I Will Never Not Dye

I think this finally needs to be addressed: http://www.facebook.com/#!/group.php?gid=24094450815

A Facebook group, two years old mind you, that brings to the attention of friends and followers of my obsession with Just for Men Dark Brown Beard Dye. At one point of its existence, it had almost 100 members – all addressing to me publicly their views on why I should let the natural color of my facial hair remain, and discontinue my use of Just for Men Facial Hair products. Though the group grew tiresome, and only 19 members still exist – I saw that I never truly gave any rebuttal on the matter, and kind of let those whom ridicule say their piece

A Perfect Day

Porn can be absolutely off of the wall sometimes. Now don’t get me wrong – I’m not trying to start an association against the boob-business, I’m just offering my opinion – strictly based on years of research. That is all. So as I was probing, for a thesis of course, I came across some “educated findings” that for a moment – made the left side of my conscience ask – “Why is this happening?” For that moment – I put aside my studies and continued to play Family Feud on Facebook – yeah, I usually am awesome, so don’t ask to “finish my high score” – finish yourself off.

Building Mansions With Writer’s Blocks

I could bore everybody with a day-to-day calendar of what I’ve done since my last post (27 days ago) – but ultimately I would just be pissed at myself for the incredible amount of time/money/life I have wasted since then. I figured I’d come up with some story about how I gave my time helping the community of Macomb, IL to get over the Tiger Woods fiasco (believe me, there are several thousand white girls on this campus wanting to use Tigers’ shaft – haha, golf joke.) Believe me, I’ve tried writing a blog in that period of time – but with my mind elsewhere, nothing really struck. I had one ready for posting last week – “Smell-Like-Ass Wednesday”. I’m not one to bash Catholicism, well – in front of you – but why put your Holliday right after New Orleans’ – doesn’t that seem rather selfish? I really cannot wait to read the emails from the “devoted Catholics” that can’t catch sarcasm.

Preparing for Stardom: The Life of A Professional Blogger

So, after I signed my contract (by contract, I mean thank you e-mail) with http://www.g1nbc.com/college , today – I realized that life was going to be completely different for me. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been used to fist-pounding every guy in the bar that I knew from high school, letting girls that thought my beard was sexy sit down next to me, and also the ever-so-common signing autographs – well, it usually is debit-card receipts at Buffalo Wild Wings but to each his own really. Now, it’s a whole new world out there.

I’ve received quite a welcoming response from most since the birth of this lovely site, and it’s been a very humbling experience – but I am obviously ready for the fame, the riches and the celebrity status-quo that comes from being a blogger. Now don’t worry, it’s not like I am quitting school because of my new-found love for blogging and the large lump sums of cash and groups of women that have suddenly come my way. I’m quitting school because I hate going to class hung-over.

Fisting and Pounding: I’m Talking About “The Fist Pound”, Perverts.

Today, for the first time since my senior year of high school, I received a high five-esque handshake from someone as I was walking out of a classroom and they were walking in. Not only were their several members of the Western Illinois University campus around me at this time – but two of my closest friends from campus, two bombshells (I can look, sweetie) and my favorite professor from last semester. I figured I was golden. There is nothing that anybody in that above mentioned group notices more than hand to hand recognition between two people. So even though I barely recognized this clown – I went for it, just for the sheer admiration of the people around me. Man, was I wrong.

Bouncing Off Stairs: A Love Story

Wow did I fall yesterday. Falling doesn’t even do what happened to me justice. I was already 15 minutes late for my 10:00 class, my first class of the semester – and my roommate DID warn me of the “ice” outside – but whatever, it’s just ice. So I get downstairs – and even though I’m later than one of Rick Pitino’s girlfriends – I decide to stop for a bottle of Gatorade (cheap product placement). Alright, so it’s 10:20 on syllabus day, no big deal. I walk out of the door and see the bus a good block away – I’m on cloud nine at this point – no walking in the snow for this guy. So, without hesitation I walk down the first st  ——-  See ya.

Bye.

Later.

Top 5 Reasons: Why School Has Officially Started

It’s Tuesday – and I have yet to have a class yet. Even though the phone calls are made, while birthdays are taking place – and even though drinking a woodchuck at 4:30 a.m., because there was nothing else available – seems to be…….and ideal day – there is that constant pulling of the hair type mindfuck that continues to take over my day. I guess you can only compare it to dancing at a Neil Young concert rather than dancing at a Neil Diamond concert. There’s everything you could want there – alcohol, music, people, large forest-like areas to pee in, and of course $8.50 nachos – but, there is that one thing that makes you go – “Wow, this just doesn’t do it for me”. If were continuing with the analogy, that of course is the fact that Neil Young would NEVER cover “Sweet Caroline” and that song just blows my damn mind. But anyways.

It’s school.

Martin Luther King Cobra Day

Today – I bring you not a matter of coincidence, not a matter of offense or ridicule – and not at all a matter that should be taken lightly. Over the years, as Americans – as Englishmen, as Asian(s) – as people of the world, we have taken it upon ourselves to find some way to initiate our own celebration and symbolic interactions into certain holidays and events. We created (please if your children are present, hide their eyes) a man that can travel the world in a night and made our children bake cookies for this imaginary being. We let a groundhog – a fucking groundhog, decide whether or not its going to snow, or if we can pick flowers in the next two weeks. So what you’re reading below is not just a corny celebration that shouldn’t be spoken of – no…it’s a celebration that needs to be spoken more of. Not as an offensive gesture, just as a matter of rememberance. Well…..hopefully you won’t remember much, if celebrated properly.