Scabs…

I don’t know how I should title this without giving away too much. You’ll see what I mean after you read this short entry. On a side note, I always thought it was “scalp” but I was wise enough to consult google before writing it out and looking like a dumbass. But then I went ahead and revealed that I was a dumbass anyway. Also, it wasn’t easy to find that it was called scabs when I wasn’t even sure that’s what it sounded like anymore.

Lately, I’ve been finding scabs around my body. I know I keep mentioning that I’m suicidal but I’m not cutting myself or anything. It might be from biking to work or general carelessness but the reason isn’t important. Just now, I found that my right nipple is either hard or has a scab on it while my left nipple is fine. It’s kinda hard to find out which one it is and I don’t know what to make of it. I just thought it was kind of random and funny and worth sharing. Plus, I’ve been getting likes for my past 2 entries but they’re slowing down so I feel the need to whore out my writing again.

Advertisements

My Life’s Paradoxes Part I

When I wrote about my dumbassery (part one), I mentioned that there was another topic I wanted to write about and this is it, coming to you several days later. I had a few ideas but I had not written them because I couldn’t find the best words to write them in. I still haven’t found the words yet but I’m going to write it out anyway since I’m trying to kill some time. I have too much time this morning because I woke up at 5am to the sound of fuckin birds. Fuckin birds… (It’s times like these that the distinction between fuckin and fucking actually matters.) I’ve already masturbated so I shall proceed with my mental masturbation, blogging. I am a truly masturbatory being.

Lately, I’ve been blogging a lot more than usual and it might seem like I’m opening up more. But in actuality, I’m getting more secluded because of the blog. When my friends ask me how I’ve been, I just want to refer them to the blog because I already wrote about it but my friends don’t like reading so it pretty much just ends all conversations. And what do I get in return? I’m writing for an audience of 17 people, probably only 5 of which will actually read my new posts, and these people aren’t even part of my life. Sorry reader, I have a tendency to antagonize you.

Being depressed and suicidal makes me not want nor need anything. I don’t need to hang out with friends cause they can’t cheer me up. I don’t need luxury items because they’re just wasted on me. I don’t even need to eat most of the time because I don’t need to live. Do I need to live? I didn’t think so. It took me awhile to realize that I actually do need to live, but only because of the definition of the word “need”. A necessity or need is something that is required to live. So by definition, I do need to live; I just don’t want to. It would be like saying blue jeans aren’t blue. Yeah, I know, semantics can be a mind fucker.

Ever since I wrote the entry on my sexuality, I’ve thought about it some more. I find that I’m attracted to lesbians more than straight girls. But of course, I’m attracted to the girly lesbians and not the butch ones. I’m like a butch lesbian… so butch that I even have a penis. There ought to be a term for a heterosexual who’s attracted specifically to homosexuals of the opposite gender. Oh I know, it’s called retardation.

…”Retardation” is the punchline but I’m not too fond of it. I couldn’t think of a better term that’s concise and funny. Other terms I’ve thought up include: self-defeating sexual retardation, fucktard, retardedsexuality, and he-s-retard-ed-sexuality. If you can think of a better one, write a comment for it. I don’t have any prizes to give but I can approve of your wit and humor. It’s sad how my two cents is literally worth less than two pennies.

 

…To Live… and Rants

For a long time, I’ve been having trouble trying to think up of concise words to express a certain emotion I’ve been feeling. It’s a depressing thought and I’m pretty sure I wrote about it in the early entries of the blog, back when I called it a suicidal autobiographical blog. Anyway, here’s the nice concise version of this thought:

(I had been unemployed and sitting around at home for a long time. People, particularly my parents, urge me to find a job because I need to earn a living.) I don’t even want to live, why the fuck would I want to work to live?

I was originally going to end this entry there but I like writing longer blogs and I figured out a few other things I want to write about. So I’m working part time at a library now simply because one of my friend’s girlfriend helped me apply (with my consent). It’s been 2 weeks now and I’ve been biking 7 km (roughly 4.4 miles) to and from work everyday. I had been riding a near decade old bike, that was shitty even when it was new, and now has misaligned tires, that scrape against the brakes, and brakes that don’t work. Given my passively suicidal state, the hunk of junk is actually a perfect fit for me. It greatly increased my chance of dying and I didn’t need to worry about people stealing it because it was a piece of shit. I laugh in my head just imagining the fool who steals this shit bike and gets pissed cause it doesn’t ride straight or die from not having brakes.

On my way to work today, a tire popped and now it’s a complete piece of shit that I couldn’t even make use of. I called home from work to let my parents know that I’m going to have to walk home so I’ll be later than usual. That sounds like healthy relationship behavior but I only do it so my mom doesn’t start crying and calling my friends like the last time when she literally nagged me out of the house… past midnight… during winter. That’s actually a whole story unto itself that I haven’t wrote about in the blog yet. By now, it should be clear that I don’t hold back at all. I only chose not to write about it because the story actually isn’t nearly as interesting as the synopsis.

During the phone call, my mom went hysterical and called me selfish for choosing to walk and making her worry. That’s pretty much my life summed up in my commute situation. If I walk, I’m selfish and worrisome. If I get a ride, I’m selfish and annoying and dependent and spoiled. I ended up getting a ride since it was just one night. I started making plans on buying a new bike right away because I’ll be needing it to get to work. But it was necessary because my problem solved itself for a change. It turns out that my cancerous uncle won’t be needing his brand new bike since he’s in no mood to ride it and he won’t need it once he dies, soon enough. Boy, I sure am lucky that my uncle got cancer. … I feel like people might call me a total douchebag for writing that last sentence but it’s just pure “moral” bullshit. Objectively, there’s actually nothing with it. Plus, I only wrote it to point out the irony. I couldn’t really give a shit about luck for mundane shit like a bicycle. A new bike costs what? $100? $200? Just this year, the government fined me more than triple that amount on a bank error (which the bank made) that I have no control over. Again, that’s another boring story that won’t be getting into.

If you ever catch me blogging about the bank story or getting nagged out of the house, then you will know that I have officially ran out of things to write about. Either that, or I found a way to make those boring stories really, really, REALLY interesting. By then, I better be famous or Jesus cause that would be a god damn miracle.

Oh, and just to show what a cunt I am, the free new bike is actually quite a burden for me. Now I actually have to worry about people stealing my bike. I liked it better when I rode a piece of shit that I wanted to get stolen.

My Dumbassery Part II

I’m a glasses wearing, math doing, blog writing, asian man. I normally don’t react much and maintain a cool composure. That’s why unexpected encounters with insects annoy me. It’s hard to keep cool when I fend myself from bugs. The worst of these was probably one time when a fly landed on my glasses and I instinctively tried to slap it away, which led to me slapping myself in the face, knocking my glasses off, and breaking them…

I also tend to say stupid things and cringe when I look back on the things I’ve said. Just recently, I told a stranger that I’d rather be mean and weird than nice and boring. I don’t know if the message is clear, but it wasn’t the best choice of words. However, life’s too short to be changing things all the time so I just force myself to assume the stances I’ve once taken. Few things actually matter anyway so I might as well save my time and effort. I beseech you all heed this advice given to you by a brilliant man who slapped himself and broke his glasses.

My Dumbassery Part I

Let me start off with a bad joke. I’m a really cheap person so I try to get 50% off everything. If someone asks me to give them my 2 cents, I’ll bargain to give 1 cent. …I’m not proud of that joke at all. Those who might enjoy it, enjoy. Those who find it lame, I agree with you. I guess it befits the title that I’m presenting a joke I don’t even like.

Anyway, I went to a computer store yesterday to buy a new hard drive. I filled up my 2tb with porn already so I need a new one. Just kidding, only 120gb of it is porn. I picked out a 3tb hard drive for $140 and lined up to pay. I only had around $80 cash so I was going to use my credit card. But then the machine asked me for a pin and I didn’t know I had a fuckin’ pin. It never asked me for a pin before so I don’t know it and I couldn’t pay. The cashier had already printed out the receipt and bagged it and everything. There was nothing I could do, I simply didn’t have enough money. I wonder how often this happens. I wonder how many dumbasses tries to buy something without enough money. Here’s a Louis CK joke that’s very related to this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9HmoVxU38gE

 

Stand Up Material

Last week I was planning to do a 5 minute open mic to promote my blog a bit. Once it’s written, the material is there so I might as well try to get more people to enjoy it. I contacted Yuk Yuk’s but they didn’t contact me back. Plus, WordPress seems to be linking people to my blog pretty well so I don’t think I will be using that material anymore. Some of it is repeated material from previous entries but some of it is brand new. I liked it but for some reason my friends didn’t like it. Maybe my blog followers would enjoy it as much as I do.

The first thing you should know about me is that I’m a very depressed person. Once I got depressed past a certain point, past thoughts of suicide, nothing matters anymore. It’s great because I can pretty much do anything I want now and not care about consequences. I always have the backup option of not living anymore.

Offending people is awesome cause they can’t do anything to me. What, are they going to kill me? Please. No really, please, I beg you, do it. … Just to be clear, I don’t actually want anyone to kill me tonight. I needed to make that clarification just in case one of you are crazy. I mean, I don’t want to live anymore, but I don’t want to die either. Dying is too painful. I’m dying enough on stage already. I call my current state, passively suicidal.

The other new thing is that I’ve forsaken all goals and ambitions. With none of that, I realized that I think I actually want to go to prison. Why should I bother working to live if I don’t even enjoy living? I don’t want all the responsibilities of paying bills or even cooking or buying food for myself. Plus, I don’t enjoy anything anymore so I don’t need the freedom either. When I tell my friends about my prison plan, their first reaction is to ask me if I’m a faggot cause I’m going to get butt raped. I’m actually not too worried about the butt rape because I know I can at least go down fighting. In my current life, I can’t fight against anything. My mom tells me to go get a job and I can’t just punch her in the face. But if a dude is trying to rape me, I think I’d be justified to throw a few punches. I don’t think I would go down easily either. When they pin me down, they would have to pin me facing the wall or the floor and then they come at me from behind… cause that’s where my butt is. I used to bench over 200 pounds so I think I can push my way out of it. Think about it, when the guy is raping me, he has to go in and out. When he’s out, there’ll will be room for me to push out of it. I know it sounds like I’m reverse humping a guy who’s humping me, but I think it’ll work. Even if my resistance is futile, I wonder, how bad could it be? People do enjoy anal sex after all so maybe I’ll actually like it. At least I’ll finally be getting laid. I’m very open minded.

After having thoughts like those, I begin to wonder whether I’m actually gay. Think about it, I’m still a virgin and all my friends are guys. I pretty much avoid talking to girls so maybe I really am gay. And then I catch myself masturbating to lesbian porn and realize that I can’t be gay. If anything, I’m a lesbian. So when my friends ask me if I’m a faggot for wanting to go to prison… Well, what if I AM a faggot? Does that make everything okay? As much as I like being called a faggot, I’m not gay unfortunately.

That’s all I’ve got. I think I’m funnier in writing so I want to recommended anyone who doesn’t have an aversion to reading to check out my blog. It’s tedgaming.blogspot.ca or you can add me on facebook.com/tedgaming. Thanks, bye.

A Few More Jokes

WordPress keeps telling me that so-and-so likes my blog and that I should check out their blog too because I might like it. WordPress has no idea how narcissistic I am…

I hope I never get offered a million dollars to give someone a blowjob because I don’t want to be forced to give anyone a blowjob ever. A million dollars… I HAVE to do it but I wouldn’t want to. It would be even worse to be given that offer briefly, and then having the offer withdrawn. I would feel so much regret at my hesitance. If only I dove in headfirst to give the blowjob, I would be a millionaire but because of my hesitance, I lost that chance.