Galician life

Primitive man, thanks

2011-04-05T20:04:00.005+02:00

We owe so much to those guys we can’t even imagine. Have you ever seen a documentary about the prehistory? They had to make huge sacrifices to preserve our specie, and I don’t think we are being grateful enough.

Women thousands of years ago were very hairy, I mean, insane eyebrows, beard, hairy legs, arms, armpits… When I take a look at them, they don’t seem to me like people who smelled good. Then they had yellow teeth, or they were just toothless. Having showers weren’t a common thing. They were strong, ugly, aggressive… let’s face it, they were dirty males with vaginas, and our ancestors had to and did in fact bang them. I bet it wasn’t a pleasant thing to do, but they did it because they had balls and because they cared about us.

Now, we are just here with all these gorgeous girls, enjoying how beautiful they are, how good they smell, white teeth, tiny eyebrows, thin, shaved… and I think we should invent already a time machine so we could send some of our beautiful girls to the primitive for their enjoyment, I think they deserve it. It would be a good way of saying: Primitive man, thanks

The Justin Bieber situation

2011-03-28T19:59:00.003+02:00

Do you remember when you were 15? Imagine that in that period you start singing, putting your videos singing in the Youtube, people start watching them, a lot of people, and then, at some point, you become the most famous singer in the world. What would be the problem? What’s your fault?

Lately everywhere I go where someone is talking about this Justin Bieber guy, all I can detect is hate, I mean, hate, really hate, and I find that really funny, hilarious.

Someone - Justin Bieber is so fucking gay I hope he dies

Me - Oh, Why’s that?

Someone - Mmm… Justin Bieber is so fucking gay I hope he dies… Don’t tell me you like him? You’ll be a fag if you did!

Me - I just listened to one of his songs, he’s not Beethoven, but tolerable

Then I almost got kicked by that person, a eighty year old woman she was. Other day I was in a bar with some people, Mtv or some bullshit channel like it was on, then our friend Justin appeared, and people started complaining, they were very disgust, they were full of hate. I was really impressed

When I arrived home I googled him, the song I knew of him, had like 500 millions views, that seem to be a lot. I saw the like button; ¾ of the people had voted for dislike. Then I started reading the comments:

DONT FORGET TO DISLIKE THE VIDEO!!!

Justin Bieber is a gay man who finds the powerful

They want us to see his film they can try and convert us into their sick and twisted belieber cult. Fuck that!

FIRST GAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY VID TO GET500000000 VIEWS !!!

..... I wouldnt see that movie if i got paid 50 bucks

More than 4 million comments, comments fall there like rain here in Galicia (that means a lot) So, is obvious this teenager is just a product, a mark, like Nike, Coca-Cola or whatever shit, he is all over, a lot of promotion, a lot of lovers and maybe more haters, and I just don’t get it. People don’t hate Coca-Cola for being all over the place, have a lot of commercials and even have controversies in countries of the third world where they opened factories. Why do people hate this boy? Honestly, I don’t give a shit, either you love him or hate him I think you’re stupid. He is just a regular adolescent with a regular voice who some company started selling as an Icon, like they always do.

How easy is to hate a boy instead of other things, instead of face your meaningless existence, people is usually more demanding with others than with themselves. If you want to waste your time hating people you don’t know or won’t know, hate the people who sell you the boy, not the boy. Condemn the sin, not the sinner, because maybe, some day, someone with his head twisted will kill the boy, and then we all will be putting our hands on our heads, not the company though, they will keep selling the icon and making a fortune out of the boy, show must go on.

The village's hero

2011-03-10T14:38:00.002+01:00

New York has Spiderman, my village has me. It isn't the first time I save someone's ass around here, and that is why I am the savior and protector of this Galician land.

Being a hero is tough, no joke, a lot of responsability. My first deed came when I was like ten years old, a small cousin fell in the escalators and when he was gonna die I raised him (Maybe he wasn't going to die, but he had fallen)

Then I went for one deed to another until someday in the village where I live there was a great flood. My neighbor's hens were dying drowned inside the death trap their house has became, so, braveheart of me got inside that coop and started looking for hens with water on my hips, a black water, very dense, mixed with feces and death bodies. I didn't rescue any hen, but I got dirty and wet, if that isn't heroic what is it?

I don't know guys, there are so many heroism in my short biography. The other day I was at home, wathing TV or reading a book (maybe watching porn) when someone rang, I answered and I heard this:

- Help! Help! I need help please! HELP!!

I'm used to this kind of calls, I'm the village's hero, so I maintained the calm:

- Who are you? Could you come back in ten minutes? I'm in the middle of something right now...

- I'm the neighbor! I need help please! Please!

Since she was sounding really scared I decided to check things up. I put on my suit (a hen's costume I wore when I was five) and got out. At my door was this sweet 17 year old teenager very scared but at the same time very hopeful expecting that her hero: The chickenman, would save her.

She told me someone was in problems, a gate had fell upon her older sister. I ran to her house and then I saw how her sister was lying in the floor with her mother hugging and protecting her. I cleared the zone, touched the girl's legs and asked her if she felt that, she did feel it, but you can never be prudent enough with these things, so I kept touching her, just the most sensitive places, dismiss any medullary damage is very important.

She seemed to be feeling everyhting, so I took my fingers out of her vagina and asked to her mother what had happened. She told me her doughter was openning the gate when it fell over her, she was stuck for a couple minutes but her other doughter and her could get her out. I told her we should call an ambulance, she agreed on that. I called the ambulance and then we waited, in the cold, it was really cold, my hen's costume isn't the wormest.

Ten minutes later the ambulance arrived and took the poor girl to the hospital, I went back home and had a shower. Another person had been saved by me, by the hero. Living in my village can be boring, but with me here, you'll be always safe.

Grettings, and remember, I can save you one or a hundred times, but is important you take care of yourself, fellow.

Mmm check out how ugly is that one

2010-11-12T10:27:00.001+01:00

Every time I walk in the street I see a lot of hot girls, if I go to a shop, I see a lot of hot girls. If a go around a church, I see a lot of hot girls, if I turn on my TV I see a lot of hot girls. Everywhere is full of hot girls right now. There are a lot of hot girls, we live surrounded by them, and that's not okay.

There is so much amount of hot girls now that I'm honestly starting to feel attracted to the ugly ones, it's so hard to find one, they are so cute going all alone while nobody but me is looking at them. In the past being hot was the difference, now is the rule, the difference is being ugly, and men are attracted to the difference, not the rule.

The ugly ones are smarter because they need that to survive, funnier because of the same reason, smiling doesn't open doors for them, they have to struggle in life, they are more prepared for everything. I know they hate the hot ones, but it's jut a matter of time that changes. Maybe I'm the first one who starts feeling attracted to the ugly women instead of the pretty hot ones, but I assure you I won't be the last one. Pretty soon all of us will be saying: "Mmm check out how ugly is that one"

Sponge vs Bar of soap

2010-11-11T18:22:00.000+01:00

Life is about decisions, choices. I want to talk about one of the toughest today. Whether using a sponge or a bar of soap in the shower. Well, I know in the States the bars of soap are the most usual, and I used to don't understand why, until I tried it.

The sponge is nice, you can reach isolated spots, is easy to manage, hard to drop and it's even soft and sweet, but you have to put a lot of soap on it, two charges per shower, that is not okay, and the soap is like very ephemeral, I don't feel absolutely cleanness with it I may say.

In the other hand, bars of soap are more slippery, easier to drop and not as manageable as sponges. But I have to say I made the change to them, once you try the bar is like a completely new experience, the cleanness feeling is huge, amazing, maybe it's harder to use, not as soft, but I think bars of soap are better than sponges. Don't you think?

Everybody has that person

2010-11-10T12:40:00.004+01:00

Have you ever met someone for the first time in a party, a dinner or whatever and you guys talked about some subject, but only one subject and then split? Then have you ever seen that very same person a few weeks later and had the same exactly conversation about the very same subject? And a couple months later have you ever found that person again and talked again about the same subject? Of course you have, everybody has that person.

It's weird, because the first time you think you go along with that person "we really had some talking there" you may think. The second time when you have the same conversation you start thinking something is going wrong. The third time you realized you guys are stuck in that subject, you realized you guys only talk about the same thing on and on and everytime you guys try to change the subject uncomfortables silences appear.

And that situation is forever, you can't change that, it's impossible. Everytime you see that person you are going to be so uncomfortable that no matter how hard you force yourself to not to, you will end bringing up the subject you guys always talk about. And that subject is usually boring and stupid, maybe you talk about how good Lebron is, maybe about how horrible is that guy's job, or maybe the subject is just about the wheather. My advice is simple: Start studing about weather, the guy's job or Lebron, because you are going to talk about that with that person forever

Money buys happiness

2010-11-09T11:02:00.001+01:00

I think it does, I know it's really cool saying: "No, money doesn't buy happinnes, love and friendship does" And that's true, if you have millions of dollars more millions of dollars won't make you happier, but we know that's not the point.

I think that if you have millions you can buy time, and time gives happiness. Would you spent hours in your office if you could spent them with your children? Would you be happier travelling the globe going wherever you want to or going to sleep early because your boss doesn't tolerate delays? If you mix time with money you have the happiness' recipe.

Of course your mother, son or friend can die, of course you can waste your life due to the amount of free time, but that is only because if you mix time, money and stupidity you have the unhappiness' recipe. Where are you reading this pal? In your office or wherever you wanted to be? You can keep saying that money doesn't buy everything, but according to how the world is ruled, so far it does.

This guy you are with, the one named God, isn't advisable, sweetie

2010-11-08T10:34:00.000+01:00

I witnessed a lot of crazyness around me these last few days. Maybe I'm the crazy one, not them. People waking up early, traveling hundreds of miles and waiting for hours to see some guy dressed in white passing by in his transparent car without even stopping. People with a shaken gesture screaming things like: "¡Papa amigo, España está contigo!" (Pope, friend, Spain is with you!)

And I think that is why love to God is pretty much the same than love to a couple. You think everything he does is perfect, you think he is the best, you are blinded. And when I witness this behaviour I feel bad, because you can't do anything to open her (or his) eyes. It's like that friend of yours dating a really bad ass, whatever you tell her only will put her against you, she will refuse everything you say that she doesn't want to hear, her love is perfect and that's it.

And let's face it, What could we do? What can we tell them? "Hey, that guy you are going out with doesn't seem someone you can trust in, he doesn't even show himself honey" "I know he is very famous and successful, I just think loving someone who never calls you back is weird" "I don't envy you buddy, I just said all those tales they tell you about him don't seem very real to me" "Allow me an advice my friend: If you have to die to meet him he isn't worth it at all" "You are just one more of millions, he is very promiscuous Don't you see that?" "I'm sorry but he is just with you for your money, How many times did you give him some? How many times did he give it back to you?" "Just face it, this guy you are with, the one named God, isn't advisable, sweetie"

Pope Star

2010-11-07T11:55:00.002+01:00

The Pope and all of his toys (you gotta love the Popemobile)are in Spain, and of all places he decided to come to Galicia. The excitement and nervousness has been huge among the religious fanatics, while the non religious people have been annoyed and pissed. A traveling Pope always comes with quite a hefty pricetag (around six millions euros in cost), but you know, seeing the closest thing we have to God has never been cheap.

The guy is a star though, he came, gave his concert, played his most famous hits like "The Lord´s player" and "Hail Mary", made people go crazy, probably screwed a couple young groupies behind the stage, and left for his next stop. What a life he has, dressed with those extravagant clothes, flying in private jets, crusing around in his bomb proofed personal car. The media couldn't talk about anything that wasn't the Pope this week, they were so absorbed that there were a few fires and murders that actually went unreported in the news. He is clearly the most important person in the world, he is a real hero. His unique achievement in life is simply being the Pope.

He talked about the poor people for a while, and I think it was very appropriate, talking about that issue while wearing a gold-covered crown, living in a gold-covered palace. But poor people were crying tears of hope with his visit, just having the opportunity of seeing him made their day, possibly their year. He is just the visible head of a very profitable and successful bussiness, he is the Pope Star.

Hello! How are you doing? Don't kill me please

2010-11-06T10:13:00.004+01:00

Jogging is healthy, I think all of us agree on that. I've lived very few times in the US, but I could see how many people do jogging there, it's like a religion, every one finds the time in their day to go out with their ipod and get some exercise. I find that very nice.

I walk my dog everyday, so I do jogging. I have to say I have the honor of being the first inhabitant of my village to be a jogger, I'm actually the first person there who said the word jogging. I run or walk around the forest, I actually live in the forest, but when I run or walk (walk) I go to the part without houses, one with some mountains, it's fun. There are several trails, nobody is around, no noises. I usually run into wild animales like horses, cows or wild boars, but they are fine. If you just ignore them they ignore you.

The most uncomfortable situation is when once or twice in a month, I bump into a human being. There are a lot of miles of forest, nobody walks on it, but there are exceptions sometimes. When you see the guy coming (always dudes, and scary ones) you get nervous, it's silly, but true, you thought you were alone, you behaved like you were alone, but now you realize you aren't, one person is walking in your direction. You know you have to say hello, when you find another person in a huge empty place, not saying hello is worse than spitting in his face. Then, when the closer is getting the guy, the more you think about how alone you guys are, and how easy it would be for one of us killing the other and getting away with it. I mean, you can scream, but no one would hear you, you are totally at his mercy, so if you run into a serial killer you are screwed. That's why these one or two times per month I find someone in the forest I tell him with a kind smile: "Hello! How are you doing? Don't kill me please" And then I keep jogging.

Suicidal people have a lot of merit

2010-11-05T10:25:00.003+01:00

When someone commits suidicide we tend to think the guy was a coward "He took the easy way" we say, I think that is not true, I think those guys deserve a lot of credit, I wouldn't know how to even get started with that. How do you do it?

I could shoot myself in the head, but I'd need a gun, and I don't know how to get a gun, in Spain you have to get through a lot of bureaucracy to get one (In the US they sell them in Walmarts but here is different)and once you get one you must use it right. What if you shoot yourself in the wrong place and end up being a vegetable? I could also cut my veins, but where exactly? In the movies they always cut the arm, and they always fail. You can jump out of a window you may say, I live in the country, the highest building here has two stories. Then the one about the toaster in the shower wouldn't work either, the wire doesn't reach my tub, and I highly doubt my poor electric conection could kill a fly. You can always hang yourself you sure thinking, How dude? You have to make that professional knot, find a good rope, a hook or something, hanging yourself is probably the hardest one.

Then we have the letter part. What do you write on those? You explain your reasons? You make a biography? How long should it be? You send it or just leave it at home? Too many questions man... When you want to kill yourself and you find out you don't know how, that would probably get you more depressed and would make your will of killing yourself bigger, and that would put you in a curl. Suicide is a very hard thing, that's why we should give a lot of credit to the ones who achieve it. Suicidal people have a lot of merit.

People dying makes me hungry

2010-11-04T06:19:00.078+01:00

When my grandma was dying, I went several times to the hospital to visit her and reward with my company, all those amazing soups, tasty stews and awesome desserts she gave me in the past. In that hospital I witnessed the most disturbing thing ever seen.

In my grandma's room there were three beds. One for her, another for an old lady in her last days too, and then the last one was for a 15 year old anorexic girl. Seeing that situation, I had to ask a doctor why they would put that poor girl in the same room with two dying old ladies. He told me that it was just part of her treatment "Every anorexic is in a room with two dying old people so they know what is life about"

I think that is absolutely insane, my grandma passed away in less than a week, the other lady one day after her, the 15 year old anorexic girl had to be like four months in that room. I calculate she could witness 25 deaths in her stay in that hospital. More madness, when someone died they let the dead body in the room, so when I left that hospital the anorexic girl was watching TV with my dead grandma and a old lady who would die that very same night. My cuestion is: What the fuck are they doing in that hospital? What are they thinking? Do they actually believe that those poor anorexic people are going to start eating because everybody around is dying? What do they expect? That the anorexics tell them: "You were right Doctor, people dying makes me hungry"

That's it, I'm getting myself pregnant tonight

2010-11-03T09:06:00.002+01:00

Have you ever thought how would the world be if we were hermaphrodite? If any men or women could impregnate themselves any moment they want? How would that be like? Would there be more or less children in the world?

I think it depends, if we could get pregnant any time we masturbate, the overpopulation would be the main problem in our society, but if we just could get ourselves pregnant any time we want to, there would be less kids for sure. Men or women wouldn't need each other for anything (there would only be one gender) or maybe we would, if we kept our two genders and could have sex, but worhtless sex, just pleasure but not reproduction, the world would be awesome. Don't you think?

Just by changing that thing, our world would be completly different, our social relations and interactions would change a lot. Our life would be really weird and disturbing. Just imagine that guy with a fine work and with his own department lying in his bed with troubles to sleep while feeling lonely thinking: "That's it, I'm getting myself pregnant tonight"

Just pick a masseuse

2010-11-02T13:23:00.000+01:00

Masseuses are the best girlfriends possible, doesn't matter how they look or how interesting they are, any time you want it, you get a free massage. Sex is cool, but let's face it, a sex-massage combo is the coolest option possible.

You are watching TV lying on your couch while someone is giving you an amazing massage in your head, a pro massage! That is heaven dude. Who cares she is fat or bald? She is a woman and she has the skills to have you relaxed all the time. In fact, the uglier she is the luckier you are, you won't have any competition, the massuses are very underestimated in our society yet, and since she is ugly she'll want to reward you with one awesome massage everytime you ask for it.

So, forget about supermodels or sex symbols, I bet they don't know how to give massages, and if they do they probably don't want to give them away. She can be blonde, dark-haired or brunette. Whether she is fat or thing, pretty or ugly, young or old, just pick a masseuse my friend.

Halloween in Spain

2010-11-01T02:11:00.002+01:00

When I was a kid Halloween in Spain just existed within English classes. No one was interested in that celebration, we have the Carnival, which is pretty much the same. But we live under the clutches of capithalism, and it covers everything. Gradually in Spain the shopping malls started selling and promoting Halloween costumes and stuff. The media started talking about how great Halloween is (using that smart trick of saying something is already happenning when it isn't. If you say everybody is doing something, everybody starts doing something like idiots) and right now, for more or less five years, we celebrate Halloween like one of our most famous celebrations in the year.

I find this sad and annoying, the other day three girls bad dressed with indefinable costums, came to my home and said: "Truco o trato" That crap doesn't make any sense in Spanish, it's a too literally translation. I didn't give them anything but my mother did (She is American) we don't have Halloween culture, when a bunch of stupid kids arrive to some random home, they usually won't get anything but questions: "What did you say about a treatment?" "Who are you again?" "Why are you people in my house?"

I asume this Halloween bullshit is unstoppable already, this war is defeated, media always wins. I just find funny that in Spain people is imitating this traditional American custom and they don't know what for. I'm from a Celt land, Galicia is Celt, so it is Halloween, but I don't care, we've never done this before, we don't even know how doing it. Witnessing it is really sad. The only ones winning here are the ones selling costumes and some other Halloween stuff to the retarded Spaniards, and believe me, we can be very good at sports, but at being retarded no one can beat us.

Scared from the distance

2010-10-31T12:09:00.002+01:00

I have been hearing a lot lately about the "tea party" and all their nutty supporters. Sometimes they say in the news here in Spain that Sarah Palin wants to run for president in the future. Sometimes they interview republican supporters and I listen to what they have to say, and I must confess that their opinions scare me a little bit, they are pretty radical if you ask me.

The US is one of the most powerful countries in the world. Could it ever be ran by such lunatic people? Well, you never know what happens at the polls, but let me tell you, I'm scared from the distance...

Reactions to a train from the hell

2010-10-30T12:48:00.000+02:00

I was in Nis (or something like that) It's in Serbia. Well, the truth is I was in Skopje and I wanted to go to Greece, but my stupid friend and I took wrong the train. Two or more hours after the departure, when the Serbian police took our passports we started to doubt we were going to Greece. I approached two girls and asked:

Me: Is this train going to Greece?

Girl (shocked): This goes to Serbia!!

Me: Oops, I wanted to go to Greece

Girl (worried): Oh my God! You should talk to the ticket inspector or something, this goes to Nis!

Me: Bah, don't worry, Greece can wait... How is Nis like?

The girl didn't respond, her friend just stared smiling because she didn't understand English or whatever language we were raping in that cabin. I didn't go to talk to the ticket inspector, he came to talk with me to charge us more money. He was an ass, the idiot saw our tickets only a couple minutes after we boarded, he didn't notice we were in the wrong train, but then he was charging us for our mistake.

Anyways, we spent some time in Nis, pretty nice place by the way. Then we took a train to Bar, that's in Montenegro, Adriatic Sea shore, pretty close to Italy, we were going there to take a boat to Bari. The train lasts almost twuenty hours to make that journey. We did not know that.

We boarded at night, the day had been very sunny and nice, but suddenly a strong storm appeared and got us wet. It was rainning a lot and the water came into the train because some windows were broken, we found ourselves a cabin with fine windows and prepared for the trip. Suddenly I saw a red laser around me and then I heard a couple of shoots, when I thought I would be dead, I noticed a little boy with a fake gun, I ignored him until I saw he was with his big boobs sister, then of course I pretended to be the classic kind guy who loves children.

That always works, his sister was mine at the second minute. Then a shitty ticket inspector came to our cabin and kicked us out, he said we had reservations and our cabin was one a couple yards away, a cabin with a broken window by the way. We argued for awhile but the guy didn't speak English, so we took advantage of that by describing him with a lot of not kind adjetivals. But we ended near a broken window which he tried to fix with some lame rope, that guy must be the McGiver from Nis or something.

Big boobs (I totally forgot her name, I'm awful with people names, don't take this big boobs as a demeaning but as complementary thing please) and his little annoying brother were with their parents, and it seemed like she didn't have space in their cabin, the place was crowded so I invited her to ours, her parents allowed his brother to come for awhile, and that sucked. We were four people with six sits, my friend was trying to sleep, the girl was into me and her brother's time in our cabin was expiring, so at that moment I thought that trip was great. Then a 25 year old male gipsy arrived to our cabin, then the train left.

We chit-chated for more than an hour, then the girl's mother came to took his kid to her cabin and put him to sleep. One obstacle was over, only one to go, so we waited like another hour for the annoying gipsy (not a racist thing, he was annoying no matter his skin, and disturbing too) to fall sleep, then we could hook up. The problem of making out with a girl who has her family in the next cabin is that you don't have complete freedom, any thought of getting laid in that train blowed up when I saw how she went off of me everytime someone passed by the aisle near our cabin. When I saw how dirty, wet and disgusting were the bathrooms I just realised I was wasting my time at all.

Even though it was being a nice trip, those little travelling platonic relationships are cool, the best I would say. We fell sleep and then when I woke up, the comfortable train I thought I was in had became in hell. Our cabin was eventually full of teenagers, some of them really drunk and noisy, eight people for six sits. Big boobs was there, talking to them, I think she was twenty, so she went along with the seventeen years old people, maybe they were twenty too, I couldn't tell, but they were retarded and very noisy.

I wanted to sleep and couldn't, so I kicked my friend and woke him up, I didn't want to go through that alone. Big boobs, who was not as cute as I remembered from the night before, introduced me to the new people but nobody there spoke English. Finally my friend opened his eyes.

Friend: Who the fuck are these noisy people?

Me: I don't know man, I think all of them are going to the beach or something, there are like a hundred teenagers in this train, at least fifty in the aisle smoking and getting drunk

Friend: Are we there yet?

Big boobs: We are almost there, only eight hours for my stop and like eleven for yours

We didn't know that trip was going to be so long, we didn't have any food, we ate all the night before, even offered some to the girl and the gipsy. For a really long time we tried to sleep and couldn't, we witnessed how teenagers argued, fought, made peace, fought again, got drunk, sober, drunk again... And overall how they yelled, all the time, very high levels there. Picture ten hours like that, sleepy, with teenagers all over and not knowing where you are and how much left it is. The view was amazing, the train went across beautiful mountains and lakes, but I couldn't enjoy it at all. By the way, the girl's brother woke up and started pointing me with his red laser and shooting at me with his fake gun all the time, this time no games with him, I sent him to fuck himself very quickly. Did I mention the bathrooms were dirty, wet and not working? I needed to crap (as always) My mp3's battery went off so I didn't have music either.

Every couple of minutes some police for some differents countries came and took all our passports for a lot of time, that train was hell. We just hanged in there really pissed while insulting and complaining, but only big boobs could understand us, due to that, we started insulting just her and she leftt the cabin, last time I saw her. I behaved like an ass. Maybe that wasn't the best reaction. These are other reactions to a train from hell:

1/ Get big boobs pregnant (I think she was anyway, those boobs were unreal)

2/ Get drunk with the teens until I passed out (Then drink more until I passed away)

3/ Being racist with the gipsy and start an argument about why and why not they should have rights (That would be a monologue though)

4/ Take the boy's gun and smash it into pieces (Or just smash the boy into pieces)

5/ Take advantage of the broken window and jump out (I tried, but the stupid ticket revisor made a really good work fixing it)

6/ Get involve in the teenager's fights (Yeah, sure, get my ass kicked was the only thing left for me that day)

7/ Destroy my passport and get arrested when the police come to check them (Spent the rest of my life in a Balkan's jail would've been better than in that train)

8/ Take a dump in the cabin and spread out the teenagers (They were so drunk they didn't notice it, just my friend and I)

9/ Take a mop and clean the train's bathrooms so I can use them (Since big boobs didn't want to... There started our relationship crisis I guess)

10/ Don't breathe until everything just goes away (The gipsy noticed my suicidal attemp and saved my life, what a retarded idiot!)

Che, I'm sorry for you

2010-10-29T13:02:00.001+02:00

Have you noticed how many people wear clothes with the Che's picture on it? It's like an epidemic, T-shirts, caps, sweaters, tatoos... There is a whole bussiness behind this dude's face. And I think this is really sad, not because I don't like the Che's history but because I know the Che's history.

This guy was a revolutionary with a very radical socialist idiology, he really heated imperialism, and look now, his face is an icon of imperialism, he is like Nike now. I think if he came to life again and he saw all those people walking around with his face, he would go back to death again, he would be so dissapointed, poor dude, devote his life to his idiology for this, Che, I'm sorry for you.

Old friends

2010-10-28T18:13:00.004+02:00

Today an old friend called me, I have to confess that since I moved out from my home town I pretty much broke all contact with it. I started travelling and doing other things. My life in my home town wasn't the healthiest so I think I won with the change. At least I've learned that for sure today.

When an old friend calls you after a couple years without any contact, he would start telling you a lot of things: "That guy had a kid, he is so fucked now" "That other guy is messed up because his girlfriend left him" "My brother is fat as hell now, you won't recognize him for sure"

And you just listen thinking: "Ok man..." Then all the personal questions arrive: "Where are you now?" "You married or what?" "Are you working in the same place?" Then the attemps of getting together: "Dude, you have to come to town with us and have fun like the old days" "What are you doing this week?" "Come on man, we miss you here"

And right now I'm the one who's fucked, one of this days I will have to go to my home town to listen a lot of stories I'm not sure I'm interesed in, tell the same story once and again about where I've been, what I'm doing now...etc. And what for? I think old friends just should meet in periods of 20 or 25 years, that's a real old friend.

Don't get a Golden Retriever my friend

2010-10-27T13:44:00.004+02:00

I like dogs, I think they are a great animal, but they come with responsabilities. You have to raise them, take care about them, feed them, play with them, walk them...etc. I honestly like doing all those things, my problem is my dog doesn't pay me any attention, he manages me like he wants.

And that's because of his beauty, I have a Golden retriever, that is a famous breed for its beauty and intelligence. They have this extremly sad gesture that makes me impossible to telling him off no matter what he does. He is totally barbarian, out of control. He makes me feel like the worst human being when I take my car, he tries to get in, I don't let him and I leave without him, I drive and feel like if I've killed somebody.

When we talk about food is even worse, the dog is fat, I won't lie to you... But just understand me man, I can't deny food to those sad eyes! I think he is so smart that he does all that on purpose, this is his strategy, he is really mean, Goldens retriever are mean. Don't get a Golden retriever my friend...

Google sucks!

2010-10-26T12:58:00.002+02:00

Don't you think? This company must be full of idiots. Of course they have a lot of money, but money is money, not intelligence. The internet has given a lot of money to geeks. If it wasn't for the internet, if this idea of connecting all the computers would have never worked, those millionaries would be serving burguers, I'm pretty sure.

Think about it, two guys from Stanford who probably had problems to get dates, made this engine for their university website and a couple of years later they were billioners. Why didn't you or me make such thing? Why them? Well, I was a boy in 1998, and you... well, you know your reasons I guess. So, What is my problem? Why I'm saying they are idiots? Just look around man, look the ads they put or let put on blogs... Are intelligent the people who is putting this ads in my blog? I think they are not, I think they are idiots.

If someone writes in his blog about women's rights, Google will put ads about: "Browse singles now" (African dating and singles). If someone decides to write about hunger and the third world, Google will put different ads: "Browse singles now" (Filipino dating and singles). If someone writes about how much he hates religion, Google will put all kind of ads like: "Scientology" (Who I am? What is my future?... Ahhh!) "Who is the Antichrist?" (Click and see..) Really Google? I don't even want to imagine what crap will they put in this post, but I bet it will be something stupid, because they are idiots, because Google sucks!

Life's videogame

2010-10-25T17:19:00.001+02:00

I like video games, I think they are amusing and fun, but I can't understand how some people spend so much time on those, particularly the life-like ones such as the Sims for example. Sometimes I think life is the best video game possible, and some people are not playing it enough.

Just think about it, picture a video game where you move yourself, with a huge beautiful scenery, where you can interact with other players and even love them. With a great video quality, free, surprising, with great stages and challenges, life is the greatest videogame possible, the dream of any player. You just need to get to know your avatar good enough, how it moves, how it thinks, where is its limit, what are its goals. In regular video games the first thing we always do is to push all the buttons to check how it goes, in this one I think we should do something pretty similar as well. Check ourselves before start playing.

Of course it has problems: Only one life, one mistake or an accident and you are done, our acts have consecuences, we can feel pain, our movements are limited, we have to spend time looking for survival (money), but other than that, I think this video game is pretty awesome. I think all of us should make the most of it and have fun before the "Game Over" sign shows up in our screen.

Honey, I love you at the moment

2010-10-24T23:40:00.002+02:00

I don't have anything against marriage, I think it's wonderful that two people love each other enough to spend their whole time together. But who do we want to fool here? Everyone has like a million people who could spend the life with, is just chance what joins us, maybe conformism and society pressure too.

I find very interesting that almost everytime a member of a couple experiments a big change in life, let's call it fame, huge promotion or lottery for example, that couple is done, that true love flyes away with prittier people or money. How many couples are still arguing about who owns that winning lottery ticket they bought holding hands, smiling very hopeful and so in love?

I think true love (calling that: soul mates, only one person for each one...etc.) just exists within ignorance. In the other hand, marriage love and respect (calling that: two people working as a team) exists and works, but just in some particular escenarios, those relationships can go away in any moment, any big change can end with the team inevitably. And that's why we should say to our partners: Honey, I love you at the moment

Being legal is too tough

2010-10-23T12:52:00.001+02:00

If hell exists it must be some sort of waiting room, I don't find a worse place in the world that those. The other day I had to go to the police station to renew my ID (we do that in Galicia, yes) Of course in the village where I live there isn't a police station, there is not even a police officer. So I had to go to the closest town with police station, a place with no more than five thousand population, shame that day the five thousand people had to renew their IDs too.

First of all you wake up early thinking that the sooner you get there the sooner you will leave, of course that is what everybody thinks and when you arrive you see a great mass of people there, just waiting, the luckiest ones reading gossip magazines pretending they just do it because they are there and no because they really like those, the others just staring at the infinite while moving a leg up and down, down and up.

I took a number and sat down, most of the people said hello because that is one of the best moments in the waiting room, when a new one enteres and becomes the most prick in the place, disoriented trying to understand what is going on there, trying to figure out how much time is he going to be there, just waiting. After a good twenty minutes of staring at the infinite witnessing how nobody called for a number I realised that this place was slow, I look to the number they gave me, it was the 53.

Me: - What's the last number they called for?

Sad old lady: - 9

That was the closest I've been to death, that cold, souless and hopeless answer made me think that maybe that old sad lady was young and happy when she came into that room. I was facing my future, and it was no good. I took a look to the people around, some of them were sleeping, maybe dead, others where just talking to themselves, obviously going nuts. A kid was playing with his Nintendo, he seemed normal until I found out he was playing with the machine turned off. An officer came and called the number 10, a very old man broke down and cried, then another old man showed the number ten ticket and after hugging and saying good bye to everybody he left.

I looked the the man criying and asked him:

Me: -Why are you crying sir? you ok?

Sad old man: - You bet I am... I'm closer than ever, only five to go...

That was it for me, I don't want to be an old man who cries because his turn has almost came. Like a hero (I'm probably a legend in that town right now) I got up, put my number in the coffe table and took off under the whisper and sounds of impression of the people there. I prefer to live with an expired ID than die with a renovated one. Being legal is too tough!

Pop Porn Star

2010-10-22T13:23:00.004+02:00

I like music, I don't have a very good ear but I can enjoy listenning to music. I think there are a lot of talented singers all over, but I want to talk about the most famous, the ones with a lot of publicity, work and money. What is going on with them? What the hell is wrong in the music industry? Are they completly nuts?

Answer: - No, they just know how to earn money (using sex)

If you are a male and you like singing, you are hot and you don't have an absolutely disgusting voice, you may get to the top. You only have to play the bad boy character, who is very sensitive and had troubles with drugs. Screw a couple groupies and break some famous girl's heart, make a song about it and you'll be a legend. Also works if you make a song about your lifetime gilfriend breaking your heart. Then make a very sensitive videoclip where a lot of pretty ladies worship you while you ignore them because you are just looking for the girl you really like and care about. Right to the top my friend!

If you are a female you'll have more competition, they may ask you for a good voice, but that is not really important in this bussiness, you need to be hot, really hot, and you have to act like you are horny 24/7. Make a couple songs about how much you like sex, how promiscuous you are, put a couple sensitive songs in your record as well just to show you have feelings and you are so badass now because someone broke your heart in the past. Then act weird, get yourself in troubles, show skin in your clips, the most recurrent is the one where you go to some beach shore and half naked you make out with a gym dude, you sing a little while you guys get wet. Then you'll just find yourself on the top.

When I watch music videoclips I honestly flip out. Right now most of them, (I mean the ones from these Shakiras, Ladies Gagas, Keshas, Katies Perrys...etc) are just porn shorts with the explicit scenes cut out. I don't care about it, I'm not complainning but just saying it amuses and impresses me. I don't think is too far the day when we'll be able to see the Pop Star of the moment grabbing a penis and singing at it like if it was a microphone in her clips. Maybe singing while some dude is eating her out or just banging her from behind, that is where this industry is going, music industry is converging with porn industry. I just hope my doughter won't ever tell me: "Dad, I want to be a Pop Porn Star"

Just let us go for God sakes!

2010-10-21T11:44:00.002+02:00

Have you ever thought about how hard is leaving a place? Everybody has a little kidnapper inside, and I think this nonsense must come to an end. You are at someone's house, you decide you are bored already and you want to go some place else, but you can't, they won't let you go.

You always need a strong excuse to be able of leaving: "I have to catch a plane" "My grandpa is ill" "Police just called me, my house is on fire" But some friendly kidnapers would even find weak those excuses: "Can't you catch the next one? I bet you do... come on, stay a little longer!" "Your grandpa is a big boy, don't worry about him, he'll be fine..." "Bah! the police always exaggerating, grab another cookie! Do you want more coffee? Don't put that face, your house is perfectly fine, I'm sure!"

When you want to leave a place you feel awful, is like breaking a really bad new. You are there, with thoughts of leaving for almost an hour before mustering the courage to actually make the first move to reach freedom by saying you want to go. Of course the first reaction to your leaving attemp doesn't work, you get up, you say goodbye but that just means you guys are going to keep talking aside the door, there, so close of the goal, but so far at the same time, since hosts always lean on the door so they have the power, only they can open it.

The saddest thing is that the host is usually dying for you to go off his house. They are just being polite, you want to leave, he wants you to leave, but he doesn't let you because he wants to be a good host, and in this culture being a good host means being a kidnaper. Life is too short to be chit-chating in front of a closed door, please let's end with this madness. Hosts of the world: Just let us go for God sakes!

My hero is Adolf Hitler

2010-10-20T13:37:00.001+02:00

Most of people hate Hitler, he was an evil racist murderer despot invader. Some people worship him due to their ignorance or aim to be part of a social group, but the normal thing is to hate this character. If someone asks me who do I admire the most and I answer "Adolf Hitler" that someone would think I'm nuts, nazi or evil.

So... How come that very same someone would find me interesting if I answer that I admire "Genghis Khan" "Julio Cesar" "Napoleon" or "Hernán Cortés" for example? I had even teachers who worshiped "Alejandro Magnum" Weren't they evil racist murderer despot invaders? Does it mean that in a hundred of years teachers will be worshiping Hitler like we do now with all those other characters? Would be streets in the future named over Adolf Hitler? Because there are streets named over "Hernán Cortés" or "Francisco Pizarro" where I live. Is Hitler going to be a great hero in the future?

I think that is not fair, we shouldn't be raising that kind of people, they were bad people, they don't deserve to be heros just because a lot of time has passed by. We must study them due to their importance of course, but worshiping them... come on man. Do you want your great-grandson saying: "My hero is Adolf Hitler"?

The afterlife

2010-10-20T00:54:00.002+02:00

I think everybody thinks a lot about this matter. I have to confess that I'm not obsessed about death, but rather curious about it. It is like the end of a movie, whether it's good or bad you want to know how it ends. I want to know who is right, if the religious people or the sane people, if there is a heaven for our spirit or if we are just a dish for the warms.

Death is a rush, something that when takes place near us affects us a lot, it get us nervous, introspective, weak... when it shows up near us it is like a reminder, "I'm still here, waiting for you". But then time goes by and we forget about death again, and I think it's normal, we can't be thinking about death all the time, it would be crazy. There is no question we will die, but it would be better if it just comes as a surprise, without having to dwell on it or suffer for years.

But let me tell you about a little unscientific theory that I have about the afterlife. It is not that I actually believe it, but I think it is a posibility. Our brain is brilliant, I think most people agree on that, it has millions of years of evolution under its belt. What if our brain had developed some sort of self-defense mechanism against death? What if our brain an instant before shutting down forever had the skills to induce our conscience into a dream?

Think about it, my English is too weak to explain this kind of things yet, but just make an effort to imagine yourself dying, your brain knowing it and protecting you (your conscience) by inducing you in an infinite timeless dream. It is a mystery to science how our brain works, how it turns electricity into thoughts, colors, feelings...etc. Why wouldn't be it able to keep working even though it doesn't exist anymore? We dream because our brain needs to be working all the time, if it stops it doesn't start anymore according to science, that's why our dreams are so lame, they are produced by one tiny part of our brain, a few tiny parts actually, but the point is that dreaming is cheap, if real life is Play Station 3 dreams are game boy... Not much scenarios to load.

Maybe our brain can put our conscience in a limited and simple scenario with only a few characters who we would be giving different personalities like we do in our bed time dreams. Our life would be over, our body would be incinerated or decomposed, but our conscience would be hanging out in some imaginary place with imaginary people forever. And if it happens to be a good dream this theory would be awesome, but I don't even want to imagine an infinite nightmare.

Shy people are discriminated against

2010-10-19T14:15:00.005+02:00

Don't you think? Shy people are very misundestood in our society and they are pretty excluded as well. People don't trust them, they say things like: He left without even say goodbye, that dude is an ass or: I saw her in the street and she didn't even stoped and chated, she is so full of herself

Shy people don't avoid talking to you because they think they are better or you suck (Maybe this happens sometimes too but is not the most common) they can't, they have like a wall to climb before tell you something, that wall is called confidence. And just for the record, telling to a shy person to not be shy doesn't work in their confidence, it makes it worse. Would you tell to a black or an indian to stop being black or indian?

The members of this discriminated community that I'm most worried about are the kids, they seem to be lonely, but when you break their wall and find the real person behind they are just normal fine kids and usually even more interesting than regular kids because of their huge imagination. I spent hours playing with a shy three year old who claimed that his yard was the ocean and we were fishes. If instead of being patient with him I had just done what most of us do and just forget about the kid thinking that he was a nut or he wasn't worth it I would have missed I great kid.

Don't discrimate shy people dude, they are easy to locate, once you find one just respect and ignore the shyness until it goes away, that won't take that long

What color is your blue?

2010-10-18T19:17:00.005+02:00

We tend to think that the world is exactly like we see it, that our point of view is the correct and the rest of people are wrong. And doing that is completely nuts, I think the world is not even close like we recieve it, all the colors, the smells, the noise... all of that is made up by our brain.

If we could see just what it is we would see trillions of cells and atoms, a huge mass of little things connected to each other and moving all over the place. I think our brain is a filter that becomes that mass in a complex selection of colors and forms. But every brain is unique.

We have our own filter, so it's very probable that everyone of us perceieves the world in a different way, very similar because we are very similar, but our reception could have some significants and amusing diferences. For example, everybody knows that the sky is blue, the blood is red and the grass is green, that is communal to all of us.

But how do we know if my blue and your blue are the same color? Who doesn't tell you that my blue is your red? They taught us since we were little kids that the grass is green, that is universal to all of us, the perception of that color green isn't. If we switched brains for a moment we probably will flip out when we saw a red sky, green blood and blue grass for example.

How can we think we have the absolute truth when we don't even know how the world exactly is? Why is it so difficult to walk in another's shoes? Next time you think someone is an idiot and is very mistaken and you are so right and smart, or next time you see Hail Mary on the top of a mountain, just think for a moment and try to answer this question: What color is your blue?

The magic equation

2010-10-17T14:02:00.000+02:00

Like everyone I guess, I usually think about the third world. How is it possible for us to live in such an unequal world? All the excess of the first world and all the destitution of the third. I find amazing that most of the people asume that with normality, like if it was necesary to be this way. But who should feel sorry for who in here? In the first world our children are fat and capricious, in the third world the children are undernourished and smiling.

It's obvious that this unequal situation is a result of the colonialism and imperialism, that is very recent yet and the countries which sufered slavery or genocide couldn't develop and they fell into extrem poverty. And we live in a very competitive world where the countries compite against each other, the problem is some of them drive Ferraris and most of them ride bicycles. And yes, sure the ferraris help the bicycles sometimes... But do they do it enough?

I think every person has a couple of primarly needs that should be undeniable: Nutrition, education, medical access, clothes, security and housing. Everyone should have these needs covered. A place to live and shelter of the bad weather, clothes to wear to be protected of the cold or humidity or whatever, an education to be more peaceful and awareness of the world, food to eat and water to drink to be able to live, a medical access to be cured when they have a curable disease and protection to feel safe.

The doubt is if all this needs could be covered in this time we're living, I'm pretty sure they are. Is it ethical to live in a world of excess when there is a world of lacks right by our side? Do we really need to send all those rockets to the space in stead of building farms, schools or hospitals? Is this Ferraris and bicycles race fair? Or should we stop the race and with the materials of the Ferraris and bicycles make equal automibiles?

What result do you think this equation has? Weath/population = x

Is it worth it?

2010-10-16T13:18:00.000+02:00

Have you ever noticed how hard is getting successful? And being successful? If you want to catch your dreams you have to make a lot of sacrifices. Most of the athletes, actors, writers, singers...etc. always say in the interviews how hard was for them to reach their dream. And it seems true.

If you want to be more than it's expected, you have to work hard, make sacrifices, lose some experiences, for example, most of the athletes didn't have a normal adolescence, they couldn't go party like the others, they missed a lot of things because they had to train a lot. If you want to be a writer you can't go out everyday and never write, you have to write a lot, if you want to be a singer you have to sing a lot, that makes you better.

You can't complain if you are a failure and you didn't do anything to not being it. Some people find consolation in blaming something or someone else. And they may be right, if you blame an injury, the bad luck or the society you don't blame youself and you can live with yourself, but that is only that... a consolation.

When you make the sacrifices, you work hard, you take your oportunity and you become successful... What's next? Well, if you are really good at something, they will make you so famous you won't be able to live, and if you are just a regular one you probably will keep fighting to be the best, if you make it you'll be famous and won't be able to live, if you don't make it you'll feel like a failure again.

All the sacrifice, all that people left behind, all that struggle and desperation, all that time fighting and waiting your oportunity and What for? To live a life you can't live because of your gift, to be a failure because there's people better than you in your thing. At the end... Is it worth it? If you have to think the answer you have already answered.

Reactions to Sofia's airport

2010-10-15T14:17:00.002+02:00

I took the plane in Madrid and headed to Skopje, but I had a scale in Bulgary's capital: Sofia. The plane was not full, but there was a lot of people, everything seemed normal. I took off and found myself in a small airport, really small, it was like a mall, and all the people left the mall at some point.

I had like nine hours ahead until my plane takeoff, and everybody in that airport disapeared, literally. I thought I must take a cab and go around Sofia for awhile, but as soon as I step foot outside the airport all the taxi drivers approached me thirsty of my money and I decided that Sofia could wait, I just would go to look for a bar and get myself a little drunk.

I boarded nine hours before my plane's departure and found out that the terminal of departures was even emptier than the part of the airport with the check in's desks and the disgusting taxi drivers in the door.

I found some kind of bar, it was like a beach's refreshment stall. There was a waitress not atractive, a waiter playing with a computer and a fifty year old male customer drinking a beer and using his laptop. I ordered a big beer and tried to get drunk quickly so time would past faster and the waitress would become prettier.

But when my beer was yet in its half, my plan changed. I gorgeous girl came to the bar, ordered some suspicious sandwhich and sat right by my side. That kind of thinks usually don't happen to me, for some reason I'm always surrounded by ugly people. Both of us knew we were condemned to become friends, so gane her simpathies wasn't a hard thing to do. I offered to buy her a drink, getting drunk in an empty airport seemed a better idea with a gorgeous girl than alone, but she didn't want alcohol, despite she had eleven hours ahead until her flight. The truth is she was amazing, she had this impressive Lebanon beauty, mixed with a Parisian look, spoke English, French, Arabic and she was only eighteen.

We talked to the fifty year old, I tried to begin a conversation before but he didn't pay me any atention, but when the hot chick was by my side I suddenly became the dude's best friend or something. He wouldn't stop talking, he was the couch of Netherland's national team of some sport I didn't know, the girl neither. After half an hour or so he left, I don't know where, but he kissed the girl's hand recalling her how pretty she was and gave me a look that said: I wish I was you lucky bastard!

And then we spent nine hours together in an empty airport, just me, her, a few waiters working in this almost bars they had, there were three, all of them looking exactly the same, and even more disturbing, the waiters and waitress looked the same as well, that airport was like a source of parallel dimensions and I was trapped in the midle. We boarded and unboarded like five times in the nine hours, the people in the "security control" (Mcdonald's have more security than that airport) were very amused by us going through the metal detector several times in an afternoon.

There were some Arabics around the airport and sometimes they came to talk and find an explanation about what the hell was going on in that empty airport, but we didn't have it. The funny thing is that I'm getting a lot of this lately, once in Austria I took a train with a friend and we were the only passengers, every single sit was empty, then I found myself in an empty airport for nine hours in Sofia and once in Skopje I went to a mall to watch Robin Hood and when the movie ended there was nobody in the mall, just the ones who were watching the movie. Is people avoiding me? I think they do.

Maybe the reason is that I always put ten stupid options at the end of everything I say or write, so, just to keep people away from me I will keep doing it, these are some reactions to Sofia's airport:

1/ Scream until someone came (Didn't work)

2/ Sit down and watch Mtv's videoclips (Just could endure two minutes)

3/ Beg the Holland national coach to teach me everything about his sport and make me the best player in its history (Whatever it was)

4/ Get married with the Lebanon girl (Have kids and raise them in that airport)

5/ Start a revollution in Bulgary beginning by take control of their capital's airport (Piece of cake)

6/ Get drunk and imagine that I'm with one of the prettiest women I've ever met (Done!)

7/ Ask for a eight hours in a lifetime job (That's more than you can take here in Spain)

8/ Sleep and make time go by faster (With all those Arabics around me?)

9/ Let a taxi driver rip me off and go to see Sofia (Just to check out if there was people in the streets or it was like the airport)

10/ Go every hour to take a dump to the bathroom (I don't know what happens to me in the airports man)

I wish I was them

2010-10-14T15:11:00.000+02:00

The world has been paralyzed lately, everybody was watching how 33 miners from a country named Chile were being rescued. I have to say I'm happy for them, know that people have survived from a tragedy is always pleasant. But honestly, I don't admire them at all... Why are they heros? All over I'm listenning how brave they are, what an example of comradeship they are, that they are heros. I don't want to be a wet blanket but... What were their options?

I'll tell you: whether heros or villein. What could they do? Or hold on and wait for the rescue like they did, or kill each other and themselves. Don't get me wrong, I'm not attacking the miners, they didn't call themselves heros after all. I'm attacking the media, it made them so famous, so brave, so heros, and now they are so screwed.

This mine's collapse is being used as a great business, for everybody but the miners. Yeah, they will win more money telling their story than would've won working their whole lives. But what's next? Will we remember any of those guys a year after the movie based on them isn't in the theaters any more? Are 33 humble miners going to asume well being madly famous for a couple weeks and then being nobody again? Does the media care about that? Do we know anything about the survivors of the plain crash in the Andes? Do we know how are they now? Do you think they are very happy people now? I heard most of them are not.

They sell us stories and we buy them like idiots, they manage us easily like they want. How come millions of people were worried for 33 miners and then hopefull and really happy for them, and those very same millions didn't give a shit of the more or less two thousand Chinese miners who died this same year? Is this coherent? Were there a lot of politicians hugging the Chinese victim's relatives like they did in Chile? Have a lot of politicians talked about and gave their support to the Chineses? Of course not, there weren't good photos and votes in China.

That's the reason why when I see this kind of things in this world we're living I just want to buried myself alive hundreds of yards under exactly like the Chilean miners were. I wish I was them!

God damn evolution

2010-10-13T16:02:00.002+02:00

Don't you think it's a shame that the only animal to have eventually reached rationality is the monkey? According to evolution We came from the Ape, and I find this extremely disturbing.

Just look at the monkeys, they act like idiots, totally freaks, jumping, screaming all over the place, behaving like freaking clowns. Gorillas suck as well, they are the same than monkeys but lazier because they are really fat. An let's not mention the fact that every single ape stinks. How could this retarded branch of species develop a brain fit for rational thinking? Why do shitty monkeys and not cool tigers, awesome lions, unbelievable eagles or amazing wolves have the honor?

Picture a world of highly developed felines, that would be awesome. Our sports would be way better and more spectacular. We wouldn't behave like idiots like we do, our women would be even prettier than the ones we have now (Don't look at me like that, just remember catwoman... Ok?) Felines are much cooler than apes and everybody knows it.

I'm glad to have developed a brain which allows me to think and have somewhat of a conscience about myself. But my point is that I would prefer to have a nicely sculptured feline body rather than this clumsy ape one, and that's evolution's fault. God damn it!

Don't be afraid of water

2010-10-12T13:43:00.001+02:00

Water means life, we can't live without it. So, How come we are so afraid of it? I´ve seen people running away faster from water than from death. And I don't mean floods or whichever natural disaster related with water. I mean water.

People walking in the street happily... it starts rainning and everybody panics, you hear screams, fear, chaos... Why? Is just water my friend. I little boy or a regular idiot with a hose in his hands trying to be cool or funny splashing everybody, people around panic, run away fast as hell. I understand that getting wet if you have an appointment is something to avoid, but still dude... Run away while screaming with a look of fear in your eye? Isn't it a little bit of an exaggeration?

Don´t be afraid of water, there are a lot or worse things that can happen to you than getting wet. Regular rain doesn't kill, trust me. Next time you are walking in the street and it starts rainning just keep walking, you'll see how you survive

Things you should know about the Balkans

2010-10-11T17:13:00.000+02:00

I made a trip around the Balkans a couple months ago. I wrote a few posts about it but then my computer decided to host some virus and I lost everything (It wasn't a big lost, just more stupid posts of mine)

The place is great, but tricky, if you are thinking to go there let me give you some tips. These are some things you should know about the Balkans:

1/ They don't like to put paper in the toilets, and if they put it they don't allow to throw it by the toilet, you have to throw it in a trash can (Those trash cans are the most disgusting thing I've seen since my neighbour passed away)

2/ Serbians love Spaniards and hate Americans and Kosovans love Americans and hate Spaniards, only depending in their goverment's politics (Serbians and Kosovans agreed in something: Both hate me)

3/ Dudes love holding hands, kissing and hugging each other... But they are anty gay people (I felt like if I was in the Little Britain's gym locker room in those countries)

4/ Tha taxi drivers are like prostitutes (I guess some things are just the same everywhere)

5/ No matter what age, all women have huge breasts in there (It would be really awesome if wasn't for those poor little girls forced to carry all that weight in their backs)

6/ If you ask to an average Balkan, he will tell you that he speaks six or seven languages when they don't speak shit (Unless knowing how to say thanks and hello makes you a language speaker)

7/ You can put effort on explaining it, but they won't understand why the fuck are you visiting their country (Every single person asked me: - Why are you here? - Just travelling around - No seriously, Why you here?)

8/ Making a reservation in a train is worthless, worse than no making it. If you don't make a reservation you can choose the best sit, if you make a reservation you have to sit aside a broken window getting yourself wet and cold (Trains there are something else, I'll talk about them pretty soon)

9/ If you go to a barber he will do all type of crazy hearcuts in your head before doing what you asked for (And laugh about it)

10/ Gipsies are accepted in their sociaety (They are obviously too backward yet)

Magic fucking wires

2010-10-07T12:41:00.001+02:00

Have you ever thought about how hard it is making a knot? Have you ever tried to make one and failed? Sailors and other professionals working with knots have a real difficult work, as a matter of fact.

So, there is something I can´t understand and it pisses me off. Why in lord´s name I fail every time I try to make a knot, but when I leave a couple of wires together they always coil and form a perfect profesional and impossible to untie knot?

The answer is simple: magic. You can leave wires alone for just two seconds and turn around, and when you turn back again you'll see a perfect knot. That is annoying, unfair... God bless the wireless future!

Reasons why I killed my neighbour

2010-10-03T02:33:00.006+02:00

She was a lovely lady in her seventies who never left her home. The most she strayed away from her home was her garage, which to be fair was not within her home, but rather adjacent twenty feet from it. For years, that was the world for her, a twenty feet walk to her garage and back, in a lost village in the middle of nowhere in which she represented one percent of the population. I don´t blame her for having been a bad-tempered old witch, I will probably become her in no time if I stay here.

Our lives crossed paths many times in recent years. I like playing soccer in my yard, which has a pretty large soccer field that allows me to kick some balls around, but never in my wildest dreams I would think that my love for soccer would be lethal, and lead to an unfortunate and almost involuntary brush with murder.

The first time a ball fell in her property I just went there with a charming smile in my face and asked for my ball and forgiveness. She gave it back to me with a smile and we even chit-chatted a little. I just told her that obviously soccer is not my sport, but that I will continue trying to improve even if it is a lost cause.

The second time it happened, three minutes after the first time, the response was even kinder. I gave her a huge smile displaying all of my missing teeth and joked about how bad player I was and how practicing might be useless. The poor lady encouraged me by telling me that from her window it looked like I was a pretty good-looking player, which I was not sure how to take, but nevertheless her support encouraged me to continue playing.

The third time the ball flew over to her property she told me that I didn´t have to ring everytime my ball fell in her house, she allowed me to jump her short wall and take the ball by myself. I thought she was the best person I´ve ever met or will ever meet.

After the fourth time I noticed her husband and son building a higher wall, which kind of confused me a bit, but did not deter me from jumping anyway.

The fifth time the ball fell in her property I saw how her husband, her son and three more men starting to place barbwire on top of the higher wall. I thought they might be worried about crime in the neighborhood, as it was recently reported that a goat had gone missing. Cursing the thieves I jumped the wall and left a large piece of my favorite shorts hanging from the barbwire.

Sixth time I found myself in front of an impenetrable wall to go through so I took my very long stick with a net which I use to clean my pool and after some effort and time I took my ball back. The people who live in the house did not really like that. Looking back, I guess that is when the hostilities started.

My stick with the net was the second casualty, the first one was the ball I couldn´t get because the lady pulled the stick off of my hands from the other side of the wall while I was reaching to grab it. That was two and a half years ago. Since there I´ve lost 47 balls, that is approximately 1081 euros. It is approximately 1080 euros more than I earned with this blog in six months.

From there it went downhill, the old witch came out to her yard with one of my balls and a huge knife and stabbed it with a murderous and daring look in her face. She also burned some of them in the chimney so I could see the black smoke from my house. I believe she also fed her hens with the remnants of my burned balls. But despite her best efforts to dispose of them, most of the balls were still sprayed around her yard. She seemed to enjoy torturing me and my balls.

As a result of her many unprovoked acts of neighborly hostility, I was left with no choice but to start stalking her (that is how we roll in my village). After studying all her movements for some time, I realized she only went from the kitchen to the bedroom and back, except for the time she would detour and used the bathroom. I found it very suspicious that she never went to her living room, but I knew there had to be a good reason for it. Once I knew all her movements and routines, and taking advantage of her husband´s departure to work, I would sneak in and whack her in the head with my machete. Clean and quick.

Then I realised how stupid my plan was. If I got rid of her body (piece of cake here in the country) and took all my balls back, everybody would suspect I killed her. Now, our village CSI team has not been known for their crime solving acumen, so I think my chances here might be around fifty fifty. I could also kill her for the satisfaction of it, but sacrifice my balls in the process. That would really be a fool proof alibi when the CSI team comes around my house (Dude, you think I would kill the lovely old lady and leave all my balls there?). In case you are thinking that a bunch of balls are not worth murder, I also have a few other reasons to do away with her:

1/ She used to steal our chestnuts (Chestnuts are holy for me)

2/ She was extremly ugly and annoying (on those basis I should kill myself too)

3/ Either with me or with no one! (She dropped me after using me to feel young again, she did not succeed)

4/ She challenged me in a duel to end with the whole ball situation (We agreed to a fist fight, she had good punchs and even though her hip was damaged she showed me some good moves, but when I could hit her on the chin and knocked her down everything came very easy, with her in the floor I just kicked her in her wrinkled face more or less until she passed away)

5/ She played soccer better than me and I couldn´t take it (Soccer is clearly a female or homos game)

6/ I don´t know why I did it I just know it felt amazing (You should try it, we call it euthanasia around here)

7) I hit her with a ball in her temple (We need to find a new goal now)

8/ She was the last one left (Now I can proudly say I am a real hermit)

9/ I´m not a good drinker (She was not a good person to drink with)

10/ It was a me-or-she situation (I´m not sure she was aware of that)

Things you do and I know because I do them too

2010-10-02T18:20:00.001+02:00

1/ You are not learning German at nights, you just changed the channel hastily when you heard someone was entering the room while watching porn (You should try German porn)

2/ You are not concern about your girl´s bestfriend because she is very promiscuous, you are concern because she is hot and she is not being promiscuous with you (But yeah, keep saying to your girl that you guys need to help her out and put her in the right way)

3/ You don´t wash your hands after peeing unless someone else is in the room witnessing (We have to stop that nonsense)

4/ You are not brushing your teeth with your finger because you forgot your toothbrush, you just couldn´t admit to your workmate that you don´t brush your teeth after eating at work (The question is: Why do workmates always offer their toothpaste to help us to clean our teeth with our disgusting finger?)

5/ Last night´s dinner with your friends didn´t make you homesick, all the alcohol and drugs you had after the dinner did (But don´t worry, your parents or girl always believe you for some reason)

6/ You don´t have a cousin working as a singer at nights, her car didn´t break and you didn´t have to give her a ride home, and of course she doesn´t live near a very isolated park, you just were banging a prostitute in your car (A cousin singing at nights? What the hell is wrong with our excuses dude?)

7/ You don´t bring your laptop to the bathroom because you like to watch movies while you take a dump, you are jerking off with online porn (God bless Wi-Fi right?)

8/ Of course you pee in the shower my friend (All pipes join at one point, so where is the big deal?)

9/ You don´t read book´s forewords because you are lazy (They are boring anyway)

10/ You don´t like to dig holes in the midle of the night, you just murdered your annoying neighbour (Only me?)

Fear of the third "what"

2010-09-28T12:50:00.001+02:00

Have you ever thought about how many wars, fights, misunderstandings or tragedies could have been avoided if we weren´t afraid of the third what?

And usually is not the recipient´s fault, some people just speak in very low voice, and when you use your first what, they repeat the sentence in the same very low voice, not giving you other chance than burn your second what, but then they repeat it again in low voice and the misunderstandings appear.

If you have confident with the speaker you can yell at him or make a joke so he starts talking higher, but when you don´t have any confident with the speaker at all, you are afraid to death to say "what?" for the third time in a row, some people is even afraid of the second what, but they are pussies.

This is happening today, in your neighbourhood, in your town, right now:

Gentleman: (in low voice) ... and then you have to press the red button so it won´t explote and none of us will die in case of a nuclear fission

Coward: (did not understand) Excuse me... What was that again?

Gentleman: (same low voice) Yeah, I was saying that you have to press the red button so the power station won´t explote and none of us will get killed in case of a nuclear fission

Coward: (did not understand again) What?

Gentleman: (with a tiny higher voice) In case of an emergency refired to a fission always press the red button because if you don´t do it everybody of us will die

Coward: (did not understand yet) Ah... of course, of course, got it...

Consecuence of the cowardice: Everybody will die

I know what you are thinking, and yes, of course everybody knows perfectly that in case of a nuclear fission you always have to press the red button, It just was a metaphor. (Well, I don´t know exactly what a fission is, but it sounds bad doesn´t it?)

My advice is simple, if you have to ask more than two times do it, you are not alone, the third "what" is there to be used, it is there for you, don´t be afraid, don´t let us die.

Things I did not know

2010-09-18T14:24:00.000+02:00

When I lived in my home town and just related with my friends of the neighbourhood, gypsies, bums, Portuguese’s sailors living in their ships, illegal Africans or the other Galician people of the city. I used to think I was a genius, that I knew everything about everything.

But when I started travelling, to meet other styles of life and a lot of different people, I understood I was and I am really ignorant. I was living in a bubble, sadly that happens to a lot of people, the problem is not everybody realizes it and just think they know everything about everything. Just in case you are an ignorant like me. I want to share some knowledge with you that I have learned a bit ago. These are some things that I didn’t know:

1/ Hens don’t need to be fucked by cocks to have eggs, eggs are hen’s menstruation (Living in the country has given me a lot of knowledge hasn’t it?)

2/ The constellations are different depending of the hemisphere you are in. In the hemisphere south they can’t see the Ursa Major or the Usra Minor because they don’t exist in there (So girls, if you go to some country below the equator and some dude starts telling you about the Ursas just know he is full of shit)

3/ Comoros, Djibouti, Marshall Islands, Nauru, Palau, Saint Kitts and Nevis, Tuvalu and Vanuatu are real countries (I think I’m going to them Would you?)

4/ There are independentce movements in Texas, they want their own country (I don’t see what the problem is for the other 49 States)

5/ If you sing or talk to a cow she would give you better milk because that takes away their stress (Watching old women singing and talking to their cows gives me stress)

6/ Writing agressive comments in blogs or newspapers is the best substitute of sex (Masturbation still works though)

7/ There are a level of Gothic people where they go to a cemetery, look for someone’s grave and sleep the night over it to get an advice of that particular person. And they have top graves; some people’s graves are better than others according to them (Don’t ask me why I know that please, but my back is killing me)

8/ There is a place around Siberia where in one mile you are in a day and in the next mile you are one day and 23 hours ahead (I have never understood why we have different times though Why don’t have the same hour in the whole world? I don’t give a shit if my 3am for example is full of sunshine)

9/ The poorest billion people on earth create as much negative environmental impact as the richest billion (The difference is the first billion do it for fun and the second billion to survive)

10/ There are countries where everyone knows who the mafiosos are and everyone knows who the corrupt politicians are but there are no laws to stop them (That is funny for me, and that’s why I’m going to live in Kosovo for awhile)

Reasons why you are reading this

2010-09-08T17:20:00.002+02:00

I´m sorry I interrupted your busy day. Since I started putting comments in newspapers webs to bring people here I´m finding out a lot of things. A lot of people follow stupid comments, and even more worrying: A lot of people read the comments in the newspapers webs. Really? I have a sad existence, but dude, go to the comments, read them, follow them, reply them and even get involve in discussions? That´s sad (Yeah, sure, they should write a lame blog nobody reads or likes and spend 30 minutes per day putting spams, that is not sad)

At this point I should explain what is this blog about. We have 4 types of posts:

Ways/ This type talks about ways of doing things and ways of dealing with miseries and weird situations. For example, one is about how to say No to going to a mass.

Things/ This kind is the worst, it talks about different things that I like, hate or whatever the drugs make me write.

Reasons/ Well, you are in one of those right now. I explain things I do or witness, I don´t know why yet.

Reactions/ I use these ones to redeem myself of stupid reactions to stupid situations that I usually live. I´m awful at reactions.

Then we also have some entries of such thing as an Alter Ego. Some dude sends me entries sometimes, I find that interesting, funny and worrying, so I add some tips inside brackets and then post them.

And that is pretty much it. I am not selling you anything, I´m just giving you the oportunity of choosing. I have shown you the existence of this blog, now you choose if you stay or leave. And yes, I write like a retarded, that is why I´m a retarded and from Spain. So yes, you have been reading something written by a fucking Spaniard. I´m sorry for you, but relax, is not completly your fault, your life may be good after all. These are the reasons why you are reading this:

1/ You are a kind person who spends his time reading blogs all over the internet because you think real writers are overrated. You like to help and impruve the skills of new anonymous writers by leaving instructive comments on their posts (You need to get a life sucker)

2/ You are learning English and you are basically reading everything you find in this language (Keep searching then)

3/ You were just reading the news in the NY post and for some reason you went down to the comments, you followed one and ended up here reading this (You have to stop following random comments dude, look at you now. How could you get over this awful experience?)

4/ You are my mom (Hi mom, How are you?)

5/ You always go wherever the comments in the news send you (If I did that I would be surrounded by feeces)

6/ You are one of my ex-girlfriends tracking me out in the internet (Wow, you must be really ugly then)

7/You are a crazy human being full of hate and you like going through people blogs and leave agressive comments to feel better (I guess there is two of us now, I love that shit)

8/ You are in prison and the gardian punished you (My humble advice: Go back to the showers)

9/ You are a completly idiot who doesn´t have very much to do with his life (You should write a blog)

10/ You are a cop investigating me for pederast after someone told you about the things I say in this blog (I swear he seemed to like it)

Ways of reaching salvation

2010-09-08T13:41:00.002+02:00

If you have been reading any of my blogs at this point you probably already realize that I’m a complete idiot. But please don’t confuse this clearly obvious fact with a lack of self-esteem on my part.

The reality is that I have above average insight into my own stupidity, which makes me actually a pretty unique individual. Trust me, I see stupidity around me on a daily basis on people that simply don’t see it in themselves. They live in this kind of delusional state in which they see themselves almost on the same pedestal as the imaginary God they worship.

So since we are on this topic, let’s talk about God for a little while. I’m starting to get to an age where I can no longer afford to ignore religion anymore. If you have read any of my previous entries, you probably realize too that I might not have much longer to live. My own stupidity is likely to do me in sooner or later. Whether it is drowning myself accidentally while trying to drink a glass of water too fast, or simply forgetting to wake up one morning, I’m starting to feel some existential anxiety about what is going to happen to me once I die.

For this reason I entered a journey of discovery to find the one true religion before it is too late. The last thing that I want to do is to miss out on some grand price after death just because of ignorance and stupidity. Heck, if I’m not getting laid in life, I might as well hope for seventy-two virgins waiting for me once I move to the other side. With my luck, that is exactly what is going to happen, I will choose wrong and then be stuck watching how some other lucky dog fools around with the virgins.

But what if there is a good reason those seventy-two ladies are virgins? Or what if during my mid life crisis I decide I’m gay, will I get seventy-two dudes? These are really hard questions to answer. So for the sake of argument, let’s just say that Islam is a bunch of crap and Christianity is the real one? I can just picture myself in front of God asking him for the seventy-two virgins, begging to access heaven to see if they are waiting for me there. If God actually reads my blogs I might as well head straight to hell without talking to him. But then I wonder, what if the true religion is some kind of obscure religion developed in some remote village in Asia? I’m too lazy to actually do any research in this area, it is like a sinister lottery the way I see it.

You have dozens of religions to pick from, and all of them are completely nonsense except for one, but which one? Should I become a Mormon, sometimes I wonder, that Joseph Smith guy just sounds like a really cool dude, one of us really, and I could go for the whole polygamy thing too, so maybe I should become a fundamentalist Mormon. Or maybe scientology is the way to go. It is pretty cool to think that my spirit could be immortal, or pretty scary if you consider that I might just keep writing this blog for all eternity…

To be honest, I think I’m doomed whatever I do. With my luck, the chances that I will pick the right religion to follow are closed to zero, which means that it is highly likely that I would end up following some type of nonsensensical religion to begin with. But now that I think about it, there is even a more disturbing possibility out there. What if the true religion is yet to be discovered? Really, more than a true religion what human kind is searching for is a satisfying explanation about the origin of life and its purpose.

If we look at it this way, hasn’t science long past religion as a more sensible explanation for some aspects of our existence? The theory of evolution might or might not be true, but it surely makes more sense and has more scientific support than any alternative explanation at this point. So for now, I think this lazy idiot is just going to wait for science to do all the work for me, and you should pray that my spirit is not eternal because I might just keep writing nonsense for eternity.

Eternity sounds like a long, long time, too much for my taste. Could I wait for science to do my work while petting my balls on and on just waiting for death? Well, yeah, maybe... I can, but that is just because I am really lazy. The truth is I am so lazy that I only have sex during earthquakes (yeah, you wish)

The thing is that I write this blog for you, not for me (once again... yeah, you wish) I really care about you, whoever is reading this lame crap. Let´s be honest, my soul has sailed, I’m already fucked, but you, you my friend, you still have time, you can still be saved, and that’s the reason why I made some research just for you. Here are some foolproof ways of reaching salvation:

1/ Get into Christianity. Study about the hippy Jew. Eat his flesh. Sing his songs. Pray his prayers. Give him money to light some candles, get new bibles and more comfortable sits in church, perhaps better wine. Give them some more money to feed priests, nuns, monks, archbishops, abbots, abbes, cardinals, popes and basically all of Vatican’s population and some more religious workers we don’t even know exist. Sure, they will make you feel guilty about being alive, remind you at every step of all your sins, real or imagined, past or present (how the fuck is it my fault that Adam ate the damn apple?), but if you find the right priest he might offer you salvation (if you suck hard enough).

2/Fuck gentiles and join the only real religion. Judeism of course... They are rich, they have lots of money, savings in the bank and they even... well... some of them are actually quite funny, mostly because they make fun of themselves... Ok, let’s face it, the odds of Judaism leading to salvation are quite long, but who cares if you go out in style (like by hitting your head against the wall a tad to strongly).

3/ You can always embrace Islam. I honestly think this is the most committed religion. It is a religion of peace if you are not an infidel, in which case you deserve to be beheaded. I find such passion very appealing, there are no halfway measures here, you live life to the fullest, and then death brings an eternity of orgasmic pleasures (How long do you think it takes to give it to all seventy-two virgins? I’m guessing about 48 hours, tops, not trying to brag, I made the math. Every male and lesbian should strongly consider this religion).

4/Sign in for Hinduism and discover a brand new world of craziness. There are a lot of types, but the most important thing you should know is they have reencarnation. If you want to reborn as a different person this is your religion (Budism would be my favorite brand, except for the fact that I could only be reborn as an inferior being, there is no way but down for me, so not very appealing…)

5/ Confucianism and Taoism. Don’t choose these ones, they are bullshit, they would respect too much your opinion, your life style, other religions... The true religion can’t be so soft, you need some blood on your hands to have any real chance at Salvation (anything less is just a lack of commitment).

6/ Then you’d have a lot of different folk religions around the world, impossible choosing one, not just because they are so many but because they are completely insane (And let’s be honest, God doesn’t seem to care too much about them, just take a look at your friends the Native Americans)

7/ Mormonism, I personally love this one. Some yank thought one day that he didn’t like Christianity and decided to extract his own religion from it adding some smart things like poligamy, tough taxes, and traveling missions. It is hard not to root for Mormonism as the true religion (unless you are not American, of course, and then you probably think those people are just smoking crack).

8/ Scientology can be a safe call. No one could believe such an insane thing if it wasn’t true. And it is one of the most expensive if not the most, which clearly serves as proof of its veracity. You won’t get into Heaven for free pal, so you better start saving if you want to save your soul (they really one upped the Mormons on this one, this is American capitalism at its best).

9/You can always join homosexualism. They have great fun outfits, they make cool parades, they have good jobs, they are good looking, they are more everyday, and even though they walk weird and they have some disgusting and painful rituals they seem to be happy (What? It is not a religion? Damn, I shouldn’t have made that deep research of this topic I guess)

10/ Forget about everything and just join a sect, but not just any sect, join the reptilians, they are awesome. They believe in cloning themselves and then put their memories inside the clones, they think they are extraterrestrials, and the greatest thing, they thing that the people that lead our world are reptiles undercover manipulating us in order to exterminate us or whatever (David Icke is the man! You won’t reach salvation, but you are going to have a lot of fun trying to unmask all these reptiles like Obama, Queen of England or Kris Kristofferson)

After deep thought, I have made my decision, but I won’t try to poison your mind or influence your decision by offering it to you. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be saved, my reasoning is fool proof, and I think you might have a good chance at salvation as well, just have faith my friend.

Ways of hurting myself

2010-08-19T06:45:00.004+02:00

As a matter of fact I am stupid. I always choose the wrong ways of behaving and I suffer it physically. These are some ways of hurting myself:

1/ I was going to take a plane. They gave me the ticket in the check-in desk, then I had to put my passport back in my backpack, to do so, I had to hold the ticket with my mouth. And then, when I put the passport in its place and I wanted to take the ticket off my mouth, I found out the ticket was stuck in my lip. I tried to take it off but couldn't, it wasn't coming off. Finally, after a few tough seconds I decided to pull very hard and it came off. But my lip started bleeding (I did not find it funny, people around did)

2/ I was going to sleep. I dropped myself on my bed very tired and my head crashed with the wall (I had a rough time to falling sleep that night)

3/ Someone told me: - Do not touch that, it is very hot. I touched that and got burned (Not the only want right?)

4/ I went to the movies to watch "Stardust" (I'm still recovering from the damages)

5/ I tried to impress a group of females by jumping from I high bridge to the sea (It came I did not have the skills to impress them or jumping)

6/ Someone told me: - If you don't know how to use a skate you should not go down there. I went down there and even more down than down there (Lot of wounds from this particularly one)

7/ For some reason I thought going through the stairs skipping two steps every step was a fun thing to do (I was mistaken)

8/ I had sunblock. I just thought I was to cool to put sunblock on. I got sunburned in several places (I looked like a disgusting fucking English or German in Marbella for a couple weeks)

9/ It seems like is very difficult for me to put my penis through the pant's zipper to pee (understand what you want)

10/ I am so lazy I wanted to cut my nails so short so they would last to grow and I wouldn't have to cut them again soon. Not my best idea (Did you know you can bleed by your nails?)

Reactions to taking a photo to a demanding couple

2010-08-13T12:49:00.010+02:00

I miss the past. Earth is turning on too fast. Do you remember ten years ago when people just go out with a wallet and keys? Now everything has changed, today we are some kind of videogame’s character going around full of items. I don’t know in America, but here in Spain most of guys are using purses (They call them big wallets, but believe me, they are purses)

I go around and all I see is people manipulating their cell phones, I go to a concert and all I see is people taping the concert. You are already watching it! Why the fuck do you need to tape it? Enjoy it bitch! (If you can enjoy Spanish singers…) I think people don’t live anymore, they tape life to watch it at home, to show it. They need to show, we have to prove everything in this edge:

- Have you been in the concert last night?

- Yes, I have

- If that’s true prove it! Show me you were there! Where is your video mother fucking liar?!

I watch on TV a journalist with his camera and his microphone in the street and all I see is people behind him taping him… Why do you guys do that? They have a better camera, a pro camera. If you want the video watch it in your TV, don’t tape his back with your disgusting cheap mobile.

When I was a boy if I watched myself in a TV I would freak out. That was cool, if I went to a mall and there were those cameras taping everything connected to a monitor I would spend the whole day putting faces and being on air… But now, for today kids being on TV is as normal as breathing. Everything is taped, their whole life is taped, being on TV is not a big deal, you don’t see kids putting faces to mall’s cameras anymore. And that is very sad.

And finally, approaching to today’s point. Do you remember when couples used to ask you to take them a photo, you take the photo, they say thank you, you say you are welcome, they say goodbye, and you leave? That was life uh? Now this is completely impossible, everybody must be an almost professional photographer. I swear when I had to take a photo to someone I always did my best. But since they were those cameras you had to wait a couple days to see your photos whether I did it well or wrong it didn’t matter… How I miss those cameras!

Now when someone asks you to take a photo is like a surprise exam. You know you have to do it well, because that someone is going to check in his camera your work, and more than this: He is going to mark you, you are going to pass or fail. Indifference is not an option.

So, there I was, in a pretty touristic Galician place, beautiful Celts historical remains. A thirty year old couple approached me and asked me if I could take them a photo, I said yes. They hugged, showed me their love stills alive and I took the photo. Then I gave them back their digital camera and thought I was done. I was mistaken. This is what happened:

I give them back the camera and start walking away. The probably not good fucked girlfriend sees my picture in her camera. Her face says she doesn’t like it. She shows it to her probably tiny dick boyfriend and his face says he doesn’t like it. He calls me. I turn:

Boyfriend: Excuse me sir… Could you take us another picture please? This one seems to be a little bit moved…

Me: Oh, I’m sorry… Thought it was okay… Sure I can, give it to me

Girlfriend: Thank you a lot… It was pretty moved though

I take the camera. They pose showing me their love again. I put effort on my work: I assure myself they are in the centre of the picture, that behind them is the Celt’s stuff, that some sky is in the target too… In resume, I take and awesome photo. I give the camera back to the man this time. He sees the picture. His face says he doesn’t know what to think. He shows his girlfriend. Her face says she doesn’t like it.

Girlfriend: This one is moved as well honey…

Me: Is it?

Boyfriend: Yeah man, sorry… You have to be careful, this camera is very sensitive, try again please

Me: Ok, give it to me

I take the camera. I put a lot of effort this time. More effort than I put in anything in my whole life. Couple in the middle, hugged as always, smiling as always, sky on top, Celt’s stuff behind, even I recall a fucking bird around. I take one of the best pictures ever taken. The boyfriend comes to me as soon as I finished and he takes the camera off my hands. He sees the picture. His face is unreadable. He shows his girlfriend. Her face says she is pissed.

Girlfriend: Is this a joke?

Me: Excuse me?

Girlfriend: This picture is awful, just awful… Honey, are you seeing this? It’s awful…

Me: Are you sure? It seemed perfectly fine to me

Boyfriend: Bub, this picture is fucked up… Have a look

He gives me the camera back. I see the picture I just took. It looks like a perfectly normal picture, not moved, centered, both are with a nice gesture, it is great photo.

Me: What seems to be the problem? I find this picture really cool

Girlfriend laughs cynically being insulted. She looks to her boyfriend looking for male protection.

Boyfriend: Take us another one and let’s get over it already

Me: Okay…

Once again I put a lot of effort in the thing. I take care of every little detail and then I push the button. I look the picture carefully before give the camera back. The photo is good. I give the camera to the girlfriend expecting a thank you and a good bye. She sees the picture with an angry look. She looks at me very mad.

Girlfriend: You are enjoying this aren’t you? Is this how you have fun around this place? Honey! Look at this crap!

The boyfriend sees the picture. He and I know the photo is perfectly fine but since he is a short dick piece of shit without personality he pretends he is mad at me.

Boyfriend: Is that difficult for you to take a properly picture pal? Are you seven years old?

Me: I’m sorry I’m not a professional photographer… I think all the pictures I took are perfectly fine though

Girlfriend: Your pictures are shit and you know it (And yes, here the girlfriend crossed the line that divides me in a good and a bad person)

Me: Are they shit uh?

Girlfriend: Worst piece of shit pictures I’ve ever seen

Me: Okay… Brad and Angie… I did my best, but maybe the material I’m working with is weak Didn’t you think in that possibility? That maybe the pictures are awful because you guys are an ugly couple, a really ugly couple… And of course, it’s very difficult to take a good picture to a pregnant woman…

Girlfriend: I am not… How dare are you scumbag?

Me: I’m sorry you are a two. One point for each breast, that’s the only thing that saves you. For the rest, you have a really fat ass, huge ass, fat tummy, you are actually fatty everywhere… Your face is ugly, big nose, bad made up, your eyebrows are gone Why fatties like you always take away the eyebrows? Do you really think that makes you look thinner? You are wrong! (She wasn’t that fat, she actually was a five or a six, the classic woman a little bit overweighed with great teats and a cute face, but you know, I was pissed)

The girlfriend looks to her boyfriend expecting a defense. The boyfriend tries to defend his girlfriend. I get ready to run because the boyfriend can easily beat me.

Boyfriend: You are a piece of shit, even more than your fucking pictures! Do you have mirrors at home? Because you are the ugliest bastard here

Me: Does it mean I have a chance with your girl then? Because she is clearly into ugly dudes… Your nose is huge and disgusting, I can see hairs coming out of it and that repulses me. You are bald, with huge eyebrows… Did she lend you hers or what?

The boyfriend gets aggressive and his girlfriend holds him.

Girlfriend: Let’s go honey, he doesn’t worth our time, he worth a shit.

They leave and I go back to the people I was with. They ask me where I was. I tell them my story. They laugh at me and make fun of me. I think I reacted like and idiot. These are better reactions to taking a photo to an exigent couple:

1/ Be patient and keep taking them photos until they were satisfied (Let’s be honest, my photos stunk)

2/ Explain to them I’m doing my best and that they can not be so demanding with random photographers like myself (What was all that shit about? What did they expect? A fucking Marie Claire cover?)

3/ Ask to another person to take them the bloody photo (Don’t let him go until I found the photo really good taken)

4/ Approach the woman while she was mad, give her a really wet kiss and run away (I liked her)

5/Take just photos of the woman’s breast (That’s pretty much what I did)

6/ Run away with their camera and never go back (I need to practise my photo’s skills)

7/ Smash the camera into pieces in front of their demanding faces (Complain about the low quality of their disgusting fucking camera)

8/ Through the camera to their faces causing them bleeding wounds (Their huge noses would have stopped the hit without problems. There are a lot of couples with huge noses don’t you think? I just leave it there)

9/ Take photos of my cock while they were looking to the other way (Then they will know what a good picture is)

10/ Take a Celtic’s sword and decapitate them. Then set their heads and their bodies according to my taste and take a great professional photo (Would have been funny putting her head over his body and vice versa)

Reasons why I burned my head

2010-08-12T07:41:00.004+02:00

Well, yeah, my head is sunburned, and it sucks and hurts. I am not bald, yet at least, but I am suffering a bald discomfort. So, why would someone with plenty of hair on his head burn his head? Answer: With bad luck mixed with stupidity.

I live in the country, really in the country, where I live there are only houses, old people and old animals, we don’t have shops, or any stores at all. There is a small village like five miles from here, there are some shops and stores, but it still is the country. When I lived in my home town, even though it was a small town, I had almost everything, a lot of stores, a lot of people, buildings, drugs… It was good.

When I came to this place, I had to look for everything again, a new bakery, a new grocery, a new barber shop, new friends, new prostitutes, new drug dealers, new satanic groups, new kids to be molested… It was like hell at the beginning, but thank God I found almost everything at the end.

The barber I found was actually more like a beauty salon, it claimed to be unisex and the name was the name of the hair dresser, so everything was great: A woman cutting my hair, giving me amazing massages at the end, charging me less than I was used to. In that place I was the funny bohemian guy who went there once a month to cut his hair and have fun (Okay, there is a possibility where I was the guy who thought he was funny and bohemian, but was actually annoying and missing a tooth, and instead of cutting his hair and having fun I was cutting my hair and inconveniencing everybody)

My problem arrived when I had this conversation with my barber-hairdresser: (I don’t have to translate this time, every single barber or hairdresser in Spain speaks fluent English)

Hairdresser: You are not going to believe this

Me: Damn. Because of the massages you gave me you are now pregnant and want me to marry you

Hairdresser: Mmmm… What did we tell you about saying weird things in this store? Didn’t you read our new policy dedicated specially for you?

Me: Come on Susi, that was funny… hehe

Hairdresser: It wasn’t funny at all as always, and it was offensive as always… And please, stop calling me that. My name is not Susi jackass! (I had a lot of fun in my barber shop, I loved it)

Me: I have a lot of fun in this barber shop, I love it

Hairdresser: You know we are “very” glad about that… Point was, we are closing this store and opening another in this same street, it is going to be bigger and different, you are going to love it

Me: Are you closing? What the heck Susi? I thought we had a deal

Hairdresser: No we didn’t, stop saying that please

Me: How is going to be the new store like?

Hairdresser: It is going to be bigger than this one, better than this one. And it is going to be really awesome, you will see

Me: (At this point I saw that my hair was already cut) Ok, I’m glad, it seems like my next hair cut will be in the new store… I think I’m done for today Would you finish me off already?

Hairdresser: You’ll have to stop talking like that while giving me suggestive-disgusting looks if you want to be allowed in my new store

Me: (I got up and prepared to leave) Well, see you soon then…

Hairdresser: By the way, my new beauty salon will be called: Barbie’s salon. Bye

Believe it or not, I have dignity. I can cut my hair in a unisex but actually woman’s beauty salon and I have for a couple of years. But I can not cut my hair in a place named: Barbie’s salon. I am not a Barbie, no one where I live is even close to being a Barbie. I don’t know why they are using that fucking name. So, since I run off of hair’s cutters. I thought my best solution was to skin my head. And that is what I did. I shaved my head. Then I went out with the sun and I sunburned my head.

So, right now I am an idiot with his head red, without hair and a barber shop. I swear this is what happened, but just in case you don’t believe me. These are other reasons why I burned my head:

1/ I am actually a 23 year old bald guy missing a tooth and with wounds in his tongue (Are you girls looking for a summer love?)

2/ I had really long hair and some guys from the village thought it would be funny to set it on fire (I made a lot of good friends around here, it was funny though, for them…)

3/ I shouldn’t have performed cunnilingus on her (I’m allergic to vaginas fluids, they burn my skin and make my balls itchy)

4/ I hit a light by mistake, burning my head and making a fool of myself (In this case, hitting the light and making a fool of my self was not related)

5/ Because of the fucking maid I started working as a yogis and I am still very much a rookie (By the way, I need a new assistant)

6/ I thought setting fire to myself was the least boring thing to do in the country (I was right)

7/ I have a crush on a girl working at intensive care at the hospital (She is still not interested in me and I’m running out of places to burn in my body)

8/ The only reader of this blog found me and took his revenge (This entry is my revenge to his revenge)

9/ I can not afford to buy a hat, which is why I made an account on adsense (I have 14 cents already!)

10/ I am an idiot who thought he was too cool to put sun block on his head and now he is fucked up (Fuck my life)

Reasons I hope my landlord falls of a cliff

2010-07-15T11:43:00.005+02:00

My much handsomer alter ego is currently in a country called Kosovo. He has a landlord that he doesn’t like. I shall assume his persona… now (Does someone really understand anything about this whole alter ego crap?)

When I first got to Pristina (the capital) and saw the house I was living in, it looked fine. The landlord had just contracted the home and it was freshly built; everything seemed sleek and modern. The house has four floors, a group and I occupy three floors with three of us on each floor and the landlord uses the basement apartment.

The landlord was there for about a week and left. He works in Germany and I didn’t mind seeing him go. The floors each have their own doors but we are a big group and leave them open allowing us to treat it as one big home, using the stairwell to visit each other at our leisure. Not having some creepy landlord at the bottom of the stairwell didn’t seem like a bad idea. Then things started happening. Imagine a demonically possessed house of ineptitude. These are the reasons I hope he falls off a cliff:

1/ Internet is included but the cheap bastard left us with one wireless router for nine of us, each with our own laptop. He didn’t spring for the largest bandwidth and it crashes all of the time (Are you guys living without internet? Oh my Gosh! Kosovo is a so tough place… Be a man for God sakes!)

2/ The home was supposed to be fully furnished for us but half of the rooms have nothing but futons in them. I live like a cloistered monk. I love keeping my clothes on the floor and being surrounded by four white walls when I go to bed every night (It reminds me of the mental institution, those were the days) (Okay, I concord in this one, that mental institution was amazing, shame some of us got out)

3/ The water pressure doesn’t reach the top floor and the people living up often have to come downstairs to take a shower when we all have to leave for work in the morning. (I can’t believe you super American guys still alive… I didn’t take a shower since a week already and I am very healthy and fine so far dude!)

4/ My toilet broke because the cheapest possible parts were used. If any of you have lifted the lid on a toilet, there is a plug that opens and closes to allow it to fill with water and then release it when you flush. He bought a piece that doesn’t fit properly so that it lets water through, the cistern doesn’t fill up and thus the toilet doesn’t flush. Of course the first time it didn’t flush on me, I had just relieved myself in the secondary fashion (I was taking a shit) and I had to leave my poop there without knowing what the hell to do. Somehow the maid our landlord hired got it all to go down without the flush working.
I have become a defecation nomad since I don’t like to use my housemates’ toilets. I go in restaurants and at work whenever I can. (Okay alter ego or whoever the hell you want to be, this is something I learned a week ago: TMI)

5/ The neighbors are right on top of us and loud as hell. The landlord decided to build a house on a narrow plot surrounded by shrieking neighbors. They prefer settling their many family disputes after midnight. I’m sure they can’t go out in daylight. Although the children like to go out in the daytime and bicker in their high-pitched whines while I am trying to get work done in my room. (I understand your pain in this one, it’s very difficult to be focused working while there is noise all around and when your work is being masturbated)

6/ A door fell of its hinges. Yes a brand new door on the first floor simply came off of its hinges. (Would anyone like a sled? It’s made of a great wood) (This blog is full of fucking publicity or it’s just me?)

7/ Remember the maid he hired? She cleans our house once a week. Great right? Nope, she steals. Not just money but random things. She stole my friend’s purple eye shadow. What a slovenly wench wants with makeup is beyond me. (You have to respect maids man, you don’t want to deal with Jenny again do you?)

8/ Remember our Internet? It doesn’t work anymore. Is it the company’s fault? No, he just hasn’t paid the bill. How do we know? Because when we try to go online, the internet service directs to a page that tells the landlord that he hasn’t paid and offers him convenient links to pay; such as with a bank account or even western union!
Our truant piece of shit landlord doesn’t pay bills. There is an electric bill we received that is past. (I’m seriously starting to be attracted to your landlord man)

9/ Perhaps he’s strapped for cash and waiting for our rent to clear you might wonder. No, we game him 2700 Euros before we even got there for two months rent. This is a country where the per capita GDP is les than 2000 dollars a year. We gave him a small fortune. The Internet bill is 30 Euros; the electric bill is 65. (Definitely, that guy is my new hero, an old Kosovan ripping off a bunch of young Americans is something remarkable)

10/ We are in Kosovo. The court system is ready to handle complaints against landlords. It would take us years to get our claim. I want him in jail. I want him to fall off a cliff. (Maybe you guys should give him some more money in exchange of him falling off a cliff. He seems to be a guy whom you can trust)

Things I am ashamed of

2010-07-12T19:38:00.003+02:00

Everybody has secrets, everybody is hiding something from his friends, relatives or partners. That is perfectly normal, people are insecure and we need to pretend we are like everybody else even though all of us are different. I have to say I am tired of that. I want to get out the closet and confess my secrets. These are things I am ashamed of:

1/ One day I was at home and they broadcasted Hanna Montana’s movie on my TV. I watched it and even liked it (Almost cried when she sang: The climb in front of her family and fans being just Miley)

2/ I listen to Taylor Swift’s music sometimes (She is very relatable…)

3/ I have to shit in the airports because I get nervous before flying (US airports are the best to shit, but the greatest restrooms have always been in the museums, try it and you’ll find out what real cleanliness is)

4/ I don’t like American Football, I watched at the stadium the match with most scoring in playoff history and I was pretty bored the whole time (The extra time was just a tragedy for me)

5/ I type just using two fingers (I usually do a lot of things using two fingers ladies...)

6/ This blog (Thanks God it is anonymous)

7/ I prefer very bad movies than very good movies because they amuse me more (The guy who made the Sixth sense is gradually becoming my hero)

8/ I prefer black women than whites, I find way more attractive blacks than whites (Black women don’t find me attractive, I don’t fulfil their expectations according to them)

9/ I had to babysit a two year old girl once and she managed me like twenty-year-olds do (She just realized she was smarter than me and used that to her benefit to eat all the ice cream, M&Ms and chocolate she wanted)

10/ I usually use the bidet (That’s the reason why I came back to Spain)

Ways of dealing with a maid

2010-07-07T14:24:00.003+02:00

I have to find a work as soon as possible, the life of doing nothing is over for me. The reason: My parents hired a maid. You don’t appreciate the home life until an unknown person starts working in your house two mornings per week. She is a normal person though, where I live it is very common that women without studies or working experience work as maids while their children are at school. My maid is almost fifty, not attractive at all and not particularly outgoing if you are wondering.

You wake up unkempt, disoriented and with a huge boner, then you raise your head and you find an unknown woman cleaning your corridor. Or you want to have breakfast but your maid is cleaning the kitchen and the living-room at the same time. You just want to watch TV while waking up, but since someone is working in the same place you feel so bad that you have to leave. There are only inconveniences in having a maid working at your house.

The truth is that you feel guilty just for being at home, you see her doing her stuff and think: Well, I guess I could have cleaned that…I’m sorry I don’t know why I didn’t pick up those socks from the floor… Damn! I should have picked up those crumbs myself… You don’t have to make my bed, it is not necessary…Are you sure my mom commanded you to have sex with me?

The worst is with the bathroom though. I can’t take a shit when I know someone is in the other side of the door waiting to clean it. I can’t even pee knowing she is there, too much pressure. What if I miss the toilet or something? Some days I get inside the bathroom and see how everything is really clean How could I have a shower and mess it all up again? My personal hygiene is seriously deteriorating because of this whole thing

What do I do you may ask yourself? I try to sleep until she leaves, that means I sleep until one o’clock every Tuesday and Thursday. My sleeping has been very unbalanced since she has been working in my house. I’m suffering some kind of jet lag without even travelling. Furthermore she is noisy and sometimes she wakes me up and I just lay in my bed waiting for her departure, and she is a hell of a worker, she usually leaves after the time she should (I hate non-lazy people)

If you are suffering this same discomfort by any chance I took the licence to give you some tips, to help you get through the whole weird situation. These are ways of dealing with a maid:

1/ Respect her work overall and try to make her feel comfortable, chit chat with her a little bit and act normally, like if she was your mother or something (Until she was hired I thought that mothers and maids were the same thing. Now I understand the bad looks my mother used to give me when I called her “Maid”)

2/ Ask her if she needs help just to be polite knowing she will refuse and then be free to do your own stuff without worrying about her (I usually clean up the house when I do my own stuff so that would be impossible. That’s probably the reason why my parents hired a maid in the first place)

3/ Without saying a word, stare at her completely for the three hours she spends at my house. No matter how loud she asks me what I am doing or how loud she asks me to stop this behaviour, keep staring at her without saying a word (Did I mention that I’m still single ladies?)

4/ Take care of everything before she arrives so she has no work to do (That’s what I do with prostitutes)

5/ Accuse her of stealing and get her fired (That would be a mean thing to do, I prefer while she is cleaning the boiler, pretending an accident happened and carefully setting her on fire)

6/ Walk around naked until she freaks out and quits (I don’t see that happening, she cleans naked and seems to understand the comfort of nakedness pretty well)

7/ Put chemicals in her cleaning products so that she hallucinates (Last time I did that we ended up fucking the hell out of each other. And she was calling me Alf during the whole thing for some reason I didn’t understand yet)

8/ When I wake up with a boner and I see her, ask her to take care of it and basically molest her sexually while she is working until she quits (Do not, I repeat: Do not try this with plumbers, just with maids)

9/ Pee and crap on my bedroom floor until she realizes that the 20€ per day she gets isn’t worth it anymore (Then I would have to find somebody else to daily clean the urine and feces on my floor, you know, once you start going on your floor, going back to the toilet is crazy, a big step back in your life)

10/ Bury her in the backyard and start a legend of cursed maids in my house to scare the next one (Or just show this one the bones of the previous one in my backyard)

Reasons why my tongue is fucked up

2010-07-05T15:11:00.002+02:00

Yeah, you heard right, my tongue is fucked up. It started in Arizona I think. I felt itchiness, then pain and then when I checked out in front of the mirror I saw a little wound. After a few days it went away, but after another few days it came back. I’ve been suffering this situation for almost four months already. I have a wound in my tongue coming and going every fucking week more or less.

I had an interesting debate with myself due to all this: Tongue is dentist’s or family doctor’s territory? Should I go to my doctor or should I go directly to my dentist? Whoever I go is a thirty minutes ride, that’s probably why country people are so fucked up, we are too lazy to drive an hour just to visit a doctor. We prefer death over step in an urban city.

I checked on the internet and it seems like I have a “geographic tongue” That is my auto-diagnosis. At this point of my life I just assume resentful that I suffer diseases that affect only 1% of population. I can handle it. I can live with permanent pain in my tongue What the hell! I just use it when I drink, eat, talk, kiss, fellate myself, yawn or sneeze.

The truth is I don’t know why is this happening to me. I would love to know what I did wrong. As always I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I came out with some possibilities. These are some reasons why my tongue is fucked up:

1/ It isn’t my fault. In the internet they said that people with stress can suffer this disease in their tongues (Stress? Stress? I don’t have stress at all father fuckers!)

2/ It isn’t my fault. This disease just appears in the youth to some people, as it came it can go away (Sure, same thing they told me with the premature ejaculation)

3/ It isn’t my fault. Maybe the spicy Mexican food I ate in Arizona is the responsible of that. Mexicans have the guilt (Mexicans probably have the guilt of my urine incontinence too)

4/ Maybe it’s my fault. I don’t flush enough and that’s why my mouth is so messed up (Missing a tooth, wounds in my tongue, bad breathe, double uvula… Wow! I’m almost not attractive)

5/ It’s probably my fault. Taking that mood off of my bike’s wheel licking doesn’t seem such a good idea now (It was the only way of reaching the hard spaces though)

6/ It could be my fault. For pretend having my whole teeth I painted my tongue’s tip in white colour and emplaced it in the missing tooth’s spot (Who am I going to fool? I painted it yellow… Dark yellow is the colour of my teeth okay!)

7/ It’s my fault. I should haven’t performed cunnilingus to her (The elderly just forget about they personal hygiene sometimes)

8/ It’s my fault because I’m the opposite of a pyromaniac, I’m an icemaniac. I freeze everything I can and then I lick on it (It isn’t the biggest of my problems… I’m still waiting for that mother fucking horse to get completely frozen while ice is getting more expensive every year)

9/ It’s definitive my fault. Writing this blog taping just with my tongue isn’t a challenge that really worth it anymore (The guy who I bought the keyboard from was even more idiot than me though, he was writing his blog taping just with his dick. What a prick!)

10/ It’s completely my fault. I ran off of weed and started smoking stinging nettles (Then I ran off of stinging nettles and started smoking wild death animal’s guts)

Reactions to a mendicant boy necking my friend

2010-07-01T14:18:00.005+02:00

There is a place like Galicia 40 years ago, sort of. Galicia plus high heels and internet and minus religion; and lots of meat instead of seafood. It is called Kosovo. It is the youngest country in the world. Galicia is the oldest. (If you say so…)

Anyway, my much more handsome alter ego (according to him) was in Kosovo one day with a couple of other guys. Just knocking back some beers at a cafe and discussing the surrounding women in English under the assumption that they didn’t understand a word they were saying. A woman next to my alter ego with silky legs and sumptuous boobs, was blowing bubbles and eating an ice cam cone. She had a short skirt and a child with her as well as a couple of other ugly children not worth mentioning.

On the walk over my alter ego had seen a street mother admonishing her child for ticking his hands down his pants in public, way, way down (You should’ve taken photos of that, dude)

Anyway, it while they were drinking, that woman at the next table beautiful face was eating ice cream and blowing bubbles, but the ice cream was for her tongue and the bubbles were to entertain the child. My alter ego commented, “wow is she really blowing bubbles, is this a porno waiting to happen?” He continued staring at her, imagining some action when a boy approached the table. My alter ego recognized the boy, but not his hands, those had been concealed.

Across the pedestrian walkway was a mother, or some sort of creature. The kind that covers her head with a scarf she was, maybe a hijab but I don’t know the weird names those people have for handkerchiefs. Maybe a gypsy. She chose her marks and pointed to people sitting at the café. She had a son, maybe grandson, or just some poor boy she had captured, maybe five or six. The boy would go to those people and beg for spare change. Well he wouldn’t just beg, he would make moves on you. He would hug or even try to kiss you.

My alter ego’s friend, a tall, blonde metrosexual, got the worst of it. The boy, blondish and dirt covered, snuck up behind his chair and necked his nape. Meaning, he totally kissed his neck. We just hoped he would stop putting moves on us, so we froze hoping that if we didn’t move, he couldn’t see us. The waiters caught sight of him, the were familiar with him. His creature mom camped out in front of that café everyday, sending in her son/pawn in to beg. One of the waiters was spinning some sort of short half-whip/half-chain menacingly, as if asking his well-to-do guests for some spare change were a great offense.

One waiter managed to pinch the boy to get him to scramble away. Its always the peons that get the punishment. Upon returning to his creature mother, he was slapped. He was punished by those who thought him guilty and by the manipulator who made the other think he was guilty, kind of like in real-life government and business. His mother wouldn’t let him give up and once the waiters had come back inside in search of food and drinks for their masters, the creature mother sent the boy back out.

After the boy hugged and kissed my alter ego’s companions, he approached my alter ego. (My alter ego is just a good friend of mine, he likes to be referred as alter ego, not just in this blog but in real life as well, he clearly has self-confident issues) My alter ego quickly pulled out change and said “I’ll pay you not to touch me.” Of course, the boy didn’t speak any English and thought he was being asked for hugs and promptly embraced my alter-ego. My alter ego nudged the boy away while pinching a 50-cent piece as close to the edge as possible, so that when the boy grabbed it there wouldn’t be any skin contact between fingers, hopefully.

The woman next door disgusted looked over and commented in perfect English, “Maybe if he blew sexy bubbles you wouldn’t recoil from that poor boy.” She then called the waiter, paid him, and left. My alter ego watched the trim of her skirt dance around her lower thighs feeling the disdain from her gaze even as her back was turned. “He had dirty hands!” He shouted internally.

Then my alter ego thought about it and came out with better reactions than the one he chose. These are some reactions to a dirt-faced little boy hugging you and kissing your neck for change: (And yes, I’m not the only writer in this pity blog)

1/ Give him food (That would infuriate his creature mom who does not eat food but uses the money to buy whatever material she feeds off of)

2/ Go to one of the small stands on the street and purchase a toy puppy for him (Wouldn’t work. His mom would have eaten it)

3/ Join the waiters with little whips (Then form a posse, and push every beggar out of the streets and in to the hillsides)

4/ Recruit my own child and direct him to go beg from the creature mom (If she decided to use his child for protection by any chance, command my child to fight him in a death child’s battle, Pokémon’s way)

5/ Give the boy everything I have, be merciful and let him go on his way (No way that just encourages them)

6/ Adopt him and steal the creature’s livelihood (That’s sort of the story of my life)

7/ Become a pimp and take the boy to places where people would love to give him change for kisses (My Spanish cousin would have been the first in the line)

8/ Approach the creature mom, tear off her hijab and reveal her to the world like a disguised Men in Black alien (Then fuck her hard)

9/ Work with the government to start a center for street children (boooooooring)

10/ Use my hand cuffs to take the mendicant boy to my house and lock him in the basement with the other mendicants (The inconvenient of Kosovo is that is a really poor place and I’ll need a bigger basement pretty soon)

Reactions to my first reader´s comment

2010-06-21T23:24:00.003+02:00

After trying for awhile, I found a way to bring traffic to my blog, one person in concrete… This guy read one of my stories and blacked out. He ended up speechless, delighted. Here is his comment:

This is so unfunny. Hey bub don't quick you day job. You are not a writer. Your presence on dontevenreply.com is like a tick on an elephant's penis! Thanks for wasting my time you self indulgent boring asshole.

Well, when the first comment to your blog is this, you don’t get to think it will be a success (not a surprise for me) what you get to think is that you suck. And let’s be honest: This blog sucks. Of course I’m not trying to compete with blogs like dontevenreply.com (it seems like a bad idea put some comments in there leaving my blog’s link to bring here people, they are reading a really funny thing and feel betrayed and pissed when they come and read this one) or Tucker Max or whatever American who happens to write well. If my goal was having success with a blog I probably would write it in Spanish like the scripts and books that I write.

But let’s take a time out here and analyze carefully what this guy, named Anonymous, felt when he wrote this comment, let’s analyze slowly why he used these exactly words and no others. Let’s try to discover the motivations he had to write exactly what he wrote. Let’s start by dividing his comment in parts:

This is so unfunny. Strong start, he clearly wanted to show his discomfort with me and my blog by pointing since the very beginning that he didn’t like it at all. He could say: This is not very funny. But due to his anger against me he preferred to use the word “so” indicating a lot of something, and “unfunny” indicating the opposite of what I try this blog to be (Without much success obviously)

Hey bub don't quick you day job. Okay, I don’t know what “bub” is, and I think I prefer it that way. And I don’t exactly know what he meant with “quick you day job” I think he was looking for something more like: “Do not quit your day job” This second phrase is pretty good advice. He understood that he needed to give me a tip to go along with my life and I found it very interesting (I don’t have a day job though, unless going to school parking lots with my binoculars is considered a day job)

You are not a writer. He continued with an intelligent affirmation. He probably thought I was an American, then he read my sad English and got mad at me, not leaving him another chance but to remind me I am not a writer. When everybody knows real writers are those who leave comments in blogs using the name Anonymous. We all have a lot to learn from this dude

Your presence on dontevenreply.com is like a tick on an elephant's penis! Well, we can find a lot of anger in this one; he even took the effort of putting an exclamation point. He is clearly pissed off, he probably hit his table with his hand after cleaning it or not when he finished his daily internet porn tour. Describing me as a tick on an elephant’s penis is something I get a lot I must confess. But in this particular situation I think he is right, my blog can’t be compared at the dontevenreply.com one, in fact, if you are here and you didn’t know about that other blog, just go there and laugh because it is hilarious.

Thanks for wasting my time you self indulgent boring asshole. As a real American, even though he was really angry, he can not help it and he had to be polite at the end, giving me his thanks. Or maybe he is not being polite, maybe this particular person can not get dates (I’ve been there buddy) and for him even though a “self indulgent boring asshole” has wasted his time, he is thankful because his life is so boring and disgraceful that the time seems to not pass by for him (Once again… I’ve been there buddy)

And this is pretty much it; he couldn’t say more with less. I hope this analysis explained more or less what this guy felt after reading my blog.

I referred the whole time to this person as a male, because it is clearly a male. Women don’t release their anger in boring and stupid blogs like this one. They are women, no matter how ugly they are, they always can get a date (Not with you Mr. Anonymous, don’t get anxious, you’ll have to wait your chance, hang in there with the porn until it arrives)

If you think about it carefully though, this is an amazing comment. What would this guy say if he had to pay for reading my blog? He would probably “quick his day job” to look for me and… and… well, I don’t know how Mr. Anonymous work. But he wouldn’t make me anything nice I can assure that. Anyways, I want to thanks this guy, for take the time of reading one of my posts and overall, comment on it. Of course his comment didn’t pass unnoticed for me. These are some reactions to my first reader’s comment:

1/ Get affected by his comment and kill myself dying as a self indulgent boring asshole (Whenever I die I will die as a self indulgent boring asshole anyway)

2/ Stop writing this blog because I’m not a writer and try to work in a Burger King (They were looking for more qualified people, maybe I’ll have better luck in McDonalds)

3/ Change the subject of this blog and instead of writing about stupid things and adding some dumb different options at the end, write about the greatness of birds and cats and how they can even behave as human beings sometimes (Birds&catsareawesomeandilovethemmorethanilovepeople.blogspot.com)

4/ Cry because people don’t like my blog (Some stupid sand just got into my eye you fucking asshole!)

5/ Look for Mr. Anonymous and ask him for more advice, not for the blog but for life (The one about jerking off with the left hand I already know it bub)

6/ Fire my American cousin and look for a better funnier writer (Are you available Mr. Anonymous?)

7/ Don’t do anything, just keep masturbating while picturing Mr. Anonymous writing his comment very sweaty and angry (I like really fat people yum yum)

8/ Erase Mr. Anonymous’ comment (And miss the only funny thing in this blog?)

9/ Don’t write more posts until Mr. Anonymous apologizes to me (Even I know that I’m the one who should apologize to him, this blog really sucks)

10/ Unbury my nine, go to the States and shoot everybody until I feel like I have killed Mr. Anonymous (Mmmm, just like in college days…)

Reactions to an old woman illness in a plane

2010-06-08T12:49:00.007+02:00

It happened on a long flight, Philadelphia-Madrid I think. Philadelphia, great city, better butter… So, travelling by plane is always the same, you wait in the airport checking out the pretty girls around hoping they get on your plane. Once you know which girls are flying with you, it is just a matter of time before you have to wait again, hoping they sit close to you.

I learned my lesson and I don’t talk or flirt with anybody in the airport. I think it is so frustrating wasting your energy in playing the good and funny guy when then your seat is in the tale section and hers is in the front (Although flirting for me is just staring while touching myself using my pockets to hide and usually girls don’t find me funny or good)

Airports and planes are always full of hot women, everybody knows that, I have travelled maybe more than the average, and I have to say I have never sat near a hot woman on a plane (Well… once I sat by a pretty Canadian but you know, Canadians don’t count) I usually end up with old people or married couples with crying children. In my first trip to NY I sat by a really old woman and her crying little dog in a basket

I hate the window, when I have a window seat I try trading it, of course every time I succeed. Windows seats on planes are like candy at your grandma’s house, you know they are there but they are not always offered to you, and getting them is a great joy. Don’t get me wrong, I like looking out the window, it’s awesome. But between enjoying the beauty of the amazing blue sky and having a free way to the bathroom… I’m sticking with the bathroom. Yes, the toilet beats the sky to me.

In that flight from Philadelphia to Madrid, I was suffering from a crazy allergy, I had more mucus than ever. Without exaggerating I had to blow my nose every five minutes because I couldn’t breathe, the mucus was so stuck in my nose I had to blow really hard. And in Spain blowing your nose is a normal thing to do, but in the States blowing your nose noisily is the grossest thing you can do. So every moment I had to go to the bathroom, and there, in that private spot we all like to use, was where I blew my nose noisily (It was bleeding too, just to picturing it better)

By my side I had an old couple, they were French, they lived in Spain and they spoke English, Spanish and French. They were good people of course, everybody at the planes are good people though, it is like being up in the air makes us better people. I don’t remember what we talked about and I wouldn’t tell if I did.

I was waiting for the little TV to being turned on just thinking how come air hostess are so ugly now a days, going to the bathroom to blow my nose and reading a funny book that made me laugh out loud a couple times making me feel weird. Nobody laughs on planes I guess, when the little TV was turned on I understood the reason why (US Airways needs someone to restock their broadcastings desperately)

When I finished the funny book (I hope they serve beer in hell), watched the only good movie offered (Invention of lying) and the only Curb Your Enthusiasm episode I found, that was it. I didn’t have anything else to do. Most of the people were sleeping, I tried and failed, my nose was giving me a rough time and at one point I just wanted to die. I searched the little TV guide: Sex in the city (The movie) Sex in the city (The TV show, four or five episodes) Sex in the city (The soundtrack) Sex in the city (Behind the scenes) I really started thinking US Airways and Sex in the city were related on this fucking plane.

So, that was my situation: I had finished my book, I had watched the only two things I liked in the little TV, my nose was a mess, mucus and blood making it impossible for me to breathe, I had an old couple sleeping by my side, a family with crying kids were in front of me, some people sleeping were at my back, and of course, in the other row of seats, but near me, were that classic couple living their passionate love in the plane’s darkness. Madrid was two or three hours away yet, my stinky cheap MP3 had run out of battery… It was a tough trip. Travelling alone is like masturbating, you get to the point you wanted, but it isn’t as pleasant as it can be with company.

When I thought anything could be worse, the old woman by my side woke up and started complaining about her tummy. She woke up her husband and told him she was feeling home sick. I got up and let them go to the restroom. After a couple minutes they arrived and she was looking awful, she had diarrhea and nauseas, the stewardess came and started worrying about her situation. She was really angry, she blamed the plane food

She had to wait and endure her pain until the flight was over. So, from this point on, I was in the same situation as I was before, but now with an old woman farting, retching and telling me how awful the plane’s food is. It’s pretty uncomfortable sitting with an old woman suffering and talking about how awful everything is while you almost can’t breathe and have to go to the bathroom every moment while trying to not be rude.

My reaction was to be polite. Pretending not being smelling the flatulence and the vomit, pretending that I was concerned about the old woman’s illness, pretending to be a good person. That’s what I did, and I don’t feel good about it, these are other reactions to an old woman illness on a plane:

1/ Lock myself in the bathroom and make it my own private spot on the plane until we arrived to Madrid ( It almost was, when you go every ten minutes to the bathroom, that bathroom and the aisle behind became in your own home)

2/ Start screaming and cause total chaos (Causing chaos on a plain is one of the things I’ve always dreamed with)

3/ Hug the old lady tight and call her grandma a couple times (At least it would’ve been funny see her reaction to that)

4/ Watch Sex and the city (No, I still prefer the angry, smelly, ill and tedious old lady)

5/ Run away from her, instead of listening to and smelling her, look for another seat where I could stare at the infinity until the flight was over (I live in the country, smelling feces makes me feel at home. I actually enjoyed that)

6/ Instead of listening to her, start telling her all about my life, being the tedious person instead of the patient and kind one (My life story would’ve killed her)

7/ Approach every single passenger and explain to them that I wasn’t on cocaine, that I had an allergy (When you go every ten minutes to the bathroom and you have a runny nose which by the way is bleeding, people start giving you looks)

8/ Take advantage of the situation and shit my pants as if nothing had happened (Yeah, sure… Like if I was the only one who would love to be able to shit on a plane’s seat with nobody noticing it)

9/ Surreptitiously take the seat belt and start hanging her (No lady! I don’t give a fuck if the pasta on the plane is low quality!)

10/ Give her a lap dance (Sadly, another young man beat me to it)

Reasons why my English is so awful lately

2010-06-05T00:51:00.002+02:00

Ok, lately my English has been stinking a lot, and that’s going to keep happening. The explanation is pretty simple, at the beginning I used to write my dumb stuff, sent it to my American cousin, he corrected it and then I published it. You may think we are idiots (I totally concord) But that was we used to do. Don’t forget that he is the one who asked me to write a blog to improve my English and he is very interested in me learning English (I don’t know to whom the fuck I’m talking… nobody is reading this blog)

The thing is that the guy has a live. He must take care about his own stuff. He has a lovely girlfriend, friends, relatives, studies, a professional career, some crimes to hide… He can’t expend his time correcting my nonsense bullshit. I can’t force him to do crazy things, I’m not a Christian anymore. That’s why I decided to start publishing posts without being corrected (This way you’ll be able to check how sad my English skills are for real)

The truth is we are the kind of idiots who write twenty episodes of a TV show nobody is interested in, who write several lame screenplays nobody cares about either, who make competitions between them where the winner is the one who goes to more different countries (expensive competition by the way) We are the kind of idiots who flip out with Goku and Vegeta, who venerate Larry David, who have a love to Bojan that verged on extreme homosexuality and who take advantage from our deaf relatives.

All that just means we are idiots enough to making a blog like this one and in the way we were doing it. Picture two adult people working hard in a blog nobody is reading. So, the point is, for now on, my posts will have this sad literature almost incomprehensible you are reading right now. So, this post’s goal isn’t other than trying to explain why I took these measures and why my writings became so awful in the last days. I don’t know if anyone could buy it. Just in case, these are other reasons why my English is so awful lately:

1/ I’ve been doing a lot of pot this month and my English has just disappeared from my brain (My Spanish too)

2/ I released the slave who was writing everything in this blog (I’ll miss you Toby)

3/ I’m dumber everyday (Dumbest is my goal)

4/ Due to the demolishing success of this acclaimed-for-the-critics blog, my cousin and I have been involved in an ego’s fight which ended in really bad terms (Rest in piece my friend)

5/ I thought my blog would be funnier if nobody understands anything I’m saying (That’s what happened to me with American’s sitcoms)

6/ I just think English must to be reinvented (I’m the Da Vinci of English right now)

7/ My English has been awful since the beginning, I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about here (Just take a look to the early posts… No you won’t!)

8/ I like raping English like Jamaicans do (English, women…whatever)

9/ My cousin was so slow correcting my posts that I just decided firing him (He just didn’t get that I had a public to attend… I have a follower already for God sakes!)

10/ My English hot teacher thought helping me writing a blog where I was humiliating her wasn’t the most honorable thing to keep doing (I really miss her…)

Reasons why I´m my own blog follower

2010-06-03T00:50:00.002+02:00

Yeah, it’s true, I’m my own follower. That makes two followers already (I’m on fire). The truth is I’m awful with computers. I can hardly type my name… But lately I’ve been working in my blog’s merchandising; I made a Facebook account using the blog’s name. I don’t know why exactly I did that, that experience lasted for almost an hour though, I’m not going into Facebook never again in my life. If it was named Assbook, Boobbook or Cuntbook maybe I’d give it a chance, but since is just Facebook I’m letting it go. I explained in other entries why I don’t like social networks. (I’m an unsocial hermit, just to refresh)

But my merchandising didn’t stop there. I made me follower of a lot of other blogs. Of course I’m not reading anyone. I just thought if I made myself their follower they would come to my blog. But it doesn’t work like this, I spent almost an hour of my sadly life becoming in follower of blogs and then I found out it wasn’t worth it. My account’s name doesn’t lead to my blog, I don’t know why, but it doesn’t. So, I wasted an hour of my life and the only thing I obtained, is probably freak out two poor parents who make a blog to show their children’s pictures to their relatives. How would you feel if an unknown makes himself follower of a blog of your children’s pictures (Sorry, but I don’t know how to stop being a follower. PS: Your four year old girl looks fantastic on her new bathing suit)

After that successful move, I don’t know how but I found out that I had became my own follower too (I guess I make myself follower of so many blogs that I made me follower of mine by mistake) I tried to erasing me as a follower, but I don’t know how, so, for now on. I am my own follower. And I have to say, I’m pretty pissed with the treatment, followers need love from their blogger and I’m just getting sex… (Too twist?)

To be honest I kind of enjoy this whole thing of trying to show my stinky blog to the people out there. I don’t know much people who speak English so I can’t tell them about it. And I can’t go to a friend and tell him: Hey I’m writing this blog, read it and show it to your buddies. Because they wouldn’t understand shit, Spaniards don’t speak English, at least the ones who I relate with. The truth is that they freak out when I say that I can speak English, they see me like if I was some kind of genius freak. In the rest of Europe everybody speaks English, but in Spain and Italy we just don’t give a fuck of your language. And the amazing part is that despite of this, we fuck your girls anyways.

I know I said I’m writing this to improve my English, but even though I think I’m learning, since I’m here I want at least some crazy gang from Detroit or Portsmouth reading it. Feels so sad seeing that nobody is coming to this place… Is like when you rape and kill a woman, you go to prison and your friends don’t go to visit you (He had another sister suckers!)

Anyways, if you are reading this is probably because I found the way of make a good merchandising or because you spend weeks reading random blogs. Whatever it is, you must know you are reading a blog of someone who is his own follower. These are reasons why I’m my own blog follower:

1/ I’m the only person who finds me funny and I need support (I don’t find you funny at all sucker)

2/ I made myself follower of every single blog in the world (The Arabic blogs are the best ones with difference, and they are anonymous too, they always hide their faces)

3/ I’m bipolar and the one who is my follower is the idiot in the brackets (Leave me alone bitch! Don’t involve me in this, I’m not following shit)

4/ I wanted two followers in my blog to impress women (It worked, after explaining for hours what a follower and a blog is to my grandma, she looked pretty impressed)

5/ I’m my own follower because I am really and extremely stupid (You definitely are)

6/ In the satanic blog that I’m following they told me that the third step in hell’s search is becoming your own blog follower (At least the third one was way easier and cleaner than the first and the second)

7/ Due to my passion for porn, my computer is full of Trojans and virus, one of them made me my own follower (I have to start jerking off with a condom again)

8/ I’m not my own follower. I just run off of ideas and make up this whole thing to keep padding on (Awful idea then)

9/ The truth is I don’t even know what follower means (I’m just typing what my American cousin is dictating by Skype)

10/ I like following, which is most likely what I do all day. Following people is like the sweetest joy before revenge and getting pussy (Are you serious? You plagiarizing Tupac now?)

Things uncomfortable for me

2010-06-02T12:12:00.003+02:00

I’m under the impression I’m always in uncomfortable situations. Not matter what I do I’m always ending up at weird situations. How should we react when we are uncomfortable? Nobody knows. I personally think the best reaction possible is just being quiet and don’t move hoping it ends. What is an uncomfortable situation for me you may ask? I guess exactly the same than for you. These are things uncomfortable for me:

1/ You are at home watching TV with your parents, everything is normal, you are watching some regular movie just getting sleepy when suddenly, the characters in the screen start kissing, getting naked and making an explicit sexual scene. It won’t last more than a minute or two, but within that period you will wish your instantaneous death (Calm down, this is uncomfortable for average parents too. The discomfort is easier to deal with when is shared)

2/ You are walking at the street with confidence and even cockiness, you see a group of pretty girls and for some reason you think spitting in the floor like a cowboy would make them love you. But you don’t spit well and your spit falls over your clothes and chin too. They watch it and laugh, these seconds you need for disappearing will be the longest ever (I need to train my spitting Damn it!)

3/ You are at the elevator with an unknown, this is uncomfortable by itself. But what do you say about those times for some reason you start laughing, you try stopping but you can’t and even though you try hiding the guffaw you fail and the unknown feels insulted (I can’t use elevators because of that, I think in the weird situation, laugh by myself and get in troubles)

4/ This is very recurrent but common too. You are at the street, you need to pee and you look for an isolated corner and go there. While you are peeing a grandma walks by with her grandchildren. What an awful feeling, is like if the time was stopped (Probably the grandma will criticize you out laud and make you feel even worse)

5/ You are at a familiar thing, there are some kids around. You are sitting at a table with the rest of relatives. One little cousin is playing with you and at some point without realising it because she is only five or whatever, she puts her hand in your genital’s zone. She leans in that particular part of your anatomy, you try to move her away carefully because you don’t want to be rude. You take her hand with yours, when you have your hand over hers and her hand is over your genital’s zone. You raise your head and see her father watching it with an angry gesture (Coldest sweat in history)

6/ You are alone at home, you decide is a good moment for jerking off a little bit. You start pumping on it. You finish, you look up and see a Hail Mary little statue which wasn’t there before and which means your grandaunt who happens to be your neighbour too have just entered, left it there and walked away (Why knocking the door when you are family right?)

7/ You are hanging out with friends, with relatives or in a plane or train with unknowns. Then some mystery force comes from a more mysterious source and with any sexual stimulus you get a boner. A difficult one to hide, you try to focus and make it go away, but it doesn’t go, just stays there making you really uncomfortable (I only know one way to make it go and it isn’t uncomfortable at all)

8/ You go to a public bathroom, you get in a booth but it smells really bad. You try to do your thing but you just can’t because of the smell and dirtiness. You get out the booth, someone was waiting, that someone enters in the booth and gives you a recriminatory look. You take the blame of something you are not responsible for and that sucks (Blame me if I shit in there. Don’t blame me if I’m just a victim like you asshole!)

9/ More public toilets, this is the territory of discomfort for excellence. You go to a bathroom inside the office where someone is working. You seat down on the toilet and start farting very hard while making strength to unload. The worst thing is knowing you’ll have to come out sometime (Work in an office with a toilet where your co-workers go shitting is very uncomfortable too. A good friend of mine was suffering that for a couple years already he didn’t take it very well. I hope he is resting in peace)

10/ You went out for jogging, biking or any else exercise. The thing is that you got very tired, you are sweating a lot, and you can’t even move and talk. Then someone taps your back. It’s some girl you like who you don’t have too confident with yet. She begins a conversation but you’re shaking, sweating and you can’t talk coherently. She ends up going away disgusted by you (Exercising is always an unhealthy thing to do despite what people can say)

Reactions to a hot girl feeding water to a donkey

2010-06-01T14:03:00.002+02:00

A few years ago a friend and I decided to descent a river in an inflatable craft. It was a peaceful river without current. We just thought it would be fun paddling for awhile. Our problem began when we told a cousin that we were descending the river and he wanted joining in. He told us he had his own inflatable craft and he knew the river so we agreed to his request of coming with us. He told us that he was bringing his brother-in-law too and we thought it was okay.

We organized the whole thing and we ended in front of the river with two inflatable crafts. They parked their car in the point where they decided the descent would end and we brought ours to the point they decided the descent would start. We met my cousin’s brother-in-law, he was a peculiar human being with an absentminded attitude, he lived in Holland and he was just visiting his sister or something like that.

The first thing that made us thinking that the descent would be a fiasco was this conversation: (The conversation occurred in Galician but I just translate it for you)

Me: So… Where are your oars dudes?

Cousin: We don’t have oars man

Friend: What?

Cousin: We just have the craft

Me: This river doesn’t have any current How do you expect to descend it?

Cousin: I don’t know man…

Friend: We can’t descend a river with two inflatable crafts and just two oars

Cousin: Calm down guys… I brought a rope

Me: I don’t think hanging yourself is the best option, not a bad one, just not the best right now…

Cousin: We can tie the crafts and take turns for paddling, you paddle for awhile then we get the oars and we paddle…It can be fun

Me: Descend the river tied up?

Cousin: Why not?

Friend: We can try it…

Cousin: Okay dudes… You guys can start going to the shore, we’ll be right there

Me: Where the hell are you going?

Cousin: We need cigarettes man

Me: Cigarettes?

My cousin told us how to get to the shore while they were going to get their fucking cigarettes. It wasn’t a good explanation and we weren’t good understandable people so we had a rough time finding the shore entry. The river is surrounded by forest so it wasn’t easy to walk through carrying with the inflatable raft. We got a little lost and we ended inside a private country estate. Right there we witnessed the most shocking thing in our whole wide lives.

We were in the country, Galician country, there are only old farmers and farm animals in there. We were in a remote lost house inside the forest near a river. In the estate were an old man working his land and near him the hottest girl we’ve ever seen feeding water to a disgusting donkey. She was dressed with bad clothes, she was dirty with mud and she was in a stinky farm but she was gorgeous. We shocked, we stared speechless for awhile, and then the old man saw us and talked to us.

He asked what were we doing in his propriety and we answered him that we were looking for a comfortable shore to get into the river, he told us how to get to one but we were just too impressed with that girl’s beauty. I can’t even describe her, she was twenty or so, thin, really cute face, amazing body… What the fuck was she doing there feeding water to a filthy donkey? (I think that kind of hot girls shouldn’t be aloud to live in isolated farms required by law. The police should take her and drop her in New York, Paris, Rome or London)

We made it to the river, the shore was awful. It was full of undergrowth and we had a rough time getting the craft inside the water and ourselves inside the raft. Once we accomplished that attempt we had to be just floating while waiting for my cousin and his relative. In that moment was when we were able to talk about what we had just seen in that farm a few minutes before for the first time. We couldn’t believe it, we just asked each other one time and another:

Me: Did you see her?

Friend: How can be that possible?

Me: Did you see her?

Friend: How can be that possible?

Me: Did you see her?

Friend: How can be that possible?

That conversation was much longer than you can imagine. Then my cousin and his relative appeared in their oarless craft mad at us because they said we were disappeared. It seemed like there were a comfortable and peaceful place to get in the river almost a hundred yards before we did. Then they tied up the craft to ours and we started paddling. It was annoying to paddle for them, but since we agreed to take turns we could handle it. My friend and I didn’t know the river and didn’t know how much we would be descending either.

My cousin and his in-law lied down while they smoked one joint each other and drunk beer. The rope we used to tie up the crafts was like six or seven yards long so my friend and I didn’t realize that we were their slaves at the beginning. We paddled for twenty or more minutes before we started asking them to switch places, but it wasn’t easy putting their craft in front of ours, while we were trying a way’s division of the river appeared, my cousin told us to lead them for one of the ways, but we couldn’t direct the craft and we headed to the other way, the wrong one.

Then my fucking cousin untied the rope and since they were a few yards farther back they could make it to the good way paddling with their hands. While we were going on different directions they laughed and cheered because of their exploit. The way my friend and I where in was too stopped and full of rocks and undergrowth, we burst our craft and we had to paddle very hard. A few minutes later, maybe fifteen minutes the river got better and it converged again. Then we saw them farther ahead from us.

We tried to reach them to give them the oars but we witnessed unbelieving how they were getting out of the river in a little park wit cars and motorbikes parked. We paddled there and we asked what the fuck was going on. My cousin told me that was the end of our descent, that he had parked his car in that place, that we lost the best part of the river, the only one where we wouldn’t have to paddle. All what we did was getting out of the river, waiting for our craft gone flat and get the fuck out of there.

We were mad with my cousin and his freaking lazy brother-in-law. They fucked us well, but if we think about it carefully we would realize that everything was our fault. We didn’t react well when we saw the hottest girl ever, we didn’t even talk to her. Our minds went blank, we reacted badly and our day went awful because of that. These are better reactions to a hot girl feeding water to a donkey:

1/ Talk to her you fucking asshole! (It was too unexpected to do so)

2/ Give her my phone number and my email (Explain to her what a phone number and an email is)

3/ Pet her donkey and gain her sympathies, then if she was able to, start a conversation (It will always be a mystery to me)

4/ Ask her to lead us to the river’s shore, once there ask her to come with us in the inflatable raft, once in the inflatable raft ask her to marry me (My dream has always been getting married with an hermit like myself)

5/ Go to the hospital and get treated my hallucination’s problems (Okay, maybe there wasn’t a girl feeding that donkey but I swear that goblin forced me to burn that bakery)

6/ Tell them that we came from the future, that human race was wiped out in there and our mission was to impregnate every woman in their period (Period of time not menstruation period… or both, whatever)

7/ Buy her to her owner (I don’t think farmer’s girls are too expensive)

8/ Kidnap her (She wouldn’t care I’m sure)

9/ Get involved in a death fight with my friend where the winner would take the girl and the looser the old man farmer (I maybe let my friend win)

10/ Beg to the old man to make me his slave too (We could live a tragic passionate slave’s love story)

Reasons why I´m still writing this blog

2010-05-30T01:01:00.004+02:00

Nobody but some weird guy is reading my blog so far. That’s a fact, you can check it. Nobody is reading this master piece I like to call it my blog. Of course this is something I expected from the beginning. I’m talentless. I’m not funny. I just make jokes about sex and racism due to my absence of creativity and of course my English is nothing but awful. My experiences stink and my way of telling them make them even worse.

So…Why would someone in his mind keep writing a bad blog that nobody is reading, you may ask? To be honest I don’t think I’m completely in my mind I may respond. But the only truth is that I still writing this secret private blog nobody bother to read. These are some reasons why I still writing this blog:

1/ I live in a small isolated village full of chickens, goats, cows and old people without women or any else distraction and I don’t have much to do but writing (Sure you do)

2/ I need to keep improving my English so I have to keep writing this blog (I’m not writing shit, my American cousin is doing everything for me)

3/ I keep writing it because I’m amusing myself (That’s my way of understanding life, do everything for and by myself)

4/ I wanted to quit, but since I have one follower I decided that he owes my loyalty and I should keep writing for him (Have only a follower scares the hell out of me. Stop following me you weird mother fucker!)

5/ My psychologist, my psychiatry and my fortune-teller concord that keep writing my miseries is the best I can do right now (Not that bizarre since they are the same person)

6/ Writing is better than stare at goats (Writing while staring at goats is better than writing or staring at goats)

7/ Writing this blog is the closest thing to sex I’m having (Yes…)

8/ I have to keep writing or I will end up fucking farm’s animals again (Rabbits are the best, chickens passable, avoid goats, cows or horses… They just don’t care about anybody else’s feelings)

9/ I have to keep writing or I will end up fucking old country people again (Farmers are the best, peasants passable, avoid shepherdess, big moustache’s grandmas or shepherdess grandmas with big moustaches)

10/ Is writing this blog or starting a serial killer career (I can combine both)

Things I don´t get

2010-05-27T23:58:00.002+02:00

I’m weird, that’s pretty clear if you read my stories. But I’m a weird guy who likes rational things, and sadly I’m always witnessing irrational behaviours in people who disrespect weird people. They go around thinking they are normal, they are okay, that the people who don’t act like them are crazy. But then they do things such as the ones I’m going to share with you. These are some things I don’t get:

1/ They are very normal, very logic. I’m the crazy guy because I opened an umbrella inside my house. Of course the normal thing to do is get really mad at me and worry a lot because it gives a lot of bad luck (I don’t know if this happens in other countries, and I don’t know either if anybody else thinks opening an umbrella inside a house is really funny too)

2/ I was just a little boy, seven years old I guess. I was about to play the final of a soccer cup in my home town. When we entered in the field they had the cup over a table in there waiting, I saw it and thought it would be nice touching it a little bit because you know, it was lying in there, but that was a crazy thing to do. The normal thing to do was telling off a seven year old for touching a cup because it gives very bad luck (We won and I played pretty bad, that means touching the cup gave me good luck, I usually played really awful. In the celebration I fell down and got myself a black-eyed though)

3/ I’m odd because I like talking about UFOs, ghosts, CIA conspiracy or wolf men, that’s the crazy thing to do. Normal sane people don’t just like talking about some guy two thousands years ago healing blinds, dying and reviving, going to the heaven, that’s a place where human beings who died go to hang out forever, they even believe it (Who needs help here?)

4/ I’m nuts because after spending a few years of my life going out every night and end up a little unbalanced because of drugs I decided to stop that for writing stories and travelling around. When everybody knows the normal thing to do is keep going out every night to still being a cool guy (Junkies street cleaners are the coolest guys according to them)

5/ I’m insane because I run away of serious relationships with women I don’t really like or love and vice versa. When everybody knows the normal and logic thing to do is getting involved in a relationship with the first person you can tolerate just to not being alone (That’s probably the reason why I’m so unhappy when all the couples are so happy)

6/ I’m unstable because I like to get in a train and go wherever it takes me, because when I travel to a city I’ve never been I don’t buy a guide of the place and go around seeing the most famous monuments, churches and museums. I just walk around, grab some beers and talk with the natives, and that is crazy. The normal thing to do when you travel is preparing the trip for a whole year and then going to every single place in the city’s guide and just relate with the tourist guides and other tourists for a week (I’ve been in the city and I missed the Rockefeller centre. I must commit suicide!)

7/ I’m bizarre because I started writing a blog where I talk about some experiences I had and other nonsense. When the rational thing to do is writing a blog talking about your children, cats or both. Or reading blogs that talk about nonsense or about the writer’s cat and children (Do you know any shrink please?)

8/ I’m crazy because I don’t have Twitter, Facebook, Myspace and those things. I need help because I’m not interested on using them when the logic thing to do is writing your personal daily experiences in the web under your whole personal information to share it with your friends and a bunch of people you don’t know and you probably won’t (Is so enriching get to talk with those ex-girlfriends, friends, class mates, teachers, unknowns… Why am I wasting my life like this?)

9/ I’m definitive mad because I through away my self phone two years ago, I’m living in 2010 and I don’t have a mobile anymore! I’m missing so much those daily conversations with people I don’t want to talk to, those messages saying nothing, that fucking vibration in my pocket, those inappropriate interruptions when I was doing something I liked, that habit of checking every minute if someone had called, those girls that took my phone behind my back and just doing that got to know how phony I was with them (I need my life back!)

10/ I’m at a mental hospital’s doors because I’ve never used a watch. I go along with my live without a watch! Oh my Gosh! When I want to know the time I have to approach another human being and asking him the time. Why me Lord? Why me? Of course the normal thing to do is spending half of your salary on a Rolex even though you probably don’t even know how to read the clock’s hands (Don’t wear a watch is crazy too because in the streets, cars or buildings it’s impossible to find something that tells you the time, that is some difficult information to get)

Reactions to a father who wants to nail his daughter

2010-05-26T12:36:00.002+02:00

It happened in Vienna, I was with a friend and we went in to an ice cream shop, it was small and there weren’t any customers. We sat and ordered ice creams cones. There was a married couple, probably in their fifties, running the place and waiting for costumers to show up and attend them. She was pretty normal, little bit fat but a normal fifty year old woman, she looked European, later we found out she was Austrian (wasn’t a surprise since we were in Austria). Her husband was the weird one, he had Arabic features, only one eyebrow, a huge one, he was bald, short, ugly… later we found out he was from Egypt.

Since we were the only customers there we started talking. It was the common conversation you receive when you are far away of your home:

Wife: Where are you from, Italy or Spain?

Me: New Caledonia

Friend: Yeah, from Nouméa, the capital…

Wife: Oh where is that exactly?

Me: I think that is pretty clear madam…

Friend: I kind of feel insulted here…

Wife: Oh yes, “New Culidonya” yes, sorry… What are you doing here in Vienna?

Me: We are just looking for lands to conquest…

Friend: “New Culindonya” needs to be expanded…

Wife: Really?

Me: I’m just kidding, we are actually on our honey moon… (Shocking gesture on the wife’s face and then a shocking gesture on the husband’s face after his wife translated for him)

Friend: Yes, our wives are in the hotel room cleaning right now

Me: Later they will take care of the corridors…

Wife: So when are you guys leaving?

Me: Probably when we finish our ice creams…

Friend: Not totally bad ice cream by the way…

More or less that was how the conversation went, then someone entered the store. I even recall a slow motion plane and music when she appeared. At that moment, the prettiest woman I had ever seen was the one who was feeding water to a donkey (We´ll get in to that pretty soon) but this one beat her. I remember her very well, she was a mix between Arabic and European beauty. Dark hair and skin, she was white but with dark skin, she had brown clear eyes, almost green. She was wearing very casual clothes, the kind of clothes that an eight-year-old wears but she was almost twenty. Her body was perfect and her face was the living image of an angel. Pure beauty.

We were seated in a small table and the married couple was on their feet talking with us. When she arrived an intense silence ocurred, my friend and I stared at her impressed with her uncommon beauty. She walked in smiling and sat at a table near ours. While she was walking to the table, the husband checked her out with a nasty look, he stared at her ass with a desiring look. Then he looked at us making that usual men’s gesture when a hot woman is around that says: “Did you see her? I wanna fuck every hole on her” We responded with the other classic gesture that says: “I am impressed with her beauty too, yum yum”

She had a backpack, she took out some pencils and a notebook. The wife sat by her side and they started talking in German. They seemed to be discussing something about how to write a word. My friend and I thought that maybe that most beautiful woman we have ever seen was working in that store and was in charge of decoration or something (She was the best possible decoration as a matter of fact)

Seeing how good relationship the wife had with the prettiest girl in history, we started regretting our pricklike behaviour with the store owners. We found out that they were arguing about how the word España (Spain) has to be written. We walked in to that store because we were out of money, we didn’t have a place to be and we had to kill time before attending a soccer game between Spain and Germany later that afternoon. We had to stop being assholes for awhile and start talking to them properly.

We explained our jokes about our origin and told them the truth that we were from Spain, then the wife who was the only one who could speak English told us about her life, her husband’s life and yes… her daughter’s life. We couldn’t believe that glorious girl was their daughter. Even now I can’t believe that such a beauty came out of that one eyebrow man’s dick and that fat woman’s vagina. But over everything I can’t believe how someone could give such a disgusting nasty look to his own daughter.

The girl didn’t speak English and was too shy to even try (She was perfect). We very kindly ordered more ice creams, we were willing to wait around until she learn our language or we learned German if it was required. The truth is that we became completely different people when that girl walked in, that’s what people who will go to hell do, modify their behaviour depending on the appearance of the people who they are with.

We very kindly explained them how writing “¡Viva España!” (“Hurray Spain!” I guess it would be translated, they had problems with Spanish letter: ñ) The soccer euro cup final was about to be played in their town, a lot of Spaniards were around and they thought it would be good idea to put a little sign in their shop window to encourage Spaniards to come in to their store (A picture of their daughter would’ve been more than enough)

We pretended to be funny and healthy people who were just spending more than an hour eating fifty-cent ice creams because we “really” liked them and we just happened to want more and more. Sadly the match time approached at one point and we had to leave, we made the prettiest girl ever laugh a few times, but she just spoke German and it is very hard hitting on a girl while her mother is translating, so we left with nothing but the memory of having met a really unique woman.

After leaving we started worrying thinking about that father’s look to his daughter. We witnessed how Spain beat German in that game, but in our minds there was only room for what had happened in that ice cream shop. We felt guilty leaving her unprotected with that unibrowed father and his nasty’s looks. We saw the danger but we just left and that was wrong. These are better reactions to a father who wants to nail his daughter:

1/ Calling the police would have been the best thing to do (That’s right)

2/ Calling the police would have been the second best thing to do (That’s truth)

3/ Calling the police would have being the third best thing to do (Enough asshole! Make up something else…)

4/ Explain to her mother the father’s look we caught and leave with our minds relieved (She probably would’ve called the police because it was her first, second and third best option)

5/ Once the police had arrived explain to them what we witnessed and ask them to take measurements (After seeing the girl, policemen would have understood the poor man situation and they would have just eaten some ice cream while trying to make advances with her )

6/ Forget that the translator was her mother and hit on her (I’m so stupid. If I had done that I could’ve lived with my conscience clear so far)

7/ Memorize the store’s location. Come back home and dedicate my whole life to learning German to be able to talk to her without translator. Go back to the store and sweet-talk her (Wouldn’t work, I’m not funny or interesting in Spanish, even less in English What makes me think I would be in German?)

8/ Give her nasty looks too, she probably grew up with that and she relates that with masculinity (We probably don’t know it but we gave her very nasty looks already)

9/ Give nasty looks to her father (I have a unibrow fetish)

10/ Move to Vienna and stalk her (It got bored after a few months)

Ways of dealing with an operator

2010-05-26T05:55:00.002+02:00

You know how operators work. You are at your house sleeping, watching TV, hanging out with your girl, by yourself staring at a wall for hours or just trying to convince yourself of getting in to the bathroom and cutting your feet nails for the last fucking time when the phone starts ringing. Someone tries to sell you something, you are not interested at all but the operator insists asking you and offering you crap.

Ok, everybody has his own methods, but the truth is that most of us just listen to them trying to be polite while we try to ending the conversation in good terms. I went to an operator training once. I thought if I couldn’t beat the enemy I should join him, so I went to an interview and then to a process of selection where they taught me their soulless methods. One of the advices I recall is for example: When you are at the phone you are not a human being anymore, you are a seller Understand?

They have other techniques as well, for example, they know every possible response a client would make and they have several responses to hold the phone call on, they trained us to avoiding costumer’s hangs up. For three days I was trained to sell some offer to people. It was for a cell phones, TV channels and internet company named “Orange”

They told me things like: Old people are better because they are easier to confuse. Don’t hang up if the person who answers the phone tells you that the person you are asking for is death, it means that we can’t sell to him anymore but we can sell to the one who you are talking with. Don’t speak with them about anything that is not our offers, remember, you are a seller, not a person. Our offers are not better than the others companies offers at all, but you have to believe it is to being able to sell something.

I didn’t get the job at the end, for one part I was happy because the job sucked and it was going against my principle (just kidding. I don’t have any…) but for another part I was pissed because that place was full off smoking hot women. It was a joke, there where like forty people there, half of them were hot women. And the worst thing was that the guys there were really ugly. A bunch of hot women mixed with a bunch of ugly dudes it’s always something I don’t like to miss.

The thing is that since I went to that interview every time that I receive a phone call from an operator I answer this: Sorry, I don’t want to be rude but I worked as an operator too and I’m aware of your bullshit, just let me go man… They usually understand and hang up, sometimes they even chit-chat with me about how awful they job is (once someone told me how awful his life was…). But the truth is that I think there are better ways of dealing with an operator:

1/ If you want to end the thing quickly just scare them. Talk to them on high levels, yell a lot, if you can, try to emulate and Italian or Ebonics accent. If you have them just use them (Italians shouldn’t emulate Ebonics and blacks shouldn’t emulate Italian’s accent… Fuck it! You should try it):

Operator: Hello May I speak to “Mr. X” please?

You: Who the fuck is fucking asking that mother fucking question?

Ok, probably the thing would end there, but if you find a tough seller it would keep going like this:

Operator: Excuse me sir… Are you “Mr X” please?

You: Okay fucking asshole. I’m gonna tell you and I’m gonna tell you just once. If you don’t fucking hang up your piece of shit of phone right a way I’m gonna take my glock and search you until one of us dies

2/ When you answer the phone and you realise you are talking with an operator don’t talk, just be quiet letting the operator hear your breathing without saying a word until he hangs up (It can probably last hours though)

3/ If you are bored at home and you want to have some fun you should try this one:

Operator: Hello May I speak to “Mr. X” please?

You: You are talking to him alreadyyyyyy…

Operator: Okay sir. My name is “Sucker” I’m from “Orange” Would you be interested in hearing our offers?

You: Hello “Suckerrrrrr…” How are youuuu…?

Operator: I am very fine thank you very much… So “Mr. X”…Would you be interested in hearing our offers? They are really good

You: Will you be my best frienddddd?

Operator: I beg your pardon sir

You: Can I pet you like a doggyyyyy “Suckerrrr”?

Operator: Excuse me?

You: I love youuuu you love meeee we’re a happy familyyyy, with a great big hug and a kiss from me to youuuu. Won´t you say you love me toooo

4/ If you wish you were funny but unfortunately you are not. Redeem yourself and take advantage of a person who is paid to liking and pleasing you. Make your stupid jokes but this time get a guffaw at the end:

Operator: Hello May I speak to “Mr. X” please?

You: Whatever it is I didn’t do it… hahaha

Operator: Hehe… My name is “Piece of shit” I’m from “Orange” Would you be interested in hearing our offers?

You: Would be “Orange” interested in my offers… hahaha? (Very important: Always laugh of your own jokes… well; if you took this option you probably do it already)

Operator: Mmm… We have a really fast connection going on, a lot of TV channels… (I don’t know what the fuck they say around Anglo-Saxon countries but it doesn’t matter. Never listen to them! Interrupt them all the time)

You: What does a tree say to another tree?

Operator: Sorry? What was that?

You: Nothing! Vegetables don’t speak! Hahaha

Operator: Oh hehe…Listen to me Sir, we have good offers in terms of… (Interrupt him again)

You: This is a woman who didn’t know how to name her cat and she named it “Myboobs” One day the cat was missing and she asked a cop: -Did you see “Myboobs” And he answered her: - No but I would like to… hahaha

Operator: Hehe… We have cheap offers as well such as… (Interrupt him again and again and just tell him all that joke material you had had forgotten in your drawer on and on until he hangs up)

5/ Tell the operator you can’t talk because you are driving your car and then pretend to have a mortal accident before hanging up. The operator probably won’t give a shit because they give away their souls in the operator’s training, but maybe you find someone who stills being a good person and freaks out for the rest of his life (Being a good person has always bad consequences)

6/ If you are with some friends at home and they are up to it, you should make a scene. Recreate an assassination or a rape, something like this:

Operator: Hello May I speak to “Mr. X” please?

You: What’s up? (Here your friends should start screaming like if someone was killing or raping them while they ask for help desperately)

Operator: Okay sir... My name is “Asstight” I’m from “Orange” Would you be interested in hearing our offers? (They would probably last awhile until they get worried about what they are hearing. Don’t forget they are trained to be soulless)

You: I’m very busy right now… What is your offer about? (While your friends are screaming you have to speak with a really nervous voice. Don’t forget, you are an assassin)

Operator: No problem, I’ll be fast sir… We have a really fast connection going on, a lot of TV channels… (Let them explain their whole shit while your friends keep on screaming without saying a word, then the operator would probably ask this: - Is everything okay sir?)

You: (Now it’s your time to scream and became in a real killer) No! Everything is not okay! Shut up kids don’t make me end all this right now! Come here! Come here right now! Wait there piece of shit! (In this point just drop the phone and start making fight noises and screams)

7/ If the operator is a woman you should play the sex offender character. Breathe very intense, gasp to the phone every time… (Well, if you are reading this you probably are a sex offender and you already know what to do)

Operator: Hello May I speak to “Mr. X” please?

You: Yes… I am “Mr. X”… Who are you? (Try to sound like if you were really horny)

Operator: I’m calling you from “Orange” Would you be interested in hearing our offers right?

You: What is… your name… sweet? I like your girly voice…

Operator: Hehe…My name is “Carla” sir… We have a really fast connection going on, a lot of TV channels… (Interrupt her)

You: What are you wearing…Carlygirl?

Operator: I beg your pardon

You: Aaah… (Make a big gasp here, like if you were touching yourself already) Are you wearing panties…Carla? (Repeat her name, make her regret that she told you)

Operator: Excuse me sir…

You: Aaah… You have a fatty girl voice Carla… Are you a fatty girl Carla? Are you a really fat big nasty woman Carla?

I think she probably would hang up after this, but just in case she went to an intensive operator’s training. It would follow such like this:

Operator: No sir, as matter of fact I am not an over weighted person… Are you interested in what are you hearing or not?

You: Oh yeah… Keep talking Carla… I’m almost there… aaah… I’m almost here baby keep talking…I like your fatty voice… (She won’t talk of course, that will make you very angry) What the fuck? Keep talking you bitch!

8/ If you want to have fun but you are in a hurry and the operator is a dude you should try this one: Do a really disgusting gay voice (Despite we can say, men aren’t ready to deal on private with homosexuals yet)

Operator: Hello May I speak to “Mr. X” please?

You: Hellooo I’m “Mr. X” cowboy (Don’t forget the really gay voice)

Operator: Oh, hello “Mr. X” I’m calling you from “Orange” Would you be interested in hearing our offers right?

You: Of course I am cowboy… Did someone tell you that you have a really manly voice? I bet you are very tight and you are in great shape… hihihi

Operator: Oh, thank you sir I appreciate that… We have a really fast connection going on, a lot of TV channels… (Interrupt him, don’t let him talk too much)

You: Did I tell you that I’m alone at home… home alone like Macaulay… hihihi

Operator: I beg your pardon

You: I want your cock in my asshole right now bad boy

Operator: What?

You: I wanna be your slave. I wanna be punished by your venous big cock. Make me scream like the girl I am!

9/ If you want to have fun without any effort just try this one: Pretend to be very interested in what the operator has to tell you, more or less like this:

Operator: Hello May I speak to “Mr. X” please?

You: Yes, I’m “Mr. X” How are you? (Pretend to be very excited and interested with the phone call)

Operator: I am very fine thank you “Mr. X” I’m calling you from “Orange” Would you be interested in hearing our offers right?

You: Oh yes I am very interested sir, I was expecting your call… Right now I was in the middle of something but it will only take me a moment. Would you wait two minutes for me please? I’ll be right back (Leave your phone and keep doing whatever you were doing, put the operator on hold those two or more minutes until he gets desperate and hangs up)

10/ My last advice is paying them with their own medicine. It would work like this I guess:

Operator: Hello May I speak to “Mr. X” please?

You: I am “Mr. X”

Operator: Good morning “Mr. X” I’m calling you from “Orange” Would you be interested in hearing our offers right?

You: Are you from “Orange”?

Operator: That’s right sir

You: Oh nice. What do you think about headphones with high sound quality?

Operator: Excuse me?

You: I have the best in the market right now… and they are very economic Do you work with headphones right?

Operator: Yes I do but… (Interrupt him)

You: How are they? Do you hear well or sometimes you wish you have better quality? How does the microphone work? (At this point the operator would be confused)

Operator: I guess I can’t complain… We have good offers in relation with… (Interrupt him again, most of them just read their stupid offers and don’t give a fuck about you, so you have to be rough at the interrupting part)

You: Shut up for a moment! What’s your name?

Operator: “Smellycrap” sir

You: Okay “Smellycrap” I have a game of fifty best quality headphones, they join every head size, they are quilted for your comfort. May I ask what head size do you have?

Operator: Mmm…

You: They have a small keypad where you can put your calls on hold or make multiple calls or a lot of different interesting options

Operator: Mmm…

Just keep bullshitting the operator until he decides to hang up and never calling you again.

Ways of saying No to a mass

2010-04-26T15:50:00.002+02:00

In the small village where I live there exists a tradition where some Christian people come by during holy week(the week of Easter) from Madrid to pray and similar bullshits. The priest asks the inhabitants who usually go to mass to feed them for a day. Two people from Madrid to every Christian inhabitant’s house to have lunch. That’s pretty much how it works

So there I was, lying on the sofa petting my balls when my mother told me that the next day two unknown Christians from Madrid would come to eat with us. I laughed, I usually laugh with everything related with religion, I find it very funny, of course Christians don’t find that I find it funny, funny. They don’t think anything is funny actually.

Spain is full of fucking Christians, thank God most of us are just born Christian, we are not really believers, we don’t have much of any other religion so I don’t have more complaints. For some reason I couldn’t understand yet, I thought that two hot girls would come to my house. I related the words: “two Christians” with the words: “two hot women” (Did I say that I’m an idiot already right?).

So the next day I was expectant waiting for them to show up. As the hour was approaching, the more I started doubting: Well… they don’t have to be two hot girls, that would be crazy, but maybe just one, one hot girl isn’t an unrealistic thing, Spain is full of Christians and hot girls too… After awhile of fooling myself, they arrived, I saw them by the window first. A dude and a chick, in their thirties, he had a prick appearance and she was one of the ugliest human beings I’ve seen.

The polite shit started, the: “hello, my name is…, I work in…You have a beautiful place… bla bla bla” After that enriching introduction we sat to have lunch. Guess what was the topic at the table, oh yeah: Jesus is so great, God is amazing, the new pope is so lovely, the Virgin Mary is of the hook yo´… After sharing the greatness of Catholicism the Christian prick told us a story about how God had helped him in the past and why he was so religious now (Despite Woody Allen’s movies, Spaniards don’t speak English in private, so I’m going to translate for you how he told us his encouraging story and how the meal went).

Christian prick: A few years ago I was making the Santiago’s way (That’s a famous tradition in Europe, people walk hundreds of miles to the Cathedral of the city of Santiago de Compostela, some of them for religious matters and most of them for fun. It started as a piligrimage route but for most people its just the world’s longest hiking trail. The Christian prick was doing it for fun I guess) At one point I was at some villager’s house resting (Villagers feed and let people who are making the way to sleep in their houses, that’s a nice tradition) when I felt to the floor, everybody around worried and I didn’t know why, then I realized that I was in a Rottweiler’s zone, he was tied up, but he could reach me and he bit me… But the Divine Providence made that the dog in stead of clamping on to me, it let me go…Since them I have followed God’s ways and teachings

My father: God is always there for us

Ugly Christian: You are lucky He was there for you…

My mother: That breed usually bites so hard I can’t believe you are alive

Me: Did you really step into religion because of that experience?

Christian prick (Proud of himself and his shameful story): Yes, it was very refreshing

Me: Your story is awful sir, that’s all I can say right now

Christian prick (To my parents): Doesn’t he believe?

My mother: He is just joking, don’t pay him any attention…

Lunch went on like this for some time, stupid conversations about stupid God. Once we were done, dessert arrived, my father always has homemade liquors, he offered them to try one and since they were polite people who they had just met, they didn’t have the guts to say no. First of all, my father gave them a shot of some kind of moonshine (Agua ardiente in Spanish), if you don’t know, it is a really strong drink. They swallowed, it was pretty hard for the woman, but the guy took it really good, or he pretended to, my father understood that as a challenge I guess.

My dad started talking about how his brothers make that liquors at home, how he has a bunch of different flavours and how fucking great they are, the Christian prick stood pretending to be very interested in what my father was telling him, just being polite of course. Then my father offered him another kind of home made liquor, after pretending to be very interested, the guy couldn’t deny the offer and he took another shot of a strong drink. It wasn’t over yet, my father has a lot of Galician home made liquors and that guy was taking them very good so far.

After that, he offered another, this time the Christian refused, but my father insisted for a while: “This is lighter and tastier” The Christian took the lighter and tastier too, the spectacle had just started amusing me. The prick was already more pleased than a few minutes ago, but my father in his kindness thought that it would be a good idea to show him more of his liquors: “This one is strong, I won’t lie to you, but we made it with pieces of fruits and it tastes like fruit, try it, don’t be shy” And he wasn’t, the Christian prick took his fourth shot in five minutes, at that point he was already smiling more than ever before.

Christian prick (Hiding his retches): Oh I can feel the fruit… it tastes really good, strong but good…

My father (Filling the shot’s glass): You can have another, I don’t care, my brothers gave me a lot. Don´t be shy...

The guy waited for a minute and ignoring his friend’s advice he took his fifth shot at dessert. Then my mother brought coffee, before they started drinking it I had an idea, I was bored and getting that guy drunk by taking advantage of my father’s ignorance and kindness seemed like my best option to have some fun.

Me: Dad Why don’t you show them how we drink coffee around here?

He of course did, Galicia is a Celtic place, so our coffee is drunk as Irish coffee is (They are Celts too). He put moonshine on their cups, second shot for the woman, sixth for the man. I even laugh now recalling his face, that guy’s kindness and shyness put him really drunk that day. He was pretending to be fine, like if everything was normal around him, but I knew he was faking, that guy was worse than some guys at daybreak at pubs’closing time. That situation was really amusing me, so I kept forcing it.

Me: If he likes our Irish coffee, you should show him our coffee liquor dad

I thought that it was impossible, I just said that to make myself laugh, but my father took his home made coffee liquor (It is a tasty and strong drink with coffee flavour). He offered it to the prick, I mean, he filled the guy’s glass with it and gave it to him. The guy laughed uncomfortably saying that he didn´t want it trying to not being rude, after a few offers and a little bit insistence he took that shot too (Did I say that he was drinking home made wine at lunch?) The woman started to make moves to leave, they had to be at the priest’s place to sing at an afternoon mass or something like that.

The prick went to the bathroom and stayed there for a while, I think there was when the woman started to prepare the departure. But she ended talking with my father about “A Queimada” This is a Celtic tradition still alive where I live where people put moonshine liquor with other ingredients such as fruit or sugar, then they shut off the lights, burn it in the dark and while is fuming people say charms and when the flame expires they drink it. My father didn’t do the whole thing; but he took a clay saucepan, put some liquor on it, put sugar and burned it.

When the prick came back from the bathroom he witnessed the scene. Of course he couldn’t deny a shot of that mysterious liquid he had listened about but never saw because they don’t do it in Madrid. He ended having two shots making a total of nine shots in more or less twenty minutes. After the “Queimada” they left, honestly, the woman had to walk his friend out of the house (We found remnants of puke all over our bathroom after they left, it seemed like even though he was drunk, he was sober enough to put an effort in to cleaning it, didn’t succeed)

Of course before leaving, the woman as a Christian like she was, tried to evangelize me, that’s what Christians do, they need to make sure everybody around them loves their God

Ugly Christian: Are you coming to the mass this afternoon?

Me: Mmm…

Ugly Christian: You should, you really have to come, mass is really important. Do it for us, we are leaving pretty soon to Madrid, you have to come to mass please, you will feel better with yourself if you come Would you come to the mass please?

Me: Ok, I will go to your mass

She left happily. Of course I didn’t go to her stinky mass, I just told her I would to end that recriminatory conversation. I lied to her. I failed one of their ten commandments, I thought that maybe it wasn’t the best way of behaving. These are other ways of saying No to a mass:

Ugly Christian: Would you come to the mass please?

1/ I wish I could, but I’m not sure about my beliefs yet, I would feel uncomfortable in a Catholic mass with everybody believing in a thing I don’t believe in (Christians don’t give a fuck of what people think, they just want people in church to get their money)

2/ I’m not sure if I will, I have to read to the blind this afternoon, but you can go anyway, enjoy the sermon (Ironically I usually read sermons when I’m reading to the blind)

3/ I’m sorry madam, I relate Christianity with Nazism and I don’t want to be related with any of them (Would have I said something untrue?)

4/ Yes, I love masses, I really enjoy the shaking hands part, I like touching and petting old people (They are like big peanuts)

5/ The truth madam is that I’ll kill myself and my family before putting my foot in that devilish building (I will kill her too)

6/ Shut the fuck up fucking whore! You are in my fucking home! How dare are you to force me to go to a fucking mass? Fuck you and fuck your God! (Some honesty at last)

7/ Excuse me but I won’t go, you shouldn’t either, priests are full of shit. Why don’t you go upstairs with your drunken friend and pleasure him? (He was too drunk to care about her ugliness and she was too ugly to care about his drunkenness)

8/ They banned my entry in to church because I masturbated staring at Virgin Mary statues (She turns me on)

9/ I would love to go, but I dated the priest when I was a little kid and our relationship is still a bit uncomfortable (He hurt me in so many ways…)

10/ I’ll go if you suck my dick and swallow my cum in front of the altar at the Eucharist part (Jesus loves that shit, he was a hippie)

Things I don´t do

2010-04-25T18:56:00.002+02:00

There are some things people do and I don’t. I don’t know if everybody really does those things or just pretends to like myself, let’s check it out:

1/ On my birthdays with the candles and the cake, everybody around me forces me to make a wish when I blow the candles but I don’t do it. I just pretend to make a wish, when they ask me what I wished for I just tell them that if you say it, the wish won’t come true. That stupid excuse works perfectly (I wish I could fake the blowing the candles part too)

2/ When I find someone I know on the street or wherever I don’t get happy, it doesn’t excite me at all. But since everybody looks so excited and happy to find me on the street or wherever I have to pretend to be happy and excited (We are just two human beings who happen to know each other from the past and who happened upon each other )

3/ Sometimes I find myself in situations where everybody starts singing: birthday parties, family reunions, hanging out with friends, satanic meetings... I don’t sing, I just pretend to be singing, moving my lips and sometimes nodding my head too (I usually don’t even know the lyrics)

4/ I went to church a lot when I was a boy, in there everybody is praying, sitting down, standing up or on their knees. I didn’t pray, I just pretended to be praying, closing my eyes with strength and making a hopeful gesture while thinking about my own stuff (I bet God fakes that He is listening too)

5/ When I’m lost in my car and I ask someone for directions, I don’t pay any attention. I just pretend to be listening while nodding my head hoping the explanation ends (I usually get the first phrase, follow that indication and then ask again to another person)

6/ I don’t wash my hands after peeing, I have my cock clean and I don’t touch the toilet or the pee with my hands, but if I’m in a public restroom and someone is in there I have to wet my hands pretending that this is what I usually do (Ok, maybe I’m a pig, but what do you say about that useless hands driers they have in the public bathrooms How do they expect we get our hands dry?)

7/ When I’m playing soccer and I score a goal I don’t get excited, everybody else acts as if they have just won the lottery but I just walk to my position again shaking hands with my team mates (I don’t see the big deal of putting a stinking ball inside a stupid goal in a shameful soccer game with loser players like myself)

8/ When a kid plays chess, basketball or whatever his parents force him to do with me, I don’t let him win. And I don’t fake being impressed of untalented boys gifts when their parents force them to show me (parents should beware of their kids limits, that’s my contribution to humanity)

9/ When I’m in the bed with a woman and something goes wrong I don’t pretend to be surprised and apoligize(I’m here to be pleased not to please)

10/ When I have to go to a funeral of someone I hardly knew I’m not sad at all. I just pretend to be sad in front of everybody but when I can have a private moment with someone who has my confidence, I make dark jokes and we laugh (You can make dark jokes at my funeral if you want I won’t give a shit then)

Reactions to a younger girl´s interest in a train

2010-04-18T23:18:00.003+02:00

I was on a train around Europe with a friend and an Italian buddy of ours. We were tired and sleepy, when the team you were supporting wins its first title in fifty years you don’t get to sleep enough. The Eurocup had just finished, Spain had won it and our trip had ended. We had to get back to Spain, but we were broke in Austria using a soon expired Eurail passes. They are those all-you-can travel train tickets that people backpack across Europe with. Of course we didn’t have a seat (People with Eurail passes are victims of hate around those trains, watch out if you are willing to go)

So we were sitting on the floor near a bathroom, trying to get through the trip as well as we could. I really wanted to sleep but I couldn’t, I can in a train’s seat but I can’t on the floor while I have to constantly move out of the way for people with seats to get to the bathroom. My goal on that train was as simple as this: Get a fucking seat and sleep!

In the car in front of us was an excursion of a camp or something like that. It was full of teens, a group of five or six were staring at us and waving the whole time. I’m pretty ugly but sometimes I find girls who think I look exactly like the love of their lives. I guess some of them were on that train that day.

After waving, staring, screaming and going to the bathroom every five minutes, the interaction began. They were a group of five or six girls with no more than fourteen years. I was 21, my friend was 24 and I don’t have a clue about the Italian’s age, but he was older than me for sure. Those groups of teens are better organized than people think. They have a hierarchy, a strong leader, solids ranks, predetermined objectives, a well-studied way of working and the most important thing, they think they are unstoppable and they are probably right.

They sent two soldiers at the beginning to recognize the target. The soldiers were a fatty outgoing girl and a shyer regular one. They asked the typical teen questions: What are your names? Where are you from? Do you speak German? And English? What are you doing here? Can we stay here with you and talk? Can our friends come too? And we answered the typical idiot’s answers:

Me: - Prince Second
Friend: - Prince Third…
The Italian: - Francesco

Me: - I was born somewhere in the Sea while my mother was running away from the Spanish inquisition accused of witchcraft in an inflatable raft
Friend: We are twins…
The Italian: - I’m from Milano (Yes, the Italian didn’t go along with our humour very well)

Me: - Only in the privacy of my home
Friend: - I’m the one who he talks to…
Italian: - No, German is very hard

Me: - I tried once, not my thing
Friend: - I’m from NY but we don’t use it anymore back there
Italian: We are speaking English right now!

Me: - We went to the grocery and then we took a bus, later a train…
Friend: -Where are we?
Italian: - I’m travelling with some friends I’ll meet them in Innsbruck

Me: Do you have seats?
Friend: We don’t have much conversation, we can stare and smile though
Italian: Sure, Do you want to sit? (He was such a gentleman offering them a spot on the floor, Italians are way ahead from the rest of men)

Me: Did you mean older sisters?
Friend: Mums?
Italian: Yes, tell your friends they can come

They listened to the Italian and went to get the rest of the group, their mission was accomplished. We maintained a teen’s conversation for a while, it was like when you are twelve or thirteen and you talk with girls for the first times, but we were in our twenties. I can’t remember all of them; just the outgoing fatty, a regular one and a shy pretty one (Yes…) The thing that I do remember is that most of them were pretty daring.

From the beginning it was pretty clear that they were interested in us, they begged to take photos with us, they were excited and nervous and I have to say that we were enjoying the attention. After exploring the territory for a while they went into action. They started with the hook up questions:

Fatty: - Do you guys have a girlfriend?

Me: - Yeah, she is actually the train’s driver
Friend: - She is gone…death, but I didn’t do it… well yes, but I didn’t want to… she almost begged for it
Italian: - We broke up earlier this summer, it was painful after three years but we still… bla bla bla (Are you fucking serious?)

Fatty: - Are you guys looking for one?

Me: - Yes, she actually disappeared two years ago Would you take a look to her picture?
Friend: - Yes, my blood thirst isn’t quenched yet
Italian: - I don’t think I’m ready to get involved in another relationship (Dude… you need one with a shrink).

Fatty: - Do you think my friend is cute? (an ugly one).

Me: - Mmm…
Friend: - Mmmm…
Italian: - Mmmmm…

Fatty: - Do you think my other friend is cute? (the shy and pretty one).

Me: - Mmm…
Friend: - Mmmm…
Italian: - Yes, I bet a lot of guys are after her

Fatty: - Do you think I am cute?

Me: - Mmm… Look how beautiful is that lake!
Friend: - Awesome lake!
Italian: - What lake? (There isn’t lake buddy…)

Fatty: - Do you like anyone of us?

Me: - I think that you are not the worst human beings I have talked with
Friend: - That’s because I’m the worst human being he has talked with
Italian: - I would have to try you first je je (…)

While we were talking to them the rest of the more and less thirty teens in the camp were staring at us, proud of their daring girls making that situation ever weirder. Then my problem started. There was that girl, the pretty and shy, she was really cute, blond, nice smile, lovely, really beautiful… I would have fallen in love with her in the first second if I was fourteen but I was twenty-one. Her friends made her sit right on my side, forcing her to talk to me, but she was too shy and she blushed. I guess I got the pretty one of the group for once… (Score!)

For a while the conversation was only focused in hook up us together, and that was uncomfortable. I was single, the girl was pretty… But she was fourteen! It wasn’t a sex thing, she wouldn’t blow me or fuck me in that train, I wouldn’t try either of course (I swear) It was more like a platonic thing, fourteen years old love, hold hands, two kisses, nervous smiles… I needed to get out of there.

My friend helped me out, I didn’t want her to feel rejected or hurt or whatever, she was a sweet kind shy girl. So we told them we were too old for them, that we didn’t know Austria’s laws but that we thought that was a crime, and that we agreed on that. Honestly I always had a weird thing with younger girls, I don’t know why, but I always tried to hook up with older or same age girls, I would have felt really bad with a girl two years younger; I can’t imagine with an eight years younger.

With the help of my friend and after going to the bathroom, didn’t know how to lock the door. Pissing sitting down because trains move and I don’t like piss in my shoes. Witnessing how an old woman opened the door and everybody around the bathroom watched me pissing sitting down in a toilet. I could get out that situation. We convinced them that I was very tired and needed a sit, they offered their seats and I went to sit down while they kept talking to my friend and the Italian guy, who by the way acted like he was jealous instead of helping me out to get through that situation (We lost contact with him pretty soon)

Once on the seat trying to sleep, everybody of that camp excursion was staring at me. I couldn’t sleep at all, even though I had accomplished my train’s goal, I was nervous, the whole thing with the younger girl had disconcerted me. I kept thinking about how pretty she was, how she looked almost seventeen, how I look almost seventeen too, how I had taken advantage of a fourteen sweet shy girl and her friends to get a seat on the train, how I became a selfish person. I started feeling bad, I thought that my reaction wasn’t the most appropriate one. These are some better reactions to a younger girl’s interest in a train:

1/ Speak with honesty to the girl, tell her that she is pretty and that she must be worth a lot, but due to the difference of our ages our love is impossible (Of course, teenagers always run away from impossible loves)

2/ Tell her that I like her, give her a kiss. Get off on the next station pretending to be crying, waving from the outside to her while my friends console me (I have always wanted to wave to someone in a train station while crying)

3/ Exchange our personal information. Mail her and phone her everyday until she turns eighteen and then start a platonic relationship (She would wait for sure…)

4/ Once I was pissing sitting down exposed to everybody, call her and make her watch the spectacle (Her love would have ended there)

5/ Beg for her mother’s number (She was a beauty)

6/ Bring her to Spain. Isolate her of the rest of the world. Educate her by myself modelling her personality to be my perfect wife (I’d try to make her happy too)

7/ Ask the Italian to fuck her and leave me alone (He was seriously and dangerously interested)

8/ Make out with her and feel like a boy again (My life would have been very different then)

9/ Assume the state of a pederast and molest her (That’s what my teachers did with me)

10/ Take her to my house, lock her in the basement for years, have kids with her and then have kids with the kids (That’s pretty trendy in Austria)

Reasons why nobody reads my blog

2010-04-18T18:54:00.002+02:00

I started with this blog because an American cousin of mine asked me to. After coming back home from a trip to the US I sent him an email in English (We usually speak Spanish between us). He found it funny and told me I had to write a blog in English. I thought it would be a good way to improve my English so I started.

I’m the kind of person who should write a blog because I’m weird and weird things happen to me. Not only weird things, but unlucky and curious things too. If you and I are walking on the street and a bird shits you should calm down, it will land on my head, all over my hear, it will slide down my face and get in to my eyes; getting them itchy. And this probably will occur in front of an attractive group of females. (Oh yes…)

Once I was waiting for a bus to get back home after a night out. It was ten or eleven am (You know how Spain is) I had just moved to the country and to get to my house I needed to take two buses, one to a remote village and then another to an even more remote village where I live. I was waiting in the first remote village bus stop (A bus stop there is a stick in front of a house) I was pretty dizzy and tired after a whole night out.

Suddenly I saw a horse running in my direction really fast, I was standing up so when I saw the horse, I jumped out of the way. The horse kept running and crashed to a house’s window smashing it in to pieces and then it kept running down street. The residents of the house got out very nervous and started studying the damages, then the horse’s master arrived looking for his animal very concerned. They got in to an argument and since I was the only witness I had to answer a lot of questions and even calm down the heated discussion. I found myself hungover in the middle of a discussion I didn’t belong in and I was the most important factor in it (in the end, I think the house’s insurance paid for the window and wall).

Once I almost died when I was riding an old bike. I have very bad luck with bikes, since I was a kid I have broken almost every bike I’ve touch, always random things. But that day I was riding a bike without brakes in the really remote village where I live. I had just moved there so I didn’t know the roads, the one where I was going started to slope and I couldn’t stop so I tried to enjoy the descent. But after a kilometre or so a sharp bend appeared, a normal guy would have just crashed and hurt himself more or less seriously, but not me. It turned out that the curve was actually a little bridge over a dry stream, five meters high more or less. No security at all, just a little tiny curb, a curb where my front wheel crashed, flipping me over and making me fell down.

Thankfully, instead of falling down directly over the rocks and on to the ground, I went over some bushes and I rolled down to the rocks. My bike stayed up in the road and I ended up down a fucking bridge bleeding like hell on my legs and arms. The funny thing is, I got stuck in there, it was too high, it took me over twenty minutes to get back to the road and I had to climb, then I had to walk almost two kilometers to my house, uphill, I didn’t want to even touch that bike anymore and riding a bike uphill is harder than walking up. When I arrived home there were some relatives in there. A cousin, the bike’s owner, took care of my wounds; then she and her mother asked me to lead them to the place I crashed to pick up the bike.

We went in my aunt’s car, when we arrived to that bridge they saw two puppies almost dead on the riverbank on the other side of the bridge. They went down and started to take care of the dogs, I was injured and didn’t want to wait there. I just wanted to rest on a sofa or a bed. I begged them to drive me back home, but they didn’t want to. I ended walking up the road again, two fucking kilometres again (One puppy was already dead, the other was ok until my uncle run over him with his car a few weeks later).

Once I was taking exams in the closest city from my house, a thirty minute drive. I was 22 and was studying to getting the adult’s high school degree, like a GED in the US. I had to study at home, the syllabus was online and I didn’t have to go to classes, just go once a term to make the exams, ten exams in two days. My future was very uncertain (still is) and I needed to really get that degree, that’s maybe the reason why I was really nervous. I didn’t study very much, but I had read the subjects and made a lot of crib sheets.

During the first exam I felt a call of nature (I’m not always shitting myself, I swear). I ignored it and kept writing, it took me a long time to finish that exam so when I was done the other exam just had started and I couldn’t go to the bathroom. I started taking the exam but the needs increased, I farted a lot, really disgusting smells, and everybody around noticed it, I made the usual, look to another person with a bad recrimination face (that works).

But it go to the point where I couldn’t stand it anymore and had to leave the exam, of course where I live they don’t allow the people who are studying adult education to go to bathroom in the middle of exams and I had to give in the exam after fifteen or twenty minutes. Of course in that fucking school there wasn’t paper in the toilets and of course I got exasperate and thought the best idea would be taking my car and drive home. It was a thirty minute drive almost shitting the hell out of myself, that was the second closest time I almost shit on myself (you already know the first). By the way, I failed all the exams but two, one was the English exam Guess what was the other? (I guess I got superhuman powers from the shit, I wrote everything I could before leaving, but I didn’t know too much of that subject)

I have hundres of stupid stories like these. One summer I went to a cousin’s wedding, another cousin and I after the mass went hiding and smoke a few joints. We arrived late to the banquet and everybody was seated, my cousin sat in the only spot left at the youth table and I had to sit in the table with the older people in the other corner of the room surrounded by annoying elderly people and I was a little bit high. Then after the meal, when the dances started I was taping how the only pretty woman in the place was dancing when a thirty year old man who I didn’t know asked me:

Thirty year old man: Hey tío ¿Tienes novia? (Hey man, Do you have a girlfriend?)

Me: ¿Por qué? ¿Eres marica o que? (Why? Are you a fag or something?)

He didn’t take that answer well and he tried to fight me, the people held him and I just ignored him. Later I found out that I was taping his girlfriend and they weren’t happy with that. I didn’t realize it, I just was taping things; the only hot woman there appeared in my camera and I kept rolling. Then someone asked me if I had a girlfriend and I answered the first thing that came to my mind.(The guy that tried to fight me was my cousin’s wife’s cousin, and nobody was happy with the incident, it seemed like everything was my fault)

A few months ago my dentist got mad at me because I didn’t attend an appointment, they really hate that, he told me that I distorted his whole morning. I apologized to him the next time, but our relationship never has been the same. What I never told him is that I went to his clinic that morning, but before I stepped in the building I stepped on a fucking disgusting dog’s crap, tried to clean it but couldn´t because there wasn’t any water or grass around. For a couple of minutes I wandered around searching for a place where I could get my sneaker clean, but I didn’t, I got tired and I was pissed off, so I took my car, drove twenty minutes with shit smell and cleaned the sneaker at home.

Weird thins happen to me, all the time, that’s why I thought that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to write a blog. Share my adventures with the people who actually live a normal life, share my miseries. But when I started to write it I found out that nobody was reading it. These are my reasons why nobody reads my blog:

1/ It’s probably too early to expect a lot of readers, I just have to wait for one to show up and then gradually the blog would get more successful (Nothing I have done, do or will do would get more successful or successful)

2/ I chose a bad website, people don’t go on it. Plus I don’t know many people who understand English to tell them about my blog (I relate better with illiterates)

3/ People are only interested in real sex experiences blogs (Fiction is just not my thing)

4/ Readers just like family blogs, those ones that talk about how good life is, how tall the kid is getting, how in love the writer is with this new guy/girl/dog/cat/house/car, how bad his or her classmates were with the writer in the past or how some foreign country bank ripped the writer off (Yeah, that’s real literature)

5/ People think that my humour is beyond their minds. They worship me but they can’t follow me or understand me (I get it, same thing with women happens to me)

6/ They don’t read it because I am white (We are in 2010 I think it’s time to accept every race but gypsies)

7/ Readers fear me, they think I’m an unstable person and I will kill them if they read my blog (They are wrong I try to only kill people who really deserve it)

8/ The world hates me, in fact my life is in danger because of this blog (Your life is in danger because of this blog too)

9/ This blog really sucks, my stories aren’t funny at all, in fact they are offensive to women, kids, the elderly, men, blacks, gypsies, Jews, Asians, Native Americans and whites. My ten options are predictable and dreadful. My English is too bad too and they get more annoyed at every word they read (I’m not a racist, I even talked to a nigger once and I’m not sexist at all, I love cunts and those things around them)

10/ People are not interested in a sex offender’s blog (I’m not interested in readers who aren´t sex offenders)

Reactions to a call of nature in Salzburg

2010-04-09T11:40:00.003+02:00

Once, a friend and I spent a month backpacking by train around Europe. Our plan was to attend every match that Spain played on the Eurocup and to travel around in between the match days. We learned something: Pissing and shitting is expensive in Europe, in the US and Spain you can do it in several places, for free. In the middle of Europe you have to pay, and shitting is more expensive than pissing (I guess that makes sense)

One night we arrived in Salzburg, we checked in to a cheap hotel and went out to have some drinks. The city was great and the pub’s zone wasn’t bad, we went to one of the few Irish pubs and started drinking beer (Madly expensive by the way).

We were just sitting at the bar drinking and checking the people out, my friend was writing ideas on the coasters, I realized he must have had a lot of ideas when I saw that he was stealing coasters all over the place. It was crowded, there were majority dudes but there were some girls too, as usual the prettiest was the waitress. She looked somewhat interested in us, we probably were the only foreigners there that night.

When you spend weeks travelling, sleeping on trains, showering and going to the bathroom in train’s stations (paying for it) and eating just Kebaps, your body starts to be unpredictable. That night we paid for a hotel, I could have a shower and use a private toilet, but even though I tried, I couldn’t shit, I thought I just didn’t have to go and forgot about it.

But while sitting in that pub waiting to make a move on the waitress and start a conversation and probably an unhappy marriage, my stomach started talking, you know how it goes, you drink something cold, it wakes up your tummy and suddenly you really have to shit. That’s truly annoying, you try to convince yourself you can hold on, that it will disappear after a few minutes, but you’re wrong, every second is worse than the previous.

I went to the restroom, it was the classic pub bathroom; a broken sink, a disgusting chamberpot and a stinky toilet without paper behind a broken door full of names written on it. I wasn’t drunk at all, if I was I’d maybe shit there anyway, but when you are completely sober even though you are in a pub you don’t want to take a shit in front of other people without paper to wipe your ass. So I decided to ask my friend for the hotel’s key and go there to unload.

The only problem was that I was in an absolutely unknown city, I didn´t know anybody and I was broke, I had spent my money in that hotel that I was trying to find. I recalled more than twenty minutes of walking from the hotel to the pub’s zone but didn’t exactly recall the direction, plus I could hardly walk, the call of nature was really strong. I wandered around the city’s drunken youths pretending I was ok and just going somewhere I knew. It’s funny, I know that it’s impossible, but when you are suffering an unexpected call of nature, you think everybody around notices it, you think they are laughing at you and making fun of your misery (They probably were laughing at me and making fun of one of my others miseries though)

After fifteen or twenty minutes walking around trying to find something I could remember, a house, a store, something that made me find the direction to my hotel without success. I had to make another decision, I was going to shit in my pants if I didn’t change my strategy. I assumed I wasn’t going to find my hotel and just started to look for some other hotel, hostel, whorehouse or whatever place with a light inside.

I found a hotel, it was early, not 1:00 am yet I guess, a man was at the front desk. I asked him if I could use a bathroom. He asked me if I was a guest in his hotel. I said no. He said I couldn’t use his bathroom. I was suffering and didn’t have strength enough to get involved in an argument (Besides my English was even worse than now and his was awful too, of course nobody speaks Spanish around there)

I kept walking the deserted streets cursing that guy. On top of my needs to shit, piss needs were added. It came as a surprise, I didn’t pay attention to the piss before because of the shit, but before I knew it, the piss was almost getting out. There wasn’t a chance, I wasn’t going to make it. I had to piss on the street. When I was about to do it, a group of mature people appeared and I had to wait and act like if I was studying the street’s walls and bin containers.

When they left I could piss, but it wasn’t a relief, in fact pissing made my needs to shit bigger. Of course, nobody was in the street, but when you take out your dick a lot of people show up. I tried to go through that with the most dignity possible, the people passed by me and some of them said things in German and laughed. I pretended to be so focused on my activity that I couldn’t even notice their presence.

I ended and still walking hoping my hotel just appeared in front of me. When I was walking I saw a party in a house, there were topless women in the window screaming, smoking and laughing. Imagine how bad I was that I just kept walking looking for my hotel.

I was swearing a lot. I started shivering. I really needed to shit. My clock’s countdown was ending. I have to clarify that of course it wasn’t a regular crap, I had a diarrhea one. I can hold a regular shit. For God sakes! I’m not fifteen anymore…

I tried in another place, I can’t remember what exactly it was, hotel, restaurant, can’t remember. I begged for a bathroom but in Europe they don’t respect nature, their bathrooms are holy for them, not everybody can use them. I asked for help to find my hotel, I told them I was lost, they weren’t concern. They asked me about the name of my hotel, but I didn’t know it. I just left downcast.

After an hour searching for a bathroom, everything started to become really confused. I started to talk to my self out loud convincing my self I wouldn’t shit on myself while lost in an unknown city. I got in to a discussion with a bum who spoke Spanish with a Basque accent. I shared my misery with a really drunk lonely villager. A bouncer denied me entry to his whorehouse for using his bathroom, he spoke English or Spanish, I don’t remember, he told me they didn’t have a bathroom in there (that explains a lot of things doesn’t it?)

Don’t ask how or when, but at some point I recognized a monument on a roundabout, followed my instinct and found my hotel. As soon as I got in the bathroom’s room I started to shit like if I was a fucking fountain. I stayed there sitting on the toilet for a long time, not just shitting or wiping, but resting and calming down too. When I was done I washed my hands, my face and changed all my clothes. I didn’t shit on myself, but I sweated so much my clothes were sticking my skin.

It took me a lot of time to find the pub’s area after I left the hotel, but walking after being relieved is easier. When I got into the Irish pub it was almost empty, sleepy drunk people or drunk couples without a hotel room were the only things I could find there, the usual leftovers of that kind of place. I looked for my friend and he was almost asleep in a corner watching a pre-recorded broadcast soccer game that we had just watched in the stadium a few days before. The waitress wasn’t there anymore, the party was completely over. My night in Salzburg sucked because I didn’t know how to react to a call of nature. Now I have thought about it and I have found some better reactions than the one I chose that night:

1/ Go to the pub’s bathroom. Take the shit, wipe my ass with my hand. Wash my hand without water or soap because there wasn’t any. Get out of the bathroom. Shake everybody’s hand on my way back to the bar (Do you think I’d be the first one?)

2/ Confess my problem to the waitress and ask for her help (That would have turned out in love for sure)

3/ Get drunk quickly. Shit in my pants. Pretend that it never happened and continue with the party (I would be famous in Salzburg now)

4/ Shit in my pants. Blame my friend. Accuse him of the smell (I think he shit in his pants anyway)

5/ Jerk off (Why not? It’s always pleasant)

6/ Get naked pretending to be very drunk. Dive in to Salzburg’s river and take a submarine shit (Those are the best ones)

7/ Hold it until I died (I’d have a funny grave at least)

8/ Look for a church and shit inside it (Jesus would have understood it)

9/ Once I found the first hotel where they rejected me, take down my pants and shit on the hall’s floor (I would have shit all over myself too because I don’t know how to shit without a toilet but it would have been worth it anyway)

10/ Get in the house with the topless women and begin a shit, piss, puke dirty sex party (They would have agreed to that request for sure).

Ways of saying No to a video tape

2010-04-08T12:48:00.002+02:00

I’ve been in the States for a couple months due to some different reasons, one of them was that I wanted to learn English. I stayed with some relatives that live there and they signed me up in an English academy. I wasn’t very excited with the idea of going to class, that’s something I stopped doing when I was fourteen. Then they showed me a picture of my teacher on the school’s website. The first day I was there fifteen minutes early

Before describing this peculiar language school. I have to tell you how I got into Shakespeare´s tongue in the first place. I have a bunch of American’s relatives and I have studied this language in school since I was four. Despite that I didn’t know shit until I started to study by myself when I was twenty. My first teachers were Rachel, Ross, Chandler, Phoebe, Monica and Joey; then I fired them and jumped into Jerry, George, Kosmo and Elaine (I found them funnier). When I was able to understand them I hired Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci, that selection made several modifications in my way of talking, but I wasn´t done, when the Italians weren´t saying anything new to me I switched them for Tupac Shakur, Biggie Smalls, Marshall Mathers and Jay Z. Then was when I got the level I have now (And yes, my spoken English is kind of weird)

With that mixture of slangs, I went to the language school. It was a medium-sized academy, pretty new and with a lot of different female teachers teaching a lot of different languages, from English to Farsi passing through Japanese or Spanish. The only guy working there was the one who was leading the place, young, in his early thirties probably. Only a few seconds after meeting him I realized that I was dealing with a teacher pimp. He was too nice even for an american polite person. He introduced me to some different women making me wonder If he was offering me them and I had to chose one

They had a free trial lesson, group classes and "private" lessons. My relative paid for a month of group classes before I went to the free trial lesson. The guy told us that they were teaching only one level of English but in the near future they would make a separation and teach two different levels, low and medium. We weren’t sure about which one I would fit in.

Then I get into the class, six students, two Indians, four Mexicans, a cute teacher and me. First of all I introduced myself, then the others started, I was trying to find out which student´s level I was facing when one of the Indians started:

- Hello... ummm... My self is... Toupurt?

I couldn’t help it and I laughed, they gave me bad looks and I tried to hide my guffaw with more or less success. The others introduced themselves too and then I went pale when I realized that Toupurt was the most promising student there

At the house I told my relatives that I was at a higher level than the others students, but since they were going to separate the class we decided to hold on. I attended for almost a month two days per week and nothing changed (Well, not 100% true, one of my two teachers started to look very interesting for me but... What the hell! You know her already) I told my relatives that we should try the "private" lessons, I guess I mean, I told them to pay the money they earn with hard work so I could spend time alone with my teacher. They thought that was a pretty fine idea and next day I asked the pimp for the private lessons price, then he became my hero. The rate was like 500$ per month. One class a week! (It would be worth more if they paid me for prostitutes and I talk to them while nailing them)

Of course they found it too expensive and they didn’t want to pay all that money for me to go to the private lessons, but I continued attending to the group lessons for another month telling them I was learning some things (I did in fact, not about English but about life: Indians and Mexicans are not the smartest people out there) So there I was, learning how to say my name and age in English while exchanging silly looks with my cute teacher (Or that´s what I thought I was doing). Time passed by and I had to come back to Spain, I said good bye to the people there and then to the pimp, but he had other ideas on his mind, he was too much of a visionary to just let me go.

He told me that he wanted to talk with me, I said ok, I don’t avoid probably really strange situations, but two female friends who were new students were talking with him, they had just done the free trial lesson and were deciding if whether to sign in or not. They were Mexicans of course, they didn´t know shit of English, but that´s understandable, they only had been living in the US for two years... I had to translate, because the pimp didn´t know Spanish and they weren´t able to communicate. Then I found out that translators have the power, they are more powerful than Superman.

Mexicans: - Dile que nuestro nivel es demasiado bajo, no entendiamos nada de lo que decían ahí dentro (Tell him that our level is too low, we couldn´t understand a thing in there)

Me: - This isn´t what they expected, they are not happy with you

Pimp: - Oh... What seemed to be the problem?

Me: - Este dice que para eso estáis aquí, que tenéis que aprender Inglés de una puta vez (This guy said that´s the reason why you guys are here and that you have to learn English for fucking once)

Mexicans: - ¿Dijo eso? Dile que no estamos seguras, que no entendimos nada de nada, necesitamos cosas más basicas, empezar de un nivel más bajo ( Did he? Tell him that we are not sure, we understand absolutely nothing in class, we need more basic things, start with a lower level)

Me: - They feel betrayed, they thought they were coming to a serious place. The level is too low for them, they felt like if they were with retarded students inside that room

Pimp: They can´t even talk to me!!

Me: El tontin este no está contento con vosotras, dice que si después de dos años viviendo aquí no entendeis... quizas seais demasiado lentas para su academia (This prick is not happy with you, he says that if after two years in the US you don´t understand anything… maybe you are too slow for his academy)

Mexicans: ¿Dijo eso? Tiene razón, pero al tener la tele, los amigos y todo en español… (Did he? He is right, but since we have everything in Spanish: Tv, family and friends…)

The thing went like this for more or less twenty minutes, I don´t remember everything I said, but in one point it get difficult, boring and dangerous. Maintain a double, triple or whatever the fuck conversations that I was having at the same time is harder than I thought (Of course the Mexicans didn´t sign in)

Then the pimp thanked me for my help, carried me to a private room and asked some stupid questions about my experience in his academy, I answered with more honesty than I could imagine and then he put the whole thing straight, his whole plan.

Pimp: - Would you want to talk about your experiences here in front of a videocamera?

Me: - … (…)

Pimp: - It’s for our website…

Before I knew it, we were going to another room, a more isolated one. He put me in front of a wall, took his camera and started taping and asking me questions about my English and my experiences in the academy. I was confused, frightened. I felt like a teenager facing her first amateur sex tape with an older unknown fat man for fifty bucks. I answered his questions and pray and hope that situation ended. That was one of the lowest points of my life (The video is not on their website yet, I´m desperly looking forward to watch it)

The funny thing is that it seemed like I had learned all my English in only two months there. Of course that was the whole idea of the pimp; he was taking advantage of me. I knew it but I just blanked, I couldn´t say no and avoid a really uncomfortable situation, later I thought about it and it didn’t seem so difficult to say no. These are some ways of saying no to a video tape:

Pimp: - Would you want to talk about your experiences here in front of a videocamera?

1/ No, as a matter of fact I don´t want to sir (Hard?)

2/ Oh sorry, right now I am in a hurry sir, I’ll come back tomorrow if you want (Wouldn’t work, I’d probably come back next day, I’m really stupid)

3/ I´m sorry sir, I help poor children at nights, in fact I´m late, they must be with the glue already (That´s a funny way of getting high, I love those kids)

4/ Sure, I would love it, unfortunately my grandpa is really ill, he might die tonight, I have to say goodbye to him in the hospital, but you can come if you want, bring your camera! (An old man’s death video would be happier than me telling with my accent how great was that fucking school)

5/ No! Are you fucking retarded? I didn´t learn shit here Aren´t you aware of that? I speak exactly the same as I spoke two months ago. I only kept coming because I am a man and due to that fact I want to introduce my penis into my teacher´s vagina. But I´m not going to give any credit to your disgusting school because of that (Sure you wont asshole!)

6/ I could do that sir, but the truth is that I hate you, and your fucking school and I´d probably release my anger towards you and the place in that tape and your little silly commercial wouldn´t work as you expect (It didn´t anyway, it was lame)

7/ Yes! Let´s do this dude! I´m looking forward to tell everybody how I jerked off in every single corner of this building (Not true, I just did it five or six times and always in the bathroom)

8/ Why not? Let´s do it! And later we can tape how I introduce produce up your ass and urethra too (He would probably enjoyed that shit, he was odd)

9/ No, Fuck you! (Yes, Fuck him!)

10/ I love snuff movies. Do you have a pistol? We can use mine (I don´t have one but I bet he does, those teachers would have run away from that place if he didn´t have one)

Reasons why my teacher doesn´t answer my mails‏

2010-04-07T19:06:00.002+02:00

She appeared to be an average almost hot woman with some intelligence. We flirted in some weird ways even though we were surrounded by peculiar Indians and traditional Mexicans. Honestly I think I was the only normal person in that academy and I´m very far from normality.

When I told her I was leaving her country she told me that she was coming to Spain in May and she made an emphasis on seeing each other and grabbing some beers. I found that interesting. If I go out to drink with her thousands of miles away from the place we met, after a couple beers wild dirty sex might arrive. So I gave her my personal information, I wrote it in my English notebook and tore it out. She gave me her Office of the attorney general´s card and she hugged me. I didn´t know how that kind of things work yet so I patted her back with my hand three or four times. I read her card and found out that besides working as a teacher, she works as a constituent services manager. I´m a unemployed without money and studies, but I still thought I had a chance to tap her ass

After shooting a video for the English academy where I made a fool of my self and gave some free publicity to the place, I was ready to leave on my bike, but she was still there, I thought she was waiting for me, she asked me to mail her three times. I acted like I didn´t know if I would. I mailed her next day:

Hey teacher

How are you? I'm just here thinking about how stupid I am for didn't tell you that I'm going to be here another week, just in case you want to have a coffee or something. I guess I would like to get to know you a little better. I don't know how serious was that of see me in Spain, but I think it would be a bit weird if we do that and I don't tell you that I'm still here now. So if you have time and you want let me know and I'll bother you again

Saludos

I waited for two days for a response, I started thinking my mail sucked, but she answers friday morning:

Hi

How are you?

Glad you're still in town! Let me know your plans this weekend and
maybe we can grab coffee or a drink.

Even though she didn´t look very excited in her mail I thought my chances had just multiplied. I was leaving that Friday to the Grand Canyon, I was going to be out the whole weekend. I decided to wait to answer and play the interesting busy guy, when of course I´m not. I emailed her back on Sunday night:

Hi

I'm sorry I went to the grand canyon this weekend and couldn't check my mail. I'm leaving next saturday, believed or not during the week I take care of a two year old girl at mornings, but then I don't have much to do. I go around on a bike so I can't go too far... I think you are a busy girl for some reason but if you have time let me know, if you can't is not a problem, I'll see you in Spain

I waited for her response for a week but it didn´t arrive, I left the States but her mail didn´t show up, after a week in Spain I decided to end with any kind of pride in me and mail her again, I was approaching the stalker zone, I knew that and I emailed her anyway. The classic mail that tries to say that I don´t give a fuck she didn´t answer me:

Hey

How is it going? I didn´t get news from you. I hope everything is ok

She didn´t respond to this email either. These are my reasons why she isn´t answering my mails:

1/ She loves me, she is really scared of her feelings, she´s just fighting against her heart convincing herself I´m too much for her and I will hurt her (She´s right almost about everything)

2/ She fell in love with me, she thinks she is not ready to give in to me, she is actually a virgin, she wants to marry me, she´s afraid to put that straight (She´s clearly unstable, I´d marry her though)

3/ She has strong feelings for me, she thinks I´m the most handsome guy she has ever seen, she really likes me, but she is into the no sex with students policy (I understand, I shared class with the Mexicans and Indians)

4/ She doesn´t have an internet conection, she only can mail people when she goes to the library (She never goes to the library)

5/ She has internet conection, she is reading my mails, she wanted to fuck me, she is a whore, she fucked every cool, average and nerd guy in college. She noticed that I lyed to her in my response and she just decided to fuck some other random guy in stead (I´m a whore too but my hand will take care of me this time)

6/ She is confused, she just was being polite to one of her students, she was up for going out with friends and meeting me somewhere with my friends, but that was it (I don´t have friends, I spent my time with a forty year old couple and their superhuman children)

7/ My English is worse than I think, I just scared her with my language, she thinks I want to rape her (She is not 100% wrong)

8/ She is afraid, she just gave me her card because I gave her mine, she doesn´t want to ever see me again. I´m just a weird Spaniard missing a tooth who is ugly and acts like he is the most handsome guy in earth. She is hoping my mailing habit ends (Oops, didn´t see that coming)

9/ She has a boyfriend, she is in a serious relationship, she is a serious person with two serious jobs who lives with a serious guy with two serious jobs. She gave me her personal information by mistake, she couldn´t help it, she didn´t want to be rude with one of her students, she regrets that. She doesn´t know what to do, my mails concern her, she consulted with her boyfriend and they are calling the police (I still think that I have a little chance with her)

10/ She is married, happily. She changed her mail as soon as she arrived home after exchanging her personal information with me, she can´t believe that I tried to ask her out, she thinks she is way out of my league (The bitch is right)