…Gothelli,eres el típico narcisista buena onda de todo equipo de superhéroes.
No debes temerle a Filososfía…no es una asignatura tan difícil de descifrar ;). Gracias por todos los sabios consejos que me diste cuando mas los necesitaba,pero eso si,alejate de las fiestas infantiles,y por favor bota ese DVD de comerciales de Huggies que te prestó tu socio Jackson ¬¬.
Y por favor,deja de aparecerte debajo de mi cama a las 12 de noche de luna llena.
Ahora le toca a Foxy.
Foxy,Foxy,Foxy…eres un individuo muy complejo,uno de los especimenes mas difñiciles que he tenido el…¿dolor?¿placer?....de conocer. Foxy,debes deshacerte de ese problema de autoestima YA.Tu personalidad es un cague de risa cuando no eres un ermitaño gruñón.No dejes que un par de complejos estúpidos arruinen tu vida social. Respecto a tus problemas…conectate al msn para hablar mejor. No dejes de dibujar simplemente porque te salen tetas grandes (no es nada de que avergonzarse,la mamá de Dexter tiene un par de triángulos XD), tú me enseñaste tanto…( ¡sau! )en serio Foxy,confía en ti mismo y no hagas drama de todo que Saddam Hussein la pasó peor que tú. Ah si,mis bolas estarían muy agradecidas si dejas de patearlas como deporte.
OPEN YOUR FUCKING HEART MAH DUDE!!!!!!!
Luego está Bruce.
Lee…ya dejate de cojudeces.
SABES que eres alto.SABES que eres inteligente a pesar de lo que parezca.SABES que le puedes sacar la mierda a cualquiera que se te ponga faltoso. Y SABES que ya es hora de que,de una vez por todas le digas que estás templado de ella desde que te enteraste de su existencia. No se si lo sabes,pero todo el lonsa (incluido ella) sabe que de tu enamoramiento,y al parecer el unico que ignora esta situación eres tu.
O eres un testarudo.Una de dos.
No intentes cabiar a la gente.Tampoco te digo que te dejes influenciar.Lo que digo es que aprecies los detalles,que no presiones.
The closer you get to something,the tougher it is to see it.
Ahora es el turno de Osclark.
Mira Osclark…debes empezar a sentirte mas seguro de ti mismo,y si vas a seguir viendo esas vainas…por lo menos no lo hagas publico porque hasta donde yo se,no es bueno para la reputacion. Te felicito por tu valor y personalidad (el dia que saliste a cantar , todos casi nos cagamos el pantalón de sorpresa ),y te agradezco por ser un amigo incondicional,por apoyarme aun cuando soy un perfecto atorrante(que puedo serlo),y en cuanto a tu entrada de conversación para msn…bueno,casi siempre toy escribiendo y soy asi con todos asi ke no te sientas mal =).
Y cortate el pelo desgraciado.
Y por ultimo pero no menos importante…Pitecantropus y Kira.
Pitecantropus…gracias por todo…eres un buen amigote,y si la gente te llega a conocer,detrás de esa cara de violador potencial y esos gestos de brontosaurio apareandose,llace un corazon de oro…eres uno de los gigantones de buen corazon que aparecen en las películas de disney channel. Si abres tu verdadera naturaleza,seras la locura de las chicas XD.
Y Kira….joto.
AH Casi me olvido de Happy y Obama Mis chocolate men….cuidense mucho que apenas se les caiga el jabon…mffff…. XDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXD Si me olvide de mencionar a alguien no es por ingrato sino que ya hace sueñito pe <.< Feliz Navidad y próspero Año Nuevo a todos…y el próximo año vuelvo recargado,corregido y aumentado!! … Es que no les voy a mentir…hasta mitad de este año mi personalidad aún estaba en Beta¬¬.
Buh-bye
CHEESE+JESUS=CHEESUS
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