Bro Mail #3 in picture form below 'cause it is long as shit.
Thursday, July 3, 2014
Friday, June 13, 2014
It's interesting that some of the same misconceptions that people in my real life have formed about me, some people on the internet have also formed. It doesn't really bother me, but I do find it interesting how so few people are able to understand people who don't fit neatly into prescribed bins. Someone reads a post about say lifting and thinks "Oh what a jock asshole" or about Jonah Hill and thinks I actually give a fuck what he says. It's called a thought exercise, Christ. Part of the problem is that we're taught in school to think binarily from a young age. Correct/incorrect, right/wrong, winner/loser fact/fiction jock/nerd: these are all ridiculously simplified concepts in school and in many people's minds.
Monday, June 9, 2014
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Fuck Jonah Hill.
He was good in Super Bad, and decent in Wolf of Wall Street, but despite copious PR feigning, I don't accept his emotional apology for his comments.
My beef is not with his apology per se—he couldn't have really been more serious or genuine about it—but it's just not something that can be excuse with any apology. When in an angered and uninhibited state, his "brain" searched for how to insult a douchebag photographer and it came up with:
"Suck my dick, you faggot"
Sunday, May 25, 2014
I touched down at Chucky de Gaulle airport and hop on the temporary internet to let my friend know that je suis arrivé in motherfucking frogtown. Also to jump on le petit Tinder, chyeah. I open it only long enough for it to locate me and initiate the viral spread of my steez. As an aside, the train ticketing machines are extremely unfriendly to non-euro visitors: they accept neither american credit cards nor euro bills despite the ~10 euro fare—and a change machine only accepts 5 or 10 euro notes. Anyways, once in the metro area I board the train in the wrong direction for my connection. Sweet. I eventually arrive slightly damp and very tired at my friend’s doorstep in the 5th arrondissement. Arrondissement is either French for go-fuck-yourself or neighborhood. Come to think of it, almost everything in French could be understood as “go fuck yourself”. But let’s not get into formal linguistics.