To Kaftan Boy: My dear little boy, when I emailed you about the jersey shirt that you wore -- I was not bitter as you like to assume. I was merely disappointed with your ideals that you'd idolize a homophobic person. It is akin to idolize a rapist in Kobe Bryant. No difference, really. And you never responded. Such a bitter little boy, it took awhile for you to talk about it -- but to a wrong person. Learn to talk with me about it. It is no secret that I have friends on left, enemies on right -- and it is no secret that I also have friends in the middle. It is something that you, Kraftan Boy, do not want to acknowledge. Suit yourself.
To WILD4SURFING: I grew up in Hopewell, Virginia -- if you look at the map closely, there is Fort Lee nearby. There is several naval bases less than an hour away. I know what I'm talking about. And hell, I have three sisters whom I had to endure watching the soldiers on heat chasing after them. And trust me, the majority of 'em are ... what? Please write it down again? Speak slowly. What a fuck! They are idiots to start with. Good enough for some officers to tell them to shoot and pick up the carcasses. That's it.
And to that Stupid-But-Saved Girl: Yes, Virginia, there is a word for Baloney, you dumbfuck.
The whole point with my December 21st, 2004 entry was to instigate an interesting debate about this, that and there -- who gives a fuck about your daily stories in your household? I don't care if you got a letter from your aunt who has a gallstone! I do not give a fuck if your daughter had a diarrhea today! I do not give a fuck if your husband did not get hard-on today for you! I do not give a fuck if you got a menopause today! I chose you, WILD4SURFING, because you fit in the classic image: Conservative and religious nut. That's all. That's it.
Oooh, I'm scared that you're running to your friends who are in the Marines.
Tell me to get out of this country? Fuck you, this is my country. I want you to get out of here. I want you to sink in the fucking ocean. I am exercising my rights to speak my thoughts. If you whine, that is your fucking problem.
And Kraft Boy, too.
And guys, guys -- get a clue: My comments do not mean that I am bitter, angry man. It has nothing to do with it at all -- but like McFly once said, you guys only wanted to label me as a bitter, angry man as the means for you to feel better and look down at someone else who challenged you -- in her words, what an intellectual masturbation for you to use.
I'm done with your cries, rantings -- Kraft Boy and WildNSlut, you guys are pathetic.
To coin my good friend's phrase: SYL!
R-
Sunday, January 09, 2005
Saturday, January 08, 2005
Curious About Deaflympics?
If you are curious about the happenstances from Australian's perspective on 2005 Deaflympics, herself from Melbourne -- check Miss Delectable out for any interesting scoops within the biggest sporting event to hit in Melbourne in years.
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What Do I Think Of Anonymous comments?
Coward. Stupid. Bitter. Loser. And afraid of me. Guess what? You're still like that. Get yourself together and sport a gut to say it in my face or use your name. Or otherwise, I'll always win the arguments -- I'll always crush, manipulate and delete your comments.
R-
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What Kind of Blogger am I?
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You Are a Snarky Blogger! |
 You've got a razor sharp wit that bloggers are secretly scared of. And that's why they read your posts as often as they can! |
News Blah, Really
MIKEY WANTS YOU TO KNOW: Mikey IMmed me from Los Angeles to tell me to check out the article in NYPOST.com. I checked and was bit amused -- at least, Deaf 1, Hearing O.
DID YOU KNOW: My former roommate fed her housecat the uncooked pasta. One morning, I saw her struggling to eat the uncooked pasta. Not something that I would do to my own cat.
TENNESSEE VS. CONNECTICUT: Both women's basketball teams are the top-notch programs in the nation, its roster filled with High School All-Americans and each team still managed to find a way to *lose* three games before playing against each other today. Oh, yeah, Tennessee won 68-67 today over Connecticut. Geno Auriemma's 4 National Championship rings were stolen in Hartford.
FLYING WOMAN: Last night, I was walking to 145 Street subway station on Broadway, mind my own business -- then I felt a thunderous crash, I saw a woman flying on 149 Street intersection. It was bit confusing as I saw a car crashing on the protective shield for the center of the road -- but how the flying woman gets in the picture? I'm not certain. All I saw was a flying woman, then the cops arrived in seconds and quickly blocked us from viewing whether if she died or not. Only in New York, I guess.
MEN IN THE ARMED FORCES ARE DUMB: Apparently, I read Shane's tidbits and it was mind-boggling to believe that the Armed Forces would pursue something like this!
SMART TRIBES: In Andaman and Nicobar Islands, the government officials talked with the leaders of reclusive tribes whose all members survived the wrath of Tsunami, the leaders said that *all* members survived. The government officials asked how they did it? They declined to share the information and requested them to leave. Some stuff are made to be kept secret. Smart ones.
GIVE ME SNOW OR GIVE ME DEATH: Frankly, I'm sick of rains. It rained too frequently lately in Manhattan. I'm ready for some slushy snow already.
Cheers,
R-
DID YOU KNOW: My former roommate fed her housecat the uncooked pasta. One morning, I saw her struggling to eat the uncooked pasta. Not something that I would do to my own cat.
TENNESSEE VS. CONNECTICUT: Both women's basketball teams are the top-notch programs in the nation, its roster filled with High School All-Americans and each team still managed to find a way to *lose* three games before playing against each other today. Oh, yeah, Tennessee won 68-67 today over Connecticut. Geno Auriemma's 4 National Championship rings were stolen in Hartford.
FLYING WOMAN: Last night, I was walking to 145 Street subway station on Broadway, mind my own business -- then I felt a thunderous crash, I saw a woman flying on 149 Street intersection. It was bit confusing as I saw a car crashing on the protective shield for the center of the road -- but how the flying woman gets in the picture? I'm not certain. All I saw was a flying woman, then the cops arrived in seconds and quickly blocked us from viewing whether if she died or not. Only in New York, I guess.
MEN IN THE ARMED FORCES ARE DUMB: Apparently, I read Shane's tidbits and it was mind-boggling to believe that the Armed Forces would pursue something like this!
SMART TRIBES: In Andaman and Nicobar Islands, the government officials talked with the leaders of reclusive tribes whose all members survived the wrath of Tsunami, the leaders said that *all* members survived. The government officials asked how they did it? They declined to share the information and requested them to leave. Some stuff are made to be kept secret. Smart ones.
GIVE ME SNOW OR GIVE ME DEATH: Frankly, I'm sick of rains. It rained too frequently lately in Manhattan. I'm ready for some slushy snow already.
Cheers,
R-
Friday, January 07, 2005
In South Carolina ...
Last week, Mark paged me and asked me if I remembered the funny situation in South Carolina -- there were few, I asked him to elaborate. He said, "The cashier where we got the gas! And Erin is laughing at this right now." I burst laughing out loud. I remembered.
At the time, Mark paged me -- he was in Albuquerque with Erin, another great friend of mine. I was in Philadelphia when Mark reminded me of the "gas attendant" incident.
Two years ago, few months before I left for New York, it was Gallaudet's spring break -- I was working at an agency, Mark pleaded me to go with him to Atlanta and maybe to Myrtle Beach? I could not but eventually, Mark convinced me to go. I managed to get my boss to believe me that a relative of mine died in Atlanta. So off to Atlanta.
It was fun. Lots of drama in Durham and Atlanta. Then on the way to Myrtle Beach -- we stopped for gas in South Carolina near Augusta, Georgia. At that time, the papers were talking about Bush's ultimatum for Saddam Hussein, and that Congress approved Bush to use the Armed Forces to attack Iraq. The deadline passed, but nobody knew when Bush will order to strike. It was very tense moment for the world, I guess.
Mark and I stared at the white trash girl who worked as a cashier in a convenience store while we filled the rental car with gas, Mark asked me to ask her what she thinks of the whole Iraqi situation. I wrote on a napkin and hesitated to give it to her. Mark took it from me and passed it to her. She reads it carefully. Then stared at me, then Mark. Then wrote down.
We were expecting to read what she thinks of the situation -- but this was not what we expected.
"We must support Bush's decisions. He is our President."
Mark burst out laughing. I shot back, "Do you have a brain of your own?" Then we left the store.
All the way to Myrtle Beach, Mark and I would chat about things then added, "We must support Bush's decision. He is our President." We'd use her comments everywhere we talked, food, ocean, hotel, traffic -- we'd say "We must support ..."
Even at a restaurant, the waitress would be perplexed when Mark said, "We must support Bush's decision. He is our President!!!" in ASL to the waitress. I'd try to suppress my giggles.
That's how crazy we were during the break.
R-
At the time, Mark paged me -- he was in Albuquerque with Erin, another great friend of mine. I was in Philadelphia when Mark reminded me of the "gas attendant" incident.
Two years ago, few months before I left for New York, it was Gallaudet's spring break -- I was working at an agency, Mark pleaded me to go with him to Atlanta and maybe to Myrtle Beach? I could not but eventually, Mark convinced me to go. I managed to get my boss to believe me that a relative of mine died in Atlanta. So off to Atlanta.
It was fun. Lots of drama in Durham and Atlanta. Then on the way to Myrtle Beach -- we stopped for gas in South Carolina near Augusta, Georgia. At that time, the papers were talking about Bush's ultimatum for Saddam Hussein, and that Congress approved Bush to use the Armed Forces to attack Iraq. The deadline passed, but nobody knew when Bush will order to strike. It was very tense moment for the world, I guess.
Mark and I stared at the white trash girl who worked as a cashier in a convenience store while we filled the rental car with gas, Mark asked me to ask her what she thinks of the whole Iraqi situation. I wrote on a napkin and hesitated to give it to her. Mark took it from me and passed it to her. She reads it carefully. Then stared at me, then Mark. Then wrote down.
We were expecting to read what she thinks of the situation -- but this was not what we expected.
"We must support Bush's decisions. He is our President."
Mark burst out laughing. I shot back, "Do you have a brain of your own?" Then we left the store.
All the way to Myrtle Beach, Mark and I would chat about things then added, "We must support Bush's decision. He is our President." We'd use her comments everywhere we talked, food, ocean, hotel, traffic -- we'd say "We must support ..."
Even at a restaurant, the waitress would be perplexed when Mark said, "We must support Bush's decision. He is our President!!!" in ASL to the waitress. I'd try to suppress my giggles.
R-
The First Two Days of Deaflympics
G'Day,
R-
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