everything went fine
you knew i knew him as well
and you still came here
You left me this evening and I felt bad.
I can't understand why we all know each other or why it's a surprise when we do. Anyone who lives in Homotopia today has friends they've slept with or has friends who have slept with friends. It shouldn't be a surprise, nor should it be a shock.
I shared a meal this evening with Bonito. He had come over, just recently breaking it off with the kid he was talking to. He came from another boro and had every intention of sleeping over. Packed his work clothes and brought his phone charger, he was staying.
Hercules, my roommate, had gone out and I didn't expect him home for a while, but he returned sooner than I thought... Nevermind, the whole setup is tired and I'm over it.
The shortened version of the long story is this, Bonito was talking to this guy that I am friends with. I didn't know who it was when he came to sleep in the same bed with me. During conversation, I found out who it was and he decided to go home.
If I didn't know who it was, I doubt I'd be writing this now, or sleeping alone in a few minutes. It leaves me wondering a few things.
Primarily, is he the better person for leaving or is he even worse for knowing I was friends with the guy he was talking to and coming anyway. I also wonder if I should have been the one to send him home instead of him going on his own.
It pisses me off -- I've been talking to Bonito on and off for a little over a year -- he used to live down the block and we never got to hang out. Then, when I finally get the chance, it's ruined by some drama that I didn't sign up for.
This is why I'm single, because no matter what, some random shit is going to go down and it's just going to piss me off.
This is not a spectacular blog post -- at all.
And I even cleaned the house to make a good impression...
viernes, abril 02, 2010
viernes, julio 24, 2009
jueves, abril 30, 2009
Networking.
social networking
new circles intertwining
nothing is withheld
Yesterday I recieved a Facebook request from my uncle. It got me thinking -- of course I have to approve him, but who else did I have that is family related, who could also be reading this fascist rag? Probably more than Im aware. Not that there is anything wrong with my blog -- it's well written and informative, current with today's issues that impact my life, and from time to time, the lives of others. It should be a compulsory read for all!
The fault here is probably again my own. I mean why would anyone be writing about half the things that I do, unless of course they were diggin on dudes from time to time? The reality of who I choose to sleep with is really of little consequence to who I am as a person; I've really had no need to include such trivial aspects of my life with those I'm not sleeping with because in all seriousness, it's none of their business.
The lifestyle choices you make and who you decide to make aware of how you're conducting yourself on the daily grind is so incredibly transparent on the internet. How many of us will make pages using the same username that a quick google search will easily organise for any curious online stalker? I know I'm guilty of it -- are you? Think about it.
With the overlap of MySpace, Loopt, Twitter and Facebook -- my blog has become a focal point for anyone trying to figure out what goes thru my head. I still think the map is rudimentary at best, but there are sufficient clues that any domesticated chimpanzee could easily assemble -- perhaps it's as easy as square peg In square hole, but I'd like to give myself a little more credit than that.
Granted it's not as if my blog is a collection of erotic movies and home made porn photo sets, I save that for xtube! But even acknowledging that could be problematic! Imagine holiday meals and the topic switches from baby Jesus to how I could change the lighting to maximise the glimmer of the nut just as the money shot lands on my chest?
Who am I kidding, we all know it'll end up on my lack of abs. A boy can dream!
Since before reality TV, people have been engrossed in the daily happenings of regular people. Take Twitter for example, I have people following my "tweets" and I've no clue who they are! I'm guilty of a similar action -- studio porn is great, but my friends naked is much more erotic... Figure that out! I think it's because it gives my peculiarity a small glimmer of normalcy.
Regardless, social networking sites overrun with my family or coworkers aside, I'd do myself a disservice by keeping all this shit in my head -- I've done it for long enuf as it is -- a new era has come -- fuck the world, all eyes on me!
Yo no se de ella ni por myspace...
new circles intertwining
nothing is withheld
Yesterday I recieved a Facebook request from my uncle. It got me thinking -- of course I have to approve him, but who else did I have that is family related, who could also be reading this fascist rag? Probably more than Im aware. Not that there is anything wrong with my blog -- it's well written and informative, current with today's issues that impact my life, and from time to time, the lives of others. It should be a compulsory read for all!
The fault here is probably again my own. I mean why would anyone be writing about half the things that I do, unless of course they were diggin on dudes from time to time? The reality of who I choose to sleep with is really of little consequence to who I am as a person; I've really had no need to include such trivial aspects of my life with those I'm not sleeping with because in all seriousness, it's none of their business.
The lifestyle choices you make and who you decide to make aware of how you're conducting yourself on the daily grind is so incredibly transparent on the internet. How many of us will make pages using the same username that a quick google search will easily organise for any curious online stalker? I know I'm guilty of it -- are you? Think about it.
With the overlap of MySpace, Loopt, Twitter and Facebook -- my blog has become a focal point for anyone trying to figure out what goes thru my head. I still think the map is rudimentary at best, but there are sufficient clues that any domesticated chimpanzee could easily assemble -- perhaps it's as easy as square peg In square hole, but I'd like to give myself a little more credit than that.
Granted it's not as if my blog is a collection of erotic movies and home made porn photo sets, I save that for xtube! But even acknowledging that could be problematic! Imagine holiday meals and the topic switches from baby Jesus to how I could change the lighting to maximise the glimmer of the nut just as the money shot lands on my chest?
Who am I kidding, we all know it'll end up on my lack of abs. A boy can dream!
Since before reality TV, people have been engrossed in the daily happenings of regular people. Take Twitter for example, I have people following my "tweets" and I've no clue who they are! I'm guilty of a similar action -- studio porn is great, but my friends naked is much more erotic... Figure that out! I think it's because it gives my peculiarity a small glimmer of normalcy.
Regardless, social networking sites overrun with my family or coworkers aside, I'd do myself a disservice by keeping all this shit in my head -- I've done it for long enuf as it is -- a new era has come -- fuck the world, all eyes on me!
Yo no se de ella ni por myspace...
miércoles, abril 29, 2009
Nau.
technical beauty
fully sustainable goods
and a perfect fit
Who's soapbox have I found myself on Nau, you ask? Why, Nau of course! Nau is a clothing company that focuses on technical clothing that is fully functional from the mountain top to the social scene, yet maintains a fully ecofriendly presence.
From waterproof/breathable shells to reversible polos, the entire line is manufactured from natural materials or materials that have been and can be recycled and reused. Working hard with Japanese textile manufacturers, the line relies heavily on organic cotton, merino wool and recycled materials, such as polyesters that originally came from pop bottles and polymers synthesized from corn.
Based in Portland, Oregon, Nau was founded in 2005 by individuals with strong technical outdoor clothing experience. Their mission, to create sustainable gear that will last and perform in whatever situation presented. The original business model began with their line being offered in company stores and online.
In 2008 Nau had to close shop due to lack of monetary resources. While their retail locations shut down, they continued offering their gear online. Fortunately, a toad in shining armour came along and quickly acquired the brand and brought it back to life in record time.
Horny Toad's acquisition of Nau not only breathed new life into the company, but it provided the capital needed to continue to manufacture their high-end goods for the Fall 2008 clothing season. With the lack of brick and mortar company stores, they continued to sell items from the website as well as from select retail locations, such as Paragon Sports in New York City.
This evening I had the pleasure to interact with Nau and Horny Toad executives as they showcased the Spring 2009 line. Everything about the style and design was on point. Their organic cotton is incredibly soft due to the high quality of yarns used, the wool pieces were not scratchy at all, and their synthetic gear had the softest hand without the traditional crunchy noise of typical rain gear.
The only problem with the line is that I don't have enough money to buy it all! Which is tragic because god damn the clothes look nice. I don't know any homo that wouldn't be able to rock Nau and not look good! This, I swear, would turn any busted fool into someone you'd give a second look at -- only for the simple fact that his style is dumb fresh.
I know I was lookin' good... I had my Kenneth Cole shoes on... My Gianni Versace blue leather suit... My nails were done and my hair was fierce...
fully sustainable goods
and a perfect fit
Who's soapbox have I found myself on Nau, you ask? Why, Nau of course! Nau is a clothing company that focuses on technical clothing that is fully functional from the mountain top to the social scene, yet maintains a fully ecofriendly presence.
From waterproof/breathable shells to reversible polos, the entire line is manufactured from natural materials or materials that have been and can be recycled and reused. Working hard with Japanese textile manufacturers, the line relies heavily on organic cotton, merino wool and recycled materials, such as polyesters that originally came from pop bottles and polymers synthesized from corn.
Based in Portland, Oregon, Nau was founded in 2005 by individuals with strong technical outdoor clothing experience. Their mission, to create sustainable gear that will last and perform in whatever situation presented. The original business model began with their line being offered in company stores and online.
In 2008 Nau had to close shop due to lack of monetary resources. While their retail locations shut down, they continued offering their gear online. Fortunately, a toad in shining armour came along and quickly acquired the brand and brought it back to life in record time.
Horny Toad's acquisition of Nau not only breathed new life into the company, but it provided the capital needed to continue to manufacture their high-end goods for the Fall 2008 clothing season. With the lack of brick and mortar company stores, they continued to sell items from the website as well as from select retail locations, such as Paragon Sports in New York City.
This evening I had the pleasure to interact with Nau and Horny Toad executives as they showcased the Spring 2009 line. Everything about the style and design was on point. Their organic cotton is incredibly soft due to the high quality of yarns used, the wool pieces were not scratchy at all, and their synthetic gear had the softest hand without the traditional crunchy noise of typical rain gear.
The only problem with the line is that I don't have enough money to buy it all! Which is tragic because god damn the clothes look nice. I don't know any homo that wouldn't be able to rock Nau and not look good! This, I swear, would turn any busted fool into someone you'd give a second look at -- only for the simple fact that his style is dumb fresh.
I know I was lookin' good... I had my Kenneth Cole shoes on... My Gianni Versace blue leather suit... My nails were done and my hair was fierce...
sábado, abril 25, 2009
Dating.
folks get together
consume food and beverages
never speak again
I try to not date as often as most. In Homotopia the concept of seeing someone more than once is an idea that is not prevalent in the society. Whether it's spoken or not, the majority of us are just looking to get a nut and bounce.
Let's discuss that for a moment, getting a nut and bouncing. If you look good and they look good enough, all that's needed is a place to fuck. Conversation is usually at a minimum and any kind of social outing is virtually unheard of. (Yes, I've ended a sentence with a preposition, I am aware. Thanks!)
If the sex was good and they looked better than their pictures, you might contact them again, otherwise, well you've been there, the motherfucker is ghost. Why do we do what we do? Quite frankly because the next nigga look better than you or as good as you with a bigger dick. We, as denizens of Homotopia, are some of the most superficial and judgemental types of people that wander about and pollute this filthy cesspool of a celestial rock called Earth. From my tone, I gather that you can imagine where I'm coming from.
As an educated pseudo-Hispanic hybrid, I have been thru it quite a few times. I have no problem with "fuck and bounce", on the contrary I've become quite good at it. I understand the fundamentals and how to conduct oneself. Why then, when social outings are involved and the night ends with a sexual romp do I become confused?
Imagine, imagine for a moment that there is a horrible website out there that caters to those in Homotopia disguising itself as a networking community. (Yeah, I know, who the fuck am I kidding!) You begin talking to someone online -- someone you recognise from another location found online, but years back -- a location you would pay to access. Now as you're talking to him he seems down to earth and genuinely like someone you would like to get to know. You keep your knowledge of his sordid past to yourself because, really, who wants that brought up without it being awkward.
Days go by, you're still talking, and he suggests that you both go out for dinner, dinner and not a fuck. That's refreshing, you think he's not jus looking to bust and go. Pretty good, perhaps this might be a date, something you rarely do because of past experiences. The date is set and gears in motion.
That day, messages are exchanged to finalise plans and you decide to meet at The Den of Sin because it's happy hour. You get there and wait for him to arrive. He comes into the bar looking all fresh with nice eyes and your night begins.
At the bar a conversation ensues -- family life, dreams and aspirations, thoughts on homo relationships and how monogamy rarely works. Ideas that you yourself identify with.
The movie you were to see starts in a few hours, so you wrap up drinks and make for the restaurant. You get to a nice Italian place in Chelsea that he swears by. Coming from an Italian background, you know what it should and should not be, so as such, you're skeptical. As you're waiting for the food, conversation continues, the bottle of wine become half full, quarter full and then empty. Meanwhile his sister joins us at the end of dinner because she's in the area and wanted to say hello.
She's cool peoples and he's comfortable with family around you, so where is the train wreck? The evening seems to be going pretty good. Instead of going to the movies, he suggests that you make your way back to his place.
Perhaps this is the mistake I made -- should you sleep with someone on the first date?
Well after he failed to get his sister to go out, you all pile into the cab and make your way to his home. Kissing and touching began and one thing led to another. Everything seemed to flow. With no indication that there was a problem, you both get your nut and part ways.
Sounds nice, right? Let's throw in some crazy nut swapping and comments that basically would be found in some Latino Fan Club production that will never be produced because there was actual emotion behind it. How can it be that after a nice evening and some carnal sex, how could it be that everything was a mental construct in my head?
Could I seriously be that disillusioned -- could my ill-fated attempts at dating truly be a waste of time and effort?
I've yet to hear from him -- for better or otherwise. Some semblance of closure would be nice. I mean if you're not feeling me aiite, I had fun. If you are feeling me then what the fuck? I'm not mad, just a little confused.
It's times like this when I wish I could just settle for anything instead of looking for greener grass on the other side. I'm either going to go thru it, miserable and alone, or go thru it miserable and with someone next to me in bed.
"Of course you fuck on the first date! How else do you know if the second one is worth your time?!" ~ My Sophomore Roommate, Cam
consume food and beverages
never speak again
I try to not date as often as most. In Homotopia the concept of seeing someone more than once is an idea that is not prevalent in the society. Whether it's spoken or not, the majority of us are just looking to get a nut and bounce.
Let's discuss that for a moment, getting a nut and bouncing. If you look good and they look good enough, all that's needed is a place to fuck. Conversation is usually at a minimum and any kind of social outing is virtually unheard of. (Yes, I've ended a sentence with a preposition, I am aware. Thanks!)
If the sex was good and they looked better than their pictures, you might contact them again, otherwise, well you've been there, the motherfucker is ghost. Why do we do what we do? Quite frankly because the next nigga look better than you or as good as you with a bigger dick. We, as denizens of Homotopia, are some of the most superficial and judgemental types of people that wander about and pollute this filthy cesspool of a celestial rock called Earth. From my tone, I gather that you can imagine where I'm coming from.
As an educated pseudo-Hispanic hybrid, I have been thru it quite a few times. I have no problem with "fuck and bounce", on the contrary I've become quite good at it. I understand the fundamentals and how to conduct oneself. Why then, when social outings are involved and the night ends with a sexual romp do I become confused?
Imagine, imagine for a moment that there is a horrible website out there that caters to those in Homotopia disguising itself as a networking community. (Yeah, I know, who the fuck am I kidding!) You begin talking to someone online -- someone you recognise from another location found online, but years back -- a location you would pay to access. Now as you're talking to him he seems down to earth and genuinely like someone you would like to get to know. You keep your knowledge of his sordid past to yourself because, really, who wants that brought up without it being awkward.
Days go by, you're still talking, and he suggests that you both go out for dinner, dinner and not a fuck. That's refreshing, you think he's not jus looking to bust and go. Pretty good, perhaps this might be a date, something you rarely do because of past experiences. The date is set and gears in motion.
That day, messages are exchanged to finalise plans and you decide to meet at The Den of Sin because it's happy hour. You get there and wait for him to arrive. He comes into the bar looking all fresh with nice eyes and your night begins.
At the bar a conversation ensues -- family life, dreams and aspirations, thoughts on homo relationships and how monogamy rarely works. Ideas that you yourself identify with.
The movie you were to see starts in a few hours, so you wrap up drinks and make for the restaurant. You get to a nice Italian place in Chelsea that he swears by. Coming from an Italian background, you know what it should and should not be, so as such, you're skeptical. As you're waiting for the food, conversation continues, the bottle of wine become half full, quarter full and then empty. Meanwhile his sister joins us at the end of dinner because she's in the area and wanted to say hello.
She's cool peoples and he's comfortable with family around you, so where is the train wreck? The evening seems to be going pretty good. Instead of going to the movies, he suggests that you make your way back to his place.
Perhaps this is the mistake I made -- should you sleep with someone on the first date?
Well after he failed to get his sister to go out, you all pile into the cab and make your way to his home. Kissing and touching began and one thing led to another. Everything seemed to flow. With no indication that there was a problem, you both get your nut and part ways.
Sounds nice, right? Let's throw in some crazy nut swapping and comments that basically would be found in some Latino Fan Club production that will never be produced because there was actual emotion behind it. How can it be that after a nice evening and some carnal sex, how could it be that everything was a mental construct in my head?
Could I seriously be that disillusioned -- could my ill-fated attempts at dating truly be a waste of time and effort?
I've yet to hear from him -- for better or otherwise. Some semblance of closure would be nice. I mean if you're not feeling me aiite, I had fun. If you are feeling me then what the fuck? I'm not mad, just a little confused.
It's times like this when I wish I could just settle for anything instead of looking for greener grass on the other side. I'm either going to go thru it, miserable and alone, or go thru it miserable and with someone next to me in bed.
"Of course you fuck on the first date! How else do you know if the second one is worth your time?!" ~ My Sophomore Roommate, Cam
sábado, abril 18, 2009
domingo, abril 12, 2009
viernes, febrero 27, 2009
viernes, marzo 21, 2008
MTA.
in a subway car
we're going downtown express
but we're not moving
One of the largest mass-transit developments of all time has failed us. Regardless of how much fares might increase or the amount of track work done, nothing can fix the aling problems that plague the morning express service from the Bronx into Manhattan.
What has caused my fingers to move a mile a minute on a stalled train? To put it simply -- I am bored out of my fucking mind. I have been on this train since 9:15 am from 167 st in the Bronx. It is now a quarter to ten -- thirty minutes later -- and I am stuck on the express track at 103rd st.
The train announcer has come over the speaker and he tells a sordid tale about signal problems at 86th st. Tragic story, isn't it? It gets better though -- MTA "supervision" is aware of this. The real tragidy in this whole fiasco is Paragon supervision does not give a fuck. In reality, neither do I.
I need to clock in at my job in three minutes. Unless this is a magical train makes its next stop at the timeclock in the hallway, I don't think I will arrive at work until well after half past ten. I hope that there are other motherfuckers that work with me on this train so that I am not the only asshole with a sad tale of why I could not make it to my job when I was supposed to.
But back to those cocksuckers at the MTA!
I want to know 1) Why is there signal problems and what caused them... 2) Why hasn't this train been rerouted onto the local track -- from the sounds of it, it's running fine... 3) What's being done to prevent this from happening in the future... 4) If fares have been raised to better service, why has it gone to shit... and the last, and most important question, If the money didn't go into the train service, did it go into the pockets of the executives who raised the fares instead, and if it did, how can I swipe my metrocard to fuck them in the ass like they fucked me?
There is an automated announcement that periodically advises of train traffic ahead of me and that - should be patient. What would happen if we weren't patient? Suppose... just hypothetically... that the passengers in all cars rioted at the same time. Suppose... again, hypothetically... that the passengers manage to flip the cars onto their sides. Suppose... suppose that we destroyed the express line for the 4 train in such a rebellious way that now they had a good reason for service interruptions.
Oh dear, did I just print that online? That sounds like something that might, oh - I don't know, insight a riot? About fucking time. We sit (or stand) on this train, huddled together like cows to the slaughter, and all they can do is placate us with a bullshit announcement that does nothing. I still lost two dollars on this fateful voyage into the abyss of wasted time I still have to clock in late and miss out on valuable overtime pay. And above all, I will be late! This is the worst because they fire people over being late -- it's a daily thing!
10:00 hours and we have pulled into 86th st. To transfer to the 6 or not transfer to the 6 -- that is the question. Will a train making all local stops get me there sooner or should I stay put here? My job is but three stops away, on the express track, the six, god knows. I decided to stay put and hope for the best. It's usually my luck that leaves me taking the alternate route and the initial problem resolving itself with expediancy once I am removed from the equation. I am the remainder to your division problem, and the MTA is absolved of all wrong.
The joys of corporations running municipal utilities.
Vote YES for deregulation! Oxygen supplies limited, stagger your breaths!
we're going downtown express
but we're not moving
One of the largest mass-transit developments of all time has failed us. Regardless of how much fares might increase or the amount of track work done, nothing can fix the aling problems that plague the morning express service from the Bronx into Manhattan.
What has caused my fingers to move a mile a minute on a stalled train? To put it simply -- I am bored out of my fucking mind. I have been on this train since 9:15 am from 167 st in the Bronx. It is now a quarter to ten -- thirty minutes later -- and I am stuck on the express track at 103rd st.
The train announcer has come over the speaker and he tells a sordid tale about signal problems at 86th st. Tragic story, isn't it? It gets better though -- MTA "supervision" is aware of this. The real tragidy in this whole fiasco is Paragon supervision does not give a fuck. In reality, neither do I.
I need to clock in at my job in three minutes. Unless this is a magical train makes its next stop at the timeclock in the hallway, I don't think I will arrive at work until well after half past ten. I hope that there are other motherfuckers that work with me on this train so that I am not the only asshole with a sad tale of why I could not make it to my job when I was supposed to.
But back to those cocksuckers at the MTA!
I want to know 1) Why is there signal problems and what caused them... 2) Why hasn't this train been rerouted onto the local track -- from the sounds of it, it's running fine... 3) What's being done to prevent this from happening in the future... 4) If fares have been raised to better service, why has it gone to shit... and the last, and most important question, If the money didn't go into the train service, did it go into the pockets of the executives who raised the fares instead, and if it did, how can I swipe my metrocard to fuck them in the ass like they fucked me?
There is an automated announcement that periodically advises of train traffic ahead of me and that - should be patient. What would happen if we weren't patient? Suppose... just hypothetically... that the passengers in all cars rioted at the same time. Suppose... again, hypothetically... that the passengers manage to flip the cars onto their sides. Suppose... suppose that we destroyed the express line for the 4 train in such a rebellious way that now they had a good reason for service interruptions.
Oh dear, did I just print that online? That sounds like something that might, oh - I don't know, insight a riot? About fucking time. We sit (or stand) on this train, huddled together like cows to the slaughter, and all they can do is placate us with a bullshit announcement that does nothing. I still lost two dollars on this fateful voyage into the abyss of wasted time I still have to clock in late and miss out on valuable overtime pay. And above all, I will be late! This is the worst because they fire people over being late -- it's a daily thing!
10:00 hours and we have pulled into 86th st. To transfer to the 6 or not transfer to the 6 -- that is the question. Will a train making all local stops get me there sooner or should I stay put here? My job is but three stops away, on the express track, the six, god knows. I decided to stay put and hope for the best. It's usually my luck that leaves me taking the alternate route and the initial problem resolving itself with expediancy once I am removed from the equation. I am the remainder to your division problem, and the MTA is absolved of all wrong.
The joys of corporations running municipal utilities.
Vote YES for deregulation! Oxygen supplies limited, stagger your breaths!
sábado, agosto 25, 2007
Avalanche.
up in the mountains
screaming for all to hear you
causes snow to rush
Up, up, up the mountain!!
screaming for all to hear you
causes snow to rush
(game snatched from www.abcarcade.com)
Up, up, up the mountain!!
viernes, agosto 24, 2007
Seeking.
emails are sent out
like a steady flowing stream
but the fish don't bite
As my current job hunting letters have failed to produce any kind of result, I believe a new cover letter may be in order...
August 24, 2007
Dear Human Resources:
I saw your job post on craigslist for a Junior Account Executive. Against my better judgement I send you this reply, knowing that you aren't going to email me back or call to schedule an interview. I have a Bachelor of Science from Ithaca College -- it sits at home. I majored in Television & Radio and minored in Still Photography. My major concentration was Advertising & Public Relations.
If you find the time to review my CV you will notice that I do not have any internships or marketable job experience. This is true, but I have years of activism and student government experience, I have run for public office as an endorsed candidate and was invited to Fordham University by Hector the Magic Spic to present my photographs to his group -- aside from sitting behind that computer screen avoiding this response, what have you done for your common man? Right, just as I thought, keep him down.
I have worked in many retail locations and quickly rose to management. I have great team-working skills, can follow direction, work alone and I can even shuck and jive. I have survived hurricanes and frequent air travel. I have the ability to seduce you online in hood Spanish. There has never been a new skill that I couldn't master in a short time span, so that proprietary software you're running -- I got that in the bag already.
I know you aren't interested in my CV so instead I have attached a picture of my ass. In the event that you don't wish to offer me a job, feel free to print out the picture of my ass and give it a big ol' kiss. However, if you would like to offer me a job, save that picture in a secret place and keep that in the back of your mind when it comes time for bargaining for vacation time.
Thank you for getting this far in this email and may you have a blessed day.
Sincerely,
Chulo Rodriguez, M.D.
All a man got is his balls and his word... and I don't break those for nobody...
like a steady flowing stream
but the fish don't bite
As my current job hunting letters have failed to produce any kind of result, I believe a new cover letter may be in order...
August 24, 2007
Dear Human Resources:
I saw your job post on craigslist for a Junior Account Executive. Against my better judgement I send you this reply, knowing that you aren't going to email me back or call to schedule an interview. I have a Bachelor of Science from Ithaca College -- it sits at home. I majored in Television & Radio and minored in Still Photography. My major concentration was Advertising & Public Relations.
If you find the time to review my CV you will notice that I do not have any internships or marketable job experience. This is true, but I have years of activism and student government experience, I have run for public office as an endorsed candidate and was invited to Fordham University by Hector the Magic Spic to present my photographs to his group -- aside from sitting behind that computer screen avoiding this response, what have you done for your common man? Right, just as I thought, keep him down.
I have worked in many retail locations and quickly rose to management. I have great team-working skills, can follow direction, work alone and I can even shuck and jive. I have survived hurricanes and frequent air travel. I have the ability to seduce you online in hood Spanish. There has never been a new skill that I couldn't master in a short time span, so that proprietary software you're running -- I got that in the bag already.
I know you aren't interested in my CV so instead I have attached a picture of my ass. In the event that you don't wish to offer me a job, feel free to print out the picture of my ass and give it a big ol' kiss. However, if you would like to offer me a job, save that picture in a secret place and keep that in the back of your mind when it comes time for bargaining for vacation time.
Thank you for getting this far in this email and may you have a blessed day.
Sincerely,
Chulo Rodriguez, M.D.
All a man got is his balls and his word... and I don't break those for nobody...
jueves, agosto 16, 2007
Stupid.
i spread my legs wide
let a nigga bust in me
now he dun want me
No, I am not talking about myself in the haiku. That one is for the thousands of knocked up hoes nation-wide that continue to give birth to children who were fathered by scandalous, ratty ass, go no where, mama's boy type-a-niggas. And the best part -- the bitches gone knew that he was like that when they started to fuck around. He has two other baby's mamas (which I'll have you know, is now part of a family structure... dad, girlfriend, baby's mama...) and the stupid bitch think that because she came into the picture this motherfucker gon change? Bitch out her damn mind.
I found this new website that is quite entertaining. It's called "Don't Date Him Girl" and while some of these warnings are legit, there are countless stories of bitches who have been left high and dry with bastard children looking for child support. Whatever your objections to abortion are, hopefully you will have objections with this as well. Not only are these hoes engaging in premarital sex (also a sin), but they're not using any kind of contraceptive method (which is stupid), they see that a motherfucker already got kids that he dun support and he treats women like shit. I mean if that doesn't scream get the fuck away from a nigga right away, I don't know what does! These bitches be stuck on some low-life dick like flies to paper. I don't understand it!
Granted, some of these guys might look good -- you know, in that ghetto, baggy clothes, wanna-be-thug, cornbread eating kinda way. But when does the brain kick in and say "¡Peligro! ¡Peligro, Will Robinson!". Take some responsibility for yourselves bitches! You KNEW he was gonna bounce on you and you went and got knocked up anyway! You KNEW he ain't be supporting the other children he already has! You KNEW that there was, in no way, any kind of hope for the relationship since he was living with his mother and ain't graduate from high school or even have a car (beat down or otherwise).
What were you thinking?
Now you sit, child attached to your left titty and you lookin for yo check?! You cry, "Woe is me, that nigga ain't want me or my bastard kid!" Bitch please, stop lookin' for the nigga to turn around and give a shit -- he don't -- he's not gonna. Your stupid ass gone let him fuck you with no condom -- your stupid ass got knocked up -- your stupid ass gone AND HAD THE BASTARD CHILD -- and now, after your stupid ass gone and done all that -- your stupid ass still lookin' for the motherfuckin' deadbeat to grow up and act like he gives a shit! (Well, I'll have you know, he does not!)
It's because of dumb bitches like this that I advocate for mandatory licensing for all live births. You did not pass the test and receive a license, then you do not pass Go, collect $200 or give birth! Shit, that would curb overpopulation right there! Let these bitches be responsible for something -- responsible for taking the child preparedness exam!
Today on Oprah, we discuss how Shaqwanda gone and got knocked up after an orgy with Tyrell and his six friends he plays football with...
let a nigga bust in me
now he dun want me
No, I am not talking about myself in the haiku. That one is for the thousands of knocked up hoes nation-wide that continue to give birth to children who were fathered by scandalous, ratty ass, go no where, mama's boy type-a-niggas. And the best part -- the bitches gone knew that he was like that when they started to fuck around. He has two other baby's mamas (which I'll have you know, is now part of a family structure... dad, girlfriend, baby's mama...) and the stupid bitch think that because she came into the picture this motherfucker gon change? Bitch out her damn mind.
I found this new website that is quite entertaining. It's called "Don't Date Him Girl" and while some of these warnings are legit, there are countless stories of bitches who have been left high and dry with bastard children looking for child support. Whatever your objections to abortion are, hopefully you will have objections with this as well. Not only are these hoes engaging in premarital sex (also a sin), but they're not using any kind of contraceptive method (which is stupid), they see that a motherfucker already got kids that he dun support and he treats women like shit. I mean if that doesn't scream get the fuck away from a nigga right away, I don't know what does! These bitches be stuck on some low-life dick like flies to paper. I don't understand it!
Granted, some of these guys might look good -- you know, in that ghetto, baggy clothes, wanna-be-thug, cornbread eating kinda way. But when does the brain kick in and say "¡Peligro! ¡Peligro, Will Robinson!". Take some responsibility for yourselves bitches! You KNEW he was gonna bounce on you and you went and got knocked up anyway! You KNEW he ain't be supporting the other children he already has! You KNEW that there was, in no way, any kind of hope for the relationship since he was living with his mother and ain't graduate from high school or even have a car (beat down or otherwise).
What were you thinking?
Now you sit, child attached to your left titty and you lookin for yo check?! You cry, "Woe is me, that nigga ain't want me or my bastard kid!" Bitch please, stop lookin' for the nigga to turn around and give a shit -- he don't -- he's not gonna. Your stupid ass gone let him fuck you with no condom -- your stupid ass got knocked up -- your stupid ass gone AND HAD THE BASTARD CHILD -- and now, after your stupid ass gone and done all that -- your stupid ass still lookin' for the motherfuckin' deadbeat to grow up and act like he gives a shit! (Well, I'll have you know, he does not!)
It's because of dumb bitches like this that I advocate for mandatory licensing for all live births. You did not pass the test and receive a license, then you do not pass Go, collect $200 or give birth! Shit, that would curb overpopulation right there! Let these bitches be responsible for something -- responsible for taking the child preparedness exam!
Today on Oprah, we discuss how Shaqwanda gone and got knocked up after an orgy with Tyrell and his six friends he plays football with...
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