KARS !!

One of the things that annoys me most is people who make their cars look really fucking stupid. You know, things like neon lights, fire that shoots out the tailpipe, a DVD player, a volleyball court, a dog kennel, a strip club, an aquarium, a speedboat. So you watched too much of The Fast & the Furious. Save us the embarasment, get a gaming console.. strap on the spoilers and nitrate. NFS now even has something called the "House of Kolor" where they show you how to paint your car in an obnoxious color.

Whatever the title was, the words were supposed to be spelled with the letter "C". Apparently, whoever was involved in the creative process for this was like, "You know what? The letter 'C' is so fucking gay. Let's man this shit up with a 'K'. Yeah, Kolor with a 'K'. When people see this, they will know not to fuk with us. when I say the word 'fuk', I'm not inkluding the letter 'C'. From this point forward, all words kontaining the letter 'C' will either be removed or replaked with a 'K'. When I get an opportunity, I will kompile a komplete list of kweer letters. Ok I think its supposed to be spelt with a 'Q'.

I hate when things are spelled wrong, which is why I urge you to tell me when you see a typo.

PRINGLES

Pringles always seem like such a good idea when you first start eating them. I start wishing that everything was made out of Pringles. Like my house. Then I could eat my house and go outside to where there are more Pringles to fix my house with. Then I'll go eat my neighbor's car, and play all innocent when he asks me if I ate his car. Eventually I'll cave in and tell him that Pringles are so good, and his car looked so good I couldn't help myself. He'll say, That's okay Glenn. Then he'd invite me inside his house where we'd eat some more Pringles.

But that fantasy is always short lived, because after a few minutes of eating Pringles, I start to feel sick. so I tell myself to stop eating the Pringles. That will make me feel better. but I only proceed to feel worse, even though I have ceased eating the Pringles.

I saw a guy get hit by a car yesterday. He was on roller blades and couldn't stop. The pedestrian light had turned red, but he was thinking green. He tried to get the attention of the traffic crossing by going, "WHOA WHOA WHOA WHOA!" Not quite as effective as a siren. Obviously the guy in the car did not hear him. He saw him at the last minute and bumped the guy. Roller blading guy had a pretty bruise on his leg.

He got up and made a hand gesture towards the guy in the car like a "Forget you" kind of motion. The driver looked at me and was like, "What could I have done?" I just kind of chuckled and shrugged. Then the roller blader got hit by a bus.

That's a lie, but it's what everyone was secretly rooting for. Well, not secretly. Everyone yelled in unison, "We hope a bus hits you!"

That's not true either. Sorry.

I have a fear of a few things. One of them is being stranded in the ocean and the other is accidentally killing someone with my car. I would hate that. If you accidentally kill someone with a gun, you can just be like, "Well, no more guns for me." You can avoid them, but it's hard to avoid cars.

Anybody out there really like pepper ?

So I got home from work this evening and decided to cook me up some Cheesy Macaroni Chili. I have made chili about five times since I've had it, so I pretty much know the recipe. Once I added in everything, I get to the spices. I grab the ground pepper and the chili powder. Two teaspoons of chili powder and a quarter teaspoon of pepper. So I take the chili powder and put in two teaspoons. Then I grab the pepper and realize it's the chili powder. I just put two teaspoons of ****in' pepper in my chili. I will know how it tastes in nine to eleven hours.

Anyway, if you really like pepper, party at my house.

I think the only pets that people should have are pets that can catch a frisbee. Ideally in their mouths. So a dog is the pinnacle of pets and, say, an ant sucks. A frisbee just couldn't fit in the ant's mouth. I'm not even sure that they really have mouths.

I am a bad person. I did something terrible last night. I found a golf ball in a drawer and was rolling it around. That was when I saw an ant on the counter, which is a pretty odd thing to see in my apartment. Anyhow, you know that scene in Indiana Jones with the boulder rolling after him? Well, I decided to re-create some movie magic and roll the golf ball at the ant. Problem is I think the guy was sick or tired or something because there was no incredible chase scene, no cute little run, just the wet smoosh of the ant dying senselessly. I felt pretty terrible, so I walked out to my balcony and buried it in my cactus vase, with a little piece of watermelon because I know they like that.

Nothing Changes

My posts have suffered over the past weeks. I haven’t had the time to write. Im so lost in my routine, I don't see that I've progressed all that much. I still struggle with everyday life, am broken down by the seemingly simple and get frustrated at that which does not matter. I have ascended no higher plain, accomplished no lofty goal, finalized nothing. The older I get, it seems, the more aware I become of how little I advance as an adult. My circumstances differ every day, but the obstacles I face and the arguments I have seem to be one and the same, just turned to a different facet so that they look new, but only until you take a step back.. and everythings the same !! Nothing Changes !!

BAD DREAM.

I've not had dreams in a very long time. Maybe i just sleep too well. Last night however i had a wierd dream. In my dream..

I had just finished with dinner and was at my favourite part of the meal. Pudding!! I was about to eat some pudding when I'm not sure how I knew, but I could tell the pudding was quite unhappy about being eaten. I get up from the table to get myself a spoon. But before i get back some cosmic rays or something hit the pudding and it becomes a pudding monster. When i got back to the dining table the pudding monster shouted "I'M PUDDING YOU TO DEATH" (yes even my dreams are filled with bad puns) and then it jumped on me. Why can't I have dreams about flying like everybody else?

The truth, I strongly suspect, is that love is a bit of a twee (maybe even sad) little illusion, a happy story that we tell ourselves to pretend that even if everything isn't all right now, it will be in the future. Maybe. If we hope desperately enough.

We're not talking agape here.

Sometimes, you wonder…what's the fucking point? Why even bother? Does it actually even mean anything?

Nope.

Good night.

I HATE WRAPPING GIFTS

Call me a moron, but I cannot for the life of me figure out the proper way to wrap a gift. I have a cousin who can wrap a gift with her eyes closed and her hands chopped off because she's a girl and girls were born to do stuff like that. I could have a gift wrapping manual and a team of trainers guiding me through the process and the finished product will still look like something Santa threw up after a night of binge drinking and coke snorting.

Tell me if this sounds familiar -- when you finish wrapping the gift there's either too much paper or not enough. You always use way too much tape. You always put the bow in the spot that looks the most fucked up. At least one person makes fun of your horrible wrapping skills. Is this you? It sure as hell is me.

I wish all gifts could be "close your eyes" gifts. You know? Like, we don't have to wrap them, we just tell the other person to close their eyes and give it them. This way there's not some pile of wrapping paper to clean up and I don't have to look like a moron each time with my pathetic wrapping.

To the nice guys that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, to those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores.

This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is not fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.

This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated on the PS2 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.

The only conclusion I can form is that many (I say many, Not all) girls are just illogical & manipulative. They claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of dateable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.

So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.

- This rant was published on the wharton undergrad Journal

ARIEL

"Hello" I mumbled, barely awake.

"Hey !!" It was a girl's voice.

"Yes?" I replied, checking my watch for the time. God, it’s 3:00 am!

"Are you ready?" she whispered

"No," I whispered back, a little confused about what I was supposed to be ready for. "Who is this?"

"Ariel. Are you still asleep?”

"girl, it's three in the morning. Do I know you?"

“Who is this?” she shot back.

“Glenn!!”

“Glenn???? Hi.. I'm so sorry. I think I got the wrong number."

A little irritated, I nonetheless managed to fall asleep again as soon as I put the phone down. The next morning, I vaguely remembered the phone-call, but wondered if I had been dreaming. I checked my pda and there had indeed been a call at three in the morning. I thought about it. Even in my sleep, the voice had sounded nice.

That night, I felt the need to play a prank. So I set the alarm for three the next morning, and went to sleep. At three, I woke up and dialed the number that my phone had dutifully recorded in the call log.

A sleepy voice picked up the phone. “Yes?” she said.

"Ariel?" I tried not to laugh.

"Yes?" She sounded sleepier than I must have been the previous night.

"You ready?"

"Ready for what?" She seemed to be crawling her way to consciousness.

“Who is this ?” she mumbled. “Glenn”

"sweet revenge” I whispered back.

"My dad was supposed to be flying back in from Canada last night, My cousin was supposed to accompany me & mom to the airport." she said. there were more apologies.

At this point I ran out of things to say, so I said sorry and hung up.
The next day, at 3:00am, she called again.

"Hello?" I had been asleep, but from the moment I opened my eyes, I knew it would be her.

"Glenn? Ariel here."

"Hi Ariel."

"what are you doing?"

"waking up" I replied.

"Well I just wanted to say Good Night." I could almost see the grin on her face.

"Good night !" I said cheerfully

Last night she called again, but at 10:00 pm

"You're early" I said.

"Yes," she replied. "I have an early day tomorrow. So I thought we could have this conversation now instead of at three."

"Smart move."

"I know. Hey, what are you doing around six tomorrow evening?" she asked me.

I knew there was another question coming up as soon as i answered this one. I just didnt wanna know what it would be so...

"I'll be collecting my kids from school. What about you?" I asked her

Im sure her heart skipped a beat. For a few seconds she didn't even breathe.

"Hello?" i said, to check if she was still on the phone.

Im surprised she could’nt tell how hard i was trying to suppress a laugh.

“Hellooooo???” there was no reply. there was a click on the other end of the phone and theres been no word from Ariel since !!



For all those who dont know, im not married and definitely dont have kids !!

Writing a blog in a lot of ways, is like a marriage.

Why?

Well, here goes...

When you get married, for the first few months there's lots and lots of sex. (All right, I confess, I'm not married yet, and so maybe I'm wrong about this. But there's no harm in hoping for the best.)

Anyway, When you first begin blogging, there's the urge to blog a lot. Everyday. Sometimes, more than once a day. Sometimes all you can think of, is to write another post. Soon, though, the sex (and the thrill of blogging) becomes one of those "Been there, done that" things.

So you reduce the frequency at which you do it. In some time, it drops to once or twice a week. Sometimes you go a whole week or two without it.
Then sometimes you get in the mood and do it multiple times a week again.

But whatever you do, the initial period of bliss, is only a memory.

MY CAR

Mom called to tell me some thugs stole two parts off of my car the other day. If I was going to steal a part, I would think this would be a part way down on the list. I don't even know what they'd be called. It runs below the door from the front tire to the back tire. A runner, maybe? I don't know. They stole it from both sides. It's just a strip of whatever it is cars are made out of these days. I hope these guys don't plan on stealing my car a couple of pieces at a time. "Hmmm, that's odd. I could have sworn I had more than three tires the last time i saw it. And I'm almost positive I had doors. Yes, I definitely had doors."

IMAGINE THAT !!

Assume you live on the 10th floor of a 15 story building. Also assume your Dads sister’s just come to Dubai for a holiday and she’s visiting. Lets also assume she’s invited for dinner and she wants to see your cactus collection. So she sneaks out to the balcony and has a look at the cacti whilst your not with her!! She sees something that could only have fallen from one of the apartments above.

What could be the worst thing that someone upstairs would throw out of their window that you could get blamed for? Chocolate wraps ? Ice cream scoops (im banned from icecreams)? Cigarette butts? Lets assume cigarette butt !! she sees the cigarette butts on the floor.. freaks out!! comes running indoors, yells at me!! “im gonna tell dad about this !!”. Poor me !!

Now If your thinking it was bad she found cigarette butts, She didnt find any cigarette butts.... she found contraceptive wrappers!!

Last night Im going up to my apartment and Im waiting for the elevator to come by and theres this very cute looking girl waiting along too, fumbling through her bag for something. when suddenly she said “Hi”, so I look at her and smile.

“Is it 9:30 yet?” she asks me. I look at my watch and tell her its 5 minutes past. And she gets back to the fumbling. We both enter the elevator and thump the buttons for our respective floors. So like any normal elevator passenger I look up at the floor display LCD, the roof, the railings, trying to avoid looking at what my co-passenger's doing. When suddenly..

“ Whats your flat number? ”

I turn to look at her not sure if I heard what I heard. and she smiles at me. I just pretend to ignore the question.

Call me anything you want but that’s the weirdest line to start a conversation with a stranger. If you ever wanna break the ice don’t start with that !

“ Hellooo ”

so I look at her again.

“Are you done with dinner?” she asks

“Umm Me”

“can we go out and grab a bite to eat?” she asks.

“No! Im busy, I got a few errands to run” I tell her

She gives me a weird look !! Im thinking to myself She’s so cute, I wish it didn’t start out this way. I reach my floor and im stepping out of the elevator when she says..

“there was this cute guy with me in the lift, but he was so creepy & wierd..... !”

Taken aback I turn to look at her and shes standing there talking to someone on her freaking handsfree !!!

These hands-free cell phones are officially freaking me out. In the car it's good. on the street, in the elevator not so good !! Glad I got out of there before that conversation got any further.

The One Where I Lose An Entire Post And Then Bitch About It

Man, I hate this stupid 'publish post' button. I really do. I really really hate the damn thing so much that hate stopped being just another word and transformed into this creature that lives inside me and decides to come out every time something horrible happens to me so it can just smile and wave the finger.

I just wrote this whole long awesome post and then published it and then went to view it and it was gone. Yes, the asshole that I am decided to view the blog without properly republishing, thus losing all of the post.

And I'm not typing the entire thing again because this computer would wind up with a hole in it by the end of tonight. Is there some kind of support group for bloggers that lose posts after spending a stupid amount of time thinking them up and typing them down?

Because if there is, then sign me up.

I need a hug.

THE END OF SUMMER.

I remember that day clearly. The day Summer and I broke up for good. As I sat on the bed in my room, I popped a kind of something in order to get me through the morning without feeling sad. it was all coming to an end and I had to go back to class again.

I knew it was time. Time to say goodbye. But Summer and I had so much history between the two of us; it made it near impossible to sum it all up in one sitting. I didn’t want to admit it and neither did Summer, but it had been over for a while now. Work had gotten in the way. As it always does. As it always will.

But it wasn’t always that way…

See, when you’re a kid, the equivalent to great sex is not having to go to school. That was Summer. My first orgasms, and they lasted for two months. No homework. No getting beaten up on the bus. No nasty math teachers. It was just us. Summer and I. And each year, somewhere in between Picnics and Summer camps, the family would pack their bags for our annual summer vacation.

Early on, during the honeymoon phase of our relationship, summer vacations rocked. And then I made a new best friend. A friend that would, in fact, change my relationship with Summer forever. Lets call that friend ‘grown-up’.

‘grown-up’ was the exact opposite of me. He was from a bad neighborhood, he had a deep voice, a beard and thought about sex constantly. ‘Grown-up’ and I began to get along pretty well. We enjoyed each other’s company. Had a lot of the same interests. And after a few months, I figured it was finally time for me to introduce ‘grown-up’ to Summer.

That’s when it all went downhill. grown-up then brought me on to his friends.. work and responsibility. I began to spend time with work and slowly responsibility showed more of himself. There was no time for anything else. Summer came and went by a couple of times, I hardly even noticed summers presence. Then grown-up bought love into my life. Love, work and responsibility became everything for me. Then love and work began having problems but there was always more of responsibility no matter what. Finally things grew bad for work, he didn’t like me spending too much time with love and so decided to take me far away from love.

Now I spend my entire day with work and responsibility. But deep down I miss summer. I want all we had back. Many a times before I go to bed I think of the great times I had with summer and it makes me sad. I repent for having let ‘grown-up’ come into my life.

I still live with the hope that someday, in some corner of the world.. summer and I can catch up on everything we once shared in the good old days of my Life.