OMG! Girls Night!~

The names in this story have been changed to protect the innocent.

After a magical day of Science at the Ontario Science Centre (sidebar: The spy exhibit was so LAME.. I was pretty pumped to see it but it paled in comparison to the “Lizards and Snakes: ALIVE” exhibit) I found myself invited to a small gathering of sorts at a friend’s place. I knew I was going to have to drive that night so I wouldn’t be getting too crazy, I thought I’ll get a bit zooted chill and just hang out. When I arrived at my friend Michelle’s house I found myself trapped in a “Girls Night”.

Aside

I was once told that if there is only one male and multiple females in a group that the male gets cancelled out and the conversation will be turned to more feminine subjects (let me give you a run down of some of the topics that may be covered, no particular order: 1) Boys are...[hot, dumb, jerks, dicks, etc] 2) High school drama caused by boys 3) High school drama caused by other girls 3) High school (in general) 4) Female masturbation (personal favourite) 5) Careers and life goals 6) Bitching about other girls 7) Boobs and vaginas (second favourite) 8) Various stereotypical girl-talk subjects (clothes, make up, celebrity stuff, etc)

Ok back to my night.. I arrived at the establishment with another female friend of mine, Jessica, and we go to the backyard to discover that waiting back there is yet another female friend, Ashley. At this point I knew something was up and that I was in for an adventure of the mind. I’ve always wondered what females do when they get together and how they hang out in comparison to how us males hang (spoiler alert: girls are Lamesville). Anyways, I’m now sitting there with these three females as they drink and talk, nothing major yet just general chit chat. So I’m thinking “Cool, I can deal with this just hanging out here dicing it up with some ladies. Maybe I’ll gain some valuable information that I can use during the courting process”. After about an hour or so I decide to indulge in some fine smokables and relax myself. Now I’m not sure if it was the greenery or what, but after this the conversation got DEEP, and I don’t know about you guys but summer time is NOT the time for deep conversations; it’s too hot. All kinds of emotional high school experiences and rumours were being brought up. Ranging from confronting a girl and telling her you want to ‘double click her mouse’ (which is a term I’ve only heard once and it was in American Pie) to emotional scars left by former friends and boyfriends. As this was transpiring I was trying to practice the ancient Chinese art of invisibility of the third eye. The basic principle behind this is if you do not engage the recipient’s third eye, which is the eye into the soul, they will not be able to see you with their eyes of the mind. I am going to skip all the details of the conversation because frankly my mind doesn’t have the capacity to carry around reams and reams of irrelevant information. I was actually in awe that they could recall all of these events and even hear say so vividly like it didn’t happen 4-8 years ago. It is leading me to believe that females have a separate brain for storing all this information.

Let me say right now that I just cruised through high school and never looked back. When I was there I just had my metaphorical blinders on, went to and from school did my homework, played some vball and that was that. After I left I forgot ALL about it, I might have 1-3 memories from each grade, which is fine with me because I enjoy life as it’s happening. At one point during the night, in reference to the high school drama conversation, Ashley turned to me and said “You didn’t know about any of these things? I thought it was blatantly obvious in the hall ways”. Which got me thinking, although we were in the same building we were galaxies apart in high school. It’s not that you don’t care what the other people are doing, these are the kids you used to play with in elementary school. It’s beyond that, once you get to high school they are so far away from you now you barely know they exist.

Don’t get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed my night, but it was more from a researcher’s perspective than anything else, like observing single cell organisms multiplying through a microscope. Which was quite fitting considering I was at the Science Centre earlier on in the day.

What should you take away from my experience? Girl teenagers are even dumber than boy teenagers. And contrary to popular belief girls do not just want to have fun, they just want to talk.

For our female readers, I suggest you take notes, a "Guys Night" consists of: 1) Beer 2) Video Games 3) Food 4) A Movie (optional)

Booty Juice

You guys are incredibly indecisive. I think the poll was rigged, just like how Ahmadinejad did it a few weeks ago.

It has dawned on me recently that I'm really fucking good at flipping burgers. My how they sizzle, my how we have not aged gracefully, my how nothing really gets me going the same way finding things I'm never going to buy on craigslist does...

What do you guys do to stave off boredom?

Do you dance, listen to music, read, fuck, burp the gecko?

We're going to be really famous one day. And you'll have tributes for us at Yonge-Dundas square when we die collectively in a ball of flaming jet fuel on our world famous blog signing tour.

What did you dream about last night? Did you fly? Did you run away from your fears? Did you make new friends? Did you kiss her?

I hope you're outside playing hopscotch and not reading this blog it's summer outside, go have fun. Go slay dragons and win some Grand Prix . Unless you live in Greenland or Antarctica, then you're allowed to do whatever you want. Not like the polar police are gonna come and stop you.

May 14th 2009. I lost my staple remover at work. I didn’t go to the supply lady and request a new one. I didn’t even steal one, although I have in the past. I sat at my desk and started removing staples with my bare hands, because sometimes life gets real like that. So if you don’t want life getting too real on you right now close the webpage and read yourself a bedtime story with a side order of nightquil.

How much money does one person need? It’s an honest question I know the answer varies per person, but lets be arrogant and pompous and try to group all of humanity together, and lets be even more arrogant and pompous and probably a bit phesicious and determine where the line for necessity and greed is drawn. Let’s decide an amount that should make people comfortable and happy. I don’t think you have to be rich. Millions of dollars a year is clearly too much. But I think 35 000 a year is too low, you can live off it sure, but that’s not the goal of this, we want an amount that will make you comfortable enough so that you can splurge a bit.

I haven’t been able to have a nice wake up in what feels like weeks. Waking up might very well be the most important part of the day, it sets the tone for everything. And for the last little while I’ve had this old woman who has the audacity to refer to herself as my mother barge into my connected yet independent living quarters to squack me awake. I say squack because when someone is rudely awakening you squacking if all that is heard. Although I do recall some English words being spoken…something to the tune of “When are you going to work?” “How long are you going to sleep?” “What’s 192 multiplied by 3 divided by 2.” I’m like for fack sakes damnit, why are you asking me skill testing questions at 9:00am. I don’t remember entering any sweepstakes. So after this type of treatment I have grown hard and cold to the ways of humanity. The old Handstyle is gone, and in his loving dancing and devilishly handsome place remains a devilish handsome cynical brute who hates teenagers and greasy food. Who will save my soul? I feel like that has rotten away long ago, or hiding in a deep cave the kind that you need to go underwater to get too. That’s right, the coolest kind. But a part of me knows I just need two days of waking up on my own time.

Back in present time I can say I feel much more welcoming now. I did receive those two days of recuperation and am much better for it.

Now lets talk about the poll results. Fuddled at best it what I would use to describe them. But I guess that means we should just continue talking about everything, except I don’t think anyone here has written much about the economy and if we I would think you a fool should you read it. Although I did get an A in both micro and macro introductory economics, so I guess that makes me the resident expert here.

Check back often for news, adventure and puppy dragons, once you eat one you’ll never go back to Chinese food again!

The Rider: Prologue

No one ever makes it out of Tent City. The rich and the poor stay there forever like a deep scar and the unpleasant sight of the wound is hidden away by the harbour. It's surrounded by an infection of prostitutes and store fronts that, apart from the liquor, gun stores and strippers, rarely sell what they advertise. The sidewalks are cracked and filled in with the runoff from day to day life downtown and after changing seasons the grime cakes into a dingy green hue. Tent City is carved out deep enough that it forms a valley between two large overpasses making a suitable habitat for an entire community of shabby tents and useless trash. While the verdant views of the lake are above the cliffs of highway and available only to those living in the towering condominiums. Anyone around Tent city would seem bemused to find a reason or way out. As I said before the rich and the poor alike stay there forever. They all stay, even the rider, with all he can accomplish, stays.

One day Ram and Padden thought it would be funny if they pissed on Pamp's bed. Pamps was an average looking guy. The kind of guy you wouldn't assume was homeless but could definitely notice he had little to offer. Ram and Padden were a couple of scumbags even for the standards of Tent City those two losers embodied the nature of everything moldy and pathetic. They thought by the time Pamps got back from riding, his bed, which was made out of diapers, would swell to twice the size. Till this day that prank sounded fucking hilarious to those two clowns but Pamps didn't find it funny. Actually no one knows how he took it. When those two scampered out of their holes to laugh at him he just said "clean it up" with no expression on his face. Of course they got right to it, partly because they were cowards, and there was something deep in pamp's eyes that demanded respect like when your principal calls you into the office or your mom ask you where her change went. They started tearing up a double sized bed of Pamper brand diapers that had been duct tape together into equally sized rectangles. The two scientist of this experiment proved their initial hypothesis by doubling the size of the bed but like the young researcher looking for the key ingredient in a mud pie I'm sure they didn't anticipate having to clean up their own mess. There was no new set of rules in Tent City the mores that defined an idiot held true in the underworld, Ram and Padden were certainly idiots.

Growing up you thought everyone was outstanding at there job. You thought the bus driver, and the teachers, and the the entertainers were all perfect for their positions. It takes a long time to understand people are just people and if it wasn't Pamps anyone could be the rider.

We're Assholes And You Love It

What is it about bloggers that makes us so pretentious? Seriously, who do we think we are? Why do we write with this air of cynicism wrapped in a wispy layer of self entitlement? There are only two kind of bloggers. Arrogant assholes who really believe their words are of a divine nature, and the dude next door type blogger, every bodies best friend look what I did yesterday, I am so cool sometimes. They say sometimes so they don’t seem pretentious. How pretentious of them. I openly admit I am of the first kind. Which is fine by me, because at least I’m not underground pretentious, and I’m happy to say I don’t think anyone who writes for this underground GEM of a blog does either. Let’s look at the list.

We have Kid Vincent – his posts ooze with the confidence of a male Grizzley Bear in it’s natural habitat. Ranging from music to crazy stories, so trendy it hurts the Kid knows what he’s doing. He even throws out some emo poetry every once in a while, it’s no wonder the girls swoon for him. The only thing really going against him is his teenage age. Yes, it's something he can't help, but it's a shame he must carry around with him until the fateful day he turns 20.

Jamesforlife may be the most pretentious of us all. If you remember the early days of his iPhone video link, what would make him think people want to watch him walking home from school. But they did.

You see that’s the thing, the bloggers may be presumptuous and pompous but they’re not giving you anything you aren’t asking for. And if you aren’t asking for it, it is only because you don’t know you want it yet.

We also have Rusi, he weaves his tales around the electronic universe with seemingly absolute disregard for linear storytelling. A true master of grammar, if you do not wish you were one of the fantastic characters he creates it is probably because you have lost all faith in the world and are a cold charcoal block inside.

But who isn’t in these days of hard economic times? Rusi knows what he is writing is the truth and if you don’t get it then it’s not for you so fuck you. You have to admire that type of reckless abandon that the internet has fostered in many youth. Unfortunately it usually takes the format of an annoying counter strike playing thirteen year old. It is only after you watch Rusi at work that you can appreciate the scope of this drastic change and realize what it means. Nobody can tell me nothing because I can look it up on the internet.

Why am I lecturing you on the state of the bloggers on this site, and par extension the world? Because I felt it needed to be done. As you were.

The Rider: Introduction

There is very little unknown about Bent Handstyle today. Presently, he is a superstar. Astronomically, he is nothing like a superstar, which burns massive amounts of energy at its brightest point then dies. Rather, Bent Handstyle has found a way to add more propellant to an already stellar career. Those with less nerve may caution against all the attention. Insinuating that nothing can last forever. These feelings are simply both a shame and a fault within weak humans being. Furthermore, that trend of thinking reveals how absolved some people can feel when they read Bent's material. If you were truly engaged you could understand that Bent's work is timeless like the expansion of the universe and still necessary like the collapse of a star, bringing forth a new solar system.

Bent spent most of his life in the lower east side of the city. It was an area rich in style and culture but more importantly the community was aware. I believe it is safe to say without his background we would never get the true grit shown in The Rider. What Bent does is provide us with an unapologetic blast of realism and after such an attack we should be left dumbfounded. But that is when the true genius of The Rider comes through. Instead of being left out in an unknown world Bent attempts, successfully, to reel us back to our sheltered lives. But the question is who wants to live there now.

The Rider, a short commentary first posted here on cmogenius, is no less necessary than other classics like The True Story of Mr. Laptop., and Ramblings Of A Sleepless Night. Actually I would go as far as to say The Rider stands on its own. Seeming similar to casual readers, but defiant in its execution to those well learned in Bent's work. If there needs to be a concern it should be that we only get a sample from him.

Getting Juicy

Oftentimes I'll sit in my parking lot.
I idle my car with the shift set to reverse.
I plug my iPod into my stereo and listen to french house. LOUD.
I stare in the rear view mirror.



When people walk on my little piece of sidewalk I run them over.
I kill them.


I've got a pretty good pile going these days. Strangely the police haven't said anything yet.
Sorry.... Did I say my driveway? I meant I hijack stranger's cars and run people over....


Yeah I know... "Kid Vincent, you're fucked!!!"
Grow a pair.


How do you feel about men drinking coolers? Does it really make them cool, as the name implies? Vex? Woody's? Rockstar Vodka? What if a lumberjack was drinking a cooler at a house party? Would you go up to him and say, "Hello fine gentleman, that's quite the feminine beverage you're consuming there."

He would most likely respond saying there is no such thing as a feminine beverage as no inanimate object contains any gender identifying properties, and that the concept of a feminine beverage is simply a construct of phallic male-dominant society.

It's inevitable that he would then proceed to compartmentalize you into smaller more conveniently bite sized pieces with his bare hands.

YOU DON'T WANT THAT.

On a scale of one to ten how into lukewarm beverages are you? (all femininity of the said beverage aside)
Regular temperature water is the shit. Allegedy ice cold water is bad for your singing voice.
So all you Ben Gibbards out there had better throw out all your ice cubes or risk tarnishing your indie vocalist career for the rest time.

Try and picture forever. I dare you not to throw up.

Teenagers? A Change Of Heart?

So the votes are in. Much to the chagrin of my fellow writer Vincent I am sure, it seems that in general people do believe teenagers are not worth their weight in gold. Much less in fact I presume, as I would easily trade off several teenagers for a McDonald's cheeseburger hold the cheese. Oh you don't know about the hold the cheese trick? I'll clue you in later, only because you believe teenagers should indeed be face trounced.

However, this is not the whole story as a second option, "Teenagers have mothers who love them" finished with the same amount of votes as my face trouncing option. Is a change of heart in order? Should I rescind my teenager hating ways because after it is all done we all have mothers who love us? Perhaps, I'm not so stubborn that I wouldn't give them a second chance, but HOLD ON! That's what they want isn't it? For us to let our guard down for a second, it won't take long for them to take advantage, they are able to do so many things so quickly with their free time and technology. No my friends, I for one will not turn my back on a teenager for fear of being shanked like a latino gangster in a shady detroit nightclub. I'll leave you to make your own decisions, but if there is one thing everyone should do...it's the hold the cheese trick.

The hold the cheese trick is a very very priviledged piece of information. I was able to obtain it whilst at HighSchool. I'm not sure how many McDonalds this works for or any other fast food chains, but I do know it works for at least one.

Basically it works like this, roll up to your nearest McDonalds' drivethru. Once there proceed to ask for a,

"Cheeseburger, hold the cheese."

They will try to dissuade you, "A Hamburger?" They will ask.

Decline the offer of a Hamburger, "No, a cheeseburger, hold the cheese."

"Want fries with that?"

"No, a cheeseburger, hold the cheese?"

See, you must always say the entire phrase. It's tough to pull off correctly. Someone might entice you to an apple pie, or a soft drink, but you must decline everything. Otherwise they will not bring you the real goods, and you definitely will not be admitted inside.

Before I continue here are some notes to ensure success. When asking for the cheeseburger without cheese, you musn't do just that. You can't change the phrase, it's been around since the dark ages and it's not about to change now.

"Cheeseburger, hold the cheese." Got it? Good. Next, when asking for this cheeseburger lower your voice and pretend like you have honey coated in your throat. That's right, you have to sound sly and very shady, speaking just above a whisper should be your approximate decibel goal. This is so they don't think you are a retard and just bring you a hamburger which is definitely NOT what you want. What do you want? Heh, the goods baby. You want the gooooods. And if you follow these steps correctly you're going to get them.

Happy hunting, I know some of you will be rewarded with so many goods, others will not, I once was with someone trying to get some goods, he requested a poutin hold the cheese and all we got was gravy fries, remember its a cheeseburger. You probably won't get any goods your first try, because they won't trust you sounding all sketch and everything, but the sketchy voice WILL help you get more goods on future trips. Hopefully you'll come back here and entice us all with what goods you got. Finally after you have most of the goods... well no, that's too much information.

My Girlfriend's Better Than Your Girlfriend

Seriously.

She runs like a ninja.

She owns the Star Wars double trilogy (all six films).

She has strong alcoholic tendencies.

She has an accent.

She pronounces clothes, clowths.

Did I mention she runs like a ninja? Yea, that's not a joke.

She once promised to braid me the smallest braid.

She knows how to find the big dipper and other constellations.

She can name different horse breeds by the sound of their neigh.

She said black people remind her of cats because they don't like swimming.

She holds the all time high jump record at her high school.

She can summon lightning storms by throwing a flask filled of special chemicals she discovered into the sky.

She memorized Pi to 150 decimals and decided to memorize the periodic table of elements while she was at it.

She reads comic books that I haven't heard of.

She built her own hut and tamed wild animals there for a year.

She's pretty alright.

Guess what.

I would do ANYTHING to go into outer space.

ANYTHING.