You asked for it... formspring.me

If you had to choose between being stuck on an island for the rest of your life with the "vallejo socialite" or being afflicted with forever raving syndrome from getting a flu shot, what form of suicide would you commit in order to avoid either situation?
simple and eloquent... death by Snoo-Snoo

if i was superman and you were lois lane, to what lengths would you go to find out the size of my ... tights?
if i were lois lane, i'd come to the conclusion that all men in tights are fags... yes, even YOU superman... even you.

have you ever taken a bath and stayed in the tub until all the water drained out?
yes, back when mother earth didn't give a fuck about that shit.

Guys or girls?
guys are hoes, girls are sluts; would prefer being around men and women most often.

Any juicy rumors?
besides knowing one of my friends have webbed feet? none thus far.

This one : That one :: Old one : New one

A long time ago, when family was important to me, an Aunt and Uncle of mine just so happened to swindle my Grandmother out of the deed to her own house. Without getting deep into it, time went by and the family had to sell the house to pay off the lawyers' fees. In the end, my Grandmother walks away empty handed and homeless.

A few months pass and we got in contact with one of my cousins, asking him where he lives. The word on the street was they were renting a house near my parents house.

"I can't tell you that," my cousin says shamefully.

We told our cousin whatever drama our parents have with each other, shouldn't be a reason for us to cast judgment on you. God forbid anyone judge me based on the shady things my parents have done... my mom is a bookie for fuck sake.

Which brings me to the ulam of my story: What makes a person measure someone's behavior with one yard stick, then measures another person's behavior with the same yard stick?

the observation
Over the past couple of years of singlehood, I've notice a trend in the behaviors of those around me. Whether we're talking, dating, getting to know each other, putting the fun in friendship, or even just enjoying each others company; there always comes a point where someone is compared to the "proverbial" ex. Either your significant other compares themselves to your "ex" or you are compared to their "ex". I'm pretty sure there are various other outcomes to this equation; however, in my case, it was the 'other' that did the comparing.

the comparison
Again, without getting too deep into it (and also not naming any names), the person I was seeing at the time kept comparing our relationship with that of 9 years. Although our time together was relatively brief --shorter than any of those relationships in the Tigergate scandal-- a substantial amount of time and energy was spent arguing the irrelevance between my relationship with my ex and my current relationship. For that reason alone, I always make it a point to not talk about an ex during the time I'm trying to get to know you.

(btw, if you use the term "Tigergate or Climategate" in the last 72 hours, you should be tarred, feathered, then have your body dragged in the middle of Tianamen Square and given a choice to either be shot or ran over by a tank.)

More recently, a friend of mine and I got into a simple debate about the appropriate length of time it takes to take a decent shower. For those of you who REALLY know me, knows that I like to ensure some type of bathing before, after, and sometimes during anything that involves some kind of high intensity sweating. In this case, (if you don't follow me on Twitter) I haven't taken a shower for 2 days since there was no hot water at my place. You Betcha By Golly Wow I wasn't livin' on the edge during those 48 hours.

Nonetheless, after much humiliation, I decided to give in and say I won't take long showers anymore... when I'm showering over there (in my defense I live alone and no one has ever complained how long my showers take). To be honest, I just wanted to acknowledge his concern and move on; however, catching on to my disinterest in the subject matter, he then says, "See! That's what [expletive] used to do and I HATE that. That's why I know it'll never workout between me and you."

SIDE NOTE:
Before continuing on, I just wanted to clarify the latter part of the quote didn't hurt as much as the former; but in the end, a judgment was made on me based on someone I've never met before. I guess that's what bothered me the most.

the conclusion
After thinking about this for a couple of days, I confronted my friend about his backhanded comment and he ironically pointed to a quote from his ex's Facebook page.

"you will blame a new love for something the old one did"

~From: Friend's Ex's Facebook Page's Facebook Status

Though we are not lovers by any means, the same principle was used to slap me in the face for a 4th time. I guess I'll never understand why, as humans, we do what we do. What is it about our culture why we reference significant things to us based on other things that are not?

If we go on the supposition that we are a reflection of our loved ones, then we support the basic anthropological human expression, "we are attracted to things that remind us of ourselves."

"Separate evolution of the self isn’t as pronounced in homosexual relationships."

~From: Loving the "I" in "we"

I guess what I'm trying to say is whether you're comparing this one to that one, or the old one to the new one; the moment you compare things to other things is the moment you lose significance in all things.

After writing this post I just wanted to put a disclaimer out there that this entry is completely based on just random thoughts and is not meant to hurt, defame, attack, nor ridicule anyone in particular… just random thoughts that are meant to be illustrative based on a few water-cooler conversations, chits and chats while shits and giggles, casual encounters (in the bathroom or otherwise stated), et aliae. And if by chance you feel a deeper connection with the content of this entry, which so happens to feel like guilt, then may the judge and the jury in this case, known as the good Lord, have at it…

Transits: Squares, Trines, and Sextiles

These past couple of years have never been so confusing.

.:Squares:.
After a record-breaking summer of death, a booming housing market, and the best volatile economy EVER; I topped off the charts with my streak in high-quantity/low-quality dating I've ever had. It's like my status has been smacked down by the Hand of God himself, which was the catalyst for my fall down the social ladder.

~The One~
After 9 years of ups and downs, The One makes a professional move to New York only for me to find out that he's been talking to someone else because "the body has needs."

~The Rebound~
Decided to work things out with his ex because the ex had the "It Factor". Ironically, him and his ex were repeat offenders and the "It Factor" became the "Ex Factor" once again.

~The Other One~
Insecure of The One's track record of 9 years, The Other One spent the next year trying to "prove himself" worthy after choosing his ex over me... twice.

~The Ottoman~
Had the suckiest phone service EVER. Apparently his phone calls you while he's fucking someone else.

.:Trines:.
It's been some time since I've discussed my unstable Daffy Duck state of mind on this thing, but that's only because my friends tell me that I'm fucking crazy for putting my business out there. I usually tell them, "it's better to put my business out there instead of putting yours...now go fuck yourselves..."

The truth is I haven't been the same since that incident with Ottoman and in fact that was probably the first time I've ever admitted to it. After weeks of living an unsocial reclusive lifestyle, Panelope convinced me to get my shit together cuz it's about time I need to take care of myself for a change.

“No man is worth your tears, but once you find one that is, he won't make you cry.”

Whatever douche bag came up with that quote is a fucking genius... but you're still a douche bag.

.:Sextiles:.
As if things couldn't get awkward enough with Pukang Kai and I lately. During one of my visits back home she told me she's been in contact with one of her childhood friends from El Salvador. She said during the war his family escaped and moved to Spain where he ended up becoming a doctor of medicine. She said she wants me to meet him when he visits the states over the Holidays.

As always, I'm not paying any attention to Pukangs as she continues to tell me about her friend.

"Wait, where do you want me to take him?" Thinking I was supposed to drive him around site seeing or something...

Pukangs replies, "He's REALLY cute... and the best part... he's gay."

"Oh..."

Awkward silence cloaks the room from any signs of reason or comfort.

Word to the wise: If you're thinking of playing matchmaker for one of your friends... don't.

The One wanted to know why I didn't want to meet the Doctor. It's simple... I'm not interested. And more importantly, I don't think The One has ANY say on what I do with my life anyways.

I told him that since I've spent the last couple of years striking out in relationships, I've decided to use my energy I would've put into a relationship into helping others who can't help themselves.

Below is a link to a session I had with a coworker of mine that moonlights as an astrologer. At the time, I had NO clue what she was talking about, but it all makes sense now; the near future holds Tequila and Puerto Rico.

Major's Moded Story (MMS) of the Day: Listen, Boy

...who the hell do you think you are?

So I was hang'n out with the Ilocanos at 3rd St Promenade this past weekend, and I didn't think anything of this next story until Grace and Glenda were crack'n up at the table. In fact, I'm sure you won't find this funny, unless you're Ilocano of some sort.

For those who have known me since childhood, knows that: 1.) I don't hang out with childhood friends anymore; and 2.) I've spent a majority of my 30-year adult life telling just about every Filipino I encounter that my family breaks the mold when it comes to having a Tita Baby and Tito Boy (i.e., that we don't have any in our family).

(I know... that latter is more exciting than the former, which is why I'll elaborate more on the topic.)

It never fails, I would say 95% of the Filipinos I've meet over the years have talked either succinctly or elaborated in detail about their particular family member(s) who, for whatever reason, want to nickname themselves Baby or Boy. I'm kind of unsure of the origin of the nickname, nor do I care; but one thing is for certain, it came from the Philippines.

For those who don't know what I'm talking about, Babies and Boys are usually those aunts and uncles who spent their 20s and 30s partying it up at night... kinda like the Scene. (x_X) Now, they're usually in their 40s and 50s and never married or they happened to marry wealthy and they became the "Auntie FUNcy" of the group.

I guess I should get to the point of my story.

[Listening to Daydreaming by Jill Scott]

During some time in the later part of June and early July, my dad and I had to attend a funeral for a cousin that recently passed away from pneumonia (may God rest his soul). If I had to describe my dad's side of the family, I'd say that side is very... stoic, probably because of the whole military "thing".

My dad, Jessie, and I arrive at the wake and we stood behind 2 of my uncles --uncle Condring, phonetically pronounced /KOON-dring/ (short for Conrado, I'm sure); and uncle George, the oldest of 7 sons and 2 daughters (and on his 7th wife, as I later found out).

Side note: My mom's side of the family see each other every week. In fact, I'm in a fantasy basketball league with 'dem fools this season; however, my dad's side doesn't see each other much. I'm not sure why. The only time we see each other is if someone passes or if someone get's married. The last time I saw this side of the family was summer of 2000 when my uncle Rudy took us water skiing.

Again... I digress.

As we stood behind my 2 uncles, my dad tells me he's pretty sure his brothers won't recognize him because he hasn't seen them in years. I think they won't recognize him because dad lost all that weight from the colon cancer early last year.

Nonetheless, as my dad taps Condring on the shoulder and says, "Hi Koon." (I dare not pedagogically correct my dad with the derogatory Korean term... he was stationed there.)

Just as my dad suspected, uncle Condring turns, stares, and begins to question, in the politest Ilocano manner, who we are. "Excuse, Sir, do we know you?"

My dad laughs as any militant dad would. Condring turns to George and asks him in Ilocano if he knew who we were. George, pushing 95 years of age, has a hard time seeing us since he can only see 3 feet in front of him (sorta like Kev 1.0 when he smokes out at the Ridge). Realizing George can't see or hear any of this, Condring asks my dad if we were friends with the family. (This is the best family reunion, yet.)

My dad reaches over and puts his hand on my back and introduces me, "This is my youngest son, Major."

An elderly woman gingerly leaps from her seat and says, "I know you! I used to babysit you." It's the biological mother of my cousin Patrick (the one who passed) --her name eludes me at the moment. "You used to come over the house. I used to babysit you."

The next 30 seconds changed my life... FOREVER.

My aunt then looks at Uncle Koon and says, "This is Major, the son of Jesus."

Now, as some of you read this, you're probably pronouncing that last name I threw out there like some Go-Go Boy from Latinboyz.com --aysoos, as in aysoosmariusep. Well, my friend, one can only wish she did. No, she said Jesus... pronounced "Christ our Living Savior".

"This is Jesus, your brother." she says to uncle Koon.

My heart races... "I thought your name is Jessie" I say to my dad.

George notices the excitement unfolding in front of him and inaudibly starts yelling in Ilocano. "Tucka, Tucka, Tucka, Tucka, Tucka..." (that's my best Ilocano impression).

Uncle Koon, then turns to George and explains, "This is Jesus. You know, Boy. This Boy!"

"WAIT WAIT WAIT!" Again, I look at my dad and ask, "You're BOY?!? YOU'RE TITO BOY?"

-----
I have to explain myself as I'm getting HIGH BLOOD as I type this. For those who didn't get any part of the story above, a 30-year old veil of lies has been lifted from my eyes. Not only did I just learn what my dad's real name is; I have been telling people for 30 years we don't have a Tito Boy in our family, when in reality, my dad, Jesus, has been the Tito Boy the whole time. This is probably the most extravagant Major's Moded Story of all time... OF ALL TIME!!!

I dedicate this MMS to Patrick Julian, loving father, son, brother, uncle, and husband. Miss you!

Sad, but respectfully understood.

Dear Friend:

It is with great regret I announce today that I am withdrawing from the race for governor of California. With a young family and responsibilities at city hall, I have found it impossible to commit the time required to complete this effort the way it needs to — and should be — done.

This is not an easy decision. But it is one made with the best intentions for my wife, my daughter, the residents of the city and county of San Francisco, and California Democrats.

When I embarked on this campaign in April, my goal was to engage thousands and thousands of Californians dedicated to reforming our broken system and bringing change to Sacramento.

I would like to thank those supporters, volunteers, and donors who have worked so hard on my behalf. I have been humbled by their support and am indebted to their efforts. They represent the spirit of change and determination essential to putting California back on the right track.

I will continue to fight for change and the causes and issues for which I care deeply — universal health care, a cleaner environment and a green economy for our families, better education for our children, and, of course, equal rights under the law for all citizens.
Sincerely,

Gavin Newsom

 Paid for by Newsom for California Committee - Governor 2010. FPPC #1308175

Major's Moded Story (MMS) of the Day: Guilty Pleasure

Ok... hopfully I can squeeze this one out before I pass out from exhaustion. So a couple of weeks ago it rained... like... hard. In fact it rained so hard you kinda felt like it was Typhoon Ondoy's cousin Pedro who came to visit unannounced; then asks to use the bathroom and pees on the seat.

Just so you have an idea of how hard it rained, the video below is a shot of our balcony at work (that's my friend Meeshi).




Yes... rain water was shooting out from the gutter like a bidet and we were 3 floors up.

Anyways, this MMS is not about Meeshi or the the person who flushed the toilet that backed up the drain; however, this MMS is about Miley Cyrus. That's right... the devil's offspring herself. Her being my guilty pleasure plays an integral part of the story.

I was introduced to this song a few weeks ago at Santa Clara University's Barrio Fiesta. There was a group of little kids --sibling ranging from 8 to 16 years of age-- and they performed this song that day. Amused by their performance I HAD to find out where the song was from.



Catchy, isn't it?

So, I was driving into work that one stormy morning and decided to listen to Elvis's sell-out come back of the Dog House on the new 92.7 KREV (I'm still mad at that, btw). I was about 45 minutes well into my commute passing the exit to City College off the 280 when "Party in the USA" came on. Naturally, I started singing along just before the chorus and the Jay-Z song was on... and the Jay-Z song was on!

GOD I LOVE THAT SONG!

And for the record, I would put my hands up at the time, but I started to hydroplane; as if God reached down and pushed my car into a fishtail frenzy and told me to shut the fuck up! Literally feeling the cool sucked out of me, I turned the radio off and drove the rest of the way to work in silence.

Not like anyone cares, but I wanted to dedicate this entry to Ms. Hannah Montana herself. I couldn't believe it when Kev 1.0 told me she had the H1N1 virus during lunch today. I almost died... not of swine flu though.

Letter to the President

Dear Mr. President,

As serendipitous as this may seem, earlier today my iPod was on shuffle and a familiar track came on I haven't heard in a while, which inspired me to write this letter: Mr. President by Janelle Monae (You might have heard of her since you’re on her youtube channel). I'm writing this letter sitting in my car in the back alley behind the relatively new federal building. Right now I’m watching a homeless man wipe the sweat dripping off his stray dog's sagging teat… No Homo.

Anyways, I’m sure you’ve heard the gamut of reactions from the critiques in response to today’s events; from Anderson Cooper’s twitter to Michael Binyon’s video commentary on Sky News, you MUST be exhausted from all this like being caught up in a porn storm. I imagine it feeling like you're on The Onion, doesn't it? To be honest this came as a shock to me myself. After reading about you on CNN.com I was waiting for the part of the article that reads they were giving away the Nobel Peace Prize on the radio this morning and you were the 10th caller.

A little premature...don't you agree?

I took the liberty of quoting a part of your half-ass'd acceptance speech from this morning, which I'm sure an intern written up.

...the Nobel Peace Prize has not just been used to honor specific achievement; it's also been used as a means to give momentum to a set of causes. And that is why I will accept this award as a call to action...

~Pres. Barack O.

(This coming from a man whose wife let Stevie Wonder trip on stage and left him for dead.)

Ok ok ok... I understand that you were innately saving face and trying to make sense of this nonsense; however, you must admit that the politicos at the redstate have a valid point. If the deadline to turn in nominations for the Nobel Peace Prize was 12 days after you took office, then what the hell was the committee going by? ... I'm gonna need a few words with Mr. Jagland.

Half way convinced this was either an oversight or the biggest Punk'd Ashton Kutcher has pulled off since the conception of the show; I had to look up the rules and regulation on how the Nobel Peace Prize winner is decided before I slit my wrists at work.

...I'll be damned... the homeless guy is staring at his dogs steamy pile of shit.

I found out Alfred Nobel stipulated in his will (1895) that the peace prize should go "to the person who shall have done the most or the best work for fraternity between the nations and the abolition or reduction of standing armies and the formation and spreading of peace congresses."

I guess you have a formidable road ahead of you.

If God created the heavens and the earth in 7 days, I guess winning the Nobel Peace Prize in 12 days isn't so unattainable. You should write a book, "How to win the Nobel Peace Prize by the time your Master Cleanse is over." It'll be the next Oprah's Book Club hit.

So, I suppose a congratulations is in order. Congratulations on the award and thank you. Thank you for not having a false sense of self accomplishment.

Best Regards,

Me

p.s. Someone wanted me to pass on a message:

“YO OBAMA, I’M GONNA LET YOU FINISH, BUT I JUST WANNA SAY THAT MARTIN LUTHER KING JR WAS THE BEST NOBEL PRIZE WINNER OF ALL TIME.”

~Kanye West

U

not so long ago, i discovered a new drug
it's called u
much unlike any other drug
such high potency.
one night, under dim light
it actually consumed me.
Inhaling and exhaling me
it is much to my pleasure
such the great high
i constantly find myself lost in u.
find myself desiring
to be one with u
much the picture of perfection
such the eternal.
make no mistake
it is neither availible to you or your friend
u was created for me
and i,
created for u.
u has made me a fiending bastard
i soar on u across the void
and i become much like the invalid
such the numbness to bullshit
yet everyone can see our value is high
and i am much sure i am in love with the drug
in fact such the addiction major addiction
yes indeed
i love u

Which one are you?

Last night I realized there’s a possibility that I don’t understand the phenomenon of dating. I’ve spent the majority of my 20s in a LTR with a GAM from LA until the LDR moved to NYC after living in SF to become whatever you become when you move there. It's been my experience that after being with someone for 9 years, I expected a stigma attached to myself amongst the Scene which yields one of two things: Rumors and Infidelity.

Listening to: Fiona Apple - Get Gone | When the Pawn Hits the Conflicts He Thinks Like a King...

As weird as it is to be single again, a friend told me I should try being single for now; this, coming from someone whose past 3 relationships was a result of an affair with the previous relationship. By taking his advice, it wasn't but a few months after until someone interesting came along who, unfortunately, made it a point to constantly remind me there was always someone more attractive than myself (yeah, yah know… after typing out that last sentence, WTF was I thinking then?). Needless to say, that “relationship” was in the Fastrak lane to nowhere.

Refusing to admit that my friend was right about being single for the time being, I ended up dating my first Filipino at age 29 in hopes of being with someone that understands me. Without putting too much of someone else’s business out there, it was like yelling at the TV while a Telenovela was on full blast and you’re only experience in Spanish was the 2 years you took in high school and that trip you took to TJ back in 2003. Yeah… it felt like that… and as ironic as it was, I never felt so misunderstood.

So here I am, 3 failed quasi-relationships in a year and a half, which is the status quo in the Scene, apparently.

SIDE NOTE: The Scene is an intrinsically remarkable phenomenon. One’s OG status is not measured by ones age, but measured by what era one came into the Scene. For example, a 28 y/o who has been clubbing since JRs and Faith is more of an OG than a 38 y/o who started clubbing when Trigger opened earlier this year (yes, believe me…there are 38 y/o clubbers out there, but that’s another blog entry).

With that being said, my OG status goes back to when City Nights was The Box and the new Trigger was known as Detour.

So what now? What is it that single people do? With the number of years in the Scene under my belt, I have observed the following patterns with my fellow singles.

WARNING: By no means is this list meant to be exhaustive or exclusive, but illustrative and comprehensive for comedic purposes.

Party & Bullshit
It’s very common for newly single individuals, not limiting to the Scene, to become party activists overnight. This type of individual wants to drink up every night and bring a buddy/wingman for their support. Their choice of environment/battleground is usually whichever venue is playing hip hop that night; subsequently, the night of aggressive/professional drinking usually ends in a fight or throwing up in the wingman’s car. I suggest if the individual has a large circle of friends, is to play round robin with your wingmen, as to not seem desperate. Also, this act usually goes on until they finally get one of their one-night stands preggo or until they start showing symptoms of their newly attributed STD.

The Serial Dater
There are those individuals that we all come to know and love who have made dating an art form. The Serial Dater, not to be confused by The Speed Dater, will date an obscene amount of partners in such a short period of time and may come across as a player or a hoe (whichever makes more comfortable). Usually this person would take the initiative to get to know someone and will genuinely be interested until they find something about that person that falls under their list of “DO NOT DATE PEOPLE WITH¬…” —like webbed feet… not that there’s anything wrong with that.

However so equivocal in the types of people they date, when The Serial Dater finds the perfect match they become a Brigadoon Fag only because their new partner passed many levels of scrutiny… and who would want to lose that?

ANOTHER SIDE NOTE: When I looked up “Serial Dater” on UrbanDictionary.com I also came across “Serial Butt Friend”. I can’t believe there’s a term for that.

YesterGay | Hasbian
Not to discredit the validity of their relationship, but YesterGays and Hasbians, though uncommon, do exist. It’s like finding close parking at the mall during Christmas time.

I’ve seen different levels of significance with YesterGays and Hasbians, whether they marry for papers only or for tax purposes, but a friendship between a YesterGay and a Hasbian is very genuine.

So where does this leave me?

As much as I hate to write about my inner psyche, I guess I can leave you with a quote a wise man once told me in hopes of a coup d’état of consternation when you see me next.

“There are 3 types of people in this world;
• those who make things happen,
• those who saw what happened, and
• those who ask “Wah happened?”
Which one are you?”

(taken from my adam 4 adam page)

Have you forgiven?

It's unfortunate for myself (and the 5 people that follow this blog) that American Pilipino Pedagogy has kicked the "proverbial bucket" (if you will) for the last few months. I'm not sure if it was the dawn of Twitter that took the final "blow" or me being a Brigadoon Fag; however, in both cases I've been neglecting to express my inner thoughts and emotions for all to see… and no one to care.

With that said, I dust off the old defibrillator hoping to jump-start my muse. I need something to get the "creative juices" flowing again; and since none of my juices are flowing as of yet, like a topical comic, I turn to the news.

There seems to be an underlying question of the day, which is covered by the countless numbers of news sites and blogs I follow (yes, I read blogs… don't judge).

"Do you remember?"

Unfortunately, yes… I do.

I flew back to SFO Monday afternoon, Sept 10, 2001 from a long weekend in L.A. I was a super senior on the 5-year plan and needed to meet up with my counselor Tuesday morning. My alarm wakes me up so I grabbed my phone and see 8 miss calls; 1 from my professor and 7 from my ex. I checked my voicemail and my professor says that we have to reschedule because it's "hectic on campus". (bah, I could've had extra sleep). I stumble out of my 7-ft loft bed to get ready for class. I had the intension of calling my ex when I'm fully awake after I hit the shower.
With my eyes sealed shut from rheum I make my way past my brothers room as he says, "We're under attack!" Naturally, I dismiss all dialogue that precedes my morning enema.

As I'm in the middle of my 30-minute shower, I grab my procephalic lufah and continue to punas my nether regions. Like an SF MUNI train… it hit me –"We're under attack?!?" (This would make a good Major's Moded Story (MMS) of the day.)

I finish up the shower and put some clothes on to better situate myself with what happened. By the time I sat and watched the tube, both towers have already fallen. The ticker at the bottom of the screen read "America Under Attack!" For a second, I thought my brother was watching a Steven Seagal movie (who, in my opinion by far, ran out of fame well before 9-11). Even though I slept right through the attacks, there were plenty of replays and fraudulent images from the media to keep me up to speed.

I called my ex and he explains to me that he's been trying to call a dear friend of ours in NYC. He said our friend called early in the morning to tell/warn him that we're being attacked. Still halfway drunk from the night before, my ex hangs up the phone and hasn't heard from him since. Having just returned from LA, I remembered saying to my ex that I should drive down to LA so that we could be together through all this. Dependency was my foible. I spent pretty much the next few days watching the news until it was time to go to bed.

At the time I was a coordinator for one of the Filipino organizations on campus. I get a text the next day saying we have to caucus about what we're going to do as an organization in response to yesterday's events. As most organizations do, we met with our advisor to seek his advice.

He said something I'll never forget, "We must forgive; forgive the victims, forgive the terrorist, even forgive the families of the terrorists."

I must say I really wanted to punch a baby when I heard that. "Shame on you" I thought to myself after hearing what he had to say. "how can you say that given the circumstances?"
However, he articulated further and posed the questions, "What would it take for you to commit such an act?"

"If your family was suffering, wouldn't you do the same?"

"How much suffering would you put up with until you were driven to such extremes?"

To be honest, this made sense. As unpopular of a response as it may be, yes... I started to agree. For whatever reason terrorist do what they do, aside from pulling a jihad to meet x number of virgins in heaven, their actions are understandable... to a certain degree.

This may contradict one of my earlier entries from this year --God forgives; not me!-- however, I guess what we should be asking ourselves is not if we have "forgotten"; but after 8 years, have we "forgiven"?

Only at Walmart

About a month ago I decided I'm in the market for a new mattress; more specifically, the 8" memory foam mattress at Walmart I've been eying for the past year. Never have I been so committed to something so meaningless in my life... but I want it.

It was the day I left work early and did my STD screening. After the screening I decided to call Rayo and see if he wanted to meet up for a bottle of shit's and giggles. Subsequently, we agreed to meet up at Union Landing; there's a Walmart there. As I arrived, I parked next to the tire center to avoid having to deal with parking-lot traffic. I get out my car, closed the door, and armed the alarm. As I was commenting in my head how I need fix the AC in my car because a V-shaped sweat mark is SO attractive... an Impala turns the corner and screeches to a halt in front of me. The guy in car, who I can only describe as a husky Lil' Wayne, says something to me. Still stunned by the Lil’ Wayne’s gold chains and matching grill, I replied with a consternating look, "WHAT?!? Huh?!?" (a most appropriate response, don't you think?)

He reaches for the passenger seat and pulls out a jewelry box, "You wanna buy a Movado watch or a diamond tennis bracelet?"

Oh hell... I just parked and not 10 feet from my car, someone is trying to sell me something that fell off the truck.

“Nah, Brah. I’m straight.”

Unfortunately, after excusing myself from the situation, I find that the mattress was not there. However, the next day I decided to buy the mattress on Walmart.com using their "Site-to-Store" feature and had it shipped to the Walmart in Oakland off of Hegenberger. I figured I'd stay clear of any parking lot entrepreneurs in Union City.

Fast forward to yesterday afternoon:

It takes Walmart.com 3 weeks to complete their 7 to 10-day delivery. Nonetheless, I get the email saying it finally arrived. I printed out my email, checked to see if I have my ID, and was off to Oakland. As I'm humming along Taylor Swift's You Belong With Me, I pull up to the parking lot. I got out my car, closed the door, and armed the alarm. I was feeling a little good about the drive since there was relatively no traffic on 880, possibly due to a holiday weekend. As I turned the corner around my car and head towards the entrance, a lady is standing there with her makeshift cart...she asked me if I wanted to buy tamales. 'Twas apparent to me she made these at home and individually wrapped these in foil. I didn't have any, but I'm sure the tamales were good. She probably would have made a killing at the EatReal Fest at Jack London Square this past weekend.

I believe this warrants a twitter update.

As I'm updating my twitter about running into the Tamale Lady at the Walmart parking lot, I see a sign that reads "Site-to-Store in rear". From the moment I started walking towards the rear, I see every possible Homies character --the one with the wife beater, cut off Dickies, and Cortez’s to the one in the wheel chair-- it was amazing. I'm pretty sure the maker gets his inspiration standing at his/her local Walmart.

I get to the back of the store and the woman working the cash register in the Electronics section notices me. She points me in the right direction towards a blatant sign that reads “Site-to-Store here”. I’m still not sure how I missed the sign; maybe I was drawn back because she reminds me of Whoopi Goldberg from Jumpin Jack Flash (man, I miss that movie).

A few moments pass before someone acknowledges me standing there.

“Sweetie, have you been helped?”

Oh… Emm…. Gee… I couldn’t believe it. What are my chances that Madea was help’n me out at the counter?

I don’t know what it is (and I’ve mentioned this on my twitter), but I’m convinced living in Oakland is like being in a Tyler Perry movie.

Message to a stranger

I must say...

I'm a little ambivalent on how I feel now that I've reached the end of "Call Me Chief." I meant to write you a few nights ago but I've been occupied with the new mattress.

One of my first jobs right out of high school was working at a bookstore at a mall in Daly City. Just like any bookstore or library, all the books were stored together by genre --sci fi with sci fi, fantasy with fantasy, new age with new age. The one section I just h8ted to put away (yes, I used the symbolic "8" to emphasized how much h8te is involved) and 'til this day wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy... was romance series.

A kid out of high school can take only so much of another Fabio's topless picture, embracing a younger woman on a red paperback-bound copy of the new edition to the romance series. Suburban housewives coming into the store every Tuesday evening to pick up a copy.

"Harlequin Star! This is just Harlequin; I'm looking for Harlequin Star!"

Is that right, Ms.? Is Fabio giving it to you better in a book than your husband is in the bedroom?

Danielle Steele needs to stop writing for that matter (give it a 2 month break at least, please!)...but I digress...

In some ways, and I'd hate to admit it, I "almost" understand the psyche of these Daly City suburban housewives. They use Fabio to distract them from the monotony of their every day lives. Not comparing you to Fabio or anything ('cuz you'll always be Billy Zane), but your facetiae has been keeping me in good company; albeit, I'm by myself.

Whether you're ranting about the dynamics of gay and lesbian couples, or analyzing the ambiguity of a street sign, or something simple as expressing how the word "ooooooh" makes you feel; translating what's in your head down on paper is easier said than done... literally.

I'm not even sure where I'm going with this and I'm a little apprehensive to tell you what my initial thoughts were when I first started reading. To be honest after I read you majored in Poli Sci, I was convinced you were a Republican; only because one of my friends turned out to be Republican after we finished our undergrad. Mea Culpa

So even though we're both "coincidentally" not into books, I wanted to pass along an African Proverb my professor quoted a long time ago.

"Everyone in the journey of life is like a book waiting to be read and shared. And at the end of your journey, your quality of life is not measured by monetary or material possessions, but by the size of your library."

~patiently waiting for the next entry... no pressure

OMG, Jojo. I can't believe you were twittering when this happened.

UPDATE: 3 dead in alleged murder/suicide at Long Beach Memorial
By Tracy Manzer, Staff Writer
Posted: 04/16/2009 12:10:28 PM PDT

LONG BEACH - Police are investigating an alleged murder/suicide that left three people dead at Long Beach Memorial Medical Center Thursday.

Calls of the incident began flooding over police and fire radios at 11:47 a.m.

Preliminary reports listed two dead and a weapon found on scene in the lobby of one of the hospital's pharmacies.

As officers fanned out through the hospital the toll went up to three subjects down, including the gunman who had killed himself.

All were believed to be employees at the pharamcy, sources told the Press-Telegram exclusively.

Two of the injured had been taken to the emergency room, but by 1:20 p.m. all three people were reported dead.

Preliminary reports also found the gunman may have been a disgruntled current or former employee.

It was not clear who the victims were, although at least one was believed to be the supervisor of the gunman.

Someone called 911 while the alleged shooter had the gun in the pharmacy, police said.

The hospital remained on lockdown as of 1:20 p.m.

I´m In Miami Bitch! LMFAO!

I know I haven't blogged in a hot second. But I just wanted to share this song that I heard on the radio last week. What perfect timing cuz I'm leaving for Miami on Sunday. this will definitely be the theme song for the week.

Also, now that I'll more free time in my hands (if you know what I mean), I'm sure I'll blog more consistently.

Apologies again. 'til next time.... "when I'm in Miami Bitch!"

Oh Kimorah...

...you fucking whora. I walked into the JCPenny in East Jesus No Where, and I fucking see this display right in the front. Jesus Fuck!

Hollow Point Bullets Recalled That Don't Explode In Targets

This news cast caught me off guard for 2:10. Then I checked again and noticed it was The Onion. Darn, In some sick way I was hoping it was real.

SFSU PACE PCN 2002 Hip Cha

Big Ups to Junior for finally posting this.

Go BSU @ 9 minutes.

Mild Staphyloma?

So I had a pretty good scare yesterday.

I'm warming up my car to go to work and I decide to Twitter how I hate the day and the weekend needs to begin already; you know, one of those FML moments. I stare at my phone and it looks a little off. I had trouble reading the screen, but managed to Tweet for the time being. I put on my glasses and headed to the freeway when I noticed the stop sign ahead was a little off too. It seems that I'm getting double vision. I pulled over to put on my contacts cuz I thought it was the glasses. Damn it, it's not the glasses or the contacts.

Somehow, someway I managed to get to work and asked my coworkers if I was crossed eyed. Much to their amusement, they all said no. I go to my desk to figure things out throughout the day. I figured it was stress from work this week, so maybe it would go away after lunch. No such luck. Here's where the creepy part comes. After lunch, I'm at my desk checking my eyes. I cover my right eye and all is well. I cover the left eye and discovered that there is a weird dent in my vision. It sorta looks like the dent effect on photobooth on mac.




I call Kaiser in a panic and I'm trying to describe to the advice nurse what the hell I'm seeing. Use the photobooth on macs as an analogy and she has not clue what the hell I'm talking about. She proceeds to asks me a series of questions: Did you injure your eye in some way? Did you get punched in the eye? Did you spill and chemicals on your eye?

She then transfers me to Optometry to speak with an advice nurse there and again the same set of questions. The nurse then tells me that I need to come in and see a doctor. I leave work in a hurry, but not too much in a hurry since the cars on the free are closer than they appear.. to me at least.

I get to the hospital and the nurse guy, Jake, does his prep work before the doctors get there. He runs a few tests, what I like to call "click when you see the hair waving" or "lemme blow some air in your eyes." After all that, he gives me these eye drops that dilates my pupils. Great. Eyes haven't been dilated since the last time I dropped E (I'm twittering all this while it's happening, btw).

Anyways, the room is dark and I'm starting to see colors and tints, I guess my pupil are wide open. In the end the doctor tells me that I have a mild case of staphyloma and I have a follow up on the 27th.

Thanks to everyone for their concerns and blessing, which is only Rayo as of now. And it wasn't even a concern or a blessing. More like "Did your eye fall out? I Google Imaged It. That's disgusting."

I told my parent about it just now, too. I caught my mom falling asleep on her chair while I was telling her. And dad hella Penelope'd me after I finished my story by telling me that he has Cataracts. FML.

This is SO wrong...

As a plane is losing power, a pilot comes over the intercom & says "sorry it had to come to this folks, but we've already let the luggage go & the plane continues to lose speed". "i hate to have to do this, but now we're gonna have to start releasing passengers by alphabet order beginning with the letter "A"AFRICANS, ANY AFRICANS"?... No one answers "B" BLACK PEOPLE ANY BLACK PEOPLE"? again, silence."C" COLORED PEOPLE, ANY COLORED PEOPLE"?...silence. A black boy turns to his mother & says "mom, aren't we african american?, aren't we black? Aren't we colored"? the mother turns to her son & says today we NIGGAS, let mexicans go first".The little black boy turns to the little mexican kid sitting next to him and laughs! The mexican kids laughs back & says "nigga I'm a WETBACK"!
ANYTHINGS POSSIBLE...

This shirt is SO cool!

Was at TRUE on haight with Kirk, Kevin, and Grace. Its that yellow folder from elementary school we used to get, but it has a guy getting arrested.

Kevin's List of all time Hated Songs.

500 Miles
Zoot Suit Riot
Mambo Number 5
This is the night
how bizzare
ha?

Hella Kawawa

Awww Kevin. Hella mad at everyone after the operation today. At least you have a new nose. See you after work, buddy.

Stupid Starbucks, urgh!

I fucking hate that I can't sleep. Got a photo shoot tomorrow too.

Giv'em Da Boot!

So this my friend Bonnie from long time ago. We used to kick it back in '96, but lost touch after working at Century. Apparently, she's friends with Michelle; how that happened, I have no idea.

Anywho, this is a picture at happy hour at Schroders. They have this 80oz boot full of beer. That's right...beer. That's 2 40's she's drinking. Its like bigger than her head or as big as a newborn, Jesus Christ. ...i mean bigger than a newborn in general...not a newborn Jesus Christ...

I wanna go here for my BDay this year. Anyone? ...Anyone? ...Bueller? .....Bueller?

Welcome Back Grace!

So, I must say, this weekend should have been uneventful; however, things just never go that way for my group of friends.

You must be thinking what the hell is Grace doing with this car. In some cases, a few of you might be thinking this was the result of the night Grace was in the bonus round in Street Fighter that one night in the city. I, myself, too missed that night. I believe I was in Tahoe with Parangal.

So before I explain the picture, I have to describe the night before.

Kevin, Kirk, Rich and I were anticipating on staying in (Grace was in San Diego and everyone else was MIA). We were at The Trap ready to Guitar Hero World Tour it for the night and be content with the evening. We were playing this one stupid old 70's rock song and I kept fucking up on the bass on expert. The song is stupid because it's literally 15 minutes....yes.. 15 minutes. Of course my dumb ass messes up at 98 percent, which is close to 13 minutes... on our nth try. I think we got SO frustrated we decided to go out.

We get to Lime and all is well; however, just like clock work, something has to start with our group. I'm not sure how we got into it this time since it was just Kev, Kirk, Rich, and me; but, 3.0 starts shit with Rich. There's pushing and hollering, bouncer fleshlights are waving in the air...blah blah blah. And the whole time, I kept thinking to myself, "I just want to get back and pass that one song."

No punches were thrown, like all gay fights, and we end up leaving the club. We were on our way home and we get a call from Harvey. Harvey said he was on his way to Rich's place; however, when he arrived, he brought 41351324987413546084 people with him. Patrick was there, Kit showed up... and this one super twink Leo showed up.

Since we were Guitar Hero'ing it, I didn't see how the fight started, but what I hear is Harvey grabs Leo by the next and pins him against the wall in Rich's kitchen. After witnessing yet another gay fight with no punches thrown, everyone leaves and of course Kev, Kirk and I are still having trouble with the song.

5am comes around, and Rich get's a call from Edwin. Edwin says he was at Ray's house when they get into a fight cuz Nate was texting him, so Ray storms off with the car. 15 minutes later, Edwin get's a call from Ray saying he wrecked his car...while parking.

Since Edwin is from the East Bay, he called Rich and asked if we can pick up Ray. We were playing Marco Polo with Ray around Daly City until we found his car like this.

And as for Grace... we just told her about it and she wanted to see it right after we pick her up from the airport.

Sorry't import model circa 1995

Ang sakit ang singit ko.

I'll be damned Nintendo came out with game called "singit" on the Wii. You would think someone would've said something.

So...if someone is so eager to buy this game...they would ask, "Have you played Wii Singit?"

... fucking h8tes it!!!

Another Moded Moment from Major E. Julian

I haven't blogged in a couple of days. I need to be on top of this more. Here is a short entry that sparked the "Major's Moded Moments of the Day" phenomenon back in 2006. "MMMD" was a series of moded moments that I encounter throughout the day that I share with everyone. I'll be sure to being it back this time around.

Dated 11:25 PM 4/19/2006
========================

So I've been talking to James from that one singing group way back when, and I've heard of the group before but I can't remember any of their songs.

Anywho, I was downloading music last night and ran into one of their songs. Something about not wanting to go on or something.

I texted him not too long ago saying I finally heard that song from "Interlude".
He corrected me and texted me back, Apparently, it's spelled "Innerlude".

To make things worse he asked me where I heard the song.
Then I said, "Oh, 6th day was singing it."

HA HA. How fucking moded was that?

Pillow Fight 2009!

So I had a very interesting Valentine's Day.

Challenge Video

source: KevJumba

Amazing Grace. Happy Birthday!

In honor if Grace's B-Day weekend this year, I decided to post a "harmless" video of her partying in the city one night. This video was taken way back last year. It wasn't even her birthday weekend then, so it's anyone's guess how her weekend went this year.

Oh, Grace. Happy Birthday Girrrl!

***Clarification***

I did not cut his hair. Just wanted to make that clear.

A promise... is a promise.

So Gil wants me to stop blogging about him. Apparently, someone reading this blog is telling him that I'm writing stuff about him, which I am, but only because he gives me the best material. And its not like I'm always writing stuff about him. Remember "Dad & Asian Hermaphrodites?" ...that had nothing to do with him at all.

True, I blog about him when he gets on my nerves; such as "STOP PLAYING THE VICTIM YOU FUCKING BITCH" or "God forgives; not me!" ...but...there are other blogs about him that aren't so bad at all. Have you read "Christmas Hell" or "la isla de las alcatres"? See...not all entries about him are bad...only when it needs to be.

Anyways, 3.0 asked me to go out tonight and have a drink with him. I told him that I shouldn't because I would never hear the end of it from Gil. Subsequently, 3.0 said he'll convince Gil to drink tonight if I wanted. I said go ahead to see what Gil would say.

Gil's phone rings and he starts speaking Tagalog. He tends to do that when he's hiding something. Anyways, I'm assuming he's speaking with 3.0 about going out tonight. He gets off the phone, and doesn't say anything; however, he starts cutting his hair. umm...is he planning on going out tonight and not telling me?

How about paying for February's rent first before spending it on alcohol? It's already the 5th...

imjustsayin... thought I'd put it out there.

Patisss 2002

Ok ok ok... I need to explain myself with this one. Some people have approached me about this video.

• "What the hell are you doing?"
• "Why are you topless?"
• "Where are you?"
• "Where can I learn to dance like you, Major?"

These are just some of the questions people have asked me when they come across this video.

Back during my SF State days I was a part of a Filipino organization on campus called the Pilipino American Collegiate Endeavor; PACE for short. In Spring of '02 PACE needed more money so we can pay for PCN.

Somehow, we came up with throwing another fundraiser called PATISSS. Pilipino American Talent in Speech, Song, and Sayaw (The Fall fundraiser is called SPAM: Showcasing Pilipino Artists and Musicians).

Anywho, Junior felt that Bing had his share of MC'ing for the year and nominated me as MC for the night. I must say, I thought Junior lost his mind when he said I should do it, but eveyrone agreed....and like a dumbass...I went along with it.

As far as the topless thing... lets just say I took a few pointers from Bing right before the show and the rest is history.

*COUGH*

Urgh! The day has finally caught up to me. I finally got sick. I think it happened this weekend in Tahoe when Phuc and I were caught on the NV side of the mountain without a Kleenex to wipe our ass. Jesus!

I actually wanted to film the way down from the peak; however, I needed both hands to "do the dew." I eventually managed to get a clip of the bunny slope off of the First Ride ski lift, but just like a dumbass, the snow catches the back of my board cuz I'm too busy laughing at people around me.

Maybe I can get a clip the next time we head to Heavenly. Any takers?

YES!!!

Just had the best run EVER. Went up with guys, but only came down with Phuc.

Good Morning

Ah yes...i can't wait to hit the icy slops. We're staying ay June's brother's place in Gardnerville.

This is a shot from the 3rd floor of the 6th floor suite. I think i'm going to like today; however, I'm wishing for a snow storm somewhere between now and 9:30.

I'm gonna try and convinced the guys to hit up the casinos instead of the clubs... wait a minute, are there clubs out here? Probably not.

Dad & Asian Hermaphrodites

Here is another entry from my old blog. It took me a while to find the picture. I didn't want to post it without it. Eh-enjoy.

Dated 11/25/2006 3:42 AM
========================

I know I don't spend as much time as I should at home, but you would think the amount of time I do spend at home I would at least see this one coming.

I was about to leave to Mark's apt but I was going to switch keychains because my car alarm broke off. I asked my dad where the spare keys were and he said it was in his drawer. I go to his room and couldn't find it in the desk. He then yelled from the kitchen that it was in the left drawer. I looked inside and pulled out this video tape.



I know you wouldn't believe me so I took a picture with my camera phone. Yes... I couldn't believe it too. Asian Hermaphrodites.

I'm not sure if it's my dads. It could be that it's my brothers and he was watching it in my dad's room since he's the only one in the house that owns a VHS player. However, my brother IS into black women. Then again, Asian Hermaphrodites is a long way AWAY from black women. This isn't the first time I've seen porn in my dad's VHS player, but DAMN... Hermaphrodites?!?

Is my dad trying to understand me? Is this his way of reaching out to me? How do I even know its my dad's? What the hell would you guys do? Let me know, please.

When you know you got too much time on your hands...

I know what you must be thinking.... "lemme borrow that top, betch!"
Anyways, I found a pair of skinny jeans in my closet and I'm not sure whose they are. I figured I'd try them on and this was the end result... it became an instant "I lost me to meth" ad.

What a "danger!"

God forgives; not me!

So last night Gil and I had a nice dinner which subsequently was going to lead to a movie; however we missed the 7pm showing of The Unborn and the next one was around 9:30pm. We ended up going to Starbucks next to the Safeway on Market and Church. We were killing time and calling some friends, but no one responded. Since I was amped on a double shot of espresso in a skinny vanilla latte, I felt that we should keep moving, avoiding all opportunity to pillow talk about our relationship. Unfortunately, Gil asked the proverbial question... "let's talk about us; where do we stand?"

*sigh*


Basically, we argued in Starbucks. We argued on the way back to the car. We argued on the drive home.
I must say, he put up a good yelling match one the way home, but since my blood was pumping caffeine like no other... I think I won that night. The winning line was... "What? What do you want me to do? You're asking for my forgiveness. Fuck you! I'm not God. God forgives; not me!"

then... a biblical silence falls upon us the rest of the ride home. I almost thought God was going to strike me down somewhere around Serramonte.

Happy Birthday Bing!

Just wanted to let everyone know it's Bing's Birthday. Happy 30th B-Day Bing.

Also, just a quick update, Craig is out of the ICU and was moved down the hall from where he was at last week. Besides the sweating from the pain and the fact that he hasn't showered in a week, he's looking good. 

AND...

Congratulations to Hiyas and Kariktan on their audition for the World Arts West Ethnic Dance Festival at Palace of Fine Arts today. Wishing you good luck to getting in. I hope we all make it... unless they only accept 1 genre per festival... in that case, I hope we get it... cuz that would be weird... hoping another group would get in before you... I mean come on now... really...

Ok, gotta get ready for Rich's sister's BDay. I think she's turning 38 or something. Happy BDay Carol.

/TRAY she uh/

He's Doing Better

I saw Craig last night. He's doing significantly better than yesterday, from what I hear, and he is moving out of the ICU today if they can find a place for him in the less intensive care units.

Craig is not eating solid foods yet, but did eat Jello last night. He also called me a bitch, so I'm assuming he's on his way to a speedy recovery. He'll be up and drinking in no time.

I think we're gonna try an visit him tonight once we get the word from Yoshi.

We've been finding articles online every now and then.

STOP PLAYING THE VICTIM YOU FUCKING BITCH!

He's getting on my last nerves.

If you follow me on twitter or seen my AIM status, you'll get what I mean. So a couple of weeks ago someone brought up that we should do something for Joe's B-Day (Saturday to Monday during MLK weekend) which happens on the same weekend as the Ethnic Dance Festival audition. After 3 minutes of debating, Joe said Reno and since we all know nobody wants to go to Reno (not even people from Reno) I took that as the plans are still up in the air. I didn't tell Gil yet because nothing was set in stone.

About a week ago the plans were solidified; however, Reno changed to Tahoe AND Saturday to Monday changed to Friday to Sunday. Since we have an audition on Saturday morning, I didn't tell Gil about it; however, I did tell Gil that the guys were going.

Apparently someone invited his best friend and his best friend asked if he was going. Subsequently, he get's mad because his best friend was invited and I have yet to invite him on the trip. So I asked Gil, if Grace and Kevin waits for us on Saturday did you want to go up with them. He says no because he has bills to pay.

So yesterday comes along. My mom buys a new car and has a rent a car until Monday. I tell Grace we have a rent a car for the trip. Gil asked me what's the plan for the weekend. I told him, I didn't know, probably just hang out at the cabin since we won't get there til Saturday night. Just like clock work, he get's pissed because He thinks he wasn't invited.

STOP PLAYING THE VICTIM YOU FUCKING BITCH!

La Isla De Los Alcatres

Yes... You've read the title correct, I've finally made it to Alcatraz.

Gilbert has mentioned he's wanted to visit the prison a while ago and he bought tickets to go this past weekend. I've uploaded the pictures to Google's Picasa but still haven't figured how to share pictures on blogger. Come to think of it, I'm unsure if blogger can embed a video from youtube. Fucking AOL sucks ass.

Anyways, the island wasn't what I expected at all. I had the impression there was going to be a structured tour and we had to stick to the group that we came with on the boat. Apparently, you can do whatever you want as soon as you get off the boat. You can spend a day there on your own, make your own tour, or play tag with your friends.

We ended up taking this "walk-around tour" with this park ranger that looks like the neighbor from pet cemetary. Instead of taking the group straight to the top, he led the group around the south end of the island and up these flagstone stairs to the courtyard. There were sights of the city I've never seen before. In fact, the photos that's were taken of the city does not do justice.

Although we spent the next 3 hours on the island doing the audio tour learning about the different levels of history behind the island, I recommend just spending a sunny day on the island; the views are breath taking.

Fucking Costco, Fuck You!!!

It's official... I fucking hate Costco.

So not that it's a big deal to anyone, but after months of research and saving up, I finally got a flat screen tv. I bought mine the day after Christmas at Sears because Sears was having a 70% off all electronics after Christmas sale. I was ambivolent between a 46" Samsung or a 42" Toshiba; however, I ended up getting the 42" Toshiba because the color contrast was better. So out the door, I paid about $1008.

After all that bullshit to consider (i.e., color contrast, refresh rate, and resolution) I get an email from Costco. They were selling a 42" Philips with 120Hz AND a Bluray Player for $998.99. Jesus Christ, I swear to God, I fucking hates Costco right now.

However, I have been mitigating the stress with this Online Bubble Wrap Flash.

My Experience at Nob Hill Theatre

I did mention I kept a copy of my old AOL blog at work. The following is an entry I did some time after my ex and I broke up the first time. I guess it showed and my coworker wanted to cheer me up.

Dated 8/7/2007 11:01 AM
========================
So Tuesday of last week my coworker invites me to go with him to the Nob Hill Theater in the city after work. Nob Hill is a district east of the Tenderloin. If you don't know, it's an all male strip club...fully nude...except socks...on their feet...otherwise, where would you put the money. My coworker convinces me to go with him because he knows my "situation." We bought our tickets during our coffee break on Tuesday because the entrance fee is $20 before noon as opposed to $30 and it's good all day. So we meet up later that night at his house and my coworker drives. We parked across the street from the theater and him, his bf, and his bf's bff decided to drink in the car. Being this was my first time, I thought there was going to be a bar inside; unfortunately, I guess that theory only exist in straight strip joints. There was nothing there but the video arcades, a voyeuristic shower, a PSE (public sex environment), and the theater where they show porn between each dancer's performance.

So the first guy comes on, and this kid was not a day older than 17. I'm guessing he was still in high school and working to get into college (a typical scenario amongst heterosexual strippers). [btw. remember this kid]. So I sit behind my coworker as we watched this adolescent strip down to his birthday suit. He was an "item" so it was much to my amazement that he packed a raisin before he left for school today. He gave my coworker, whom expressed more than once that he's not into "items", a lap dance so eerie it made me feel like I was abiding a criminal act for not helping my coworker get out of there. After my coworker pays him, he [my coworker] turns to me and says that boy had the worse B.O. stripper money can buy. Now I feared for the worse as this pubescent bloke makes his rounds. He faces me and straddles what now has become my vagina. The smell was sour and pungent. As I reach for some money with the intention of paying this kid to leave me, I start to gag with disbelief since I thought I lost my gag reflex a long time ago. I slip the money in his sock...situation abated. But my plan back fires. Apparently, it's stripper etiquette that you're paying for the dance. The payment that I just put in his sock made him aggressive. There was more wiggling, more grinding, and you guessed it...more B.O.

As I gain consciousness from what has now become an episode from Making the Band, the MC introduces the next dancer, which at this time happens to be the only Asian in the line up; a Filipino. As the curtain opens, I recognize the clothes from earlier. It was the first stripper’s friend. I saw them hanging out in the lobby. Perhaps they go to school together. A spot light shines on the back of the dancer, casting a shadow on the wall. The dancer dances with his own shadow for a good a good moment then turns around and takes his jacket off. DAMN! It's my friend's little brother. I stand up and run out of the theater. My coworker follows me with a smile and a I-know-what's-going-on look on his face. He asked me if I knew him. I didn't know him, persay, but I know his older brother...and that this kid has a gf. But hey...gay for pay, that's what I always say.

I go to the Japanese restaurant next door and text my coworker to let me know when his set is over. I realized and came to terms that I can't be in there sober. I decided to guzzle down sake as if I was a Hummer going cross-country (no pun intended). My coworker and the bff came next door to tell me they left the bf there with my friend's little brother. Nice.

After coming back to the theatre, tippsy in all my glory, I'm relieved to see that the next act is up. An inshape alpha-male type who was doing hand-stand push-ups. He made his round around the theater gyrating to early 90's pop/slowjams. As he straddled my worn out vagina, my coworker uses his ID'er on his V-Cast phone to ID the music. PM Dawn - I'd Die Without You. As the alpha male sings in my ear, thinking I was into his vocal talent, I lean forward to whisper to my coworker, "I think we're the only 3 people in here who knows who PM Dawn is." And as if there was a mic hidden in his hooded manhood, he leans down and says, that's cuz we're the youngest ones here. I paid the man his dues and he gets on stage. He tells my coworker to tell the DJ to play his James Brown CD. He b-boys for a bit then does a mean head spin. That's right...2 rows of Asian boppers (as we are) cheered him on as he did a naked head spin to his James Brown compilation cd. You really just want him to be your friend.

The night goes on with a number of disappointments. Given that it was a work night we leave around 12:30 and kept talking about the naked head spin.

Sneakers Required

So the Sneakers Required NYE party with Mos Def was alright. This was my outfit for the night. I haven't put up the rest of the pictures yet cuz I haven't decided if I should upload them to MySpace since I don't have a Facebook anymore.

Anyways, the party was relatively fun; however, the only complaint I have is probably the fact that everyone missed the countdown. Goapele, was singing earlier in the night before Mos Def; she got the crowd going. Then, in the middle of Mos Def's set, there was a crowd in the front that was screaming. I thought someone got shot. I look over to Grace and she was checking her phone...it was 12:01. We hella missed the countdown. Actually, there was no countdown. Maybe they forgot or someone didn't tell Mos Def or something... SO stupid.