Stupid

So today I went to an open house where a local band was playing. They play punk rock, and it's a local band that I enjoy, even if I don't enjoy punk rock all that much. Sure, I enjoy Green Day (who I thought was Alternative rock for awhile) and Sum 41, I think they're pretty good. The band is called Powerout, and I enjoy them quite a lot. If I can find a way to post their music, maybe I'll do it.

Anyway, while I was listening to them, something that is often done at any kind of rock music is the art of head banging. For those who may not know what this is (I hope there is not one of you out there who doesn't know what that is), this is when the power of rock is so powerful, when the notes fly out and hit you in the face, your head flies back.

However, letting your body and mind just succumb to the powers that be is something that is contradictory to the message of rock. So, even if you don't consciously mean to, your body will go, "Don't you dare let this control you. Fight back". Then your head follows through and fights back. Your neck flies forward and smacks rock in the face giving it a big middle finger. Then just as the salmon swims down the streams at birth and up the waterfalls to breed and lay eggs every year and just as Apple comes out with a new i_____ that's just a smaller version of whatever they made five months ago with a larger memory and possibly a camera, the process repeats.

Why bring this up? Why is this titled the way it is? Well I'll tell you. I have long, thick, black Asian hair. It's coarse and straight. The way it grows, if nothing is done to it, makes me look like an Asian woman. Being I am a male, I do not enjoy looking like an Asian woman, so I'll put a little bit of gel in it and it makes it spiky so my hair looks like a cliche anime character. Most people compliment me on my hair more when it looks like an anime character's hair.

So you know when you look at such a characters hair and you might sometimes find yourself thinking, "Wow, how ridiculously spiky. They could kill someone with it". Well today, while I was headbanging, my hair repeatedly flew forward and proceeded to stab its own master, aka me, in the eyes. I never thought I'd see the day where my own hair was able to stab my own eyes. It was...well, as the title says, stupid.

Finally

So I finally have a car. It's mine, in my name, registered, the only thing that I don't think is under my name is the insurance, however, I still have to pay for it regardless. So anything I make off of this account, instead of paying for something that I actually want like new clothes, it'll go right to insurance cause when I get a job, all of that is being saved for when I finally escape this place.

Now, as a fore warning, everything in this post is going to be very rant oriented and not humorous at all, if that's what you're looking for, you may want to click somewhere else. I just want to rant out and plan out things and if you've ever wondered what I might be like, well this is a little step in that direction.

So, for the past year or so, I've realized that I am completely different from my entire family. Not in an angsty teenage, "nobody understands me" kind of way, or hell, maybe it is, but I don't really share that much in common with my family, I'm just out there.

My family is very high strung and very emotional. They think with their hearts, which in many respects is a good thing, and is something that I sometimes envy. However, most of the time, they're thinking with anger and short fuses. They're all easily frustrated and quick to snap about things. They're perfectionists and demand everything in their lives be right. Everything has to be set the way they want it or they almost explode. You have to play by their rules or you're rejected.

I on the other hand am a very laid back person. I'm calmed, relaxed, even when I'm angry I'm still able to keep my cool. I think with quick logic, and although as evidenced from my earlier stories I may be a smart ass, it's never antagonistic.

My family is a very bitter family. Very cold. They scrutinize quite heavily. They find fault with my sister's grandma and her dad (my half sister, so her grandma, though I still consider her my own and my sister's dad, my stepdad) in many ways. Saying that the grand mother is very passive aggressive and snarky when they in fact are just the same way. They're very jaded people. Whenever they talk to her dad, it always escalates into some huge fight. Some fight that they always try to drag me into. But it always just seems like such a hassle so I ignore it, which bugs them to no end that I won't 'defend' them. Then whenever I talk to her dad, my step dad, they always assume that like them, I'm going to be super mad at him for something he said, when in reality, we just talk. We just have a nice friend chat like I would any other friend.

My family is very superficial. Going to absurd lengths to make sure they look good no matter where they go. Everything they have must be in style or in fashion. They must have the latest phones even when we might not have the money for it or have a need for it,  watch the latest shows that everyone else seems to be watching. All of the things in the house must look nice, not just clean, but nice, stylish.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a slob. I think things need to be clean too, but function comes above everything else. My mom likes to throw things away or get rid of them when they fall out of order with things. She wanted to get rid of the couch we have because it didn't look nice anymore and spend an extra 300 dollars getting a new one when we didn't have the money to get it. The couch is soft, you can sleep and sit on it, it did everything a couch is supposed to do. I had to adamantly argue with her to get her to back down.

The thing that stands out the most to me however is something that really shook me. Her and my sister were talking one day, and I was in the same room listening in. They were talking about somebody new that my sister had met somewhere, my older sister. They talked about how annoying of a person he was. She described him and my mom laughed saying how she hated people like that. She couldn't stand them. Why does this matter? Well, the person my sister described was someone who sounded a lot like me. I even asked about it.

I chimed in with how I'm just like that person they described and they just said, "No you're not." When I pushed on and asked how I was different, their answer was that "I just was". I kept on saying that they just described me, but they didn't want to admit to it. In the end, they got frustrated and told me to shut up, but it made me realize that they only 'love' me out of obligation. If they were to ever meet me as a stranger, they'd hate me. They only accept me because I am their family.

My family doesn't know me at all. They don't know anything major in my life that is. Sure, they could tell me what my favorite foods are and when my birthday is, but if I ever asked them anything major about myself, they wouldn't know the first thing about who I am. I on the other hand, could tell them everything about themselves. They tell me everything because they know I won't say anything and they might need advice, but in the end, I'm just a counselor to them.

I'm nothing but an investment to them. I'm a slave to their own desires. I'm the one who watches my little brother, granted, it should be some sort of an obligation to watch him since he is kin. I'm the one who must always keep the house clean and in order. I have to keep my little sister in line (though that doesn't work since she's still a little hoe that gets in trouble constantly over stupid things). I have to go to college so that I can one day get a good job and get paid well so I can support the rest of the family. That is something that's been hammered into my head since my family found out I was 'smart'. I was going to have to go to college so I could make enough money to help take care of everyone. I was going to have to get married and have kids so that I could pass on the family name and so my parents could be grandparents. Then soon after, probably die 'happy'. The American Dream right?

My plans are different though, maybe a bit naive, but they're different. I don't want to go to college like everyone says. I want to go out and do stand up comedy. That is my dream. I want to go out and labor and make money and travel. I don't want to stay out in the same place. I don't want to have kids. Now that I have this car, I'm going to work my ass off and save up money. Then I'm going to disappear. I'm not going to tell anyone, I'm just going to leave this jaded town and all it's people and leave my family. Let them disown me, I don't care. I was never able to rely on them for much more than a roof, food, water, and a little bit of clothes. For a good portion of my life, all of those things weren't even guaranteed.

I will be free. I swear on my life.

Update

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Bachelor/Bachelorette Party

As I said a couple posts back, I was going to tell you of my uncle's and my aunt's bachelor parties. I got to see them last year. It was the first time in many years before I got to see them. They live over in Hawaii (along with everyone else in my family) whereas  I live in Michigan. It's really expensive to go and see family and we're not the most wealthy people on the block so we don't get to go back. Luckily enough, they saved up enough money to come over here to watch me graduate.

So while they were over here, we spent a lot of time together, and told stories about our lives. The story that stood out the most to me though were their stories about their bachelor and bachelorette parties.

My uncle told me about his first. He said that his was a huge party with friends. He talked about how they ate a couple hundred burgers and hot dogs throughout the whole day, went down to the beach, surfed and swam (I mean, it's Hawaii after all), fucked around, and drank a lot. One of the most pertinent things he talked about was just the sheer volume of drink they had.

Apparently nobody fell asleep willingly. Everyone passed out. There were three people crammed into a tiny bathroom, people on the floor, people in the kitchen, but everyone for the most part was inside. The other odd thing was that even though there were THREE beds, not one of them was used. Nobody thought to use any of the beds.

Everyone had fun but when they woke up...there was something wrong. Nothing was broken so it wasn't something expensive. Everyone was alive and breathing and nobody appeared hurt, so it wasn't a medical thing. Then they decided to do a head count and one of their friends was missing. It was a real life version of the Hangover.

They're in a forested area, but it's also suburban so they were worried a number of things could've happened. They were worried he could've gotten lost in the woods, fell down and hit his head. He could've broke into a house thinking it was his. They were freaking out.

The looked around everywhere. They all spread out before even eating breakfast. Dispersing through the woods, they cruised around the neighborhood, asked neighbors. Nobody had seen him. They checked outward going farther and farther until they had to give up.

They got home and they were going to call the police when they got home. Then they noticed something that they didn't notice before. There was a big blue tarp in the backyard. One of them tripped over it and a voice came out from it. They kicked it and the guys voice came out wondering what the hell was going on.

It appeared that just like in The Hangover, the guy was closer to home than they though. Apparently, he felt that the tarp was a really warm, dry, place to sleep and so rolled up inside of it like a sleeping bag. Everyone was pissed at him, but relieved.

Then there was my aunt's bachelorette party. She seemed a bit hesitant to tell everything what happened, but she did tell me about one thing. The penis cake. Do you see how this ties into the story from the other day? I told that girl about it, she had a hankering for penis cake. Or maybe penis. Or maybe just cake. Who knows.

Anyway, apparently this cake was a work of perverse art. It wasn't just a regular sized cake, it was a sheet cake bigger than any phallus could ever be. The head of the dick was made out of Rice Krispy to give it a nice crunch. There was LOTS of frosting on the inside, especially in the middle. Seemed appropriate. The veins were constructed using twizzlers. The taint was created by dyeing very thin pasta black and put by the base.

She described the cake as being truly befitting of the phrase 'one eyed monster'. She added only one woman was brave enough to take a slice. I was appalled that they would've let that much cake be wasted. If nobody else was going to eat it, I would've definitely taken a piece, regardless of it's genitalia related features*. Maybe that's just me though. What about you all? Would you have taken a piece regardless?


*No Homo.

1000+ Views

I actually bothered to check my pageviews and such, and apparently I have had over one thousand views (a good milestone) since last month and didn't even know it. Thank you all to keeping up with this and reading and supporting me. It's been nice being able to write with at least somewhat of a purpose. I've been using this to write down material for stand up comedy, and everybody knows that if you can get the approval of strangers on the internet, that means you will succeed in life.

Thanks again~! Here's looking forward to another 1000!

Stabbing

This might seem a bit dark, but I figured all kinds of humor are appreciated, especially as I watched Norm McDonald's standup last night. He talked about death for a half hour and had me cracking up the whole time, so I figured I'd talk about this.

About two years ago, here in Michigan, there was this woman who, for whatever reason, snapped. She just snapped and lost it and stabbed her baby. She stabbed her baby twelve times. Now, I know this might seem a bit unusual to talk about, especially on a blog that is usually about humorous stories. For the record, I do not condone or promote baby stabbing. If an ad pops up that says, "Do you want to stab a baby? Click here!" I did not condone that at all, it's all randomized.

Anyway, this woman attempted to kill her baby by stabbing it twelve times. If you did not find what was wrong in that sentence, let me retype it and make it more obvious. This woman ATTEMPTED to kill her baby by stabbing it TWELVE times. Now, again, while I do not enjoy the fact a baby was stabbed at all, the fact that this woman was a failure at killing a defenseless infant...is rather sad. Most people focused on the sadness of it; my mind went, "Wow, what a loser. She sucks at killing things".

Some people might think at this point, "well, the baby has got to be crippled or something. There's no way it'll live a normal life now." Well, except for the trauma of being stabbed by your own mother and the scars, she was due to make a FULL recovery. Which really rings the question, did this baby have eighty guardian angels or is this woman that stupid?

And I know, I know, when she gets into jail, someone at some point is going to ask, "hey, what're you in for?"

"...Attempted murder."

In which case the inmate might think, 'oh shit, this bitch be hardcore yo', but then most likely follow it up with, "who'd you try to kill? Ex-husband that was cheating on you?"

"Nah, my baby. Stabbed the thing twelve times. Thought that would've worked" and you know if that ever comes to light, she's on the bottom of the pecking order. Just for harming a childhood and doing something so terrible, and failing to get the job done, she's bottom bitch.

I know this was quite a dark post, but I decided to throw that down anyway. At least it's not the usual wall of text!

In some lighthearted news, I'm finally going to get a car in a bit, going to come into a bit of a winfall of cash, and I'm going out on a date with this girl I've liked for a bit. Looks like things are going well...for now.

Sex Shop

Here's a story that just happened today! Fresh! New! Hip! Trendy! ETC! Anyway, this just happened today, so it's fresh in my mind. Ironically, it probably won't be as long as my other usual stories, so...here goes.

Just like a lot of my other stories, I gotta provide a bit of background. So I've been hangin' out with this girl lately, she is a potentially datable girl, but who knows, we'll see. So this girl and I were hanging out one day, and I was telling her about my uncle and my aunt's respective bachelor and bachelorette parties (spoiler alert: That's going to be tomorrow's entry). My aunt's party involved a penis cake, I won't go into detail now, but let's just say the penis cake was rather...extravagant.

So this girl and I were talking about how when we hook up next, we should bake a penis cake. I thought it was a joke, but this was seriousness. We were going to go out, buy the mold, bake it, fill the middle with 'cream' and chow down. I really hope she didn't think I was gay when I agreed to this.

So there's a sex shop, but relative to where I live, it's a far ways away by bike. I don't have a car (yet), and she isn't old enough to go into the shop (She's 17, I'm 19. Just thought I'd throw that one out there). So I decided to ask my friend if I could borrow his car to go up there. This is mostly cause he doesn't get to use his car because he doesn't have his license. I have mine, but no car. I'll drive him places, I'll borrow the car from time to time, it works.

On a side note, my friend is gay. Quite gay. In case you're getting the wrong idea, I got nothing against those of the homosex. However, strolling into the sex shop together with someone who is quite gay got me a few weird glances.

I'm assuming at first, most people didn't want to assume anything, maybe we were just lookin' for some gag gifts or something. Maybe we both were going to get some porn. But without thinking about it, we both strolled over to the women's section of the store immediately and started to look at the dick shaped things. Bypassed everything, but just went to the dick section. When I go to buy anything, I like to go in, get what I need, and get out...which that last sentence seems a bit ironic thinking about where I was...

While we were looking, I found something that I found particularly humorous. There were a wall of various dildos. Although I did not stop and linger, I did glance at them. The thing I found weirdly funny was that the white dildo, 8' long. Brown dildo, 8½' long. The black dildo was 6' long. Now, I wouldn't know personally, but according to stereotypes, there was something quite inaccurate about that. I started cracking up very loudly in the middle of store, probably a bit ridiculously, and more eyes turned to look at the weird brown kid with his gay friend laughing at dildos.

Then I saw the price of the penis mold. Twenty dollars. Twenty dollars just so someone can bake a dick shaped cake. After that, I serious'd the fuck up. I called up my girly friend.

"Hey, bad news, I can't get the penis cake"

"Awww, why not?"

"It's twenty dollars. I only brought fifteen"

I figured telling her I was short money would bypass the, "I'm cheap and don't wanna pay twenty dollars for penis cake mold" and then her impending, "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaase buy it" thing that would be inevitable.

Oh well, if she wants penis, she knows  where she can find one haha.