an ode to but a shadow...

a quick english lesson: nouns and adjectives

2011-03-28T13:59:00.001-07:00

alright, so i'm scrolling down my facebook updates, and what do i see but a former english teacher improperly modifying gerunds. she's a former (or possibly still current, i don't know) english teacher! for those of you who don't know what an english teacher is, it's someone who professes to teach children, or adults in some cases, how to speak and write english. for those of you who don't know what modify means, i'll save you the time of referencing dictionary.com and tell you. it means to change or edit the character of something else, or to qualify something with a certain characteristic. example: look at the dog. look at the red dog. here "red" modifies dog. get the picture? we move on... a gerund (i know many of you don't remember what that is, or you wouldn't so liberally modify them incorrectly) is a noun converted from a verb, such as "looking", "seeing", "spending", "punching". say two men are at the bar, the wife (who we'll subsequently refer to as angelina) of man no. 1 (who we'll subsequently refer to as billy) walks in, and billy smiles at his wife. his wife smiles back, but then a strange expression comes over her face as she notices man no. 2 (bob). billy looks over at bob who's oggling angelina. billy punches bob in the face, and bob exclaims, "HEY! what the hell is going on?" to which billy screams, "YOU looking at my wife is the problem!" bob then replies "NO! your punching me in the face is the problem!" see the difference here? billy's "you looking" employs one noun "you" to modify another noun "looking," and we all know that only adjectives can modify nouns. just ask your local high school english teacher... oh wait, nevermind. i wouldn't be explaining this if it were that simple, so just take my word for it. at any rate. bob has used the proper grammar, with an adjective "your" to modify the noun "punching."

let's just have a little practice. here are some common situations where you may have improperly modified your nouns.

1) you doing your homework is integral. --> improper

your doing your homework is integral. --> correct

2) you and me drinking this whole bottle of crown is a must! --> improper

our drinking... --> correct

your and my drinking --> correct

3) all i'm thinking about is me hitting up this shorty tonight! --> improper

all i'm thinking about is MY hitting up this shorty... --> correct

so there you have it. just a brief review of grammar. go out there and spread this newly re-found knowledge, and let us make this world a better place.

have you never heard of a phone book?

2011-02-27T12:40:00.000-08:00

sooo... today i look in my school inbox to notice that i have a message, sent out to the listserv of a certain organization to which i belong. in said email, there's a message about something, something about" smartphones" and blah, blah "creepy" with a link to an online video. and i think to myself, "i have a smartphone. what kind of creepiness is going on out there?" but before i go to click on the link i have to go through a particular mental progression:

1) i hardly know this person who sent me this link

2) this link could be a phishing attempt

3) this person's account could be hacked

4) this person's account probably isn't hacked, as i received this email 4 hours ago, and no one has yet remarked upon it being a suspicious link.

with that being settled, i proceed to visit this online video, and here i am faced with a clown-sounding newscaster, talking about how pictures i could upload to the internet, taken from my smartphone, could be utilized to give any other internet user my exact location. now take a moment, because i now a lot of you out there are summarily missing the implications of such a statement, thus i shall repeat and explain. some one, could use a picture i posted online to find out where i am. a picture i sent to the internet from my smartphone (i.e. blackberry, iphone, droid) could clue someone in on where i am... someone could find me house, find where i work, find out where i take walks, find out my daily routine (because i just take that many pictures and upload them to the internet). someone could stalk me!

creepy, right? welllllll, not so much.

firstly, the pictures being uploaded, the examples from the news clip, were mainly twitpix from twitter. i have to say that i am not a participant in tweeting, nor do i follow anyone who does. maybe if facebook didn't exist... but that's a whole other story. so twitter. and i'm thinking, but i may be mistaken about this premise, but isn't the purpose of twitter to share one's information with the rest of the world? don't people log onto twitter every day and share little pieces of their lives with all the random strangers out there whom they don't know? even if that's not the case, there's the phone book. pause. many of the people who exist in today's information age, don't actually know what a phone book is, so let me explain, once again. a phone book is a book (big surprise, i know) that has everyone's name, phone number, AND address, listed alphabetically so it makes one easier to find. this phone book is organized geographically, people living close to one another being in the same phone book. it's usually a huge yellow tome delivered by a local phone company right to the doorsteps of everyone in any neighborhood. furthermore, in today's information age, it's all online, so not only does one have access to one's local neighbors but one's national neighbors as well. example: if i so chose, i could look up a steven johnson (if one existed) in san josé, california. WILD! not only can i be stalked using a phone book, but my entire neighborhood!

still, there are a couple of hedges i must make. one being that with the advent of prevalent cell phone usage, not as many people have house phones and are thus not in the phone book. my response to that is, i can just find you using your twitpix coordinates...

ye's most consistent yet

2010-12-08T17:31:00.000-08:00

my beautiful dark twisted fantasy is by far kanye's most consistent album. this is the pinnacle of his talents, i almost can't believe. the perfect balance of rhymes, production, and features. i think it's evident to all hip-hop connoisseurs that kanye west is not the most inherently gifted rapper, but he has no reservations when it comes to his work putting together all the technical elements (tropes, i.e. metaphors, similes, punchlines, etc) that make rap appealing. i'm not going to go into specifics, as that would be an entirely different article, and this here is just a blurb to big up mr. west. still kanye has managed to weave his worked over rhymes over spectacular beats. oh, the beats. we all know that kanye is one of the most talented producers of this age, and his capacity to combine sick flows with killer tracks is reminiscent of a very famous doctor from compton... ye never fails to experiment with the music, sometimes inspired to produce some truly awe inspiring tunes. true to form, yeezy continues the trend of instrumental exploration, aiming for the beyond and hitting his mark. and let's not forget the features. wow, he comes with some heavy hitters, some from out of the past like that old dead uncle with whom you wish you could sit down and have one more chat, with the likes of rza and raekwon. and let's not forget the always at the top of their games, jay-z and t.i. kanye also does a few duos with heavy-in-the-game r&b singers, such as the dream and john legend. all in all, the album is a classic. it's art, not too much and not too little. take a listen. you won't be disappointed.

thanks for thanksgiving

2010-12-02T11:59:00.000-08:00

as i have a lot in my life to be thankful for, God has blessed me tremendously, i have to say that this past thanksgiving was nearly the most severely unthankworthy holiday i've had. ALMOST. with that being said, i want to take this time to thank the people whose efforts made it a worthwhile thanksgiving: my aunt vera whom i love dearly and my cousin carlos who has never failed in his capacity to be cheerful. it was a thanksgiving that will be remembered not because of it's grandiosity but because of it's being the worst ever, only second to the thanksgiving i spent away from home, in iowa. that is not to say that it was a bad thanksgiving, and neither was my worst thanksgiving. but, it's the expectations of thanksgiving that set me up for such a disappointment, and i was indeed thoroughly disappointed.

i am a medical student, and as such, i have to spend the vast majority (over 99% for those of you who don't know what 'vast' means) of the year away from and out of contact with my family. it's a big deal, but hey, there are some rewards to look forward to. so when a major holiday comes around i expect that i'll get to spend time with all the people i love, gathered conveniently in one place, as it has always been, year after year, and as it should always be. this year, oh how was i so sorely deceived. it was thanksgiving. the time of year when my 4 aunts (and maybe the fifth) along with my mom take the time to show off their culinary talents in, each to her own specialty, synergistically combining a meal so ravishingly delectable as to start wars over. so imagine my heartbreak when i've been looking forward to this meal since the last 3rd thursday in november, only to discover that said meal is not going to take place. it's akin to the trojan war with no achilles or the middle east with no oil. who the hell even wants to hear about such a thing? no one, i assure you.

one week before thanksgiving was supposed to happen, i was informed that there would be a family gathering and there would a coming together of cuisines. yet one day before the grand repast of all repasts, i come to find out that plans had all crumbled. who was to blame could only be surmised through speculation. it's a moot point. besides the sorrow of missing such a reunion, my ultimate grief stems from the fact that my family could even allow such an event to take place. my mom is getting old, and so are my aunts. 20 years is a long time, it's a generation's worth of time, and i now i realize in that span of time that all the kids in the family that were there when i first moved to north carolina are now adults. yet, we as the next generation have not taken the roles in organization of the family that my mom and aunts should have passed on to us. did they drop the baton, or did we just not take the hand-off? interesting question, but what's more important is where we go from here. we, as the next generation, can not let family fail. we can not allow our family to fall apart, to become so many separate entities. we have to take up the banner of unity and fraternity and instill in the next generation the love that we all felt when we were growing up. this past thanksgiving was a slap in the face, waking me up to a world that was not here yesterday. it's a challenge. i just hope we're up to it.

10 random thoughts

2010-10-11T02:52:00.001-07:00

1) leaving an container in a room overnight, that was once filled with vietnamese food, will inevitably leave said room reeking of quite the inviting aroma: melange of cat vomit and goat fart...

2) i once had a girl ask me if she was a problem. i laughed and replied, "nope. i got 99 problems, but you ain't one." hit me!

3) i never met a person who had money (real money) who wasn't busy. unless the person was old and retired. conversely, it's interesting that the poor people seem to have an inordinate amount of free time on their hands... coincidence? get your hustle up.

4) people who update their statuses with "motivating" quotes just motivates me to mock them, and their quotes. that is, unless the person who is actually using a motivating quote is none other than myself.

5) i've been proposed to by three different women in my lifetime. and it's not like i'm an old timer, but for the life of me i can't remember whom the first one was from.

6) people are always a little bit incredulous when i tell them tales of my hometown. but that story's to come later...

7) apparently, a lot of people choose seven when given the choice of 1 through 10. that being said, i'm going to stop here. i would go back and change the title of this blog entry, if i were more inclined to do so (which, i suppose, you could count as one more).

domino's new and improved?

2010-04-23T14:48:00.000-07:00

soooo... i hope i'm not the only one out there who has been compelled (read "duped") into trying domino's "new and improved" pizza, as domino's has had quite the convincing campaign. they have their advertisements where individuals in a supposed focus group just verbally trash their pizza, element by element. one such focus group member going so far as to say, "domino's should just start over..." then, domino's endeavors to rise from the pit of mediocrity and make improvements in their pizza. they supposedly follow through with this plan, then track down all these focus group members and persuade them to try the "new and improved" domino's pizza. the sauce is "better," the crust is more garlicky. the toppings are tastier. and all the focus group members come to the realization (while being in a commercial, so i should've known better) that domino's pizza is not so bad after all. one guy quotes, "i'm eating my words." I'M eating my [expletive deleted] words?!? i wish i could eat my words right now to attenuate the awful taste of domino's pizza that lingers on half an hour after having finished my last domino's slice ever.

let me tell you a little about my experience with this so-called "new and improved" pizza. it was damn near horrific. it was as if the guys at domino's took canisters of garlic salt and garlic and intermittently just shook out the contents onto the pizza. don't get me wrong. i love garlic, and a nice warm, soft crust brushed with a buttery garlic sauce is delectable, but this domino's crust was something else entirely. apparently, it used to taste like cardboard. it now tastes like cardboard saturated with garlic salt. to add to the whole debacle of a pie, the toppings were also pretty bad. i don't know if it was the cheese or the individual toppings themselves, but i don't know how i could feel like i was biting into salt-lick every time i took a bite of pizza. i'm certain my blood pressure is now in stroke range from all that salt. there's no reason why canned pineapples should taste like they were plucked right out of the atlantic or why canned olives should taste like they were grown straight out of the dead sea. the last item of discussion: the sauce. i recall one of the focus groupers claiming that domino's sauce tasted like ketchup. i would've disputed that with anyone, as i used to be a regular consumer of domino's pizza, but after today, i can make the proclamation myself. the sauce tasted more like ketchup than that last bottle of heinz i bought at harris teeter.

anyone who knows what type of relationship that pizza and i have can imagine how heartbroken i was to have such a horrible pizza experience. and what better way to gather one's shredded remnants of emotional self and stampede through the shroud of heartbreak hell than to imbue one's soul with the liquid bliss that comes in a 75 dL bottle...

you're no photographer, but...

2010-03-21T18:25:00.000-07:00

have you ever been browsing through someone's photos, only to notice that half of them consist of that person either standing in front of the mirror or having his/her arm outstretched in front of him/herself, and you can imagine that person spending the few precious moments it takes to get that ever so perfect pose so that they can press the button and get an everlasting image of how beautiful (or not) he/she is? i know that is a long question, but it is in fact grammatically correct and properly punctuated. when i see so many photos of a person holding his camera in front of a mirror or holding is arm outstretched in front of him, getting more and more photos of himself, it leads my thoughts down one path, to one ultimate conclusion: that this person is clearly not fit to actually own a camera. really. think about it. how smart do you have to be to figure out the timer on your camera? it's not that hard. you press two or three extra buttons, set the camera down, gather yourself up into whatever wondrous pose the world has inspired you to imagine and FLASH. photo taken.

i know that when we're holding our cameras in our hands every one of us thinks of ourselves as the latest winner on america's next top model, just having landed a huge contract, and are thus obligated to participate in our own special little photo shoot. problem is half that time there's no real photographer. so what do we do? we come up with the bright idea that we can take our own pictures. i'm not saying this is a bad idea. i know how much fun it can be to take a series of pictures, eagerly awaiting the moment i can post them on facebook. however. those of use who actually use the other half of our brains, have sense enough not to make ourselves look like vapid idiots by dragging out half our wardrobes and running through the various poses which we've learned for taking pictures while growing up.

all i'm saying is that, it's ok, it's absolutely acceptable to grab a brother, sister, cousin, friend, or neighbor for a quick session of point and click. that way you're not impeded by the physical limitations one encounters when having to take one's own picture. that way no one has to see your head and face blown out of proportion because you're holding the camera at arms length, without being able to tell at which angle to hold the camera... no one has to see your posing image reflected off of your bathroom mirror in your photo. people can actually see YOU! either that, or simply work out how to operate the timer function on your camera...

why you should make fun of fat people

2010-02-08T16:01:00.000-08:00

with the advent of cultural competency, america has ushered in a new generation with sociological values that are accepting, permissive, and supportive. there is the far-reaching credo of accepting everyone for who everyone is, whether that be whites accepting blacks, heterosexuals accepting homosexuals, the strong accepting the weak, the slim accepting the... not so slim, and so on. in a God fearing community, that's a wondrous step towards societal evolution. "do more for others than you do for yourself". great. however, we have become too accepting in my opinion. it's gotten to the point where you can't even make fun of people for their differences without everyone becoming offended. gays don't want anyone using "gay" pejoratively: it's offensive. blacks don't want anyone using "black" to describe people: it's offensive. people who are seemingly slightly more intelligent than the clinically retarded don't want anyone using the word "retarded." i could go on and on, as i take offense to so many people taking offense, but i want to make a specific point here. it's time we used the offensivity of certain conditions to the benefit of all. this is why you should make fun of fat people.

i've given it much thought and have concluded that there is no defensible position one can take on why we should't make the obese the butts of our jokes, the targets of our teasing, so to speak. the main reason why people look down upon the playfully (or even maliciously) critiquing of fatties is the fear that we'll hurt their feelings. it's not an unjustified fear. inevitably, we will hurt their feelings, and they may become sad (worse case scenario: depressed) or may develop an eating disorder. my response to that is, "so what?" i base this on the premise that it is easier to cure a psychological complex or an eating disorder than it is to cure our nation of obesity. to support my point, let's look at some numbers here. Out of the top ten leading causes of death, 4 of those are obesity related. 3 out of those four are the top three leading causes of death. There is only one psychologically related cause of death in the top 15. this is free information made available by the cdc, fyi. just suffice it to say that we can help, even cure, the depressed and anorexic/bulemic persons. they get better. how many people have you known to be cured of obesity?

then we have economic issues on the table. have you ever wondered why as a nation we're spending more and more on healthcare? it's due in part to our unhealthy population. just listen (or simply read) this: 33% of west virginians are obese, and there are 4 other states with obesity rates greater than 30%. let me take a moment and clarify a couple of concepts for those of you who don't know the difference between overweight and obese. overweight is your friend and/or relative who you think is a little chubby. obese is your other friend/acquaintance/relative who is just flat out fat as hell. statistically speaking, over half the states in america have a population that is over 25% obese. that's 1 out of every 4 people. absurd. there has been a trend over the last 20 years of increasing numbers of fat people. coincidentally there have also been an increasing healthcare costs. thats not to mention the new numbers coming in about people who are normoweight obese (people who are normal weight but have a high enough body fat percentage to be considered fatties). but let's not get too bogged down in mathematics.

getting away from numbers altogether (or maybe not so much), how many times have you waken up next to a girl who you remembered looking like halle berry but now who more closely resembles kelly price (before the lipo)? how many times have you gone out to a club, before you've had enough to drink, and wondered, "where did all these fat girls come from?" how many times have you, by an odd occurrence, just happened to catch glimpse of a girl from the neck up, thinking, "wow, this girl is cute," to then only later see the rest of her and be surprised at how a girl who looked like she was hiding a couple of farm animals in her clothes could have such an attractive head? same question goes for ladies, applied with fat guys of course. so you see, obesity is not only killing everyone, it's even taking a toll on your sex life. it's horrendous. there's only one way to solve it, one way for you ladies to get your fat boyfriends to put down that wendy's triple cheeseburger and force him to satisfy other appetites which he claims to be too tired to fulfill, one way for you guys to ensure that when you're done busting one and rolling over that you don't end up still on top of ol' hog mauls, and that is to ensure fat people know that they're fat. poke fun of them. hell, actually poke them if you have to. make them feel small on the inside so that they'll be inspired to be small on the outside. make fun of fat people. you can, and you should.

america the great

2010-01-14T13:01:00.000-08:00

dear friends and acquaintances,

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A7NUQZiWl6w

this is a link from the young turks that i discovered on a friend of mine's facebook profile. it's recent news. i'm not going to make a short story long, but it depicts the idiocy of one mr. glen back who until recently i didn't even think was an actual person, but just a caricature of some of the uber right-wing personalities that garner such media attention. it's racists such as this personality that make america such a great place.

deeply ashamed,
rod

what's beef?

2009-11-05T10:54:00.000-08:00

i'm just going to come out and make this short and simple. i am utterly annoyed at all these herbs out here interjecting "beef" into their everyday vocabulary, most of them not even knowing what the hell beef even signifies. so here it is for all the urban-vernacularly challenged folks out there.

if you and i get into an argument, a very heated argument, and afterwards we both continue on our ways, just grumbling to anyone who'll listen about how much we don't like each other. that's NOT beef. on the other hand, if after that same argument, the next time i see you, i punch you in the face and proceed to stomp you out... THAT'S beef. don't get the two confused. please.

similarly, if you and i get into an argument and fists start to fly, my boy sees and comes to jump in, and we proceed to seriously f-bomb your wold up, causing you to hold a grudge to the extent that you scheme to catch me solo while you have your crew with you so that you can retaliate... THAT'S beef. matter of fact, that's heavy beef.

if i don't like you, you don't like me, and none of our friends get along, such to the point where weapons get involved, people's parents' homes are endangered, innocent bystanders get incidentally victimized in the process of all our "resolving" of our conflict, also including intrigue, espionage and betrayal... then that's dirty beef.

summarily, this establishes that beef is not simply a friendly, or even a not so friendly disagreement, between persons who may (or may not) respect each other. beef equals violence. end of story.

gangsta rap: a non-violent death

2009-10-19T16:09:00.000-07:00

for those of us who follow rap closely, and especially for all the extant hip-hop junkies of the world, it has recently come to my attention that several very subtle shifts in the subject matter of mainstream rap have culminated in a redirection of hip hop as we know it. as rappers such as lupe fiasco, kanye west, drake, and kid cudi are more and more successful, it's very interesting to see more traditional "gangsta" rappers such as t.i., lil wayne, and jay-z lean more heavily on their non-gangsta content of their lyrics. interesting. there have always been rappers, successful by other means besides counting the number of units moved, such as the roots and common who were generally very introspective and conciousin their raps, and it seems that is the direction that hip hop has taken today. historically, hip hop was very introspective and more biographical at its inception. looking back at rappers like big daddy kane, rakim, and biz markie, there wasn't the insipid attitude in rap where everyone was claiming to shoot your mother, rape your grandmother, beating "that bitch wit a bat." none of that. rap used to be conscious. one listen to grandmaster flash and the furious five's "the message", and one actually visualizes what it's like to come from the hood. imagine that.

rockin out to jay-z's the blueprint 3, helped me to come to the very apparent realization that gangsta rap is coming to a non-violent death. jay-z is more or less the head hauncho in the rap game, and he doesn't have one gangsta song on the entire album (DOA is probably the hardest song on that joint). this is an album that is brilliant by even jay-z standards. the production is tight, the lyrics are on point, and there is actually a message in most of the songs. be amazed. thinking along those same lines leads me to reflect on t.i.'s last album paper trail: not very gangsta. although, there is some g up in there, the album is very introspective and moves away from the pervasive shoot'em up motif characteristic of his previous albums.

with that being said, hopefully the current trend in hip hop will continue. it would be great to see more innovation in lyrical content and more diverse themes in rap. and don't just take my word for it, take a listen for yourself...

drinking myself obnoxious: highlights

2009-09-26T05:42:00.001-07:00

so last night, i went out. i should preface that statement with, yesterday i took my psych shelf, and i what i originally thought would be akin to eating a stack of pancakes à la fork and knife with a nice glass of milk to wash them down, in terms of difficulty here, turned out to be a mental plundering of an orifice i would rather not directly refer to. thus, weighed down with the possibility of getting kicked out of med school for failing exams, i decided to drink myself into a state that i know quite well. it's an altered state of mind in which i have rendered myself (or have been rendered by my fine acquaintance, al) silly, obnoxious, and belligerent. fortunately, red eyed, sharp fanged monster of belligerence did not rear it's ugly head, if i may be so cliché. that does leave silly and obnoxious. honestly, though, i think i was neither more silly nor more obnoxious than i would have been completely sober. the following is more or less a breakdown of the evening.

1) pregame at doc and his wife's place (actual names are excluded for the protection of individuals' identities)
2) wine bar with the roomies (where i tried to convince one of my classmates to hookup with one of my roommates... yeah...)
3) p.t.'s (formerly known as lucy's)

pregaming at doc's is always fun. doc is one of the, if not the, funniest people i've ever met. plus, his wife is really cool. originally, they were supposed to come out with us, but as they had not seen each other for a while, i think they made alternate plans for the evening...

so the wine bar. $5 glasses of wine, and not just the cheap house wine either. i was instantaneously excited from the 1st sip of pinot noir, the closest thing to ambrosia man will ever know. still, i was not just excited because of the wine, no matter how much of an alcoholic many people believe me to be. it was the 1st time in a long time that unc som class of 2011 were getting together and enjoying each other's company. as much as that could happen. it is here where the 1st highlight of the night occurred. there's an attractive (cute face, nice body) classmate of mine who i made a particular effort to talk to, since she generally seems to be one of the more interesting persons in the class of 2011. we were making casual convo, little small-talk, when words happened to steer their way towards the subject of singledom. to my knowledge, she had been single for the duration of our studies thus far, and i inquired if she had any applicants at the moment. she replied no. now, i would be interested in hanging out with this particular classmate, in a more intimate setting, mainly because i had never really sat down and talked with her. as such, i informed her of my interest, invited her to brunch, all in a calm nice-guy type demeanor and vernacular. and what does she do but shut me down with an inglorious rant about how the venue i suggested was horrible. i just walked away, thinking, "no wonder she's still single..." i wasn't really suggesting that she and i date, though that's what she thought. quite frankly, she doesn't quite meet my standards. is it obnoxious that i think that? probably. but hey, that's how i roll. what get's me is that, being polite just doesn't work on women in this world, and that's why "nice guys finish last" (www.laddertheory.com). just to prove my point i went up to two other women, no polite introductions, just minimal convo to gain slight interest and intrusive suggestions that we exchange numbers, and of course, we exchanged numbers. though, i must add that i am a bit charming...

on to p.t.'s. this half of the night was probably the "silly" part. i, in my desperation to close out the night with a great moment in hookup history, tried to take home a porker. preface: i was actually going after the friend, but the original target transferred my aim to her friend (i.e. "the porker"). it was a move commonly known as "game reversal" where one intends to run game on a particular target, but target uses itself as a decoy, transfers the roles, and reverses the direction of the game (i didn't escape the trick... silly). well played, ladies... well played. it was late, and in my mind, i was like "fuck it." it's this particular roll with the punches attitude that exhibits the 2nd highlight of the night. there's a certain threshold of attractiveness over which a guy will have sex with a girl and under which he will not. this line of thought is contiguous with the 2-point (trinary for all you sluts of logic) system. a 0 point girl is one a guy won't do under any circumstances. he could be drunk, high, and a paranoid schizophrenic, still he would refuse to poke. a 1 point girl is one that a guy would readily hookup with but would not admit it to anyone, save maybe his best friend or the dog that he has had for 10 years. 1's are the girls drunken hookup stories are made of. a 2 point girl is one who a guy would bag and pridefully boast about it. it's all about discrimination. alcohol decreases one's capacity to discriminate between 1's and 2's on a conscious level, and so many a 1 are taken home, had fun with, and never spoken to or of again. clearly, the girl from last night was a 1. for reasons beyond my current understanding, i stopped drinking early. ironic, i know, but fate smiled upon me and allowed me to escape the dejection of the 1 morning after...

at the prompting of tunya

2009-09-12T11:35:00.000-07:00

so my dear cousin (whom i love very much, by the way) responded to my jocular facebook status "planning on that reup 2nite. not them o's but them hos..." with "Rod, I really don't find this funny. Offensive language is never funny. Some words have double meanings, take for example 'nigga'. It can be used offensively or used by guys to me, 'my boy'. While I'm not advocating the use of the word, I do understand it has a positive connotation. There is no positive meaning for the word 'ho' - derived from the noun 'whore' - anywhere. I still love and respect you, cuz. And, this is a personal perspective. But use of that word has implications for the world's view of women that extend beyond me. With baby girls being murdered at birth at alarming rates in China, and girls being taken in to brothels at as young as 5 years old in south east Asia, I hope that you will reconsider the use and spread of this terminology for women. Even prostitutes should not be called 'ho'." while i don't categorically disagree with her perspective, there are several flaws in the logic of such a statement.

article 1. of course offensive language is funny. it's a scientific fact that if eddie murphy hadn't had his stellar performance in raw, and even subsequently in delirious, standup comedy of today would be quite remiss. eddie murphy has influenced such comedians as chris rock, martin lawrence, dave chappelle, george lopez, and russel peters. eddie murphy himself was influenced by the legends richard pryor and redd foxx, both of whom used notoriously offensive language.

article 2. while it is indeed true that some words have double meanings, many of us have come to accept the word "nigga" (the bigup) as a distinct entity from the word "nigger" (the slur). though phonetically distinct, the two are etymologically equal. "ho" on the other hand has one and only one meaning. ho refers to a morally lax, promiscuous person. it is not an equivocation. there is no double-entendre. there is no mistaking the intent of this word. a whore, however, is a woman who accepts money for sexual favors. whore is also synonymous with prostitute, and in this my cousin is absolutely correct. a prostitute should not be called a ho. now whether or not a ho wants to accept money for her part in partaking of decadence... that's another story altogether.

article 3. female infants being murdered in china (presumably by their parents) goes way beyond the mere use of the term ho. way beyond. so does institution of child sex slavery in SE asia. yes both the murdering of babies in china and forcing children into sex slavery portray the underlying malicious misogyny of society, but their connection with my use of the word ho is quite intangible.

that being said, irreverent comedy is some of the best comedy there is, hands down, and while there remain comedians out there who incorporate offensive language, including but not exclusive to the word "ho", into their routines, i will remain there to laugh. furthermore, by the inherent nature of a ho, the word can not be uttered without its attachment of such a negative connotation, but the word only refers to a person's loose morals and promiscuity, not to the sex of the person.

what'sup buddy?

2009-09-03T19:08:00.001-07:00

yeah. one of weirdest encounters tonight. i was out picking up my pizza, walking out of papa john's full of the excitement that i'm exploding with when i know i'm about to crush some papa john's. out of nowhere, a 5'1" extremely drunken woman walks up to me and say's, "you got some money?" as we walk past each other.
so i respond, "nah. i left all my change at home..."
she looks back and says, "oh. nah. i said, 'what'sup, buddy'."
i think to myself, "sure. and i'm the pope's illegitimate sun." although, there's no proof to the contrary, but that's another matter altogether.
then, as i'm walking off, she cries out, "hey, hey! wait a minute," as she's holding her hand out for dap, i turn around, and we approach each other. dap. then she looks down at my arms (exposed because of my wearing the wife-beat). "damn. you play football. don't you?" (rhetorical question).
as i'm responding with a negative, she leans in a lays her head on my chest... ?!?

a little bit of cleavage goes a long way...

2009-08-18T15:53:00.001-07:00

i've been meaning to write this post for the past couple of weeks now, so it's likely that i've forgotten half of what i want to say, but anyhows... let me address women showing titties while at work. it's a touchy subject, simply for the fact that as a man, when i see non-concealed cleavage, it just makes me think of all the fun activities i like to engage in with breasts (of the fairer sex)... but that's a whole other story altogether, although not completely. it's because of these thoughts i wonder about cleavage when i need not to be wondering about cleavage. hmmm. "why," i know you're wondering, "do i think about breasts when i'm not supposed to?" it's because they're out when i'm at work. aha, so i finally get to the point. there are lace linings of cleavages, plunging necklines, and sometimes even a sexy shadow or two, hinting of wanton areolas. i certainly don't walk around the office with half my chest exposed, and it's generally more socially acceptable for a man to show his chest than a woman. then why is it that women feel particularly obligated to walk around, as if pronouncing the grand exhibition of their decolletage? it's distracting, it's immodest, and it's unprofessional. so this goes out to all the eve's out there, teasing the adams of the work place: ladies, stop showing your titties at work.

not diverse enough

2009-07-17T04:53:00.000-07:00

as many of you know, i'm doing my first rotation (family medicine) in burnsville, nc. it's a tiny town of about 1600 residents, quaint and comfortable. the surroundings are beautiful if not wondrous, being in the mountains and all. i meet a lot of people everyday, working at a family practice, and inevitably some of those people ask me, "are you going to come back here and practice?" now, i have a very short response in my mind, which i'll get to, but what generally comes out of my mouth is this, "[laugh] i don't know where i'll end up..." following with my remarking how i'm in the army and how i have military obligations and such. however, what really goes through my mind is, "there are way too many white people here..."

that thought makes me think now, has made me think for a while. it's the same reason, i would never go back and live in iowa, the same reason i think that i wouldn't live any where else where there wasn't an acceptable percentage of people of color. diversity. it's a word i use more when speaking to the locals in this area, particularly when i'm in asheville, when people ask me how i like the area. i tell them fine, but it's not diverse enough. so i'm wondering now, is that statement the same as saying, "there are too many white people." it also makes me wonder how would i feel, if i were white and someone told me where i lived wasn't diverse enough. being the more global-minded person that i am, i expect that i would understand where said person was coming from, that i would be perceptive of my surroundings. along the same lines, i don't ever recall having asked a white person would they live somewhere with the relevant response being, "there are too many black people." interestingly enough, it can be argued that saying "there are too many asians" or "latinos" or "blacks" are all different notions, based on the differences in culture and differences in the perceptions of the respective minority groups. still, the underlying idea is the same.

race is still a touchy topic for most people, and no matter how much i believe myself to have grown as a person, i still have my reservations about white vs color. i still feel more comfortable around people of color, and most comfortable around black people. this is despite the fact that i spent three years in iowa (3% black), going to iowa state university (6% black); despite the fact that i spent a year in switzerland with the only black people being africans who don't really consider themselves black (as we do in america, but that's another subject altogether). a lot of it has to do with growing up in a town where black children get called niggers (an insult meant to inferioritize the target) in school by the white children, where such name-calling is more or less condoned by the teachers. a town where black kids have gone on camping trips with their white friends and have "mysteriously" drowned. a town where even today black voters are turned back from the polls and told they have to go through incomprehensible procedures in order to place their ballots.

i think it's the knowledge of the aforementioned events and experiences that renders me unsettled, regardless of reality. there are many individual white people that i love. there are a couple of white families that i love like my own. i never judge and individual before i meet one, but nevertheless, the large group dynamic does anything but allow me a comfortable mind state. i would hate to think that makes me a racist, but i doubt i'll be able to outgrow the discomfort. so, i would not live here in bursnville, or asheville, and i wouldn't live in iowa, simply because it's not diverse enough...

everything short of wearing hoods and yelling "white power!"

2009-06-16T16:13:00.001-07:00

check out this article:
http://www.heraldnet.com/article/20090614/NEWS01/706149860&news01ad=1

it's about the only article i could find on the matter of the minutemen project's massacre (incomplete) of the flores family. the mother survived the attack, and the older daughter was not home when the incident occurred. it's very surprising that there are not too many articles i could find, covering the subject. i had to go through someone else's blog to find one. also of significant remarkability is the fact that the minutemen are considered an activist group. that, to me, is completely preposterous. i ask myself, "do activists rob people at gunpoint?" "do activists break into people's homes and murder them?" i can't say that i can think of any activist group that does. i could think of an "activist group" that preys upon and terrorizes minorities (or at least they used to, now i think they just smuggle drugs and have town hall meetings to stir up anti-minority sentiment). the group of which i speak wears hoods, has leaders called grand dragons, and yells "white power!" a lot, but if i'm not mistaken, this group isn't really an activist group...

...the voice of God

2009-06-05T11:54:00.001-07:00

not too many people know of this story because it's not one i tell too lightly, or too often for the matter (and to be more accurate). nevertheless, i once had a brush with God-like powers.

it all started back my freshman year of college, during second semester. it was a new semester, and not because of the new year. nope. that happens every 365 days. this semester was new because i had just switched from a computer science major to a biology major (can anyone say, "ahh! so here's where all the girls went..."?). needless to say, i was much appreciative of the change of scenery in the classrooms and labs. to get on to the more relevant details, i feel that i much first introduce a few key points about setting : (1) one of my best friends and i (we'll just call him a-jizzle, for reference sake and to protect his identity) were more or less inseparable that semester, (2) we were both ferocious party animals, (3) it was mid winter in the midwest, and (4) i was stuck in a frozen-over ocean of cornfields (some people may identify this particular place as one of the lesser known states--simply, iowa). being the ravenous pursuers of debauchery that we were, we never went many nights of the week without being at a party, or at least the semblance of a social function if there was alcohol involved. and this night was no different. it was a house party, typical scene for freshman year, with kegs and lots of drunk and not so drunk universitarians ready to unleash the pent up frustrations of trudging through snow and ice for a week in order to get to place of supreme bliss at which we could only arrive by the good graces our great friend al (mr. cohol that is). the party was nothing remarkable, there were a few people we know, plenty of random guys to ignore, and a several chicks whose acquaintances we didn't mind making. i set my aim on one girl in particular, and while i can't remember her name, i can remember certain details about her personality. she was nice, and sweet, and several other similar adjectives that you can use your imagination to think of. that's neither here nor there. what i noticed about her was that she was a) fairly attractive (definitely a 2 on the 2 point system), b) not sober, and c) had sizable breasts. i knew the girl but had never had any real conversation with her, so i took this opportunity to rectify the lack thereof. i went up and said hello, and she gave the ecstatic i'm-drunk-and-glad-to-see-you "hey" that people give when they're drunk and excited to see someone. i saw this as a plus. we started conversation, small talk really, before moving on to heavier issues.

"i'm tired of guys who only try to talk to me because of my body!" she exclaimed after a guy walked past and stares unabashedly at her chest.

"you're body? what are you talking about?"

"you know... what's the first thing you notice when you saw me."

i'd been waiting for an opportunity like this, and so i replied, "your eyes of course. they're blue and beautiful."

she smiled, blushed, and tilted her head a little to the side. looked me right in the eyes and said, "awww, thanks. you're so sweet." i was glowing. and with the warmth of that moment, i could have sworn i felt a little piece of her heart melt into mine.

"so sweet" is probably what many of you reading this are thinking, while contrarily others are thinking, "what bullshit, " and "what bullshit" is correct. i had very little game back then, else i would have said what was very obvious and made some clever comments to follow, making her laugh. we all know that nice guys finish last (to be oh so cliché), but that's another story all together.

so the girl and i talked a little more, and i felt like i was making good progress. progress towards what, was what any 19 college kid would've been striving for, with a certain set of intellectual skills, with his logic fueled by lust and liquor. inevitably i ran out of beer and had to go make a trip to the keg. trying to mentally wade through the interminable 10 minutes it takes to get from the back of the line at the keg to the front and refill my cup, i was running through what i could say or do to better my already assured position--so i perceived--with my quarry. i had just retanked my ambrosia and was heading back to what i knew would the be the "seal the deal" moments, when i heard a raucous cheering, wild whistling included. i walked over to see what the commotion was about, and there it was. my my-aren't-you-so-sweet girl in full on make-out session with a burly looking half-giant. the shock of that sight rendered me understandably nonplussed, as i muttered to myself, "what the fuck..." i quickly drained my cup, and headed back to the fountain of youth. fortunately there weren't but a few people standing around, in the vicinity of, the keg, and i unquestioningly assumed they weren't really in line, or if they were they didn't want to be while i was trying to make my way through. i homed straight to the tap, reached out my party flask, and demanded boisterously, to make sure i was heard over the crowd, even though the cheers had since died down, "more beer!" as liquid gold started filling my cup, i hear from my left, and slightly behind me, "OH SHIT! YOU'RE ROD, THE VOICE OF GOD!!!" i turned slowly, the crowd turned, heads poked out from around the corner of the kitchen door, all to regard, with shock and awe, my apotheosis. i had let the phrase go to my head before even critically analyzing the depth of such a statement.

"yes. i am the voice i God." i reasoned with myself. "i can just turn back the last few minutes and make everything right!" then the visage of my angel registered in the sober section of my brain, and i recognized him for what he truly was, just another random party-goer. just like me. i felt my confidence drop down through my neck, bursting through my chest, and shattering my heart into 1000 tiny red fragments. but still, who was this guy? there was an awkward moment, a very long awkward moment. as i just stare at they guy, and the not so harsh realization that nothing grand would occur fell on the surveyors of the scene. i tried to moved, but for one reason or another i could not escape the gaze of my would-be angel. i stared at him, and he at me. the tension, of what has probably become the most significant exemplification of how to freak-out one on whome you have a man-crush, was finally shattered when one of my classmates and hang-out buddies, joe appeared seemingly out of nowhere and laughed uncontrollably. it was as if someone had put the needle back on track, and the music started to play once more in the discordant symphony that was my mind. i looked confusedly at joe, and he obliged to explain. apparently someone in my biology class had jokingly made the comparison of my voice sounding like God, so a few people had started to refer to me as, none other than, "rod, the voice of God."

Psalm for my Sister

2009-05-16T06:36:00.000-07:00

this is the poem i wrote my sister for her graduation, since i couldn't be there in person...

Psalm for my Sister

if you were a tree, to make my embrace,

i would grow the largest, doing much

as any leaf does, when bathed in the sun

gathering rays for nourishment and love.

none would absorb more warmth than me,

while you withdraw water from the ground,

vitamins and minterals, growing branches

out further and farther to hold us all down.

i’d see more than any, being your biggest leaf.

if you were stargazing, your mind reaching

out to the stars at night, pinpoints of light

seeping down through darkness and piercing

your sight to home visions behind your eyes,

i would be the largest constellation in the sky,

a glimmering armor-clad knight with buckler

swinging out, blocking away shadowy tufts

and a sword striking at the moon, turning

it’s dark side away, so you could see it shine.

or you could gaze at the sky during the day,

and i would be a cumulus and make shapes,

like so many ridiculous balloon animals with

soft fluffy edges, powdery white, waving

across the horizon, like an old snuggly blanket

slowly floating down over you from the sky.

if i were a hamster stuck in a wire cage,

i would share it, if you got stuck too,

my exercise wheel and hamster maze,

all colors and twists, loops and rounds,

running so many circles until we got out.

if i were a bird soaring, saw you in unsteady

flight, i would give you one of my wings,

sing you a song, each beat to the rhythm,

to help you reach the breeze and fly free.

if i were your brother, if you were my sister

i would tell you how very much you meant,

to the world, to your family, to your friends.

i would make you laugh when you were down,

i would hang onto words, and grab onto ideas,

glad that you would share apart of your world,

feeling the crush in my chest from your heartaches,

suffering stabs in my skull from your headaches,

smiling like i found diamonds in glittering eyes,

when happiness escapes from your glowing face.

though we were not born of the same seed or blood,

or place, we have indeed grown of the same mind,

not biologically related, but still in kind: you are my

psychological sister, of the heart, and of the soul,

my golden sister in this life, as our times unfold.

rain boots

2009-05-07T13:06:00.001-07:00

it has come to my astute attention over the last couple of years that some members of the chapel hill community have deemed themselves above ridicule of social ineptitude and decided that wearing rain boots is a totally agreeable fashion statement. now, i know you're thinking to yourself, "why does it matter if they wear rain boots? they're just kids. right?" wrong. they are not "just kids." these are fully formed adult human beings who for an inane reason i can't wrap my head around walk around in rain boots, as if that's what's hot these days. let me clear something up. neither is wearing rain boots cute, nor is it socially acceptable among self-respecting adults. in fact, i would go so far as to say that above the age of 8, there is absolutely no reason to wear rain boots. i'm sure you could think of any number of arguments, such as fishermen wearing fishing boots. well they're fishermen. it's part of their fishing wardrobe, just as cops wear starched polyester blue shirts with shiny yellow badges. now it's not that i'm just saying this to be spiteful, but it's objectively infantile when 22 year olds walk around campus, while the sun is shining brightly, with knee high rubber boots and think that they're not committing a social misstep (tangent: some people would have used "faux-pas," the french word for misstep, but i for one am not a fan of inserting random, or not so random, foreign words into an english sentence).

case in point. a couple weeks ago, it rained early in the morning, but the forecast was sunny for the majority of the day. no reason to wear rain boots for an hour or two when the sun's going to be brilliant for the rest of the day. right? wellll, while i'm out and about, on campus of course, what do i see but a socially self-righteous member of the "i'm going to wear rain boots even though i'm a grown woman" club. it was clearly not raining, and the sun was ostensibly shining. so, in order to oblige her need to wear those rain boots, i summarily bumped into her and knocked her into a mud puddle. she had the nerve to give me an indignant look when i was obviously doing her a favor, because hey, she had to use those rubber boots for something.

response to tiffany's "reading in bed"

2009-05-04T11:04:00.000-07:00

this is my response to tiffany's "reading in bed". preface: tiffany and i went to undergrad together, and she was (i suppose still is) a cool girl. but anyhows... here's the link http://accordingtojovan.wordpress.com/2009/05/03/sexy-equals-reading-in-bed
truth be told, i think it’s a bit different for guys on the whole physical front. and that’s not to say for all guys, but let’s make a generalization (not an over-generalization). guys have a certain, shall we say, threshold over which a girl has to be attractive, and depending on how much above that threshold she indicates how satisfied he is with her physically. that being said, looks only last so long. the more time you spend with someone you like, the better that person looks. common knowledge. right? anyhows, it’s always the conversation that gets me personally. it’s soooo hard to find someone who can make good conversation. a good conversationalist is not an urbane entity. the good conversationalist, redundancy to emphasize the point, is rare and invaluable. there are dozens of good looking people all around you (well, depending on where you are). that doesn’t mean that they can talk attractively just because they look that way…

what i discovered on my last trip to chicago

2009-04-03T08:25:00.000-07:00

1. one doesn't necessarily get kicked out of a bar/club for only trying to go to sleep

2. storing one's jacket with those of strangers is not a good idea (i.e. use the ever-loving coat check)

3. asking a girl to be one's next baby's momma actually works as a pickup line, as long as one doesn't actually utter the phrase "baby's momma"

4. married women do things when they're out that would probably lead me to choking my wife. that is if i had a wife, and if i discovered said wife did what some of the married women did, whom i met in chicago

5. chapel hill is not quite as diverse as i would like it to be

better than crack!

2009-02-23T19:51:00.000-08:00

today... it was awesome (in a good way) and terrible, all at the same time. many of you know that i'm on my "spring break: six pack or bust" campaign. that being said, i'm into heavy and light lifting, and i'm taking all kinds of supplements at the moment. well tonight, i came across a combination that must rival cocaine in its capacity to get you WIRED. i mean, i felt like "fuck superman flying around in a cape, i'm america's next super hero in gym shorts and a sweaty workout tee." i just knew i could lift any amount of weight (disproven summarily when i almost blew my knee out on doing my second set of leg pressing 720 lbs), i could come up with more than brilliant ideas, i could pick up any chick i saw. in short, i felt all-capable, and also slightly invincible.

being at the gym, i accordingly finished my work out, and decided to test the wonders of my new found powers. so, i step up to the first attractive girl i see. i look into her eyes. i smile. she smiles... then i quickly side-step her and continue on my merry way. my brain is running on jet fuel, so quickly are my thoughts running through my head that anything clever i think to say is too fleeting to grasp. so much for being better than superman...

dysphoria

2008-10-29T06:17:00.000-07:00

dysphoria can be defined as a negative or aversive emotional state, and right now i'm feeling quite a bit of negativity and aversion. as i sit here, in a pulmonary hypertension lecture, i contemplate how i've already heard all the information given in this lecture at least twice before, and that's just for this block (respiratory disease). with so many time constraints imposed upon us by the school of medicine, one must wonder, "why in the hell are we going over this material for the 3rd time?" is it because of poor coordination of course materials? check. is it because they're trying to pound this information into our heads? also, check. then why is it that some lectures, with immensely more complex material, bombard us, students, with 2-2.5 hours worth of material squeezed into a 50 minute lecture, and we only see that material once? who the hell knows. not too mention that it's about 80 something degrees in this lecture hall. hot and humid. my nostrils are stopped up as we speak, and it would be quite the social/professional faux pas, if i were to step out and not return. hell, i breath of fresh air would be so welcome right now, and cool crisp air is only a few steps away...

and that's just one part. i've gotten to the point that i usually get to where i start to despise all the people i've previously been ambivalent about. let me preface that statement with a description of how i generally view people. when i meet someone, i usually place them into one of the following categories "i like that person" or "i'm ambivalent." most people are filed under the latter. rare is the day when i meet someone whom i immediately i decide that i don't like. still, over time people can be moved from one category to another. if moved into the "i don't like" category i generally try to avoid that person. however, being stuck in a room full of people for hours on end every day it's kind of hard to avoid seeing a person i don't like. not that seeing the person per se is bad, just the thoughts engendered. example: yesterday i'm in class, and i make a couple of comments about Chyna (born Joan Marie Laurer, former WWE superstar), and one of the chicks in the class, presumably she's chinese, goes and says, "i'm getting offended..." at which point everyone looks at her like she's an idiot. 1st of all, how do you get a person's name confused with a reference to a country? idiot. do you ever hear parisiens getting offended at the mention of paris hilton's name? and secondly, how are you getting offended? either you are or you aren't. i despise dumbasses with a passion. they make me want to commit physical acts of violence...

all of that on top of having to deal with a delusional ex gf who can't seem to get past the sad (or not so sad) fact that our relationship is over. not even going to get into that...

thank goodness the lecture just ended.

A Pimp Named Jojo

2008-08-29T07:29:00.000-07:00

many people don't know this story, but i feel it needs to be told. it's a tale set in a simple town called fayetteville, of my run-in with the legendary pimp, a pimp named jojo. now i know a lot of you are already asking yourselves, "what makes jojo so legendary?" and to answer that question, one must first take a look at what it is to be a pimp. so here's your generic pimp checklist:

1) long hair (permed)

2) manicured fingernails

3) pimpalicious suit (including gators), OR any pimped out threads (and fly footwear)

4)excessive use of the word "bitch"

5) hoes.

duly note that the fifth point of the checklist is a paradoxically secondary parameter, i.e. the first four points can precipitate the fifth; however, (5) hoes is necessitated inherently in what we should say is in all actuality "pimp-hood." now let's have a look at where jojo fits in on the checklist:

5) hoes.

and that's it. HOWEVER, jojo was 6'8", 360 lbs of impressiveness with a mind to match, and ridiculously good looking (the latter is purely hearsay). so now you're wondering how and where do i fit into the story, and the proceeding will appropriately answer that query...

it all starts with my going to richmond (aka river city), virginia for the summer. it wasn't too memorable, judging by how little recollection i have of my time spent in richmond, but i guess that's another story entirely. anyway, the summer ends, and it's time for me to make the trek back to tha shel (otherwise known as "shelby"), and instead driving me back down to tha shel as previously agreed, my grandfather elects to send me back home by public transportation, specifically by way of the greyhound. i suppose this is a good time to mention that at the time, i'm only 12 years old. nevertheless, i'm smart, brave, and resourceful... most of the time, but you could never tell me any differently. that is not then, at least. so i hop on the bus to make my trek back home, much to the dismay of my fretful mother, and boy did that end in quite the tongue lashing of my grandfather (a little chronologically out of place at this point in the story but keep in mind that it did indeed happen). now i'm on the bus, expecting to get home in about 4.5 hours when i notice that the bus isn't going in the usual direction that i had taken by car on previous trips, so i get a little worried. i ask the bus driver, "uhh, aren't we going to charlotte?" to which the driver replies, "hahaha, no. i'm going to fayetteville. you can transfer there." great. so now, i'm 12, traveling on a bus full of strangers, stuck in a seat between a really fat old woman and the wall of the potty, and headed to a city i've never been to before. but no worries: i'm smart, brave, and resourceful (if need be). after a few hours, we finally get to fayetteville. i go and inquire about the bus to charlotte, only to be told that the next bus that leaves for charlotte is in another 4 and a 1/2 hours. just fcucking great. i don't know if you've ever been to the main bus station in fayetteville, but it's a bit dodgy if i don't say so myself. so i look around, and there are quite a few (and by that i mean predominantly) suspect characters lurking around, or at least it seems that way to my beginning-to-be-frightened 12 year old mind. i start recalling stories of defenseless youths getting raped, kidnapped and tortured, outright killed by sick old men. i rush to the phones and call my mom, but by the time she would make it to fayetteville, the bus would be leaving, so it's just as well that i wait for the bus. i find the open seat closest to the ticket counter and try to look as inconspicuous as possible.

now here's where the action begins, about 30 minutes into my wait at fayetteville greyhound station, and who arrives, bombastically making an entrance? none other than a pimp named jojo, all 6'8", 360 lbs. he comes in, and you can't help but to notice, as he blots out the sunlight coming through the doors. he looks around, and spots what he's looking for: one of his hoes. "you know i been out, and you ain't came to see me!?!" all heads turn and come in sync with jojo's line of sight, coming to rest on a platinum blond BOMBSHELL. i kid you not: 5'11", long legs, long lustrous platinum blond (natural) hair, huge tits, and gorgeous face. she replies "i was goin ta see my bruther..." to which jojo replies, "naw, bitch. you don't make a move without jojo knowing. you don't make a move without the permission of jojo. you know who tha hell i am!..." at this point jojo is taking steps toward said ho, and bystanders are furtively taking steps away and for good reason. jojo continues to talk and stalk towards the ho, he gets within 5 yards, and she finally stands up from her chair. the area, by the way, is clear of any other soul. blondie turns as if to walk away, and jojo lunges out, landing a big foot right between the ass cheeks of the blond, bombshell of a ho. and WOW, she goes sprawling to the ground a good 5 feet away. it's stark quiet by this point except for the vociferous haranguing being given by jojo the pimp to his ho. by this time the greyhound security, who seemingly comes out of nowhere, has started to get interested in the situation. there are two of them, and one named... hell i don't remember, but let's call him curtis for reference sake. "aight nah, jojo. that's enough." intercedes curtis as he takes steps toward jojo, his partner meekly in tow.

"that's ENOUGH!?! you don't make a move without my say so in this town. I'M JOJO!!!"

"i know, i know. but let's calm down jojo. let's calm down"

apparently, telling a quasi giant pimp in mid rampage to calm down, is not the right thing to do. at this time the security guards are pretty close to jojo (i really don't know what the hell they thought they might do), blondie is crawling her way back to standing position, and jojo is glaring at security, eyes shifting back and forth between security and blondie. then 3 events happen in rapid progression:

1) security tries to lay hands on jojo in an attempt to lead him towards the doorway

2) jojo manhandles security, tossing both men effortlessly to the ground like old toys on Christmas morning

3) blondie gets to her feet and tried to run in the opposite direction as jojo.

jojo then proceeds to run down blondie, grab her by the hair and shirt and literally drag her out of the bus station, ripping her top in the process. in some random craziness, the blond ho's titties happen to pop out, and all the male eyes in the place are riveted, as they see titties sliding evenly towards the exit/entrance. all the female mouths are hanging open, aghast at the scene. the security guards are lying helplessly on the ground, defeated with looks of utter dejection on their faces and powerless to do anything.

i must say the whole experience was both exhilarating and terribly frightening at the same time, yet it made the whole experience worth it. i made it home, safe and sound, with a little more knowledge of how the world works. i don't exactly know the background story of the blond and jojo, still, rumor has it that the blond ho was never seen again...

(well not at least in that bus station)

and that, my friends, is the story of a pimp named jojo

SATC

2008-06-08T05:38:00.000-07:00

it seems the nation is divided... i come to this conclusion after having discussed the film with several friends of mine. given that i don't know any other guys who've actually seen the movie, only one of my friends actually thought the movie was really good. needless to say, she's not the very best at making appraisals of film, seeing as how she said that "fashion" was one of the reasons that sex and the city was so good.

so with the discussion in mind, i went to my favorite movie rating web site, and what do i see but a flabbergasting 4.8 rating for sex and the city. women say sex and the city was a "perfect" movie, men say it was a "piece of [expletive deleted]". actually, i would say ALL the voting has been skewed. women voted too highly for the film, and men voted to lowly (i suppose that's the word i'm looking for). I personally rated the film as a 6. I was certainly shocked to have seen the 4.8 rating until i looked at the voting demographics where so many more men had voted. looking at the 66 voters of the top 1000, who voted for the film, the mean was close to a 6, if you make adjustments. it's clear the film does not deserve a 1... on the other hand, neither does it deserve a 10. i mean really, as a movie the script was too predictable, the plot was lacking in creativity, and it was simply overextended. granted the "fashion" aspect may have been a factor for some women to have thought so highly of the film, but fashion is not what makes a movie...

Politicians are snakes...

2008-05-23T07:27:00.000-07:00

No matter what you think, no matter who you know, a politician is subversive and serpentine. Let's take our presidential candidates for example, starting with John McCain. Really, he's talking global warming, and his party leader (one Mr. President George W. Bush) is NOT happy. GWB is a most notorious shot blocker of the Kyoto Protocols. Furthermore, any man running for presidency who says one day that the economy is fine and that the common people are fine, then the next day turns around and says we have a problem is [economically idiotic] obviously sliding around on his belly hissing at all the ambient rodents (rats)... plus his wife looks like an alien...

Moving on to our next "proponent of the people," Hillary R-Clinton. Simply enough, it should suffice to say that her husband was a snake, and we all know that reptiles of the same leather slither together...

And now for the main man of the hour... Barrrrrrack "Sadam" Hussein Obama. Now, I know you're thinking, "but Barrack's NOT a snake..." Whatever. I can see you with your arms akimbo, doing a "Z" snap and bobbling your head like the idiot you are. Of course Barracks a snake. He is a politician. Isn't he? He says that he's a straight talker, so we'll just see how straight this talker is. The man disowned his former pastor, after having said that the man was his "spiritual mentor." Bullshit. Grow some balls, Barrack. The future democratic nominee claims that his former spiritual mentor's comments go against everything he (Barrack) claims to be. Again: bullshit. If Barrack was indeed intent on being only nominated on his own ideologies, if he was truly sincere, then he wouldn't even mention the other candidates. How many times has Hillary's name or McCain's name came out of Barrack's mouth? I recognize BS when when I smell it, and I'm calling Obama on his...