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)
Showing posts with label reasons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reasons. Show all posts
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Reasons why you are reading this
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)
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)
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Reasons I hope my landlord falls of a cliff
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)
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)
Monday, July 5, 2010
Reasons why my tongue is fucked up
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)
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)
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Reasons why my English is so awful lately
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…)
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…)
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Reasons why I´m my own blog follower
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?)
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?)
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Reasons why I´m still writing this blog
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)
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)
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Reasons why nobody reads my blog
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)
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)
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Reasons why my teacher doesn´t answer my mails
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)
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)
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