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Monthly Archives: March 2009

There are beggars everywhere in NYC.  Don’t get me wrong, I am not hatin on beggars and I understand how hard it is for bums to get a job.  I am just annoyed that every time I get asked for change, I glance into their eyes and its game over man.

The paradox of being a bum is that they get lonely because people refuse to acknowledge their existence, but at the same time, the people who meet their desperate gaze or stops to listen end up being harassed for donations.  If you do give money, you are worsened off economically and you end up having mixed feelings because you could potentially be sponsoring an existing drug habit.  If you don’t give them money and you ignore them, you feel guilty for being a terrible person.  No matter the outcome of this encounter, Pareto optimality cannot be achieved.


I thought I had the perfect solution…until tonight.  I was waiting to buy a train ticket at Penn Station when a bum comes up to me and says:

“Excuse me, can I have 50 cents?”

So being the clever guy that I am, I countered with:

“Um NO, can I have 50 cents?”

He then opens his palm to reveal roughly $1.36 in change and takes out 2 quarters and places them in my hand.

My heart just melts.  I give him back his change and give him a dollar.  You win this round bum.

I guess its back to the old avoiding eye contact and shamefully staring straight ahead into space until I can think of something better.

any suggestions?


I have been called a creeper on many an occasion.  Nothing good can come of being called a creeper, all it brings is death and destruction.  Okay so maybe it’s not all that dramatic but it still puts a solid dent in any reputation.  With that being said, I wrote this to increase awareness of this hazardous notion.

The Creeper.

Other than containing similarities to the stalker, not much is known about the origins of this social/asocial creature.   Characteristics of the creeper include (but are not limited to) lurking in the shadowy background of group photographs, smiling perversely, undesired touching, talking aggressively, and undressing girls with their eyes from afar.

Guys, this is a label you want to avoid at all costs for it will slaughter any chance you may have at finding a potential mate.  If one girl deems you to be “creeper status,” you should immediately burn all bridges.  This news will spread amongst her friends like the bubonic plague in ancient Egypt.

It must be noted, however; that despite having earned creeper status, there is small chance of salvation.  This is totally independent of your merit but relies more on one member of the girl’s social circle speaking out and saying to the extent, “I don’t know, he seems kind of cute…” These magical words are your only saving grace.  Upon you, a different light is revealed, ultimately challenging the initial girl’s perspectives.

“How do I avoid creeper status?”

This transcendental question has long been pondered since the existence of the mommy and daddy dance.  The bottom line is, You can’t. If how you act garners creeper status, it is only because the girl finds you unattractive and your unwarranted advances “creep” her out.


See if you can spot the creeper in this photo.

I don’t know what it is, but recently I have only been able to woo with girls with um “less-than-perfect” English skills.  The inherent language barrier is only the beginning of my quandaries.  You’re probably thinking, “That’s okay, as long as they’re hot.” While I possessed similar initial views, even my extraordinary level of superficiality and shallowness cannot overcome many cultural issues of the FOB.

I am no good at singing but I don’t mind doing it…drunk.  For some strange reason, FOBs love to karaoke despite their outright shyness and extreme modesty.  I find this very contradictory since I feel conversation with a stranger is far easier than serenading them through the art of song.

Weed.  Among FOB girls, there is an immense stigma attached to smoking marijuana.  Now I’ve been to Asia before (specifically Shanghai and Taiwan) and the people there smoke cigarettes non-stop which is fine and dandy while smoking weed is considered a sin.  I understand that this stigma is influenced largely from the laws and parenting in Asia.  I was led to believe that marijuana was grown in hell and its use is comparable to giving a reach-around to the devil while he unleashes in your face, presenting you with a burning sensation like acid on a rusty knife wound.  (That’s how my parents explained it to me, your experiences may differ).  I soon got over it in college and let me tell you, hell is overrated.

I have yet to meet a FOB girl that doesn’t have an annoying whimper resembling a stray chi hua hua.  I don’t know if they are trying to act cute or what but it just pisses me off.  It also makes me feel weird when we are being intimate.  It’s like getting with a child and I’m just not into that shizz despite my questionable morality.


Please Please Please stop taking pictures of yourself.  You may be really hot, but it is extremely narcissistic when the first 50 pictures you have on facebook are of yourself by yourself.

First year in the Big Dance.  First round Duke.  First time I felt any sense of pride in my school.

I have lost all semblance of respect for the Bearcats.  Duke won by 24 points, so not only did they lose to the spread costing me 20 bucks, but at the same time embarrassed themselves on national TV.  Way to go Binghamton.  Yea I understand they were nervous, who wouldn’t be?  Nervousness should not be an excuse to bend over and spread them cheeks.  Binghamton’s little spoon performance was so terrible they decided to switch to the VCU/UCLA game after the first 5 minutes.  Not only did the Bearcats play horrible defense, but they caught passes with the grace of Lenny trying to pet a bunny.


To all those Bing alumni that think “oh 24 points isn’t bad, the spread was 21 so really they lost by 3. I only have one thing to say to that.  FOR SHAME.

Any game where a team wins by double digits is pretty much considered a blowout, but 24!?!?!  That is called losing your anal virginity.  My plan to drink until I was able to convince myself that Binghamton had won, backfired.  All that resulted from this scheme was Coach Mike Krzysomethingski  started to look like bizarro Steve Carell and for some strange reason the Duke cheerleaders insisted on keeping their clothes on… (what was that about?)


My head hurts.

First year in the Big Dance.  First round Duke.  First time I felt any sense of pride in my school.


18:1 odds. 21 point spread.  any takers?

I was first introduced to “Comicon” by a friend of my cousin who lives in Toronto.  Basically, it is a trade show where all the die-hard fans of various comics and anime go to see several exhibitions and also offers artists and writers a chance to showcase their material.  When I was offered a chance to go to one in Toronto three years ago, I turned it down because my initial feelings about comicon were “Wow, this is a place where all the nerds dress up as their favorite superhero/villain, lame.”

After recently stumbling upon this image:


and this image:


“Wow, this is a place where all the nerds dress up as their favorite superhero/villain, HAWT.”

It was around that moment when I realized that Comicon would be something I would like to be a participant of in the near future.  It was also around that same moment when Mr. Happy became really really happy.  Yeah…

Since my purchase of the ps3, I have been desperately searching for validation through exclusive games only available to Sony.  Receiving numerous awards and a slew of near-perfect reviews, I came to the conclusion that Little Big Planet was one of those titles that will justify my purchase.



I will say this, this game is completely innovative and deserves “mad props” for its creativity and concept. The idea of a large community of players designing and creating their own levels, customizing their characters, and sharing it with the rest of the world sounds glorious in theory.  The customization of your character is really cool, but it’s solely for aesthetic purposes.  The idea of a whole community of players creating levels, sharing feedback, garnering reviews and ratings based on their stage all sounds amazing, but people are lazy.  Creating a level demands some basic understanding of the functions of the stage creation features, which many people just don’t take the time to learn.

However, its actual gameplay is lacking in depth. It is a simple platform game where the goal is the reach the end through a combination of running, jumping, and grabbing.  Soon the stages get repetitive and you’ll find yourself performing the same actions while you run around and collect stuff.

The controls are clumsy even though there are only 2 buttons that have any functional value.  Jump and grab. Moving in between foreground and background is a hassle and the jump function is inconsistent.  Imprecise controls are extremely frustrating especially in a platform game.

This game is great for kids under the age of 12 who have all the time in the world to mess around and build intricate stages.  As for me, it is a little too kiddie for my taste.  Perhaps I have lost my “inner child.”

After work, I went to happy hour at Dave and Busters which combines 2 of my favorite things and puts them in the same place.

Unfortunately I did not get to play a single video game because apparently me and my friends spent 3 hours drinking and playing the “most likely to…” game.  I pitched my idea to play a racing game intoxicated so that we could experience drunk driving without the risk of a DUI.

I decided to forego my dinner and go to other bars downtown.  Big mistake in retrospect.  Today my head felt like an angry Donkey Kong trying to escape a small cubicle.

RPGs are way more fun when you pick up extra party members and drunken adventures are no different.  A marine medic from Serbia and his sister spontaneously decided to tag along and get drunk with us.  At the bar, I took a bite out of a suspicious sandwich which happened to belong to one the staff members.  In response to this, the bartender laughed his ass off and decided to give me and my friends free sandwiches.  I was deliciously grateful.

Other “randies” include: a crazy old man who filmed 2 documentaries but was too ashamed of them to reveal their titles, a tall and flirtatious girl from Cali with a gargantuan brother (“I’m gonna be over there NOT hitting on your sister”), and a short dude who happened to be the singer from an independent band called cloud 9 insisted on getting my number.  Weird.

Every year only one “holiday” recognizes extreme inebriation as a virtue. The color green (my favorite) is obnoxiously hip-thrusted into your face as people get up as early as 10 am to enjoy a nice helping of Vodka for breakfast.  Sounds like my kind of day.  My past St. Patrick’s Day celebrations have been much too tame as I always end up puking too early or had a test or paper to write the day of or the day before.  Some of my friends have neglected their test(s) and/or essay(s) in tribute to this glorious day.  I, however, did not have the stones to support these types of decisions.

This year will be different.  I am going to go apeshit, no holds bar, unadulterated, and most importantly blackout drunk.  How? you may ask.  Well the answer is simple, wake up with a hearty breakfast of beer and have some delicious beer for dessert.  This formula is foolproof.

This year is gonna be my breakout year, my “coming of drunken age.”  Hopefully there will be some interesting stories that arise from this sloppy affair.  I may even hook up with “the coveted” hot white girl.  o.O

drinkbeer9 +   clover_071 =         7

Dear Liver,

I’m sorry for the ensuing pain.  Please do not fail.



Darron Aronofsky’s The Wrestler was painfully depressing but one of the most beautiful and touching films.  As with any Aronofsky film, the shots were meaningful and authentic, however I felt a hole in my chest from the sadness.  To cheer myself up I tried to watch Tommy Boy with Chris Farley only to draw the parallel between his career of drug abuse and low self-esteem and Rourke’s Randy “The Ram” Robinson.  Both lived in the spotlight of shallow entertainment and hollow admiration.

**Spoiler Warning**

Assuming you have seen the film, The Ram’s decision to perform (a.k.a. kill himself) in his last match was in actuality, a cop out.  Yes his life sucked, yes he had nowhere to go, but Marisa Tomei (so hot) still had faith in him and he just gave in.  Sure he died gloriously in a ring where he was loved, but that love was superficial.  He had a legitimate shot with Cassidy (Tomei), and he forsake her for his own selfish desires.  Now I’m not saying you should give up everything for a girl or anything, but he did not give real life a chance.  Instead of adapting to the contingent world, which Cassidy was able to do, he crawled back inside his fantasy land.

Which brings up the timeless question is it better to burn out than fade away?

I'd give it up for her