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.

Women

When I was 17, my family and I went to celebrate New Year's eve to my uncle summer house. This house is really fucking huge, and we stayed there for 4 days.

At that time, I was a virgin. But, of course, like most of the kids at that age, I was really expecting to stop being one, to enter the ADULT WORLD OF SEX ©, and stop being a kid. Most of my friends had already entered that exclusive group, and I wanted to be one of them.

But there was one problem:
Most of my knowledge of that world was from porn movies. So if, for example, we ordered pizza at home, I always expected that a hot chick would come to my door, only dressed with what legally could be called a tong and nothing more, say something like "But I want to see your pepperoni..." and started to blow me right there, at my home's front door (which, to be honest, would be fucking cool, seeing that the door was in front of a huge fucking avenue, with lots of people going around at all time).

I did have a girlfriend around that time, but she was really freaked out of getting pregnant, even when I assured that I would use two condoms at the same time. So, that was a dead end. My only opportunity was some outside force, some gift from the Universe in the shape of a horny woman. I prayed for that day, the day that I stopped being just "that virgin kid" to be "that guy who has a lot of sex".

(I'm still praying for that last part, but that's a thing for another day)

Like I was saying, I went to my family to that house, where I met my cousin's family (he's married and has a little kid). His wife had a sister. She was gorgeous. But really, this is not my nostalgia shaping things just to fuck me over. She was absolutely beautiful. And had a body that it would be a Maxim cover, if, of course, they wanted to have good sales that month.
I didn't care too much for her, because well, I figured that she had a boyfriend and all that. She wouldn't dare to lay eyes on me.

(Yes, I had low self stem around that time. Not that it's better now, though).

In any case, I was in one of the bedrooms, completely alone, with my playstation 2 hooked up to the tv, playing Metal Gear Solid 2, when she knocks the door. I let her in and she sits right next to me in the bed.

I realized that she's not wearing a bra (or at least, I couldn't see one from where I was), and started to talk to me. The next conversation is what the future historias will name "THE GREATEST MISSED OPPORTUNITY OF GHONDAR":

HotGirl: Hey, what are you playing?
Ghondar: Metal Gear Solid 2: Substance.
HG: What is it about?
G: Well, right now I'm playing as Raiden, but the main story of this saga is about Solid Snake, a clone of Big Boss, the greatest soldier ever. He died at the hands of Solid Snake in "Metal Gear 2", but his body was recovered, and the government created Solid and his brother Liquid Snake from his cells, and using the Super Baby Method...

*cue 10 minutes of Ghondar explaining to a girl the whole Metal Gear Saga*

G: ...And that's pretty much where I am right now in the game.
HG: (completely oblivious to my incredible detailed explanation) Oh. Right. So, wanna play another game?
G: Like what?
HG: Dunno... something we can play both of us... (and right here she smiles, it's really really sexy)
G: ...not following you.
HG: Well, there has to be some game we can both play... (she touches her shirt, slowly).
G: ...Pro Evolution Soccer?

She lets out a huge sigh, and left the room. I didn't care for that at all, and continued to play, like if nothing happened

I was a virgin for 4 more years.
Sometimes I wonder why.

How is this not racist?

G: Yes, my girlfriend is from another country.
RandomGirlAtWork*:Oh, nice!. I am not racist
G: Ok...
RGAW: For real!. My best friend is black, gay and brazilian.
G: You do know that telling those things about a person above all is racist, right?
RGAW: No way!. You are saying that because you are the racist.
G: You are the one who talks about your gay, black, and brazilian friend.
RGAW: No, I am not. I was just merely stating a point.
G: A racist point.
RGAW: Fuck you.


*A girl doing extra hours around here for the time being. She's hot as fuck, though.

On the other hand, I shouldn't be so hard (pun intended) on her, she's blond. And, well, we can't make fun of those people. That would be racist.



Yes, that was irony, thanks for asking.

I'm going to get fired for this

G: Hi, thanks for calling [Name of Help Desk], How can I help you?
User: Hi, my name is X and I'm having problems with my phone. Can you hear me?
G: No, I can't hear you, sir.
User: Oh, all right, will call you back later then.
G: Sure thing. Have a nice day, sir.

It's going to be a long day...

G: Hi, thanks for calling [Name of Help Desk], How can I help you?
User: Hi, my name is [Name] and I want to make a report
G: On what, sir?
U: My Microsoft doesn't work
G: Your what, sir?
U: My Microsoft, kid. Don't you know what it is?
G: Sir, Microsoft is a large software company that makes a lot of programs, for example, Microsoft Office, or Microsoft Windows. I need to know in what software the problem is, so I can help you.
U: The Microsoft, asshole. Are you retarded or something?
G: Sir...
U: Let me talk to your supervisor
G: Sir, I'm in charge of this shift.
U: FUCK YOU. *hangs up*

Conversations (Episode I)

Ghondar: So, you are cinema fan, right?
Random Girl: Yeah, I like a lot of movies
G: For example?
RG: Well, the matrix movies...
G: Go on...
RG: And that movie with the guy.
G: Guy?
RG: Yeah, the guy. With the beard. And he spoke in another language. The one with the controversy and the blood.
G: I have absolutely no idea of what are you talking about.
RG: C'mon! You know, that guy. The Jewish one.
G: ...The passion of the Christ? Is that the movie?
RG: Yeah, that one!.

Good luck I had to leave early. Although I would love to hear her description of the Matrix.