I became a little bitch

Time to get serious for a moment.

Here's something that happened at work a couple weeks ago: I became a little bitch. I don't think I was totally in the wrong, though, but I feel that I might have over-reacted, so I want to share the story and get some opinions.

I'll start off by saying that I'm an atheist. I used to be Catholic, but then I discovered this thing called sin, which is a lot of fun, so I gave up on my faith and became a cat burglar. I quit when the price of cats dropped so low that there was no profit in it anymore, but that's another story for another post.

Anyways, I was just sitting in my cubicle, doing some work* and stuff, when co-worker A began talking to the person in the cubicle next to mine(co-worker B). She(co-worker A) asked B if he smoked, and when he said yes, she asked if he wanted to quit. He said it was hard to quit, so A said that she knew someone who could help. That person, of course, was Jesus.

I've had this same exact talk with her. She asked me if I smoked and all, same order of questioning, but I was also asked if I was Jewish. Can you get more WASP-ish than "Vanderbilt" ? I think not.

Well, A and B began to discuss religion. A loves God and shit(meaning she loves God and all that Christian stuff, not that she loves God AND loves shit), B decided to provoke her with stupid questions like "How do you know God exists? Really, how? I could be God!" She would then say, "Of course God exists. See that tree? That's proof." Idiot-talk. It was like she was trying for a conversion. This went on for like an hour. And I felt pretty uncomfortable. I don't know why, I guess the rules in my head just tell me that religion is an inappropriate discussion topic at work. Plus, I was constantly thinking of how I would argue every statement she made. But I let it go.

They finally ended the conversation, and I was relieved. Until it started up a couple hours later. This time, there were about 4 people standing and sitting around. It got worse, though, when co-worker A decided to show everyone how much she loved God by singing hymns. Right behind me. My gut reaction was to turn around and look her in the eyes. I have to state: I did not think this through; it just happened. She just smiled and said "What?" Everyone looked at me, and I don't blame them, since I had just abruptly swivelled around in my chair. I was on auto-pilot, though, and said in a plain voice...

"I don't think that's appropriate."

I saw co-worker A's eyes kind of go sad. I was asked to repeat what I said, and did, and then turned around to hide the heat radiating off of my red face. I had successfully killed the conversation, and I just had to be an asshole to do it.

But was I an asshole? I really feel it was an inappropriate subject considering the setting, and I was feeling uncomfortable. One hypothesis has been presented that I was trying to deflect the attention to the hymn-singer. I kind of see that, because my actions dictated that I had to say something in the moment, since my chair-twist turned all eyes on me. Could I have handled this another way?

This is all coming up now, because I have a new co-worker behind me who is playing a CD of trite gospel songs. Either that or she's a pothead, because I keep hearing the word "higher," over and over again. Now, I don't mind this as much as a person actually proselytizing and singing hymns, it just brought the prior incident to mind. Obviously, people have certain freedoms, like hanging bible quotes on their walls. I can't argue with that. One guy has a couple of construction paper things up that look like tablets, obviously made by his kid in bible school or something. One of them says, "What is it about 'thou shalt not' don't you understand? -- God". I'm glad someone finally found the Gospel of Rupaul, where God is all sassy and in your face. I think the other tablet said, "Thou shalt be fabulous -- God". This is also the book in the bible where God signs his quotes, like it's a high school yearbook.

I won't be an asshole this time. When she's at lunch, though, I might just have to steal the CD and turn it into a sandwich. And, if anyone's keeping track, this might be my first post that has more than 50% truth to it.

*Sudoku

Big Announcement

Greetings. Please accept my apologies for my absence over these past few weeks, as well as Madison's. The other guys, don't know what's up with them, but Madison and me have been very busy. Very very busy.

We actually have a big announcement that we can't share at the moment, or any foreseeable moment in the future. BUT, here are some possibilities*:

- We have cured cancer and AIDS, but also accidently created a new disease called caidser.
- We have been commissioned to write the sequel for Tuesdays with Morrie, entitled Wednesdays with Dracula. It's a bit of a departure from the first book.
- We have both been diagnosed with ED(eternal diahrrea). Not fun.
- I've lost the ability to love while Madison can't seemingly love enough. We're trying to find a happy medium.
- We created this. Best time of my life.
- We have discovered a new type of pornography that no one has ever thought of or seen, and which has the possibilty to tear the world apart. One hint: papercuts.

Maybe someday we'll be able to share the big news. If all goes well, hopefully in 8-9 months.

*By "possibilities," I mean "things that are not the announcement."

off dome pt. ?

Me name be shitface so swim in my spit
I borrow money from you and my name is split
Taped a banana in my pants to get you girl erogenous
Disrespected Lance Armstrong just to prove a hypothesis
We took drugs and tried to have a ball
I pushed you off the cliff and told you I would see you next fall
But this aint cartoonery you aint homer on skate board
I got hungry and ate Donkey Kong's entire banana hoard
The bran provided
got me excited
didn't have the strength to walk so I astroglided
over the Atlantic rocking a purple hat with gold crescent moons
I watch fantasia six times every third June
if you get my logical chain
you might have a decent sized brain
used for barter, I shit on the formal economy
I gave your girl a lobotomy
so now she sucks it abominablely
That means dissatisfaction, like the cheese on the floor
while heads snore
my golden liquid I pour
in your acne medication, you've never felt such a sensation
I gave you anal relations
using a sausage casing
It didn't keep the seamen in, but it sure tasted tasty
Get out and run miles so your guts not white and pasty
I win on the battlefield, go crawl back to Asia Minor
I wont hold on to your piece like my name was Ernest byner
its all you get for now so wipe with your hand
while you dance the horah to Ernest p whirls band

this weekend

Vandy and I made up this weekend! So I was in a certain tournament, a video game tournament. Well... let me set this up...

So I'm in the middle of this custody battle, right. About 4 years ago, right, I made a little shitface, right.

Now, it is my custom to have sex with a girl, right, 'and never call her back'. That's my steeze, right? I am a scumbag. Unfortunately, this one chick got pregnant, and she happened to be an associate of my cousin, right, Samantha scumbag, right. Just so you don't get it twisted, right, this whore and I made a kid in 2002.

For some reason, right, she absolved me from any financial responsibiliites, right. I was relieved, right, let me tell you, right. She said, "Shitface, I don't want my kid to know a shitface like yourself, right. Please take yourself out of my son's life, right, and your scumbag tainted money, right." JACKPOT, or so I thought, right.

During the last year sometime, right, little Shitface's momma choked to death, right, on the dick of yours truly, right. A custody battle followed these events, right. As what I think was revenge, right, she legally placed me in custody of 'our' child, right. I showed the courts , right, I was clearly unfit to be a father, right, being that I am quite a shitface, right. Logically, right, the late dick choker's father, right, would take over as the legal guardian, right. Unfortunately, it never worked out like that, right. We had a contest of scumbaggery to determine who was less fit to be, right, a parent, right. Unfortunately, right, this ended in a stale mate, right.

There was only one way out right right right right.... I needed the money to pay this dude off so he wouldn't force this shitface on me, right. He set his price, right, it was grand indeed, right. There was only one way to win the sum, right. I entered a marvel vs. capcom 2 tournament, right (A video game featuring comic book characters fighting video game characters). IT WAS A DOUBLE ELIMINATION TOURNAMENT!!! I went to my local gambling spot and placed my life earnings on my performance in this tournament right, IT WAS A DOUBLE ELIMINATION TOURNAMENT.

I was doing great, right. They were playing the theme song to the Delta Force, right (See Chuck Norris), and I was comboing like a mad man, right. All of sudden, right, I got a stomach cramp from eating too much bran, right. Hey a shitface gotta shit, right. I lost to some punk who had no skills, right. My spirits were down, right. So, I digoed a baked ham, and a turkey sandwich, right. I was ready to quit and take this shitface on, right, and then, the grandfather of little shitface made me an offer I couldn't refuse, right. He offered me a fully furbished right right right(arcade pizza and tokens) arcade, right, with all the 80's game I desired. I was like yes, I think I'll take it, right. Then the kid came out, right, and said something about eating, right. I said, "shit I didn't think, right, I had to feed this mother, right, fucka, right." And with that I stormed out, right, and did a, right, swan dive through a stained glass window, right, and continued with the tournament, right.

Fast forward to me in the finals, right, and this is where Vandy, right, stepped up his game, right, and showed what a true friend he really is, right,. I was down in the final ,right, match, right. I couldn't concentrate, right. This dude kept on spitting shit, right, about how clean I was, and how I could never pull this off, right.

At this moment, right, at my lowest of lows, right, Vandy come out of nowhere, right, and punched the perpetrator in the nuts, right, and proceeded to waft his man smell into my opponents, nose, right. No sooner that, it was over, right. I won the custody battle, right. I DON'T HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF THAT KID, right, and its all thanks to you Vandy, right. You are a true friend, right! Let's, right, eat, right, pizza, right, and, right, discuss, right, Solstice, right.

"A Shower a Day Keeps Molesters Away"

That's what my mom used to tell me. She said that child molesters didn't like clean boys, that they preferred dirty children with sticky hands and skinned knees. She doesn't know how wrong she was.

Quick fact about Madison: He only showers every other WEEKday. Don't even ask about weekends. No soap, no toothpaste, no deodorant. And has Madison Sinclair ever been molested? Not to my knowledge, and I think I'd know.

Looking back, I can see how my mom had things twisted. She was trying to give me sincere advice based on how she saw the world: sex equals dirty, therefore molesters, who pursue children as sexual objects, would rather a dirty child. Cleanliness is angelic. But maybe the pedophiles would rather a clean boy to defile.

On the other hand, maybe she just wanted to scare me into having good personal hygeine. Thanks a lot mom. I may not have dirt behind my ears, but now I have fingerprints on my rectum.

In other news, I haven't shaved since Tuesday. Because of this, I've been considering keeping the streak alive and growing a moustache, but my dad has a moustache, so that just seems weird to me. Below is a fairly accurate artistic rendering of me with a moustache. Let me know what you think. I need your advice.

Shitface Hates Me

What timing, huh? Here we are, BfN's 100th post, and now is when internal strife decides to strike. In light of the occasion, though, I've decided to come clean in regards to the charges against me. Yes, I took the Solstice game pak. Why? Because I wanted it. I was young and naive and white. What did you expect?

But, allow me to add, I did not enjoy it at all. I played it for about 5 minutes before I went back to playing Crystalis. I much preferred shooting fire and wind out of a sword and talking to rabbits than picking up blocks and solving puzzles and shit. I think most people would agree.

Also, I had no knowledge of the Italian man's uncle in the other bathroom stall. I put a hand through and felt some fur. I thought I had made an informed decision. I didn't know it was his moustache, and I APOLOGIZED RIGHT AFTER THE AMBULANCE LEFT. How long are you going to keep a grudge?

Anyways, I have my own grievances against McStevens. Here are some of them, in an abbreviated list form:

1) You brought me to an Indian restaurant once. You know I can't eat Indian.
2) You told me the clown's name was Donald McDonald. I felt like such an asshole.
3) You tried to digo* Judith Light, and not even 6 feet away from me. Needless to say, I hate Connecticut now.
4) You are forever farting in my car. It's disgusting. And the only time I've heard a "Hebrew Oven" joke not relating to Nazis.
5) I'm just going to say it one more time: Urine is a poor lubricant. Not that I've tried, it's just common sense.

There's plenty more I hold against you, Shitface, but I don't let it stand in the way of our friendship. I'm extending the olive branch here, trying to be the bigger man. And for the record, Megaman did not make me "puke my don," as you so eloquently put it. It was Parappa.

*Digo (dee-go) v. - to copulate; to engage in sexual intercourse.

I hate V A N D E R B I L T

For all intent and purpose, our short lived friendship is over. I hate you, and everything you stand for. I wiped my ass with French toast this morning cuz' I know you like it. Can't believe you were the one that took my Solstice Nintendo game pak. You know how much trouble I got in for that. I was restricted to playing tether ball for a whole week. I got really good, which helped me digo later on, but the hardships I suffered weren't worth it.

Now you tell me you took it. Sigh... The balls you have Vanderbilt are of the king sized variety. I thought you had duke sized balls (get it, duke/dong, aka specializing in the face to duke maneuver) Honestly, that's why I haven't been posting. The puzzle based formula of this game is unique. I thought my Famicom might have eaten it, but alas it did not, you took it.

I have been forced to read books by Dan Brown (brown is for shit), and repeatedly watch the second disc of Saved by the Bell the New Class Season 1. Oh have I wasted my life.

While I'm at it... I hate how you always pee all over the toilet seat, and that man smell which I once found attractive now wears on my nasal cavity. Did you have to maraud Maude's vaginal cavity (Black Morris's Mom/ An awkward Haitian Man's hot mom) Dude I wanted that shit. I know you let me shit on her chest as conciliation, but C'mon.

I'll never forgive you for that time you ate all of my cheese, and told me the mouse from mouse trap stole it. I believed you man. I burned that plastic. We drank sasperilla and spit sad songs. We proceeded to digo a baked ham and dog shit on a bagel.

You convinced me to digo a pineapple. Have you ever had that kind of acid penetrate an opening. Ever get that shit in a cut? You're getting the picture. Then you led me to a glory hole. You told me there was a pH neutral Vagina on the other side. There wasn't. I made an Italian man's uncle choke to death.

There are only a short list of grievances I have with you Vanderbilt. So fuck you, and I bid you a bad day. Oh yeah, I'm officially letting everyone know that megaman made you puke your don, BADLY.

Chosen-For-You Adventure #1: Happy Hour

The sun is warm on your face, accompanied by a cool wind that makes you smile. It is Thursday, your lunch hour, and the bright day makes you forget the tie around your neck. Suddenly, you are bumped out of your ecstasy from behind. You turn to see an attractive young woman before you, her eyes lowered in embarrassment, her lips whispering "excuse me." You have a choice.

Do you step aside and let her pass? Or do you try to strike up a conversation?

As you watch her walk down the street away from you, you curse yourself for your cowardice. While you plan on which of your toes you should hit with a hammer as penance, a co-worker, Giuseppe, taps you on the shoulder. He says that "some of the guys" are going to happy hour tonight, and wonders if you'd care to come along.

Do you take him up on his offer? Or do you offer a lame excuse because of your social anxiety?

You thank him for the invitation, but tell him that you have "a lot" to do tonight. "Big plans. Like, tons of stuff." He nods and just stands there, not leaving, and you really really want him to leave so you can stand alone some more in the sun, so you blurt out that you'd be able to go the following evening. This satisfies him, so he high-fives you and leaves you by yourself.

Back at your desk, you laugh to yourself, thinking about how you have no intention of going to happy hour the next day. An hour later, though, and Giuseppe has begun to high-five you every time he passes your desk. Other co-workers have taken up the habit, and you are being barraged with high-fives.

Do you continue to reciprocate the high-fives? Or do you tell your co-workers to go fuck themselves?

5:30 finally arrives, and both of your hands are sore, your right hand from high-fiving everyone, and your left hand from slamming it a few times with your stapler when no one was looking. Giuseppe asks you one last time, as they are about to walk to the bar.

Do you cave in and join them? Or do you make up more excuses?

You tell them about some girl you have plans to see, a girl who is visiting from out of town. You say you plan to explore a bit, maybe ball up together somewhere comfortable. "Or maybe just ball her." The guys applaud your masculinity and leave, never realizing you were referring to Samus Aran.

That night you play Metroid until 1 AM. Your hands hurt the whole time.

********************************************************

You wake up the next day at 6 AM.

Do you get up, shower, dress and eat? Or do you sleep a little more?

It is 7:30 when you finally get Samus back to her ship to save your game. You skip the shower and just head to work, taking some Famous Amos cookies for the road.

The first half of your day is a breeze. Giuseppe isn't in today, so there have been no high-fives, and it looks like you are in the clear regarding happy hour. After lunch, though, Giuseppe shows up, as he had been a doctor's appointment that morning. He leans over your cubicle and reminds you about happy hour, saying how glad he is that you are coming.

Do you make up a new excuse? Or do you nod and smile?

You nod and smile. He pats you on the back, and says "See you at 5:30."

The time finally comes for you to make the trek down the road to some loud bar with people you don't really speak to. You don't know half of their names. As you enter the bar, Giuseppe asks you what you want to drink.

Do you tell him you've never had a beer before? Or do you play it cool?

"Whatever you're having," you say, blindly leaning on a stool to your right. Your weight spins the stool around, and that's when you realize someone is sitting in it. It is the girl who bumped into you the day before. She is wearing a very cute skirt, and looks prettier than you remember her being. You can kind of see up her skirt.

Do you excuse yourself and run home before the image escapes your mind? Or do you just stand there and do nothing?

You just stand there and do nothing, except breath awkwardly. She remembers you and offers you a seat next to her. Giuseppe comes back with your beer, and just places it in front of you, as he sees the situation you are in. He pats you on the back, and you and the girl talk. Her name is Bonita, which you find strange, as she is obviously Scandinavian, but you suspend your disbelief and surrender yourself to the power of suggestive names. After a good hour of talking, or listening to her talk, she asks if you'd like to see her apartment.

Do you go home with her? Or do you go home with her?

On arrival at her apartment, you begin to have a hard time breathing. You've never been alone with a woman, and you need time to adjust, so you excuse yourself and find the bathroom. She ends up following you in and molesting you. You begin to make out and disrobe. After a few minutes and a quick discussion, you realize that neither of you have a condom handy. This may be your only chance at this for a long time.

Do you trust in luck and go it condomless? Or do you try to improvise?

After scraping the last of the toothpaste from the tube, you realize that the plastic is probably harder than latex and would be painful. She has excused herself to her bed as you prepare. You feel a breeze come through her open bathroom window, and your clothes are lying there on the toilet lid.

Do you leave through the window? Or do you act like a man and tell her that this isn't happening tonight?

You leave through the window. And you steal her soap. The next day you tell everyone how many times you "sexed" her. Eleven.

The End

What a Weekend - Part Two(Sunday)

I'm trying to remember what happened that Sunday. It was like three weekends ago. God, I have an awful memory. At the time, it was really exciting, but I guess other things happen in my life, and those new things are written over the old.

Oh, right, my jacket was all linty, and I had spent all of Saturday in a drunken haze, bothering nice people about some un-invented invention called a lint mop. No idea what the fuck that was all about. I was really hung over on Sunday. I remember waking up and being like, "God, my mouth tastes like a mule's ass." I had some tea and english muffins. A Centrum. "From A to motherfuckin Zinc," as Shitface always said, before he went generic. Then i brought my jacket to the dry cleaners, which seemed like the logical thing to do. The dude behind the counter was kinda grossed out, though, what with all the lint and other unmentionable stains, but it seems like thats his goddamn job. He is supposed to take dirty clothes and make them clean, why sneer at an article of clothing in front of the customer? That kinda pissed me off, so I took another Centrum.

The rest of the day was wasted. I tried to work on my robot a little bit more, but there was still something wrong with the wiring, as the lightbulb eyes refused to light up. I haven't gone back to it since. It's just so frustrating, it makes me tired. I think I played some Tetris DS after that. It's surprising how arousing it is to fit the straight piece into a slot and score a four-line tetris. Setting up some space in the middle of the board, sometimes just slowly settling the piece in, other times a hard and violent drop. God, it's beautiful. Needless to say, I spent the rest of the night with my bedroom door shut.

Now I remember! What made the day special was the epiphany I had while playing Tetris. I'll try to set the scene: I'm on my bed, fully clothed but wishing I wasn't, in video game ecstacy, hormones pumping through my blood. Suddenly, it dawned on me: All I needed was a girl. It was so simple, just a girl, to be my physical companion as my brain and thumbs worked away. She wouldn't have to do much, just sit there and cheer my on, and perform oral sex. I called it "Nintendome." It is now on my list of things to do after I learn to publicly refrain from being a nerd and before I become impotent.

After that breakthrough, I spent an hour or so organizing the phone numbers I'd picked up over the last few weeks, sorting them into piles dubbed "Probably Won't Call" and "Won't Call." Then I watched the Sopranos. What a weekend, right?

Here's Something!

Here's a poem I wrote for this class I'm in. It's a poetry class. This is a villanelle, a poetic form that repeats the first and last lines of the first stanza in such a way that a portal is triggered to the dimension Boredox, allowing Boredoxians to invade and run amok, shooting you with lasers that make you fall asleep. Enjoy!

Advice to a Wayward Father

A prostitute is not a proper gift
For a young man when he becomes sixteen,
Even if his ego needs a lift.

Do not find her records. Don’t try to sift
Through them to make sure that her body’s clean.
A prostitute is not a proper gift.

And if you do, don’t accommodate thrift.
A tart(though skillful, yes) whose face is mean,
Even if his ego needs a lift

Will only help to spread a wider rift.
Just buy the kid a dirty magazine.
A prostitute is not a proper gift.

Strewn-about tissue, a broken stick-shift,
There’s more to this than you or I could glean.
Even if his ego needs a lift,

He’s not prepared. I hope you’ve caught my drift.
Please put down the phone. Don’t call that Korean.
A prostitute is not a proper gift
Even if his ego needs a lift.