A tool grows in Brooklyn

My roommate is phail. He's in our business school, and he's a complete and utter tool.
To add insult to injury, he is the least self-aware person I know.

I realize this every afternoon when I get back from class. He listens to über-ghetto, hardcore rap that he knows less than half the words of... and tries to sing along in his tone-deaf, milk-toast white voice.

Note: He's an extreme conversative. I.e. He's a minority-hating, baby-killing, ghetto-abhoring, poverty-indifferent toolbox who speaks in ebonics and literally calls himself "gangsta'."

Skin-check.


P.s. Rainman and I have begun speaking again. While still awkward, I think it's slowly on the road to recovery. Ever so slowly.

So cute

This is my new feel-good video of the month. It's so cute - I can't even get over it. Whenever I am down, I shall simply watch this and feel infinitely better :D



I feel like Ellen would either be an awesome human being to know... or she'd be a raging bitch. I'm almost sure it's the latter; no one can be that nice and funny all the time.

Summer prospects = 0

So I didn't get the Student Adviser position... nor did I get the Undergraduate Coordinator of Programs gig. And it sucks.

I had been banking so heavily on getting at least one of the two, especially the second. I always thought that they were looking for bubbly, personable people for those jobs. Apparently... they weren't?

Eh - I am in feels-like-worthless-crap phase at the moment, which isn't awesome at all. Thank God I don't have to apply for jobs in this market (like my Senior friends - poor guys). I don't think I could handle getting turned down by potential employers as often as I'm sure it happens. That would just... kill me.

Ugh.



Tonight, my friends are doing what they do best: consoling. And by consoling, I mean they are bringing over "refreshments" for us to consume. God damn it, I'm turning this frown upside down, albeit with a little liquid-happy.

Like taking a bullet

I am working on a revision for a paper on a book I haven't opened since early last semester (early Octoberish). Little did I know that a certain someone had slipped a note into said book for me to find later that day.
Unfortunately, I never found it... until today. I opened the book, and there it was.

I really was like taking a bullet in the stomach. I legitimately sat down onto the ground and just stared at it. It's amazing how such a cute and loving gesture can, only a few months later, cause such pain.

Fuck.

P.s. Valentine's Day was really good - Wren enjoyed the movie+dinner, and it was very cute. I kind of wish I hadn't overshadowed yesterday with today, though.

These are my confessions

Today, Wren and I are going to see Confessions of a Shopaholic. On the surface, looks like a deliciously bad movie that makes you happy because... it's so bad. We'll also probably be the only men in there other than the straight ones who get dragged there by their girlfriends.

I order you all to see it as well so that you can come back here and tell me what you thought about it. We'll make it a race.

Extra points to whoever spots Isla Fisher's camel-toe first!

Update on the Rainman thing. It's dull and depressing - don't read it!

You bitch! You fucking opened the can of worms! Well I hope you're sitting down because (as Kathy would say), we got a lot of shit to cover:

So I got a number of very good emails from him yesterday - all of which insulting to the nth degree. He was kind enough to clarify a few things for me:

• When he said I was emotionally undeveloped, he meant that I could never understand, and that I am not emotionally capable of loving someone without cheating on him (ouch).


• When he said he was angry at Wren, not me, he meant that I wasn't to blame because he expected such a thing from a whore like me.


• When he said he expected it from me, he meant that he thinks all I ever care about is getting an orgasm wherever and whenever I can.

You can't make this shit up - you want the emails? I think I'll post them later today or tomorrow. These are... priceless.

I sent him back a quick email in return. I don't know where the old Rainman went, but this is not him. The old Rainman would never say such things to anyone, let alone someone he purports to still love. He chastised me about blocking him on facebook, etc... but really, how couldn't I?

I don't want to know this new Rainman - he scares me. He's taken over. I don't like him. And I will never want this new "thing" back. When old Rainman inhabits his body again, then we'll talk.

Now we're in a Cold War similar to Wren-versus-Rainman's. I refuse to speak to him first. Given the things he said to me, I think an apology is in order first. Until then, I will not speak to him.

If my mother taught me anything, it's bitchiness. She never spoke first after we fought, and I will do the same. I will not budge on this. Not after what he said.

Rainman goes insane

Apparently, Rainman reads my blog(s). He doesn't like the content. He sends angry texts. How about a snippet, yes, in response to my blog posting:

You're a complete idiot and clearly didn't listen to anything I said to you the other night. Don't bother coming over tonight.

I get this while I'm freaking out in a midterm. Awesome. So I text him back for context, argue a little, and then call him. He proceeds to lay these little gems on me:

"You know, it's a matter of class" (which I apparently don't have), "I wasn't mad at you - I expected this of you... if you were 'emotionally developed' you would have known better," and "I don't want either of you coming over ever anyway."

So that's it. This man, who I still love, and who has always been the rational, calm, selfless center to my life... has lost his mind. He's driven over the deep end. He's gone insane.

I would expect such a reaction out of me - I'm ridiculously impetuous and irrational. But I never though that Rainman would ever show himself to be, dare I say it... selfish.

Ugh - why do the ones I actually want in my life turn out to be such divas.


I pulled him off my facebook, AIM list, contact list, etc. I don't want to bother him anymore if he's going to insult me.

Really, I'm kind of getting ready to cry into a pint of ice cream in my room for a while. The things he said... I don't know what I'm going to do.

Apparently Twitch hasn't seen this side of Rainman. Someone better warn him.

Fightin' over little ol' me?

Actually, the title of this blog is a complete misnomer. To assume that these two people are fighting over me gives me just a bit too much credit - even I'm not that self-involved. And trust me... I'm pretty bad at that. I have 250 people that read about the minute details of my life daily, after all.

*Ego swells with blood*

Anyway, I didn't know it, but when Rainman said he's pissed that Wren for starting to date me... he actually meant it. He legitimately was/is/will be pissed about this for a while. I didn't find out about it until I saw the text conversation between them - there were some pretty vicious words flying around.

Not lady gay-like language, at all.

On the one hand, I totally get it. It is a little weird because Wren and Rainman have been friends for a while; we all met at a capture-the-flag/fag game a year ago right when Rainman and I first started dating. On the other hand, I didn't know that Rainman's "restrictions" were actually serious. By now he's forbidden me from getting with any of his gay friends or acquaintances, which pretty much leaves me with the World of Warcraft-gays, the slobby disgusting pseudo-straight gays, and women.

I'm sure he'll forgive Wren eventually; I don't even think Rainman's "beef" is with me. By that same token, had I known that he would get this upset, I probably would have avoided anything with Wren. (That's a total lie - Wren is conversational and funny as hell... my two weaknesses).

For this moment, at least, I'm going to let my imagination get the best of me. In fact, I'm going to indulge in it.

In my mind, they are having an honor fight in my name. I hope it turns into a fight to the death. Nothing like seeing a skinny white boy from Connecticut battle it out with an even skinnier Mexican boy from El Paso.

JOLENE!

100th post + celebration!

It's only fitting that the 100th post celebration be of the same spirit as some news I have to share - happy, but not completely consequential (just yet).

It seems that I have, finally, made it through a hundred meaningless, unimportant, but somewhat interesting snippets from my life. You are now a hundred-times more aware of the subtleties of my life. Those 252 active visitors that read this blog from as far away as Saudi Arabia and Sudan are now that much more enriched with my gaiety.

Maybe those are poor closeted gays, looking to express themselves through the blogs they read... maybe it's just the Saudi government keeping an eye on me just in case.
Anyway - now the news!

A few days ago, I finally asked Wren to go to Britney with me. For those that missed this point, I got Britney tickets for when she's in Boston on March 16. They were a gift for my birthday, and I have two... one for me, and one for a special friend.

I must say that it took forever to convince him to go. He felt bad about taking such a gift from me, and it was only when I reminded him that they had been a gift to me anyway that he decided to go. I can see it in his eyes. Like every gay, his heart burns for cheap divas that sing awesome music post-going-crazy-and-shaving-your-head-to-avoid-a-drug-test-during-custody-hearings.

Win.

This weekend, on V-Day, we're going to dinner and then seeing a commentary on the human condition as it relates to American consumerism.

It's a serious film for serious people, you see. Should be good and funny. Wow, and I thought I was going to spend V-Day getting drunk in my room and listening to Joni Mitchell.

Here's to fucking your brains out cute dinner-dates.

The right to remain silent

I have written on this before, perhaps, but I want to highlight it again: I can't stand when certain people talk to you. As I just got a haircut, the theme of my frustration is barbershops.

On the one hand, I get it. They must be lonely. Working all day, cutting people's hair. Plus, they probably assume that we, the customers, are looking for that fifteen minutes of riveting conversation with a stranger we probably won't remember in ten minutes.

On the other hand, I have definitely had the same barber three or four times in a row, and they ask the same questions every time. Conclusion? They aren't really listening - they are talking to fill gaps of blissful, otherwise wonderful silence.

Thankfully, I know who to get. The shop I go to has two barbers that I will work with and two I will not. I cleverly work my way around the two chatterboxes to get to these other two, less-known stylists.

They're both foreign, and they don't speak English. The way God intended it.

I wanna dance with somebody!

Feet... pain... hurt. Ouchie. Yesterday, my partner and I danced for eight straight hours.

I've been slowly realizing over the past year that I've been dancing with my partner that ballroom really is a sport. We say it is, but no one takes us seriously. Nights like this, however, really bring the idea home.
Ballroom is not a sprint; it's a fucking marathon. Eight hours of dance, and I came home with my lungs in my shoes. Dirt tired (however tired dirt is; no idea what that expression means).

Not only that, but it's also a contact sport. These bitches and their partners would sooner fist-fight you on the dance floor than let you get into their space. They push and shove, and someone invariably gets hit in the face with a "stray" hand.


They were playing excellent music last night, so my partner and I really got into the dance. Quicksteps were quick (too quick), and tangos were sexy. I don't know what "sexy" is with a woman, but if it's at all the same as with a penis man, then we were probably okay.


Saw Providence boy there too... it was delightfully awkward for pretty much the whole evening. I never wrote about why, but let's just say that an okay date turned into a fairly needy, long-distance post-date.

Maybe someday I'll recap it for you. Until then, however, I'm still imagining nothing ever happened there.

Boys' night-in

So yesterday, I had the most pleasantly awkward experience of my year.

Because of various drama and the need to see people, I held the usual Lost-watching party in my living room. Granted, I had never seen he show, and even now, I still don't understand what it's about. I think I'm a little late to the party on that one.

Anyway, the "guest list" was priceless. It was me, Rainman, Rainman's ex (Hoover), and a guy that I'm interested in (pseudonym forthcoming). To clarify, that's Rainman and his two ex-boyfriends sitting down to dinner/Lost with my current interest.

Awkward.

I think Rainman got upset partway through the night. This has been happening a lot; last week, when I went over to his place for the Superbowl, his new boytoy was there. Twitch, which is what I and everyone else call him, is the nice boy I wrote about before who I want to hate but can't.

Anyways, I got upset last week because they were cute together, and he got upset this week (I think). I think this is just how it's going to be for a while until one of us gets left again. (Let's hope it goes on forever, I suppose!).


Day update: Today, I have an interview for a position at my school to help with Orientation for new freshman next year. I want the job so badly; here's to hoping that I get it!

Thanks Adsense

I do not like Google Ads right now. They have been scanning my blog and came up with the following five titles when I looked just now:

• 2009 Cute Kid of the Year
  
• Make Out with Girls
  
• Fix Your Marriage
  
• Stumble
  
• Plus Size Intimate Wear

So apparently Google wisely reasoned that I'm an adorably fat heterosexual going through marital problems.

... half right.

Stumbled Upon, Part I

So I've been using StumbleUpon.com as my remedy to the disease that is productivity.

I am starting this new series to share with you some of the worst things that I've "stumbled upon" during the many hours I surf around the internet. I insist that you go to that website now and start falling around the internet, just like me.

Here we go - this seemed "appropriate" to start with:


How. Freaking. Disturbing.

I am so creeped out by that; as an Asian I can say this with documented evidence: Asian people are f'cking weird.

Why so sleepy?

So my schedule is essentially noon-classes. Every day... five days a week. Believe me; it's awesome. You should be insanely jealous.

For that reason, and because I'm a math major, I only ever sleep at 3AM. If that. So you can understand, having stayed up late drinking all the wine in the apartment, doing math HW, and listening to my "mood" playlist, why I'm so surprised to be awake at 9:20-ish in the morning.

I usually stumble out of bed at about 11:20AM and run to class. I might have a bagel today... and other such breakfast items. What a treat!

Unfortunately, I don't really know what to do with my time. In my head, homework is a 1AM activity. I might have to break my own rules here and... do it. *shiver* How scandalous.

I'll get over it.

Interchangeable "parts"

Today, I attended a Superbowl party with Rainman and his new beau. I feel like this new boy needs a name... some form of identification as I think he's going to be around for a while. Him and his twitch. Hey - that's his name.

(( Side note: I'm trying so hard to hate this kid right now, but he's so friendly, cute, and intelligent. He's someone I want to hate, but can't. Screw Twitch. ))

So yes - I was at the Superbowl thing today, and Twitch was there. I'm glad I told Rainman to invite him (which he probably would have anyway). It's finally become cemented in my mind that Twitch is perfect for Rainman, at least for now. It's adorable in fact.

When we arrived, they were baking a cake together. More about that in another post (it was disgusting). They were doing it together, and when I tried to help, Rainman shunned me, saying, "We got it already." When we were watching TV, I kept catching them patting or touching hands... the way we used to before.

Rainman has made it clear that Twitch is not replacing me. He's been ardent about it, declaring it with great fervor.

I get it, though - I know I've been replaced. I'm actually quite honored that I've been followed up by such a reputable and friendly person. He's very attractive and a good guy.

It's just... weird. I know, for example, that as I type this, they are probably in bed together. He's in my spot where I used to sleep. And that... sucks.

Oh well - I'm happy for him. And as I've said, I'm moving on and letting him do his thing. I've been retreated to the back burner now. I'm second class. I'm now just "the friend." Upstaged. Finished.


God, just take me out to pasture and shoot me.