I find that creating a post to be humorous, insightful, relative, and worthwhile is tough. I cannot just sit down and write. I do not think I am funny. I just find things that people can relate to-- Loving Kobe Bryant. Hating annoying people. Getting shut down by girls.... My biggest problem is to not write about one thing over and over. Girls. I could write about them ever day. Not because they awe me. But because they destroy me day in and day out. I just keep coming back. I hope I don't sound like I am pouting. I do not want your sympathy, I want you to find me the sweetest girl ever. Let me know when you do. I am anticipating that memo very soon. So get on it. Now.
I also have a rule that no month should have too many posts. There is not a specific number, but I think October has seen some good posts. Hopefully November has some good stuff. I have a few ideas, but mostly I hope that I will come in contact with some really great people and situations... SO enough of this post.
Your wishes... granted.
If you have been a long time reader you may have been wondering, "When will I ever get to read a rap that David has been working on?" I did mention awhile back, (May 27, 2010) that I had a goal to do something cool everyday... for instance, " write a rap, record a rap, become a rapper". Well, this may not be Burger King, but you can have it your way (lyric credited to Blastoff). I will post some of my old work. I must admit that this rap was inspired by a good friend of my brother John. This is just the rough draft... enjoy.
Discount on the mike. To my baby girl.
my love for you is inelastic.
Cause when im with you its fantastic.
not a normal good, but a luxury. wish you were stuck to me.
while the world is in finacial chaos,
my stomach is in knots
hoping that my stocks will only rise,
prayin you quanitiy demanded is only rising
rising to equilbrium price, it may not suffice,
but i'm willing to pay above marginal cost,
forget the theories and lessons. no professors here.
this aint freakonomics. This is about a boy and girl.
the only opportunity cost i can worry about is not having my boo.
give me the cheese, the assets, capital, but ill still be alone wit out her.
we aint talkin about goods and services,
cause girl you got me addicted
love it the only input i need,
cause my production possiblity curve can only grow.
the rule of 72 doesnt apply to us. trust me we are the exeption to every rule.
call me a a fool, but your supply is just short of my demand.
oh miss, the invisble hand is truly guiding us. havin her love is a must.
adam smith forgot to write our theory down.
day for you to get in the wedding gown.
the only opportunity cost i can worry about is not having my boo.
give me the cheese, the assets, capital, but ill still be alone wit out her.
we aint talkin about goods and services.
Note: Please, do not tell me that some of the lines do not rhyme or even sound good in your head... they sound good in mine. Take an economic class and step in my brain if you want to dis on this.
For your consideration.
To the few viewers of my blog: I have a little treat for you. I am offering you something more substantial than bread, more powerful than a bullet, more aggressive than a rabid dog.... more blogs to view. These are some of the blogs I follow. If you follow mine, I think you will appreciate these.
- First, by my best friend, Caleb. We are the same person with very different views. Yet he is one of the funnest and smartest kids I know.
- Following closely,written by a hilarious friend of mine from the mission, Tyler. His father is comedian and he surrounds himself with the cream of the crop.
- In addition I have the Golden Boy. Craig. The man who is on the verge of getting married. I just know it.
- The blog I used to contribute to often. This blog has deeper thoughts and good music suggestions.
- Honorable mention, and only woman on the list, Steph. She is too sporadic in writing...
AND another note. The reaction buttons, take them serious. I do not want to have to remove them. I understand you may feel three different things when reading a post, but please, maintain composer and maturity and click one. Goodness. This is not some new toy where you press whatever button looks neat. "Ohh, Justin Bieber!" *click* NO. Be a grown up. Look, that is the only way I can really tell who is reading. I do not want one person giving me the false pretense that a bunch of people are reading it. CLEAR? Gosh darnnit.
Lemme tell you about this one time...
You take your seat, 10 minutes before the movie starts. You really want to see the previews. You've heard about this new movie called "Glory was OURS!" You don't much about it except your uncle Ronald like it. The lights dim, you sip your soda, just waiting, like a panther waiting for its prey. Just as you ram a huge handful of salty over buttered popcorn (just the way you like it... fatso) in your mouth, the preview starts.The screen is black. You hear Don LaFontaine's voice, yes, they brought him back from the dead. It was cheaper than getting Pablo Francisco...
He was cooler than you.....
He was the best athlete...
He was homecoming king...
He kissed over 50 girls... in a week...
He was the greatest EVER!
Then an epic shot of a Channing Tatum strutting the hall of a high school, Letterman jacket and all. To some epic building music. It is so faint but so powerful you almost shed a tear.
Coming this summer, in 4D
Experience the thrilling life of Derek LaRoussa.
Channing has been in slow motion the whole time... the halls are lined with outrageously good looking girls. Banners are lining the hall with "Homecoming!" "Go Warriors" "Dance Tonight". As he passes, he is all alone mind you, girls gawk, boys try to give him the coveted head nod, to which he gives back. He winks, he smiles.
Born to greatness.
This is the tale of an American Hero.
He enters a gymnasium in total silence. Standing room only. He then raises his hands and the crowd goes BASERK! The camera zooms in slowly as he continues to smile and raise his arms high. The light slowly fades out.
You probably have a few questions. What is this movie really about? What is 4D? Do I get to see Channing naked? Should I get a refill? One at a time. I will answer the most pertinent one first. No, no nudity will be shown.
This is the future of movies. 4D. Where people actually are in the movie. They cannot act or change what happens, but they are transplanted into the character. They feel like they are actually in it. That would be awesome, I think less people would go to movies where the main actor or actress gets beat up. Fight Club may lose some popularity.
This movie is inspired by uncle Rico and all of the ball flexors who cannot get over their Glory Days. This is for the guy who actually pulls up his football stats for girls, thinking that she will like him for that. This is for the guy who still tells of his huge football hits to his buddies, hoping for some oo's and ahh's. This is for the guy who thinks that telling everyone about how much he squatted will get some brownie points. This is for all of the idiots that can't let it go. I fear that in making this movie these poor souls will stay in this mentality. This movie has no plot. It just shows Tatum being the man. That is it. It ends at graduation. We don't know what happens to him.
I hope that Tatum will move on though. I hope that he is living in the present, looking forward to the future. I pray that Tatum can let go of the past and realize that high school shouldn't be the highlight. I can only wish for this.
True T-Bird?
Every college or university has some kind of rite of passage that one must go through to become legit. Like paying tuition isn't enough to say that you are apart of the University. Or painting your entire body for a football game. Nope, not enough. You have to do something that the student body president and his/her cronkies decided was clever. Like being a "true T-Bird".
Homecoming week has a night called, "True T-Bird Night." On Friday night everyone, and I mean everyone, the ugly, the wierdos, the tough guys, gather around this statue of Old Sorrel. At midnight everyone lubes up their lips and kisses another person. Cool huh? It is a perfect excuse to just get some undeserving action. The problem is that you cannot just show up and kiss a stranger. No, no, you have to secure a for sure lip smack. Get on the dial, call everyone you know, text em, facebook em. Whatever you have to do, because going stag to that exclusive club could be suicide. UNLESS, you are a balsy son of a gun. If you got the guts to go alone and kiss a stranger, then you are a baller. Baller status. I mean, if someone does that, they enter into the HOF. No questions asked. They get a gold jacket.
This is the only time of year, well besides New Years, that you can ask for a booty call. There is a problem with this though... isn't there? I mean, giving up a kiss, like a... slut? Lip whore? I dunno, it just doesn't settle right with me. What does that say about yourself? Like just this one night I will let down my standards and kiss some shmoe, that will mean nothing. Call me old fashioned, but pointless kisses and make outs seem so lame. Plus, I really don't see the correlation between a stupid kiss and becoming a true T-Bird.
If I was student body president, also known as SBP, I would make being a true T-bird a lot cooler and more exclusive. In order to be a true T-bird, when I am SBP, you have to either:
A. Have a dance off with the Mascot at the center of what ever playing surface he is at... and win. Obviously. We aren't giving this title out like oranges at AYSO games.
B. Attempt the gallon challenge on the front row of your math class. This also MUST be documented. Yeah, you have to hold it down for at least 10 seconds. Duh.
C. Sleep in the Presidents home or within two feet of any door. But if you are on the outside, you have to stay there until you are discovered.
D. Water balloon people in the library during finals.
I am up for suggestions. I would feel a lot more proud to be a true T-bird doing these things... for sure.
Homecoming week has a night called, "True T-Bird Night." On Friday night everyone, and I mean everyone, the ugly, the wierdos, the tough guys, gather around this statue of Old Sorrel. At midnight everyone lubes up their lips and kisses another person. Cool huh? It is a perfect excuse to just get some undeserving action. The problem is that you cannot just show up and kiss a stranger. No, no, you have to secure a for sure lip smack. Get on the dial, call everyone you know, text em, facebook em. Whatever you have to do, because going stag to that exclusive club could be suicide. UNLESS, you are a balsy son of a gun. If you got the guts to go alone and kiss a stranger, then you are a baller. Baller status. I mean, if someone does that, they enter into the HOF. No questions asked. They get a gold jacket.
This is the only time of year, well besides New Years, that you can ask for a booty call. There is a problem with this though... isn't there? I mean, giving up a kiss, like a... slut? Lip whore? I dunno, it just doesn't settle right with me. What does that say about yourself? Like just this one night I will let down my standards and kiss some shmoe, that will mean nothing. Call me old fashioned, but pointless kisses and make outs seem so lame. Plus, I really don't see the correlation between a stupid kiss and becoming a true T-Bird.
If I was student body president, also known as SBP, I would make being a true T-bird a lot cooler and more exclusive. In order to be a true T-bird, when I am SBP, you have to either:
A. Have a dance off with the Mascot at the center of what ever playing surface he is at... and win. Obviously. We aren't giving this title out like oranges at AYSO games.
B. Attempt the gallon challenge on the front row of your math class. This also MUST be documented. Yeah, you have to hold it down for at least 10 seconds. Duh.
C. Sleep in the Presidents home or within two feet of any door. But if you are on the outside, you have to stay there until you are discovered.
D. Water balloon people in the library during finals.
My wants are worth the blood of others.
Switching gears.... and yes, I can do that on occasion.
I have noticed that ever blog post of mine incorporates the pronoun "I". Not that taking about myself is bad. I mean, this is my blog. My experiences. This blog is very informal. ANYWAYS, this thought got me thinking, if ever post is talking about myself, then what does everyday consist of? Thinking of myself. Totally self absorbed? Do all I really think about is myself? And for some reason, this got me thinking about the larger scale. Like, where did I get this kind of attitude, of selfishness. Or what perpetuates this culture of narcissism that seems to dominate my country...
America is consumed with the idea of being comfortable. We insist that our wants are more important than the greater good. This comes from capitalism, which so many patriots claim to be our saving grace. Capitalism equals progress. Progress equals American exceptionalism. Exceptionalism equals selfishness. This is the reason why so many of us take no thought of the sweat shops incorporated so that we can wear our hip clothes and nikes. No one questions how many solders were killed to provide the gallon of gasoline to top off the SUV tank. Hardly anyone considers the hardships of illegal immigrants harvesting our foods. The problem is that we are so used to luxuries that they have become commodities. We are spoiled, but yet point to our neighbor as the culprit.
I am to blame. I hear myself rationalizing immoral things so I can be "happy." For example, I say to myself, "At least those sweat shops provide an income that would not otherwise be there," or, "Solders understand that they are going to risk their lives for my "freedoms." Luxury items do not bring happiness. I could do just fine with a pair of pants and a shirt... but will I give up my excess? Heck no. It is MINE. I deserve it. And why not? How dare anyone tell me to do something that is unnecessary.
Sorry if this all just a huge snowball of so many issues that lines are crisscrossed and nothing makes sense. I guess I am just trying to create thoughts within myself, or rather, ideas of how I can change. How I can change this behavior and ideology within myself. I feel like I have done nothing of substance to really give back to the world or this great country. I am thankful for everything I have. I hope that I have not made all of America look evil. We are the greatest country in the world because we are striving to become better, one individual at a time. That change might as well be started with me... I still don't know how, but I am sure something will come to mind.
I have noticed that ever blog post of mine incorporates the pronoun "I". Not that taking about myself is bad. I mean, this is my blog. My experiences. This blog is very informal. ANYWAYS, this thought got me thinking, if ever post is talking about myself, then what does everyday consist of? Thinking of myself. Totally self absorbed? Do all I really think about is myself? And for some reason, this got me thinking about the larger scale. Like, where did I get this kind of attitude, of selfishness. Or what perpetuates this culture of narcissism that seems to dominate my country...
America is consumed with the idea of being comfortable. We insist that our wants are more important than the greater good. This comes from capitalism, which so many patriots claim to be our saving grace. Capitalism equals progress. Progress equals American exceptionalism. Exceptionalism equals selfishness. This is the reason why so many of us take no thought of the sweat shops incorporated so that we can wear our hip clothes and nikes. No one questions how many solders were killed to provide the gallon of gasoline to top off the SUV tank. Hardly anyone considers the hardships of illegal immigrants harvesting our foods. The problem is that we are so used to luxuries that they have become commodities. We are spoiled, but yet point to our neighbor as the culprit.
I am to blame. I hear myself rationalizing immoral things so I can be "happy." For example, I say to myself, "At least those sweat shops provide an income that would not otherwise be there," or, "Solders understand that they are going to risk their lives for my "freedoms." Luxury items do not bring happiness. I could do just fine with a pair of pants and a shirt... but will I give up my excess? Heck no. It is MINE. I deserve it. And why not? How dare anyone tell me to do something that is unnecessary.
Sorry if this all just a huge snowball of so many issues that lines are crisscrossed and nothing makes sense. I guess I am just trying to create thoughts within myself, or rather, ideas of how I can change. How I can change this behavior and ideology within myself. I feel like I have done nothing of substance to really give back to the world or this great country. I am thankful for everything I have. I hope that I have not made all of America look evil. We are the greatest country in the world because we are striving to become better, one individual at a time. That change might as well be started with me... I still don't know how, but I am sure something will come to mind.
Facebook... part II
Oh, I am loving part II of things right now.
I have mocked facebook. I basically called it stupid, and for that, I must apologize. This is not because of the film, that I have yet to see, this is because facebook is genius. As with all genius inventions there are some draw backs, but let's focus on what facebook has done.
Facebook has allowed every single one of us to become a detective. Ah, we are all apart of the justice system. I am not really talking about taking criminals down, although facebook has been used to smoke some bad dudes. I am talking about the ability to spy, to see what is really going on, and that is why is a thing of beauty. You used to have to ask people around for information. You used to have to wait for people to give you hints and guide you to what is behind closed doors. Now, with a click of button you have access to a grip of information. Sure you can put up security blocks and what not, but ultimately, if people want to find something out, they will. This all sounds creepy, but let's face it, almost all of us like spying. We like to know what we are up against. People always tease each other about facebook stalking. It really happens though. We make a joke out of it to try and hide the fact that is goes on. You see a cutie at school, you find out the persons name, boom you type it in and then it all comes out. Scary. Pictures are worth a thousand words, but it doesn't really stop there.
Comments create a bridge between the gaps which help to better understand the story that is really going on. Creeper status. I know, I know, but seriously, brilliant. The sad part is people usually expose who they really are without intending to. Like what I am doing right now....I didn't really intend on letting anyone know that I facebook stalk. Listen though, be hunted or the hunter. This is just one aspect of facebook. I am sure there will be a facebook part III post, in which I tear it apart, but for now, it is genius.
I have mocked facebook. I basically called it stupid, and for that, I must apologize. This is not because of the film, that I have yet to see, this is because facebook is genius. As with all genius inventions there are some draw backs, but let's focus on what facebook has done.
Facebook has allowed every single one of us to become a detective. Ah, we are all apart of the justice system. I am not really talking about taking criminals down, although facebook has been used to smoke some bad dudes. I am talking about the ability to spy, to see what is really going on, and that is why is a thing of beauty. You used to have to ask people around for information. You used to have to wait for people to give you hints and guide you to what is behind closed doors. Now, with a click of button you have access to a grip of information. Sure you can put up security blocks and what not, but ultimately, if people want to find something out, they will. This all sounds creepy, but let's face it, almost all of us like spying. We like to know what we are up against. People always tease each other about facebook stalking. It really happens though. We make a joke out of it to try and hide the fact that is goes on. You see a cutie at school, you find out the persons name, boom you type it in and then it all comes out. Scary. Pictures are worth a thousand words, but it doesn't really stop there.
Comments create a bridge between the gaps which help to better understand the story that is really going on. Creeper status. I know, I know, but seriously, brilliant. The sad part is people usually expose who they really are without intending to. Like what I am doing right now....I didn't really intend on letting anyone know that I facebook stalk. Listen though, be hunted or the hunter. This is just one aspect of facebook. I am sure there will be a facebook part III post, in which I tear it apart, but for now, it is genius.
Iced... Part II
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| Notice how my date is taking the picture? |
It is high time that I just come out and admit it. All I really write about is girls. Fine. That is what this blogs theme is. Some have the theme of pictures, others cleverness, or even political thoughts. Mine = girls. Sorry, young women. In a way, this is the theme of my life. I am searching for the woman of my dreams, one that I don't deserve. *Sigh*. Now, coming out and admitting that I am on this search may make some squirm. But it's the truth. I am done coasting. I want my life to move on. To enter a new chapter in my life... at least that I what I am saying now. And this is why....
Dating sucks. This is no new revelation to anyone who has attempted to progress in this game. Getting girls numbers causes me to get ubber nervous. First dates make me nauseous. Getting to know a stranger is a challenge. Then they end up being a dead end in a road, or worse, a hole in my heart. Cynical view, yes. There is truth to this. (Que the music, preferably some slow jams.) All I really want is a wife. There I said it. Someone I can confide in. Someone that will be on my team all the time (look at Edward and Bella----> AWESOME), rooting me on for success, and helping me through failures. Gosh dang, I want a woman that loves me for me. This sounds super dumb (and corny... super corny), but I want to be loved. And I, here we go, want to love some back. There, the cat is out of the bag. Let's move on, cause it got really weird just now.
Last week my buddies decide to plan a date night. Remember I am still in this happy go lucky "lets go on dates and just have fun". I ask a girl, Rose, she is pretty and is fun to flirt with. I ask her days in advance. She agrees to come to this date night. "Great," I think, "No pressure now. I have a date. No one will be jawing at me to get a date." It comes to the date night. She knows. There is NO doubt that she knows, we talked about it the day before, in class. I text her, just to open dialogue, to let her know when I will pick her up. Mistake, I know (see death by texting). No response. I decide she must be in class. I give it an hour. Then I remember my own personal experience with girls and texting. They ALWAYS have their damn phones and texting is retarded. I call her. Rings out. Hmmm. Weird. I put on the brakes. Let it go, let her figure it out. The time arrives, and nothing, not a peep, no smoke signal. She is pulling a Bobby Fischer, Magiver, wicked witch act, she is going to ICE me. At first I am pissed. My pride is hurt. Ego damaged. Self esteem bruised. Then, my homies come over....
I am chilling on the couch, eating some carb filled foods, shirt off, crumbs littering my stomach, watching a movie that reminds me of how a man should act in dire times: Gladiator. (Thank heavens for Russell Crowe.) Some of the crew rolls in and tell me their unsuccessful bid to get dates as well. I can't help but laugh and let the muscle in my body ease up. Blastoff tells me how this girl blows him off with homework. Then another doesn't respond to his text until its too late. I hear tibits about how some of the others got iced with LAME excuses, but The People's story takes the cake. He asks this girl. Not sure how he met her. Doesn't matter really. He asks her out. The day of the date, like hours till we are a 'go for launch', he gets a text. (See how dumb texting is! Just a way for people to avoid being real. UGH!) The texts something like, "Hey, I am kinda not single anymore." Um what? Kinda not single...? Within 12 hours of being asked out on date she is hitched. Shoot, I bet it was facebook official within minutes.
The night turns into just us brothers kicking it. Having a good time, like always. The next day I get a text. I hope by now you are disgusted with texting as much as I am. It is from...what is her name again...Rose. Ah, I had to scroll up to remember what pseudonym I gave her. That is how memorable I guess she is. Anyways, it is a long text.
"Hey, did you call me yesterday? I dropped my phone in the toilet. I couldn't see who was calling, the screen was black. I just got my replacement phone from Verizon...." I don't really remember the rest, you get the point. This alibi is full proof... Yeah, right.
I see some major holes in this story. If a phone is fully immersed in water, a toilet, it will not work. Water damage is fatal. I am a little surprised that it fell in a toilet. I guess I usually am on my phone doing all sorts of stuff near my open toilet. Texting. Calling. Just gaming it up. Sometimes I throw my phone in the air and catch it just before it hits the water. Really cool game. Like Russian roulette..... Wait, the screen was black. Yeah, cannot answer my phone if I don't know who the heck is calling me. The screen is BLACK! Then again, if the phone is working, why not call the dude who asked you out and let him know that you are going to stand him up? That is too considerate. Too classy. You have a reputation to maintain.... which is improving ever so much.
Let's give her a break. We are being too hard. The phone, if it did survive the fall to the poop bowl, may not have been able to make calls. She didn't know my number. Oops. She has roommates and friends that know my number. Huh. Another inquiry comes to mind, you just got a replacement phone... again, using a friend's phone to be polite is too much to ask. Verizon doesn't have rollover minutes. Too much to ask really. Just too much. Come on David. This is the 21 century. You are behind the time. Chivarly is dead. Being cool is old fashioned.
When I see her again I try not to show that I am a little put off by her lameness. I find it extremely interesting that she doesn't show me her "new" phone, and acts all awkward about it. She blushes and I have a slight hunch that she is lying. She looks too uncomfortable. I try not to probe. Then I ask... She says, "The replacement phone looks just like the old one..." I bet it does. All the same scratches and everything. Cell phone companies are trying a new thing. They are actually selling phones with scratches and normal wear and tear. Just like popular pants. Neat huh? I thought so. That is why I am going to get a iPhone that has a huge crack in it!
Do I believe her? No. Will I give Rose another chance? When Robin Williams changes his name to Jackass 3D. But David, that will never happen... I know. That is the point...
The Facebook Battle for the Kingdom of Kobe.
I found that copying and pasting the comments to my blog made it ugly. I suggest you view the continuous battle on my facebook page. If we are not friends, add me.
Was that a compliment?
When I was younger, my brother and his wife came home to visit us. I think it may have been a holiday of some sort. She had just given birth to her second child. It had been a while since I had seen her. I remember wanting to give her a sincere compliment. This is how it went, "Have you gained weight or lost weight? Cause either way you look a whole lot better!"
A rookie move. The situation is funny in retrospect, but how rude. No woman wants to even hear 'gained' and 'weight' in the same sentence; no woman. Then to say that either way she looked better - the audacity. Did she look like a victim of starvation or like Oprah? Neither, of course. Not until recently have I been able to really empathize with that situation.
Whenever I see someone I haven't seen for a while, they ask me if I lost weight. I say, "No, not really." Then they say,"Oh... cause you look a lot better. You look good. Fit." I instantly get a offended. Was I fat last year? I went to the gym like everyday.... thanks and cool.
You know what I mean. Like a compliment that seems to dig at you at the same time - a back handed compliment. A subtle hint that you have improved your awful, previous, self.
Here is one, "Wow! Did you get a hair cut?" -"No" -"Oh, it looks good." Maybe it is the words like 'wow' and 'oh' that make it seem bad. Like they were surprised, then disappointed that it wasn't an intentional change. The voice inflection gives them away.
"Are those new jeans? They look good on you" TRANSLATE: I am sure glad you have upgraded your wardrobe, cause you look like a slouch most of the time.
"You are smart" TRANSLATE: My first impression was that you are an idiot. I am so glad you proved me wrong.
A rookie move. The situation is funny in retrospect, but how rude. No woman wants to even hear 'gained' and 'weight' in the same sentence; no woman. Then to say that either way she looked better - the audacity. Did she look like a victim of starvation or like Oprah? Neither, of course. Not until recently have I been able to really empathize with that situation.
Whenever I see someone I haven't seen for a while, they ask me if I lost weight. I say, "No, not really." Then they say,"Oh... cause you look a lot better. You look good. Fit." I instantly get a offended. Was I fat last year? I went to the gym like everyday.... thanks and cool.
You know what I mean. Like a compliment that seems to dig at you at the same time - a back handed compliment. A subtle hint that you have improved your awful, previous, self.
Here is one, "Wow! Did you get a hair cut?" -"No" -"Oh, it looks good." Maybe it is the words like 'wow' and 'oh' that make it seem bad. Like they were surprised, then disappointed that it wasn't an intentional change. The voice inflection gives them away.
"Are those new jeans? They look good on you" TRANSLATE: I am sure glad you have upgraded your wardrobe, cause you look like a slouch most of the time.
"You are smart" TRANSLATE: My first impression was that you are an idiot. I am so glad you proved me wrong.
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