Random Escapade with Amy and Cat

Waiting forever for the kind waiter to call our table so that we may sit and enjoy the deliciousness of his sushi, we decided to go and walk over to the handy hardware store of ACE. On a previous escapade there, we had discovered a most precious treasure. In one of the corners in a far away aisle were these plungers. But they weren’t any ordinary plunger, these were to fancy to be called ordinary. Extraordinary plungers might do them justice, but the reason why these tools of doodoo were so awesome was because their handle was shaped like a huge spiral dildo; a giant huge clear spiral dildo. And because no one would believe us, seeing how it sounds as if it came out of some horrible porn story, we needed documented proof, we needed pictures. So we headed over to the magnificent plungers and started to take pictures of them, when a kindly old lady came up to us and said, “I love those things. They are so great, but I LOVE the big black ones better,” as she pointed to a huge big black plunger. Then she continued on how the big black ones did the job so much bigger because they were wider and longer and created a much better suction. Then comparing the big black ones to the smaller white ones, she stated the white ones just can’t do it like the black ones. Amy, Cat and myself, were trying to hold in the laughter while blocking any mental images of a little old lady with…. Oh my god the images are back!!!!!  The End.

Roomates = Something...something...

Roomates….Ah yes roommates, the word makes no sense cause you don’t really mate with your room, but still the word implies that there will be sex and in some way it involves the room. Anyways that comes in later. For now I will tell you about my twisted string of roommates from numero uno to some bigger number.

Moving into the dorms is a nerve-wrecking task. Feeling so utterly alone, being surrounded by people you hardly know, moving heavy shit upstairs, and being forced to move in with a complete stranger who could possibly be the anti-christ. No, I wish this upon no one. Yet apparently it is good for us and apparently they match us up with people we should get along with by this tiny little sheet that asks name, ethnicity, and interests. This is how I think they process goes.

Name: Oh his name is Matthew Eduardo Vega….. turn the letters into numbers and that adds up to 42… that’s my lucky number! So I add 42 plus how many shits I took today and that puts him with this guy.

Ethnicity: I see he’s half peruvian, wait, no it says he is also a quarter Mexican, lets just call him Mexican…Mexican’s pick vegetables, vegetables are good for you…I got it…He needs to live with a die hard republican, because republicans show minorities their place in this big world. Show this Mexican’t the light!!!

Interests: Hmmm. He wrote some stuff down….so he likes stuff…… and so does this dude……Pot, booze, and porn kinda rhymes with what he wrote: “I want a quite dorm” Sweet match made in heaven!

Yeah life sucked living in there. So loud, so much pot, so much booze, and so much piggish disgusting living. But hey republicans live this way, and so should you. Not really, just being sarcastic. Well yeah I love it when your roommate doesn’t have class till 3 in the after noon and so stays up till 6 in the morning doing nothing but being a limp dick unless his girlfriend was in there trying to spring life into his useless limp libido. And so god showered me with his love and broke my ankle. Which being on the third floor with no elevator during the rainy season allowed me to move. Thank God.

New roommates where these two Sikh Indian dudes. I really got along with the short and quiet one with the accent because he wasn’t a loud mouthed cocksucker who thought he was Allah’s gift to myself, short Indian dude, and all women. God damn he was one ugly motherfucker. Sorry if I sound a bit mean or angry, its just that a lot of tension rests here and I’m finally getting it out. Shouted, bashed on gays and all minorities, licked his balls when we weren’t looking, and blamed me for his bad grades because he couldn’t see all of my answers during the math tests. The one good thing about him was he was very clean, and loved cleaning the bathroom. I think he used his tongue to clean the toilet….and shower drain….damn dirty bastard.

Last year was the worst…….got stuck with a damn evil satan devil who manipulated his way through life like a snake… a very manipulative and snakey snake. Complete with forked tongue and everything. He wanted to leave and replace himself with a guy who couldn’t pay rent, smelled like ass 24/7 and also raped his mentally challenged sister. Real winner those guys.

And finally this year, I finally got it right. We got four guys who had horrible roommate pasts and stuck them altogether. All very different, yet we all work together. Its seriously like a fucking sitcom. You got your big funloving, but heart stricken black dude, the wise and suave gay dude, the totally innocent but breaking out of it dude, and me the artsy party dude. I love these guys, and they’ve become a pseudo family in such a short time. Thank god I finally got it right.

Moral: Leave your roommate info sheet blank. You’re more likely to get placed accordingly.

Ok this is just an experiment that I hope I can keep on going. And now I introduce you to the Story of Matthew Vega and the Brave but sometime Dirty Lil' Toaster... *CHEEEEERSSSS*

I was wondering, does writing dark stupid poetry about how no one loves you or how all you know is death and decay really make anyone feel better? If so, then gothic people should be the happiest people on earth, yet they're not. In fact they are quite stupid. Anyone who breeds a culture out of death, sorrow, and moping around one's basement is a complete moron. Please take your moldy encrusted head out of your ass and realize that life is short, no need to make it stupid. Anyways, what I'm trying to do is create a story about life that shows morals, truths, and values, yet without destroying people's minds in the process and also without offending too many cults, I mean religions. Ahem... This story was going to be about a dynamic character that knew everything and could see into the hearts and minds of people and inevitably disect humanity perfectly in about 15 pages. He would also have a sidekick who was goofy, too the extreme, and supplied the intent reader with bursts of comedic relief, so that no one was too far lost into the book. Then I realized I, as an author and a person, know very little if anything at all. I am a complete, and utter, moron with the amount of life experience that could fill up ¾ wait no 7/8 of a small whiskey bottle that my friends keep in their “party bag” which has been denoted Vega's bottle for all those parties we have. Oh yes, those fun and sexy parties that we have. But back to my moronicy (??? not sure if even a word). Because of my lack of wisdom, there would be no way in which I could fantastically procur a decent perfect character, and so I do what I can. I will write a story about my life, not because I am self centered, but because it is what I know the most about, even though I am not completely 100% sure I know it that well myself. And for the facts that I forget, they will be filled in with factual details provided to me by the self reading palm test, which can be found here (shit I lost link). And without further ado I begin my story. As all non-great stories begin, so to will this story begin........ IN THE BEGINNINGS OF MANKIND, A CHILD WAS BORN AND HIS NAME WAS MATTHEW!!!!!! HE DID WONDERFUL THINGS FOR MANKIND AND MANKIND LOVED HIM FOR IT. THOUSANDS OF YEARS LATER ANOTHER CHILD WITH THE SAME NAME (along with about a million others) WOULD BE BORN AND WOULD HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS CHARACTER. And so begins the story of Matthew Vega and the Brave but sometimes Dirty Lil' Toaster.

Kids Games

I have come to realize that kids games are so much better played as adults. King of the hill, hide and seek, even Candyland. I mean as a child you could never understand that Lolly is a cock sucking whore, same thing with Grandma Nutt. Mr. Mint and Lord Licorice are totally a couple, Princess Frostine is a frigid bitch. And the worst of all, King Kandy, why didn't they just name him King Karl Kandy and give this candy pushing pedophile the racist crossburning rights he deserves. And then there is Chutes and Ladders, or should we call Adam and Eve's demise, with all those serpents, and the end goal having the two do it. Off of board games, playground games are so much more fun today than they were when I was five. King of the 15 foot hill made of rocks and dirt in the construction zone is awesome. Where else can you through your friends safely off a small cliff and have them live or pile drive someone into so nice soft rocks. I highly recommend it. Or hide and seek in a park at midnight, complete with bums, romantic couples, shoot out's, and cops. I know they didn't have that when I was in kindnergarten. This is why we must not think we are too mature for childish games, because if you do, you will be missing out on some of the greatest fun this world has to offer. The best part is if you get the bums to play too......The End......

Accident Prone......hahaha pron.......porn....

Attention span is something I know I am lacking. No matter what I'm doing, the mind wanders off somewhere random and uneventful. My body still makes the motions of one whose attention is fully raptured in the moment, yet I would have no idea what the hell you were talking about for the past fifty minutes. I could tell you about the commercial with the squirrel with huge nuts, or about my love/hate relationship with taco bell....damn them for making such a perfect quesidilla, but why can't they ever remember my fucking cinnamon twists? Its not that hard a fucking deal, come on, it's like the only desert they have! Anyways, this short attention span gets me in huge problems, mostly of the physical type. Ever since I was young, I have constantly put my life in jeopardy because my mind just can't stay on track. For instance, I was six years old, I had finished a tee-ball game (go Oriols) and I was so intent on my delicious orange flavored popsicle, OH how delicious it was! Teetering on being considered ambrosia. I guess I didn't notice the adults start their softball game or the ball one of their shitty players had accidently through directly into my temple. That was a bad day. If only orange popsicles weren't so delicious, I could have had one less concussion to call my own. Next major injury came because of the sky. Ever since I was young, I loved looking at the sky, and if there was anything of any interest in there, I would be hypnotized completely. Well I was playing soccer with my recreational team on a decently muddy field and I remember running for the ball, looking up in the sky, seeing a large bird, then looking down to see that my leg had begun to bend in the most horrible direction possible. I really do miss my ACL. The latest injury was incurred because some asses are just to jiggly. Jiggly like jell-o, and I am a man who loves his jell-o, just not asses made out of jell-o, unless it truly was an ass made of 100% jell-o, green apple kind, none of this watermelon bull shit. It was the first day of hapkido class and the girl in front of me had such a jiggly ass, it was mind boggling. I was wondering what would happen if she sat down to hard, would she bounce, or make a squishy sound. And that's when I fell and fucked my ankle up so badly. So many people call me accidnet prone or unlucky, and I don't disagree with them. But i would rather blame it on genetics. My family has a long history of stupid accidents, broken finger because it was stuck in the path of numchucks, getting ear pulled from under a car, and then there is my little brother who has been in the er 12 times to get stitches. If only I had ADD, ha that spells add, I could get some meds to fix me.... The End.