Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Wussup Party Peoples?

Now before you continue, don't get your hopes up expecting another riveting story from the book of jokes that is my life. This is just a post to let all of my fans out there (all three of you) know that I'm still alive, but barely breathing under this avalanche of work, commitments and (seemingly permanent) sexual frustration. Yeah, abstinence isn't as easy as it sounds. You try abstaining for 17 years!


Nothing really new or interesting happening here for now... Hmmm.... lemme think long and hard........ well.... there is this one girl who seems to have peeked my interest, but that's about all I can say about that....

Well I guess my life is as empty as my fridge and as lonely as my bed at night, which is pretty sad I must admit.

Still no sex, no girlfriend and no cheat codes to Splinter Cell to get me past this stink-ass jungle level.

Oh wait, there is a party on December the ninth that I hope to be going to.... there'll definitely be an update shortly after those festivities... I think...

Boring post isn't it?


Didn't I tell you that it would be? People still don't listen do they?!

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Shook Mail pt. 2

Apparently this internet giant has alot of people running scared, believeing everything it tells them.

While we speak of cyberspace, I shall refer heavily to the Matrix for the next few paragraphs.

I see the source of all the problems with email on the internet as Morpheus, your email account as the randomly ringing phone with no caller-ID and the blissfully ignorant mass of E-succlers (people that read chainletters and relay the scourges of internet bliss) as a sea of potential Neos.

Daily, the phone rings and one of the Neos answers it with that vacant Crash Bandicoot expression on his face. All of a sudden, Morpheus jumps up on his table and starts screaming monkey chant instructions at Neo via the telephone, and the fool in return covers his head and does exactly what Morpheus says.

Neo sends information to all the other gullible masses who also relay the shit fest until it crosses my path. I am an agent. A cleaning agent if you must. I am here to (hopefully) once and for all rid the internet of this garbage that is causing a massive traffic pile up on the information super highway. I am here to force a rebirth of the Matrix in a huge wave of information proliferation, starting with... ah shit, let's get to the point!

1. Paying for MSN hotmail - if Bill Gates ever in his right mind decided that MSN (the free email service for us poor niggers) could only be accessible by giving money (another thing niggas don't like to do) then he would hold a conference with media and press for you to see it on TV and hear it on the radio... and not send a personal email to your buddy in the cubicle next to you informing him of the major multi-billion dollar corporation's decision. Think about it, is the office drone 2 feet away that important?

2. Friendship Networks - if it ain't Hi5 or MySpace don't send it to me. You see, Trinidad s a democracy so popular = best. BoBo.com, Tag and BoseeBackBumbaClaut.org do not ticle my fancy.

3. My name is not Aberheim Zerkhezi- I did not invent the Blowfish Encryption or the encrytion algorithm used by the NSA or CIA. Do not send me a message that looks like it passed through an encrytion blender. Please.

I didn't get any mail like that in a while, but i'll be happy to demonstrate:



l8rs hoss!

That was an example of a mesage I got from my buddy a while ago. I can't read that! And the worst part about it was that the message was about 4 megs in size - this was back when hotmail gave you a whopping 10 megabytes of email space. You can imagine my disgust.

4. Fuck Luck - You cannot tell me to send something on to a million people in 5 seconds or i'll lose my penis in the next coming moments. Bullshit!! Bad Luck (what I believe) is when your heavenly window of blessings temporarily closes
How about this for a bad luck threat:

Stick 4 razer blades, a pineapple and a porcupine up your ass within the next 5 minutes or your mother will die, a 3 legged donkey will piss on her grave and the swirling sands from the Desert of Lost Souls will find you, engulf you and rip the tender flesh from your brittle bones.

Can you imagine your friends send you these kinds of threats?

5. Finally, Jesus loves you no mater who you are or how many emails you forward. I firmly believe that He is not going to sit all te way up there on His throne, watch your hotmail account and say "You dare defy me!! Forward that message with the earthly representation of Me (that happens to be highly inaccurate) or you will forever burn in the pits of junk email!!!" I think He has better things to do... Unless He's bored... which he isn't. God will love you even if you delete those foolish chainletters. Those letters were started by people who wanted internet recognition among their stupid group of friends, so they compose an email that will make everybody feel guilty to delete and obligated to pass on.

Do like I do when you see them: Check th ebox next to the email> Click "Delete". I do it and I'm still here.

So please, my friends, stop sending me things that waste my time and clog my inbox. Thank you.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Broke as a Mother F***

Yeah well I suppose the title of this post says it all. Damn, those bitches on the manufacturing and selling side of the fence just know how to siphon a nigga's money right out of his pocket.

It's like they lure you to the store with the pretty lights, and as you walk through the door your money some how comes alive and prances its way out of your pocket, roams the aisles and grabs stuff, put it in your hand, ushers you to the cashier's desk, jumps in the cash register which triggers the conveyor belt that pulls you (slowly but surely) right out the door and all this happens before you can greet the sales clerks.

Its ridiculous how I have money one moment, and none the next. The above explanation was the only way I could explain how I end up in these financial quandaries (and at the worst times too).

I have a grand total of $20 in my pocket, and this is before the launch of the PS3 and the beginning of the Holiday season when old female friends of mine seem to crawl out from every crab hole in the gutter to ask for a present. A present that if not presented could mean the end of my balls as I know it.

Just last week, I decided to buy an nVidia 7950 graphics card for $2 500, now I hear this week that the 8800 is going to blow that away (no really, it's gonna bend the 7950 over and deliver it!) and it sells for $425 USD. Yeah, it's just that easy to misspend $2500.

Why do they taunt me so?

My friend Willy on the other had (stone cold gangsta/hustler) knows how to make paper. The man sells the shit that'll make you flip! Gummy bears, Chinese mango, Cakes... the man is the king of this shit man!! If only UTT had such a vast buyers market for such things. Nigga, I'd be on the top. Then again, QRC is practically a drag mall; You can go to school and buy shoes if you're lucky. I wish I were still a student there though.

More on that last piece in the next post.

My eyes hurt and my head throbs. Please let me rest oh mighty Internet.

Pathos Verdes III