Hey guys, so I've been going through some rough shit. I may be crazy, I may be bipolar, I may even have ADHD despite my parent's protestations. I lost almost everything that mattered to me in 2011 and it's time for me to x out the curse of the coffin and bring The Sociopath back to my loyal readers so that they can get to know me--the real me.
Before I was born I had an uncle named Peter. Peter was a schizophrenic. I've been terrified my entire life that I may develop the disorder and not realize it, but thankfully my nurse practitioner convinced me today that that is not my issue and for that I was so happy that we couldn't help but hug each other.
Peter's body was found at the bottom of a waterfall. To this day it remains a mystery as to whether he committed suicide or thought he could fly. I don't know, my family doesnt know, but this one little question has caused a serious family rift that I can't bear. Families are blood and we have to love each other no matter what. No matter how Peter died, I'd like to dedicate this song to him:
Friday, February 10, 2012
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
A New Creation
I don't know what to name it yet so that's up to you. Any ideas?
It's not done yet. I still have to do a net pattern across the skin... now I just need to find a way to do that. I'm thinking hot wax and a hair dryer.
It's not done yet. I still have to do a net pattern across the skin... now I just need to find a way to do that. I'm thinking hot wax and a hair dryer.
Monday, April 4, 2011
A Perpetual Work In Progress
So today I got a new pair of jean shorts in the mail. I'm wearing them right now. When I tried them on for the first time I admired the faux-wear work those magical people at Levi's did. The waist was a little loose, but nothing a belt couldn't fix. Examining them in the mirror I looked down and noticed an auxiliary pocket. It was a completely different color than the rest of the shorts. At first I looked at it with disgust. It was a blemish on my new shorts, sticking out like a sore thumb:
Note the unfinished artwork in the background
Note the unfinished artwork in the backgroundI then realized that it was the perfect size and in the perfect location to keep a smartphone. Ohhhhhh. After getting over the initial shock I decided I liked the shorts enough to keep them and ripped the tag off my ass. "Waist: 38". That's when it hit me. The last time I'd bought a pair of almost the exact same shorts from the exact same website, I'd ordered the size 42. I probably could have fit snugly into the 40's, but I was content in my own depression, accepting that I would proceed to get fatter and even if they were a little too big now, they would fit just right if I kept things going the way I was.
Then the summer happened. It was my first time truly living independently. I had control over every aspect of my life, and the first thing that had to change was my diet. Interning at the Weekly Dig was a big push. Because of my hours and because I never really took lunch breaks, I learned how to go the first 9 hours of my day without food. Eventually it led me to a shitload of crash dieting.
Looking over at my closet (since the landlord never reattached the door I can still see everything inside) the first thing I always notice is that save for a single thermal shirt that never used to fit me, nothing hanging in there is more than a year old. I'm not only a different person than I was in high school, but I also have completely different clothes. Back in the old days my habit was to strategically wear baggy jeans and black t-shirts as a way of drowning my shame of my body in fabric. It didn't help. If anything, it only made matters worse. Looking at my wardrobe now I can see that while I haven't totally broken the black t-shirt habit (today the t-shirt I'm wearing is neon blue so suck it), the splashes of color in my closet tell me I've come a long way.
If this post sounds to you like I'm patting myself on the back or outright bragging, then you're probably not one of the people closest to me. Those who understand how my psyche works will see this as more of a public act of catharsis. I'm airing my demons for everybody to see. Since the new semester started I've been in an on-and-off depressive slump that I've only really told around 2 or 3 people about at this point. The jean shorts were like a jolt of electricity to my sternum kicking me out of it. When I looked down at that tag, then over at my closet and eventually at my own image in the mirror, I was reminded how far I've come. I'm not the same person I was four years ago. I'm NOTHING like the person I was eight years ago. I'm a beautiful mess. A perpetual work in progress.
But I see now more than ever the light on the horizon. As much as shit may bring me down (and believe me, my life, which a select few known individuals for some stupid fucking reason are jealous of, has a lot of that shit) I'm still one of the strongest people I know. I can take the roughest sucker punches life gives me and turn myself around the next day (thanks, Dad, I'll probably never be able to tell you how much you being such an asshole when I was little helped with this).
So now you can sort of put the pieces of the puzzle together and figure out why I haven't posted in over three months. But never fear, dear readers, because this perpetual work in progress is FUCKING BACK, and he still loves you.
Peace & Love,
-Rob
Then the summer happened. It was my first time truly living independently. I had control over every aspect of my life, and the first thing that had to change was my diet. Interning at the Weekly Dig was a big push. Because of my hours and because I never really took lunch breaks, I learned how to go the first 9 hours of my day without food. Eventually it led me to a shitload of crash dieting.
Looking over at my closet (since the landlord never reattached the door I can still see everything inside) the first thing I always notice is that save for a single thermal shirt that never used to fit me, nothing hanging in there is more than a year old. I'm not only a different person than I was in high school, but I also have completely different clothes. Back in the old days my habit was to strategically wear baggy jeans and black t-shirts as a way of drowning my shame of my body in fabric. It didn't help. If anything, it only made matters worse. Looking at my wardrobe now I can see that while I haven't totally broken the black t-shirt habit (today the t-shirt I'm wearing is neon blue so suck it), the splashes of color in my closet tell me I've come a long way.
If this post sounds to you like I'm patting myself on the back or outright bragging, then you're probably not one of the people closest to me. Those who understand how my psyche works will see this as more of a public act of catharsis. I'm airing my demons for everybody to see. Since the new semester started I've been in an on-and-off depressive slump that I've only really told around 2 or 3 people about at this point. The jean shorts were like a jolt of electricity to my sternum kicking me out of it. When I looked down at that tag, then over at my closet and eventually at my own image in the mirror, I was reminded how far I've come. I'm not the same person I was four years ago. I'm NOTHING like the person I was eight years ago. I'm a beautiful mess. A perpetual work in progress.
But I see now more than ever the light on the horizon. As much as shit may bring me down (and believe me, my life, which a select few known individuals for some stupid fucking reason are jealous of, has a lot of that shit) I'm still one of the strongest people I know. I can take the roughest sucker punches life gives me and turn myself around the next day (thanks, Dad, I'll probably never be able to tell you how much you being such an asshole when I was little helped with this).
So now you can sort of put the pieces of the puzzle together and figure out why I haven't posted in over three months. But never fear, dear readers, because this perpetual work in progress is FUCKING BACK, and he still loves you.
Peace & Love,
-Rob
Friday, December 10, 2010
2010: A Musical Retrospective
2010 marked a new beginning for me. At the beginning of the summer I began interning at the Weekly Dig and ever since I have been a critical machine--reviewing movies, music, books and whatever other scraps the Dig would throw my way. The only problem: I wasn't up enough on what music was out there. So I started opening my musical horizons over the summer, developing a big taste for electronica in the process. Where most years this list covers 10 of maybe 20 albums I've heard, this year my list comes out of a pool of about 200 albums from 2010 alone. So what did I like?
10. Spoon-Transference
With Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, Spoon got a little too up-tempo. It wasn't the same lo-fi groove I had come to love. Transference is the closest Spoon has come to recreating the greatness of Girls Can Tell. It may not be quite as good, but it's damn close.
Ass-Blowing Tracks: "Written in Reverse," "Is Love Forever"
9. Scissor Sisters-Night Work
Night Work is just about everything you would expect from the Scissor Sisters: disco, glitter and very very gay. I got a chance to see them perform a few of the songs live and they were flawless and raw. And I had turned 21 two days before... SO drunk.
Ass-Blowing Tracks: "Skin This Cat," "Any Which Way"
8. Two Door Cinema Club-Tourist History
It's not surprising that Two Door Cinema Club supported Phoenix on their latest US tour. Both bands make nonoffensive, oddly catchy pop songs that can appeal to metalheads and their Beatle fan parents alike. It may be saccharine, but if you have a lot of it it makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Ass-Blowing Tracks: "Come Back Home," "I Can Talk"
7. Crystal Castles-Crystal Castles (II)
Crystal Castles make the kind of music that you can't really appreciate unless you do drugs. They're loud, the bitch just screams things that make no sense into the microphone and if you have a migraine, they're your worst enemy. But in a way, Crystal Castles makes being obnoxious into an artform, and the album is so unlistenable as to become compulsively listenable. Sweet sweet bleeding eardrums.
Ass-Blowing Tracks: "Baptism," "Year of Silence"
.
6.) !!!-Strange Weather, Isn't It?
For me personally, Strange Weather is a bit of a letdown. It's definitely the weakest of !!!'s LPs. Of course, the only member left from the original lineup at this point is Nic Offer, so musically the shifts make sense. I almost excluded this album from the list, but after seeing most of it performed live, I now know that that's the only way to listen to !!!: with Nic Offer grinding his crotch in your face--makes the music WAY better.
Ass-Blowing Tracks: "Jamie, My Intentions Are Bass," "The Hammer"
5. Fol Chen-Part II: The New December
Not only does Fol Chen make weird, trippy, beautiful music, but their lyrics seem to directly describe my life. I actually discovered them when they opened for !!!--too bad I wasn't familiar with them at the time so that I couldn't really enjoy them to my full potential. One month after that concert, "In Ruins" was used during a sex scene on Weeds... awesome.
Ass-Blowing Tracks: "They Came To Me," "The Holograms"
4. Blood Red Shoes-Fire Like This
I discovered Blood Red Shoes the summer before moving to Boston and immediately fell in love. Not only could they rock, but they were hot as fuck. I got to meet those hotties and they're surprisingly awkward. This album has a lot to live up to and while not as good as its predecessor, there is not one weak track.
Ass-Blowing Tracks: "Keeping It Close," "Don't Ask"
3. Sleigh Bells-Treats
Sleigh Bells blew up this year. At first I wasn't really into them, but each song on this album grows on you. They're abrasive as fuck, sexual, and they rock. There's something about this album that makes you want to dry hump the closest person you can find. And to think that I discovered this band at the behest of my dental hygienist (really).
Ass-Blowing Tracks: "Infinity Guitars," "Riot Rhythm"
2. Operator Please-Gloves
Everyone has that one little band nobody knows about that they crush on. For me, that band is Operator Please. Gloves is so different from the band's debut, Yes Yes Vindictive, but it still works. Considering how young and adorable they are (albeit, they're growing up fast) it's surprising what great pop songs they can churn out. This band has never played Boston. If they never do, I will cry--a lot.
Ass-Blowing Tracks: "Volcanic," "Logic"
1. Holy Fuck-Latin
Words cannot describe what a goldmine I discovered when I downloaded Holy Fuck's 3 LPs. Their weird brand of computer-free electronica is like nothing else out there today. This is what music should sound like. This is ecstasy. This is music to take ecstasy for. Plus, I mean, KITTIES:
Ass-Blowing Tracks: "Latin America," "P.I.G.S."
Peace & Love
-Rob
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
My Own Personal Hell--Now With Benefits.
So I'm in Florida right now. Anyone who knows me knows that Florida is where I go to wrestle with my demons, drink with my parents and drive a Mercedes around like a yuppie prick.
My bedroom has a window but no sunlight. Usually when I'm down here this means a pitch black sanctuary where I can recharge after depriving myself of sleep in Boston. Not this trip, though. This trip there are going to be jackhammers in the building from 8am-5pm. Great. Feels like Boston already.
But I just found an upside to my own personal hell. I'm 21. This is the first time I will be allowed to drink in front of my grandparents without it becoming the subject of Cuban gossip.
Also, I just went to 7-11. Living in Boston, which is a bubble, makes you forget about the real world. Down here they can sell cigarettes and booze anywhere. Down here they still have Four Loko because it never became trendy in the first place. This state is so fucking behind on the times that it's a relief. It's like taking a time machine to 1999.
So I went to 7-11 and got carded. Unthought of in Boston. They actually care here? What the fuckitty fuck? So I had to drive back to my parents' condo in the slutty Mercedes convertible and grab my paper temporary license. Oh yeah, fuck you Boston for confiscating my New Jersey license. I blame this all on you.
So when I came back to the 7-11 with my shitty paper ID, I decided to go for the gold. They still have Four Loko and this is one of my last chances to drink some. So I did. Like 10 minutes ago. I'm not even halfway done with the can. Hiding how drunk I am from my parents for the rest of the day is gonna be fun.
My sister told me last night that she's read this blog... maybe this picture is a bad idea
I expect to go loko 4 dat loko for the duration of my time in Florida. I want to appreciate this toxic sludge while I still can. So thank you, Florida. Thank you for being so stuck in the past. Maybe living in a liberal state is overrated.
On second thought, it's really not. Get me the fuck out of here. I'm drinking Four Loko at 3 in the afternoon and blogging because it's the only thing I can do to keep from dying of boredom. Florida, you fucking suck.
My bedroom has a window but no sunlight. Usually when I'm down here this means a pitch black sanctuary where I can recharge after depriving myself of sleep in Boston. Not this trip, though. This trip there are going to be jackhammers in the building from 8am-5pm. Great. Feels like Boston already.
But I just found an upside to my own personal hell. I'm 21. This is the first time I will be allowed to drink in front of my grandparents without it becoming the subject of Cuban gossip.
Also, I just went to 7-11. Living in Boston, which is a bubble, makes you forget about the real world. Down here they can sell cigarettes and booze anywhere. Down here they still have Four Loko because it never became trendy in the first place. This state is so fucking behind on the times that it's a relief. It's like taking a time machine to 1999.
So I went to 7-11 and got carded. Unthought of in Boston. They actually care here? What the fuckitty fuck? So I had to drive back to my parents' condo in the slutty Mercedes convertible and grab my paper temporary license. Oh yeah, fuck you Boston for confiscating my New Jersey license. I blame this all on you.
So when I came back to the 7-11 with my shitty paper ID, I decided to go for the gold. They still have Four Loko and this is one of my last chances to drink some. So I did. Like 10 minutes ago. I'm not even halfway done with the can. Hiding how drunk I am from my parents for the rest of the day is gonna be fun.
My sister told me last night that she's read this blog... maybe this picture is a bad ideaI expect to go loko 4 dat loko for the duration of my time in Florida. I want to appreciate this toxic sludge while I still can. So thank you, Florida. Thank you for being so stuck in the past. Maybe living in a liberal state is overrated.
On second thought, it's really not. Get me the fuck out of here. I'm drinking Four Loko at 3 in the afternoon and blogging because it's the only thing I can do to keep from dying of boredom. Florida, you fucking suck.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Early Childhood: The Sex Stuff (part 1)
So Yeah, another month another single blog post. I'm an awful blogger and I understand this. But there is sunshine on the horizon! Now that I can write whatever the fuck I want on DigBoston.com, I'm going to be posting most of my stuff there in the future because it has a built-in audience. But never fear. I cannot leave the Sociopath with the leftover table scraps. No sir. So to kick off actually writing on this thing again I'm gonna write about something way too personal and just plain icky to share with all of Boston. In a new serial, I will be revealing my first glimpses at sex and its many wonders. Get your barf bags ready.
People generally think of me as a sexual creature. Not necessarily a perv, just someone who is pretty much always horny. How I got this way is anyone's guess (low self esteem in high school) but maybe it's because I saw my first vagina at 6. I mean okay, I guess technically I saw my first vagina the day I was born (eww) but this story involves a peer, so it actually counts.
Why the fuck am I writing about this?
So I don't remember this fine lady's name. It's unfortunate. Maybe this is why I keep all of this stuff written down for myself. But here's what I do remember:
1.) She was black
2.) She lived with her grandma
3.) Her grandma was white
4.) And this girl was too black to be part white
5.) All of this confused me a lot... I still don't know
Future employers are going to read this and throw my resume in the shredder.
So anyway, I'll just call her Binya Binya to clear up the confusion.
One day, Binyah Binyah and I started up a lemonade stand in her driveway where we sold urine-sample sized cups of Crystal Light to unsuspecting people. This wasn't on a very busy street so we had to get aggressive, running up to people getting into their cars in their own driveways with a cup of Crystal Light demanding sweet cash money dolla dolla bills.
We ripped people off something fierce. Our entire business model was built around giving something worthless to people and then looking cute enough to get dollars in return.
We made $13.
But when it came time to divvy up the cash, Binyah Binyah and I became resentful. Our business associates hadn't pitched in the lemonade (free from my house) or the stand (which was just a dresser waiting to be picked up by garbage men in front of Binyah Binyah's house).
Binyah Binyah and I fought with the girls. Threats to tell parents came into the picture. Money was distributed evenly.
Despondent, Binyah Binyah and I made our way back to her bedroom to think of what we could do with our $7 bounty. The next thing I knew, Binyah was talking sex things... naughty sex things.
The shock, the awe! And then came the phrase everyone hears at least once in their life "Show me yours I'll show you mine." She wasn't talking about my Power Rangers trading cards.
I was a curious child, so I agreed. She stood in front of her window. I stood by her door. The light shone intense through the window behind her.
1...2...3...
Pants down.
Remember how I mentioned that Binyah was black? And how there was a lot of light coming through that window? Well here's where it all comes into play. I looked. I looked and I saw nothing. Just the silhouette of a Barbie doll-like crotch outline...
We looked at each other's genitals perplexed. She for different reasons than I. What those reasons were, I will never know. When the pants came up, we sat down on her bed next to each other and she looked me in the eye: "So what's the big deal about those things anyway?"
People generally think of me as a sexual creature. Not necessarily a perv, just someone who is pretty much always horny. How I got this way is anyone's guess (low self esteem in high school) but maybe it's because I saw my first vagina at 6. I mean okay, I guess technically I saw my first vagina the day I was born (eww) but this story involves a peer, so it actually counts.
Why the fuck am I writing about this?
So I don't remember this fine lady's name. It's unfortunate. Maybe this is why I keep all of this stuff written down for myself. But here's what I do remember:
1.) She was black
2.) She lived with her grandma
3.) Her grandma was white
4.) And this girl was too black to be part white
5.) All of this confused me a lot... I still don't know
Future employers are going to read this and throw my resume in the shredder.
So anyway, I'll just call her Binya Binya to clear up the confusion.
One day, Binyah Binyah and I started up a lemonade stand in her driveway where we sold urine-sample sized cups of Crystal Light to unsuspecting people. This wasn't on a very busy street so we had to get aggressive, running up to people getting into their cars in their own driveways with a cup of Crystal Light demanding sweet cash money dolla dolla bills.
We ripped people off something fierce. Our entire business model was built around giving something worthless to people and then looking cute enough to get dollars in return.
We made $13.
But when it came time to divvy up the cash, Binyah Binyah and I became resentful. Our business associates hadn't pitched in the lemonade (free from my house) or the stand (which was just a dresser waiting to be picked up by garbage men in front of Binyah Binyah's house).
Binyah Binyah and I fought with the girls. Threats to tell parents came into the picture. Money was distributed evenly.
Despondent, Binyah Binyah and I made our way back to her bedroom to think of what we could do with our $7 bounty. The next thing I knew, Binyah was talking sex things... naughty sex things.
The shock, the awe! And then came the phrase everyone hears at least once in their life "Show me yours I'll show you mine." She wasn't talking about my Power Rangers trading cards.
I was a curious child, so I agreed. She stood in front of her window. I stood by her door. The light shone intense through the window behind her.
1...2...3...
Pants down.
Remember how I mentioned that Binyah was black? And how there was a lot of light coming through that window? Well here's where it all comes into play. I looked. I looked and I saw nothing. Just the silhouette of a Barbie doll-like crotch outline...
We looked at each other's genitals perplexed. She for different reasons than I. What those reasons were, I will never know. When the pants came up, we sat down on her bed next to each other and she looked me in the eye: "So what's the big deal about those things anyway?"
Sunday, October 17, 2010
No, Really, I'm Going Directly To Hell
So sometimes my friends and I get fed up of being nice to everybody. The reason I am close with some of these friends is because after a long day of being far nicer than we had to be, we just wanna get mean as fuck. And while having this conversation today, I realized we can get pretty fucking mean. But in a fun way. We don't mean any of it... sort of.
For the sake of decency, we're gonna call the subject of our conversation Moppypuss.
[9:37:21 PM] Rob: sluts like Moppypuss need to start doing anal
[9:37:29 PM] Billy: HAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAH
[9:37:29 PM] Billy: EW
[9:37:36 PM] Rob: these cleaveland steamers won't apply themselves
[9:37:53 PM] Billy: her crotch is probably a breeding ground for all sorts of microbiology
[9:38:12 PM] Rob: the found the primordial ooze... in Moppypuss's vagina
[9:38:19 PM] Billy: HAHAHAH
[9:38:22 PM] Billy: yeah seriously
[9:38:40 PM] Rob: I feel like this is gonna be like that conversation yuo and erica had with the haikus
[9:38:46 PM] Rob: but just with insults
[9:38:51 PM] Billy: Rememebr those? haahahahha
[9:38:53 PM] Billy: they were funny
[9:38:56 PM] Rob : hahah yes
[9:39:03 PM] Billy: Erica holds Moppypuss poetry readings
[9:39:06 PM] Billy: everyone knows whos he is
[9:39:08 PM] Billy: who she is*
[9:39:10 PM] Rob: so I've heard
[9:39:13 PM] Billy: mhm
[9:39:53 PM] Rob: Moppypuss's poetry is so bad, her mother once tried to cut her fingers off... but she just scraped away some cheeto dust and calluses from masturbation
[9:40:40 PM] Billy: her vagina is probably like two slabs of cheap deli ham, slathered in crisco and sprinkled with pubes
[9:41:09 PM] Rob de la Teja: hahaha... after it's been microwaved and left in a public urinal
[9:41:15 PM] Billy: HAHAH HAHAHA
[9:41:18 PM] Billy: nasty
[9:41:49 PM] Rob de la Teja: her pussy is so often violated she can only feel sensation in her clitoris with a dental drill
[9:42:19 PM] Billy: HAHAHAHHHAHAH
[9:42:36 PM] Billy: yeah Tubaface nailed the shit out of that cavern
[9:43:22 PM] Rob de la Teja: literally... he's into fucking sacks of manure because he's from farm country so Moppypuss was very accomodating
[9:43:40 PM] Billy: lol yeah that must be it
[9:43:52 PM] Rob: but with her diet the consistency was never quite right
[9:43:59 PM] Billy: HAHAH
[9:45:01 PM] Rob: this would make for a really disgusting blog entry
[9:45:11 PM] Billy: yeah it would. lmao
[9:45:24 PM] Rob: come on, get in the mean spirit
[9:46:09 PM] Billy: i feel like if she gave birth the baby would suffocate before making it's way out
[9:46:22 PM] Rob: her vagina dentata never activates because her pussy just doesn't care anymore... it JUST...DOESN'T...CARE
[9:46:26 PM] Rob: haha
[9:46:29 PM] Billy: HAHAHAHAHAH
[9:47:00 PM] Rob: her snatch is like Iowa: barren, depressing and a suitable place to grow corn
[9:47:38 PM] Billy: LOL
[9:47:44 PM] Billy: omg so true
[9:47:45 PM] Billy: hahahahha
[9:48:22 PM] Rob: they could create a version of the vagina monologues based entirely around her pussy
[9:49:00 PM] Rob: "my vagina is a garbage disposal: dark, sharp, and a terrible place to lose change"
[9:49:11 PM] Billy: The Moppypuss cunt chronicles
[9:49:28 PM] Billy: DAS MOPENPUSS CUNT CHÖNICHELIN!
[9:49:42 PM] Rob: hahaha
[9:50:20 PM] Rob: follow me.... into a magical place
[9:50:26 PM] Rob: it is a land... called my vagina
[9:51:03 PM] Rob: there's some grass and trees and purple humming bees, and jiving turkey leaves... in my vagina
[9:51:05 PM] Billy: HAHAHAHAHAH
[9:51:21 PM] Rob: an example of her poetry in DAS MOPENPUSS KUNT KRONICLEN
[9:51:40 PM] Billy: YESSSS
[9:52:19 PM] Rob: I think I might have to go to hell
[9:53:14 PM] Billy: well yes.
The best content really comes from real life. All people who were offended are fags and should go die. Pussies.
For the sake of decency, we're gonna call the subject of our conversation Moppypuss.
[9:37:21 PM] Rob: sluts like Moppypuss need to start doing anal
[9:37:29 PM] Billy: HAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAH
[9:37:29 PM] Billy: EW
[9:37:36 PM] Rob: these cleaveland steamers won't apply themselves
[9:37:53 PM] Billy: her crotch is probably a breeding ground for all sorts of microbiology
[9:38:12 PM] Rob: the found the primordial ooze... in Moppypuss's vagina
[9:38:19 PM] Billy: HAHAHAH
[9:38:22 PM] Billy: yeah seriously
[9:38:40 PM] Rob: I feel like this is gonna be like that conversation yuo and erica had with the haikus
[9:38:46 PM] Rob: but just with insults
[9:38:51 PM] Billy: Rememebr those? haahahahha
[9:38:53 PM] Billy: they were funny
[9:38:56 PM] Rob : hahah yes
[9:39:03 PM] Billy: Erica holds Moppypuss poetry readings
[9:39:06 PM] Billy: everyone knows whos he is
[9:39:08 PM] Billy: who she is*
[9:39:10 PM] Rob: so I've heard
[9:39:13 PM] Billy: mhm
[9:39:53 PM] Rob: Moppypuss's poetry is so bad, her mother once tried to cut her fingers off... but she just scraped away some cheeto dust and calluses from masturbation
[9:40:40 PM] Billy: her vagina is probably like two slabs of cheap deli ham, slathered in crisco and sprinkled with pubes
[9:41:09 PM] Rob de la Teja: hahaha... after it's been microwaved and left in a public urinal
[9:41:15 PM] Billy: HAHAH HAHAHA
[9:41:18 PM] Billy: nasty
[9:41:49 PM] Rob de la Teja: her pussy is so often violated she can only feel sensation in her clitoris with a dental drill
[9:42:19 PM] Billy: HAHAHAHHHAHAH
[9:42:36 PM] Billy: yeah Tubaface nailed the shit out of that cavern
[9:43:22 PM] Rob de la Teja: literally... he's into fucking sacks of manure because he's from farm country so Moppypuss was very accomodating
[9:43:40 PM] Billy: lol yeah that must be it
[9:43:52 PM] Rob: but with her diet the consistency was never quite right
[9:43:59 PM] Billy: HAHAH
[9:45:01 PM] Rob: this would make for a really disgusting blog entry
[9:45:11 PM] Billy: yeah it would. lmao
[9:45:24 PM] Rob: come on, get in the mean spirit
[9:46:09 PM] Billy: i feel like if she gave birth the baby would suffocate before making it's way out
[9:46:22 PM] Rob: her vagina dentata never activates because her pussy just doesn't care anymore... it JUST...DOESN'T...CARE
[9:46:26 PM] Rob: haha
[9:46:29 PM] Billy: HAHAHAHAHAH
[9:47:00 PM] Rob: her snatch is like Iowa: barren, depressing and a suitable place to grow corn
[9:47:38 PM] Billy: LOL
[9:47:44 PM] Billy: omg so true
[9:47:45 PM] Billy: hahahahha
[9:48:22 PM] Rob: they could create a version of the vagina monologues based entirely around her pussy
[9:49:00 PM] Rob: "my vagina is a garbage disposal: dark, sharp, and a terrible place to lose change"
[9:49:11 PM] Billy: The Moppypuss cunt chronicles
[9:49:28 PM] Billy: DAS MOPENPUSS CUNT CHÖNICHELIN!
[9:49:42 PM] Rob: hahaha
[9:50:20 PM] Rob: follow me.... into a magical place
[9:50:26 PM] Rob: it is a land... called my vagina
[9:51:03 PM] Rob: there's some grass and trees and purple humming bees, and jiving turkey leaves... in my vagina
[9:51:05 PM] Billy: HAHAHAHAHAH
[9:51:21 PM] Rob: an example of her poetry in DAS MOPENPUSS KUNT KRONICLEN
[9:51:40 PM] Billy: YESSSS
[9:52:19 PM] Rob: I think I might have to go to hell
[9:53:14 PM] Billy: well yes.
The best content really comes from real life. All people who were offended are fags and should go die. Pussies.
Monday, October 11, 2010
The Hunger
I'm supposed to be doing homework right now. Oops.
So I have been slacking off on my blogging lately. Mostly because I lack sufficient material. However, there has been one topic that over the past few weeks has been haunting me. It's been sitting in the back of my head, drilling away at some part of my brain that a brief scan of the Wikipedia page on brains left me unable to identify. Until today I thought the topic was too personal and embarrassing to talk about, but I am in dire need of content and this is certainly compelling. As many wise journalists have told me, "Don't let your own biases get in the way of telling a good story." Well maybe I don't exactly have a good story on my hands, but at least it is a story.
So I'm on a diet. Yes, "Big Gay Rob" as a frenemy once called me behind my back in high school, is trying to drop the "Big." Why, you ask? Well many things have led me to this place. I can tell you that it's for my health and that I'm really just trying to live a healthy lifestyle. This would be a fucking lie. Like 90% of people who attempt to lose weight I am on a diet for purely superficial reasons.
There is a long chain of events leading up to this decision, but I can narrow it down to two triggers. First, I saw a gay who used to be fat walking through City Place looking FIERCE. To my dismay, he'd gotten skinny. Do I feel happy for these people? I probably should but I can't. I just shoot lasers at them with my eyes that don't seem to do anything but make them look better.
So I cut my caloric intake to 1500 calories a day. At this point I am hungry.
About a week later a friend abandoned me in an apartment with two other gays that I didn't know very well. We ended up having some sort of weird gay bonding that I'd never experienced before. We talked about our first times and stuff--very high school girl sleepover conversation. At some point, both of the gays whipped out their licenses and showed how fat they used to be. I was astonished. They were fatter than I ever was. And now they both looked great. I'd started dieting 3 days prior to this, but after this I was a man on a mission. If all of these other fucking gays can do this, I can do this because I CAN FUCKING DO ANYTHING! Mommy told me so. Parents don't lie.
She was probably telling me that I could do anything here. How Utopian of her.
So I cut my caloric intake to 1000 calories a day and weigh myself every single time I'm in the bathroom. At this point I am sluggish, grouchy and perpetually famished.
Living on 1000 calories a day is easier when you have shit to do. Shit to distract you from how fucking hungry you are all the time. When I started the diet I was in a vacuum of productivity. Had little to do and even that stuff I was procrastinating on. All I could think about was not eating. It's a vicious cycle. It doesn't help that I'm the only person in the world who gets really hungry from smoking cigarettes. Does this mean that if I quit smoking, I'd lose weight? With my luck, no. Fuck.
So what does someone who's perpetually hungry do? Why I painted some sort of crazy abstract expressionist nightmare to represent my hunger. I'm gonna name it "Martha":
Can't you feel my angst?
No?
Fine, well I guess this shows that I have problems. Oh, that reminds me, I also recently became a vegetarian. I only cheated once (and by that I mean I made one purchase of meat that happened to last me 3 days because I'm all about portion control now...lame), but otherwise I've stuck to it for over a month. I don't care about the animals. The animals can go die and be eaten for all I care (oh... wait a minute) I just figured "Why the hell not? It'll probably make stupid diet shit easier." So yeah. There's that.
Maybe I should just try exercise. Maybe. I smell another blog post coming on soon.
So I have been slacking off on my blogging lately. Mostly because I lack sufficient material. However, there has been one topic that over the past few weeks has been haunting me. It's been sitting in the back of my head, drilling away at some part of my brain that a brief scan of the Wikipedia page on brains left me unable to identify. Until today I thought the topic was too personal and embarrassing to talk about, but I am in dire need of content and this is certainly compelling. As many wise journalists have told me, "Don't let your own biases get in the way of telling a good story." Well maybe I don't exactly have a good story on my hands, but at least it is a story.
So I'm on a diet. Yes, "Big Gay Rob" as a frenemy once called me behind my back in high school, is trying to drop the "Big." Why, you ask? Well many things have led me to this place. I can tell you that it's for my health and that I'm really just trying to live a healthy lifestyle. This would be a fucking lie. Like 90% of people who attempt to lose weight I am on a diet for purely superficial reasons.
There is a long chain of events leading up to this decision, but I can narrow it down to two triggers. First, I saw a gay who used to be fat walking through City Place looking FIERCE. To my dismay, he'd gotten skinny. Do I feel happy for these people? I probably should but I can't. I just shoot lasers at them with my eyes that don't seem to do anything but make them look better.
So I cut my caloric intake to 1500 calories a day. At this point I am hungry.
About a week later a friend abandoned me in an apartment with two other gays that I didn't know very well. We ended up having some sort of weird gay bonding that I'd never experienced before. We talked about our first times and stuff--very high school girl sleepover conversation. At some point, both of the gays whipped out their licenses and showed how fat they used to be. I was astonished. They were fatter than I ever was. And now they both looked great. I'd started dieting 3 days prior to this, but after this I was a man on a mission. If all of these other fucking gays can do this, I can do this because I CAN FUCKING DO ANYTHING! Mommy told me so. Parents don't lie.
She was probably telling me that I could do anything here. How Utopian of her.Living on 1000 calories a day is easier when you have shit to do. Shit to distract you from how fucking hungry you are all the time. When I started the diet I was in a vacuum of productivity. Had little to do and even that stuff I was procrastinating on. All I could think about was not eating. It's a vicious cycle. It doesn't help that I'm the only person in the world who gets really hungry from smoking cigarettes. Does this mean that if I quit smoking, I'd lose weight? With my luck, no. Fuck.
So what does someone who's perpetually hungry do? Why I painted some sort of crazy abstract expressionist nightmare to represent my hunger. I'm gonna name it "Martha":
Can't you feel my angst?
No?
Fine, well I guess this shows that I have problems. Oh, that reminds me, I also recently became a vegetarian. I only cheated once (and by that I mean I made one purchase of meat that happened to last me 3 days because I'm all about portion control now...lame), but otherwise I've stuck to it for over a month. I don't care about the animals. The animals can go die and be eaten for all I care (oh... wait a minute) I just figured "Why the hell not? It'll probably make stupid diet shit easier." So yeah. There's that.
Maybe I should just try exercise. Maybe. I smell another blog post coming on soon.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
The Best Things About Living Off Campus
Note: I was drunk when I wrote this. I'm fully aware that it sucks, but I need a September entry so I'm keeping it up.
Okay. Now that I'm nice and cozy in my new apartment (I went to Bed Bath and Beyond today) I feel that it is time for this blog. I've lived off-campus since the beginning of the summer and it's certainly better, but there are so so many reasons why--some obvious, some less so. So I'm going to get all stream-of-consciousness on your ass and get this party started with a little bit of the good old back-to-school spirit. You ready? Well ensure that your rear ends are firmly planted in their respective seats, beds, carpets and bean bags (hippie) and get ready for some funky list-tastic blogging. Let me begin by saying that these are in no particular order because frankly I'm making them up as I go along:
1.) Privacy
I have a nice big room to myself that nobody is allowed into without my permission. No RAs, no inspection during break... The door in my new apartment kinda doesn't have a lock which makes it all like "Shit, dog. I don't think anybody would actually walk in while I'm masturbating, but if they knock I'll have to be 'AHHHHH DON'T COME IN!' and they'll be all 'Rob is so totally choking the chicken right now' and damn, gurl, just LET ME MASTURBATE IN SECURITY AND PEACE! Still, No RAs, which brings me to point number 2:
2.) No RAs
Now that I am an adult, who can buy booze, I don't have to fear being caught walking into my building with liquor. In fact, walking into it with an open bottle, swigging violently would be totally cool as long as the cops don't see. If I had to walk into the Little Building with an open bottle of Bacardi I would probably have to break it against the railing around the elevator to fashion a shiv and stab the cardswipers/Securitas folk and that would be a totally unnecessary waste of rum. Seriously.
3.) Food
Okay, so basically having my mother make the same thing for my lunch for years on end has made me the type of person who will eat one thing for prolonged periods of time before moving onto another singular food item. Like, lately all I eat are Bagel Bites and hummus (not together...eww)... Freshman year the only acceptable food in P-Row was the chicken fingers and waffle fries at the Max. I ate them every single day... with soda... Hello, freshman fifteen (err...okay, twenty) because this is what I do. I eat one thing. And on-campus, the only foods I could get into a habit with were not good... so I balance it out with healthy things. This is good. (Last week I was on a strict diet of Gatorade and Vicodin for about 5 days... good week)
4.) Noise
Over the summer I lived in Chinatown. It was loud. Now I live in Beacon Hill... much less loud. Emerson College? ALWAYS LOUD!
5.) I lost my train of thought. I have a migraine. I don't know anymore just take my 4 and go the fuck away... or not. I love you, readers... See you next week (or month... or semester... always keeping you on your toes)
Okay. Now that I'm nice and cozy in my new apartment (I went to Bed Bath and Beyond today) I feel that it is time for this blog. I've lived off-campus since the beginning of the summer and it's certainly better, but there are so so many reasons why--some obvious, some less so. So I'm going to get all stream-of-consciousness on your ass and get this party started with a little bit of the good old back-to-school spirit. You ready? Well ensure that your rear ends are firmly planted in their respective seats, beds, carpets and bean bags (hippie) and get ready for some funky list-tastic blogging. Let me begin by saying that these are in no particular order because frankly I'm making them up as I go along:
1.) Privacy
I have a nice big room to myself that nobody is allowed into without my permission. No RAs, no inspection during break... The door in my new apartment kinda doesn't have a lock which makes it all like "Shit, dog. I don't think anybody would actually walk in while I'm masturbating, but if they knock I'll have to be 'AHHHHH DON'T COME IN!' and they'll be all 'Rob is so totally choking the chicken right now' and damn, gurl, just LET ME MASTURBATE IN SECURITY AND PEACE! Still, No RAs, which brings me to point number 2:
2.) No RAs
Now that I am an adult, who can buy booze, I don't have to fear being caught walking into my building with liquor. In fact, walking into it with an open bottle, swigging violently would be totally cool as long as the cops don't see. If I had to walk into the Little Building with an open bottle of Bacardi I would probably have to break it against the railing around the elevator to fashion a shiv and stab the cardswipers/Securitas folk and that would be a totally unnecessary waste of rum. Seriously.
3.) Food
Okay, so basically having my mother make the same thing for my lunch for years on end has made me the type of person who will eat one thing for prolonged periods of time before moving onto another singular food item. Like, lately all I eat are Bagel Bites and hummus (not together...eww)... Freshman year the only acceptable food in P-Row was the chicken fingers and waffle fries at the Max. I ate them every single day... with soda... Hello, freshman fifteen (err...okay, twenty) because this is what I do. I eat one thing. And on-campus, the only foods I could get into a habit with were not good... so I balance it out with healthy things. This is good. (Last week I was on a strict diet of Gatorade and Vicodin for about 5 days... good week)
4.) Noise
Over the summer I lived in Chinatown. It was loud. Now I live in Beacon Hill... much less loud. Emerson College? ALWAYS LOUD!
5.) I lost my train of thought. I have a migraine. I don't know anymore just take my 4 and go the fuck away... or not. I love you, readers... See you next week (or month... or semester... always keeping you on your toes)
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Sometimes I Get Off Topic...
Before I write this, I'd like to say that I only really intend to write 3 to 4 sentences. This is how most blogs start and then I rant. Kinda like what I'm doing right now. Already 3-4 sentences in, I'm really failing at this.
So anyway, have you ever gotten deja vu? Okay, how about when you get deja vu over something that is clearly not a memory but rather just a misfiring of nerves in the brain that makes you all "OHHHH my god, this is...
...Sorry... I got distracted by facebook... Well, actually, it started on twitter... I noticed that Silly Bandz was trending. "Why?" I asked myself, "Why would these stupid shit bracelets be trending? Did some child finally choke to death on one or commit manslaughter with one so that we can get the godforsaken things banned? (pun!)" No. Alas, the powers that be at twatter had announced that Justin Bieber was going to have his own line of Silly Bandz. Yes. This somehow sounds so right and perfect to me in every way. This is something I will stand behind.
In a moment of uber-ironic "wanting to make a bad fashion statement on purpose" hipstahtude, I immediately went to Google and searched for Silly Bandz.
Wait, these things are shaped like different things when you take them off? And there are going to be ones shaped like Bieber? I needed them. A silicone Bieber face outline that I can stick my fingers through, deform, and wear around my wrist? What reason could I possibly have for not wanting these. (At this point my ironic desire has gone to a genuine desire. This sounds like a good idea to me. A tad hipster, but at least I can acknowledge that which negates it somewhat. Or at least that's what I'd like to think.)
Cool kids do these sorts of things. It was only appropriate that this was the first result when I went on Amazon:
It's like Amazon is taunting me. It's like Amazon is saying "I know you, and I know you're not cool. Oh, and guess what, Rob. These peace and love ones rather cleverly titled 'hipster' are FAR too small to fit on your wrist. Suck it, fag."
I hate you, Amazon.
I know you track all of my purchases and know more about me than some of my friends, but seriously, STOP MAKING JUDGMENT CALLS!
I love you, don't believe what he has to say, Amazon. My relationship with eBay was an abusive one. You treat me right, I know that. Sure, you're a bit high-maintenance, but you're really there for me.
Whatever.
Well look at that. I just found what the Bieber bands are gonna look like... and none of them are of the Bieber's face! What the fuck is this shit?
Lame. Whatever. Needless to say, my need for Bieber duds was well-chronicled on facebook. I said I wanted some Silly Bandz expecting people to be all "Tres lame, Rob." No. Instead I get tales of Silly Band woe, love, fun times with Silly Bandz, where to buy them... Do I live in an alternate universe or something?
Considering that I've literally never even heard an entire Biebs song the entire way through, I blog about J-Beebz far too much... I suppose that merits a new tag.
UPDATE: I just looked around the office where I work. There are people here FAR more hipster than I shall ever be... I feel better.
So anyway, have you ever gotten deja vu? Okay, how about when you get deja vu over something that is clearly not a memory but rather just a misfiring of nerves in the brain that makes you all "OHHHH my god, this is...
...Sorry... I got distracted by facebook... Well, actually, it started on twitter... I noticed that Silly Bandz was trending. "Why?" I asked myself, "Why would these stupid shit bracelets be trending? Did some child finally choke to death on one or commit manslaughter with one so that we can get the godforsaken things banned? (pun!)" No. Alas, the powers that be at twatter had announced that Justin Bieber was going to have his own line of Silly Bandz. Yes. This somehow sounds so right and perfect to me in every way. This is something I will stand behind.
In a moment of uber-ironic "wanting to make a bad fashion statement on purpose" hipstahtude, I immediately went to Google and searched for Silly Bandz.
Wait, these things are shaped like different things when you take them off? And there are going to be ones shaped like Bieber? I needed them. A silicone Bieber face outline that I can stick my fingers through, deform, and wear around my wrist? What reason could I possibly have for not wanting these. (At this point my ironic desire has gone to a genuine desire. This sounds like a good idea to me. A tad hipster, but at least I can acknowledge that which negates it somewhat. Or at least that's what I'd like to think.)
Cool kids do these sorts of things. It was only appropriate that this was the first result when I went on Amazon:
It's like Amazon is taunting me. It's like Amazon is saying "I know you, and I know you're not cool. Oh, and guess what, Rob. These peace and love ones rather cleverly titled 'hipster' are FAR too small to fit on your wrist. Suck it, fag."
I hate you, Amazon.
I know you track all of my purchases and know more about me than some of my friends, but seriously, STOP MAKING JUDGMENT CALLS!
I love you, don't believe what he has to say, Amazon. My relationship with eBay was an abusive one. You treat me right, I know that. Sure, you're a bit high-maintenance, but you're really there for me.
Whatever.
Well look at that. I just found what the Bieber bands are gonna look like... and none of them are of the Bieber's face! What the fuck is this shit?
Lame. Whatever. Needless to say, my need for Bieber duds was well-chronicled on facebook. I said I wanted some Silly Bandz expecting people to be all "Tres lame, Rob." No. Instead I get tales of Silly Band woe, love, fun times with Silly Bandz, where to buy them... Do I live in an alternate universe or something?
Rob de la Teja wait... the silly bands turn into different shapes when you take them off? is this why they're popular? okay, I'm sold, where can I buy some that will fit my wrists?
- Stefany likes this.
Jamie yo honestly theyre so distracting.. people gave me some and i played with them like they were action figures when i was in class and i snapped all of em15 hours ago ·
Rob AND they're coming out with bieber-shaped ones? I need these... dead serious... which bone should I get removed: the ulna or radius?15 hours ago ·
Sally The little girl I babysit has 150 of them. She wouldn't give me one. ONE.15 hours ago ·- Rob I mean I was far more generous as a child than I am now, but I generally remember kids just being like that... "MINE!"15 hours ago ·
Stefany yea!! my cousin gave me a dove, an angel, a star, a spongebob flower and a sun! they're so cool14 hours ago ·- Rob I WANT A SPONGEBOB FLOWER!14 hours ago ·
- Stefany lmao I'll give it to you when I see you in Sept, unless you find them by then.14 hours ago ·
- Stefany anddd omgg we can trade sillybandzzz hahahah14 hours ago ·
- Rob Seriously, though, I have giant wrists. I need to find a way to alleviate this problem or else I can never be one of the cool kids14 hours ago ·
- Jamie i acquired mine through slutty girls who acquired theres from men.... says a lot about long island. BEIBER FEVER SILLYBANDZ how do you make a sillyband look like beiber?14 hours ago ·
- Stefany Awwww yea haha wow I didn't even think about that! They stretch tho and I think they come if bigger sizes cuz my star is bigger than the other bandz..14 hours ago ·
James newbury comics has tons14 hours ago ·
Sean I have a couple of extra dinosaurs if you don't mind waiting three weeks.
Considering that I've literally never even heard an entire Biebs song the entire way through, I blog about J-Beebz far too much... I suppose that merits a new tag.UPDATE: I just looked around the office where I work. There are people here FAR more hipster than I shall ever be... I feel better.
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