Hey, We Are Over Here Now!

Hey reader...or readers! I've decided to move the blog over to a new site. Main reason, I started to notice that typecasting the blog as simply humor was sometimes limiting my material, since there are many other things I could have written without having to rely humor. I'm not saying those stories are sad or anything, it's just that there's no need for humor in certain stories or I'm just in the mood of sharing things I've actually learned in life (to somehow give the blog's title a literal meaning for once).

So I'm gonna drop the link to the new blog here, and I hope to see you guys over there. All the humor will still be there, but it won't be the only thing now.

New Site: http://lrod323.wordpress.com/

Fish Guts

Out of all the crazy stories I've told over the years, I still can't believe I haven't told the one where Ace almost got stabbed in college. That's right, stabbed. Well, you're probably wondering what could have caused this crazy scenario. I did too because as usual, I'm always missing those things when they happened. Given, I was only a few minutes away while it was happening.

So what did happen, you ask? Easy. Those who have read some of my previous stories before know that Ace can be quite the charmer with the ladies (even when it's not his intention). So you probably are already starting to connect the dots. A regular casanova being the victim of an almost-stabbing incident? Yes!

A few months before the event, a particular girl in college had a falling out with Ace for reasons unknown to me. All I know is that they apparently went out a few times but it went nowhere. Now, add to the equation said girl's new angry boyfriend and an issue where that same girl was getting harassed by a former lover, and you have the perfect recipe for disaster.

Angry boyfriend quickly learned of Ace's existence and went down to hunt him down in the middle of the day, sorta like a bad bounty hunter. Meanwhile, Ace was just minding his business playing cards. And that's when the whole thing exploded. Suddenly, the bounty hunter entered our hangout spot and quickly called Ace out. After finding him, he grabbed him by the shirt collar and started the threaten him. The main threat, of course, was that he would gut him like a fish.

He was one angry dude!

I don't know if he had a knife on him or not, but I was told everyone was just paralyzed with shock. So for one, Ace was down sh*t's creek without a paddle. And that's when the bounty hunter's girlfriend showed up.

"I got the guy who's making your life hell!" he told her.

"Umm..." she said with some difficulty. "That's not him."

"What?"

"You got the wrong guy. Ace didn't do anything."

He let Ace go and gave him a pat on the back as he introduced himself. "Hey man," he said. "Sorry for the whole mess. But still, I would have gutted you like a fish if you were the right guy." And with that, they both left.

About a minute or two later, I arrive to find the whole place a bit odd. I look at Ace and he's got those eyes that tell "sh*t just went down." Once again, I had realized I had missed another story worthy event where I could have done something.

I blame Math 102 for it.

Being a Voter is Annoying!

Well, I gotta say I've had yet another first in my list of experiences. Today marked the first time I voted (at 25, one would think I would have done so before). Even stranger, my first time was in a place foreign to me. I didn't even bother to vote back when I was living in Puerto Rico. And suddenly, Pennsylvania has somehow made me go "sure, why not?" I really don't dig too much into politics, but I've always wanted to vote for a president (since we can't back home for some reason).

But this post today isn't about the whole political game or whatnot. Rather, it's do vent on how annoying it is to be a voter in both Puerto Rico and Pennsylvania. I got some observations from both now that I can say I've seen how it works on both ends of the spectrum.

First off, political campaigns at home can only be described in two simple words: F*CKING LOUD! There's so much noise that it has to be considered bad for the environment. Why? Well, every single candidate and their mother (do they really?) go out in loud caravans (trying to find the right word, but it's like a little mini parade for each candidate) and block every single road imaginable while making the most irritating amounts of noise. Gotta say, I've been stuck in traffic quite a few times thanks to those guys, so it can get irritating when you mix a lot of hostile drivers with that.

Secondly, people back home see politics like Americans love the NFL or baseball. It's a sacred sport and has caused quite a bit of trouble. Picture it this way. I would obviously get the living daylights beat out of me in Boston if I'm caught wearing my Yankees jersey, same thing at home but this time it's a tale of Red vs Blue. You have no idea how many brawls have broken out just because people are on different sides.

I disagree with your political views, my good sir.

But mostly, it's all about the noise. And speaking of noise, that brings me to the other side of the spectrum, Pennsylvania. In here it's been nothing but silence. While there haven't been any parades, caravans, or any other word for it, there has been a sweet silence. However, that silence is all gone once you turn on the radio or the TV. Back home it's the same, but you still get the noise outside the house. At least in here I can avoid all those negative ads by just staying away from my TV. Gotta say, those ads have made me miss even the dumbest of commercials.

Boy, do those ads annoy the hell out of me! I mean, every five seconds there's an attack ad. At this point, all I can think are about how much more dirt do they need to dig on someone? And that's when I had a few ideas:

-"X Candidate has a dog, and dogs lead to communism. Don't let X take away your rights!"
-"Y Candidate hunts bald eagles for sport, and that means he hates America!"
-"X was once seen wearing a Germany jersey during the World Cup. He's a nazi!"
-"Y once said a curse word in the 5th grade! Do you want someone like that leading your country?"
-"If X wins the election, the world will be driven into total chaos!"
-"If Y wins the election, it will ignite World War III"

At the end of the day, my brain has had enough.

Seriously, it's like watching kids pick on each other at times. At first it's fun to watch, but then it just makes your brain send signals to shut down your whole body! So no matter on what part of the world, elections can be quite annoying. The only difference is where the noise is distributed. Some are noisier than others while others are downright nasty. Oh wait, that's everywhere.

Good thing I already voted and got that all out of my system. Now, I wonder what we will do with all those political signs once tomorrow comes? Perhaps we can build a boat with them? That would be fun.

Halloween Walk of Shame

In the spirit of Halloween, I figured I would repost a funny anecdote from last year's Halloween which had me both scratching my head and holding back my laughter. Nothing really much happened this year, so I figured I would once again share this story for those who didn't get to read it last year.

What, you thought going to costume parties, dressing up, and going trick or treat were the only things happening on Halloween? Well, think again!

On an episode of How I Met Your Mother, it was explained that Halloween also has what is known as the "Walk of Shame." So what does this consist of and why am I plugging one of my favorite shows? Simple.

I now have my own "Walk of Shame" story to elaborate on, and can now confirm the reality of this tradition. First off, this event needs a definition:

When you emerge from a guy's house wearing the same Halloween costume you partied in the night before reeking of booze, sweat, and maybe pumpkins- all in good fun from the night before. And unlike the normal walk of shame... you cannot hide in your halloween costume.

So there it is, a clear definition to the "Walk of Shame." Now then, off to my story...

My dog wakes me up at roughly 6am, normal time for the little guy to tell me to take him to his outdoor toilet. So I go to the elevator and catch a ride down. But suddenly, the elevator stops a few floors below and I quickly begin to wonder. "Who would wake up this early on a Sunday morning? Perhaps other dogs needed to take a dump this early too. Maybe someone works early today."

And then I see the person walking in. A girl more or less in her early 20's, I would say. She entered dressed in a cat dress, but it looked rather trampy. I quickly noticed the painted whiskers were almost done, by sweat I assumed. Not just that, but she had a look on her face that can only be described as shame and disappointment. She just looked at the floor, not even recognizing my dog's awesome cuteness.

The elevator opens at the lobby and she quickly walks towards the front gate. As she makes the trip, I realize she isn't a resident at the building I'm living in since she's got no key. That's when the episode from HIMYM came to my mind. And in seconds, I realized I was witnessing a "Halloween Walk of Shame." She walks out the front gate and just wanders off into the next street, no car noise or anything to indicate how she vanished. But I know this, she walked away shamefully as my dog took a piss on a car tire.

I wonder how many more flooded the streets in their costumed shame...

Frankenstorm

Alright, so I finally manage to get back to this blog after a week's worth of recovery from the surgery (which sucks because all the pain kicks in late), suddenly to realize there's a super massive storm headed our way. Now, I'm no stranger to storms or hurricanes (being from the tropics might have something to do with it), but there's something about what they are calling a "Perfect Storm" that is causing some worry.

For one, I've never been through a so called perfect storm (despite witnessing hurricane Hugo and Georges in the early and mid 90's) and the thought of one outside my own tropical environment does worry me a bit. Secondly, there might be snow. Anybody who knows me knows that I cannot stand snow. So there's that. And thirdly, if it's a perfect storm, where the heck is George Clooney?

One thing that is tickling my funny bone through all this is the fact that they called it "Frankenstorm." We get it, it comes around during halloween. I would like to know who had the nerve to give it that name, because you know what? It works! It's a storm that comes during halloween! It's a crime not to call it anything other than Frankenstorm. So kudos to the person who came up with the title, because it's quite amusing.

It's alive!

But still, storms are nothing to be taken lightly. Take it from someone who knows a thing or two about them. So for my readers in the east coast (wait, I'm there too!) make sure to clean up your yards and everything, because chances are that your loose stuff will be sent out flying like a drunk missile doing its halloween walk of shame. Most of all, stay informed and don't panic.

I should be back to blogging in my normal capacity this week, especially since my side effects of the surgery are winding down. However, let's hope Frankenstorm doesn't prevent me from getting back again.

Bad Wisdom

Oral deuchebags, these wisdom teeth are.

That's right, it's that kind of wisdom. Tomorrow will be my turn to get my wisdom teeth removed. I swear, those little suckers are like ninjas. You don't know they are there, but suddenly they sneak up on you and kick your ass. Lucky for me, they are still just lying in wait, but I was advised to get them removed before they strike.

It's kind of funny when I think of it. Teeth that somehow go rogue and just want to mess with the rest. I keep thinking of the class clown when it comes to this. They joke around and get a pass, but there comes a time when they need to get knocked out. So I'm just happy I'm gonna shut the clown up before he pulls out a prank (and why did I just assume my wisdom teeth were all male?).

The one thing I'm not looking forward to is looking like a chipmunk. I was told I would look a bit swollen after the procedure, so I just hope I don't look like I'm packing nuts in my mouth. Yes, take your time laughing if you found my comment to somehow be wrong. Are you done? Good. Don't worry, I laughed too when I found myself saying it too.

You just turned this into a ball joke. Feeling proud?

The Night The Sky Exploded

I believe this was back in 2009, but this is a story that takes place in the very middle of the night. Normally, I'm the kind of person who goes to sleep extremely early. However, that was the night I turned nocturnal for most of it.

As I was sleeping soundly, I suddenly felt a door shut and dismissed it as just minor. Seconds later, my best friend, Ace, calls me at 1am yelling at the top of his lungs.

"What do you want?" I say as I'm waking up.

"It's the end of the world! There was this big explosion, and the sky is on fire!"

"If it were the end of the world, why the hell would you wake me up?" I replied.

"You got to believe me! There's this big ball of fire, and it's a mess everywhere. The sky is burning up!" he continued.

If I were awake, I would have noticed something was odd about this. Not because of the big fireball burning in the sky, but the fact that he was speaking clearly. For you see, my best friend stutters often when he speaks. His level of fear was so intense, he didn't stutter a single time. But sleepy me didn't notice it.

"Go look at the window," he said.

I stood up and walked towards it. "I will bet nobody is outside," I said as I opened the window.

"Odd..."

"What?" he said.

"There's people pointing at the sky."

I walked out of the house and stood in the middle of the street as I looked up at the sky, realizing there was a giant fireball up there.

"The sky is on fire. Who knew?" I said, oblivious to the situation. And right there, I woke up.

What I think my face looked like when I discovered the fireball.

That's when I realized what was going on. I quickly hung up on my friend to check up on everyone else and make sure they were fine. Not many answered, but my buddy Johnny did pick up.

"Go see the sky," I said.

"Why?"

"It's on fire! You gotta see this!"

"I don't believe you," he replied.

"Would I call you in the middle of the night to tell you the sky is on fire just to get some laughs? I'm serious."

He stepped out of the house, keeping silent for a few seconds. When all of a sudden I hear him taking a large gasp on the phone.

"I stayed behind!" he yelled, thinking he got left behind in the rapture.

"It's not the rapture, you fool," I said. "There's been an explosion and I'm just making sure everyone's fine."

The real cause of that night's "Armageddon."

He hung up as I heard him begin to yell in paranoia. Turns out, there was an explosion at an oil refinery nearby and the entire area woke up due to the massive blast. But of course, none of us knew that right away.

As for me, I spent the rest of the night calming both friends. Both thought it was the end of the world, and I had to convince them otherwise. What a night it was...

Sick Week

I don't know why, but for some reason I just had to get really sick this week (hence no posts). Normally, I can just shrug it off and move on. But this time it was different, I was out cold for days. Even at work I kinda seemed like a zombie (with an allergy problem instead). However, now that I've recovered most of my energy, I have blogged to show I'm still alive (and no longer under any "quil" medication or sleeping like a bear).

Three hours? Try a week!

I do feel a bit bad that I couldn't do any posts because I was so sick, especially once I realized today was Friday. So I thought of a story I could tell that related to me being sick (hence the topic of the week), and I just managed to remind myself of one just as I'm writing this (no joke, I just came up with this now).

This is the story (or pseudo story) of my strange habit of getting sick the last day of a geek convention my friends and I went to back in 2007. The convention ran from Friday to Sunday, so we all gathered up money to get a hotel room and make sure to be there for the entire weekend. We didn't want to miss any of the festivities, after all. However, Sunday morning was a bit different for me. I look out the window to see everyone leaving, packing up their gear, and closing shop. Everything on the convention market was on sale, the last activities were closing up, and everyone was going home. And for some reason, it made me sick (literally, I got nausea that morning).

I was also quite dizzy from the nausea.

It's kind of funny to see everyone all sad leaving the convention and you can't join them because you're too busy trying not to vomit on the hallway for some reason. I have no idea how it came about, but I was the only one waking up sick. Everyone else seemed fine. That's what really confused me the most. And yet, I managed to recover after paying a visit to a few restrooms (both from hotels and Burger King while we were picking up breakfast). And once my insides were empty, we all went home and my insides were back to normal.

It's kind of funny that exactly a year later, it happened once again on the last day of that year's convention too. Everyone kind of expected it, for some reason. Guess it made a lasting impression.

When I Was A Mexican

It was about mid September 2006, I had just gotten into a university in Jersey. I was practically new to living in America, having spent all my life in the island of Puerto Rico. My English is pretty good, so I blended in with the crowd because I had no accent. But one day, I began to learn of a certain stereotype placed on us Hispanic people. That we are all Mexican in the eyes of Americans, why exactly? Who knows. But this did not bother me, until I began to talk to a certain classmate from my math class.

I will never forget this conversation, for it was going to be the first of many I was going to encounter here. We just left the last class, having found a common interest in Japanese animation, we began to chat about certain series we both like and all that. The conversation went smoothly until he asked me where I was from. I immediately told him I was Puerto Rican, and yet, in his eyes I could see a sign of small confusion. I was hoping he would know where it was. Sure it’s a small island on the Caribbean Sea, but its not hard to find. And without a moment’s hesitation, he belted out the response I would soon become familiar with, “so how far from Cancun is that?” I began to look confused, as though he wanted to know how far the island was, but I continued on. “What do you mean how far from Cancun is it?” I asked.

“You know, how far from Cancun is Puerto Rico?”

“Very far” I replied trying to hold my anger inside.

“But aren’t you Mexican?”

Please, señor, learn your geography!

I quickly decided to play along, just to see how far I can go until he realizes that I’m making up a story. So I decided to give it a shot, and with one simple answer, it began. “Yes, I am Mexican.” I said. And so, I began to tell a story from the top of my head, wishing he would catch on to the fact I was going to make this stuff up from now on.

I began to tell him on how I lived in Puerto Rico with my brother Jose, my cousin Jesus, and my friend Ernesto. We lived in the “Mexican city of Puerto Rico”, you know, right next to the cities of Cancun and Mexico City. He just kept nodding, listening to my story. So far, he bought it all. So I continued. My brother and I wanted to look for jobs, but I also wanted an education in English. We all set out with my cousin Chewie, that’s what we called our cousin Jesus, and our friend Ernesto. I was the only one who spoke the best English in the group, followed by my brother and my friend Ernesto. Poor Chewie had little English experience.

So anyways, we set off from Puerto Rico to go up north to America. Of course, we made our way up north to the border. On the way there, my friend Ernesto began to wonder what we were going to do.

“Hey, how are we going to get past La Migra?” he asked.

“Simple my friend,” I continued, “we run fast, you know, just like the other Mexicans on the television.”

“So we just try to run like on Cops?”

“Exactamente!”

And halfway through it all, my cousin Chewie got all confused in our planning. “Oye, que pasa?” I quickly ran the directions by him, having my brother explain the whole thing to him in Spanish.

I took a break from the story to check up on how my classmate here, understood the story. He looked a bit confused, but still believing my story. So now that I had him hooked, I just had to reel him in for the finishing move. I was going to begin to stretch it in a way I never have before. This is where my improvised storytelling was going to take place. I wanted to make it sound so surreal, so extremely fictional, that he would have to realize that being Mexican and being Puerto Rican are two completely different things, to make him have the idea of same race, different nationality. So here I went, with nothing to lose, I decided to go overboard with my storytelling.

It was finally time to cross the border; there were the troopers and guards guarding the gigantic gate. We grabbed some straws and swam all the way across until finally arriving in American soil. The guards did not know of our escape, at least not until cousin Chewie hurt his leg while running, letting out a loud cry that echoed everywhere. “Coño! Mi pie!” he screamed. And with that, the guards quickly were on to us. We were running as fast as we could, almost like the Road Runner. We had La Migra on to us like the coyote, as we continued to foil him with cheap ACME products. So there we were, trying to outrun the border patrol. We all ran really fast, trying to reach a faraway train station that lead to the northern states. The guards were almost near us, we could see them flinging the handcuffs in the air. They were all dressed in black, like white ninjas swinging the nun chucks of migrating justice. I could smell hamburgers, the foods we only dreamt of eating. American cuisine.

We got on the train, sneaking into the carts through the windows. Finally, we were free. We have left Mexico and gone to America. And now we have found jobs, and finally found the universities we wanted.

My classmate had a face reflecting the confusion upon my story. I think he was finally on to me, he realized I’m not what he thought I was. “Fine, you’re not a Mexican, sorry for the assumption” he said. I finally smiled, extending my hand in a gesture of friendship. Obviously, he got the joke and didn’t feel offended, but before it was over he belted out another question. “So what part of South America is Puerto Rico in?” he rudely asked. And right there, I quickly knew it was going to be a long day.

Ace Shenanigans

Ever since I moved to Pennsylvania, all the silly stuff has now been happening to Ace instead of me. I swear, I will eventually have to tell all of his stories because I'm not getting any new ones on my end (just old ones I'm trying to build).

Maybe this was his plan. Realize that silly stuff is no longer happening to me and now he can be the main character.

Touche.

The Psycho, The Cake, And The Conclusion

So where was I? Oh yes, Ace and Cake had an enraged ex out to get them. That sounds about right. Not just that, but my paranoia was still going nuts. However, the weeks would pass and not a single incident would be reported. It probably remained calm for about a month, but as usual, it couldn't stay peaceful for much longer.

One day, upon returning from one of my classes, I find Ace walking around in frustration. As it turns out, the furious ex showed up at the university to confront them and nobody backed him up. But before I could get a glimpse of where he was, he had vanished.

I always miss the interesting parts when I'm in class, but when I'm free barely anything happens.

A few nights later, the enraged ex would strike again. And what a way to do so, especially since Ace woke me up in the middle of the night for it.

"Dude," he said. "Guess what?"

"It's the middle of the night, what can I possibly guess?"

"I'm surrounded by cops! Turns out, the crazy ex came following me as soon as we finished in court!"

This is how I imagined it as he narrated the events to me.

"So let me get this right. You call me late at night to tell me there's a crazy guy out to get you and you got cops all over the place? What kind of crazy person does that?"

"I know, right? He's going nuts."

"Not him, you idiot. You. You wake me up and then tell me all this stuff? I'm already freaking out over here!"

"Don't worry, I'm good."

Those weeks that followed were a roller coaster. I refused to leave Ace alone because he always seemed to get in trouble when I wasn't around. Not only that, Cake and Ace had begun to grow apart at this point. The whole thing was like some sort of mad circus. Enraged psychopaths, a couple who suddenly won't stop bickering, and the paranoid best friend who needed to keep his buddy from getting stabbed at the lunch table.

However, things would soon come back to normal. The psychopath would eventually stop chasing Ace (perhaps the cops finally got him?), so my relaxation levels were back to normal. However, Ace would soon show up at my house with a bag of chips. I knew it was that time again. A relationship was over.

Turns out, Cake just wanted to party like a rockstar while Ace just wanted to take things easy. So of course, the gentleman got dumped by the stripper. That's right. He got dumped for just being a nice guy and actually having values.

Now that the roller coaster was over, we can look back at it and think about all the things that went wrong there. Such a shame too, Cake was the only one of Ace's exes that actually liked me. All the other ones seemed to hate me for some reason.

And we could get back to our usual conversations.

Cake On A Pole

So where was I? Oh yes, Ace had just landed a date with a girl he just met (we just called her Cake, so I will do so here as well) and everything seemed to be going well. For once, it seemed a little too easy. And that's when I got the phone call.

"Dude, she has a boyfriend!"

"I knew it," I yelled. "I had a gut feeling."

"No, it's alright. She was about to dump him anyways, so I'm good to go!"

"You know this can't end well, right?"

But for some reason, everything was calm. That is, until a few weeks had passed. Ace and Cake were doing really well, so they decided to have me tag along on one of their dates (I was still a third wheel at this time, since it was a few months before meeting Amy). We stopped by her apartment to pick her up, when we started observing all the stuff she had around.

There was nothing to do, so what else were we gonna do?

Right away, I noticed a strange collection of colored wigs. So I had to ask Ace what was up with that.

"What are all those wigs for? Does she act or something?"

"Well, sort of."

I squinted my eyes, feeling there was more to this story. "What do you mean, sort of? What aren't you telling me?"

"Well," Ace hesitated, "she's a stripper."

She's a what?!?!?!?!?

"Of course. There had to be something off. There always is. Whether it's the good girl whose boyfriend beats you after church (true story), the crazy stalker who won't give up, or all those other crazy chicks, you can't seem to find a normal one again. I wouldn't be surprised if things got a bit strange just because she's a stripper. Heck, I wonder if her ex knew."

"He did. And he knows about us too," he said. "He's even come here a few times trying to break in and attack me."

"And you just bring that to a conversation just like that? So there's a lunatic who is out for revenge and he is after you? Even worse, he's out on the loose!"

"Don't worry about it. He has a restraining order. We are fine."

Just as we were about to finish the conversation, Cake entered the living room.

"So, what were you guys talking about?" she asked us.

We both smiled in silence, looking at each other at what to say. And that's when Ace brought out the cover, "just guy stuff."

That night, we all went out to the movies like a normal couple (and their third wheel) would. However, my paranoia was already planted. Then again, I'm a bit glad I kept my eyes open, because it would come in handy a few weeks later.

I kept my eyes open, in case he showed up.

But again, that's a story for another day.

Let There Be Cake

Ace and I were always up for random challenges we both issued, but during the fall of 2009, a challenge was issued that would change his life. One day, I had noticed Ace had gotten distracted during one of our morning breakfast runs. I had noticed that a girl on the other side of the cafeteria had caught his eye (when will it ever be literal?), prompting me to try and stop him from doing anything.

"No way," I said, "how do you know she isn't taken?"

"And what if she isn't?"

"Damnit, Ace! Let's not go there again!"

"I bet I can get a date from her today."

"There's just no way."

"Watch me."

And with that, we went our separate ways. I continued on with some delicious oatmeal, while he tried to get acquainted with the mystery woman. I went through the rest of the day assuming he had blown it at some point, perhaps because he found out she was taken or something. But then I got a text from him at around lunch time.

"Got cake!"

I quickly looked into the distance and saw both of them getting pretty chatty. He had done it, despite all my doubts. Ace had gotten the date. However, we had no idea what would soon follow as consequence. It was about to get crazy. 

Chips and Heartbreak

Sometime during 2009 (or late 2008, I can't recall), an event happened that set the foundation for an epic "bromance" with Ace. The night this happened, we were just getting to be good friends. However, it was all about to change. That night he called me, really sad, stating that he had to come over to my house for something. Keeping in mind that it was late at night, I had begun to worry it was an emergency.

But then again, it was Ace. It could be anything.

He came up to my house really depressed. As it turns out, he had just gone through a break up. And so, I stepped it up and just started talking. Before this night, I had known Ace as a smooth talking ladies man with the skills to woo anybody. However, it was during this night that I discovered the true Ace. We had much more in common than expected. Not only that, but his persona had made him quite misunderstood (but he's still messed up in the head).

For the first time in ages, I had found someone who could relate with me on so many levels. We stayed talking for hours, watching as he slowly cheered up due to our naturally geeky conversations. However, there was one matter that still annoyed me.

"Next time you get your heart broken, you better bring some snacks or something. This recovery process is making me hungry!" I told him jokingly.

However, it wasn't until the next year that I once again had the same call late at night. That time, he wouldn't say why, but I could tell. Once he stepped out of his car, he tossed me a bag of chips and we sat down to talk.

So to this day, every time Ace came over with a bag of chips, I knew what had just happened. Heartbreak never tasted so crunchy, but perhaps he should have brought dip (you know, for recovery's sake).

My Bed Is Alive!

During this entire week, I had tried to get up and write a bit. However, after the allergies I got at work (opening a new store for 3 days, so I gathered a ton of dust) were pulling me more and more towards my bed. I tried to fight it, but my bed just seemed to make itself a lot more comfortable.

It's like it knows! And when I'm sick, it knows even more. It just didn't let me go.

It's days like this that I'm glad to be feeling a lot better. But somehow, this bed has become a hard habit to break.

Recovery

Still recovering from a bad throat and some strong allergies caused by all the dust found during this week's shifts at work. I've been mostly sleeping or just trying to recover in time.

And yes, I have been thinking of new (yet old) stories to tell as I'm getting better.

Too Old For This Playground

While I was back home visiting my friends, we took it upon ourselves to take a break from filming and mess around in the playground. We didn't see anything wrong with the image of a bunch of college (or recent grads) guys in a playground. Then again, we soon realized why we don't do these things anymore

Some of us got hurt while doing those crazy slides. And that was the moment some of us felt older, just because we realized we are simply too old for the playground.

But that's not gonna stop us from doing it all over again someday. Sometimes, it's good to keep in touch with your inner child.

Times Have Changed

One of the most curious things about this year has somehow been the huge turn in my life. Just 9 months ago, I was living a completely different life. Yet, I knew it was all going to change once I finished college. Somehow, it feels like I'm a completely different person since then. It's amazing how much one can change in 9 months.

Change doesn't bring all the perks of regeneration, but oh well...

And I didn't see all that change until a few days ago, when it all truly hit me. First off, I noticed all the changes around me during my first trip back home for graduation. People were different somehow, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. And it wasn't until my second trip back home (just 2 short months after) that I truly noticed. Somehow, it's as if the world around me changed. And why wouldn't it? I moved away, and those around me have moved on. You wouldn't stick around once a party ends, right? No. People go elsewhere, probably to cure their hangover from the party.

But then a few days ago, it really sunk with me how much I've changed. I went back to Jersey to visit some old friends, and to see two of them before they left for England. It wasn't until I was there that I saw how much I have changed. First thing in my mind was, "holy crap, I was a real super nerd back in the day!"

This was pretty much us back in the day.

Now, this isn't a bad thing. However, it just shows how much a person can change. A few years back, I was still one of the nerdiest guys around (and a big dork), kind of shy and mostly clueless. And now I think I'm almost the opposite in a way. I'm somehow feeling less nerdy (can that be possible?) than before, but at least I managed to lose the shy guy thing. Yet, I'm still relatively clueless in many things, but I'm not as lost as before. It feels a bit strange to sort of come full circle.

Just a few months ago, I was so different. All these months of adapting to a new lifestyle has ironically made me a little skeptical, overly cautious, and very analytical now. Still don't know what the final result will be like, but it's pretty much the same old blend with a few different flavors.

I'm starting to feel like Pepsi, going through so many different versions (yes, even Crystal Pepsi at one point) to a point where it feels never ending.

Movie: Soda Punch

Well, here's the film I've been working on since returning from my trip to PR. Don't know when I might get to film again, so I took my sweet time with this one.

Your Own Advice

For some strange reason, many of my friends have come to me for relationship advice. And it always confused me why they kept coming back to me for it, especially since I was still a novice when it came to relationships. And yet, the advice I always gave them seemed to work much to all of our amazement. So for years, I would give out relationship advice to all those who asked. Everyone felt like somehow, I was a love guru. Well, not quite.

During the fall of 2010, I was trying to recover from a nasty breakup. I had taken the whole burden for myself and didn't know how to get out of it. And that's when Ace noticed my problem. I had given out good advice for years, but ironically was unable to listen to my own advice. It's a bit ironic, really. And yet, he knew just how to get that advice to me.

He stopped me during a conversation and then gave me the same advice I had given him during his last breakup, and in the same exact words no less. I swear, sometimes you don't realize your knuckle headed friends are actually listening to you until they throw your own words right back at you.

This time around, it was Ace's turn to snap me out of it.

Bad Habits You Don't Notice

During my final semester of college, Ace came up to me regarding a particular observation he and Freddy (mutual friend of ours) did regarding one of my bad habits. However, he refused to tell me what the bad habit was. According to them, they would only tell me what it was once I figured it out. So of course, it drove me to a pit of self-analysis. And let me tell you, it wasn't the best one.

I quickly looked inside to try and find every quirky thing I did that others might consider odd (because of course, I'm a bit strange at times). I quickly went into my strange ticks or actions, from the itchy noses during allergy season, to the excessive blinking during constant stress.

And yet, Ace kept denying any of my guesses were right. I basically had to beg him to tell me what my bad habit was. He told me that I take something funny and just ram it to the ground due to my constant repetition of the joke.

I was, but too much of a good thing turned it sour.

And that's when I realized, I'm one of those guys! You know the one. The person who keeps using the same joke over and over until it basically outlives it's usefulness in about a week's time. You know those comedians that use the same joke in every act and then bore you? I was that guy, but when I saw something that made us laugh.

Suddenly, I wanted to try and forget every joke I still found funny. Take them to the toilet and flush them like that goldfish you forgot to feed when you were seven. So I had to dig deep to suddenly not become a joke killer. It actually hit me hard. Who knew I was butchering good jokes like that? At this pace, I could have opened up a store to sell the meat of the fresh jokes I had slaughtered (get it? Because it's meat...oh, never mind).

That's how my jokes were processed.

And after all that, I still find myself doing it from time to time. But this time, I know when to stop. That's right, I went through Humor Rehab. All the jokes, none of the excessive dosage.

Bathroom Shenanigans

Ever notice how suddenly, bathrooms just got a whole lot weirder? It suddenly turned into a photo studio for people trying to take their own pictures and a bunch of other random things. So I got thinking, why not show a little example?

Lucky for me, a small scene from my upcoming movie shows just how random it may be.

And here's a little picture of the movie's progress.

Procrastinating For My Procrastination

I don't know why, but I've been feeling a bit lazy since getting back (yet again). Perhaps it might be since I'm juggling the once again job search with the editing of my new movie (which should have been done by now).

Then again, it's only been a few days since I last posted something. I feel like I might be going one level deeper to my procrastination. I'm now procrastinating at procrastination itself! While trying to decide what to do, I've derailed and dozed off while trying to doze off about the very thing I was trying to do in the first place.

My brain just got dizzy trying to process two levels of procrastination!

It kinda feels like the movie Inception, but involving a lot more laziness and less sleep than one would think.

But I think that for now, I'm going to dig deep into my memory and find something my dysfunctional friends have done to maybe turn it into a story. Can't be too hard, considering most of my friends are total goofballs (but not as much as I am).

The Spanish Invasion VS The Island Underdogs

Yesterday was quite the day to be a football (soccer) fan, at least for me and my fellow puerto ricans. Why? Well, for those who don't know, the Spanish football team (I will eventually have to say soccer because someone is bound to get confused) was coming over to the island for an international friendly game. For them, it was just another game. For us, it was a David vs Goliath kind of confrontation. The reigning World and Euro champions were coming to our yard, and it was quite the big deal.

Let's invade again, but with soccer! Come now!

Last week, I got to see all the hype upon my travels back to the island. Clearly, this was an event I knew I was gonna miss because of my own lack of foresight. But no matter what, I was still determined to watch it somehow.

So flash forward to less than 12 hours ago, and I'm finally watching the game. I was excited to see the game, especially since it was my first time seeing our own national soccer team in action. Of course, we were going to be overwhelmed by the Spanish team. They are, after all, the world champions. It's like watching Space Jam all over again, but a lot less animated and with a different sport. That, and the fact that we lost anyways. But it was a 2-1 loss, so it wasn't so bad.

We still fought bravely!

And the fact that we scored a goal against them seemed to piss off a lot of Spaniards. It's like going to a fancy event and suddenly knocking over the ice sculpture that kinda looks like a swan. It's going to make a lot of people gasp, but some are going to think it was pretty cool. That's what our goal was like. We were all celebrating how cool it was, but a whole different crowd was gasping at the indecency.

Sure, this whole debacle has spiraled out of control. I mean, how else does news about a soccer game turn into two countries talking smack to each other for all the wrong reasons? I guess we managed to ruffle some feathers with today's game.

After The Trip

I don't know why, but something always just takes my energy levels down after coming back from a trip (without counting the obvious day flight). A day may have passed, but I'm still drained.

Sometimes we go on vacation to unwind, but sometimes we go just to discover something inside us. For me, I guess it was a bit of both. Well, and the obvious opportunity to film with some friends.

I will actually be putting out a new short here soon (instead of just reposting older films) after a long while of not filming. Feels good to be back in the editing seat.

So before I go, I might as well leave you all a picture from the editing process...you know, just to get that curiosity going.

Wake Up, It's Time For Motivation!

Going out for a few days, so I'm leaving this post ready beforehand.

Everyone's got that one friend who means well, but somehow does things in a strange way. No, I'm not the strange one in this story, but rather my buddy Pickle Jar (let's just stick with PJ). In the past, PJ has come to me and La Barba offering his wisdom when it came to meeting women. It's as if he was some sort of love guru. He just knew.

Pickle Jar was a love guru, and we didn't know how.

Thanks to his advice, I was able to get the guts to ask Linda out. But that's a funny story for another day. This time, the story was a bit different. In the midst of my slumber, I hear my phone starting to ring. I notice it's PJ calling for some reason. And right there, my first thought was "is he stoned again?"

Yeah, I forgot to note PJ has called me stoned before. However, he isn't a stoner. It's a bit strange, but he's not one of those guys who constantly smells like weed or anything. He just does it from time to time. And once he did call me, stoned off his mind, wondering if I could buy a ticket home so I could film a movie idea he had.

To this day, I had no clue what the movie was about nor did I ever hear about it again.

Back to the story. I pick up the phone instantly (very light sleeper) and realize he's not stoned. He's in full control of the conversation, and not just because I'm asleep. This time, he calls me to ask if I had "woken up" and found my path in life. My first thought, "why the *bleep* would you ask me at 4 in the morning if I've decided my life's path?" However, all I could say was...well, I don't remember. I wonder why. Oh yes, I was freaking asleep!

I almost did this before realizing it was a call.

Suddenly, he calls me a few hours later (once the sun has risen and the rooster has played his banjo) wondering if I had indeed "woken up." And so we somehow engaged in a conversation that somehow turned into a motivational speech. And once again, the self-help guru had stuck.

I don't know how he senses it, but he somehow knew I was down. However, why did his senses kick in at 4am? I'm still not sure about that. And no matter what, PJ continues to amaze me. It's like he's an unorthodox wizard with incredible knowledge. He just knows.

Welcome To Gotham City!

Ever since I moved to the Pittsburgh area (about 30 minutes away from the city), I knew things were going to be interesting. However, it wasn't until a friend reminded me that Pittsburgh was one of the cities they used to inspire Gotham that I realized how awesome it might be. And once I saw the latest Batman movie, I had realized that I definitely live near Gotham.

I began to spot different places I recognized as the movie went on, slowly anticipating other known places. And then it really hit. For a brief moment, the university I had selected to do my Master's Degree appeared for a brief moment (even though it was covered up by explosions and such). So many places I had previously been at, suddenly all getting blown up or wrecked.

This is actually the first time since Pirates of the Caribbean where I can tell they are in our backyard.

However, if I ever did live in New York, I would freak out from time to time given the constant destruction it faces in works of fiction. Then again, I would get to film Spider-Man doing his thing. Not so bad, I guess.

But for now, I guess I'm going to see how my experiences in Gotham City go about. I keep wondering if one day I will be sitting in class, only to look out the window and find Batman looking down on the city.

Dumpster Buddies

Somewhere between 1995 and 1996, a specific chain of events took place that wouldn't have a full reaction until later in 2008. This is one of those things I vaguely remember, but thanks to recent events, it's all become a bit clearer.

So what kind of events did start back in the 90's? Well, it's obvious that as a kid, I was bullied for basically being a strange kid. It's just the way of the playground, nothing unusual there. But in one particular day, I got tossed into the trash by some bulles. And it was at that moment, that my life was about to change.

"They got you too?" said another kid in my same situation.

"Yeah," I replied. "I hate these bullies."

"Then come with me. I know a place where they won't find us."

"Where?"

"The library"

It was a moment of pure genius. I had never thought of hiding in the library, and suddenly this kid comes into my dumpster (or did I stumble into his?) and finally offers a sanctuary. How could I pass it up? And so, I took the kid's offer and joined him at the library. And every day since then, we would just sit down and read comics during our recess. Not just that, we also had a third student seeking shelter, so we all became friends in a way.

Flash forward to 97, I had to change schools. While my best friend JC and I did indeed stay in touch, I did lose contact with my library companions. It was very unfortunate, because I would later block out most of the 90's from my memory.

2008 comes around and I've joined a new group of misfits. However, something felt a bit familiar about two of these friends. And once I hear the name of the school one of them came from, I started connecting the dots. The next day, we brought photos of our classes from 1996 to see if we could find each other. I quickly found them both, not even realizing that those kids I had picked out from the picture were standing right in front of me. And then it was their turn, I was found on the spot.

And just like that, I had reconnected with old friends. And what makes the chain of events epic, is that the kid in the dumpster turned out to be Ace, one of my best friends ever. So if it weren't for those bullies who shoved us in the same dumpster, chances are we wouldn't have had such a history.

It's also funny to tell others the story of how we met. Ace just puts it as simple as possible. "Easy," he says, "we both got shoved into a dumpster and found each other."

If that's not a precursor to a good bromance, then I don't know what is.

Somehow, I know I can relate.

Experience

Now that I'm back in the job hunt, I've once again seen a common denominator when it comes to seeking employment. "3-5 years experience required" is the one key thing I keep seeing. However, this brings me to a confusing crossroad...

How can we get 3-5 years of experience for that job if we can't find one that is willing to give us the experience? Do they have those first 3 years of experience available on CD-Rom at your local Office Depot? Maybe that's why people aren't getting those jobs, it's all the CD-Rom's fault for not being easily marketable. Then again, I doubt we can just get those years of experience by simply buying a product.

It's one of those cases where I just keep scratching my head as I scavenge for local jobs. And why do all the entry level jobs come from marketing firms? I guess that's just part of the curiosities of the job hunt. Entry level jobs are all personal sales, while the jobs you want require experience but don't wanna fork over those first 3-5 years.

Perhaps they should have universities give classes simply titled "Experience" and have it go from Experience 101 to Experience 301 to make sure we do get that minimum of 3 years experience. Experience in what, you ask? I don't know, but it shows here I took three years worth of experience in college!

Now where's my interview?

A Rush of Intensity

During the holiday season of 2006, I found myself working a few extra shifts at the local pharmacy. As typical of a holiday season, a swarm of people would ambush the store and the lone cashier tried to survive the rush. As expected, I was that lone cashier. And anybody who has gone to a pharmacy (seriously, who doesn't go to one?) knows how crazy it can get during the season.

So you have a formula for insanity right there with the season alone, but now let's add the "Saturday Rush Factor" to make it interesting. So what's an overwhelmed cashier to do in a tight spot with no backup? Easy, he resorts to a method never attempted before. And no, it wasn't that bad a thing. I bought one of those little energy shots that are supposed to give you energy for hours.

That's what I needed anyways, but I didn't know what I've gotten into until after I chugged that beverage of energetic proportions. At first, I didn't feel a thing and everything was going normally. And that's when the rush hit. Suddenly, everything started to slow down. And no, I wasn't on an acid trip (don't even know what those feel like, just for those of you wondering), but rather the energy drink was starting to work.

I was so hyper and charged with energy, that the whole world suddenly seemed to slow down around me. I felt like Neo, I was taking on the Matrix (or groceries) with lightning speed and max precision. I kept scanning and bagging items so fast, I felt like I had grown additional arms.

I felt like I had extra limbs thanks to that little drink of energy!

I don't know how much it lasted, but it's a rush that I've never felt before. Now I know why my friends warned me of energy drinks during high school. If I've been unbearable in my normal state, just imagine what an energy drink would do. With that kind of energy, I would have chatted someone to death. Lucky for me, all that energy was wasted on bagging like a maniac.

By the end of the shift, I was so beat, but I didn't realize I still had another bottle to go. And what a time it was to choose the remaining bottle. Here's a little bit of advice for anybody wanting to take energy drinks. Don't drink one if you're going to help navigate someone to a particular destination (this was before the GPS was commonly available and was expensive), so I took that map and made it my bitch. Navigating with energy drinks are quite an experience.

I'm glad to say I've yet to take another one of those since 2006, because they turn me into something else. Kind of like Bruce Banner and the Hulk, but not really focused on destruction.

Pride

I know I haven't posted as much lately. I've been busy trying to get acclimated with the new job I started last week. However, it all went in a completely different direction. It's hard to believe how a new experience can somehow turn sour, no matter how much you fight it. It's been a rough week so far (reason for not posting), and it all concluded today with my departure from the new job.

So this is where pride comes in. It's funny how pride can make us do strange things. Pride is such an easy thing to gain, but also an easy thing to lose. It's kind of like the attention span of a goldfish, but not as impressive. Our pride can sometimes blind us from the truth or try to protect us. For me, my pride would not allow me to admit I was sinking.

I feel like I got tossed in a pool while I was trying to swim. I tried all I could, but I was eventually overwhelmed and had to leave the pool. It's hard to admit it, but I had recognized I wasn't doing well in this new job. I broke down and admitted my defeat, and with that, I was out.

I don't post this to be gloomy (despite this being a blog of humorous nature), but rather as a lesson. Sometimes, our pride will not allow us to admit we aren't good at something. And eventually, we will recognize our limitations and make a decision. For me, it was realizing I was sinking fast and wasn't able to recover. Pride can be a fuel for self-improvement, but it can also cloud our vision.

Before I go, I want to at least leave something funny (again, being serious in a humor blog isn't normal for me, but I needed to do this). I did have a customer with the funniest name ever...

"Rusty Dick"

No joke. That's his name.

Road Signs

As I made my first drive across state lines, I wondered what the welcome sign for the next state would look like. As soon as I entered West Virginia, I was greeted with a big and colorful welcome sign. It was kinda hard to notice, but couldn't be appreciated due to the other sign that followed...an increase in the speed limit.

Now, I'm not a big fan of driving, but at least I can handle PA's 65 MPH limit just fine. As soon as I crossed the state, I felt like a broadcaster from the horse races was yelling in my ear "and they're off!" as I tried to increase the speed of the car. But at least the extravagant sign made my first state crossing feel a bit welcoming.

Too bad it wasn't the same once I was headed back into Pennsylvania. The welcome sign was hidden on one side of the road and really didn't call much attention. Really, PA? You want to welcome people into your state like a big nerd approaching a super model? I couldn't help but laugh at the contrast of signs, and yet, it all made sense a bit.

Being stuck in PA has been rather gloomy for a while, and my first trip into another state leaves a better impression just because it has a brighter welcome billboard. Let's hope Ohio isn't gloomy either, because that's where I might try next.

Daydreams

Have you ever found yourself drifting off and daydreaming at the most inopportune time? Do you lose focus during an important speech, during a test, at work, while you walk, while you try to drift off into another daydream, or while trying to save the universe from the forces of evil? This pretty much happens to all of us, so it's not unusual to look at the person next to you and have them staring at the stars.

I guess it's just the mind trying to take a quick snooze, even if it's at the most inconvenient time. And speaking of daydreams, here's a short film I made (a long time ago) about daydreams.

The Itchy Statue

In college, sometimes we go out of our way to get extra credit in a course. Sometimes we need it, and sometimes we do it just to impress someone who is trying to get it as well. In my case, it was a little bit of both. Our history teacher, a person so obsessed with the Greek culture that she would devour one if she ever came across one, decided to put up an event where her students would be portraying living statues in front of the entire university.
A bit nerve wrecking, but I needed the extra credit.

As we prepared for it, I realize my greek costume looks more like a 5 year old's attempt at a ghost during halloween. And yet, I continued. My sandals weren't very greek either, but instead were those monster "man-dals" full of mud. Close enough, I suppose. And so, we all marched into the main entrance and started to take our places. I was quite happy with this, considering all I would have to do is stand still and not do a thing.

The professor started placing us in our spots, and once my turn came, I was quite satisfied with my spot. I had plenty of shade, a steady base to stand on, plenty of visibility to see who was watching, I was close enough to an exit where I could bail. What could possibly go wrong, right?

As the event started, I started to get a slight itchy sensation in my left leg. Perhaps it was just the fact that I was standing still and my body was just messing with me. You know, like how we get an itchy nose as soon as we use both of our hands to lift something heavy. Well, I was having the same situation in my leg. Something didn't feel right. And for once during that day, I began to suspect something was going wrong.

As it turns out, the professor had placed me on top of an ant hill and didn't realize it. And I'm not talking about an approximation to the object in question, I'm talking about being placed right on top of the thing. So imagine, to my surprise, how it felt to have all those ants suddenly try to crawl up my leg. And that's when my problem came up. How was a statue supposed to scratch his legs if he couldn't move?

I could hear them singing in unison as they marched up my legs.

And once the professor turned around, I scratched my leg with the opposing leg's foot. I scratched as discretely as possible. But this is college, nothing goes unnoticed. All my friends started noticing my predicament. I was a statue standing on top of an ant hill and I was trying to scratch myself to the end of this event in one piece. And after what seemed like an eternity later, the event ended and I rushed off in a blind fury towards the men's room.

With one great swoop of a moist paper towel, I scraped off all those pesky ants that were still troubling me. Needless to say, I did get to make an impression that day, even though it wasn't the one I wanted. For a bit, people were talking about the itchy statue. And even though it faded into obscurity, it's one of those things that got me noticed for a brief time.

And yes, I did manage to get the extra credit. Did I impress the girl? Well, if you count making her laugh on account of your accidental predicament, then yes.

A Fancy Night

Not only did my early college days bring new depth to my character (I was seen as a crazy man with a mountain bike), but I was starting to appreciate the finer things in life for once. I was learning to love my new found free time, my new friends, my new life, everything was just going well. I was even losing all that weight that didn't go away in high school, but that most mostly due to the "college diet" where you eat cheap and eat little.

One of those things I was starting to appreciate were the arts, especially classic art. I discovered a Van Gogh painting (Starry Night) sometime during one of my days in class and it was an instant hit. The world of literature soon opened up even more, as I somehow submerged myself into the arts (not just because I was a humanities major at the time). And with my new found appreciation for the arts, I suddenly saw an opening to be a fancy gentleman.

One of our humanities professors had invited the class to an art gallery near the university for an event (which I seem to forget what it was) and any student who went would get extra credit. So I had a chance to be all artsy fartsy and try to improve my grade in a difficult class (history was never my strong point when I started out) all at the same time? Where do I sign?

Twas my time to be a gentleman!

Not just that, but there was also this girl I was trying to impress. What? It wouldn't be me if there wasn't some kind of conquest involved, now would it? Thought so. I was trying to impress Sally, a girl from our class (and freshmen survival group) that seemed to bond with me somehow. Hey, I sure as heck didn't complain. It was college, a whole new ball game. All my embarrassing shenanigans from high school were gone.
So then, at the night of the event, my friends and I congregated around some fancy art and everything seemed fine. That is, until they brought the wine.

This was my first time facing any kind of drink in the college environment. But this was somehow different. There was no pressure at all to drink. In fact, nobody seemed to care. However, I still wanted a bit of that wine. After all, I was trying to be as fancy as I could.

So I went with a friend who knew a thing or two about wine. And I simply followed his lead. Little did I know, I was in for a surprise. This man knew wine well, so of course he would pick some strong stuff. And like a little boy trying to imitate, I chose the same wine he did. Mistake #1 right there. And then I did what should never be done with wine. I took a giant gulp of it. That right there was mistake #2. You don't gulp, you sip.

Lift the pinky and be fancy!

My throat was so dry, I quickly looked for an immediate source of hydration. I had to conform to Pepsi, since there was no water around (surprisingly). After that, I realized what had happened. My friend was laughing at my mistake, especially since I had taken an "expert's wine" instead of a starter. So I started to look around and found white wine. And yes, I mixed wine with soda. And I took a few of each, not sure why.

So then, I started to feel a bit tipsy. However, I realized that these kinds of drinks affect me in a different way. Just like people can turn into annoying clowns when they drink, I turned into just the opposite. I was as quiet as can be.

And that's when Sally showed up. Crap!

The rest of the night was spent with her and friends, and I was as quiet as can be. And yes, I had my alone moments with her where I could have been gone all Antonio Banderas on her, but instead I was as quiet as Mr.Bean during a good comedy.

Yep, it was a fancy night indeed.

Digital Diagnosis

Some time last year, I decided to foolishly check WebMD to check information on something that was happening to me. Earlier that day I had either some hot chocolate or some kind of soup, either way, it was hot liquid. That first gulp burned my tongue a bit, something I'm quite familiar with. I'm clumsy, it happens.

And for some reason, that day was the first time I decided to really pay attention to what my burnt tongue looked like in the mirror. And what happens when you combine paranoia and curiosity? I don't know, but don't go looking for it on WebMD.

I checked all the symptoms, and of course, they all seemed like terrible diseases. Needless to say, I couldn't sleep that night for two obvious reasons. One, the feel of my burnt tongue became so obvious it was distracting for once. And secondly, the paranoia instilled in me would not let me sleep due to the fear of having a few bumps on the tongue being related to a form of cancer.

Eventually, reality kicked in and I felt rather foolish for even attempting to find out what I was going through. Turns out, WebMD and paranoia can turn a simple thing into a giant disaster. It's one of those things you put in the category of things that shouldn't get mixed together along with texting and driving,  or chocolate milk and pizza. They just don't go well together.

So next time you feel a bit funky and want to check online what you might be feeling, make sure to stop right there because you might be saying goodbye to common sense and hello to the loony bin.

Flags and Fireworks

Having been raised in a territory, I don't believe we have given much importance to July 4th. For us, it's been mostly a day off from work, a day at the beach with friends, or just a day to sleep. So it was kind of curious to see how it was going to be on the other side of the fence. And even though I spent some time living in the states before, it's just now that I actually did some observation.

I spent most of my day at work, so I got to see some really silly stuff. First of all, people went a little crazy with some of their outfits. I understand you want to wear a t-shirt with the flag, a bandana, or even a dress with the stars and stripes, that's all fine. However, if you wear a jacket with the flag on it, you will always make me think of the time Borat sang the anthem. I'm sorry, but it just looks ridiculous when you wear it. Stick to a hat that has the flag or something instead.

You look silly, bro! Just stick to the t-shirt.

Also something I've noticed is people here tend to get carried away sometimes with the number of flags they have on their lawn. Are they somehow playing Minesweeper with that many American flags? Perhaps someone there is trying to impress a fellow patriot down the street. And if they did hook up, just thinking on the patriotic roleplay they would do only takes an intimate moment and would turn it into the strangest thing ever. Trust me, nobody wants to see a couple dress up as Abe Lincoln and the Statue Of Liberty as they try to get down and freaky.
I don't know, but that's why I'm assuming they have so many flags on the lawn. Perhaps the Minesweeper idea is most logical here. At least, I hope it's that.

Please, let it be just that.

And as I await the sun to set so I can see some fireworks, it makes me think. Holy crap! This holiday seems bigger than Christmas, New Years, the release of a Twilight movie (only for confused teenagers), and bacon all combined! And you gotta admit, it's hard to beat bacon!
So happy 4th to everyone out there! Have some fun out there. Hope you enjoyed this strange trip through my mind. It's amazing what random things I can think about during a 9-hour shift. Oh well, on to see the fireworks.

Safety First, Accidents Later

Out of all the things my freshman year of college taught me, one of them was to not depend on a car to get to where I wanted. I had a mountain bike I rode to college as my main mode of transportation. Well, it was either that or walking. Besides, I lived on the other side of town, so it was a little over 10 minutes of travel (on bike). Either way, I was starting to get known for being one of the few people who biked their way to campus.

Riding dorky, but with class!

And of all those things I was known for, one of them was the helmet hair. Back then, I actually had a certain amount of hair to make helmet hair feasible. So when people saw me, they knew I came on my bike. And with that comes the other characteristic that made people look at me funny. I was the only one who actually used a helmet. Nobody dared to wear a helmet. I don't know why, but I guess they feared they might look like little kids, perhaps. I didn't care, because I wanted to be safe.
Side note: I always chained my bike once I parked it, but I never did so with my helmet because nobody ever bothered to even glance at it. Never got stolen, so it kind of made me laugh since it was never chained to the bike.

Should have gotten a "hairmet" to help with my hair issues.

That added precaution made my new college friends joke around with me regarding my bike safety. They all jokingly said that at some point or another, I was gonna get hit by a car, despite my precautionary measures.
So a few weeks later, it actually happened.

As I was traveling across the sidewalk, I happen to slip on a couple of rocks and smacked the back of a car with the left side of my body. Nothing happened to the car, but I did happen to lose my balance and injured myself. I tried to use my right foot to try and stop myself from falling, but as usual, I slipped on some remaining pebbles and sprained my ankle. But the fun didn't stop there. I also injured my right wrist as I somehow tried to stop myself from landing on the road. Yeah, that didn't work either.

I quickly stood up and got back on the sidewalk as a car was approaching down the lane. It didn't bother to stop though. Despite being injured and having sprained my ankle, the adrenaline kicked in and I managed to peddle my way to campus. However, as soon as I chained my bike and took my helmet off (revealing my always embarrassing helmet hair), I realized my right ankle was in horrible pain.

What just happened?

So I hopped my way to class. And yes, I was late. Once I stepped into the classroom, everyone stood in shocked silence. The fact that I forgot to brush off the debris from my clothes made it look like I was in a serious wreck. I apologized to the professor for being late and explained the whole accident. I sat down and looked at my classmates as they tried to recover from the shock.
"Who knew? I actually did get hit by a car! Good thing none of you said truck," I joked.

I don't know about you, but that's how you make an entrance.