YOLO

I never understood how to talk to people. I mean, people in general. There are some sort of people that I can talk to and everything’s cool and dandy. But there are the other kind of people, the one that loves getting drunk every weekend, that are proud of not reading. The kind that think that Swag was created by Bieber. Susan was one of those.

Once upon a time, when I was single and desperate (a couple of tales of that time are written here, quite more to come yet), I got hold of a guitar at a friend’s house and tried to learn the basic. This gave me an urge of actually buying one, of going to classes and try to learn about songs and stuff (well, my intentions were pretty broad, I know). And, we all know, girls dig the musician.

"Heeeey, sexy ladieees... change, please, I haven't eaten in weeks"

I found a teacher living two blocks from my house, and he made an offer I couldn’t refuse: a 20% discount on an old guitar he had lying around, if I took his classes for a year. Sounded actually fair, so I said what the fuck, let’s do it. At first it was hard, since my fingers are used to type shit and play videogames, but they hate the idea of a guitar. They despise it. They really fucking hate it. My fingers feel like they are tortured, like they are trying to get a confession out of them. After one hour of playing, I felt that they were in Guantanamo Bay, and some asshole CIA official was trying to get them reveal the location of some shitty terrorist hidden in Fuckingstan or someplace like that. They really hurt.

Eventually, I got better. Not Jimi Hendrix level, of course. More like Jim Kendricks, the guy who plays at the subway station every Sunday night and only knows two songs (and one of them is Wonderwall). But I started to get my money worth, and the teacher was really cool and funny. Everything was getting better. Right up to the time he came and said:

Teacher: Hey, dude, next class I’m getting some more students

Ghondar: …allright, cool. What for?

T: The idea is that you can play with others and start to learn some confidence in your style.

G: Cool, sounds great. Who are they?

T: Well, most of them are small children that are just starting. But there is one girl who might be great for you.

Now, the guy was talking about musical styles, but I was thinking something else. I suddenly started to visualize her in my head. Redhead, tall, thin, huge breasts and a great ass. Glasses, a couple of smalls tattoos (but nothing big or intimidating), maybe a piercing on her lip. A little too shy for her own good, but searching for true love and a nice guy who can take care of her, who can keep her safe from all the evilness that the world has. A guy who she can experiment and enjoy the intricate road of open sexuality.

And in slow-mo, obviously.

You know, normal stuff.

The day came (like your mom last night!) and we met. I’m going to be honest, she was pretty. And had a tattoo, true. But the rest? Well, both her ass and her breasts had an I.O.U. signed by God, and only under the correct lighting her hair could possibly be described as a really dark shade of red. All right, she was a brunette. Fuck your technicalities. But had a beautiful smile, and long fingers. And in my mind, that was more than enough to have a crush. Just a normal, regular crush. If I had to put it on a scale from 1 to 10, it would be a 6: Not soul changing, but not completely easy to ignore.

The teacher told us to play together one song (I can’t even remember the name of it) and we started learning the basic, while he was trying to keep calm the little shits that were with us. This gave us a window of chance, and we started joking around. We found that we had a lot of things in common, right up she said something like this:

Susan: Nah, I have an older boyfriend

G: *trying to keep calm and steady* Really? For how long?

S: For three weeks.

G: Oh, so it’s recent then.

S: Yeah, but YOLO.

G:… what?

S: You know, YOLO. You only live once.

G: Oh, I thought it was Ye Old Lovely Ostrich.

S: What?

G: …sorry… So, how old is he?

S: Oh, he’s 45. People look us funny since, well, I’m 15, but you know, YOLO! LOL.

G: Wait. So you are telling me he’s 30 years older than you?

S: Yup. Any problem with that?

G: No, nothing. I just find it weird that when he was watching the fall of the Berlin Wall, you didn’t even exist in your father’s balls.

S: Not following you.

G: The guy saw entire countries rise and fall. He watched live on television how the USSR went from being one single big fucker to hundred little small fuckers. And even then, he watched, again, live, how those small fuckers ended up dividing into even smaller fuckers, which names that are completely really hard to pronounce unless you cut your tongue in two.

S: So? YOLO!

G: …forget I said anything.

I really want Don Pardo to read this.

And that was it. The girl that I liked was dating someone older than her. So old, in fact, that he saw around 6 big wars (and five of them involved the US in some form) in his lifetime. And let’s not mention the fact that he was, well, kind of a pedophile. Well, not “kind”, he was an outright kiddie fucker.

She left the class a couple of months later, and we lost contact, like always. I found her on facebook the other day, and saw that she got pregnant a couple of months after I met her, and the guy obviously disappeared like Batman at night.

Oh, and she has a YOLO tattoo on her neck.

I never thought people could love an ostrich that much.

The Shit

I'm back. Somewhat. Dunno, I feel like I have some free time lately and been aching to write about stuff and people.

First of all, the Pokemon run probably wont continue since I.. eh... well, lost that phone. And the one replacing that. And the next one fell into the toilet. But the new one is looking good so far!. With that phone, there were the savegames and the screenshots I took, so now I see those posts and think "what could have been if I'vent been a dipshit?". Oh well, perhaps one day I will continue them with another game, or just forget about it entirely and that's it.

Yes, this blog has been as dead as your sex life (buuuuurn). It's been a rough couple of months. Well, more like a year. Ok, make that year and a half. Jeez, guys, don't be like that. The idea is that with this revival, I will try to write more. Or at least, look at past posts and laugh like an idiot (seriously, I forgot what I already wrote, and I just fucking laughed out loud with the last post I wrote here).

So let me tell you a story. A story about pills and gases. About the connection my body has to the deepest bowels of Hell. Let me tell you about...

THE SHIT

I had a minor surgery a few months ago (just a normal, regular kidney transplant, you know, common stuff), and they gave me pills to stay healthy. It's not that bad, I mean, it's 10-15 pills a day, but at least I'm not, you know, dead. So I have that going on for me, which is nice.

These pills have the tendency of making me gassy. And I don't mean just a little small fart that doesn't have any smell or do any sound. No, I'm talking about huge, ear and asshole ripping farts. The kind that can be heard from three miles away. The kind that scares cats and leave dogs deaf. Those who, when they come out, are holding a huge sign that says "HEY, GUYS, THIS GUY JUST FARTED, C'MON, SMELL IT, IT LOOKS LIKE HE ATE SOME SPACE RACCOON SHIT WITH YOGURT THAT'S HAS SEEN BETTER DAYS IN 1976". That kind.

My current work has me sitting for 8 hours in front of a computer, making the gasses accumulate inside my body, like some Nazi experiment. And I feel them. I feel them inside me, moving from side to side, trying to reach into the nearest hole. Sometimes they convert and transforms into normal and more socially acceptable burps, but not every time. I know that if I don't expel them soon enough, my body will be like a huge balloon full of dead smell.

Goku died for your smells.

The problem is that I don't like taking a shit at work. Or at any public bathroom for that matter. Not that they aren't clean, they are (or as clean as a public bathroom can actually be). But I feel judged by everyone, and if I know that someone is in the bathroom with me, I can't possibly unleash the shit Kraken with the pleasure and respect the beast deserves. I feel that if I do it and someone hears it, it will become gossip in the office, and I will forever be known as the Shit Maker (the Shit Beast Tamer would be far more awesome and adequate).

So, no, I don't take a shit at work. But my ass has a huge shit at the door, a shit who thinks that its time to meet the rest of the world and perhaps make friends along the way. So what do I do?

I hold it like a champ (hence the "Tamer" part of my absolutely perfect and awesome nickname)

I normally take two hours to get from work to home, where I can shit normally and without any complain (except for my family, but we are a huge family of shitters and farters, so it's in our genes). But on the bus and subway, the shit evolves. It starts gaining conscience. It becomes self aware. He (because I know it's a He, every single time) proceeds to fill my body with his tentacles and reach my brain, making me some kind of a Shit Mazinger. Since I have to take one floor of stairs to reach my home, every single step becomes a complete and a total pain in the ass.

...c'mon, you had to see that one coming!

Like some Shit Pavlov, as I get closer to the door (and, of course, the bathroom), the Shit Beast tries harder and harder to reach out. It becomes a chest buster. He knows I'm closer and closer. He just knows. It's Shawshank Redemption inside my body, and my intestines are Morgan Freeman. And then I reach the toilet.

And it all turns brown.

A HUGE explosion of shit covers all the insides of the until then white toilet. The shock can be felt from a huge distance. I can feel every single muscle of my body relaxing, after hours and hours of trying to tame it. The Beast is gone and I feel at peace.

Right until the next day when all starts again.

Perhaps it is my destiny. Perhaps it's my mutant power. It is my curse.  It is my blessing.

No, wait, it is a fucking curse. Can you possible imagine what this smells like? It feels like my asshole becomes an inter dimensional vortex that connects our plane of reality to some unholy, Elder Gods like place where this kind of smells are created and send over the unsuspecting people, using guys like me as the nexus. That's the only possible explanation that I can think of, since all of the rest involves me eating healthier and fuck that shit.

I said shit so much time it lost it's charm.

Shit.

The T-800 that could procreate

I never had problems with the family of the girls I dated, except two times. Once was the family of my last big relationship (those people deserve a post of their own), and that was a really big problem, and it actually fucked up my relationship with my then girlfriend.

The other time was just once, and we weren't actually dating. But for her father, the T-800 itself, there was no difference.

I met this girl (like all the rest) online, in an Anime Forum that I was a moderator. Before I go on, yes I did like anime, and yes, I thought I was an Otaku. I felt more connection with some drawings in the screen that I had with some of the people I used to talk. I felt special and one of my goals back then was to learn japanese and move to Tokio.

Yes, I was that fucked in the head.

So, this girl is nothing extraordinary. In fact, I will go out and say that she was the most "normal" person I've ever liked (I say "normal" because, well, she was a very active member of an Anime forum and that doesn't scream "I am Normal" as most Otaku like to believe). She was very cool, with a touch of innate happiness that is often the mark of someone who, if left by their own means, would probably give money to that lovely and friendly Nigerian prince that sent her an email recently about some economic help he needed.

She had a beautiful smile, and often made witty remarks about Life and the Universe. Although, to be honest, I thought they were smart and witty, but since I was 15 years old and I haven't had my share of Real Life slapped in the face yet, pretty much everything close to a fart joke would look to me like the words of Carl Sagan.

I remember that one time I wanted to give her a gift, but since I didn't have any money on me, I decided to steal a little teddy bear that my sister had (don't look at me like that, she has over 250 bears and she still haven't realized that I stole one of hers). Let's remember, I was an Otaku back then, and, of course, since I had a big crush on her, my mind (the war already started by that time) made all these scenarios where I would give her the bear and she would look like this:

Although a little more girly and pink. And less gay.

And things would degenerate into a kiss, and, maybe, if I'm lucky, I would be able to touch her Waifus.

But the bear had a little stain and it was really dirty, and in my rush of getting her the present (and steal it from my sister), I didn't check that out. So when I gave her the present...


G: I brought you a present *blush*
Her: Oh, Thank you, Ghondar-chan! It's lov-
G: *still blushing like a motherfucker* I thought about you when I bought it...
Her: Really? Because... it's dirty.
G: I... what?
Her: Yup, look.

"Father, why hast you forsaken me?"

I didn't know what to say. So I blamed the store, their mothers, the President, the UN and pretty much everybody I remembered.

In a way to make her forget about my little mistake, I invited her to watch a movie at a theater. It was some random movie with John Travolta, and I can't remember how it was or if it was any good (but seeing that his career isn't that good, I would bet that it wasn't). Anyway, after that, we went to Mc Donald's and we had a really cool time together. My mind started to think that maybe, maybe, I will get a kiss.

Please note how low my expectations were when I was a virgin.

After the dinner, she said that her father would pick her up, and that they could give me a ride home. Of course, I said yes. I mean, free ride dude!. I did not know how weird it was going to be.

So, we decided to wait for her father, and while we were waiting, we saw a police man near us arguing in English with some another dude close to us, and there were clearly communication issues. Now, for those who doesn't know, I live in a Spanish speaking country, and English, as you might have inferred from the mistakes I make and the grammatical holocausts that sometimes slips under the radar, is my second language. While I think my writing skills are at least average, my oral skills are somewhat clumsy and I confuse words and get very shy because I always think that I must sound like a retarded asshole with a speech problem.

Also I curse a lot, and, apparently, it's not a skill that is really accepted or encouraged. Their fucking loss, of course.

Demonstrating that my logic sometimes is dangerous but most of the times is outright stupid, I saw my opportunity to "prove" myself (whatever the fuck that means) in front of her. So I stepped up, and with the most masculine voice a 15 years old can make (which sounded like I was raping a banshee), I talked to the police:

G: *In Spanish* Let me help you, I know English
Policeman: *still in Spanish of course* Tell this asshole that he can't park here.
G: *To the English dude* He said that you can't park here, you have to move your car

And then, this English fucker spoke in one of those accents that comes from one of those forgotten towns in the middle of Bumfuck, one of those where there are 20 people living there, and they are all relatives. I'm pretty sure he was trying to call one of the Elder Gods. It was like the guy had a potato in his mouth.

I don't know what's more disturbing: the fact he has a potato in his mouth
or the fact that I find it slightly arousing.

My pride was completely destroyed. I was ashamed in front of the girl that I liked and, if anime was real, I would have to earn my honor back in a series of weird and strange situations. And nobody got time for that.

Soon, the father arrived, and we left the police man, the English dude and my completely and destroyed pride there. Fuck you, English dude. Fuck you. I really hope you went to jail that night, you deserve all the anal rape you could get there.

Before her dad started the car, he turned back at me (I was in the back seat, of course) and introduced himself:

"Hi, I'm her dad. Nice to meet you!"

Her dad was a beast. Really big, really intimidating, and with eyes that could search your souls and find your deepest sins. It was like the Penance Stare from Ghost Rider, but without Nicholas Cage and all that (sadly, because I fucking love that guy). I felt small, like an ant in front of a boot. All my charisma, all of my charming smile and fast talking were gone just like a fart in a storm (suck on that analogy, Oscar Wilde). I felt that every move that I made was under complete vigilance. He had one of those mustaches that made him look like the Big Brother and I felt like a small version of Winston Smith.

(See? Not everything is a dick joke around here. Sometimes we have quality).

This girl was sitting right next to me, and tried to have small talk with me, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. My mind went into full shutdown, and I couldn't, for the life of me, mutter any single word. I was completely and absolutely speechless.

Which was bad because years later after this date, she told me that around that time, she really liked me and was waiting me to make a move. Which, to be honest, is like waiting for me to not make any poop jokes around here.

He started to drive and I remember feeling his eyes on me, his eyes full of Death and Gore. He wanted an excuse. He wanted me to fuck up, to touch his daughter's hand. To smile at her. To even look at her. I felt that every single bad thing that would happen on the road, no matter how small or how out of my control were, he was going to blame me.

"Go on, talk to her. I've farted better men than you"

We arrived at my home, and all I could say was "heythanksfortherideseeyousoon", went out of the car and got into my house like there is no tomorrow.

"Is he gone? Can I touch her Sushi now?"

We lost contact with the girl after that date, until a couple of years later that we went to have a coffee, but nothing came out from that. It is a shame, really, that I didn't do anything.

I really wanted to make up for that dirty teddy bear.

Revenge of the Dipshit

(A.k.a. Pokemon Crystal run: Part II)

Quick recap: I got my first pokemon (the awesome Totodile, whose name I changed for the easier to remember ASSHOLE), went to see Prof. Elm, who was kinda a dick to me (actually, everybody, specially my mom were like that), then went to see another Poke dude (whose name I can't and will not care at all), and he gave me an egg. Apparently, since I'm the only dude who doesn't have shit to do, I have to give it to Elm, who lives in the other town (and because Fedex is not invented in this world), and I have to get there by walking. Look, just give me a bus ride, a fucking bike, something, for fuck's sake. I'm not your errand boy.

I left the house and heard a weird phone sound. I did not realized that I had one on me. So I answered (actually, the game answers for you, since it doesn't like you having free reign over your life apparently):

"I forgot to buy some milk. Please bring some.
Oh, and toilet paper. I've been using my own socks lately"

Elm's the kind of guy who exaggerates things. You know the type: His team lost a season match? "ITS THE WORST DISASTER SINCE THE HOLOCAUST!". So, I actually didn't care that much about his phone call. Tried to get to the other towns, but couldn't because the road is blocked, so the game is saying "Why are you even trying, dude? Get your ass to Elm's lab and stop being such a whiny bitch".

I tried and then, someone wanted to battle me:

What kind of shitty parent name their son ???

I was like "Dude, I don't know you, why the fuck would you want to battle me?". But he insisted, and well, I wanted to get rid of this fucking quest and finally be able to catch them all.

I kicked his ass like there's no tomorrow:

Awesome! My ASSHOLE reached level 7! And it learned a new move!

"Dude, I told you, no more Taco Bell"

Too bad this move is only a "status" move, meaning that it will affect things like Speed or Attack. I was expecting something like a hadouken made of explosive diarrhea. Oh well.

After battling that dude, I decided to check on the Pokemon Center, to heal the small damage that fucking idiot did to my ASSHOLE.

Fuck you, you are not my real dad.

This fucking bitch is weird, first she tells me that I'm out late, and the next second she said this:

"You could see my Pokeballs too"

Clearly she wants the dick. My logic is perfect.

I arrived to Elm's lab, and there was a police officer in there. Apparently, there was a break in and someone stole a Pokemon. Look, I don't want to say I'm the king of secure things, but c'mon, you left them right in the fucking table. I actually walked and took one right in front of your eyes. Your lab isn't Fort Knox. It doesn't take James fucking Bond to steal one of them.

Anyway, the police officer asked me for the name of that bastard:

I'm going to be a terrible father someday.

I have to choose a good name, because that's the name of my rival. My nemesis. The Moriarty of this Sherlock Holmes. His name has to inspire terror, has to be serious, has to be strong, has to represent everything that's bad in the world. And then, like something clicked inside my head, I knew it. I knew it.

"For Poland! And France! And Italy! And... well, pretty much everyone.
Dude was a dick, really"

Now, I had one more reason to hate the guy. His name was pure evilness. I had to combat him.

Besides, the first time we see him...

Dude, your hand... like... it's not cool, bro.

Kinda makes sense, right?.


Coming soon:
The first pokemons Dipshit captures (besides his ASSHOLE), and the first Gym Leader.

Ghondar's Pokemon Crystal Run (Part I)

Since I don't have much to tell about girls, I decided to focus my abstinence to a healthy game of Pokemon. You know, because nothing says to a girl "I'm a sex machine" like catching them all.

I downloaded a Game Boy Color emulator for my Android, and a totally legal ROM of Pokemon Crystal. The screenshots are all taken from there, and if they are small, well fuck you and your high resolution.

It's been a while since I played an old Pkm game, and to be honest, I'm used to modern incarnations of them. Last time I played was Black and White for the DS and they were so much new monsters that I felt like the game itself was laughing at me, since there's no way in hell I can catch them all now since they are like 400 of them. I still remember when there was only 151, AND WE LIKED IT THAT WAY.

NOW GET OFF MY LAWN, YOU YOUNG WHIPPERSNAPPERS.

Aham, anyway, decided to give it a try:

Allright!

So, here we go. Start of a new adventure...and we got to the first problem:

Is this a morally correct question? I mean, let's be honest here. We are in an age of information, of incredible possibilities. Every kid now has the amazing ability to learn about anything with just a quick google search. And I'm talking about anything. Little Sam, from Idaho, wants to learn where do babies come from? He can just type that shit and it will be displayed right there, in front of his little innocent eyes. He will leave childhood  right there.

With that in mind, more and more people are open to possibilities, to experiment sexually, to become whatever they want to be. They don't have to be just a man or a woman (or as the image implies, a boy or a girl). They can be so much more. 

Is this game some sort of challenge, philosophically speaking? Is Game Freak trying to reach to the masses and say "Wake up, your sexual destiny awaits you"?. To the Little Sam, who is starting to have weird feelings for his friend Tim?.

Or maybe not.

Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Anyway, I chose boy because I'm a boy and I don't like any dick that isn't mine. 

The time has come to choose a name. And, obvious seeing that I'm actually an adult, legally speaking, but I have the sense of humor of a 10 years old boy (actually, a 10 years old boy would be like Monty Python next to me. I still laugh like an idiot with poop jokes).

"Asshole" and "Cockface" were runner ups too.

Yeah, well, what did you expect from somebody like me?.

I started the game, and I went to say hello to my mother...

Hello there, you frigid bitch!

Went out, and tried to talk to the people at the village:

This is getting kinda personal

Even Professor Elm was trying to be a dick with me:

That was uncalled for, dude.

He told me to choose a pokemon from the three balls (hehehehehe) he had on his table. There were Totodile, the water pokemon and the one who looks like he's a crocodile on Acid. Chicorita, the one leaf bastard, and Cyndaquil, who was the fire one, and the one with the weirdest name ever (and we are talking about pkmns here, with weird names like GARBADOR, who is a bag of trash).

I chose Totodile, because he had that weird look in his eyes. A crazy motherfucker. He's like me.

We are going to be a great team together, motherfuckers!.

Elm asked me to talk to some Pokemon dude in other town, so I had to make my way there. Before allowing me to go, he gave me his number:

"Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy,
but here's my number,  so catch them maybe?"

I feel like it's kinda inappropriate to give a kid a pokemon and say "There you go. Good luck. Try not to get gang raped out there! Watch your holes! Oh, and you can call me anytime you want but we both know I won't move a fucking finger for you. See ya!". Dunno, maybe I'm a morally correct person.

Then again, I renamed my pokemon:

...I HAD TO!

See? I'm retarded that way. See, for example, my best bud ASSHOLE using one of his starting moves:

This shit writes itself

I'm going to have a lot of fun with this game.

Anyway, I arrived to the town in question, after battling a couple of those fucking things and found an old man who, for some reason, showed the way around and then told me where his house was. Cannot be the only one who really thinks it's really fucking creepy, right?.

And, acting like I was a whore who just blew him, he gave me this:

...I feel dirty inside

Dunno, my mother told me never accept things from strangers. But, then again, it IS a map card. Oh well, a quick blow and that's it.

After my work, I arrived to the Pokemon dude's house. There I was received with such hospitality that would make royalty jealous:

"Ehem, KING Dipshit".

 And after they tell me that I have to do a quest for them (like if I had any choice in the matter), they told me goodbye with a kiss:

Fuck you too, bro.

So, for now, here I am. Stuck with a quest I didn't want, removed from my home because my mother is a frigid bitch, and I have my only companion, my dear beloved ASSHOLE.

Didn't see that joke coming? You should know better by now.

The Rise and Fall of Mogo

My family and I are very close, so I didn't have any rebellious phase (and if I did, I'm pretty sure it was shot down by my parents and their "methods of persuasions"). We always went together, as a family, to holidays and all that kind of shit.

But, in 2007, I had my first taste of freedom: I went to the beach with a couple of friends. My friend rented a house with his family, and we tagged along. So, it was just a really small taste of freedom: We could go out everyday and get drunk and all that since we lived in the garage, not in the house. But that doesn't mean that there weren't any adults close by.

That was the first time that I wanted to go with friends to the beach. Two years later, I did.

And that's where I met Mogo.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

A couple of friends and me rented an apartment really close to the beach, and we spent there two weeks. Two blocks from where we were, there was the main avenue. We used to go there almost every night, just walking and talking. Just three guys, chilling. Nothing out of the ordinary.

One of those nights, I had to buy some presents for my family, and we entered to one of those shops where you can buy those little things with the name of the city on it, like a rock with "I (L) NameOfThePlace", or a cup. I even saw underwear, which would be a funny thing to give someone. "Hey, I found this thong and it reminded me of you, so you can keep me close by every day". Yup, I can see that being an awesome present.

I was single at that time, and to be honest, I saw this vacation as an opportunity to meet new people and get laid. You know, one night stands and all that. Never had any kind of experience in that regard, and all of my history of sex intercourse were pretty much with two girls, and those were my gfs. Not at the same time, mind you. Can you imagine? I have enough problems with one, two would be playing in Hard Mode. 

Blind. 

With my hands on my back. 

Anyway, we entered this store, and there she was, the shopkeeper. She was a redhead (I have such a fascination with redheads it almost borders with obsession. I'm pretty sure I was raped by one when I was a little kid, because there is no other way I can explain it), and she was talking to a couple of her friends. 

That's when I used all of my flirting moves that I saw in one of those movies where people don't wear a lot of clothes:

G: Hey, beautiful

Redhead: Hello, welcome to NameOfTheShop. How can I help you?

G: Well, you can start by giving me your number...

*And I give my most sexiest smile*

Your panties got wet by seeing him. I know it.

R: Well... nope.

G: I... what?

R: Can't give you my number. But I can give you hers...

And she points to one of her friends. I look at her, all in slow motion, and saw the greatest ass the World has ever known.

I might sound sexist (fuck, if this is what offends you, you have your priorities really screwed up, since you didn't say shit when I described a girl uglier than stepping on shit barefoot), but if asses were a form of currency, this girl would have been wealthier than Donald Trump. And without having the need of using those fucking weird wigs.

On a side note: Donald, you should kill your hairdresser. I'm pretty sure it's condemned by the UN that type of public humiliation.

This girl (Mogo, from now on) wasn't facing me. I was just looking at her ass. And then she turned to see me.

Picture the end of Rocky IV: Stallone is beating the shit out of Ivan Drago, because 'MERICA and all that. The people is excited, they are cheering for the guy who is the poster child for "Botox: Not even once". Before we get to see the credits, we see Stallone, who had his face completely deformed.

Well, Mogo looked worse.

"But Ghondar" You may say, "if she had that great ass, why didn't you tap it? It's not like you have to get married or anything like that". And that's because I have an asshole brain.

My brain, as you may recall, hates me. When I meet someone new, he makes me say things that I didn't want, makes me feel things that shouldn't be there, and, of course, he controls the rest of the body. Including the muscles of my face.

See where I'm going with this?

Well, for the few of you that you don't understand, here's a picture to illustrate my point:

Yes, including the 7:38 on my forehead.

Apparently, girls don't like it when guys express themselves like they have seen Thor's anus. I mean, what else could they ask for? I'm being honest here!.

Kids these days...

She took offense on my reaction, and I felt like an asshole... for twenty minutes. Christ, genes, get your shit together and give that girl some new face.

To be honest, I kinda regret that I didn't get her number, because I would have been the guy who fucked the Donald Trump of Asses. And that's something not everyone can boast about.

Unless you actually fucked Donald up his ass. 

God has plans for everyone (Including me)

I was in a relationship for four years. It was great, right up to the point where she decided to see if that old saying was true: "The dick is always tastier on the other side".

Yes, this is a really subtle way to say that I was cheated on. Me? Bitter? Fuck you.

In any case, leaving aside the pain that made me distrust of everything that's good and pure (therapy? No, thank you), when she left i was feeling a little down, as you can expect. I remember that I stopped sleeping and I felt very angry and lost. Started drinking, started behaving weird, and I'm really not proud to say that I started listening to Good Charlotte.

It was a very dark time.

One of my best friends, worried that I became full emo, said:

Friend: Dude, look, you have to forget about her.
G: I can't, man.
F: But look at you! You are 5 minutes away to tatoo Gerard Way's face on your shoulder
G: BUT HE UNDERSTANDS ME, HE IS THE ONLY ONE
F: GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF MAN!. Look, I have a solution... I want you to meet someone.
G: Johhny Walker? I met him. He said that you are a faggot.
F: You were talking to a bottle.
G: You are a bottle.
F: Just meet this girl and then tell me what you do think.
G: Allright. But who is she? Is she hot? Does she care at all for my heart?
F: You are the one talking about feelings and I'm the faggot. Good God. Anyway, she's.. really nice.

One of the lessons that I've learned earlier in my love life is that when a friend describes a girl saying that she's "nice", it's because she's ugly. If he says "Really nice", she's fuck ugly. And if she has a "great personality", Good Thor, you are going to meet Willy after that kid freed her.

So, my spider-sense was tingling, but at the time I thought it was just the pain of being alone. I ignore it. I shouldn't have. I would pay for that insolence in time.

I remember that I added her on Facebook, and look at her profile picture. She was really hot, with a little bit of sadness in her eyes. Yes, my mind was working full time now, and wanted me to go full retard on this. And, seeing that I have no self control, I obliged. Those pictures really threw me off. I mean, here I was, expecting her to be the reincarnation of the ugliest motherfucker in the Olympus, and nope, she was really good looking.

We started talking, first by private message, then a couple of days later by e-mail. After that, it came the text message and phone calls. Nothing out of the ordinary, we really liked talking about random shit and things like that. I made sure to tell her that I just left a relationship and that I would love to things to go really slow and cool. I was kinda freaked out on the "being in a serious relationship" again, and the idea of that made me nervous. So, I told her that a couple of times. She said yes.

Girls, when you say "Yes" to the question "Are we clear?", we guys think that you are actually okay with what has been discussed. Keep that in mind.

Anyway, I remember one day, I got off from work and went to a pub to have a drink with a couple of friends. Arrived at home mildly wasted and started playing Mortal Kombat, because my drunk mind thought that it was a really great idea to do at 2 a.m., and who am I to complain?.

There is one thing that I forgot to be clear here:

Up to this point, we still haven't met each other. Just pictures, phone calls and all the shit I already mentioned. So, it's not like we were already dating and all that.

With that clear, I'll continue.


As soon as I started playing, I get a couple of text messages that were of varying anxiety and time:

Text 1: "Hey, honey, I called you but you didn't answered. Will try later!" 22:50
Text 2: "Still not answered? Are you with someone else?" 23:10
Text 3: "The fuck do you think you are, man? Here I am, calling you and worried the shit out of my mind, and you are with another girl" 23:40

And then, my sister entered my bedroom, completely sleepy, with my home phone on one hand, saying that there was a girl on the other side of the line asking for me. I remember thinking "Holy shit, am I that shitfaced? Is this real life? Is this a fantasy?" and went to do such an air guitar solo that May would have been really proud of.

Maybe I was that shitfaced.

I answered the phone and...

Her: The fuck, man? Where the fuck you were?
G: What?
H: I called a lot of times and you weren't answering the phone
G: I'm sorry.
H: You were drinking, right? You know that God hates drunk people?
G: I... what?
H: Yes, it is said in the Bible.
G: ...allright.

And then she started talking on her own about God and all that. I mean, good for you if you believe in an imaginary friend in Heaven, but don't force me your ways. Unless you are Ben Kenobi. I would love to see Alec Guinness forcing me anything, if you know what I mean.

Anyway...

She hanged up, and I went to bed, feeling completely lost by the mystery of how, in the name of Godzilla, she got my home number. I never called her with that phone, only used my cellphone (so my family wouldn't have to answer and all that). That's a mystery that I'm still pondering, and it's been a couple of years since this girl. To make me feel better at night, I always think that God did it. Or Aliens. Whatever.

Hey, Bro, I gave her your number. No hard feelings, right?

A couple of days later, we were supposed to meet each other at a restaurant on Monday. Sadly, I felt a little ill that day and decided to call off the date. She was cool with it, but was a little worried about me. I said that she shouldn't, seeing that my own immunologic system was such a disaster, one day I would feel king of the entire existence, and the rest I would be completely wasted. So, we scheduled to the next Wednesday.

On Tuesday, almost 24 hours since I called off the date, she called me again and said that she talked about me to her fathers and all I'm hearing is my spider sense saying "HEY FUCKER I WARNED YOU, I WARNED YOU BUT DID YOU HEAR ME? NOOOO, YOU DECIDED TO THINK WITH YOUR DICK. SO FUCK YOU".
I remember that with my ex-gf, it took me almost a year to introduce her to my parents. A full year. And this girl already talked with them about me.

G: Really? You talked to them about me?
H: Yes
G: And what did they said?
H: That you are seeing someone else.

That sound, my fellow readers, is my brain trying to escape trough my ear, with messy results.

I convinced her that no, I wasn't seeing anyone (and I still don't know why exactly I did that, I blame my asshole brain), and asked that if she wanted to see each other the next day. She said alright.

But things wouldn't be as simple as it seems. That much is obvious, why I would be talking about her if the craziness ended right there?.

The next day, I arrived at the door of the restaurant, and I saw her. Good Zeus, I was shocked. She was hotter in real life. She saw me, smiled, came close and decided to check if I have any cavity. With her tongue.

She kissed me. Jeez, Do I have to explain my own analogies in my blog?.

That was the first indication that the night could be really good. And I was all for it. Yes, I will admit that I was thinking with my dick (because that worked before, right, Ghondar?), and was very curious on how the night would end. I expected sex.

SPOILER ALERT: I didn't get laid.
(Is that a spoiler at this point? It's like saying that Clark Kent = Superman is a spoiler)

We entered, ordered some food, and started talking. And everything went pretty cool, right up to the point of the desserts. That's when she dropped the first bomb:

H: I brought you two presents
G: Really?
H: Yes. First, a couple of books.
G: Hey, thank you! (That was a really nice gift, I have to be honest)
H: And then this.

And she gave me a cup. With my name on it.

With a heart at the end.

My.
Name.
With.
A.
Heart.
At.
The
End.

Did I make myself clear?


I almost went into a nervous breakdown, remembering all my problems with my previous serious relationship. I was terrified, to say the least.

G: Remember what we talked about?
H: Yes.
G: About my fear of comminment?
H: Yes
G: And this cup, it has a heart at the end of my name, right?
H: Yes. Do you like it?
G: ...yes, it is nice, but you remember that I said that we should take this slow, right?
H: But we are special.
G: I... what?

You are right, man.

I don't remember much of the rest of the night. I completely blacked out and went on auto pilot. I know that arrived home and those three words still shocked me. "We are special". Special like what? Like gold Kryptonite? Like an original Action Comics #1? Like the Holy Grail? That special? What the fuck that word means?

The next few days went by, with her calling me at all hours, and myself with close to zero patience. One day, she called me:

H: Remember your ex gf?
G: What?
H: She's dating that guy she cheated you with
G: What?
H: I'm telling you this so you can see that people move on
G: What?
H: And I will help you to move on.
G: What?
H: Because we are special
G: What?

I decided to end whatever the fuck we had right there. Couldn't stand any more of that "We are special" bullshit. And, let's be honest, that whole "telling about my ex gf current love life"? That shit aint cool. Not now, not ever.

I told her that, and she started crying. And then... the atomic bomb. The Tzar bomba.

G: I'm sorry, but you can't tell me that kind of stuff and think that I would be okay with it.
H: Yes. Because we are special. And God told me about our future kids.

Me.
Kids.

I'm the kind of people you wouldn't want to reproduce, and if I did, you would want to take the kids away from me. They would learn to order pizza before getting to kinder.
And there it was this girl, with her... God, or whatever, telling her that she should have kids with me.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is the proof that there is no God. Because no one can be such an asshole to Humanity.

I heard she started dating some other guy.

Poor, poor man.

But the sex would probably be fucking great.

The Soccer God

My relationship with my mind is really weird, to be honest. It's like he wants me to suffer. No, wait, I'm not saying this because I'm some kind of emo or something like that. I actually know that my mind is at war with me, and we have been like this since I remember feeling something for the opposite sex.

Before those times, I remember that we had peace, we were happy together, and we liked each other. Most of our weekends went pretty much like this:

Ghondar: Hey dude, what are we going to do this weekend?
Brain: Well, we still have to finish Revenge of the Shinobi and Sonic 2...
G: But what about going out with my friends?
B: What friends?
G: ...Good point. So, Sonic?
B: Sounds like a plan, bro.

It's not exactly news that I didn't have much friends when I was a little kid. But I remember the exact time when something just... clicked in me. I believe it was puberty, or the hormones, doing the first act in what it would become the war. They killed the Archduke Franz Ferdinand if, of course, by Franz Ferdinand we mean "Rationality". That's the moment when I met her: Gisela.

I remember very little about her, but what I do remember is that she wasn't the cutest girl ever. Not even close. She fell down the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down, and even then, she was used in a lethal experiment by the Army to see if you could use ugliness as a new way of warfare. Yes, she was that ugly.

But I will give her something: she liked soccer.

Now, for some context: This was 1998, and the World Cup was having place in France. To be honest, I didn't care at all about soccer the rest of the year, but for that month? I was a motherfucking Wikipedia. I knew everything about the teams, the coaches, the commentators, even the channels that used to broadcast the matches. I was *that* good. And in a class where pretty much everybody where male (and you could make an argument about Gisela on that) I was a God. The Alpha and the Omega of Soccer.

And I remember that one afternoon, we were all talking about one particularly good match and she was there. And I looked at her, and she laughed to one pretty stupid comment of mine. And that was it. That was the moment where I thought that she was cute. And something like this took place:

B: Hey, man, don't forget, we still have to beat Shinobi
G: Yeah, about that, I'm not sure I'm going to be able...
B: What? But dude, we have been planning this for weeks!
G: Yes...Look, can we do this any other day? I have to talk to her
B: But...

And that's when it started. Apparently, my brain is really jealous of me, and wants me to fail. Sometimes he boycotts my attempts of meeting new people by making me say stupid shit like how much I miss my ex or how long it has been since the last time I got laid (4 months, 23 days, 15 hours and 32 minutes... but hey, who is keeping count, right? that's a loser thing to do).

Gisela, on the other hand, well, she was very happy to see a guy talking to her, even when it's only about soccer. We spent one month talking about that pretty much every day. I remember that I even lent her a book about that World Cup, a really expensive book that costed me pretty much all my savings up to that point (which is not saying much, to be honest).

After that, when my knowledge of soccer went away like some fucked up genie wish, I went back to the back of the class, the kid who didn't talk and all that. But it wasn't the same. I started to have feelings for pretty much every girl I talked to, a quality that I'm not too proud to say that it hasn't gone away yet (and I'm 25).

In any case, the next months were really difficult. And when I say "months" I'm talking about the recollection of months called "years". I had to try to find a balance between what my brain makes me say and feel and what I'm actually feeling. So, yes, I said shit like "I love you" pretty much on the first date. And yes, I went on a 19 hours trip for a girl I loved. And yes, I might have killed that cat to show her that I loved her. But that's all my brain doing.

Well, maybe the cat was my decision. Fucking cat.

One day, Gisela didn't go to my class. Days became weeks, weeks became months. And, after a long time, I asked my teacher what happened to her. She moved out of the city.

And that bitch had my book.

So, Gisela, if you are reading this:

I want my fucking book. And, while we are at it, god damn it, girl, you were ugly. I hope you sued your parents or something like that.

Also, call me. It's been 4 months, 23 days and 16 hours since the last time I got lucky.

I'm back

...sort of.

You know, I've been asked a couple of times "When are you going to update your blog?". And I always respond "Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my toilet?".

In any case, these couple of months I've been having fun with my life. And I have material for a couple of posts, most of them about women. So, stay tuned, there will be news from me.

I say this like there's someone reading this.

I Dated a Xenomorph Face Hugger

(a.k.a Women: Part 2)

Years ago, when I was 17, I was in a relationship for 15 months. Incredible, fun, full of love, and kisses. We tried having sex, but she was freaked out and nothing happened (I mentioned her in the last post). She was my first girlfriend, and I thought I would marry her.

Then I found out she was cheating on me. Reality took his dick out and slapped me in the face with it.

Of course, I was heartbroken, and I was depressed for a month. But after that, I started trying to get into the game again. There was a local internet service that offered an IRC chat to meet people, and it was divided by age groups. In one of them, I learned about one of the truths of the Internet:

There are no girls.

Of course, there are exceptions, but I can't remember how many times I got confused with that. But, sometimes, you get lucky and get to know one of those few females that are around, lurking and trying not to get much attention. Her name was Jazmin.

I remember it like it was yesterday: we both were fucked over by our ex's, and we both were depressed and thinking that nobody would love us again. Of course, that gave us a lot of things to talk about, like how much we missed them, or that we would give everything to get them back. Common sense, as you can see, wasn't our most defining characteristic.

Of course, those talks lead us to try to know each other in another way. So, at the third or fourth talk, she send me a pick of her ass in a thong.

I'm not making this up.

"Not very subtle, aren't we?" I thought.

The picture was taken from under her skirt, and you couldn't see her face and her body, just her ass, which, I have to admit, it was pretty nice. Not incredible, but above average. On the other hand, the level of desperation I had could have been measured with a geiger counter. I was reaching critical mass. So, I put my head (the upper one) in stand by, and let the other one do the rest of the work.

I remember saying things like "I love you" and all that, and she "loved" me back. I put this in quotation marks because I'm not sure we ever felt anything, besides being horny as hell, and wanting to get some weird sort of revenge to our ex's. And that wasn't very subtle neither, we actually said that to each other. We used each other as a sort of emotional crutch, and that's was very clear from Day 1. So maybe that's the reason I'm not very sorry about how it ended.

We continue to chat over the Internet, but that wasn't enough, so we started to send each other text messages. Those started nice and fun ("Hey, I miss you :)"), kinda disturbing ("I found a guy in the streets that looks just like you, I followed him 6 blocks, he was scared LOL") to outright porn ("I JUST CAME THINKING ABOUT YOU GOD I WANT YOU TO FUCK ME").

Of course, those type of messages forced me to keep up to her level, and the product of that was some of the worst messages I've ever sent in my entire life. And I have sent some really nasty shit. I only can say that I wasn't aware that those things were illegal in my country, and I might not wanted to do everything that I said.

In any case, this started to escalate a lot, and of course, we started the phone sex. Yes, I admit it, I tried once phone sex. It isn't as sexy as it sounds, and you feel like an idiot when you realized that you basically just masturbated with a witness on the other side of the phone. And, of course, there's the risk of someone hearing you, or the battery on your cellphone just dying and leaving you with nothing.

But this was just the beginning. She started to write horny mails. She started to call to my home. And I was fucking cool with that. I cannot stress enough times that, up to this moment, I haven't seen her face or her body. Just her ass. That should have been a giveaway, that should have been a huge warning sign, but DUDE, SHE WANTED ME TO FUCK HER.

So, we took it to the next step. We decided to meet each other and have a lot of horny sex, like the pair of adults we were. We decided to go to see a movie, because we all know that in the darkness of the cinema, things can happen. The conversation went something like this:

Jazmin: "So, I want to see a movie"
Me: "What movie?"
J: "Cheaper by the Dozen 2"
Me: "...is there a sequel?"

Suddenly, I went to the Internet to check out some reviews, and I remember reading "Not only this is a Steve Martin movie (that just alone guarantees that it will be horrible), but Carmen Electra is in this film, and she isn't naked in any way during the movie". That should have been my second warning. But fuck common sense, that's for pussies.

We decided to meet in a local theater. I arrived early, so I had to wait. Remember, I haven't seen her at all, just her ass, and that was my only clue on how did she looked. My only option? Guess by the ass.

There was this redhead, who was coming right at me. I was excited, I love redhead. But no, she wasn't Jazmin. And then there was the blonde girl, but she met with some other dude. Both of them had awesome asses, but no, luck was not on my side.

Then, Jazmin arrived.

She looked like a little refrigerator, complete with the food inside her. Dressed like an anime character (can't remember which), she recognized me and I was "FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MET A STRANGER IN THE ALP- I mean, THE INTERNET". She said hello, and then... she kissed me.

Well, I'm using that verb in a broad, general way. It was like this:

Damn it. Damn it to hell.

We enter to see the movie, and damn it if I was going to suffer that again. I was more focused on the hijinks of Steve Martin and his family than her. There was just one moment, when she puts her head on my shoulder and I'm thinking "Ok, keep your distance, this is fine, everything is cool" and, making one of the greatest mistakes Homo Sapiens has made since the beginning of Time, I look at her.

DAMN IT, GHONDAR!

The movie finished, and she said something along the lines of "In this shopping mall, there are some stairs that are abandoned, and we can use it...". Luckily for me, I didn't have any condom, but I'm pretty sure she would have bought them if I asked. So I decided to mentally check my Book of Excuses © and grabbed the first 5 or 6 that occurred to me and said them. At the same time. I think it was something like this:

"Look I just got out of a terrible experience and it's not you but it's me and my mother doesn't want me dating and my dog just died and I think my uncle is in prison and I believe I have to get home early because I have to take care of my sister and I left the oven on and look really its late I gotta go see ya"

A couple of days later, I received an email from her saying that I was the lowest piece of shit in the whole universe, that she used her sister's picture to convince me to date her and she was dating someone else. I looked at the picture she sent me of the happy couple. She was very happy, but what really caught my attention was the guy. His face was...

I have never seen a more terrified look in the face of a human being.

I'm sorry, random dude, wherever you are now.
I hope you got all the horny sex I refused to have on a moral and ethical ground.