| But There's One Thing A Real Man Never Loses: His Pride. |
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| El Ranto |
[03 Feb 2006|01:04am] |
I conformed, and got myself a myspace... ONLY because Stephanie Fajardo from Ohio (fresno), Kansas, nebraska...where-ever... I mean... I know she lives on a farm, but that's it... whatever.... but anyway, she said it was "fun" and "addictive". I have yet to experience either, but I did do my best to find people I know who use it too (through the schools thingy... soces). My myspace name is xkingofguamx... cause, I could remember it that way.
1st complaint: My 56k connection makes browsing myspace take days. Days. I am now 21 years old, thats how long it took me to look for people I knew.
2nd complaint: I can't hear anyones music... again a 56k connection problemo... its all choppy... and then I see comments about "Isn't this song great!" or "I piss my pants every time I hear this song!" and also "HOLY SHIT, I would kill my own mother just to hear this song again!" And then, when I try to listen to it its all.... -pause-...-one guitar chord- -pause- And then I'M like... this song isn't so great. Fuck this song. Fuck Myspace.
3rd complaint: I don't like how Tom is automatically my friend. Yeah, I know he invented myspace or some shit. I don't care. I use a toothbrush twice a day, that doesn't mean I want the inventor of the toothbrush all like "Yo Anthony... I invented the fucking toothbrush man! So I am AUTOMATICALLY on your friends list." Hey FUCK YOU!
4th complaint: Lot's of people (all of whom will remain nameless) Have myspace lay outs and backgrounds... designed to kill people. "Oh wow, I didn't know this person had a myspace... let me see it." -click- -Pictures are just thrown all over the damn place, bright fucking-indigo colors burn my retinas- "Oh,... my god... what the fuck is going on?" -faints-
5th complaint: I get friends request from a few people I don't know. I add them, because I'm not a myspace-snob. But... who the fuck... are you?
And finally: There is an option to look for "serious" relationships on myspace? Come on... no... noway. Get the fuck out of here! Serious? Like... you wanna get married to some person you met over the internet because they like the same underground alternative rock band as you? Kiss my ass. Kiss. My. Ass.
Kay, done now. Need sleep. Winter session final tomorrow+Work+movie... Spring semester starts monday... The last semester at Pierce...
And I guess I'll mention that, other than the fact that I'm going to be the best staff writer for the school paper (like, officially) I've been put on the Dean's list twice in a row. Once more And I get some presidential award. I'm to fucking good for this school. Ready to move on.
Super Bowl Sunday! My team isn't there... but I like routing for the underdog.
All the pros are picking Pittsburg, but I'm gonna swim against the current and pull for Seattle.
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| Go for it. |
[01 Feb 2006|02:31am] |
My name:
Who is the love of my life:
Where did we meet:
Take a stab at my middle name:
How long have you known me:
When is the last time that we saw each other:
Do I smoke:
Do I drink:
When is my birthday:
What was your first impression of upon meeting me:
Do I have any siblings:
What's one of my favorite things to do:
Am I funny:
What's my favorite type of music:
What is the best feature about me:
Am I shy or outgoing:
Am I a rebel or do I follow the rules:
Do I have any special talents:
Would you consider me a friend/good friend:
Would you call me preppy, average, sporty, punk, hippie, glam, nerdy, snobby, or something else (what):
What is a memory we have once had:
Have you ever hugged me:
Do you miss me...do you think i miss you:
What is my favorite food:
Have you ever had a crush on me:
If there was one good nickname for me, what would it be:
What's your favorite memory of me:
Who do I like right now:
What is my worst habit:
If you and I were stranded on a desert island, what one thing would I bring?
Are we friends:
Will you repost this so I can do it for you?:
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[22 Jan 2006|09:09pm] |
81 points?!?! 81 points? HOLY FUCKING SHIT! That's like... like... 81! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! SHIT! Why? Why would god choose to send my lord and savior jesus christ back... as a basketball player? I just... I can't understand it.
And Yes, I understand Kobe is not really Jesus. Get a sense of humor.
81 points.
Love,
Anthony
ps 81 points.
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| Pictographs |
[24 Dec 2005|04:52pm] |
Member that wedding I had fun at? Here are some pics. Now off I go to enjoy xmas.
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| Good Day |
[20 Dec 2005|10:08pm] |
Today was a good day.
Took another final.... I only needed 7 of 100 questions to get an 'A'so... yeah. I'm a winner.
The Media Arts Chair at my school, told me that Pierce's best writer on the Roundup (the school newspaper) was leaving and that he hopes I join up with the paper because I can "easily (EASILY!) fill the position." Yeah, I know... it's only Pierce... I'm a big fish in a small pond... but ya know... it's better than being a retarded fish in a small pond. So far, I am superior to my peers. Excellent.
Finished my Christmas shoppin'. Spent more money than I have ever spent in my entire life buying presents.... eh... mixed feelings on that. On one hand, hurray, I'm generous... on the other... Fuck.... my money. But at least I'm done with that.
Kobe Bryant scored his career high tonight. At the end of the third it was Dallas MAvericks 62.... Kobe Bryant 63.... (the Lakers had a bigger total score... but Kobe had scored more than the entire Dallas team... for the slow people.)
I now have an official fan club (dont... DO NOT... ask. I'll just change the subject.) And apparently a website is in the works... (not sure on that)... it was a weird, yet rewarding phone call.
And now, the bad news. I am MOVING (as in, packing up mt shit and relocating to a new residence) on monday (the day after christmas). I sat down and thought about it... I have moved 12 times in the past 10 years (including my mums and dads houses).... I have made a promise to myself. When I have kids... I am going to own a house, or a nice condo... or something... that they get to GROW UP in... and have memories of. This is ridiculous.
Hey, Bitches.... Merry Christmas. Happy Hannakah (sp?) and... uh, Merry/Happy Kwanza? I would wish my muslim peeps a great Ramadan, but thats already done and over.. plus... they starve themselves.... I have difficulty wishing them a merry mal nutrition.
If you would like to help me move, gimmie a call soon... I could use the help -begs, pouts- If not... call me after the 26th, I could use an equal amount of help having fun this winter.
I'm in a good mood. And it's not cause of the Holidays (though they help). I'm not sure if it comes across in LJ text.. but... well. God Bless Us.... everyone.
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[14 Dec 2005|01:46pm] |
http://aol.nba.com/standings/team_record_comparison/conferenceNew_Std_Div.html
Lakers need a win tonight... they're gonna be fighting for the 8 spot all season long. Luckily, they own Denver so far (current 8 spot)So the tie breaker goes to us. There is plenty of season to go, but if they pull it off... we could have three teams from Cali in the play offs (Clippers who rock this year, Golden State who is better than they usually are, And the Lake Show--- you can never count out a team with Kobe Bryant.)
In the more imeadiate future... the final three weeks of regular season NFL is on its way. These weeks usually shape what direction which way the playoffs are gonna go. (Cowboys are looking alright. Go Cowboys.)
In conclusion, I have decided to focus on sports and other bullshit then prepare for the up and coming week of finals. I mean... it's Pierce. If I study...A+... if I don't A-.... The difference between those two grades in the end? Nothing bitches.
"Oh but Anthony... try your best... you never know, if you don't study you might only manage a B."
Mannnnn, I don't care! FUCK!
What kills me is the people who have 4.0 GPAs and then go and argue with the Prof. for like, a one point mistake on their scantron, when they managed an A anyway. If I have to trade a 4.0 and being an unbelievable cunt... for a 3.65 and being a total non-goober.... I'll take it.
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| Hurray |
[04 Dec 2005|02:10am] |
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Wedding+Drinks+Anthony=Supa fun. I am tired, that is all.
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| Lakers Def. Nuggets |
[02 Nov 2005|10:55pm] |
Opening game in Denver... Kobe makes the winning shot in Overtime over mulitple defenders. Fuck the Nuggets! HA! Laker Season Baby! Everything else is secondary!
Note: Whoever caught that game is cool.
Also, According to some shit statistic I saw on ESPN, 52% of people see Kobe in a Negative light. While there is nothing negative about swishing game winning shots (IMO, anyway), thats fine with me.
Negative=Bad
Bad=Evil
Kobe=Evil
Anthony=Super Villain
Super Villains favor Evil
Anthony Favors Kobe
Slick Richard!
Night.
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| Dont read this Unless ... |
[01 Oct 2005|01:39am] |
Ok, consider this a disclaimer: This is a story I found on some guys web site. I find it hilariously disgusting. And it is disgusting... but hilarious. Don't read this entry if you are easily offended by: sex, toilet humor, or really gross shit. That being said... HA HA HA HA HA HA.
Check it out.
Tucker tries buttsex; hilarity does not ensue
I spent the summer between my 2nd and 3rd year of college suckling on the parental teat in South Florida. It was the absolute prime of my “do anything to get laid” phase. I was recently freed from a 4-year long-distance relationship that began in high school and I wanted nothing more than to have sex with as many girls as possible.
Most of the things I did that summer are not story-worthy; you can only tell the same, “I got drunk on Dom and fucked this hottie” story so many times before it gets annoying. That summer I experienced every random sex situation that a 20 year old can imagine: fucking on the beach, getting head from random girls in club bathrooms, sleeping with 3 different girls in a day, getting so drunk I passed out during sex, getting arrested for receiving fellatio in the pool at the Delano, blah, blah, blah…Jesus. What does it say about how fucked up my life is that I don’t consider these stories to be extraordinary anymore?
Anyway, while most of my stories may not be extraordinary for me, there is one very notable exception…
I was seeing one girl, “Jaime,” about twice a week. She was a fresh arrival to South Beach, having moved there 5 months ago from upstate New York as a 19 year old with a modeling contract. We met through a mutual friend who befriended her while they were shooting a TV commercial. Five weeks and lots of sex later, she thought we were dating. I knew better, but she was way too hot to bother correcting her assumption.
The ex-girlfriend of 4-years I previously spoke about was very sexually conservative. It was missionary in the dark and then straight to sleep, with maybe a blowjob on the weekends if she’d had a few glasses of wine with dinner (it was a high school relationship, I didn’t know any better). After four years of this, I was ready to experience all the things I’d missed out on (when I wasn’t cheating on her, of course).
Buttsex, known in the biz as “anal,” was one of these unknowns, and I decided that I wanted to try it. Jaime was the perfect partner: very hot and very sweet, and more importantly, very naïve and very open to suggestion.
She was reluctant at first, not understanding why we just couldn’t keep having normal sex, so I had to employ my persuasive powers:
Jaime “But…I’ve never done it.”
Tucker “I’ve never done it either; it can be our thing.”
Jaime “But…I don’t know if I’ll like it.”
Tucker “You won’t have to worry about getting pregnant.”
Jaime “But…I like normal sex.”
Tucker “Everyone’s doing anal. It’s the new black.”
Jaime “But…I don’t know…it seems weird.”
Tucker “It’s the preferred method in Europe. Especially with the runway models. Don’t you want to do runways in Europe?”
After a few weeks of this, she finally consented. Though she agreed to let me put my penis in her small hole, she extracted a promise in return:
“OK, we can try anal sex, but I want it to be special and romantic. You have to take me out to a nice place, like The Forge or Tantra, NOT one of your parent’s restaurants, and it has to be a weekend night, NOT a Monday. And you have to keep taking me out on weekends. I’m tired of being your Monday night girl.”
I made reservations for the next Friday at Tantra. Aside from being insanely expensive, Tantra is famous for having grass floors. Really; they put in new sod every week. They also advertise their food as “aphrodisiac cuisine.” Yes, at that point in my life, I thought these things worked.
Thanks to my father’s connections, I got us a corner booth in the grass room. She was quite impressed. I ordered like it was the Last Supper. No expense was spared. Two $110 bottles of merlot, veal rack, stone crabs, the Tantra Love platter--it was lavish and decadent. I was 21, stupid, and wanted to fuck Jaime in the butt; I wasn’t about to let a $400 tab get in my way.
By the time we left Tantra, this girl had doe eyes that made Bambi look like a heroin-chic CK model. She could not have been more in love with me. The entire drive back to my place she was rubbing my crotch, telling me how badly she wanted to me to fuck her, how hot I made her, etc, etc. We get back to my place and our clothes are off before we even get in the door. We collapse on the bed and start fucking. Normal vaginal sex at first, just like always.
Now, what she did not know, and what I have not told you yet, was that I had a surprise waiting for her.
[Aside: Before I tell you what the surprise was, let me make this clear: As I stand right now, 27 as of this writing, I am a bad person. At 21, I was possibly the worst person in existence. I had no regard for the feelings of others, I was narcissistic and self-absorbed to the point of psychotic delusion, and I saw other people only as a means to my happiness and not as humans worthy of respect and consideration. I have no excuse for what I did; it was wrong and I regret it. Even though I normally revel in my outlandish behavior, sometimes even I cross the line, and this is one of those situations….but of course, I’m still going to write about it.]
This was going to be my first time foraging in the ass forest, and I wanted to have a reminder of my trip, a memento I could carry with me the rest of my life…so I decided to film us.
I planned this beforehand, but I was afraid she would decline, so instead of being mature and discussing this with Jaime, I just made the executive decision to get it on camera…without telling her.
That alone is pretty bad. But instead of just setting up a hidden camera…I got my friend to hide in my closet and film it.
No really--I know that I will burn in hell. At this point, I’m just hoping that my life can serve as a warning to others.
I left my door unlocked and we arranged it so that around midnight my friend would go over to my place and wait until my car pulled in, and then run into the closet and get the camera ready. The top half of the closet door was a French shutter, so it was easy to move the slats and give him a decent camera shot through the closed door.
By the time Jaime and I got to the bed, I was so drunk I had forgotten that he was filming this, and of course she had no idea he was there. After a few minutes of standard sex, she kinda stopped and said, all serious and in her best seductive soap opera voice, “I’m ready.”
I quickly flipped her over and grabbed the brand new bottle of AstroGlide I had on my bedside table.
A week prior, after Jaime consented to buttsex, I realized that I didn’t have any idea how to do it. How exactly do you fuck a girl in the ass? Luckily, I had the world’s best anal sex informational resource at my disposal: The gay waiter. I consulted several gay waiters who worked at one of my parents restaurants about the mechanics of buttsex, and each one recommended AstroGlide as the lubricant of choice. Much to my dismay, I learned that spitting on your dick is not enough lube for buttsex. Stupid, lying porn movies.
The other important piece of advice I remembered was from Calvin, “Make sure you use enough, because if this is her first time, she’ll be especially tight, and it might hurt her. Use enough to really loosen her up and go slow until she gets used to it. Then it’s smooth sailing from there.”
Well, since some is good, more is better, right? At 21, this seemed logical.
I opened the cap, crammed the bottle top into her asshole, and squeezed. I probably emptied half of the 4-ounces of AstroGlide into her. I have since learned from homosexuals that a 4-ounce bottle usually lasts them about 6 months. So yeah--I overdid it.
But Tucker Max wasn’t done. Oh no, after depositing enough grease in her to run a Formula One racecar, I dumped half of what remained onto my cock and balls, really wanting to lube up because I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable.
Really--consider my thought process: I was going to fuck her in the butt and film it without her consent, yet I was truly concerned about her personal comfort. Sometimes the contradictions in my personality even amuse me.
Predictably, I slid in with ease. She was a little tense at first, but with an Exxon Valdez size load spilled into her poop chute, she quickly loosened up and got into it. I liked it also; it had a different feel to it. Not as good as vaginal sex, a little grainy, kinda tight, but still very nice.
Before I knew it I was fucking her like the apocalypse was imminent, burying it to the hilt with impunity. After a few minutes I was ready to come. My urgency was expressed in my tempo, and I began really jackhammering her. As the excitement got the best of me, I pulled out too far and my dick came out of her ass. I kinda scrambled to grab my dick and put it back in so I could finish off inside of her, but before I could even get a hold of it and put it back in her ass, I heard a faint “psssst” sound and felt something wet and warm hit my crotch.
It was dark in the room (I was not smart or sober enough to leave the lights on for the camera), so after I looked down it took me a few seconds to realize that my dick, balls and groin area were covered in a viscous black liquid. I stopped moving and stared at my strangely colored crotch for a good 5 seconds, completely confused, until I realized what happened:
“Did you…did you just…shit on my dick?”
I reached down to touch the liquid feces, still in complete and utter disbelief that this girl shot explosive diarrhea on my penis, when, without warning, the smell hit me.
I have a very sensitive nose, and I have never been more repulsed by a smell in my life. The combination of synthetic AstroGlide and rancid stench of raw fecal matter combined to turn my stomach, which was full of seafood, veal and wine, completely over.
I tried to hold it back. I really did everything I could to stop myself, but there are certain physical reactions that are beyond conscious control. Before I knew what I was doing, it just came out:
“BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH”
I vomited all over her ass. Into her crack. Into her asshole. On her ass cheeks. On the small of her back. Everywhere.
She turned her head, said, “Tucker, what are you doing?,” saw me vomiting on her, screamed “Oh my God!,” and immediately joined me:
“BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH”
Watching her throw up on my bed made me vomit even more. Her vomiting all over my bed, me vomiting on her ass, the next step was almost inevitable.
I heard the loud CRASH first, turned to see my friend break through the shutters and rip the closet door off as he, the video camera, and the door tumbled out of the closet and crashed onto the floor next to us:
“BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH”
The memory of the 2-second span where all three of us were vomiting at once is permanently seared into my brain. I have never heard anything like that symphony of sickness. It was like something out of the old Pink Panther movies.
I think the crowning moment was when my eyes locked with Jaime’s, I saw her moment of realization and then her quick shift from shock and surprise to complete and irreparable anger. Between bouts of hurling she flipped out:
“OH MY GOD--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--YOU FILMED THIS, YOU ASSHOLE-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH-- HOW COULD YOU-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--OH MY GOD-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--I LET YOU FUCK ME IN THE ASS--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH.”
She tried to stand up, slipped on the huge puddle of backflow AstroGlide on the bed, and fell into both my pile and her pile of vomit, covering her body and hair in vomit, shit and anal lubricant. She flailed on the bed for a second, grabbed the top sheet, wrapped it around her, and started running out of my place. Still naked and retching, my dick covered in shit and oil, I followed her as far as my front door.
The last contact I ever had with her is the image I witnessed of her in a dead sprint, a
shit, vomit and grease stained sheet stuck to her body, running from my apartment.
POST-SCRIPT:
The camera we used was one of those old fragile ones that filmed onto a VHS tape, and when he crashed out of the closet, the tape recorder and tape broke. It didn't occur to us at that the tape records the images magnetically, and we could take the actual tape itself and get someone to put it in another holster until after we had thrown it out. I know it seems stupid now, and believe me I kick myself about it everyday, but you should have seen the apartment afterwards--the tape was not a high priority. AstroGlide, shit and vomit covered EVERYTHING.
I had to rent one of those steam cleaners, buy a new mattress, and I STILL lost my deposit. It was impossible to get the smell out. The next month was like living in a sewer. Every girl I brought back to my place after that refused to stay there, and some even refused to sleep with me anywhere because of how my place smelled.
What I never found out, and I still want to know, is how the girl got home. I never heard from her again, and the mutual friend who introduced us called her but didn’t get her calls returned. I never heard anything about her or from her again, even though she left her clothes and ID at my place (she wore a tight dress out that night, and didn’t bring a purse or any money with her).
Can you picture that scene? What did she do, hop in taxi? Wave down a passing car? Get on the bus? She lived at least 30 miles away, there is no way she walked home. It perplexes me to this day.
I'm hoping she reads this. Maybe then I’ll find out how she got home.
.....
ok thats it. Could the story be fictionous? I dunno. But uh, "Did you... Did you just shit on my dick?" Will stay with me for several days.
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[19 Aug 2005|03:45am] |
I love my Nana. She went out of her way to have dinner with me. How often do grandparents do that? She's awesome. She paid for the food (FireStone Grill. Its pretty good, but I go there cause... come on... FIRESTONE! RESTAURANT OF BADASSES) Anyway, she gave me a hundred bucks just cause she loves me... which I really, really need. And then when I say "This is great, I can really use some gas, so I already know where some of this money is going!"
To which she says... "Oh dont spend it on that. Use my gas card, fill up your tank."
Free Meal, Hundred Bucks, Full gas tank... And the reassurance that even though Im 19, my grandma still thinks about me... and ways to make my life easier. I love her, she loves me, life got easier for this week at least. I always say how lucky I am, how things turn out for the best no matter what, cause Im just so damned lucky. BUT MAYBE, things go well for me cause Im a good kid, surrounded by a grip of family and friends who care about me. Whatever works.
No, but seriously, I'm lucky as fuck. And my Nana rocks.
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[02 Aug 2005|12:42am] |
kay, so I got sucked into doing this... so its my turn. Kinda fun actually
1. Reply with your name and I will write something random about you.
2. I will say something that only makes sense to you and me.
3. I will then tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
4. I will tell you my first memory of you.
5. I will tell you what animal you remind me of.
6. I'll then ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
7. Put this in your journal.
In other news: I. Am. A. Fucking. Genius. An evil one, but I still get credit.
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| Read this, please, bitches. |
[05 May 2005|01:44pm] |
A REALISTIC
ASSESSMENT OF
HOW MANY 12-YEAR-OLDS I COULD BEAT UP BEFORE THEY OVERTOOK ME.
BY MATT SCHWEIGER
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Your average 12-year-old boy is about 5 feet tall, weighs in the area of a buck-fifteen, and has developed little muscle mass.
I am 21, approximately 6 feet tall, tip the scales at an even 180, and have a moderately athletic and muscular build.
Judging on these statistics and what I assume would be a natural ferocity that would spring forth in a moment of physical danger, I estimate that I could beat up seven 12-year-olds before they overtook me. Of course, these would have to be the aforementioned average-sized 12-year-olds. Future linebackers, NBA players, and all Scandinavian children would throw off this equation. On the flip side, if these were some wimpy, four-square-playing, future-jockey 12-year-olds, I imagine the number would skyrocket to anywhere between 12 and 15. It's simple exponential math.
This is also assuming that my opponents are smart enough to organize themselves into a circular attack instead of coming at me one by one. If it were an individual, king-of-the-mountain battle royale, I could endlessly pummel 12-year-olds without mercy. But we're assuming at least a sixth-grade education in a marginal public school as well as some exposure to kung-fu movies, so these kids would form a circle.
However, using my quick wits, I would charge one portion of the circle, landing a devastating blow on the unlucky individual, which would make the others proceed with hesitancy. One on one, I feel like I could deliver a lot of punishment to a 12-year-old. There would be one or two brave ones who would jump on my back, distracting me and thus enabling the others to attack. At best, I could fight off the two heroes on my back and maybe take out four on the ground before I was felled by fatigue and numerous kicks to my groin and shins. This would equal a grand total of seven.
My friend Brian, who stands about 6 feet 2 inches and is stronger than myself, estimates that he could take down a dozen 12-year-olds. I find this hard to believe, but he has been in a fight with people his own age and is a little taller, making groin shots more difficult. Brian's reach is much longer than mine as well, which is a huge advantage. If you can land solid shots from a distance longer than the 12-year-olds' legs, there is no need to worry about groin kicks.
He says he would attack one portion of the circle in a fury, scaring off any would-be heroes who wanted to jump on his back and sacrifice themselves for the group. Then he would deal massive blows until fatigue and the inevitable groin shots brought him to the ground. I told him I'd give him nine or ten, but even for the above-average Brian, taking down a dozen 12-year-olds seems like a lot.
If it weren't for the law and my own morals, we could put these pressing questions to rest. Alas, these barriers still stand in our way.
I'm a pacifist anyway.
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[05 Apr 2005|02:50am] |
Sin City Rocked. Fucking Nancy whatever her last name is... with the hip movements, and the lasso.... Jessica Alba is figgity (fine).
"Sleep with me."
"I'm old enough to be your grandfather."
Dude... Bruce Willis.... just do her. Stop. Thinking. Do. Her.
Wrestlemania was more fun than I thought it would be. Especially at Staples Center in a FREE Suite. That was cool.
Im only upset cause my guy Randy Orton lost. Im not a huge wrestling fan, but they have like 60 different characters, so you're bound to relate to at least one... in some roundabout way. For the ill informed... he's the most "normal" guy on the show. Hes not a zombie, or a red neck, or a wrestling cop or any other village people persona... hes just a young dude, whos really arrogant and cocky and stuff. WHen ever he punches someone, or comes out to his theme music, or does anything good... rather than continuing fighting he does some kind of "Im the fucking shit" smirk and pose thing. It's cool
Hey!
Hey!
Hey!
Nothing you can say.
Nothing's gonna change what you've done to me.
Now it's time to shine.
I'm gonna take what's mine.
Take what's mine.
-does the Randy Orton pose while everyone else cheers his opponent-
Bastards!
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[10 Mar 2005|08:18pm] |
Im going to Wrestlemania 21!
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha... wow.
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[07 Mar 2005|12:24am] |
Physicals Rock. Something about going to the doctor and being told "you're in excellent shape", rocks. For all my physicals from ages 15 to now, I've had all female doctors. Which is nice when it comes to the whole "turn your head and cough" part... ya know, to have a woman there instead of a dude: No big Deal or anything, just a preference.
The worst part? When I got to the fourth or fifth line on the vision test thingy with the letters. (I have 20/30 vision by the way... not terrible, but I'll never be an astronaut...awww)
"Okay Anthony, this letter?"
"Um, F?"
"This one?"
"C!"
"And this?"
"Er, F?"
"This?"
"Um, also... F?"
"F."
"F."
"F."
I must have answered F 6 times of 9 letters. The nice nurse walked over to me, put a single hand on my shoulder and said, "Baby... there were no F's"
"Oh. I see. Soooo....blind?"
"No, you're fine."
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| The Oscars are Boring. |
[27 Feb 2005|08:40pm] |
Series 1-8 | Created by andy and taken 14193 times on bzoink! | | [ series 1 ] | | Name | Anthony | | Birthday | 9/85 | | Birthplace | The Valley | | Current Location | The Valley | | Eye Color | Brown | | Hair Color | Brown | | Righty or Lefty | Righty, though my Left is badass too | | Zodiac Sign | The Virgo: organized, calm, but unconfident.... right. I'm like the Anti-Virgo. | | Font | Guh? | | *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* | | [ series 2 - your favorite ] | | Music | Anything I can dance to, bitches. | | Cartoon | Aqua Teen Hunger Force: Number 1 in the hood, G. | | Color | Red n Black. | | Car | Batmobile | | Slushy Flavor | Coke | | Magazine | Maxim | | TV Show | Chappelle(sp?) Show | | Song at the Moment | When The Last | | Language | English | | Spice Girl | Posh, dur. | | Food & Beverage | Tacos and Pepsi. | | Subject in School | This semester? English 102. | | Weekend Activity | Sleeping. | | Frozen Yogurt | Peanutbutter | | Roller Coaster | X, six flags | | *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* | | [ series 3 - what is ] | | Your most overused phrase | "Slick." "Ah, what the fuck.... is going on?" | | First thing you thought when you woke up | "I gotta go to work... fuck." | | Last image/thought you go to sleep with | -smirk- | | First feature you notice of opposite sex | Depends on what angle Im looking at them from. | | Best name for a Butler | Max | | Wussiest Sport | Cricket... or Crochet... or something British with a little stick. | | Your best feature | Indomitable Will. | | Your greatest fear | Quitting before I die. | | Your greatest accomplishment | Beating High School. Being the best. | | Your most missed memory | Sitting at Center Circle, chillin. | | *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* | | [ series 4 - you prefer ] | | Pepsi or Coke | Pepsi, fucker. | | McDonald's or Burger King | guh... neither. | | Single or Group Dates | Single... group dates sort of ruin the oppurtunity to.... play chess. Unless you're into.... group.... chess. | | Adidas or Nike | Nike is the Greek God of Victory... thats badass. | | Chicken nuggets or Chicken fingers | Fingers! | | Dogs or Cats | Dogs! | | Rugrats or Doug | Doug! | | Single or Taken | Single, more or less. | | Monica or Brandy | Brandy | | Tupac or Jay-Z | Tupac, come on, thats not fair to Jay-Z. | | Shania Twain or LeAnn Rhymes | bleh | | Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea | bleh | | One pillow or Two | uh... four. | | Chocolate or Vanilla | Chocolate, WHOA! Lets not even compare the two. | | Hot chocolate or Hot cocoa | ...theres... a difference? Man... | | Cappucino or Coffee | I don't drink that shit. | | *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* | | [ series 5 - do you ] | | Shower everyday | YEAH! | | Have a crush | YEah! | | Think you've been in love | *think*?... sure. | | Want to go to college | a real university soon, Pierce is garbage. | | Like high school | I did | | Want to get married | eventually | | Type correctly | most of the time | | Believe in yourself | More than I should | | Have any tattoos? Where | I have the genie from ALadin... on my ass. NO! | | Have any piercings? Where | no | | Get motion sickness | no | | Think you're a health freak | no | | Get along with your parents | Yup. | | Like thunderstorms | VERY much. I wake up to listen to them sometimes. | | *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* | | [ series 6 - the future ] | | Age your plan to be married | shiiit. younger than old. | | Number and names of children | 2... Names...eh, who knows. Anthony Jr for the Boy, maybe? | | Where will you be at age 20 | ok... this sruvey was made for little kids. Im not sure where I'll be...7 months from now. | | Dream wedding | Summer, Spring... I dunno... the nice part in a church... the fun part outside. | | How do you want to die | In my dreams? Saving the world, going out like a hero or something. But, what I'd probably be more comfortable with? Warm in bed, an old ass man. | | Dream job | Editor n Chief of a big shot magazine (Music, sports, entertainment... any will do) | | Country you'd like to visit | Japan. | | *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* | | [ series 7 - opposite sex ] | | Best eye color | Brown | | Best hair color | Brown | | Short or long hair | depends on the shape of the head, come on, lets be smart here. | | Best height | Short.. I wanna be able to throw her around | | Best weight | not too tiny, I still want to be able to chuck her across the bedroom if I want... but ya know.. have something there. | | Best clothes | easily removable ones. | | Best first date location | My room. | | Best first kiss location | My room. | | *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* | | [ series 8 - other ] | | Last time you slept with a stuffed animal | Decade... maybe. | | Rings before you answer the phone | .... yes? | | What's on your mousepad | blue. | | How many houses you've lived in | ..... EASILY over 10 | | How many schools you've gone to | 4 | | Bedroom carpet color | the normal, whitey-grey kind. | | Shave your head for $5,000? | I used to do it for free. HELL YES! | | Stranded on a desert island. Take three things. No people | Im not gonna be a smart ass and say "a boat, DAR! HAR! HAR!" Sooo: A big ass knife, T-Mobile Sidekick, and a book. When I get bored... I text message a friend to save me. | | Best time of your life so far | shit... fuck that. None of yer buisness. | Create a Survey | Search Surveys | Go to bzoink! |
P.S.
Beyonce has some big ass ears.... leave your hair down, bitch! DOWN!
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[13 Feb 2005|10:36pm] |
Let me explain to you how much I love my brother, Elijah.
Ahem.
So my job is NOT fun, and on Sundays I get to do it for seven hours... which me drives me fucking Bat Shit. Like, by the time its over... Im totally in Bad Mood Mode... and, if you know me, thats not a good place for me to be. So I walk inside my house, take a step into my room... and all of a sudden, the radio at full blast:
"Callllllifornia loooooooove! Now let me welcome everybody to the wild, wild west..." (And I could continue with that song... but I think even those of us who have never heard of Tupac and Dr. Dre... know California Love... cause duh, We're all in SoCal bitches.)
So the song is fucking.... BOOMING. Elijah and my cousin Gary were having a... er, dance off, aparently... you know... like... a duel.... but with dancing. I walk in... and the first thing ELijah says is " Uh-oh, Anthony... come get served."
To which I reply.... "Scuse me Bitch?" as I take of my shirt "I dont think you know... who you're fucking with... but you.... ARE... going to find out."
My brother does the robot. I pop and lock a little bit. He does his "break dancing" (which is him just... having some kind of... mental disorder.). And I counter with a hand stand into some kind of akward roll.
We decided that it ended in a tie.
But shit man... I'm ten years older than him... and my brother is slowly turning into one of my best friends. He's gonna be so slick as a teenager... I mean, damn: Nine years old... already challenging guys like me to dance offs to the tune of California love? My goofy-ass Brother ROCKS!
-Big Bruddha Ant
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[07 Feb 2005|03:24pm] |
first day of Spring Session! Astronomy looks interesting, but it better be... fucking book.... cost me a grip of money. I still have to get my Stat book, and whatever Im going to need for English 102. *sigh* Fucking books. Looks like I wont be spending money on food for awhile. FUCK! On the bright side, I got an A in my Anthropology class. Which brings my overall college GPA to 3.4.... which isn't bad, not to shabby, ya know? Im not just another gorgeous face, Im pretty smart too, fuckers. Anyway, after I took my final in Anthro, I found a note on my car. See my buddy Max, took the class too, he finished the final first and left me this:
"That final was Cake, Nigga... CAKE!"
Oh MAx... you racist prick. j/k.
Anyway, whoever gets along to reading this, especially my college buddies I havent talked to in a long time... let me know how you're doing. I know we're all bunch of fucking super-brains and shit... so, yeah....
....
....
That final WAS like cake.... nigga.
-Anthony
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[02 Feb 2005|09:23pm] |
So Im taking out the trash at about 8:4something tonight... and this homeless guy with a shopping cart full of trash bags strolls by... you've seen the type... He talks to me, which alone, throws me off balance a bit:
"Mind if I go through your recycle bin?"
"Guh, well, I'm not really gonna make an effort to stop you, so..."
"Hey, HEY! I didnt ask for the lip!"
"..."
"Did you Hear me?"
So Im thinking, this guy has got to be drunk... maybe just crazy... probably both.
"I'm gonna go back to my HOUSE now... indoors..."
"Huh?"
"Enjoy your trash."
To which I jogged up my little hill/driveway. I watched him from my window... after all that, the bum didnt even look through my cans, and bottles, and shit! The whole ordeal was like... 20 seconds... but ya know... he was a crazy fuck.
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[30 Jan 2005|06:21pm] |
I got a new cell phone.
It has a camera on it.
I take pictures with it.
It's fucking sweet.
For my entire cell phone career, Ive always owned the big-ass piece of shit kind of phone.
My cell phones... often resembled enormous erections in my pocket... *shrug*.
Now, I got the good shit.
It even goes on the Internet!
Spring Semester starts soon.
Boooooo.
I've been working a lot lately.
I gots like, a thousand bucks, sitting in the bank!
But what about your car payments Anthony?
Well, its been about two months... and the car guys forgot about me.
One more month or two without word from them, and I figure I'd have officially stolen this car from those bitches.
HA!
Could I be any cooler? Maybe, but thats crossing the line from "cool" to "unapproachably cool". And Im a pretty down to earth guy... so..
-Anthony
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