deflated crybaby... dizzee rascal... despicable humans

This weekend was like all the rest, all the time. I'm bored as all fuck. I'm so bored that I'm bored with myself. Any y'all niggaz feelin this?

--

yoda vs. the emperor

--

My friend at work sent me a pic from the photo shoot she was in for some local band she knows called royce. she's the dark haired principle above that punk ass in the tub. what's up with that girl sitting on the floor in the shower? what the fuck is going on in the motherfuckin amateur photography scene?

--

Friday Rick and Heather were over with Andy and we played 90 minutes of intense foosball. Rick kept winning and becoming more and more of an asshole as the night went on. some people cannot handle their foosball domination with subtlety or class.

I could tell that Heather was getting happier and happier to see Rick destroy Andy and then turn around and quickly waste me. It pissed me off that he was receiving positive reinforcement for this type of obnoxious behavior. I decided that Rick had to be taken down a level, so I made him smoke this shit while I sipped an Old Style tall boy and never broke eye contact when I approached the table to pummel Rick and end his reign of obscenities and bravado.

10 minutes, 10 points later Rick was a pissy, deflated crybaby.
That's to teach you, Rick.
Motherfucker.

We went to this fucking godawful bar down the street called The Rail. It was late and the stupid waitress gave us menus. I ordered a stella and wanted appetizers. We all wanted appetizers. We each chose one and decided that we would each order one, and that we were going to be polite and share. The stupid waitress came back and told us that the kitchen was closed... even though the fucking sign outside said that the kitchen is open late. Can you see why I fucking hate this place? We told her that we wanted the bill, and we got the fuck out of there.

We went to this greasy spoon that pretty much sucks called Le Sabre. It was bar time, and there was a couple sitting in the booth next to us, so that I was facing the girl, and Rick and Heather were sitting back to back with her date. It was around 2:30 in the morning, and they were talking about the safest, most random still-getting-to-know-you bullshit that people would be talking about on a first date that's not really going anywhere. You have a really good idea if a first date is going well within an hour or two (and if it's going well, I'm sure as fuck not stuck in a dead conversation about a jam recipe in the middle of the night, I'm showing the girl that I like her).

I think that they were on an internet date because they didn't seem to know the first thing about each other. Oh well, none of us were getting laid that night... except maybe Rick, because of his foosball reign earlier in the night... that son of a bitch.

--

Saturday I met up with my sister and her friend Heidi and this fuckwad that Heidi invited out named Matthew. My sister and Heidi are college friends, and Matthew is one of Heidi's old roommates from New Orleans. I think that Heidi hooked up with Matthew before because Matthew was all about pushing it.

I met up with this crew around five o'clock. They'd already been out for the afternoon, and I was just catching on to the crazy train. I hated Matthew right away. He started out by making some comment about staying over at my sister's place, with her, in her bed. He looked at me and started to laugh saying he was "sorry." I cut that shit down immediately when I pushed my new pint of stella over, lip first towards Matthew and spilled a pint off the table and onto Matthew's crotch. I said I was sorry. The motherfucker knew it was intentional, and that it was on if he wanted to fuck with me.

Heidi lives in Africa and works for the UN, so she's only in the states every 9 months or so. The last time that matthew was supposed to meet up with Heidi -- in Paris -- she cancelled a day before the trip, and Matthew had to pay a $200 cancellation fee.

Yeah, that sucks, but... the pussy could've gone anyways. He had the trip planned out, he had the money saved and waiting, and he knew where they were going and what they were seeing. But he pussied out, and several months later made a lot of noise about how Heidi was paying off the debt during the day out. That was super annoying. What made it even a bit more embarrassing was that he was trying to fuck her.

A party fell through and I suggested Dizzee Rascal at the Double Door. Heidi flipped because Dizzee Rascal is fucking huge in Europe and parts of Africa. Matthew agreed because he said that he had read a mention about the show in the Red Eye. I called the Double Door to secure tickets and the door guy told me that there'd be no problem walking up and getting in.

We took a cab over, Matthew was beginning to whine because he hadn't had a real chance to change his pants. We told him that we were running late to the show, and that we didn't have time for him to change his pants at his shithole bug infested no cable TV studio apartment reserved for poor people. I told Matthew to get into the cab and to close the door.

There was 15 people in line, 12 wearing hoodies. We got inside and I got real excited real fast when they charged me $4 for a red bull and skyy vodka. Red bull and vodka is gasoline. It's unnatural. It promotes time travel. I found Matthew standing in front of the stage with Heidi and my sister. They were taken care of, drinking raspberry stolis. I decided to go sneak a quick smoke in the men's room. Tonight was going to be a long winded process of finishing a red bull and vodka followed by breaking through the crowd to the bar for another red bull and vodka followed by sneaking a quick smoke in the men's room followed by a piss and breaking my way through the crowd, back to the spot in the center of the floor.

Dizzee Rascal was off the fucking hook.

There was a good number of beautiful 25 year olds in attendance... that's my new crowd. I go six years younger these days. I decided to create some uncomfortable fun just before (and then again after) Dizzee went on stage by approaching men my sister was staring at and introducing them to her. Every guy I walked up to was spooked when I said "Hey! Yes! You! Come here! What's your name?" they'd reply with a meek little voice and I say, "OK _name_, this is my sister." then I'd walk away to find some fine young canibal for my sister to introduce me to. It was up to her to make something happen (nothing was happening).

Dizzee was starting to finish up, and so some crazy bitch in brown cowboy boots, a pink tutu, baby girl dress and messed up doggie style blonde hair pushed past my sister and said "move, cunt." My sister said "what the fuck?" And I watched and waited for the crazy bitch to circle back. When she did I tripped into her, spilling some of my drink on her dress and stabbed a lit cigarette onto her hand shouting "sorry" over the boom beats on the sound system. Her male friend made a move like he was going to intervene, so I looked through him like I was about to take him apart, and I started to move closer. Predictably, he just grabbed her forearm and moved away. Direct eye contact avoids violence 80% of the time in white culture.

When went over to the Pontiac Cafe for a drink, but it was nearing the end of the night, and Matthew was becoming unacceptible, so I showed him the backseat of a cab. My sister, Heidi and I took a cab back to my place and I passed out.

Sunday I saw that ENRON movie. I think that there are three or four white men walking around right now that would be fucking dead if they didn't have millions of dollars worth of professional security protecting their ass of the legions of workers these men stole hundreds of millions of dollars from.

Kenneth Lay - CEO, Jeffrey Skilling - COO, Andrew Fastow - CFO and an Asian gentleman who favors strippers and making off with $200 million basically worked off of this model where they cooked the books to record projected earnings as actual earnings.

This scam goes on for awhile. Fastow begins to create bullshit business ventures so that he can funnel money into that company's account, PLUS take a commission... he makes off with around $200 million. Skilling resigns about 4 months before the crash, and someone asks Lay during a meeting near the end "do you smoke crack?"

The movie shows how energy traders were able to create the rolling blackouts in California to milk the state by having the energy powerhouses shut down for a couple hours... over a simple recorded phone call.

In the end, the top brass at enron drain the retirement savings of all of their employees... and keep telling them "don't worry about your 401K! keep investing!" while they are selling off the soon to be worthless stock for top dollar.

If there is a Hell, these despicable humans belong there.