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.


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.


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".


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.


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!


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

Everybody 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.

Thursday, March 08, 2007


As the title may have suggested to you, there's nothing really interesting about this entry - just a little check-up to pass the time until something good starts on TV. So how would I describe today? It was... myeah... a little interesting yet overly regular, like watching a fast forwarded video of water turning to ice. Well I got up this morning (late) and did a little carbon copying with my physics assignment - so much copying that i didn't care what the numbers meant after a while, all that mattered was getting to the next line (Thanks D., you saved my skin from the dreaded zero mark.) Now don't look to wag that shame finger at me, I know what I'm doing... copying :P

By about half past nine the assignment was done and I spent the next 15 minutes looking for a GTA Vice City Stories NTSC torrent. While doing that though, I felt common sense and it's distant cousin, academia, tapping me on my shoulder and whisp
ering their beings into my ear, so I picked up the phone and phoned my College Correspondent to find out what time classes were starting. She said that the lecturer just walked in. I peeled myself off of my computer chair, did the normal cleansing routine and dressed for school.

While slipping into my new ridiculously comfortable underwear, I noticed one of my favorite shows - Brainiac - going on, so I stopped to watched and learn that the world's greatest dart player is eight times better than the average one... fascinating (Keep in mind that this is 20 mins past 10 - class started 20 mins ago).

Feeling contented with my new found knowledge, I rushed down the street to get a taxi. Within rwo minutes, my ass was half immersed in the sewage leak that is this country's public transportation system. The ride was
normal, but the music was awful! It was so bad that when I reached my destination, I felt like I was paying the driver to let me out rather than rewarding him for his service. While traversing to the Wrightson Rd. taxi stand, I caught a glimpse of the sexier side of the country's labor force who were rooted in the same quagmire of tardiness as I was - thank goodness for dysfunctional alarm clocks and black laziness...

So I'm on my next taxi stand and gettin a taxi, again, was easy enough except for one little twist. Now this is something that is so strange, yet so ordinary; so coincidental that the circumstance had to be the bastard child of fate and probability; so shocking that I went through all the stages of emotional and physical shock and reverted to my normal state within seconds - I saw my girldfriend's mom! DUN DUN DUN!!! (OK maybe that was a little too much hype and
yes, the lady does live in the country and in the vicinity but it really was a shocker for me). Ok so being the gentleman that I am, I held the door for her and let her get in. I sat next to her and exchanged regular greetings, but I know that this was going to be one long-ass ride. N.M.B. (NOTA MUY BIEN!!) I have nothing against this woman and I don't *think* that she has anything against me but just the other day, me and her daughter (my girlfriend) had an argument on a RATHER touchy topic and it happened to reach into the supreme court of her motherly council. What the actual issue is i'm too ashamed to say on such a public medium but I can emphasize the sensitivity of the matter - think salt on an open wound...

So we're in the car, her expression - Italian nun, mine - dog on a busy highway. She's sitting right next to me and I can sense a great disturbance in the atmosphere, something eerie and more deadly than the fumes from the Semi driving alongside. I did try to speak to her, make "taxi conversation" to pass the time we'll be spending in the bumper to bumper traffic, but every string of words that came out of my mouth was a sentence more incoherent and further disjointed from the last - I felt like I was in the lion's den with Daniel, but there was only one lion, Da
niel used the emergency exit and God was listening to the latest Kirk Franklin album on his iPod - in other words, screwed.

My eyes twitched nervously in their sockets ans I tried to fish out conversation topics from the panning scenery but the best that I could come up with was asking questions about stuff I really should be knowing as a citizen of Trinidad, but didn't care about. I'm sure she was probably normal and shoving me through the window was the furthest thing from her mind but paranoia is what keeps negros alive. I played my cards right and found sick comfort in the uncomfortable silence until she reached her destination and got out. So, I lived.

School was as you would expect. I did reach late for the class, but all I seemed to miss was a digram and about two paragraphs of notes; I did make it up in the second hour though. What was strange and somewhat
disheartening was that all the female teachers seemed a little cold today, especially the one that i'm interested in. Her responses seemed hollow and tormented... was it because she saw my status on Hi5? It can't be! My ex-computer teacher however, seemed to be in one of her usual bad moods, no harm no foul. I took her down-in-the-throat greetings and just threw them into my bin of Never Mind. Had some lunch, had some laughs, did some work - that was school.

Sorry guys, the trip home was pretty average.

When I got home though, the day was middle aged, so I took the time to sit and reflect. I came up with this saying: "When times get you down, beating yourself up won't get you back up"


Saturday, March 03, 2007

What's Been Happening

According to the Max Payne Independent Movie Blog - I'm no Vista... I'm not even so much of a critical security update, I'm more like a system check to make sure everything's running just fine (There's a little love to my Windows geeks out there ;). This "system check" would run a lot smoother, however, if that bitch next door would do me the favour of slitting her throat and gutting out her own cursed vocal cords. I have never heard such bad singing since... I honestly can't remember! The song this lost Siren sister laments is like a haunting from the house of pain. I don't want to go outside and boisterously voice my humble "constructive criticism" because it is a religious song and all are entitled to praise The Lord in any way the deem fit, but I do know a certain bucket of water who holds no qualms about ridding himself of his splashy liquid content by inverting himself over all those who offend him. He's kind of short so I might have to give him a hand ;) The random compilation of notes could very well be my sanity's requiem.

From here on, I could go on about the trouble I got into last week with my late registration, how me and my mom are not on speaking terms at the moment and all that other negative emotional baggage that I'm carrying, but I think I'll spend it by weirding out my audience by what I'm seeing right now.

Have you ever noticed the sky? I mean really looked at it? It's always there - relaxing in a hammock of indefinite suspension, unable to be reached by anyone who was daring enough to try. It just exists for the purpose of existing, changing colors without a care, never trying to hold on to it's last celestial paint job and never unwilling to receive another.

During the early hours of the day, it's eye is wide, it's body is hot like an adrenaline addict who exerts himself until the velocity of his blood tears his veins and his heart desperately pumps battery acid. It's blue youth radiates its energy - a shower of vibrancy never ending. A shower that drenches those lucky enough to receive it, dissolving their chains of fatigue.

As the shower comes to an end and it's last drops reluctantly tear themselves away from the rims of their reservoirs, the sky begins to die. We bleed it of it's youth and energy.

As the sky lies on it's death bed, twilight crawls across it's body like a devious cancer drowning it's light. The amalgamated colors of sunset lose their vibrancy and they camouflage into their black backdrop, slowly but surely, like a student in a new school trying to get lost in the crowd.

It continues to die as our eyes seamlessly convert to the most sensitive of heat detectors. We gaze above and see nothing but the cold, dead thermal readings of a massive body that once diligently looked over us. A monochromatic symphony of completion, transformation... praise.

Now, the sky hangs there - It's skin as black as death, with pores teeming with the last of its heat still trapped within their shallow vallies. The moon's brightness attempts to spoil our eyes as the clouds converge over us, like a parent shielding its children from the sight of death - hiding the living example of how the mighty have fallen. We turn away from the tragedy and retreat to the loving, comforting arms of rest while we mourn subconsciously and wait for the hour until we see the sky's bright young face again.

MMMMMM... Trippy!... I love being high....