Monday, January 30, 2006

Holy Shit.

That's right, the theme of this post will be "...Holy shit." Each bullet shall be preceded with the statement, "Holy shit....".

  • ...I could sure use a can of Milo.

    I was walking through the airport yesterday and I thought to myself, "Wow, I could sure go for a can of fuckin' Milo right now." Imagine my surprise when I turned around and saw THIS:

    For those of you not fortunate enough to grow up with milo, it's a crunchy chocolate powder that you add to milk, creating a tasty beverage. It's made in Australia, so maybe it was imprinted on my mind when I was living there at an early age, along with Vegemite. Anyway, I did some research and found out some interesting facts about Milo.

    Apparently, depending on where it's sold, the texture and composition of the powder is different. This makes Milo the most culturally flexible chocolate malt beverage on the planet (in my opinion). Furthermore, it is the "In and Out Burger" of malt beverages, because in Malaysia, if you know the Milo Lingo, you can get it served in different ways.

    ....such as "Milo Dinosaur" (a cup of milo with an extra spoonfull of powdered undissolved Milo added to it), "Milo Godzilla" (a cup of Milo with ice cream and/or whipped cream on top of it) and "Neslo" (combined with Nescafe powdered coffee).

    I always thought it unfortunate that Milo never picked up in the USA. My first son shall be named Milo.

  • ...this website is fuggin awesome.

    Many of you know I am fond of doing wookie calls. I think it started the summer before my senior year of college, when my cousin Mikey and I spent the better part of August laying on the couch, watching TV, drinking Coke, belching, and practicing Wookie calls. We also used to tell detailed, lurid stories about performing sex acts in Jimmy Stuart voices, which is guaranteed to get a laugh anywhere, especially with the following:

  • Making whistling noises before every "S" sound
  • Saying stuff like "pritt'ner" ("pretty near") like Grampa does, i,e. "Pritt'ner shit muh pants"
  • Pronounce "trespass" like "TRESS'pis"

    Anyway, I got an email from Mikey yesterday. The subject was simply, "Yes", and the body of the message contained this website.

    Good stuff.

  • ...I got annihilated this weekend.

    I know I write about goin' out a lot, but the truth is, I really don't get too trashed. I do drink a lot, but that's mainly because I'm hanging out for such a long time, like from 9pm to 7am or whatever. I don't like getting too horrendously lit up because I'll fall asleep on the train and ride it around for 4 hours like I did with Sam.

    So I will hesitate to say "Holy shit, I got annihilated this weekend" because it didn't result in my throwing up. That's not something I've been doing lately; not like Okinawa, where it was pretty much a Friday-Saturday custom.

    As we all know, sometimes when drinking, and I stress sometimes, there is a point where you know if you continue, you'll cross the line into sick land. Often times we don't see the line, because we're too busy seeing how many shots we can drink....but Saturday night was different. I had a moment of clarity, where I thought to myself, "Ok, this is it. One more and you're gonna jump off the cliff."

    So I stopped. Stopped everything. Stopped drinking, stopped talking, stopped moving. A few people have witnessed this first hand, but it's a new drunken personality for me. I just get really quiet and refuse to talk. At one point in the night, some girls we were with asked me what someone said, and I quietly responded, "tsuuyaku owari." which literally means, "Translating: Finished.." I was done interpreting, which did very little to endear me to the girls we were with, one of whom was mad at me anyway. Blammo, Paul gets drunk and fucks it up again.

    Getting quiet is a modification on my previous behavior, which was to simply disappear for the rest of the night and pursue side adventures. This was a step up from when I was much younger and less "controlled." A good example of this is when I was dancing ("vogue-ing" actually) with a local retarded dude named "Cake" at Brando's 21st birthday party. There are just some things that make you embarrassed to think about, even 9 years later.. Throwing up out of moving cabs was another one of my former stupid-pet-tricks, which I'm happy to have abandoned.

    Here here, I'll drink to sophisticated drunken behavior.

  • ...I work with freaks.

    I saw a Rubics cube sitting on my boss's desk, so I stood there and played with it for a little while. I'm not good at stuff like that - it would probably take me about 2 hours to complete just one side. Anyway, I got bored fucking around with it, went down stairs, and when I came back 15 minutes later, it looked like this:

    Yeah, I work with some real freaks.

  • ...I'm an asshole. aka I have some funny friends.

    While this goes without saying, I'd like to present you with an excerpt of an email from my good friend. We'll call him J. We studied in Japan together, and he bore witness to a lot of stupid things I did, and I him. Anywho, here's part of the reply I received from him today from an email I sent to him yesterday, subject: "Mongoloids."

    I'm gonna have to go with your "mongoloid" suggestion. I gather that you have a very low threshold for calling people "mongoloid" since you so viciously and gratuitously flung the label at me for simply not remebering that Mrs. Cleaver's name was "June." Come on, like, who's gonna remember that it was June unless he sat around watching way too many old Beaver reruns when he could have been doing something more productive like playing Punch Out. So given your microscopic requirements for labeling people with racial epithets, I feel somewhat justified in doing the same because a) I know you're not racist and b) it's a funny and interesting project and c)you're a big fat hairy mongoloid smegma fart.

    This was in response to what I wrote him, which was this:

    beaver's mother's name was june. june cleaver, you mongoloid.

    yeah, ive been calling everyone at work "mongoloid".for some reason i said it on friday and it was a huge hit. i said it to a few of my friends out in town and they thought it was pretty funny too, so it's the new buzzword. "you fuggin mongoloid." i think it started in okinawa, cuz we used to eat mongolian BBQ a lot, which we called mongoloid bbq. maybe you could try that out on your friends sometime. you could say, "hey, i know this restaurant with REALLY good mongoloid BBQ. you wanna go sometime?" and when they say, "you mean mongolian bbq?" you can say, "yeah thats what i said, mongoloid bbq." feigning stupidity is the cornerstone of most of my humor. while it's funny to you and whoever is in on the joke, most people find it pretty offensive. anyway, i decided that it would be cool to have a mongolian girlfriend, because before you introduced her to your friends you could say, "well, there are a lot of cultural differences, and i dont really understand what she says a lot of times, bein that she's a mongoloid. you know, they kinda talk funny. on the plus side, she's incredibly strong, tho a little tempermental and unpredictable. she likes rollerskating and icecream."

    I guess running around my workplace calling telling people to "stop acting like a mongoloid" may qualify me as a bit of a jerk, but a lot of people find jerk-like behavior really funny. I'm not sure how I got started on the mongoloid kick; I think it's cuz one of my office mates has a Japanese wife, and subsequently two half-Japanese kids. We were talking about his kids, and I think I told him that he should be happy that his children don't carry a lot of mongoloid features. After that, everything for the rest of the day was "mongoloid this" and "mongoloid that" and "shut up you stupid mongoloid."

    I'll leave you all with some lines from the classic film, Dusk till Dawn:


    Awww, it's just been a shitass day.
    Every inch of it hot and miserable.
    First off, Nadine at the Blue Chip
    got some sorta sick, so that Mongoloid
    boy of hers was workin' the grill.
    That fuckin' idiot don't know rat shit
    from Rice Krispies. I ate breakfast
    at nine, was pukin' up pigs in a
    blanket like a sick dog by ten

    Isn't there a law or something
    against retards serving food to the

    Well, if there ain't there sure oughta
    be. Who knows what goes on inside
    Mongoloid's mind?

    You could sue the shit out of her, ya
    know. That kid belongs under a circus
    tent, not flippin' burgers. You could
    own that fuckin' place.


    Blogger Jinxy said...

    Translating: Finished.

    Brilliant. I'm going to use that the next time I'm sick of talking to someone.

    I can't believe you're just now finding Chewbacca's website.

    10:09 PM  
    Blogger Paul said...

    I know. I'm a little disappointed in that.

    Thanks for hooking a brother up. *sheesh*

    10:13 PM  
    Blogger brando said...

    Beefcake is not retarded. He knows exactly what he's doing. Sometimes I think it's a big act, like he walks into the bathroom and mutters "Fuck this talking high shit."

    Did you hear about the time some dude was making shit out of beefcake and Stu knocked him on his back. Then the guy got up like it was going to be a fight, but then he just left the bar with his friends.

    I have some quotes too.

    Borat - Hello. You are here on a hunt?
    Hunter - Yes, yes I am indeed.
    Borat - And you are... Why do you not have a horse?
    Hunter - Can't afford one to be quite honest.
    Borat - Why not?
    Hunter - I'm retired now.
    Borat - You are a retard?
    Hunter - Yes I am...
    Borat - Like a mongoloid?

    2:05 AM  
    Blogger Paul said...

    You may be right about Cake. That way he can hit on chicks and skip out on meals and still have it be "cute".

    I rememebr you telling me about when Stu knocked that guy off his chair. I believe it happened when I was studying in Nagoya and you wrote me a detailed email about it, which began with "I didn't see it myself but I heard it from numerous reliable sources." You also wrote me an email about dressing up in a kendo outfit, smearing blue paint on my genitalia, and exposing myself to school children. I showed that to my friend Jon, and he still makes some mention of "blue paint smeared on genitalia" almost every time I see him up in Tokyo. Some things are just classic, sir. I commend you.

    7:31 AM  

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