Massive Side Note (Date My Friend)

Massive Side Note:

thanks to the wonderful information given to me by a dear and close friend (which i will be sharing shortly) who is also a bastard swine, i felt the need to push this agenda to the masses. he is in a bit of a weird situation at the current moment. i got several text messages from the above mentioned friend that he has a double eye-crush* and i am here to help solve the problem. so tonight i will explain his mass explosions of text (not entirely verbatim) which will then be a perfect set-up for my view of the decline of romance and chivalry in tomorrow night's post. let's get on with it then.

* eye-crush - (n.) a crush on a person(s) that is based solely on physical appearences, without any further information on the person(s) attitude, character traits, personality or values.

now, don't get things twisted honeycomb, my sweetheart of a friend isn't some pompously shallow guy who looks only at the physical attributes of potential matches, quite the opposite actually. this is probably why he is best described as a hopeless romantic: hopeless in the sense that he hasn't found a lasting love yet and romantic in the sense that he still holds his southern values near & dear despite his continuous heart-breaks and rugged city exterior. now i will expand on the double trouble (women he is eye-crushing upon), his attributes (none physical) and a small amount of his view on romance & chivalry.

let me first describe the two eye-crushes as per the information i was given (his words, not mine, swine):

eye-crush #1.

"she is so adorable, i swear, she's pocket sized and absolutely adorable!"

"she has beautiful, long, strawberry blonde-ish hair that's ponytailed."

"a smile that can melt titanium."

(he blushes) "her legs are well built, because i guess, she has played a sport or two."

(this guy needs some deeper info to go with this description, i've seen 1,000 women like that.)

eye-crush #2.

"she's like the portrait of a goddess."

"her hair is raven black and wavy, like a historic vixen."

"she's about my height (5'10) and altheticly built."

"omg, she has a beautiful voice, a siren song even!"

(really man? could you be any more vague about her?! again, 1,000 others just the same.)

okay, now that the two eye-crushes have been remotely identified physically, i'm sure that you would now like some definition of the crushee, right? maybe? well, i've known him for about a decade and (we almost had a thing once, he just had an experimental moment...after which he knew guys just weren't for him.)

eye-crushee:

he is great with people (after all he still has Lego's, everyone loves Lego's).

he is well read on several subjects and enjoys knowledge.

his sense of humor is intelligent (sometimes crass) and unending.

his heart is huge and is geared toward helping strangers (slightly dangerous but commendable).

he can admit when he's wrong and is the first to say it (what a pansy, lolz).

beautiful women make him nervous, stupid nervous.

etc., etc., etc., etc.

so, here's what he has to say about romance & chivalry, most of which i agree with and will be plugging into my post tomorrow. these are his actual quotes, thoughts & life lessons.

"you don't always have to be chivalrous and romantic at the same time, but it does help a lot."

"romance isn't dead, despite what you've heard, it's just hidden in a few old fashioned hearts."

"much like romance, chivalry, isn't dead it's been lost in translation and Rosetta Stone hasn't caught up."

"every woman deserves romance & chivalry, no matter what."

"being a gentlemen doesn't make you a pussy, ask a woman, you'll see it's true."

"sex isn't romance but romance can lead to sex, sometimes."

"the true american gentlemen are diamonds in the rough, not the portraits in galleries."

"every woman is beautiful in her own way and someone should tell them that, regularly."

so eye-crushes, because i'm sure you read this blog, you have seen him (in all reality) more times than you can count and let him slip through your fingers. shame on you, shame indeed. i would just like you to know that this guys has worked hard all his life to make others happy and gone out of his way to be a delight. while he has had his spiteful moments (as many of us do) they don't come close to the good things he has done. if i had to describe his dating past it would be like this:

"he has dated enough 0's and 1's that his dating resume looks like binary code."

so when you see him, just smile & wave. also, if you feel the need to get a conversation out of him or a smile, just ask him about his Hello Kitty tattoo.

Challenge Countdown:

6 Days Remaining

Women Of Enterprise

oooh, thats right, i have issued a challenge!

why has a challenge been issued? a few reasons: some personal & some to be spelled out...

although i have made several references to some of the individuals who are were and are currently employeed, i also feel the need say something completely out of the way, in an absolutely positive tone. odd, right?! well, correct, this is indeed odd for me. so this open letter goes as such...

          To Whom It May Concern,

i would like to first say, congratulations on being part of an elite company that thrives on great business sense, congeniality & customer service. that is, in itself, a wonderful piece for the resume you will be submitting to whatever "next step" company you so decide to strive for after your stint at enterprise. while i have not shown this kind of outpouring of positivity up until now, i would like to extend to you all some kind words, no matter how minute they may be, as a show of good faith that you are not as pretentious as i had originally thought.

i have been thinking about the kinds of people that fill my field of vision on a day to day basis and without a doubt your attire is both alarmingly attractive and reassuringly respectable, both of which, i find to be a wonderful sight given the abundance of trashily shrouded people in the common american workplace. when any of your delightful female staff are waiting on customers, cleaning cars (on short handed days), or dealing with loud mouthed braggards in the kiosk i find myself stopping in mid stride to notice their well put together clothing and i have only one thought in mind: "well damn, she looks like the kind of woman men want most, but alas, will never have, kudos to her."

so, with all of this said, i would like to just extend my appreciation to the well dressed, non-slutty, down right professional & always alluring female staff of your company. whenever i see their smiling faces and deliciously attractive outfits, my head begins to swim and i become giddy with respect for their poise & professionalism. i am truely humbled by the painstaking strides to bring back well dressed, pleasant people into the workplaces of america.

Thankfully Yours,

Dax I. Rose

so then, ladies of enterprise, i stand before you and issue a sporting challenge, with a simple prize:

add a small dash of say...the color orange to your attire for an entire week, MY entire work week, and the best display will win a no-strings attached lunch on me. i know what your first mental image is: McDonald's Dollar Menu. well, be ready for the shock & awe....

N  O  P  E    N  O  T    E  V  E  N  !  !  !

i'm not saying you're getting a steak dinner or maine lobster (because well, i'm not made of money or trying to date you) but i can assure you it won't be dollar menu garbage. also, i have some stipulations (and or) rules that accompany this little challenge:

#1.NOTHING NSFW (Not Suitable For Work)!

#2. any item must be visible.

#3. it can't be an under-garment (no tom-foolery ladies).

#4. stones in ear rings, rings, necklace charms/pendants do not count.

#5. obscure logo's, characters (symbols or renderings of cartoons) or brands are encouraged.

#6. visible tattoo or piercing colors are acceptable (again, no tom-foolery,).

#7. covers of books (and or) magazines count depending on depth (intelligence) of information.

(what, you thought there wouldn't be guidelines? please. there are ALWAYS guidelines, in everything, ALL of the time.)

for example: politics, religion, literature, grammar, scientific experiments, fashion, courtship, legal proceedings, musical composition, cinematography, etc.

this little challenge will span from:

May 1st 2011 until May 5th 2011

to make things a little easier i will include a countdown with each new posting here and a link to the actual post, in case the rules & regulations...or even the prize become unclear.

now ladies, keep the color ORANGE in mind when you're splicing together those terrific little numbers you find yourself in while on the job. if this works out, i will expand this challenge to other people and, depending on results, post new & exciting photographic proof of the subjects in the trials to be held.

again, thank you for your professionalism, courtiesness, cheerful demeanor & poise. you all have every reason to be proud of your self-respect, self-image & fashion sense.

Good Luck & Goodspeed

Please Do...

welcome back!

alas tonight i will not be covering the decline of Romance & Chivalry, another night i suppose. in the wonderful heat of today i got to thinking about getting stickers made to promote this blog, as it is currently word of mouth and, frankly speaking, that just doesn't seem like enough for me. call me pretentious and egotisitical, it's true because, after all, I AM STILL human.

so stickers will be designed & ordered ASAHP (as soon as HUMANLY possible). squee!

so it may seem ridiculous this day in age but i feel that we don't ask enough questions of each other. maybe we have all become scared of going out of our way to gather new knowledge, maybe we lack the self esteem to brave what, in our own paranoid minds, is a strange world that we fear we don't belong to. it isn't rude to ask questions of others, in my opinion, IT IS RUDE to gawk at someone who is different from you in more than just one way. are you wondering where this is going? yes? well consider the question asked and i shall explain.

i'm not your "average" looking guy, by any means. that isn't to say that i am a pin cushion, a full canvas or even a skeleton or over muscled freak. sure i have a few tattoos in a few places (none of those places are NSFW [not suitable for work]) and yes i have 6 piercings (okay, 2 are NSFW but not below the waist, i'm not that brave). add to this minimal body modification, some delicious (AND SUPER CLEAN) lengthy hair that touches the shoulders, all natural (irish tinted) brown hair. i read for fun, not for classes. i watch films from most any country (one in particular i will NOT watch, as its summary alone makes me want to gouge out my own eyes...without having even seen a single scene. if you know what that film is, you feel my pain. lol.)

i love starbuck's pumpkin spice lattes and cheap beer (PBR).
i love handrolled sushi and home-made anything.
i've made friends with people from all kinds of lifestyles and backgrounds.

suave: not even remotely possible.

engimatic: eh, close enough.
open-minded: answer C (what BEST describes the above pronoun "me")

my big pet peev is this; gawking gets you nothing but spiteful actions and words and asking questions, no matter how ridiculous they seem in your head, is a gateway to figuring out things that you DON'T YET understand in your tiny little world.

so, if you happen to see me about, feel free to ask me a question. ask the BIG questions: who, what, when, where, why...etc. i AM generally a nice, patient, easy going guy who doesn't mind talking to ANYONE about ANYTHING, within reason, even the NSFW stuff, if you have to go there.

take a chance every now and then, approach your target with a smile and JUST ASK instead of staring.

everyone is different and MOST everyone deserves respect, not just awkward gazes and hushed talk.

Low Rent. High Horse. Kick To Mid Section.

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From Hiatus to Hilarious

for those of you who know me, and i mean KNOW me, it's obvious that i am outspoken-random-intelligent (mildly) and somewhat of a stand alone complex kind of person. those who KNOW me also can say, without a doubt, that i have this rather delightful ability to say/do things that make people uncomfortable and inspire shock in the "run of the mill" peope we all tend to gawk at simply because: "yeah bee-itch, i am is that hood and i will cut yo' punk ass, best BAH-lieve dat shee-it!"

so today while in my work place i got that feeling. you know, the feeling that someONE...or someTHING, is trying to burn a hole through your skull with their eyes. the type of tingle of movement from afar that is tracing the outline of your neck and drinking you in for one of two reasons:

#1. some ravenous, hungry beast is sizing you up and waiting for the moment to strike & devour its prey.
#2. someone is checking you out or trying to figure you out for their own sick, twisted reasons.

today was a #2 kind of day. for those just tuning in: NO i was not making a fecal reference, sorry you freak.

i was standing in a large open space, speaking with a co-worker about the business numbers left for the day and that feeling crept up the nape of my neck, over my spinal column and into the shampoo'd and conditioned locks of hair at bottom of my hairline. it was semi-magical, quasi-erotic & DEFINATELY creepy. so in that brief second i turned my head over my shoulder to see a delightful little number standing in a kiosk about 30 feet away, lost in thought and staring right into where the back of my head just was.

i had to grin a little because i so rarely get the chance to make people uncomfortable at work. i love to do it, however, i don't get many shots anymore.

there she was, clothed in (from what i could see, which was very little) a pastel yellow sweater. she stood staring into space, as i said, where my the back of my head was and she was fiddling with the pearl necklace she was wearing.

FREEZE! not THAT kind of pearl necklace. let's keep out minds out of the gutter shall we. agreed? good.

i can only assume she was trying to figure out if i was indeed the attractive woman she thought i was, or maybe she was deciphering the 7/8 inch matching black spots located in my earlobes. in either case, i turned over my shoulder, noticed her staring and decided "why not?! time to make things less comfy." so i pulled my left hand up, stared directly at her face, smiled and gave her the most SEXUALLY AMBIGUOUS WAVE that i could muster.

to say she was caught off guard isn't enough of a description, that is, if you ask me, your "narrator".

she stood for a second or so moreand then realized that she was spotted. here's where things went from fun to funny. her eyes got several centimeters larger due to the sudden shock of "fuck, i'm caught", she turned three shades of red (sunburnt, tomatoe, crimson) then dropped into an office chair in the kiosk and disappeared out of eye sight.

how much fun was that, right? adult to adult, one on one, EMBARRASSED GAWKING ACTION!!!

i have to say: its the little things that make the day fun and save your sanity. simple delights i say, simple delights.

well, thats all i have for now, it's been a trying week and i'm sur tomorrow i will have more to say indeed.

until next time,

Paulo!

Ode To A Tumor

i'm sure that everyone out there has been done wrong by someone they fell head over heels for and found themselves, after the nuclear fallout style break-up, listening to every CD they own and thinking about that person.

don't deny it, you've done, AT LEAST once. join the fucking club.

in recent days i have been going through the countless CD's i own (and to say there are many is a vast understatement) and i have come to a conclusion:

the ones i thought were so dead on with their connection to my heart-ache were, in fact, way the fuck off. see, i'm the kind of person who holds a grudge like a dead pirate still holds its saber: beyond the grave! so i took the time to re-visit these "jems" of musical connectivity and it hit me, the one that REALLY does it, REALLY explains a lot, REALLY REALLY hits home is a CD by a newer band that i've had the pleasure of listening to.

see, i fell in love with the music of a little band called Chiodos, named aptly for the Chiodos Brothers, who were the film makers behind, what is still a cult classic, Killer Klowns From Outer Space (it's not about the fake thug white guys who act like rappers, sorry you dope-head fucktards). well, in September 2009 (8 years of rocking the fuck out of people) they sent their singer (Craig Owens) packing due to "untold reasons". howeveer, about a year later, Craig started his newest band Destroy Rebuild Until God Shows (D.R.U.G.S.) and their self titled CD hit at the end of February this year.

THIS CD IS THE SOUNDTRACK TO A BREAK-UP LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!

imagine yourself back in the days after heartbreak, you're angry and devastated and out for fucking blood. this CD has that essence written inside and out. i'm not saying its the best CD ever, come on, MASTODON has that covered (at least, in my opinion, in the metal field). i picked it up and gave it a heavy listen and found those raw & bloody days churning in my guts, those emotions of dire hatred were like a phoenix soaring into the night sky and raining down liquid death! give the tracks "Sex Life", "The Only Thing You Talk About" and "If You Think This Song Is About You, It Probably Is" a try as soon as you can.

what i'm getting to is a couple things:

#1. bayside, dashboard confessional & story of the year...etc., are not great break-up CD's, sorry about it.
#2. feeling pitiful only works in the movies, so get angry and thrash around after you get kicked to the curb.
#3. dealing with sorrow doesn't always require more sorrow: sometimes it's Jack & Coke with some metal.

i know being stabbed in the back sucks. i know heartbreak is a bitch. i know bitches stab you in the back. so i say "bring the pain, bring the lies, bring every ounce of spiteful bllshit you can drag from the depths of the obsidian lake you refer to as your heart."

i will be waiting like a freak volcanic erruption, with the kind of devastating horror you only wish you could dream about to make the nightmare of me go away.

so please, give the CD a go, if it DOESN'T give you those feelings, forget you even heard it in the first place.

if you DO get those spiteful feelings rushing back into you: good, your journey has just begun.

So Pretty, So Plastic, So Predictable

today it became clear to me that i have found myself in a paradoxal position. shit. let me explain.

i tend to read a certain set of postings by a woman, in a near-by state, that i ABSOLUTELY enjoy. i can honestly say when my RSS feed pops up and there is a new post i tend to get a little giddy inside. it's not because i'm crushing on her, or like her or think about her: it's because the writing is wonderful. with that idea spent: the fact of the matter is she is getting in the way of her writing...in my eyes. this may sound stupid, even i must admit it, but this is the truth. it would seem more depth is needed. fuck me running, full speed backwards, while taking a shit.

if there is one thing i can't stand about blogs in general its the lack of substance and new material. if it's fresh: i can dig it. if in fact, it is well organized and intelligently written (which her's is), i would buy that blog a coffee and stare into it's frame with eyes wide open, just gazing in awe. the certain blog i speak of has me cursing it to the depths of "written like a childrens' book" hell.

this woman who write this delightful batch of hilarious and mind boggling things, is intelligent (to say the least), has a quick wit (which i adore so much), can debate like a pro (also a turn on) & generally has a splendid grasp of the usages of the english language. to me there isn't much to complain about. HOWEVER, as i am the eternal asshole, i have indeed found that small amount of something to complain about.

the persecution complex, lack of trust issues, desire to stay free, constant replay of..., and over use of the same subject(s) has begun to make me wish she had been one of the many victims of John Paul Knowles. for the love of literature (L.O.L)...(stop lol-ing at L.O.L) pick something absolutely uncharted to yourself. please, just once act like an adult and stop buying the store brand tampon words that you're so in love with!

if i get 100 people to read this blog i am referencing i can 87% guarentee that 95% of them will see the "life stuck on repeat" tessalational crap that is being recycled over and over and over again.

i know what's coming....wait for it...."if you don't like it, don't read it!"

THAT IS THE FUCKING PROBLEM! I DON'T HATE IT!

i love the insight and depth, but i'm tired of the topic(s).
i am infatuated with the drive and word use, but again, tired of the same topic(s).
the color scheme, comment to comment debate and shut-down: SUPERB. topic(s): DONE TO DEATH.

i would almost consider this woman a writer if it wasn't for the vile, redundant, petty, high-school-esque, garbage that fills every post.

her blog is like a snowcone: no matter what syrup you put on it, it's still a fucking snowcone.

again, I LOVE THE WAY SHE WRITES BUT I HATE HER GETTING IN THE WAY OF HER POTENTIAL. everyone has the same issues that she has: insecurity/persecution/doubt/longing for freedom/wishes for an easier tomorrow. EVERYONE feels the same way, at one time or another, so SHUT THE FUCKING VAULT on the overdone, boring, childish bullshit you're spewing and try something TRUELY INTERESTING AND NEW...AS IN YOU'VE NEVER ONCE COVERED THE TOPIC BEFORE.

if this well read, word vixen continues to play the same cry baby card about the same issue time and time again, it will be a waste of the following:

time, space, internet capability, dictionary content, writing time...etc.

so, if the ghost of Hunter S. Thompson is listening:

GO SMACK THAT FUCKING CUNT SWINE IN HER WHORE FACE, MAKE HER WRITE LIKE THE STRONG INDIVIDUAL SHE COULD POSSIBLY BE. IF SHE WOULD BOLDLY GO TO ANOTHER SET OF IDEAS, CUT THE BULLSHIT & STOP DWELLING ON HER CHILDHOOD MOLESTATION PERIOD, SHE COULD BE BETTER THAN KING JAMES.

enjoy your night, day, life.

The Abyss: Quintessence (Part 2)

my eyes opened to a sight i remember from my childhood, a scene i knew i had seen only once before this day. the circular room in which i awoke was the "starting point" of my journey to the Great Divide. here in this room are numerous book cases, housing what seems to be infinite books, each appearing to be just like all the rest: bound in aged leather much like the color of grassless soil. my bare feet move toward one of these book cases, as i walk i see that the floor is devoid of dust, decay & traffic. the substance under me is marble, beautiful marble in all directions. the pattern is that of tessalations, organic tessalations rather than the geometric ones of mc esher. they spiral out from what i assume is the absolute center of the room. something wants me to stand here and speculate on the floor, something wants me to stop asking questions. i can't say if this paradoxal or not, however, i dare not spend too much time on the idea or the room itself, i must continue on.

i turn toward the only exit out of this room, i see the candle lit hallway that will take me to that abyss, that wonderous and endless place from my youth. in seeming silence my bare souls make their escape into the hallway. the textures and views here are much more soothing. this floor is carpeted and soft, it feels like walking on skin that isn't attached to bone, gentle epidermis spans the floor from wall to wall. i know this isn't normal or whatever you wish to call it, however, it is much more relaxing than the carpet in the living world. my movement continues forward as i glance from side to side at the walls. i reach my hand out to touch them and i get a shock of amazement: the walls are papered in tongues; thousands of warm, pink, damp tongues. as i cast my hands over them they reflex and make waves, waves all the way down the hallway in both directions. the ripple of speech, before the end. this must make the floor the crawl of skin as the last breath exits the body. this was much more terrifying as a child of only ten years, now i find myself spellbound, aroused even by this collection of last minute lifeform. in expectation i look up to explore but fnd nothing: form, light, colors. a void.

i stand before a set of double doors at the end of the living hallway, they are also alive and they alone stand in my way of this path to the place i seek. these doors are a collage made entirely of several cirulatory systems. a mass of various sized crimson blood filled tubes, arranged into mind boggling designs, run completely through the doors. veins have been braided into the moldings and door handles. capalaries create a wood-grain effect. this should be vulgar and nauseating but it is more beautiful than anything i have every seen crafted by mortal beings. these doors are a masterpiece. i focus on my arms, lifting them slowly, gently even, and place my open hands upon the grand design of these living door handles and grasp them as one would grasp a delicate flower. i feel the blood still pumping within them, warm vibriant blood, swaying through them and into the rest of the doors. i push with all my might and open them to face what i faced so many years before: the Great Divide.

there, beyond the living tissues of those no long dead, i stand at the edge of an abyss the likes which can not be explained, it is something that has to be seen in order to fully understand. i know that you can't step past the ledge of this place unless you are meant to, i made that mistake as a child, trying to adventure into unknown territory without thinking twice. the last time i was spit out of this place, back to my still waiting body, i was ejected without explanation. so now i have returned to observe the Great Divide, this endless nothingness at the end of the living hallway, outside of the marble room. it is peaceful here: no sirens, no birds chirping, no unwanted audio anywhere. vast emptiness stares back at me and now i make my move: i will try my luck with speech, i choose to speak into the complete blackness. "is anyone or anything there? am i in the company of another?"

there grew a symphony of noise, a tremendous rumble of ear splitting sound that was everywhere. i looked from side to side, up and down, i found nothing and no one to make this happen. i felt uneasy for the first time at the foot of nothingnesss, shock & awe overtook me in that instant. again it came, the rumble and then from that came a million screams mixed with, what could only be described as, a million sighs. a unification of voice or voices, as it were, bellowed out of the blackness. every tone, pitch, language combined to form a small pinprick of light in the distance. it shot toward me like a bullet, closing in on me in a split second and stopping, from what i could tell, 100 feet from me hovering above the Great Divide. it began to pulse with color, a light crystal blue, and pulsed more and glowed ever so slightly. my mind was at full alert now, i had gained the attention of...something. then shock took over again, as it spoke.

"Il messaggero non e importante"

i was left speechless, my voice was missing in action, i was unable to respond at that instant.

"Il messaggero non e importante"

i didn't understand. i knew it was latin but i had no idea what it meant.

"you're right on time, it was known that you would come back for answers. speack now, you have little time, do not hasitate."

this is what i had waited to experience, so i tried again to speak but to no avail.

"your voice is of the living. this place is devoid of life, use your soul."

my mind concentrated on speaking from within, from what i could only assume was my soul. i spoke with my entire body, or the projection of it i can assume. "i know i can not approach you or i will be ejected from here so i wish to ask this: what are you?" there came a million laughs from the ball of blue pulsing light and then it spoke again to me.

"a collection of quintessence left behind in the Great Divide as those who were have gone to their respective points of being. complete nothingness. a paradox. all and none. you are done here, you will return again but only when your time is finished."

this moment was what i had longed for and with that i felt the ejection. the charismatics' timer had reached zero and i was brought back from the abyss, the Great Divide was lost again.

The Abyss: Explaining Further Ahead (Part 1)

bizarre title. even more bizarre happening. transmission begin.

with a small sect of believers, the host of the evening's events who we shall name Reinhold, made his way down the concrete steps into the basement underneath the beautiful victorian house that stood several blocks from this city. in the small rectangular windows there was little visble of the ouside world, just the sporadic flash of headlights, momentary and then darkness took over again. in this damp, dismal, poorly lit space was the aroma of stale air, dirt & rubbing alcohol. all in attendance was hit full force by these elements and were left wondering, daydreaming, about what was about to happen and what the outcome would be. triumph or tragedy? completed observance or udder loss? the night was young and the fun had not yet begun.

the last of the sect down the steps faced a wall and flipped up a switch to the overhead lights. the entire place was bathed in eye crushing flourescent light, ferocious angelic white glowing illumination, crackling from one side to the other. everyone shielded their eyes from the harsh reversal of the blackness, with the exception of Reinhold, who lacked the self serving humanity to deny any feeling he could experience. this may be the last time this could happen, so it was important to take it all in and grip what his life has been until now. within this sect three followers began to spread out, each heading in a different direction, to a different area. for the first time it is strangely appearent that this basement has been turned into a makeshift hospital or surgery center. metal tables, computers, medical monitors and other equipment was scattered around the room, which by now, seemed as eerie as it was vast. this entire victorian under world was to be the center of what could only be called an experiment.

Reinhold's head slowly turned in all directions, taking the scene in piece by piece. he stood next to an over sized shower curtain, behind it something was shrouded from view, something sinister in it's own way. his hand extended, gripped the curtain and quickly slid it as far as he could. the claw-footed tub awaited him. the sect memebers pulled all of their equipment toward the grand masterpiece in the center of the room, wiring was being plugged into countless surge protectors, power was being flooded into the electronics and the time had come to begin. the countdown to crossing the divide had begun.


the following is a mass journal entry, as written by Reinhold himself. this story is his and his alone.


the room is colder than i had originally expected, i suppose it is for the sake of the computers and monitors, the machines that will track my entry and exit from the Great Divide. i began to take off my clothing, folding it neatly and stacking the pieces on a steel cart one of the "charismatics" has provided me. these men are bound by an oath to watch - record - ressurect or in the worse case, dispose of me when this done. another of the charismatic wheels over a dolly stacked with bags of ice. they look like crystals, those used to tell fortunes or heal the ill.  fear is tapping my shoulder now, however, i shall not gaze into him. i have much to prepare for. i have much to do in order to survive.

undressed and awaiting the sign to strike out on the journey i stand in a thin robe, concentrating on every memory i can muster, every ounce of humanity i have and have witnessed. my sanity is a tool i will need to return from the void, it will protect me and guide me as i wander the wasteland. i am not permitted to eat or drink, my stomach is now reminding me of this fact and i must ignore it's cry for satisfaction for now. several monitors are being fitted with cords, each with an electrode that will be placed, glue even, to my body. it as if a swarm of pit vipers has decided i am dinner, it is a small comedic moment that swells up in me, i will not speak of this now, later perhaps.

with my new found tentacles in place the ice charismatic has filled the great claw-footed tub and has added water as well. this ice bath will cool me down, slow my heart and lead me into the hallway to the Great Divide. fear again taps vigorously at my shoulder, i find myself swatting at the air behind me, the charismatics take notice and give questioning looks to me. i assure them it is nothing, stating, "we should make haste, fear is lonesome and wishes that i play." they all nod and move at double speed, getting into position to open the channel to the wasteland, the abyss before me. with everyone except me seated, i am given the sign to step into the tub and lay down. so it finally begins.

shock shoots through my skin and nerves, every single hair on my body seems to beg for heat at that very moment. goosebumps spread like the plague all over me, leaving me looking as if i am being pulled in infinite directions by tiny threads from beneath my flesh. i can alread feel the all consuming hallway being lit by the candles of time, i am nearing the endless realm that i wish to explore. i am under the icy surface, with the exception of my head, and my vision is opaque like foggy glass. i focus on my life before now, reliving every scent, taste, caress, color and shade of light. i try to say that i'm ready but my face is numb and shaking uncontrolably. fear stands at the head of the tub, just behind me, and he finally speaks to me in a tone that no one else seems to hear, he says, "your disreguard for me is rather annoying. if you do make it back, we will be having a chat at length, do you understand?"

i attempt to nod in agreement but that is when i finally go under completely, the monitor has stopped.

While The Sun Is Still Up...

yes i know: "rather early for you to be posting paul, are you okay? drunk? falling prey to dementia?" alas, no, none of these are the case. rather i have a brief post i felt the need to make.

we ALL know that what you say can "cause problems" or even "make people hate you". no need for fireworks, this is all common knowledge. also, to tell someone to mind their words is great advice, which i, will now trample all over like a horde of angry bow-legged soccer moms.

DISCLAIMER & ADVANCE NOTICE TO ALL WHO CONTINUE:

i do not claim to be a saint, a role model or even generally a nice person by any stretch of the term "nice". i also DO NO CONDONE violence as a first response. second or third, maybe. fourth and beyond: ABSOLTELY! what you are about to read is GUARENTEED to piss someone off. thats just a fact. the person or people who get pissed off will be in the wrong because they will have skimmed this, not read it completely. so, get offended and on with the show.

as i'm sure you all know there are people in the world who, even having met them only once, make you want to punch the tartar off their fucking teeth. you still with me? good. now imagine knowing someone like that and being unable to make that spiffy little daydream a reality. you could be within arms' length, ready to extend the bitchslap, and find yourself without ammo. these ravenous twats will give you dirty looks (i.e.: the evil eye, stink eye, grit on you etc.) and generally hate you without actually knowing dick about you. like weezy has said (yes, lil wayne is one of many advisors in my life, oddly enough) that "haters be hating but them bitches ain't nothing."

this is a terrifying and completely realistic situation that has happened more than once. sad, but so so true.

in my case it isn't because it wouldn't be fun or a huge load off of my mind, it's because my mother raised me not to slap the dog shit out of ignorant people and especially women. yes, i still follow my mother's advice and i will until the day i die. single mom knows best, most of the time. so fucking bite my american mutt ass.

so now you see where this is going, right? i'm not a domestic abuse advocate but sometimes i can understand why it does happen. especially when someone has beat the breaks off of some loud mouthed cracker broad who thinks she can run her jab from here to next year and not EVENTUALLY have to pay the price for it.

NOTHING IN LIFE IS FREE, NOT EVEN DEATH. want proof? go to a mortician and ask about cremation/burial. its not cheap.

now, it was brought to my attention that a certain person (some of you know this person) was a victim of domestic abuse, probably many times, in the recent past. at first i was ready to call upon the powers that be, take a road trip, and serve up some good old fashion street justice. woot woot, lets go whoop a motherfucker. HOWEVER, now i'm not so sure that it was ALL THE FAULT of the aggressive piece of shit that did cross the line and go physical with the whole thing.

again, i DO NOT CONDONE domestic abuse but i DO UNDERSTAND. understanding isn't a crime, yet.

this person in question proceeded with an extreme amount of small talk with me while giving not only the evil eye but also having, generally, a shitty attitude toward me for no current reason. fuck that bullshit. not only did i hold my tongue and speak only in a non-threatening tone but i was chipper and pleasant to this person. there were no malicious actions/words/tones used on my part at any given time.

now i see why this trick got her face handed to her on several different days.

if you have nerve spasms, emotional disorders or tourettes and can't control the muscle movements of your face or the tone and firing of your mouth, fine, let it be known that this is the case and i'm sure people everywhere will understand and overlook this, without prejudice.

if you don't have any active physical/psychological problems and still continue to be a blatant ass-hat to the people around you then you get zero sympathy and understanding. you are open season and probably the target of some kind of physical/psychological/emotional abuse. sucks to be you, stop being a cunt.

with all of that said i would like to reiterate:

I DO NO CONDONE DOMESTIC ABUSE/VIOLENCE!!!

i said nothing rude (used no profanity, name calling, sneaky tones)

i was polite (said "thank you" and "good-bye")

didn't rearrange my face (shoot them a dirty look, stare, glare or throw the evil eye)

kept my cool (didn't swing on, knock the fuck out or spit on them)

so, the next time you find yourself about to drop a bitch for being rude to you just remember the following:

i have a low thresh-hold for stupidity/ignorance/bitches and i can keep my cool and so can you.

A PSA About White Girls

so as we all know there are SEVERAL types of white girls. we've all seen them strolling around and taking up sidewalks, cafe tables, bus seats, floor space at a show & even in movies. they are fucking everywhere. now i'm not going to go into extreme depth of all the variations of this swell of pastey delight. i will outline a few, but i will focus on two VERY DANGEROUS types of white girls. lets explore this, shall we?

skinny: the kind that think because their pants are on the low-end, divisible by 2 they are some how sexy and should be treated as such. WRONG: you're built like an asian boy and that should be punished with extra servings of Taco Bell and PURE BUTTER, melted and funneled into your tummy box.

over-weight: this kind either eat too much because of multiple rejections or eat too much to bypass rejection and skip straight to depression. yes, some have SERIOUS gland problems and some ARE FUCKING LAZY, you be the judge of the situation.

faux-hood: also known as a HOOD BOOGER because this type sticks to anything and everything deemed "gangsta", "hood" & "urban". these ridiculous broads hastily conclude that because they spew out a black baby they are now an honorary black person. wrong trick, you're wrong.

faux-asian: this variety study too much,party too little and play head games with suitors until the day comes where some brave rapist drops Ketamine into their Sleepy Time Tea, after which, that Kung Pow Hymen goes Ha-Do-Ken right out the window.

hollywood: the fake & bake, root touch-up, twitter styled vocalizers who wear too much britaney spears perfume in order to cover the every growing stench of unwashed vaginal discharge that still clings to their legs. we call these girls "the next big thing" or "bonus scene".

boot camp: watch your ass fellas! these aren't what you're thinking; this type has a girlfriend who's dick is much larger/multi-colored/battery operated and deadlier than your dick. rest assured, this girl will lure you into a dorm room where her partener will be waiting to show you her "chauvanist pig...in a blanket".


as i said there are countless variations and combinations of white girls. have you ever played any form of Alchemy? yeah? it's like that except worse because these people exist and unfortunately murder & assisted suicide are both crimes. i think stupidity is a crime, then again, thats only me....right?

okay. now for the main event: the 2 VERY DANGEROUS WHITE GIRLS categories as chosen by me.
(any and all complaints and suggestions for a change in these can be submitted to no one. F-Y-L...2 times.)

keep in mind the following have been observed by me personally, either up close or from afar. i went the steve irwin path and gathered as much information as i could before i attempted to pounce on the targets in question. unlike steve irwin, i took precautionary measures, not to be staked like a vampire by a creature that packs a sharp object (either connected to their body or carried as a form of protection).

CATEGORY #1. THE DUMB SMART-ASS

(Deeper Than A Kiddie Pool, Shallow Enough To Drown In A Teaspoon)

this type is best described as the sentence above, but for the sake of "what does that mean" i shall expand upon this a little more. she's cute, she's adorable, HOWEVER, she isn't going to be the next top model or miss america, because we all know the Q & A section of that is to keep women from going absolutely ballistic and rioting...the truth hurts. along with that she comes factory with a low amount of intelligence (most of which is book smarts, no complaints here) but lacks a great deal of common knowledge and street smarts.

she can be found shopping gagues at hot topic early in the day, before the trendy fucks come pouring in like a heavy-flow day, with their parents' credit cards and hard earned cash. after that you will spy her in a book store (or two) searching for Kafka-Mass Philosophy-Medical Training-Paranormal books. this is followed by either a job/classes/coffee shop on her way to the afore mentioned places. her demeanor is calm, cool & collected aside from this she looks forward to mild to medium partying or maybe some dating.



her "moody-brooding-dark" facade cloaks the valley cunt that she truely is. another high end twat slumming it so that her caste is well hidden from the simple guy she longs to decimate. she will turn you upside down, inside out or backwards with psycho-babble and useless trivia and knowledge that would get the average person cock-punched like a Mormon selling Tupperware. her endless yapping about things she considers "left field", "pre-mainstream" and "obscure" she longs to be seen as Daria but in the end looks more like Clarrisa: explaining it all for a few seasons then gets cancelled before the ratings go into the red. she will make you wish for "buy a bullet and rent a gun" day. her heart has been crushed before, much like the rest of us, and to ensure it doesn't happen easily again or ever again, she will talk you into a coma and hope you're still paying attention. if you make it past her disertation on life she will more than likely be your girlfriend soon and if you don't choke her the two of you will hump like meth-heads in a condom commercial.

after this shared moment of genital high-fives you will learn very quickly that she is much like you: already bored, ready to go through the motions with another guy, as soon as she can find a way to seem less robotic and more like the hormonal wreck she wishes she could be. her tools include; random crying with no tears, bi-polar outbreaks in the food court, ignoring the world during crime shows, suggesting CD's you absolutely hate & finally just cheating on you. sadly enough, the surgeon general still hasn't deemed her actions a health hazard like second-hand smoke or drinking while pregnant.



CATEGORY #2. THE INTELLIGENT CERVICAL NIGHTMARE

(When The Abyssal Mind Meets The Sumit of Slutiness)

her type is three things combined to irritate the fuck out of anyone: sheer beauty, absolute intelligence & a total lack of the concept "true love/true romance". you can spot her from a mile away, walking confidently with the air of "yes, i'm mouth-watering and i can read in two or more languages". i admit, this is the subject of many erections for me. intelligence does it for me every time. i like looks, much like any swinging dick, but a truely well-read woman gives me goosebumps-makes me lightheaded-boils my juices. this category of female isn't for the bottom feeding, jizz splashing, frat bastards of the world. nope, scratch that. this woman eats those guys alive and shits out handicapped people. a singular phrase comes to mind: SEXY NURSE. just because you're not a doctor doesn't mean you can't do his job, it only means his kinko's printed degree looks better with a "world's best dad" mug his secretly gay son bought him.

a female of this caliber can out think you before you know she's even there. she has you figured out no matter what you're wearing, where you're hanging out (because she is a social ninja), what you're doing OR EVEN how you're attempting to be something you're not. her senses are sharper than any weapon you've ever used on WOW/Call Of Duty/Bushido Blade. all you see is a bombshell that you would like to plow like so many untouched fields. her sexy is deadly, it reaches out and fills your joe boxers with dude caulk. you swear when you see her that you've NEVER seen ANYONE sexier, she is the hottest-most smoking-aboslutely perfect specimen of erotic goodness there ever was/is/will be. so, you have to go try your hand at the goddess, the siren who sang a song of "come tear these clothes off me, throw me into anything and fuck me so hard you break my pelvis". so you do and you happen to be like the sperm that makes it to the egg.

good work. now down at the bottom where it says "the deceased", sign there. you're a corpse, a soon to be cadaver of copulation. you play the role of the testosterone man-beast, put on your best shade of suave and proceed to act as her ticket to bliss. she PERMITS you to play her vag like Bon Jovi plays ANYWHERE. sold the fuck out and rocking every single fucking time. then after a week or so of constant lap-rocketing you ACTUALLY become bored (at least for the time being) with the physical part of all of this. your mind wanders to her words, her book shelves, her cd collection and that when it kicks the taint right off your body: HOLY SHIT THE SEX GODDESS IS ALBERT EINSTEIN'S SLUTTY, SUPER SMART SISTER!! now you know see the perfect woman, the golden chalice, holy grail of the female world: the insanely intelligent sexy woman of your dreams. it's better than the lotto!

wrong again dude piston, you've been played. the smarts are real, the sexy is something completely different. while she SEEMS sexy and beautiful and down right perfect, she is indeed a succubus feeding off of you in order to replenish her so-called gorgeousness. a disguise that hides the damaged goods under the surface. this type has problems with TRUE CONNECTION. while she may secretly long to be happily ever after with one of the poor fools she has suckered (no pun intended) into being her fall back plan when she fails herself. there is sad, lonesome, never to be understood little girl in the depths of this all consuming blackness of a "person". what started out as awesome ended in some BIZARRE, FUCKED UP TRAGEDY!!!



do yourself a HUGE favor: find a way to embody her words & intellect...then WRECK THAT MOTHERFUCKER LIKE A STOLEN CAR!!! you would be best just reading a shitload of classic literature then masturbating franticly like a crackhead.

this has been your PSA About White Girls. thanks.