Wow, it's been a while since i've seen this page! Ah yes, the old blogger New Post editor - how ya been, old friend?
Well I can't tell you that life's not been interesting for the time that i've been MIA. It's been riddled with moments that a gravel-voiced narrator would have had something extremely profound to say.
Oh, how rude of me, I didn't even tell you what's been keeping me away. Well i'll tell you:
Three words U T T - and another one - Exams. Yes my dear readers, exams have been the hinderence to my creativity and the improper exercise routine that prevented me from flexing the old literary muscle.
Things have indeed been interesting while i've been busy "not reporting" to you. Let's see, um.. things with the wife are good (thank God), I made a short video that's been creating quite a lot of buzz among the thespian crowd which, in turn led me to the recruiting of a fully dedicated cast and crew for the Minimum Pleasure Finale. Trust me, these guys won't play around.. hell, they might even show up early for rehearsals. What else... well exams are over and my excitement is pretty much understood... and um.. that's pretty much it. I did go up on stage for Writer's Block though. I didn't get through to be one of the actual contestants but I was asked to put a little something together for an "Open mic" session that they had at the show. I put something together in about 5 or 10 mins and recited my piece (with much nervousness and fear) when the time came.
To say that the crowd didn't like it would be a lie, unfortunately to say that the crowd did like it would also be a lie. I dunno, I didn't really get time to go down there and ask "so did you like my piece?" but judging from the applause that I got at the end, I got the feeling that it was the "standard" applause package they gave me - you know, the kind of clapping that sounds like the crowd conspired to form a net to save you from the sharp rocks of embarrassment at the end of your long and fast fall of shame? Yeah, that kind of applause.
The response could have stemmed from a number of things - maybe it was because I didn't give a long or clear enough introduction; maybe it was because my hand was shaking like the last leaf on an autumn tree; or maybe it was because my piece was too profound (by too, I mean more than it needed to be) to be understood fully by the audience; or maybe it was the fact that I couldn't read the piece properly due to the lack of voice amplifying equipment. I had to shout the whole time! Aah, whatever... i'll get them next time. WHo knows? Maybe they did like it and i'm just being paranoid...
So anyway, that's my life up to this point and a brief run-through of the most significant event I can remember....
I really missed you guys while I was away. I promise i'll try to keep the updates regular as I'm on vacation. I might even have a few video surprises for you as well ;)
Hey it's December and I'm posting! That means I gotta do the obligatory well wishes of the commercial... uh.. I mean Christmas season (he, he). So Merry Christmas From the DiegoDeviant to you and yours!
Stay frosty!
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Will You Halo Me?
Gamernode: News - Guy proposes to girlfriend through Halo 3. Awwww
This guy proposed to his girlfriend (of all people) using the Halo 3 game. People just find more and more ways of going to the old regret seizure (marriage) these days...
This guy proposed to his girlfriend (of all people) using the Halo 3 game. People just find more and more ways of going to the old regret seizure (marriage) these days...
Blogged with Flock
Monday, November 05, 2007
I Rocked the Vote, Baby!!
At 2:30 in the pm, I entered the La Puerta Gov't school a boy and left... a man! Yes fine people of the country, I rocked the vote this year around (no longer a voting virgin) and I got my ink to prove it:
Look at that hot red finger... and the dude it belongs to lol
Anyway, I got my ink and whatnot, went about my day as normal. I "Put d X by the balisier" lol (Though my X came out sideways because I held the stamp the wrong way (pathetic, but they better has count it!) Oh yes, so the polls deviginized me once and for all, now I can officailly be among those grumpy old men in the barber shop that argue about all this... politics.
That's all our fingers (mine, mom, sister). My mother had to be the ridiculous one and dip her finger in the ink tub until it reached the bottom. For my sister and me on the other had, the Elections Clerk had to tell us not to fear the ink.
So that's one problem solved, the other is how i'm going to get this damn ink off... looks like nail polish.
Look at that hot red finger... and the dude it belongs to lol
Anyway, I got my ink and whatnot, went about my day as normal. I "Put d X by the balisier" lol (Though my X came out sideways because I held the stamp the wrong way (pathetic, but they better has count it!) Oh yes, so the polls deviginized me once and for all, now I can officailly be among those grumpy old men in the barber shop that argue about all this... politics.
That's all our fingers (mine, mom, sister). My mother had to be the ridiculous one and dip her finger in the ink tub until it reached the bottom. For my sister and me on the other had, the Elections Clerk had to tell us not to fear the ink.
So that's one problem solved, the other is how i'm going to get this damn ink off... looks like nail polish.
Blogged with Flock
Sunday, November 04, 2007
The Party's Over...
Well it's November 4th, exactly one day after the salt-fest that was Anonymous. OK, maybe I started off a little harsh and without a proper introduction, so I'll do all that now.
A few weeks back, I was invited via Facebook to a party called "Anonymous" by a friend of mine. Needless to say I was excited about the fact that it was a party, a thing that I haven't been to in almost forever, and even more excited that nearly all of my friends from my Al Magmata were attending. I check out the details and saw that it was club party (+1 point) and that it was being held by one of the guys I went to school with (+1 point) and as anybody who knows me already knows, I hardly attend parties that has a host that is unfamiliar to me. So so far I can dig this party, but I soon learned that I'm going to have to dig even deeper (in my pockets) to afford this ass-parade - a whopping 100 pieces of silver was the cost, but i'll still +1 point because in these instances, you're paying for comfort, safety and security.
So any way let's fast forward through my life after that point. Nothing much went on there, just "party party party" that was mostly my train of thought, so I didn't really pay much attention to anything funny or interesting...
OK so it's the night of November 3rd, hopefully the "big bang" night (I named it that for more than one reason ;) ) So my friend's mom picks me up and drops us off at the party, and after some impromptu and most unwelcomed request for my photography skills, I was on my way to the inside of the devil's sex shop.
I'm in the party now and the music hits me like a run away freight train and I'm dancing like a rat on a hot tin roof. The strobes a flashing, the bass is POUNDING and everybody has that vacant brain dead look in their eyes. I'm sure that half of them didn't know what they were doing at that point in time. Soon enough I see my friends, about 9 or 10 of them and we proceed to the bar to get some of that Hebrew juice in our systems. Me being the "soff man" that I am, did not imbibe alcohol, I just drank a Red Bull (for starters) and bought a rum & coke for my friend.
It's about half-past 12 and we're just there, calmly dancing and whatnot, scoping out the crowd and deciding who's going to be our fist victim of "dry-sodomy". Upon perusing the crowd, it was clear that there were plenty of bakes, but far too much sausage. Some of the bakes even came with their beloved sausage, so those bakes were off-limits for the night. If you didn't understand that last part, then wait till you get a little older, then go to a party for yourself and see.
At around 1:20am it was time to move, navigate though the sea of flour and meat (ok time to refer to people as people again) by flour and meat, I mean girls and boys respectively. So we're going through the crowd and just observing... observing... until we eventually got to a short stack of steps which we decided to make our base for the rest of the night, and it was around that area that the party started and ended (shortly after) for me.
There was some Soulja Boy dancing, J-Walking (from yours truly) frog backing, fresh princing, doctor byrding and pretty much any other coined dance being performed in that immediate vicinity. But like every party I've been to, there must be a "slut point" where you find a girl, or group of girls that you can marinate in. There must be a point where you must break away from your clip and scour the club for "hot bake". Then after you do your thing, you return to your "camp" all sweaty and tired with a drink in your hand to replenish your spent bodily fluids (either sweat or... the other thing). Fortunately, this point did come, and unfortunately it passed within a matter of minutes.
I don't know about the other fellas, but i'll admit that when I came back from the "slut point" I wasn't sweating because I burned a hole in some girl's pants, no my friend, I was sweating like a wood splitter because the place was jut too hot. I was also tired because I never knew that I'd have to Splinter Cell my way through a crowd - it's mentally taxing. I don't know about you, but I see no reason why a man's gyrating behind should be in contact with my person - I just can't find a circumstance where that's acceptable. Ducking and dodging these people was a task by itself.
I bet you're probably wondering why i didn't flex on anybody, right? Well to say I didn't flex on anybody would be a lie, I did have my way with a few, but it's nothing to talk about. They were either too basic or too random and crazy to actually enjoy it. There was one girl in black though.. mmmmm.... anyway so that was one of the things I encountered. The other thing I (and all of my friends) noticed were that most of the girls were just too damn salty! You try to hold one of them down and they'd turn around with this beast face no matter how gentle or abrasively you approached them, I just didn't understand it. I have never seen a bunch of unfriendly people like the girls at that party. There was one who turned around, but I wasn't sure if it was her natural face or if she put it on, but either way, refusing me that dance was the biggest favour I think anybody has ever done for me. Synergy TV was there and that video with "Sheep and the Shotgun Victim" could have ended up all over YouTube. That girl was uuuugh-leeee. Another thing to be noted was that all of the girls were excessively mobile. I began to wonder if there were hired waitresses and I wasn't aware of them. The same girl passed about 20 times and touched my ass in the same spot every time, just going to the bar and back over and over and over, they began to mess with my dance flow - having to stop and let them pass. And don't you dare try to stop them for a dance...
So I got back to my camp within the space of about 15 mins and saw my whole crew there, just looking down in the face. No questions needed to be asked. In an unheard of break of tradition, we tried the "slut point" one more time and ended up with just about the same amount of luck... Well... almost the same amount of luck. When we got back to our spot, the booty fairly left a bevy of beautiful girls at our disposal, they were all looking ready and wiling to boot. So after some brief deliberation as to who takes whom, everybody paired off with a behind and began the process of "Jamming Down"... except for I. I kept to the back beat, at this point I had given up hope for the party and just decided to let those headache inducing strobe lights do their thing.
But amidst the trampling bass and the mesmerizing lights, something caught my eye - an angel, almost completely resurrected from the sea of hideousness, a rough among all the diamonds, a thorn between the roses; but she was sad, looking envious of the good time that her friends were having... I had to do something. Now I, Kevin Sheppard, did not try to pips this lady, (I have a reputation to think of) So I go over to her and try to make her feel pretty, like her hot friend in the white mini-skirt, so I snake my way behind her, place my hands gently on her hips and move my loins ever closer; she looks back, I look into her cloudy, bloodshot eyes... and she walks away... That was the funniest yet hurtful points of the night for me. I couldn't believe it, she actually turned me down! Well what can I say, beauty is in the eyes of the desperate, right? I personally didn't find the girl even worthy of a "shake-hand", far more a dance, but oh well. I guess I got put in my place.
So that was the meat of the party for me - shoved around by the unofficial waitresses of the night, avoid male ass, get turned down by an ugly chick... but at least the lime with my friends was cool. Coming down to the end, we stood by the stairs and just had some laughs caught kicks as drunk patrons (and some of our group members) staggered to the door mumbling incoherently.
Well what followed is the norm - my mom came for us and I dropped three of my friends off at City Gate.
Now for the party rating:
Turnout: ****
Crowd Type: ***
Music: ***
Vibe/Crowd Chemisty: *
Safety and Security: *****
Price: A Little Over Average
Rating 3.4 - had all the elements of a good party, but crowd chemistry wasn't there. That was mainly due to the saltiness of the females and the fact that the crowd was comprised of groups of people that don't talk to or don't like members of other groups of people, so there was no real unity and sense of Anonymity. Everybody knew everybody else and some didn't like some.
I personally didn't have all that good of a time.
A few weeks back, I was invited via Facebook to a party called "Anonymous" by a friend of mine. Needless to say I was excited about the fact that it was a party, a thing that I haven't been to in almost forever, and even more excited that nearly all of my friends from my Al Magmata were attending. I check out the details and saw that it was club party (+1 point) and that it was being held by one of the guys I went to school with (+1 point) and as anybody who knows me already knows, I hardly attend parties that has a host that is unfamiliar to me. So so far I can dig this party, but I soon learned that I'm going to have to dig even deeper (in my pockets) to afford this ass-parade - a whopping 100 pieces of silver was the cost, but i'll still +1 point because in these instances, you're paying for comfort, safety and security.
So any way let's fast forward through my life after that point. Nothing much went on there, just "party party party" that was mostly my train of thought, so I didn't really pay much attention to anything funny or interesting...
OK so it's the night of November 3rd, hopefully the "big bang" night (I named it that for more than one reason ;) ) So my friend's mom picks me up and drops us off at the party, and after some impromptu and most unwelcomed request for my photography skills, I was on my way to the inside of the devil's sex shop.
I'm in the party now and the music hits me like a run away freight train and I'm dancing like a rat on a hot tin roof. The strobes a flashing, the bass is POUNDING and everybody has that vacant brain dead look in their eyes. I'm sure that half of them didn't know what they were doing at that point in time. Soon enough I see my friends, about 9 or 10 of them and we proceed to the bar to get some of that Hebrew juice in our systems. Me being the "soff man" that I am, did not imbibe alcohol, I just drank a Red Bull (for starters) and bought a rum & coke for my friend.
It's about half-past 12 and we're just there, calmly dancing and whatnot, scoping out the crowd and deciding who's going to be our fist victim of "dry-sodomy". Upon perusing the crowd, it was clear that there were plenty of bakes, but far too much sausage. Some of the bakes even came with their beloved sausage, so those bakes were off-limits for the night. If you didn't understand that last part, then wait till you get a little older, then go to a party for yourself and see.
At around 1:20am it was time to move, navigate though the sea of flour and meat (ok time to refer to people as people again) by flour and meat, I mean girls and boys respectively. So we're going through the crowd and just observing... observing... until we eventually got to a short stack of steps which we decided to make our base for the rest of the night, and it was around that area that the party started and ended (shortly after) for me.
There was some Soulja Boy dancing, J-Walking (from yours truly) frog backing, fresh princing, doctor byrding and pretty much any other coined dance being performed in that immediate vicinity. But like every party I've been to, there must be a "slut point" where you find a girl, or group of girls that you can marinate in. There must be a point where you must break away from your clip and scour the club for "hot bake". Then after you do your thing, you return to your "camp" all sweaty and tired with a drink in your hand to replenish your spent bodily fluids (either sweat or... the other thing). Fortunately, this point did come, and unfortunately it passed within a matter of minutes.
I don't know about the other fellas, but i'll admit that when I came back from the "slut point" I wasn't sweating because I burned a hole in some girl's pants, no my friend, I was sweating like a wood splitter because the place was jut too hot. I was also tired because I never knew that I'd have to Splinter Cell my way through a crowd - it's mentally taxing. I don't know about you, but I see no reason why a man's gyrating behind should be in contact with my person - I just can't find a circumstance where that's acceptable. Ducking and dodging these people was a task by itself.
I bet you're probably wondering why i didn't flex on anybody, right? Well to say I didn't flex on anybody would be a lie, I did have my way with a few, but it's nothing to talk about. They were either too basic or too random and crazy to actually enjoy it. There was one girl in black though.. mmmmm.... anyway so that was one of the things I encountered. The other thing I (and all of my friends) noticed were that most of the girls were just too damn salty! You try to hold one of them down and they'd turn around with this beast face no matter how gentle or abrasively you approached them, I just didn't understand it. I have never seen a bunch of unfriendly people like the girls at that party. There was one who turned around, but I wasn't sure if it was her natural face or if she put it on, but either way, refusing me that dance was the biggest favour I think anybody has ever done for me. Synergy TV was there and that video with "Sheep and the Shotgun Victim" could have ended up all over YouTube. That girl was uuuugh-leeee. Another thing to be noted was that all of the girls were excessively mobile. I began to wonder if there were hired waitresses and I wasn't aware of them. The same girl passed about 20 times and touched my ass in the same spot every time, just going to the bar and back over and over and over, they began to mess with my dance flow - having to stop and let them pass. And don't you dare try to stop them for a dance...
So I got back to my camp within the space of about 15 mins and saw my whole crew there, just looking down in the face. No questions needed to be asked. In an unheard of break of tradition, we tried the "slut point" one more time and ended up with just about the same amount of luck... Well... almost the same amount of luck. When we got back to our spot, the booty fairly left a bevy of beautiful girls at our disposal, they were all looking ready and wiling to boot. So after some brief deliberation as to who takes whom, everybody paired off with a behind and began the process of "Jamming Down"... except for I. I kept to the back beat, at this point I had given up hope for the party and just decided to let those headache inducing strobe lights do their thing.
But amidst the trampling bass and the mesmerizing lights, something caught my eye - an angel, almost completely resurrected from the sea of hideousness, a rough among all the diamonds, a thorn between the roses; but she was sad, looking envious of the good time that her friends were having... I had to do something. Now I, Kevin Sheppard, did not try to pips this lady, (I have a reputation to think of) So I go over to her and try to make her feel pretty, like her hot friend in the white mini-skirt, so I snake my way behind her, place my hands gently on her hips and move my loins ever closer; she looks back, I look into her cloudy, bloodshot eyes... and she walks away... That was the funniest yet hurtful points of the night for me. I couldn't believe it, she actually turned me down! Well what can I say, beauty is in the eyes of the desperate, right? I personally didn't find the girl even worthy of a "shake-hand", far more a dance, but oh well. I guess I got put in my place.
So that was the meat of the party for me - shoved around by the unofficial waitresses of the night, avoid male ass, get turned down by an ugly chick... but at least the lime with my friends was cool. Coming down to the end, we stood by the stairs and just had some laughs caught kicks as drunk patrons (and some of our group members) staggered to the door mumbling incoherently.
Well what followed is the norm - my mom came for us and I dropped three of my friends off at City Gate.
Now for the party rating:
Turnout: ****
Crowd Type: ***
Music: ***
Vibe/Crowd Chemisty: *
Safety and Security: *****
Price: A Little Over Average
Rating 3.4 - had all the elements of a good party, but crowd chemistry wasn't there. That was mainly due to the saltiness of the females and the fact that the crowd was comprised of groups of people that don't talk to or don't like members of other groups of people, so there was no real unity and sense of Anonymity. Everybody knew everybody else and some didn't like some.
I personally didn't have all that good of a time.
Blogged with Flock
The Hard Disk You've Benn Waiting For!
harddisk.jpg (JPEG Image, 700x1016 pixels)
WOW....Click on the above link to see the whole picture.
This thing is a whopping 10 megabytes and costs only $3398 US LMAO!!!1
Blogged with Flock
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Halloween Costume
Flickr Photo Download: OMG! Awesome Party Guy Vid!
This is what I call innovation! In case you haven't figured it out, it's a Youtube costume. if you don't know what Youtube is, then I can't help you - just turn off your computer and back away sloooowly...
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Have Faith
YOUR FILM NEEDS YOU!... Thursday, October 25, 2007, 12:04 AM"Payne & Redemption seems very ambitious and impressive. Good luck with your project! Looking forward to seeing it." - Sam Lake, creator of Max Payne & writer of the Max Payne videogames.
We've fallen on hard times, here at P&R Towers, and are in a bit of a sticky situation. To put it bluntly, we've run out of money. This latest obstacle is one we will overcome, but we need your help! For more info, check out our page HERE.......
We're fully dedicated to completing this exciting project, and realise that you've been kept waiting for so long already, so we need to press on and raise our completion funds as soon as possible.
UPDATE: Thank you to everyone who has contributed so far! You will all receive special thanks in the film's credits if we reach our goal within the allotted time frame.
Currently, to reach our goal, we need a further 990 pledges of $20.00, or 495 pledges of $40.00, or 330 pledges of $60.00 - A very realistic achievement when you put it into perspective.
So if you haven't already made a pledge or passed the link around to as many people as you can, please do so NOW! We won't let you down.
Your help is gratefully received.
Yours lying in state,
Luke "Jeff Garlin" Morgan-Rowe,
Producer by virtue of a drunken bet.
Taken from the production blog of Max Payne: Payne and Redemption.
You see? Even the big boys up on "film magic hill" hit a snag from time to time. this film has been in production for nearly three years now and is estimated to be only 17 mins long; my film has been in production for a little over a year now and is estimated to be 45-60mins long and possibly will even be finished before theirs.
Don't give up hope people, these things happen - directors hit snags all the time. It's how and when you overcome them that determines the success of your project.
With that being said and this real-life example being given, keep hope alive for K. Sheppard's YOUth - Coming Soon.
Blogged with Flock
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Just Pics I Found...
comictot14vu7.gif (GIF Image, 279x416 pixels)
Too much viagra is always a good thing :)
This is a book cover for "The Rifleman"... Whatever kind of rifle it is, I don't want to get shot with it...
And you say how you find your iPod big...
Anyway, just a few things I came across while surfing the interweb (as my mom likes to call it). There's nothing really for me to put on the site these days, or at least nothing I can relate to you, my viewers, without some heat over on my end...so... yeah... bye.
Blogged with Flock
Sunday, October 28, 2007
A Vision of Students Today
When I started watching this video, I thought it's gonna be one of those "ppor quality, almost but not quite funny" amateur video posts... turns out, I was sooooo wrong.
This video relates alot to pretty much any student in any educational institution. I'm glad someone sees what it's like for a student today - so many damn temptations! I mean, between Facebook, MSN and my iPod, there isn't much room for school work... jk.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
5 Days...
In case the title misled you to think that I have some information on a prequel to 7 Days to Vegas, let me just inform you that this entry is just a run-of-the-mill jot-down of my week; just another frivolous update for my website, in other words - nothing special (you can stop reading right now if you want to).
So what's there? Well I did stumble upon a revelation about my current institution of learning and that is, that it (the school) is a large black bat, spawning from the cave of the apocalypse with the sole intention to suck the very life out of every student and, dare I say, every living organizm that dare leaves its slimy trail of life upon the cursed grounds of that wretched castle. Or it could be described as a rather large and uncouth salesman that overburdens his pack mules... which would happen to be the students, like myself.
You would not believe the volume of work that we are issued. It's so bad that I have to quote one of my favorite movie lines of critique - "it's ri-God dammed-diculous". They gave us nearly 10 group projects to do, most which feel like busy work (I HATE BUSY WORK) that must be handed up by the end of this... semester. I don't even know what to call it because I heard roumours that we have three semesters or a "trimester" which makes up 1 academic year. It had better not be the "trimester" shit because in that word I see a reflection of a crazed Kevin in a straight jacket, beating down an orderly due to the lack of Summer Vacation. It is true that I don't do anything of count during the summer, but that's the point.
Now, back to these... assignments/projects/dog work/whatever they are... They are soon becoming the thorn in the forefront of my brain. Not a waking moment of may day is spent not thinking about them or trying to devise a way to have them completed before the crushing fist of the school's academic system comes thundering down to place a permanent crater in my academic record.
It's funny really, how we are all slaves to society; how no matter where you go or what you chose to do are in themselves, the shackles that bind you to your decision and purpose.
So that's it basically, I'm just a bit worn out from school, but at least it's the weekend right? Well "at least" is right - there's nothing special about life on the 2S days. The only thing that's different is that I don't go to school... but I still have to do work.
Anyway, i'm continuing this entry from last night just in case you didn't notice the change of tone. Well last night wasn't all bad, coming to think of it. My mom invited me to go with her to this reunion shin dig for some friend of hers and I have to say that it wasn't all that bad. Not because I flexed on any of the geriatrics, no no my friend, I have a reputation to think about - it was good because it beat the hell out of my plans for that night. I could have:
(a) Sat and devised a way to bang the DOA chicks
(b) Gone out and met some people (and by people, I mean a fine young thing that'll do something strange for some change) while I'm at it.
I chose option b. At the risk of having to witness the sheer monstrosity of these old people bumping and grinding their goodies (or should I say "old goods") to the calming sounds of Mr. James Brown, I had a fantasy of meeting a fine young maiden, posted at the bar waiting to be swept off her feet by an eligible (pseudo) bachelor like myself. Fortunately for my loins, I know how these things go - yes, it is highly possible that there will be someone's daughter who, like myself ,had nothing to do that night and was dragged along to the party. Yes she would also be in my age bracket, but either one of two things would have been wrong. She would have either: looked like the "keep as a friend" kind of girl, been engaged (yeah, it happens) or she would leave the party too early, even before you could get your swerve on.
With my luck, she was a combination of the last two - she had a boyfriend, and he came to pick her up about 20 mins after I got there. That would have sucked... if I didn't have a back-up plan. Instead, me and my sis went to the local cineplex (yes the same one) and watched Jodie Foster shoot the shit out of some random mothafuckers. The Brave One was a really good movie.
We got back to the party around half twelve at which time I saw this dude dancing with my mom. The gag reflex was strong, but I held it. He had that look in his eye, like "I'm gonna get some tonight, or next week, or something!" But I stepped in an broke that whole thing up before it went too far, though.
So that was Saturday... Sunday was no different. I'm fuckin tired, there's sand in my eyes and I have yet to begin writing that policy for school... i'm fuckin annoyed right now.... The weekend has passed and I am not an ounce more educated that when it started, I'm a mess. Anyway, I can see next week and smell its sulphuric skin from my perch of the night... Again I trudge forth into the dingy light of the next 5 days. This is starting to get pretty old.
So what's there? Well I did stumble upon a revelation about my current institution of learning and that is, that it (the school) is a large black bat, spawning from the cave of the apocalypse with the sole intention to suck the very life out of every student and, dare I say, every living organizm that dare leaves its slimy trail of life upon the cursed grounds of that wretched castle. Or it could be described as a rather large and uncouth salesman that overburdens his pack mules... which would happen to be the students, like myself.
You would not believe the volume of work that we are issued. It's so bad that I have to quote one of my favorite movie lines of critique - "it's ri-God dammed-diculous". They gave us nearly 10 group projects to do, most which feel like busy work (I HATE BUSY WORK) that must be handed up by the end of this... semester. I don't even know what to call it because I heard roumours that we have three semesters or a "trimester" which makes up 1 academic year. It had better not be the "trimester" shit because in that word I see a reflection of a crazed Kevin in a straight jacket, beating down an orderly due to the lack of Summer Vacation. It is true that I don't do anything of count during the summer, but that's the point.
Now, back to these... assignments/projects/dog work/whatever they are... They are soon becoming the thorn in the forefront of my brain. Not a waking moment of may day is spent not thinking about them or trying to devise a way to have them completed before the crushing fist of the school's academic system comes thundering down to place a permanent crater in my academic record.
It's funny really, how we are all slaves to society; how no matter where you go or what you chose to do are in themselves, the shackles that bind you to your decision and purpose.
So that's it basically, I'm just a bit worn out from school, but at least it's the weekend right? Well "at least" is right - there's nothing special about life on the 2S days. The only thing that's different is that I don't go to school... but I still have to do work.
Anyway, i'm continuing this entry from last night just in case you didn't notice the change of tone. Well last night wasn't all bad, coming to think of it. My mom invited me to go with her to this reunion shin dig for some friend of hers and I have to say that it wasn't all that bad. Not because I flexed on any of the geriatrics, no no my friend, I have a reputation to think about - it was good because it beat the hell out of my plans for that night. I could have:
(a) Sat and devised a way to bang the DOA chicks
(b) Gone out and met some people (and by people, I mean a fine young thing that'll do something strange for some change) while I'm at it.
I chose option b. At the risk of having to witness the sheer monstrosity of these old people bumping and grinding their goodies (or should I say "old goods") to the calming sounds of Mr. James Brown, I had a fantasy of meeting a fine young maiden, posted at the bar waiting to be swept off her feet by an eligible (pseudo) bachelor like myself. Fortunately for my loins, I know how these things go - yes, it is highly possible that there will be someone's daughter who, like myself ,had nothing to do that night and was dragged along to the party. Yes she would also be in my age bracket, but either one of two things would have been wrong. She would have either: looked like the "keep as a friend" kind of girl, been engaged (yeah, it happens) or she would leave the party too early, even before you could get your swerve on.
With my luck, she was a combination of the last two - she had a boyfriend, and he came to pick her up about 20 mins after I got there. That would have sucked... if I didn't have a back-up plan. Instead, me and my sis went to the local cineplex (yes the same one) and watched Jodie Foster shoot the shit out of some random mothafuckers. The Brave One was a really good movie.
We got back to the party around half twelve at which time I saw this dude dancing with my mom. The gag reflex was strong, but I held it. He had that look in his eye, like "I'm gonna get some tonight, or next week, or something!" But I stepped in an broke that whole thing up before it went too far, though.
So that was Saturday... Sunday was no different. I'm fuckin tired, there's sand in my eyes and I have yet to begin writing that policy for school... i'm fuckin annoyed right now.... The weekend has passed and I am not an ounce more educated that when it started, I'm a mess. Anyway, I can see next week and smell its sulphuric skin from my perch of the night... Again I trudge forth into the dingy light of the next 5 days. This is starting to get pretty old.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
FInally... A Post We Can ALl Agree On!!
That's right! Minimum Pleasure Season 2 will be released some time soon. I advise that you search for and download and install the H.264, Divx and Xvid codecs for worry-free viewing.This season will be a definite improvement on the last, but you're going to have to give me some time. It's a one-man crew i'm working with here. Couple the "large" crew with University work load and you'll find that each episode will be pushed out slower than feces from a constipated cow; but i'll try my best to have the episodes done in a timely manner.
Just in case you're a lame-o reading this and you haven't yet seen the first 3 (out of four) parts, here's a list of all of them:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sQlpADdul_s Part 1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AUCNH6PvxFo Part 2
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CwJ1OecH6xU Part 3
You can subscribe to my channel (user name kshep92) for more vids.
Now I know that this was supposed to be a feature film project back in 2006 but I decided to keep its charm by splitting it up into manageable mini-series denominations. That's for anybody wondering what ever happened to that project I was working on last yr.
I do, however have another feature film Idea (that cannot be converted to a mini-series) that I am beginning production for; It's called "YOUth". I'll give you more details on that as soon as things start progressing. To all my Minimum Pleasure movie cast members: your roles have been converted to this new project, so don't worry - all your sacrifices are not going in vain.
Look i'm kind of in a hurry here, my MSN windows in the task bar are going frickin' crazy!
If after viewing those Minimum Pleasure videos, you or anybody you know are interested in assisting with the project (camera work, acting, equipment loans (not rentals!) ) then send an email to kshep92@hotmail.com. I'll get back 2 you on it as soon as possible.
Minimum Pleasure: Season 2 - More Pain, Less Pleasure. Coming Soon... or you could have just read the poster :P
Hope you enjoy!
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
I'm Back!!!!
Oh my gosh, I can't believe it! I'm back, people of the internet, I AM BACK! Now I know how those stand up comedians like Dave Chappelle feel when they come back out on the stage for their new season. I feel good knowing that in this blog's down time people would come up to me and ask me "Ey boy, when yuh goin an write ah nex article, jed?" It's a great feeling knowing that all the crud on this website has been read and people like what they see. So for that i'd just like to say thank you to all my loyal readers, thank you sooooo much. You give me the inspiration to continue!
Anyway, plenty has been happening in the time that I've been away so that means that posts will be coming down the pipeline a mile a minute, but not today though. Nah, I'm as tired as a runaway slave; I've been doing homework till my fingers bled. The new posts, I'm afraid will start on Friday when I should be pretty well rested.
I have a great 'season" cooking up for you (provided that those pipers don't cut my phone line again (more on that later)), I guarantee that you'll enjoy it. In the mean time, thanks for all the support, I really appreciate it.
Tune in on Friday at 8, alright?
Peace!
Anyway, plenty has been happening in the time that I've been away so that means that posts will be coming down the pipeline a mile a minute, but not today though. Nah, I'm as tired as a runaway slave; I've been doing homework till my fingers bled. The new posts, I'm afraid will start on Friday when I should be pretty well rested.
I have a great 'season" cooking up for you (provided that those pipers don't cut my phone line again (more on that later)), I guarantee that you'll enjoy it. In the mean time, thanks for all the support, I really appreciate it.
Tune in on Friday at 8, alright?
Peace!
Sunday, July 08, 2007
I beat the System!!1
Finally Hi5!! Cower at my rapid clickery! Below is a picture that most will covet until the skies turn red -- a clean Hi5 inbox. you heard me, no messages, 0, zilch!! Hoo-haa. Thanks to Half-Life 2, my trigger finger is now something to talk about... actually my fingers are good for more than just clicking... *wink, wink, nudge, nudge say no more. Just ask the police officer who gave me that ticket this morning for "Obscenities against law officials" psht! Yeah right, like that's a law!
The words in the red circle are words that only a skillful and dedicated few (like myself) have had the pleasure of seeing. The words in the blue circle are nothing more than Hi5's way of saying "No please stay, please don't leave, you have much work to do my pet!" Yeah I would have stayed and poked around but the site is shot full of those fucking Google ads. Dammit!!! If i have to sit there and watch those stink ads all the time then I think that I should be entitled to a free blowjob for every one I manage to *accidentally glimpse at (and I have big eyes with 20/20 vision ;))
The words in the red circle are words that only a skillful and dedicated few (like myself) have had the pleasure of seeing. The words in the blue circle are nothing more than Hi5's way of saying "No please stay, please don't leave, you have much work to do my pet!" Yeah I would have stayed and poked around but the site is shot full of those fucking Google ads. Dammit!!! If i have to sit there and watch those stink ads all the time then I think that I should be entitled to a free blowjob for every one I manage to *accidentally glimpse at (and I have big eyes with 20/20 vision ;))
Take 2 and Party!!!
Well it's the summer time again and we all know what that means: countless hours spent sweating in your underpants in front of a hot LCD monitor, waiting for the new Pam Anderson to hit the Pron servers; or maybe it could mean spending time thinking about the numerous ways that you could change your outward appearance so that the kids at school will like you come September; OR you could be like me and spend your time grinding your meat loaf on an anonymous female's behind, while the angelic coarseness of Buju Banton's voice blares from the Devil's jukebox. This ritual of public and shameless dry-humping under the cover of loud obscene music is known in this culture as partying, a custom that most us Linux users know nothing about... most of us.
Anyway, tonight was the festive celebration of my God-Sister's sweet 16. Ah yes, 16, the year that was I supposed to end it all (virginity)... aah the memories... As I was saying, my God-Sister turned 16 last week and she decided to host a little shindig to kick the year of false adulthood off right. Me being the sweet and loving relative that I am, pounced at the opportunity to attend. I figured it would be a short glimpse into the mirror of time and space where I could see my past looking back at me, and boy does my past look unhappy to see me! I'd be unhappy too, I left it there, to wallow in its own stench.
Now I'm 18, that's two years older than my GS and three years older than most of her friends (and four years in one special case). The average rapist would be in his glee - this is the perfect excuse to grind his man-dangle all over innocent underage ass, but I am not the average rapist... or any rapist for that matter- I felt like an 80's kid in a 90's kid party, and indeed I was. To say the music didn't appeal to me would be a lie, but not being engrossed in the idiocracy did leave my mind open to the reception and realization of what a jackass I am! More on that later.
So I stood there gazing at the field of green mangoes. The fellas, oh the fellas, how they reminded me so much of how I was. Upon looking at my reflection in the puddle of wasted sperm (the guys at the party) I wished that I could find my 15 year-old self and kick the shit out of him for being such a nerd. I mean sure the females weren't the best that St. Swanky had to offer, but there was ass and there was music and you just stood there... against a wall... hoping that the flaking paint would scratch your sodomized little ass. I mean come on! You probably had to have your caca-hole blistered (and liked it) in order to not want to bleed your lizard over all that gyrating ass! Shame on you fellas and shame on you 15 year-old Kevin, you little, shy pussy!!!
I bet by now you're asking "OK Kevin, now that you're 18, why didn't you show the youngsters a thing or two about how a 'big man' handles things". No my friend, not I, I have a reputation to think of. Honestly speaking, I could have broken those girls in two if I got into it too much, that's one point. Second point is that i'm not vertically dry-humping anybody wit the word "Sister" anywhere in her title and thirdly, i'm not going to have my reputation in St. Swanky ruined because I couldn't tame the weasel. I don't want to be known as "the guy who got bodily thrown out of his own relative's party because he just had to rub his magic lamp all over his God-sister's ass". No sir, not I. The girl's father was right there, lurking behind the plants (well he wasn't exactly lurking... and if he was, he's not a very good lurker... I think you'd notice a 6' 4", 220LB man hiding behind a poinsettia flower.) Either way, I wasn't risking having him lunging forth at my meager structure to grind my bones to make his fry bake. So no, no dancing for Kevin.
There was this lively bunch that showed up a little later though. Mmmm... how they remind me of me, yet another memory I'll be wishing that I could beat the living shit out of once I'm old enough. Thanks to one of the guys, I got to experience my mid-teen dream: to see Kartel on Krack Kokaine!! I mean seriously, it reached a point where I was about to get the metal spoon and shove it between his teeth. *That's what you do when somebody's having a seizure* He was dark-skinned, greasy and drinking directly from a 2-liter bottle of red Canning's. You can't get any blacker than that. A good fellow though, added some life and laughs to the festivities. That, in case you were wondering, is my usual party behaviour (sans the complection and the Canning's) I'm usually the center of attention, laughing stock and spirit of the party - me and my boy JB.
There was one thing though, the DJ had a list of a whopping 10 songs!!! WOW!! Excellent!!! I heard the same song about 40 times within the space of an hour. Lady Saw soon became Lady Sore-Throat; I could tell she was done for. That was about the only annoyance.
All in all I'd say the little outing was good. A real eye opener and a flowery trip down memory lane. I sure did wish my girlfriend was there to enjoy it with me... but she had to be a salty catfish and say no...I'll remember that when Glamour rolls around ;)
Anyway, tonight was the festive celebration of my God-Sister's sweet 16. Ah yes, 16, the year that was I supposed to end it all (virginity)... aah the memories... As I was saying, my God-Sister turned 16 last week and she decided to host a little shindig to kick the year of false adulthood off right. Me being the sweet and loving relative that I am, pounced at the opportunity to attend. I figured it would be a short glimpse into the mirror of time and space where I could see my past looking back at me, and boy does my past look unhappy to see me! I'd be unhappy too, I left it there, to wallow in its own stench.
Now I'm 18, that's two years older than my GS and three years older than most of her friends (and four years in one special case). The average rapist would be in his glee - this is the perfect excuse to grind his man-dangle all over innocent underage ass, but I am not the average rapist... or any rapist for that matter- I felt like an 80's kid in a 90's kid party, and indeed I was. To say the music didn't appeal to me would be a lie, but not being engrossed in the idiocracy did leave my mind open to the reception and realization of what a jackass I am! More on that later.
So I stood there gazing at the field of green mangoes. The fellas, oh the fellas, how they reminded me so much of how I was. Upon looking at my reflection in the puddle of wasted sperm (the guys at the party) I wished that I could find my 15 year-old self and kick the shit out of him for being such a nerd. I mean sure the females weren't the best that St. Swanky had to offer, but there was ass and there was music and you just stood there... against a wall... hoping that the flaking paint would scratch your sodomized little ass. I mean come on! You probably had to have your caca-hole blistered (and liked it) in order to not want to bleed your lizard over all that gyrating ass! Shame on you fellas and shame on you 15 year-old Kevin, you little, shy pussy!!!
I bet by now you're asking "OK Kevin, now that you're 18, why didn't you show the youngsters a thing or two about how a 'big man' handles things". No my friend, not I, I have a reputation to think of. Honestly speaking, I could have broken those girls in two if I got into it too much, that's one point. Second point is that i'm not vertically dry-humping anybody wit the word "Sister" anywhere in her title and thirdly, i'm not going to have my reputation in St. Swanky ruined because I couldn't tame the weasel. I don't want to be known as "the guy who got bodily thrown out of his own relative's party because he just had to rub his magic lamp all over his God-sister's ass". No sir, not I. The girl's father was right there, lurking behind the plants (well he wasn't exactly lurking... and if he was, he's not a very good lurker... I think you'd notice a 6' 4", 220LB man hiding behind a poinsettia flower.) Either way, I wasn't risking having him lunging forth at my meager structure to grind my bones to make his fry bake. So no, no dancing for Kevin.
There was this lively bunch that showed up a little later though. Mmmm... how they remind me of me, yet another memory I'll be wishing that I could beat the living shit out of once I'm old enough. Thanks to one of the guys, I got to experience my mid-teen dream: to see Kartel on Krack Kokaine!! I mean seriously, it reached a point where I was about to get the metal spoon and shove it between his teeth. *That's what you do when somebody's having a seizure* He was dark-skinned, greasy and drinking directly from a 2-liter bottle of red Canning's. You can't get any blacker than that. A good fellow though, added some life and laughs to the festivities. That, in case you were wondering, is my usual party behaviour (sans the complection and the Canning's) I'm usually the center of attention, laughing stock and spirit of the party - me and my boy JB.
There was one thing though, the DJ had a list of a whopping 10 songs!!! WOW!! Excellent!!! I heard the same song about 40 times within the space of an hour. Lady Saw soon became Lady Sore-Throat; I could tell she was done for. That was about the only annoyance.
All in all I'd say the little outing was good. A real eye opener and a flowery trip down memory lane. I sure did wish my girlfriend was there to enjoy it with me... but she had to be a salty catfish and say no...I'll remember that when Glamour rolls around ;)
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Google Got Me
Welcome to www.diegodeviant.tk (http://mrshizzle.blogspot.com), the blog that puts its feet up on your mom's new furniture.
Today I'd like to talk about the effects of Google on a young mind:
Now Google has reached the point in its existence where it spreads like a cancer that first sinks its contaminating claws into the Internet's back fat and is now weaveling its way into your home via your own PC. It's not the fact that they can buy major corporations like YouTube and get a weekend discount, but it's the fact that the takeover is happening so swiftly, so underhandedly, that millions of other sheep out there like me fall victim to it's Fisher Price countenance and accept its advances and install virtually every bit of software made by Google on their machines. Don't believe me? This is a picture of my browser just one week after regaining my Internet:
if you'd take a look at the encircled areas, you'd see that I currently have, or I am a subscriber of:
Google Reader
Google Home Page
Google Bookmark
Google Search
And if your observational skills were good enough, you'd see that I currently have FireFox installed. How does this have to do with anything? Well I installed FireFox after using Google Search to find "good alternative to IE7". If your eagle-eye is as sharp as you claim it is then you'd also see that I have two instances of the Google Search Bar installed in my FireFox browser and in the title bar of the said browser, you would see that I'm currently heading to Google Labs to find more themed software to install.
I really can't help myself. It has reached the point that I think the Installation Prompts for installing new Google software have evolved from questions to subliminally hypnotizing commands:
I'm telling you, this thing is getting pretty out of pocket.
My machine is practically Googdows XP with all the G-apps installed:
I have a Gmail account
I use Google Talk, though nobody's ever there
I have:
Google Desktop
Google Toolbar for Internet Explorer
Picasa
Google Side Bar (I've even tried writing widgets for the damn thing)
Google Video Player
What's next? A G-based friendship service? Wait there is one, I forgot the name though. (Google search it)
My brother and I were discussing today the impracticalities of the possession of an iPhone in Trinidad and the roumoured Google OS soon to hit the market... Allegedly. We see this as the icing on Google's diabolical cake: First they take over our media, then our communications and then they ooze their way onward to control that which controls the world at present (the computers), in essence, they're trying to take over the world!
Is all this sounding familiar to a certain other conspiracy theory? Yeah, the aliens that landed in Roswell, New Mexico weren't caught by the FBI and locked away, no my friend, they were of African descent so they specialised in evading police and bill collectors alike. I think they are the ones that run Google today! Ok, that is a PRETTY stupid theory, we all know aliens aren't real and the only aliens that exist are the black people in a Barry Manilow concert (that's just weird).
The G-man however is as real as real can get. You heard me, right out of Half-Life and into the corporate setting, the G-man is and always will be the head of the multi-billion dollar corporation. His plans extend far greater than keeping a nerd in a wet suit trapped in City 17 - he wants to make us all nerds in wet suits trapped behind our desks!
Look into the face of your future owner!
Strangely enough, I see a resemblance - a twinkle in the beast's eye that reflects perfectly in my own. The G-man an I are exactly alike, it's just that he's successful and I'm not. I always had dreams of world domination... how coincidental.
So wake up, unsuspecting computer user, wake up and smell the ashes of a world that once was; taste the oppression. You have much work to do, many of Google's applications are waiting to be installed, so wake up, my fair user, wake up and begin your destruction!
I'd like to thank my sponsor Weed Inc. and TMIT (Too Much Idle Time) Ltd. for the thoughts that were expressed in this entry. I would also like to make plug for my brother's blog over at Virtual Insanity (There isn't much there at the moment but bookmark it now - I'm telling you there's gonna be some wild entries very soon)
That's it for this edition of the DiegoDeviant. Stay cool and as always, Peace Love and Parrots (that's the weed again :p)
Today I'd like to talk about the effects of Google on a young mind:
Now Google has reached the point in its existence where it spreads like a cancer that first sinks its contaminating claws into the Internet's back fat and is now weaveling its way into your home via your own PC. It's not the fact that they can buy major corporations like YouTube and get a weekend discount, but it's the fact that the takeover is happening so swiftly, so underhandedly, that millions of other sheep out there like me fall victim to it's Fisher Price countenance and accept its advances and install virtually every bit of software made by Google on their machines. Don't believe me? This is a picture of my browser just one week after regaining my Internet:
if you'd take a look at the encircled areas, you'd see that I currently have, or I am a subscriber of:
Google Reader
Google Home Page
Google Bookmark
Google Search
And if your observational skills were good enough, you'd see that I currently have FireFox installed. How does this have to do with anything? Well I installed FireFox after using Google Search to find "good alternative to IE7". If your eagle-eye is as sharp as you claim it is then you'd also see that I have two instances of the Google Search Bar installed in my FireFox browser and in the title bar of the said browser, you would see that I'm currently heading to Google Labs to find more themed software to install.
I really can't help myself. It has reached the point that I think the Installation Prompts for installing new Google software have evolved from questions to subliminally hypnotizing commands:
I'm telling you, this thing is getting pretty out of pocket.
My machine is practically Googdows XP with all the G-apps installed:
I have a Gmail account
I use Google Talk, though nobody's ever there
I have:
Google Desktop
Google Toolbar for Internet Explorer
Picasa
Google Side Bar (I've even tried writing widgets for the damn thing)
Google Video Player
What's next? A G-based friendship service? Wait there is one, I forgot the name though. (Google search it)
My brother and I were discussing today the impracticalities of the possession of an iPhone in Trinidad and the roumoured Google OS soon to hit the market... Allegedly. We see this as the icing on Google's diabolical cake: First they take over our media, then our communications and then they ooze their way onward to control that which controls the world at present (the computers), in essence, they're trying to take over the world!
Is all this sounding familiar to a certain other conspiracy theory? Yeah, the aliens that landed in Roswell, New Mexico weren't caught by the FBI and locked away, no my friend, they were of African descent so they specialised in evading police and bill collectors alike. I think they are the ones that run Google today! Ok, that is a PRETTY stupid theory, we all know aliens aren't real and the only aliens that exist are the black people in a Barry Manilow concert (that's just weird).
The G-man however is as real as real can get. You heard me, right out of Half-Life and into the corporate setting, the G-man is and always will be the head of the multi-billion dollar corporation. His plans extend far greater than keeping a nerd in a wet suit trapped in City 17 - he wants to make us all nerds in wet suits trapped behind our desks!
Look into the face of your future owner!
Strangely enough, I see a resemblance - a twinkle in the beast's eye that reflects perfectly in my own. The G-man an I are exactly alike, it's just that he's successful and I'm not. I always had dreams of world domination... how coincidental.
So wake up, unsuspecting computer user, wake up and smell the ashes of a world that once was; taste the oppression. You have much work to do, many of Google's applications are waiting to be installed, so wake up, my fair user, wake up and begin your destruction!
I'd like to thank my sponsor Weed Inc. and TMIT (Too Much Idle Time) Ltd. for the thoughts that were expressed in this entry. I would also like to make plug for my brother's blog over at Virtual Insanity (There isn't much there at the moment but bookmark it now - I'm telling you there's gonna be some wild entries very soon)
That's it for this edition of the DiegoDeviant. Stay cool and as always, Peace Love and Parrots (that's the weed again :p)
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Buff Eye for the Skinny Guy
Hey all,
It's no secret, I'm a skinny dude. I mean sure I got the man titties and the abs and whatnot but all in all, I'd say I'm pretty thin compared to some of my other friends. Don't get me wrong though, i'm not the kind of thin where you'd see me on the street and rush to shove the nearest lipid food byproduct in my mouth, i'm just... average.
My father, grandfater and two uncles all at some point in time were bodybuilders and me being a young boy being surrounded by all this "biffitude" makes it a point understood that I would want to be sailing on the same muscle bound vessel of over compensation as they were. Skip ahead seven years later and your boy is a tall Greek pillar of hollow fragility that somehow remains irresistible to the ladies (*pop the collar) but my insatiable thirst for perfection left me wanting more. For no matter how many women I took outside to the parking lot during a social gathering or how many photography deals I was offered, the images of my relatives' billowing muscular frame stayed stagnant in my mind (in the most non-gay/incestuous way possible).
Being as tall as I want to be (where my height > the average height of a bitch) so that I wouldn't have to worry about growth stunting, I made the decision to try out this whole gym thing. If I have the genes I might as well wear them (lol). So it's off to the gym I went.
By the age of 16 I saw a drastic improvement in my physique and I began to revel and bask in the new compliments that followed. I grew muscle titties and my biceps were something to shout about... well ok not shout, more like whisper but it was "buzz" none the less. Then CXC came along and just blew everything back to phase one.
At 17 I bounced back from the CXC anorexia state and my features were more pronounced than ever. There was a rather noticeable change in my appearance, though my male friends wouldn't say anything at the risk of sounding gay, but it was the female attention that was important to me, and that I got indeed. Exactly as I planned - more muscle, more women.
So i'm a pretty satisfied guy - cuts in the arms, defined chest, abs, a toned back - so I was pretty much ready to just sit back and maintain. Then SHE came along: the love of my life; the only girl who holds my heart. A few months into the relationship, the topic of physique came up. This would have been where I expected to be showered with complements till the walls of my invisible shower cubicle burst, but it was quite the opposite my friend - it was more like a walk down a ten mile road paved with shame and carved through the mountain of disappointment. To summarize, she didn't see the difference between my upper body and the burnt match stick she threw away this morning after she lit the stove. Needless to say I was heartbroken.
The drive home that night was silent. The mood didn't change much when I got home either, the mirror was my greatest enemy. For the next few days I moped around my house in what ever garments I could find that would conceal my now deemed "skeletal" frame. My depression lasted for several days until I was ready to welcome the endorphins, shed the robe of sadness and hurt and "lift the iron" once more.
"Eye of the Tiger" began to play in my head as I boldly strutted to the gym. I would have kicked open the door and announced my return but 1. Nobody knew me and 2. the rather buff security guard whose neck muscles were nearly as tall as his head, had a twitchy eye and I didn't want to make any sudden moves that would give him reason to gore me with those extremely large, protruding back muscles. I opened the door quietly, set down my things and grasped the cold, rough arm of the barbell. The strain was intense but I welcomed it.
One year has passed and I have made it abundantly clear that I am no longer a small fry. The backfat is dveloped, the titties need a bra and the abs speak for themselves... literally, they've gone way past development and into evolution, they've reached the state where they developed brains and vocal cords each - they talk through the line in the middle of my stomach. OK maybe I exaggerated a little bit - I'm no God of War Kratos but I am... well... still shrimpy but more in a "biggest shrimp out of the catch" kind of way. I like my current size and I assume that it is safe to say that I am admired by all new shrimps that have recently joined the gym aka my playground!
To put the icing on the cake, I went back to the gym today. The scene looked as perfect as anyone could want. There were three out of shape, middle aged women on the treadmills, two fat chicks around my age (clearly poked fun at to the point where they decided to join the gym), a fat kid, my friend Gyasi and a skinny white dude (a "King Shrimp" admirer). So, after exerting my "manly force" on the circuit machines, I went over to the free weights to do some bicep curls. All was good until that instructor had to come in and mess up my flow and make me look like an idiot.
I'm doing the curls in a fashion that I deem proper and functional but somebody had to have a keen eye for exercise errors and a steady love for their job. Now I don't mind and instructor coming over to correct me because sometimes, I really can do crap and it's nice to know that somebody's there to guide me along the right path. hell, that's what you're getting paid for but please, don't come in the middle of a rep on my last set to try to fix the mistake! Here's how it played out:
I'm sweating and straining to make the 10 count on my last set of curls. The weights were heavier than what I usually use but I was getting along just fine. This do-gooder had to come and stretch my arms further down, and tell me to lift the weights to my chin instead of to my neck. I tried... and the result was atrocious. All the veins in my body popped up in a feeble attempt to try to pump blood to my exhausted muscles, the sweat pipes blew their valves and sweat poured down my face, as if a reservoir wall burst in my head, at some point in time my abs started to hurt, as if they were trying to climb my torso to assist my arms; and then it happened. I let out the most girly, not manly, sound effect from an ass-rape movie sigh that I've ever heard. Apparently it was so bad that the old woman on the stair master behind me stopped flapping her bingo wings long enough to give me that "shocked" stare. Then the jack-benny of an instructor had the gall to tell me "Uh, maybe the weights are too heavy for you" and then walked off into the distance.
What I did after that was what anybody would do to mask embarrassment. I just continued with my workout as usual, but I made it snappy. In two shakes of a lamb's tail I was done with abs and legs and left the gym.
I'm sure by now you're expecting me to crack open a wise proverbial book and blurt out some profound life lesson, but there is none, there's only what I learned. I joined the gym mainly to further impress the females. At heart I love being active and fit, but this whole "Getting big" thing wasn't ever really my plan. I mainly did it because that's was what girls were into and what I felt would cut down the time I spent actually tracking a girl thus leaving more time for the relationship (if any, after the first night at Movie Towne ;) ) So it wasn't entirely for me. What else I learnt was that you shouldn't go changing what you like about yourself (my build in this case) just because it's not up to somebody else's standard. Sure it sounds cliched, but I think I provided enough background info warrant the saying's application in this case. In doing so you only look like a fool in the end, as you can see I did.
As for me, i'm already on the "Stupid" boat so I'll just keep on sailing. My goal for the end of adolescence is to look like, you guessed it, Kratos from God of War. Wikkidd!!
One entry at a time i'll get all my issues off my chest. This was one of those demons that ate at me for a while now and i'm glad it's here, on the interweb for your viewing pleasure.
Hope you learned something.
It's no secret, I'm a skinny dude. I mean sure I got the man titties and the abs and whatnot but all in all, I'd say I'm pretty thin compared to some of my other friends. Don't get me wrong though, i'm not the kind of thin where you'd see me on the street and rush to shove the nearest lipid food byproduct in my mouth, i'm just... average.
My father, grandfater and two uncles all at some point in time were bodybuilders and me being a young boy being surrounded by all this "biffitude" makes it a point understood that I would want to be sailing on the same muscle bound vessel of over compensation as they were. Skip ahead seven years later and your boy is a tall Greek pillar of hollow fragility that somehow remains irresistible to the ladies (*pop the collar) but my insatiable thirst for perfection left me wanting more. For no matter how many women I took outside to the parking lot during a social gathering or how many photography deals I was offered, the images of my relatives' billowing muscular frame stayed stagnant in my mind (in the most non-gay/incestuous way possible).
Being as tall as I want to be (where my height > the average height of a bitch) so that I wouldn't have to worry about growth stunting, I made the decision to try out this whole gym thing. If I have the genes I might as well wear them (lol). So it's off to the gym I went.
By the age of 16 I saw a drastic improvement in my physique and I began to revel and bask in the new compliments that followed. I grew muscle titties and my biceps were something to shout about... well ok not shout, more like whisper but it was "buzz" none the less. Then CXC came along and just blew everything back to phase one.
At 17 I bounced back from the CXC anorexia state and my features were more pronounced than ever. There was a rather noticeable change in my appearance, though my male friends wouldn't say anything at the risk of sounding gay, but it was the female attention that was important to me, and that I got indeed. Exactly as I planned - more muscle, more women.
So i'm a pretty satisfied guy - cuts in the arms, defined chest, abs, a toned back - so I was pretty much ready to just sit back and maintain. Then SHE came along: the love of my life; the only girl who holds my heart. A few months into the relationship, the topic of physique came up. This would have been where I expected to be showered with complements till the walls of my invisible shower cubicle burst, but it was quite the opposite my friend - it was more like a walk down a ten mile road paved with shame and carved through the mountain of disappointment. To summarize, she didn't see the difference between my upper body and the burnt match stick she threw away this morning after she lit the stove. Needless to say I was heartbroken.
The drive home that night was silent. The mood didn't change much when I got home either, the mirror was my greatest enemy. For the next few days I moped around my house in what ever garments I could find that would conceal my now deemed "skeletal" frame. My depression lasted for several days until I was ready to welcome the endorphins, shed the robe of sadness and hurt and "lift the iron" once more.
"Eye of the Tiger" began to play in my head as I boldly strutted to the gym. I would have kicked open the door and announced my return but 1. Nobody knew me and 2. the rather buff security guard whose neck muscles were nearly as tall as his head, had a twitchy eye and I didn't want to make any sudden moves that would give him reason to gore me with those extremely large, protruding back muscles. I opened the door quietly, set down my things and grasped the cold, rough arm of the barbell. The strain was intense but I welcomed it.
One year has passed and I have made it abundantly clear that I am no longer a small fry. The backfat is dveloped, the titties need a bra and the abs speak for themselves... literally, they've gone way past development and into evolution, they've reached the state where they developed brains and vocal cords each - they talk through the line in the middle of my stomach. OK maybe I exaggerated a little bit - I'm no God of War Kratos but I am... well... still shrimpy but more in a "biggest shrimp out of the catch" kind of way. I like my current size and I assume that it is safe to say that I am admired by all new shrimps that have recently joined the gym aka my playground!
To put the icing on the cake, I went back to the gym today. The scene looked as perfect as anyone could want. There were three out of shape, middle aged women on the treadmills, two fat chicks around my age (clearly poked fun at to the point where they decided to join the gym), a fat kid, my friend Gyasi and a skinny white dude (a "King Shrimp" admirer). So, after exerting my "manly force" on the circuit machines, I went over to the free weights to do some bicep curls. All was good until that instructor had to come in and mess up my flow and make me look like an idiot.
I'm doing the curls in a fashion that I deem proper and functional but somebody had to have a keen eye for exercise errors and a steady love for their job. Now I don't mind and instructor coming over to correct me because sometimes, I really can do crap and it's nice to know that somebody's there to guide me along the right path. hell, that's what you're getting paid for but please, don't come in the middle of a rep on my last set to try to fix the mistake! Here's how it played out:
I'm sweating and straining to make the 10 count on my last set of curls. The weights were heavier than what I usually use but I was getting along just fine. This do-gooder had to come and stretch my arms further down, and tell me to lift the weights to my chin instead of to my neck. I tried... and the result was atrocious. All the veins in my body popped up in a feeble attempt to try to pump blood to my exhausted muscles, the sweat pipes blew their valves and sweat poured down my face, as if a reservoir wall burst in my head, at some point in time my abs started to hurt, as if they were trying to climb my torso to assist my arms; and then it happened. I let out the most girly, not manly, sound effect from an ass-rape movie sigh that I've ever heard. Apparently it was so bad that the old woman on the stair master behind me stopped flapping her bingo wings long enough to give me that "shocked" stare. Then the jack-benny of an instructor had the gall to tell me "Uh, maybe the weights are too heavy for you" and then walked off into the distance.
What I did after that was what anybody would do to mask embarrassment. I just continued with my workout as usual, but I made it snappy. In two shakes of a lamb's tail I was done with abs and legs and left the gym.
I'm sure by now you're expecting me to crack open a wise proverbial book and blurt out some profound life lesson, but there is none, there's only what I learned. I joined the gym mainly to further impress the females. At heart I love being active and fit, but this whole "Getting big" thing wasn't ever really my plan. I mainly did it because that's was what girls were into and what I felt would cut down the time I spent actually tracking a girl thus leaving more time for the relationship (if any, after the first night at Movie Towne ;) ) So it wasn't entirely for me. What else I learnt was that you shouldn't go changing what you like about yourself (my build in this case) just because it's not up to somebody else's standard. Sure it sounds cliched, but I think I provided enough background info warrant the saying's application in this case. In doing so you only look like a fool in the end, as you can see I did.
As for me, i'm already on the "Stupid" boat so I'll just keep on sailing. My goal for the end of adolescence is to look like, you guessed it, Kratos from God of War. Wikkidd!!
One entry at a time i'll get all my issues off my chest. This was one of those demons that ate at me for a while now and i'm glad it's here, on the interweb for your viewing pleasure.
Hope you learned something.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
I Didn't Wear my Watch Today...
This entry is more of a story... A story of my liberation from the only world that I've known, to the world that I have refused to know. The world that i've denied being a part of for the past 15 years. In order for me to reach the end, for this story to come to make sense, I have to take you back to the beginning, to the night the pain started... to the night the end of the pain began...
The time is well past the bewitching hour, I'm in the prime of the devil's work hours, up, sweaty, nervous, being blinded by the gamma-riddled beams of light of intimidation straming out of my text book. Occasional glances up at the computer screen calling me from it's den on the other end of the length of my dining room table revealed the obvious, that I would be much happier doing what I do best. I couldn't then, for I was a slave, a slave to the very thing that made me into the respectful individual that I am today. Sleep clawed away at the pillars of awareness that kept my eyes open until they, the pillars, eventually collapsed and I gave in to the ghastly temptation.
Rest was intended to go on for an hour, but instead, it went on for a vengeful eternity; an eternity that went past my scheduled awakening time yet contradicted it's own nature solely to conveniently come to an end just as soon as the sands of time I stole from the riverside of opportunity slipped through my fingers and into the pit of regret. I awoke, dazed, panicked. I stumbled my way to the dining room table like a new born foal, to resume battle with the monster that cracked my shield of my faith and with it, took my sword of hope as it continued along its path along the avenue of my frustration.
Too late to learn, I faced my fate, its light so dim that one can hardly see the future. Examination time was close at hand and all that was left to do was stare down into the eyes of the beast that will destroy me and let him work his worst.
...
The exam was over, my script resembled my life - important questions being asked with no relevant or real answer to suffice. I left before most of my friends finished, the flames of their pity would burn like thermite, not even the titanium defenses of my mental security could withstand.
On leaving the school's compound, I began a journey that would only lead to the ends of my slavery's outstreched grasp. The ground was hot, the sun scorched me from above, as I walked in a blizzard of the industrial dusts and sands. My destination was a local food place whose value was relentlessly unappreciated during the usual lime with friends, or the unexpected visit during a case of the munchies. Today however, things were different. A strange light of releif resonated from its exterior.
...
With my nourishment in hand, I made my way to fetch a taxi to my next destination.
...
I stopped off at my childhood neighborhood - the place looked so clean. As I walked up the street to my father's house, I glanced at my wrist to get the time and low and behold my watch wasn't there. I felt a weight being lifted off my psychi as I came to terms witht the fact that I was no longer a slave to commitment - my failed exam, the consequences of my failure no longer mattered, I felt free, untouchable... alive. No longer was I snapped to the grid of conformity, I was finally liberated from the one-track lifestyle that I have lived for so many years. School was becoming a burden, far too great for even me to bear and a long well-deserved rest was what I needed for so long. The watch that I wore on my left wrist was the tie that bound me to the system that evicerated my mental stablity - slowly but surely. That watch was not present, no, not this day; for all I saw when I glanced down at my wrist was the tan line that preceeded my carpal tunnel syndrome riddled wrist.
With this feeling of freedom came visibility, my line of sight leapt great bounds beyond my high walls of commitment and frustration and I was able to see the world in all its glory. I had noticed it before, but this time, my opinions, my awe and my mind's arms, forever yearning to touch it's beauty, all danced in unison.
I made my way up the street to my father's house - nobody was home. I opened the gate, it's rusty creaking disturbed the tranquility of my childhood home. I sat in the gallery to begin to eat my lunch, just then the beauty of my surroundings hit me again, like a heavy piece of masonry falling from the pinnacle of a high-rise building - the neighbourhood was sickeningly pretty, tranquil, birds chirping, plants dancing in the sunshine as the wind kised their leaves, the sound of children hard at work at the school just a stone's throw away, the collective sound of each household's ambience was a song, soothing, perfect yet never heard. I sat in my father's gallery chair with my foot resting on the banister. I plugged my headphones into my ear, my own personal stopcork to stop the world's insanity from flooding my mind. I scrolled to my playlist on my iPod that contained 12 short clips of some of Sam Lake's work. I listened to it and let it cleanse my mind while letting my spirit run free. In doing so, I was reborn a free man.
I take no pride in my failure, my crime, what I had done, and I wish I hadn't. It lies there, a hungry pit behind me that will keep gnashing and snapping its teeth in the depths of my mind. It will stay there as I dangle the one thing it craves - my peace of mind - in front of it, until I am rested enough to resume battle; pick up my shield and armor, sword and helmet, and face it down once more.
The time is well past the bewitching hour, I'm in the prime of the devil's work hours, up, sweaty, nervous, being blinded by the gamma-riddled beams of light of intimidation straming out of my text book. Occasional glances up at the computer screen calling me from it's den on the other end of the length of my dining room table revealed the obvious, that I would be much happier doing what I do best. I couldn't then, for I was a slave, a slave to the very thing that made me into the respectful individual that I am today. Sleep clawed away at the pillars of awareness that kept my eyes open until they, the pillars, eventually collapsed and I gave in to the ghastly temptation.
Rest was intended to go on for an hour, but instead, it went on for a vengeful eternity; an eternity that went past my scheduled awakening time yet contradicted it's own nature solely to conveniently come to an end just as soon as the sands of time I stole from the riverside of opportunity slipped through my fingers and into the pit of regret. I awoke, dazed, panicked. I stumbled my way to the dining room table like a new born foal, to resume battle with the monster that cracked my shield of my faith and with it, took my sword of hope as it continued along its path along the avenue of my frustration.
Too late to learn, I faced my fate, its light so dim that one can hardly see the future. Examination time was close at hand and all that was left to do was stare down into the eyes of the beast that will destroy me and let him work his worst.
...
The exam was over, my script resembled my life - important questions being asked with no relevant or real answer to suffice. I left before most of my friends finished, the flames of their pity would burn like thermite, not even the titanium defenses of my mental security could withstand.
On leaving the school's compound, I began a journey that would only lead to the ends of my slavery's outstreched grasp. The ground was hot, the sun scorched me from above, as I walked in a blizzard of the industrial dusts and sands. My destination was a local food place whose value was relentlessly unappreciated during the usual lime with friends, or the unexpected visit during a case of the munchies. Today however, things were different. A strange light of releif resonated from its exterior.
...
With my nourishment in hand, I made my way to fetch a taxi to my next destination.
...
I stopped off at my childhood neighborhood - the place looked so clean. As I walked up the street to my father's house, I glanced at my wrist to get the time and low and behold my watch wasn't there. I felt a weight being lifted off my psychi as I came to terms witht the fact that I was no longer a slave to commitment - my failed exam, the consequences of my failure no longer mattered, I felt free, untouchable... alive. No longer was I snapped to the grid of conformity, I was finally liberated from the one-track lifestyle that I have lived for so many years. School was becoming a burden, far too great for even me to bear and a long well-deserved rest was what I needed for so long. The watch that I wore on my left wrist was the tie that bound me to the system that evicerated my mental stablity - slowly but surely. That watch was not present, no, not this day; for all I saw when I glanced down at my wrist was the tan line that preceeded my carpal tunnel syndrome riddled wrist.
With this feeling of freedom came visibility, my line of sight leapt great bounds beyond my high walls of commitment and frustration and I was able to see the world in all its glory. I had noticed it before, but this time, my opinions, my awe and my mind's arms, forever yearning to touch it's beauty, all danced in unison.
I made my way up the street to my father's house - nobody was home. I opened the gate, it's rusty creaking disturbed the tranquility of my childhood home. I sat in the gallery to begin to eat my lunch, just then the beauty of my surroundings hit me again, like a heavy piece of masonry falling from the pinnacle of a high-rise building - the neighbourhood was sickeningly pretty, tranquil, birds chirping, plants dancing in the sunshine as the wind kised their leaves, the sound of children hard at work at the school just a stone's throw away, the collective sound of each household's ambience was a song, soothing, perfect yet never heard. I sat in my father's gallery chair with my foot resting on the banister. I plugged my headphones into my ear, my own personal stopcork to stop the world's insanity from flooding my mind. I scrolled to my playlist on my iPod that contained 12 short clips of some of Sam Lake's work. I listened to it and let it cleanse my mind while letting my spirit run free. In doing so, I was reborn a free man.
I take no pride in my failure, my crime, what I had done, and I wish I hadn't. It lies there, a hungry pit behind me that will keep gnashing and snapping its teeth in the depths of my mind. It will stay there as I dangle the one thing it craves - my peace of mind - in front of it, until I am rested enough to resume battle; pick up my shield and armor, sword and helmet, and face it down once more.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
OK Couva, Here I Come
This weekend, I have to say was a bit different. Surprisingly, it didn't consist of me sitting at my computer in a pair of my most comfortable tighty-multicolouries, breaking a sweat as I got frustrated trying to find that legendary keygen for that uncrackable piece of sftware. Instead, my mom shipped me off to spend the two days of rest with my cousin in apart of Trinidad that's called Couva.
OK this is about as much as I know about the place:
The area circled in red ink is where I live. The area circled in blue is where I believe Couva is.
Ok enough Geography, let's move on.
So I spent my weekend in that regien of the country and I have to admit, it wasn't half bad. It's been eons since I breathed in some fresh, pure, crisp air. The air where I live is a stench horse saddled with a cowboy of weed, exhaust and my neighbour's cooking (not very good).
The jouney up was long, but relaxing; my cousin's lead foot didn;t seem to make the drive any shorter. Along the way, he pointed out various landmarks, significant structures all of whom I forgot existed no sooner that the street light's film of luminesence slid over my face. Facing forward, feeling the breeze wash over my hand as it precariously protrouded out of the passenger window, I felt the air losing density; breaking free of it's impure shackles. I saw new structures being erected, the smell of forward progress and development was all that was in the air at one point in time - the music of the car's stereo was all a blur.
I finally arrived at his house, a nice place - comfortable, *ultimately digitized, yet posessing the inevitable qualities of his wife's feminine touch. Clean as a whistle and inifitely more quiet was the general description I would issue to all of the houses existing in his area, including his. By docking of coincidence, he happened to live not to far away from my girlfriend's house - about a minute's walk, so automatically, paying her a visit (provided that it was OK with her parents) was bumped up high on my to-do list. Arriving at my place of temporary residence past the hour of 8 o' clock left very little time for many accomplishments. A few minutes of TV, a small meal and a quick brushing of the teeth was the order of the night before I retired to bed.
I awoke the next day in the wee hours of the afternoon, donning my trademark vest and boxer shorts; this was basically the outfit for the rest of the day. I had some breakfast then did the manly thing and helped my cousin out with his PC. The barter of information proved truly beneficial - he taught me some things, I returned the favour - a pretty educational bonding moment in my books. The visiting hour drew close at hand and a change of attire was in order. I followed the general dress code of the area, asked my cousin for directions to my girlfriend's street, plugged in my iPod and hit the road.
Something very strange happend at this point:
Now I know that i'm no geographer or any descendant of Christopher Columbus or anything but I know I can follow basic directions. Sadly enough, those Columbus genes would have come in handy from the moment my cousin pointed out the way to the point where I reached a part of the community that nobody knew of. You see, because of my cuz's position (in the bedroom) in relation to the street, when he said go right, it meant a left and vice versa so in essence I ended up in a part of the community where nobody knew where they were or how I could get to my destination; like they were teleported there and stripped of all X,Y,Z reference points as to determine their geographical location or to point me in the right direction.
What else seemed strange was the expression on their face and the activities that everybody seemed to be doing at the same time on the same day in the same section of their yard. When I asked this one guy for directions, he kind of animated in a slow atomaton-like manner, breaking free from the chains of his pre-defined slave-like routine and said that he didn't know the location which I ssought to find. I said thanks and walked away. Something about this place didn't feel right - a hard plastic, cast-in-stone society was the vibe I picked up. Another thing that was strange, however was the fact that everbody had one of three breeds of dogs yet nobody had a leash. Dogs seemed to be the only liberal beings in this town.
Rotwilders, pompeks and mixed-breeds all seemed to roam the streets, happier than ever in a sick type of harmony.
The suburbain Beetle Juice-esque maze got to me eventually. I got desperate. Long story short, a nice atomaton offered me a ride to where I wanted to be (she didn't know of my desired location either, it was my girlfriend's siter who gave her the directions... which she still seemed to have a hard time following; you know, the no X,Y,Z thing can be a pain.)
Thankfully, I got to where I needed to be, but no sooner than I set foot out of the car, the map of the community changed and I was consumed once moe by the beast of geographic confusion. No matter though, I was where I needed to be.
So from watching my girlfriend psychadellically trip out over imaginary insects, to swinging a stick in a pseudo-karatica styled fashion and nearly impaling all of the family members and the neighbour's dog, the evening was well spent. Me my girlfriend and her sis (mih rheal hoss) sat down and ahd ourseleves a little evening lime. Nice, relaxing, no pressure... fun.
All in all, Couva ain't bad - with a few Geo. lessons and a group of niggas from the west side (The big DM) the area will be perfect. I didn't get a good look at al the hunnies up in that piece though, but suburbian girls are usually "da' shiznit"
So that was my Couva visit. I advise you take a weekend and head to the location that I outlined in the map - you just might like where you end up ;)
OK this is about as much as I know about the place:
The area circled in red ink is where I live. The area circled in blue is where I believe Couva is.
Ok enough Geography, let's move on.
So I spent my weekend in that regien of the country and I have to admit, it wasn't half bad. It's been eons since I breathed in some fresh, pure, crisp air. The air where I live is a stench horse saddled with a cowboy of weed, exhaust and my neighbour's cooking (not very good).
The jouney up was long, but relaxing; my cousin's lead foot didn;t seem to make the drive any shorter. Along the way, he pointed out various landmarks, significant structures all of whom I forgot existed no sooner that the street light's film of luminesence slid over my face. Facing forward, feeling the breeze wash over my hand as it precariously protrouded out of the passenger window, I felt the air losing density; breaking free of it's impure shackles. I saw new structures being erected, the smell of forward progress and development was all that was in the air at one point in time - the music of the car's stereo was all a blur.
I finally arrived at his house, a nice place - comfortable, *ultimately digitized, yet posessing the inevitable qualities of his wife's feminine touch. Clean as a whistle and inifitely more quiet was the general description I would issue to all of the houses existing in his area, including his. By docking of coincidence, he happened to live not to far away from my girlfriend's house - about a minute's walk, so automatically, paying her a visit (provided that it was OK with her parents) was bumped up high on my to-do list. Arriving at my place of temporary residence past the hour of 8 o' clock left very little time for many accomplishments. A few minutes of TV, a small meal and a quick brushing of the teeth was the order of the night before I retired to bed.
I awoke the next day in the wee hours of the afternoon, donning my trademark vest and boxer shorts; this was basically the outfit for the rest of the day. I had some breakfast then did the manly thing and helped my cousin out with his PC. The barter of information proved truly beneficial - he taught me some things, I returned the favour - a pretty educational bonding moment in my books. The visiting hour drew close at hand and a change of attire was in order. I followed the general dress code of the area, asked my cousin for directions to my girlfriend's street, plugged in my iPod and hit the road.
Something very strange happend at this point:
Now I know that i'm no geographer or any descendant of Christopher Columbus or anything but I know I can follow basic directions. Sadly enough, those Columbus genes would have come in handy from the moment my cousin pointed out the way to the point where I reached a part of the community that nobody knew of. You see, because of my cuz's position (in the bedroom) in relation to the street, when he said go right, it meant a left and vice versa so in essence I ended up in a part of the community where nobody knew where they were or how I could get to my destination; like they were teleported there and stripped of all X,Y,Z reference points as to determine their geographical location or to point me in the right direction.
What else seemed strange was the expression on their face and the activities that everybody seemed to be doing at the same time on the same day in the same section of their yard. When I asked this one guy for directions, he kind of animated in a slow atomaton-like manner, breaking free from the chains of his pre-defined slave-like routine and said that he didn't know the location which I ssought to find. I said thanks and walked away. Something about this place didn't feel right - a hard plastic, cast-in-stone society was the vibe I picked up. Another thing that was strange, however was the fact that everbody had one of three breeds of dogs yet nobody had a leash. Dogs seemed to be the only liberal beings in this town.
Rotwilders, pompeks and mixed-breeds all seemed to roam the streets, happier than ever in a sick type of harmony.
The suburbain Beetle Juice-esque maze got to me eventually. I got desperate. Long story short, a nice atomaton offered me a ride to where I wanted to be (she didn't know of my desired location either, it was my girlfriend's siter who gave her the directions... which she still seemed to have a hard time following; you know, the no X,Y,Z thing can be a pain.)
Thankfully, I got to where I needed to be, but no sooner than I set foot out of the car, the map of the community changed and I was consumed once moe by the beast of geographic confusion. No matter though, I was where I needed to be.
So from watching my girlfriend psychadellically trip out over imaginary insects, to swinging a stick in a pseudo-karatica styled fashion and nearly impaling all of the family members and the neighbour's dog, the evening was well spent. Me my girlfriend and her sis (mih rheal hoss) sat down and ahd ourseleves a little evening lime. Nice, relaxing, no pressure... fun.
All in all, Couva ain't bad - with a few Geo. lessons and a group of niggas from the west side (The big DM) the area will be perfect. I didn't get a good look at al the hunnies up in that piece though, but suburbian girls are usually "da' shiznit"
So that was my Couva visit. I advise you take a weekend and head to the location that I outlined in the map - you just might like where you end up ;)
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Comp - 101 Epi-issue 1
Welcome to Always thinking – the blog that puts its feet up on your mom’s new couch. For this entry, I think I’ll do something a little different – I’m going to answer most, if not all of the questions that I get pertaining to system memory or RAM as most of us know it. This entry was originally intended to be a Revision3 type episode but then I realized that none of you bastards reading this are worth that kind of effort (actually, my camera batteries died so I couldn’t do the video :( )
So what is RAM? Why is it so necessary? What are the benefits of adding more? Those are just a few of the questions we are going to answer on today’s entry. I’m going to take you on an in-depth tutorial where I will show you all the steps involved in upgrading your system’s memory.
Let’s get started:
What is RAM?
RAM stands for Random Access Memory. For simplicity sake, we’re going to say that RAM is a temporary storage space utilized by programs and processes that are running in Windows.
What are the benefits of RAM?
Basically, the more you have the better. It gives you, the user more headroom for maneuverability when using the machine. Having more means that you can have more programs running without enduring a sluggish and non-responsive windows session. For example, if you have 512MB of memory, this means that you can have programs like your media player and word processor running while surfing the internet or chatting and barely sense a lag in the response time of the browser or any of the other programs; as opposed to having, say, 128MB – then you might want to take it easy on the application launching. Using one app at a time would be your limit as opposed to three or four simultaneously.
Why is this? This is because every program you use takes up a certain amount of your computer’s total memory; some programs use more than others.
There is a way to detect how much system memory you have though. It’s a tool built right into windows (since Windows 95, I believe) that a lot of people seldom know how to use or use to its fullest potential, that is – the Windows Task Manager. We’re going to take a look at it right now.
Task Manager
Video 1 - Determining System RAM
Video 2 - Installing RAM
The Test
OK now that our new RAM is installed let’s see how our system’s performance compares. Here is a speed chart where I tested the start times of The System Startup Process, Windows Media Player, Internet Explorer and just to push it to the limit, Photoshop CS3. As you can see, our system bears much better with the new headroom.
Graph showing system performance
System Startup: Not heavily affected by how much RAM you have, but the state of your registry, hard drive and prefetch folder.
Windows Media Player: This program used to take forever to launch when I had less RAM. Now it takes 3 seconds.
Internet Explorer: No big improvements, mainly becausee I don’t have any tool bars installed in IE. Now takes 4 seconds.
Photoshop CS3: The big wait as I used to refer to it. This is where having more memory shines: it takes 3 seconds to launch as opposed to a previous 15.
Knowing Your Type
Purchasing RAM is a pain in the ass. There are so many specifications that the module has to meet if it is to ever work in your system. If the gap in a module you buy is off by 2 millimeters, it simply won’t work. So before you go shopping there are a few things you should know about the type of RAM that you’re using.
Firstly, extract one of the RAM chips that your computer is currently using, there should be a label on it that looks similar to this:
My 256MB RAM Module
Pay attention to the brand, size, order and speed.
Place the chip back into the machine and go into the computers BIOS setup. You should see a prompt at startup similar to this “Press F2 to enter setup”. Once you’re in, navigate to the System Memory branch and write down the information there. Pay close attention to the Type (DDR1,2… SD/DRAM). When calling around to find our prices, the RAM type inquisition should follow this format “Do you have any PC(speed) DDR(1,2…) (size) memory modules?” In my case, the question was “Do you pricks have any PC3200 SD DDR2 512MB memory modules?”
I’ve compiled a price list for those interested in bulking up on memory.
ECC Tech: $345
Take it from me, KNOW YOUR RAM TYPE. It’s very frustrating to (1) Spend all day walking around the place looking (2) Buy memory, reach home then realize it’s the wrong type so you have to return to the store, which at this point might tell you that they don’t have the type you need. This can make you cry more so because most stores aren’t as friendly as Circuit Zone. Other stores (the Wizz) will tell you “hard luck”, take your money, leave you RAM-less and give you a shitty credit note for the money that they stole from you. As we all know, nothing that you need in a computer store is less expensive than RAM… aside from CDs… which you could buy 100 for $89.
I beg of you, take out your RAM chip, inspect the label, refer to this guide and get the memory that’s right for you. It’ll save you a lot of time and money in the process.
Well that’s all for this edition of Comp101. Any question or episode suggestions can be sent to kshep92@hotmail.com. Remember, this is not just a hardware show questions on software are welcomed as well. Thanks for watching, I’ll see you next time.
So what is RAM? Why is it so necessary? What are the benefits of adding more? Those are just a few of the questions we are going to answer on today’s entry. I’m going to take you on an in-depth tutorial where I will show you all the steps involved in upgrading your system’s memory.
Let’s get started:
What is RAM?
RAM stands for Random Access Memory. For simplicity sake, we’re going to say that RAM is a temporary storage space utilized by programs and processes that are running in Windows.
What are the benefits of RAM?
Basically, the more you have the better. It gives you, the user more headroom for maneuverability when using the machine. Having more means that you can have more programs running without enduring a sluggish and non-responsive windows session. For example, if you have 512MB of memory, this means that you can have programs like your media player and word processor running while surfing the internet or chatting and barely sense a lag in the response time of the browser or any of the other programs; as opposed to having, say, 128MB – then you might want to take it easy on the application launching. Using one app at a time would be your limit as opposed to three or four simultaneously.
Why is this? This is because every program you use takes up a certain amount of your computer’s total memory; some programs use more than others.
There is a way to detect how much system memory you have though. It’s a tool built right into windows (since Windows 95, I believe) that a lot of people seldom know how to use or use to its fullest potential, that is – the Windows Task Manager. We’re going to take a look at it right now.
Task Manager
Video 1 - Determining System RAM
Video 2 - Installing RAM
The Test
OK now that our new RAM is installed let’s see how our system’s performance compares. Here is a speed chart where I tested the start times of The System Startup Process, Windows Media Player, Internet Explorer and just to push it to the limit, Photoshop CS3. As you can see, our system bears much better with the new headroom.
Graph showing system performance
System Startup: Not heavily affected by how much RAM you have, but the state of your registry, hard drive and prefetch folder.
Windows Media Player: This program used to take forever to launch when I had less RAM. Now it takes 3 seconds.
Internet Explorer: No big improvements, mainly becausee I don’t have any tool bars installed in IE. Now takes 4 seconds.
Photoshop CS3: The big wait as I used to refer to it. This is where having more memory shines: it takes 3 seconds to launch as opposed to a previous 15.
Knowing Your Type
Purchasing RAM is a pain in the ass. There are so many specifications that the module has to meet if it is to ever work in your system. If the gap in a module you buy is off by 2 millimeters, it simply won’t work. So before you go shopping there are a few things you should know about the type of RAM that you’re using.
Firstly, extract one of the RAM chips that your computer is currently using, there should be a label on it that looks similar to this:
My 256MB RAM Module
Pay attention to the brand, size, order and speed.
Place the chip back into the machine and go into the computers BIOS setup. You should see a prompt at startup similar to this “Press F2 to enter setup”. Once you’re in, navigate to the System Memory branch and write down the information there. Pay close attention to the Type (DDR1,2… SD/DRAM). When calling around to find our prices, the RAM type inquisition should follow this format “Do you have any PC(speed) DDR(1,2…) (size) memory modules?” In my case, the question was “Do you pricks have any PC3200 SD DDR2 512MB memory modules?”
Important! For Dell machines, tell the sales rep. that you do, in fact have a Dell and give the model number. Dell PCs don’t accept any old memory modules for some apparent reason. It’s best to go with a Kingston brand, which sadly is more expensive.
I’ve compiled a price list for those interested in bulking up on memory.
ECC Tech: $345
F1 Connect $700 (Fuck them!)
Circuit Zone $450 – ($550 for Dell Machines)
InterPC ltd: $600
The Wizz Computers:$400 ($650 for Dell machines)
Take it from me, KNOW YOUR RAM TYPE. It’s very frustrating to (1) Spend all day walking around the place looking (2) Buy memory, reach home then realize it’s the wrong type so you have to return to the store, which at this point might tell you that they don’t have the type you need. This can make you cry more so because most stores aren’t as friendly as Circuit Zone. Other stores (the Wizz) will tell you “hard luck”, take your money, leave you RAM-less and give you a shitty credit note for the money that they stole from you. As we all know, nothing that you need in a computer store is less expensive than RAM… aside from CDs… which you could buy 100 for $89.
I beg of you, take out your RAM chip, inspect the label, refer to this guide and get the memory that’s right for you. It’ll save you a lot of time and money in the process.
Well that’s all for this edition of Comp101. Any question or episode suggestions can be sent to kshep92@hotmail.com. Remember, this is not just a hardware show questions on software are welcomed as well. Thanks for watching, I’ll see you next time.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Out With the Old...
Aaaah... Can you smell that? Can you feel that? It's the scent of free HDD tracks and the feeling of data rushing past your eyes at breakneck speeds... Can you hear that? That's the sound of my PC no longer screaming to boot up, the child-like sound of free pieces of RAM sitting idly by, ready for me to fill them with tasks.
I bet by now you're thinking that i'm celebrating 420 a little too hard but i'm not. I'm just really pleased with myself bceause I have just finished my PC's spring cleaning '07. It's the first time I did this kind of thing, it's really hard work, it's time consuming but it's 100% worth it.
Me downloading the EC drivers. Observe the download speed
This is how your Task Manger should be. Nothing more, nothing less.
In burning all of my stuff to DVD,the drive got so hot that the DVDs scorched my fingers when I tried to take them out :P - now that's hardcore!
So that's about the size of that...
Things to look forward to:
I bet by now you're thinking that i'm celebrating 420 a little too hard but i'm not. I'm just really pleased with myself bceause I have just finished my PC's spring cleaning '07. It's the first time I did this kind of thing, it's really hard work, it's time consuming but it's 100% worth it.
When was the last time you saw a desktop this Clean?
What I did was I backed up all of my files that I deemed "keep worthy"onto DVDs and CDs and performed a clean installation of Windows XP. The drive was wiped clean of all existing data, as it was time to start anew.
I did run into some problems though. During the first installation attempt, I fucked up terribly to the point where I got the blue screen of death that basically said "Your hard drive is on the verge of becoming 100% useless" (Shame on you Partition Magic!) Anyway, as you can see from the screenshot, I bounced back and my PC is working as good as good can get.
Another problem was that Windows didin't have all of my drivers - including the one for my video card and my ethernet controller so I had to sneak back down the road of frustration and use TSTT's 619-EASY dial-up account. My God! Thank you for DSL! I forgot how slow that shit was.Oh, the reason I did that was because I had to go to Dell's website to find the drivers I needed.
Me downloading the EC drivers. Observe the download speed
So once the Ethernet drivers were taken care of, I just went on to get the video drivers, etc.
I can't begin tell you how good it feels to work on a machine that feels light and welcoming to new commands... sigh....
This is how your Task Manger should be. Nothing more, nothing less.
Remember when I told you this was time consuming? Well I started this project since Thursday. I must admint that backing up my stuff was the hardest part. I occupied 130 out of the 145 GB that the partition could hold. Mom and my sister's entire user accounts were able to fit on 1 CD while mine... well... I'll put the pic of what my archive looks like tomorrow. (It's too dark now to take a picture.)
In burning all of my stuff to DVD,the drive got so hot that the DVDs scorched my fingers when I tried to take them out :P - now that's hardcore!
So that's about the size of that...
Things to look forward to:
- Photoshop CS3 review (video)
Plenty of people in my graphic design circle are anxious to see what the next version of Adobe's photo editing powerhouse has in store for them. I'm adding more memory on Monday, so i'll record when I have the resources. - New Site
A website dedicated to my new independent film project: YOUth. News, updates and media coverage on the film's development.
That's it for this edition, hope to see you in the next. Peace, love and parrots!
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Smelter Greece
Hey all, for all who are interested in how my weekend was, keep reading; all others... eat me.
'Twas Thursday night when the Mrs. and I descended upon the town of movies (Movie Towne) to watch the video release of Frank Miller's epic comic book tale - 300. The movie was good, but let me start by calling the casting director of the movie a home wrecker and a dark angel of male insecurities; here's why:
I'm sitting next to my girl in the movie and I find that she's rather quiet. So I turned my head and I swear to you, when I looked over at her all I saw was the rippled, greased down lower region of the male torso reflecting in her eyes - right at that moment she looked back at me and she was like "Oh my gosh, look at those SEXY abs" then she made a sound like a grunt or a purr or some kind of audible satisfaction indicator. Now, this, my friend, is a prime example of how us Trinis only like our shit imported - we don't deal with that local nonsesne. I have abs, I can grease them down (as a matter of fact I have) and I don't get compliments like that; but some Dave Navarro looking character does it and it's all sexy all of a sudden. Another thing is that if I were to prance around in leather jockey shorts with boots, a sword and a flowing red cape screaming "This is DIEGO!!!!", it will be anything bust sexy to the local lusting females. I might even get beaten down by some cops and pressed with a drug charge.
Home wrecking and imparted jealousy aside, 300 is a good film with intense action and offers something for everybody, and by everybody I mean every kind of sexual fetish imaginable -
Under aged nude girls having seizures - [X]
Overly buff man seemingly overpowering fragile female - [X]
Rape - [X]
Haunch back leather draws ass-shot [XXXXXX]
If you're not interested in any of those then what kind of freak are you? :p
So that was the movie...
Friday night arrived and a viewing of a school play was in order... but before we get to that, let's take a trip back in time.........
Two weeks ago:
This was when I was invited to the play by the Mrs. and was offered 3 tickets - one for me, one for mom and one for my sis. The ticket offer was refused because mom had a friend who had some tickets on reserve. We were still going to the play, though.
Thursday night:
The movie was finished and my mom dropped my girlfriend off at her house. Before we left the car, she asked mom if we were still coming to the play tomorrow to which my mom responded with a very vigorous and hyper active "yes". I walked my girl to her door, said goodnight and that was that.
Friday - 5:00pm
I walk in the bedroom only to hear my mother and my sister in their usual conspiracy development sessions, plotting at how to fuck up my life more (metaphorically speaking). I was under the misconception that the play started at 6 so I was about to ask mom when she was going to start to get ready, but she interrupted my question to ask my sister "when is (your boyfriend) coming to pick you up?". I took a step back, my jaw slightly ajar with disgust. Knowing my sister as being the usual traitor to the family i.e. one to put water over blood (I told you she was a fish) I just chalked it up as one of her "I'm too good to spend time with you losers" moments and just brushed it off. Shortly after, I heard mom saying that she's going to get ready for church. At this point I said to myself "what the fuck?" So I'm really confused now because I thought we had a play scheduled for viewing. I go to my mom and I ask her - "Aren't we supposed to go to the play tonight?" and then she was like "Oh shucks, I forgot to to tell you, our tickets got sold". Now audience, I'm not ashamed to say it, I'm pissing mad at this point!
Friday - 5:28pm
I call my girlfriend and in a very sheepish tone of voice asked her if she still had the tickets that she offered me a few weeks ago. Is it just me or does that request sound a bit ridiculous? Anyway, she said no, as was expected. She did tell me, however, that tickets will be sold at the venue; so I saw hope yet. She also said that she would be there by about 7:30 so that in itself was a time limit. I officially felt like that dude from 24 - I was on a mission - get to the venue, get an admission ticket and be calm and ready for her arrival OR be denied entry and slip through the crack in the exit and trudge my sad ass home before my girlfriend showed up. If I didn't get that ticket, I felt like I would have embarrassed her on so many levels... more levels than there are on Super Mario for the NES. Think about it - everybody at her school knows my face and they know that we're associated so if I were to go there all dressed up and pressed up only to be denied entry to the event then I think that that would give her some kind of label like "you is d girl who man come d play d odda day an en get een?" I would never forgive myself.
6:54pm
Mom dropped me at the auditorium on her way to church - the crowd is scarce - not many people there to taunt me about my blatant rejection if it came to that. I approach the entrance with bulging eyes, looking out for any ticket scalpers. None in sight.
I enter the lobby area and approach the box office. I ask for a ticket. They say they have no extras. I feel the urine escaping my bladder. I quietly take a seat and twiddle my thumbs. There was a lady next to me and like a desperate ticket whore I asked "Lady, you got any tickets? I'll wash your car, man!" She just looked at me with pitiful eyes and explained to me a strategy to score a ticket - she said that everybody who reserved tickets aren't coming and if I hung around the box office long enough I can overhear one of those such cases and swoop in and snatch the opportunity.
7:15pm
I stand in front of the box office, sweating like a slave in a wood shed. I make Clint Eastwood style eye contact with the admissions officer - I swore I saw her mouthing "Do you feel lucky, punk?" through the bullet proof window. I put my hands in my pocket, the blue note dancing about my fingers chanting "you'll never get to spend me, ha ha ha".
7:21pm
My girlfriend was nearly at the location, the admissions officer gurned at me. At this point, I was formulating how to make my disappointed exit as suave and seamless as possible, but I asked God for a miracle just one more time. At that moment, two girls walked in and stepped up to the counter. They had a ticket that was reserved but not paid for and the person would not be attending the play tonight. Breakaway slave's bliss possessed me and I just let out one of those audible satisfaction sounds, though mine sounded more like urination relief. I pasted myself up on the admission glass and shoved the money through the slot. You'd never think that a nigger would be this happy for a piece of torn bristol board.
7:34pm
After minutes of ticket worship and giving praises to God, I got a call from that special someone asking if I got the ticket. I replied with a very proud positive answer and hung up. Just then, I caught a glimpse of a family of four - ticket less and well dressed. If you think I was about to give up my own, then it goes to show how much you don't know me - it's every nigger for himself, bitch!
8:16pm
She arrives with her dad and the three of us proceeded to watch the show.
I'll tell you one thing though, when I laid eyes on her for the first time that night, I thought that the goddess of all things exceptionally beautiful and ideal, stepped down from high atop Mount Olympus herself and graced me with her presence. I felt unworthy to be in her company once more. Like the astronauts who accidentally steered into the sun, I was incinerated by her beauty and blinded - by her magnificence... her radiance. She felt unreal, and dream-like to the touch but I know I wasn't sleeping for if I were having a dream about her, her dad would definitely not be in it - I guarantee it.
Anyway... the play was good an all, something about smelting. I enjoyed it, she enjoyed it and everybody followed suit. The seating arrangement was a little.... myeah. It was me, then her then her father. To anybody else this would spell "death to the suiter" but her pops is real cool. Even though there was this one time... Hmm... I felt his eyes piercing through the darkness to find me. Being in his line of sight I could hear his telepathy, it said something like "I know what you're thinking rap scallion, you ain't tossin' no salad tonight!" It could also just be me being an ass...
Either way, that's my weekend thus far. I must leave now, however. I've got an overseas call to make to that goddess from last night - yeah I got the number. I work fast, homie ;)
'Twas Thursday night when the Mrs. and I descended upon the town of movies (Movie Towne) to watch the video release of Frank Miller's epic comic book tale - 300. The movie was good, but let me start by calling the casting director of the movie a home wrecker and a dark angel of male insecurities; here's why:
I'm sitting next to my girl in the movie and I find that she's rather quiet. So I turned my head and I swear to you, when I looked over at her all I saw was the rippled, greased down lower region of the male torso reflecting in her eyes - right at that moment she looked back at me and she was like "Oh my gosh, look at those SEXY abs" then she made a sound like a grunt or a purr or some kind of audible satisfaction indicator. Now, this, my friend, is a prime example of how us Trinis only like our shit imported - we don't deal with that local nonsesne. I have abs, I can grease them down (as a matter of fact I have) and I don't get compliments like that; but some Dave Navarro looking character does it and it's all sexy all of a sudden. Another thing is that if I were to prance around in leather jockey shorts with boots, a sword and a flowing red cape screaming "This is DIEGO!!!!", it will be anything bust sexy to the local lusting females. I might even get beaten down by some cops and pressed with a drug charge.
Home wrecking and imparted jealousy aside, 300 is a good film with intense action and offers something for everybody, and by everybody I mean every kind of sexual fetish imaginable -
Under aged nude girls having seizures - [X]
Overly buff man seemingly overpowering fragile female - [X]
Rape - [X]
Haunch back leather draws ass-shot [XXXXXX]
If you're not interested in any of those then what kind of freak are you? :p
So that was the movie...
Friday night arrived and a viewing of a school play was in order... but before we get to that, let's take a trip back in time.........
Two weeks ago:
This was when I was invited to the play by the Mrs. and was offered 3 tickets - one for me, one for mom and one for my sis. The ticket offer was refused because mom had a friend who had some tickets on reserve. We were still going to the play, though.
Thursday night:
The movie was finished and my mom dropped my girlfriend off at her house. Before we left the car, she asked mom if we were still coming to the play tomorrow to which my mom responded with a very vigorous and hyper active "yes". I walked my girl to her door, said goodnight and that was that.
Friday - 5:00pm
I walk in the bedroom only to hear my mother and my sister in their usual conspiracy development sessions, plotting at how to fuck up my life more (metaphorically speaking). I was under the misconception that the play started at 6 so I was about to ask mom when she was going to start to get ready, but she interrupted my question to ask my sister "when is (your boyfriend) coming to pick you up?". I took a step back, my jaw slightly ajar with disgust. Knowing my sister as being the usual traitor to the family i.e. one to put water over blood (I told you she was a fish) I just chalked it up as one of her "I'm too good to spend time with you losers" moments and just brushed it off. Shortly after, I heard mom saying that she's going to get ready for church. At this point I said to myself "what the fuck?" So I'm really confused now because I thought we had a play scheduled for viewing. I go to my mom and I ask her - "Aren't we supposed to go to the play tonight?" and then she was like "Oh shucks, I forgot to to tell you, our tickets got sold". Now audience, I'm not ashamed to say it, I'm pissing mad at this point!
Friday - 5:28pm
I call my girlfriend and in a very sheepish tone of voice asked her if she still had the tickets that she offered me a few weeks ago. Is it just me or does that request sound a bit ridiculous? Anyway, she said no, as was expected. She did tell me, however, that tickets will be sold at the venue; so I saw hope yet. She also said that she would be there by about 7:30 so that in itself was a time limit. I officially felt like that dude from 24 - I was on a mission - get to the venue, get an admission ticket and be calm and ready for her arrival OR be denied entry and slip through the crack in the exit and trudge my sad ass home before my girlfriend showed up. If I didn't get that ticket, I felt like I would have embarrassed her on so many levels... more levels than there are on Super Mario for the NES. Think about it - everybody at her school knows my face and they know that we're associated so if I were to go there all dressed up and pressed up only to be denied entry to the event then I think that that would give her some kind of label like "you is d girl who man come d play d odda day an en get een?" I would never forgive myself.
6:54pm
Mom dropped me at the auditorium on her way to church - the crowd is scarce - not many people there to taunt me about my blatant rejection if it came to that. I approach the entrance with bulging eyes, looking out for any ticket scalpers. None in sight.
I enter the lobby area and approach the box office. I ask for a ticket. They say they have no extras. I feel the urine escaping my bladder. I quietly take a seat and twiddle my thumbs. There was a lady next to me and like a desperate ticket whore I asked "Lady, you got any tickets? I'll wash your car, man!" She just looked at me with pitiful eyes and explained to me a strategy to score a ticket - she said that everybody who reserved tickets aren't coming and if I hung around the box office long enough I can overhear one of those such cases and swoop in and snatch the opportunity.
7:15pm
I stand in front of the box office, sweating like a slave in a wood shed. I make Clint Eastwood style eye contact with the admissions officer - I swore I saw her mouthing "Do you feel lucky, punk?" through the bullet proof window. I put my hands in my pocket, the blue note dancing about my fingers chanting "you'll never get to spend me, ha ha ha".
7:21pm
My girlfriend was nearly at the location, the admissions officer gurned at me. At this point, I was formulating how to make my disappointed exit as suave and seamless as possible, but I asked God for a miracle just one more time. At that moment, two girls walked in and stepped up to the counter. They had a ticket that was reserved but not paid for and the person would not be attending the play tonight. Breakaway slave's bliss possessed me and I just let out one of those audible satisfaction sounds, though mine sounded more like urination relief. I pasted myself up on the admission glass and shoved the money through the slot. You'd never think that a nigger would be this happy for a piece of torn bristol board.
7:34pm
After minutes of ticket worship and giving praises to God, I got a call from that special someone asking if I got the ticket. I replied with a very proud positive answer and hung up. Just then, I caught a glimpse of a family of four - ticket less and well dressed. If you think I was about to give up my own, then it goes to show how much you don't know me - it's every nigger for himself, bitch!
8:16pm
She arrives with her dad and the three of us proceeded to watch the show.
I'll tell you one thing though, when I laid eyes on her for the first time that night, I thought that the goddess of all things exceptionally beautiful and ideal, stepped down from high atop Mount Olympus herself and graced me with her presence. I felt unworthy to be in her company once more. Like the astronauts who accidentally steered into the sun, I was incinerated by her beauty and blinded - by her magnificence... her radiance. She felt unreal, and dream-like to the touch but I know I wasn't sleeping for if I were having a dream about her, her dad would definitely not be in it - I guarantee it.
Anyway... the play was good an all, something about smelting. I enjoyed it, she enjoyed it and everybody followed suit. The seating arrangement was a little.... myeah. It was me, then her then her father. To anybody else this would spell "death to the suiter" but her pops is real cool. Even though there was this one time... Hmm... I felt his eyes piercing through the darkness to find me. Being in his line of sight I could hear his telepathy, it said something like "I know what you're thinking rap scallion, you ain't tossin' no salad tonight!" It could also just be me being an ass...
Either way, that's my weekend thus far. I must leave now, however. I've got an overseas call to make to that goddess from last night - yeah I got the number. I work fast, homie ;)
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Port Forwarding
Eve
rybody in my country is finally getting up2ditime and getting this DSL thing. That's all well and good, but because just like soca, piracy is in the genetic make-up of our people, we are left high and dry when it comes to getting that fix of ill-gotten software that we need. As we all know, Bittorrrent and all other torrent clients and even P2P clients like Limewire seldom work at giving us that much lusted for 32Kbps download speed.
Fear not! For Kevin has found a solution. Here is a tutorial on how to configure your router (the black box that TSTT gives you) for Port Forwarding... but first, you need to download a Bittorrent client. I highly recommend uTorrent over all of them (even Azureus) because it's lightweight and easy to use.
Then you need to set up your computer with a static IP address. Learn how to do so here. The general principle can be applied when setting up other file sharing applications or BT clients.
The only thing is that you may have to make a separate entry for UDP utilization but it's simpler than it sounds. Do the same thing that yo did when you were setting up the TCP option, but insert UDP in the TCP slot.
I guarantee you, it works:
At the bottom of the image, you'll see my download speed (not at max, but only because I'm using some bandwidth to make this entry.) As you can see I'll have God of War 2 by Thursday bitches!!
My own version of Deviant Art lol! Gotta say I'm getting better at this cell-shading thing...
rybody in my country is finally getting up2ditime and getting this DSL thing. That's all well and good, but because just like soca, piracy is in the genetic make-up of our people, we are left high and dry when it comes to getting that fix of ill-gotten software that we need. As we all know, Bittorrrent and all other torrent clients and even P2P clients like Limewire seldom work at giving us that much lusted for 32Kbps download speed.Fear not! For Kevin has found a solution. Here is a tutorial on how to configure your router (the black box that TSTT gives you) for Port Forwarding... but first, you need to download a Bittorrent client. I highly recommend uTorrent over all of them (even Azureus) because it's lightweight and easy to use.
Then you need to set up your computer with a static IP address. Learn how to do so here. The general principle can be applied when setting up other file sharing applications or BT clients.
The only thing is that you may have to make a separate entry for UDP utilization but it's simpler than it sounds. Do the same thing that yo did when you were setting up the TCP option, but insert UDP in the TCP slot.
I guarantee you, it works:
At the bottom of the image, you'll see my download speed (not at max, but only because I'm using some bandwidth to make this entry.) As you can see I'll have God of War 2 by Thursday bitches!!
My own version of Deviant Art lol! Gotta say I'm getting better at this cell-shading thing...
Friday, March 23, 2007
Etiquette 101
For far too long I have been a "good guy". For far too long have I sat idly by with a cauldron cover the size of Japan dancing nervously over the sea of molten, venomous words that undulates restlessly in my mouth. People who have been unfortunate enough to be singed by the steam vapours and because of this, have called me an insensitive jerk, have yet to feel the full emotional and psychological burn of what my words can do to a person.
OK it's like this - I'm a nice guy: respectful, tolerant and generally very pleasant to be around as I am indeed sensitive to other people's feelings and I can sense certain topics, that when spoken on around a certain individual can indeed be a little pressure blotch for them. Apparently the rest of this world is not like me. I think it probably stems from the one instance that I took shit (taking shit: being spoken to rudely and don't respond with a flury of cuss words) from somebody and now everybody else seems to mistake me for a toilet. I seem to be a target for people who "don't have a cover fro their mouth" a.k.a. "Fuckin' assholes" in my book, to show to the world just how coverless, raw, uncouth and uncaring their mouth is.
Jot this down in history folks: the first morally correct entry of the Diego Deviant’s history
Case Study No. 1: Internet Acquaintances
Let’s say you post pictures on a website like Hi5 to show the world just how perty you look. You look nice in the pictures, but when I meet you in person you look like you ass felt a chill and sneaked upstairs to hug your face and somewhere along the line, the two merged, making you look like a cross between a cross-section of a loaf of bread and a sea cow on the verge of death.
How I would handle it (the disappointment of your hideousness): I would greet you politely, talk to you normally, end the date gracefully and hopefully never see you again.
How the “coverless mouth” people would handle it: “oh gosh, how you lookin’ so? You en look like nuttin’ I see in dem pictures, gosh you OGLEE!!!... No offense eh (sheepish laugh)”
Two things, if you think being discourteous is cute – it’s not. And “no offence” DOESN’T FUCKIN’ CUT IT!!!! You’re just as bad as a racist.
I get that a lot by the way. Not about my ugliness (‘cause I’m not) but about mostly my stature and size. You see, I’ve got bareback pictures of me up on Hi5 where I’m all flexing muscle and stuff, but please bitches, don’t expect to see my abs through my cotton shirt and under vest – they don’t show like that. You can’t look at somebody and just “detect abs” either. My posture is bad and I’m trying to fix it so I admit, my chest does look a bit concave but if I were greased down and shiny all the time (like in my pictures), I don’t think I’d be very popular at social functions now would I? As for my height, I’m no Shaquille O’Neal but I am an average male. I’m 17 people, not 35. I can only grow so much at a time, I’m not an adult yet and I’m already the average height of a man – I’ll get taller, don’t worry, it’s in my family. Oh, and you bitches who are 4’11”, breaking your back to see past my zipper and then saying “oh gosh boy, you real short!” – you’re just looking for company. For you bitches who are 6’7” and folding in half or looking under your Tobago sized feet to find me – you need to lose your testicles and stay off the ‘roids.
What you see in the pictures is what you get in real life. I’m not the sad nerd who’ll put his head on Arnold’s body and say “Oh yeah, that’s me!” – Relax, it’s all there.
Case Study No. 2:
Remember when I said that saying “no offence” before you insult somebody to ease the blow doesn’t cut it? Here’s what I mean:
A girl would tell you “No offence eh, but your hands remind me of monkey feet… I’m quite fond of monkeys…” That’s all well and good, but when you extract the essence of the compliment, it actually says that your hands look like monkey’s feet – that’s not cool. How’s a person not supposed to take offence to that? Here’s the same compliment, but taken to the extreme:
“No offence eh, but you face reminds me of my ass. I find my ass is just gorgeous and I think you look like it.” Compliment in essence: ass face!
“No offence” does not cut it. If you think you need to say that before telling somebody something, don’t say it at all.
Case Study No. 3:
You and your morbidly obese friend are sitting having a drink at a restaurant. You go to the bathroom to use the scale and find that you put on two or three pounds. You come back to the table and the topic of weight comes up. You look at you friend ad say “Oh my gosh, I’m getting so fat! I mean, just look at this…” at this point you reach under your blouse to pull on the two ounces of fat lining your stomach walls to show it off. A disgusted look is on your face and you’re looking at your friend whose eyes are buried under her eyebrow fat, has a nearly infinitely recursive array of chins, tits the size of your torso and a leg so wide it blocks traffic. How do you think this person is feeling right now as she desperately jitters for the menu to call the waiter whom she hopes by share miracle will bring on a change of topic? Basically what you’re lining up your friend to say is “So what are you gonna say about me then?” Worse yet if you’re in a group and you’re pointing out the one vanity pound in your waist – everybody looks at you then looks at your friend, the obvious thing to say is on everybody’s lips but nobody says it. This is what I like to call loud silence.
Come on people, think of your worst feature, something about your physical self that you wish you could change then think of you on a stage – the spotlight is on you and everybody’s pointing and laughing at that one feature that you wish nobody would notice. If you’re looking down at the keyboard and having a deep thought then give yourself a pat on the back, if not then eat shit!
I’m not a pussy boy who cries to his mom every time somebody tells me something rude, but I must admit that I do take a lot of shit from people. Take today for example:
I come home to my grandmother’s house after climbing the nearly acute La Puerta hill and escaping the searing clutches of the outside sun; I’m as tired as a runaway slave and just as hungry. I eat half of my rations and put the other half down to go and watch a small parade outside. I come back after two minutes and my aunt’s scraping my fuckin’ plate man! That was not cool! And worse yet, she’s making those ridiculous sounds that the Sims make when they’re eating. I just stood there, demanded no compensation (even though she offered) and let the gas from the Coca-Cola fill the empty space in my stomach.
That was the breaking-point that led to the creation of this blog entry. Like Boys 2 Girls – I’ve had enough.
I am now faced with a crucial decision: do I allow the world to taint my pleasant nature and become a profanity spewing hurt machine that thrives on vengeance and the metaphysical breakdown of others? Or do I continue along my path of tolerance and hope that other people take a page from my book and learn that different people react differently to certain things? Well my name ain’t Ghandi, so the second option’s out… lol jk – I’ll think about it.
And this concludes this session of Etiquette 101.
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