So none of us won the lottery. I use the word "us" because the only people who ever win the lottery live in trailers with 30 cats and never use shampoo. I will probably never meet any of you but I like to think that this applies to no one I know.
So I did what anyone would expect me to do. I wrote a letter to the Executive Director of the Texas Lottery Commission, Gary Grief.
Dear Gary Grief,
My name is Muden Siddiqui and like you, I have a funny last name. Now that we have established a common ground I would like to report a major error made by your people on Friday March 30th in the year of our lord, 2012.
Now Gary, I am not a snitch. I am an honest person with high values and solid morals but I am not a snitch. So when I tell you that your people made a grave error that has effected my life I want you to understand that it is only because my car needs new shocks. Do you know how expensive BMW parts are Gary? Let me give you a hint. I can't afford them.
We had a deal Gary. I elect you into office, pay taxes that pay your bills, buy you a house and in return you give me a lot of money and hold me accountable for none of the ignorant things I do with it. Well you guys not only failed to call out some of my numbers on March 30th Gary, you guys failed to call out ANY of them. I was absolutely dumbfounded by this breakdown in the basic fundamentals in business architecture. I pay for a service and you provide that service. What kind of idiot pays for numbers that I can make myself using only a pen and a dirty receipt that has been in my car for five years? They weren't even fancy numbers that I received. There were no exponents, no radicals, not even a lousy quadratic equation to make me feel good about myself.
I do not mean to vent Gary, but if we are going to be friends you need to understand how frustrated I am and how crappy my cars suspension is.
I am willing to accept an apology amount of $5,685 and two coupons for Burger King. This will cover my suspension job and maybe get me laid. Thanks Gary, I knew I could count on you.
Your friend and supporter,
Muden Siddiqui
Phone: ******
EMail: ******
I hope Gary responds. I also sent a letter to BMW asking if they do pro-bono work and another letter to Obama asking if he has any hawt cousins.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
My Personality Traits!
Somewhere, as I write this, there is a couple that knows they don't have a future together and yet they continue the act. Whether it's for the sake of being with someone or the fear of losing something you have grown comfortable with is irrelevant.
As a relationship professional* I have a theory on why this happens. It is a scientific fact that when you begin a relationship everything is perfect. It's like the your brain has the mud butt and just releases all the serotonin it would have used over the next seven years. You go through the motions and eventually you figure out you don't really like who this other person is. You can only hide who you are for so long and that is why I am going to go ahead and list out the characteristics that make me Muden. As a relationship professional* I am positive that this is a good idea.
10. I am not a fighter.
If the shit hits the fan and we find ourselves in a situation where I have to get physical... I hope you are not afraid to get physical because chances are I'm going to try to hug the guy in an attempt to smooth over any hard feelings. Now I know that sounds bad but women like a man who is mature enough to stay out of jail. I consider this a pretty good trait. As a side note I have to add that I WILL fight if the other guy is smaller than you and white.
9. I will never be that guy who just wants a sandwich and sex.
I like to eat until I'm miserable and I hate food and you for giving it to me. I cannot plan out my dietary day because it's just chaos. Just eating and shitting all day at random times whenever the mood strikes. I can eat a full meal and be disgusted with myself only to turn around five minutes later and eat a Jimmy John because if I was not full and hateful at the moment that sandwich would be delicious. There are kids in Botswana who would do anything for that sandwich so who am I to let it go to waste.
8. I am not a planner.
Everyday when I wake up I do a mental to-do list and get to it. Everyday, like clockwork, I get about halfway through my list, say "fuck it" and end up playing video games until someone calls me four hours later and then I claim to be doing "work" even though I have been on winter break for three weeks and I only work on weekends.
7. I am passionate about what I say.
When I say something I mean it. If I tell someone to do something I expect it to be done. So when my 2 year old niece wants to talk shit you can fully expect to find me calling her a heathen because anyone who will eat off of my plate and tell me we are not friends because I prefer Diego over Dorah is going to get cussed out. That's all I'm sayin. Diego is real.
6. I am an expert on anything you want me to be an expert about.
A long time ago I decided that women want a man who can converse with her about anything. Carrying that knowledge with me I have formed an amazing ability to bullshit my way through ANYTHING. I will draw parallels between things that are so amazing nothing alike that you will question your own logic. When employers ask me what my worst quality is I walk out with their job. I'm that good. \
5. I am so loyal that I am paranoid.
I have convinced myself that you have installed spy cameras in everything we own. I will put all my pencils in a drawer before picking my nose because I don't know what's in the eraser. You know what, let me rephrase that. YOU have convinced me that you have installed spy cameras in everything we own. I should just change the title on this one to "I am trained."
6. I am trained.
I was raised by women and have mostly female friends. I am fully aware that if I don't wash my dishes I will get stabbed while I sleep. I know I will never win an argument and I am ok with that. When I am single an argument with someone random could get physical and then I might have to hug a bum over some Rolaids. I would rather have no hope than get bum AIDS.
5. I am easily tricked.
I have no concept of time as long as there is a chance that I might get to touch your boobs at some point during the night. You want to finish doing your hair and I am asking if you are ready yet? Just do that thing where you push up your boobs and blow me a kiss. I'll be on the couch for the next three hours with my hands in my lap swinging my legs singing the "I get to touch them!" song.
4. I am a hopeless romantic.
I know women like romantic comedies and you always make those cooing noises when the guy finally gets the girl. Logically, if I can replicate this in my life I will always get the girl. It makes sense on so many levels. That being said, I will absolutely never get all weird and serious on you. Not until an hour and a half into the night anyway. I will also try to accidentally take medicine I know I am allergic to so that you have to care for me on your couch and then we have that moment where you ask me if I have to tell the truth and I say yes and you ask me something deep and I say the right thing and then you love me forever.
3. I am not capable of yelling at the woman I love.
See number ten.
2. I know you just want me to listen.
When you come to me with a problem I know you just want me to listen and sympathize with you. I know you want me to take your side no matter what I and I know that when you say "I hate that trick!" what you mean is "We hate that trick!" I don't need to control who I like and don't like anymore, I already tricked you into sleeping with me. I have achieved everything I needed to achieve by having a social life. Also, as a man I genuinely have no idea how to fix anything that doesn't require a screw driver and/or a hammer.
1. I will never be grossed out by you.
If you do it, I can assure that I have done worse. When I decide to open the sunroof while we are driving it's not because it's such a nice day out. I know it's going to mess up your hair. I just sat on the couch for three hours why the hell would I mess up my whole operation? Use your head woman, I just farted. It happens all the time and every time it happens I have to make a life or death decision. I don't refuse to take romantic baths with you because I'm taller than the average guy. It's because if some misplaced bubbles were to appear you would be less inclined to let me touch the boobs.
As a relationship professional* I have a theory on why this happens. It is a scientific fact that when you begin a relationship everything is perfect. It's like the your brain has the mud butt and just releases all the serotonin it would have used over the next seven years. You go through the motions and eventually you figure out you don't really like who this other person is. You can only hide who you are for so long and that is why I am going to go ahead and list out the characteristics that make me Muden. As a relationship professional* I am positive that this is a good idea.
10. I am not a fighter.
If the shit hits the fan and we find ourselves in a situation where I have to get physical... I hope you are not afraid to get physical because chances are I'm going to try to hug the guy in an attempt to smooth over any hard feelings. Now I know that sounds bad but women like a man who is mature enough to stay out of jail. I consider this a pretty good trait. As a side note I have to add that I WILL fight if the other guy is smaller than you and white.
9. I will never be that guy who just wants a sandwich and sex.
I like to eat until I'm miserable and I hate food and you for giving it to me. I cannot plan out my dietary day because it's just chaos. Just eating and shitting all day at random times whenever the mood strikes. I can eat a full meal and be disgusted with myself only to turn around five minutes later and eat a Jimmy John because if I was not full and hateful at the moment that sandwich would be delicious. There are kids in Botswana who would do anything for that sandwich so who am I to let it go to waste.
8. I am not a planner.
Everyday when I wake up I do a mental to-do list and get to it. Everyday, like clockwork, I get about halfway through my list, say "fuck it" and end up playing video games until someone calls me four hours later and then I claim to be doing "work" even though I have been on winter break for three weeks and I only work on weekends.
7. I am passionate about what I say.
When I say something I mean it. If I tell someone to do something I expect it to be done. So when my 2 year old niece wants to talk shit you can fully expect to find me calling her a heathen because anyone who will eat off of my plate and tell me we are not friends because I prefer Diego over Dorah is going to get cussed out. That's all I'm sayin. Diego is real.
6. I am an expert on anything you want me to be an expert about.
A long time ago I decided that women want a man who can converse with her about anything. Carrying that knowledge with me I have formed an amazing ability to bullshit my way through ANYTHING. I will draw parallels between things that are so amazing nothing alike that you will question your own logic. When employers ask me what my worst quality is I walk out with their job. I'm that good. \
5. I am so loyal that I am paranoid.
I have convinced myself that you have installed spy cameras in everything we own. I will put all my pencils in a drawer before picking my nose because I don't know what's in the eraser. You know what, let me rephrase that. YOU have convinced me that you have installed spy cameras in everything we own. I should just change the title on this one to "I am trained."
6. I am trained.
I was raised by women and have mostly female friends. I am fully aware that if I don't wash my dishes I will get stabbed while I sleep. I know I will never win an argument and I am ok with that. When I am single an argument with someone random could get physical and then I might have to hug a bum over some Rolaids. I would rather have no hope than get bum AIDS.
5. I am easily tricked.
I have no concept of time as long as there is a chance that I might get to touch your boobs at some point during the night. You want to finish doing your hair and I am asking if you are ready yet? Just do that thing where you push up your boobs and blow me a kiss. I'll be on the couch for the next three hours with my hands in my lap swinging my legs singing the "I get to touch them!" song.
4. I am a hopeless romantic.
I know women like romantic comedies and you always make those cooing noises when the guy finally gets the girl. Logically, if I can replicate this in my life I will always get the girl. It makes sense on so many levels. That being said, I will absolutely never get all weird and serious on you. Not until an hour and a half into the night anyway. I will also try to accidentally take medicine I know I am allergic to so that you have to care for me on your couch and then we have that moment where you ask me if I have to tell the truth and I say yes and you ask me something deep and I say the right thing and then you love me forever.
3. I am not capable of yelling at the woman I love.
See number ten.
2. I know you just want me to listen.
When you come to me with a problem I know you just want me to listen and sympathize with you. I know you want me to take your side no matter what I and I know that when you say "I hate that trick!" what you mean is "We hate that trick!" I don't need to control who I like and don't like anymore, I already tricked you into sleeping with me. I have achieved everything I needed to achieve by having a social life. Also, as a man I genuinely have no idea how to fix anything that doesn't require a screw driver and/or a hammer.
1. I will never be grossed out by you.
If you do it, I can assure that I have done worse. When I decide to open the sunroof while we are driving it's not because it's such a nice day out. I know it's going to mess up your hair. I just sat on the couch for three hours why the hell would I mess up my whole operation? Use your head woman, I just farted. It happens all the time and every time it happens I have to make a life or death decision. I don't refuse to take romantic baths with you because I'm taller than the average guy. It's because if some misplaced bubbles were to appear you would be less inclined to let me touch the boobs.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
I Would Pee On Them Too.
Four marines peed on the bodies of three dead Taliban soldiers.
Naturally this threw the world into an uproar.
It wasn't because the Taliban likes to send us movies of our captured soldiers having their heads sawed off slowly. It wasn't because after being bailed out of the crater left by the recession we are right back where we started. It wasn't because someone hit my car with their stupid remedial inbred door.
It was because four Marines peed on the dead bodies of three members of a militia who want nothing more than to destroy anyone with white skin who eats pork.
And while that is a generalization the likes of which you have never seen, it's not even the point.
What I am saying is who the hell are you to judge what they did? Who are you in your Mercedes Benz and your size 56 pants stuffing chocolate cupcakes into your fat fucking face while these guys are purposely stranded in a hostile environment where not even the camels want to be friends and every time they blink they lose someone they called a friend to some uneducated half wit religious freak who doesn't know enough about anything to realize that he is in fact the bad guy to EVERYONE in the world but his little circle of pathetic heathen two tooth having cave dwellers?
And what about the code of ethics that is taught to all of our service men and women? What about the guy next to you RIGHT NOW who picks his nose and wipes it on his shirt while watching Star Trek reruns until 3 in the morning. What about the lady across the room who has fucked so many guys she is giving serious thought to going on one of those talk shows where she just rolls a big ass wheel and whoever it lands on gets to be the "baby daddy?" Somewhere in Vegas right now there is a guy peeing on another guy who is masturbating while watching a lizard eat three grapes out of a WD-40 can top. What about that guy? With an active roster of more than 3.1 million members I'm pretty sure it's safe to say that not every one of our enlisted soldiers is a chivalric knight just waiting for his or her chance to save a damsel in distress.
As for what would posses a human being to do something like that, I suppose there are a number of explanations. Maybe they were bored because all of their friends were systematically killed by the very people they are now peeing on. Maybe that's why they said fuck it and whipped out the junior Marine squadron. Maybe they had loved ones in New York on 9/11. Maybe they watched those men plant explosives on a young child only to send them into a crowded market. And then maybe they are just some good ol boy hillbilly card carrying members of the NRA from West Virginia who joined the Marines for no reason other than to pee on some A-rabs. Any one of those work I'm sure.
So the story hits the media and of course talk radio blows it up because what the fuck else do they really have to talk about aside from Romney and how much Obama has raised in campaign funds. Caller after caller expresses how peeing on someone is wrong and those Marines need to punished. Thank FUCKING God we have these ethical experts on hand to clear up that moral quandary for me. I had to call a few friends to find out if I should be peeing on people or not. And you want to punish the Marines? Sure. No problem. YOU GO TAKE THEIR PLACE IN THE DESERT WITH AKBAR TAKING POT SHOTS AT YOUR FACE WITH A GUN YOU PROBABLY SOLD HIM 30 YEARS AGO WHILE THEY SIT IN JAIL ESSENTIALLY DOING WHAT WE ALL WOULD HAVE DONE ASSHOLE.
I do not condone peeing on another human being. I am not saying they had every right to so. I AM saying that if someone was trying to kill me and I got them first... I may pee on them too. Hell I would probably pee on a guy for cutting me off in traffic. Whatever the reason they had, it happened and we need to move on. Instead we have these big wig politicians roaring and bellowing into the American public demanding justice. How about you focus on not banging little boys from Thailand and then we can talk about whether or not you are qualified to judge these four young men who are fighting your war for you.
Naturally this threw the world into an uproar.
It wasn't because the Taliban likes to send us movies of our captured soldiers having their heads sawed off slowly. It wasn't because after being bailed out of the crater left by the recession we are right back where we started. It wasn't because someone hit my car with their stupid remedial inbred door.
It was because four Marines peed on the dead bodies of three members of a militia who want nothing more than to destroy anyone with white skin who eats pork.
And while that is a generalization the likes of which you have never seen, it's not even the point.
What I am saying is who the hell are you to judge what they did? Who are you in your Mercedes Benz and your size 56 pants stuffing chocolate cupcakes into your fat fucking face while these guys are purposely stranded in a hostile environment where not even the camels want to be friends and every time they blink they lose someone they called a friend to some uneducated half wit religious freak who doesn't know enough about anything to realize that he is in fact the bad guy to EVERYONE in the world but his little circle of pathetic heathen two tooth having cave dwellers?
And what about the code of ethics that is taught to all of our service men and women? What about the guy next to you RIGHT NOW who picks his nose and wipes it on his shirt while watching Star Trek reruns until 3 in the morning. What about the lady across the room who has fucked so many guys she is giving serious thought to going on one of those talk shows where she just rolls a big ass wheel and whoever it lands on gets to be the "baby daddy?" Somewhere in Vegas right now there is a guy peeing on another guy who is masturbating while watching a lizard eat three grapes out of a WD-40 can top. What about that guy? With an active roster of more than 3.1 million members I'm pretty sure it's safe to say that not every one of our enlisted soldiers is a chivalric knight just waiting for his or her chance to save a damsel in distress.
As for what would posses a human being to do something like that, I suppose there are a number of explanations. Maybe they were bored because all of their friends were systematically killed by the very people they are now peeing on. Maybe that's why they said fuck it and whipped out the junior Marine squadron. Maybe they had loved ones in New York on 9/11. Maybe they watched those men plant explosives on a young child only to send them into a crowded market. And then maybe they are just some good ol boy hillbilly card carrying members of the NRA from West Virginia who joined the Marines for no reason other than to pee on some A-rabs. Any one of those work I'm sure.
So the story hits the media and of course talk radio blows it up because what the fuck else do they really have to talk about aside from Romney and how much Obama has raised in campaign funds. Caller after caller expresses how peeing on someone is wrong and those Marines need to punished. Thank FUCKING God we have these ethical experts on hand to clear up that moral quandary for me. I had to call a few friends to find out if I should be peeing on people or not. And you want to punish the Marines? Sure. No problem. YOU GO TAKE THEIR PLACE IN THE DESERT WITH AKBAR TAKING POT SHOTS AT YOUR FACE WITH A GUN YOU PROBABLY SOLD HIM 30 YEARS AGO WHILE THEY SIT IN JAIL ESSENTIALLY DOING WHAT WE ALL WOULD HAVE DONE ASSHOLE.
I do not condone peeing on another human being. I am not saying they had every right to so. I AM saying that if someone was trying to kill me and I got them first... I may pee on them too. Hell I would probably pee on a guy for cutting me off in traffic. Whatever the reason they had, it happened and we need to move on. Instead we have these big wig politicians roaring and bellowing into the American public demanding justice. How about you focus on not banging little boys from Thailand and then we can talk about whether or not you are qualified to judge these four young men who are fighting your war for you.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
New Year, Less Muppets
Every year for the last 2,012 years a new year has started on January 1st. Why this still surprises everyone absolutely baffles me. People are super surprised that 2011 is already over and asking where the time went and I'm thinking, "Really? Because I knew the EXACT TIME AND DATE that the new year would start and I still didn't do anything about it."
And it's not that I'm lazy. I'm just a realist and I am ok with the fact that I don't have a 6 pack and a super fine girl friend who isn't also bat shit crazy. You can't have both. I know that. You either have super fine or bat shit crazy and I evidently signed something somewhere that said I always opt for the crazy ones.
That's the thing though. I don't hinge my desire to better myself on the changing of the year that means absolutely nothing to anyone but calender makers and the Mayans. And the Mayans played basketball with peoples heads. I'm just sayin is all I'm sayin. I generally try to do the opposite of EVERYTHING they did. Calender makers aren't that bad I suppose. Not at all really. It's the consumers of these calenders that concern me. Any grown man who has a calender of women in bikinis in his bedroom is probably a creeper. Just a heads up ladies.
Regardless of how many times you are surprised by the exact same date and time every year, new years eve is a time of celebration and I get that. Hell, I myself like to make glorious toasts at stranger's parties like I am the most famous person in the world. What I don't like is the awkward moment at 11:55pm when you realize you don't have anyone to kiss but the girl who looks like the cookie monster and/or elmo and you aren't sure how you feel about muppet herpes. There is no amount of hooker sex that can wash that away.
So I wish you all a happy new year and a fresh start in 2012 aka Sunday. I hope at least one of you sticks to your resolutions and I pray to all the deities that have ever been worshiped that I don't make out with a muppet this year.
Raise your chin and raise your glass,
Muden
And it's not that I'm lazy. I'm just a realist and I am ok with the fact that I don't have a 6 pack and a super fine girl friend who isn't also bat shit crazy. You can't have both. I know that. You either have super fine or bat shit crazy and I evidently signed something somewhere that said I always opt for the crazy ones.
That's the thing though. I don't hinge my desire to better myself on the changing of the year that means absolutely nothing to anyone but calender makers and the Mayans. And the Mayans played basketball with peoples heads. I'm just sayin is all I'm sayin. I generally try to do the opposite of EVERYTHING they did. Calender makers aren't that bad I suppose. Not at all really. It's the consumers of these calenders that concern me. Any grown man who has a calender of women in bikinis in his bedroom is probably a creeper. Just a heads up ladies.
Regardless of how many times you are surprised by the exact same date and time every year, new years eve is a time of celebration and I get that. Hell, I myself like to make glorious toasts at stranger's parties like I am the most famous person in the world. What I don't like is the awkward moment at 11:55pm when you realize you don't have anyone to kiss but the girl who looks like the cookie monster and/or elmo and you aren't sure how you feel about muppet herpes. There is no amount of hooker sex that can wash that away.
So I wish you all a happy new year and a fresh start in 2012 aka Sunday. I hope at least one of you sticks to your resolutions and I pray to all the deities that have ever been worshiped that I don't make out with a muppet this year.
Raise your chin and raise your glass,
Muden
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Stupid Is Winning.
The stupid people are out-breeding the smart people by like 200 to 1 and it is going to take a natural fucking disaster of Biblical proportions to even the odds.
Let me explain how I got there.
It is a tragic truth that stupidity and ignorance have become the societal norm in American culture. One cannot explain the synopsis of Jersey Shore without first viciously slamming their face into a wall to knock a few brain cells loose to ensure that no words containing more than 2 syllables are used. Anything involving anything remotely Kardashian? Pathetic. The Kei$sha, Drake, Beiber pop music scene? Idiotic. With the plethora of intellectual movies at our disposal I am simply dumbfounded that the horribly juvenile and Disney-ish Twilight Saga remains the king. Harry Potter has more substance and that's kind of sad.
Harry Potter was written for children. Don't fight it. Just accept it. Twilight was written for preteen girls. If you are a guy and you like it, you are probably gay. Don't fight it. Just accept it.
Still with me? The paragraphs get big here. If you stop scrolling the mouse wheel it's kind of like a pause button for the internet. You're welcome.
With every passing conversation we are reminded that as someone who strives to achieve intellectual enlightenment we are the minority. When what starts out as a plan to visit an exhibit displaying the newest archaeological finds on subject X, Y or Z quickly deteriorates into, "Let's go watch airplanes fly in the sky!" it hurts in my soul.
And none of this is disputed. For the most part everyone likes to think that they are decently intelligent. These are the same people who use "know" instead of "now" or "no" and end every other sentence with a misplaced dot dot dot. But that's not the point. Nobody wants to admit that they are slowly circling the drain into mental retardation and that's probably because most people don't know that "mental retardation" is not a derogatory term. That's like telling a stripper she made bad life choices. It's not an insult, it's just the way it is.
So where do we lay the blame then? Surely in America we can find SOMEBODY to blame. The obvious first stop on the blame train is the educational system in our public schools. They would confute any arguments with standardized test scores and levels of extra curricular activity participation. Impressive enough. However these are the same schools that make you drive twenty miles per hour so that you don't run over the 14 year old crack fiends who barely pass English class while chewing on erasers. How the HELL do you almost fail your own language? How is that even possible? What other language could you possibly know that confused you so much that you couldn't even bullshit your way through a paper like everyone else? Unless your parents are crackerjack white and you can speak fluent Zimbabwean I have to wonder if the short bus was full that year. But back to the speed zones. They have to stop. If your child is 14 and has not figured out how not to get hit by a car it may be time to let Darwinism do its thing. Don't stand in front of things that are bigger than you when they are moving. How is that not obvious?
Do we lay the blame with the parents? I think it truly depends on the generation. Our generation grew up with imaginations and bloody knees. Playing outside was glorious and coming in for dinner was punishment. Now children are punished by being forced outside to interact with other children. Any chances of aliens discovering the ruins of our culture thousands of years from now and saying, "Hey wow these guys were pretty damn intellectual!" goes right out the window after my generation dies. There will be no authors. There will be no artists. There will be no composers. There will only be horrible hipster stick figure drawing self-diagnosed ADD having pill heads who carry a sense of self worth that is so falsely inflated it may have had everything to do with whatever catastrophic events ends our civilizations forever. Why? Because Stephen King has 126 NY Times best sellers and Kei$ha has more money. Fuck it. Because Stephen King has best sellers period. How the hell does an ugly ass chubby chick sing songs about how hot she is and nobody says anything but Kim Kardashian has a fake marriage and we flip the fuck out? Did you really think that was about love? Seriously? You kinda just proved my entire point.
We live in a time when having an intellectual debate on philosophy, history or science is "a rare treat" and for whatever reason we only date people who will never EVER be able to have a conversation like that with us. It's like we are genetically hardwired to only breed stupid from here on out and that's why I'm a big advocate of the avian flu. The stupid people are out-breeding the smart people by like 200 to 1 and it is going to take a natural fucking disaster of Biblical proportions to even the odds. Bring on the floods Moses, I'm smart enough to use parts of my fence as a boat. It's the guy next door who'll be wading chest deep in water holding an umbrella and taping straws to his kids noses so they can "breathe like elephants when they float on their backs" who you need to be focusing on.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
How To Find Your Soulmate... Kind Of.
I’ve never actually used a pick up line. I suppose I am what you call a friend-zone ninja. I come out of the shadows and stumble around in the hallways of your heart for awhile until I trip on a lamp cord and smash your favorite vase. At which point we both realize I have been here all along and we move right into crazy monkey sex. It’s not the most glamorous of methods but when I stray away from waiting for love to fall into my lap I always end up in situation like “the ex.” My God that was an awful experience. I had never actually used the words crackhead and heathen in the same sentence before her. Hard to believe. I know.
But there were a few lessons to be learned from that experience. First and foremost, if she looks like she’s been on a 3 day coke binge she probably was. And secondly, attraction and intellectual stimulation are two very different things. Unfortunately that is never really evident until it’s too late.
So how then do we as men (and those who watch Jersey Shore) make this distinction? That’s not really up to us. I mean, you COULD stay home on Saturday nights and hide behind the premise of saving yourself for the right one. But let’s face it, rubbing one out to some dumb ass blonde doing the pretzel on Bang Bus isn’t really the scenario any woman wants playing out while fate is slowly bringing you two love birds together. Imposing an unofficial house arrest on yourself is a slippery slope indeed my friends. Before you know it , you will find yourself sitting in front of your computer screen at 3 in the morning after a 7 hour session of World of Warcraft picking your nose with the “clean part” of yesterdays sock because it somehow feels more dignified than just sticking your finger up there and wiping it on your “sleeping pants.” Sure you aren’t spending money on drinks and you aren’t going through the motions of an ultimately meaningless relationship resulting in the waste of another year of your life putting you on the wrong side of thirty with no kids and no one to wash your booger socks. It’s totally worth it right?
The unfortunate fact of the matter is that women hold all the cards when playing the “looking for something that will last” game and we have nurtured that monopoly since the day we first stepped foot into a nightclub. What’s even more unfortunate is that when you really are in a place where you are ready to settle down and diddle only one person you have the horrible challenge of competing with guys who are absolutely not looking for anything but do a damn good job of pretending otherwise.
Do you then just give up? I mean, who WOULDN’T want a level 75 Mage with a flying unicorn and a magic wand of +100 stamina?! No. The truth is it’s a crap shoot. The same way that woman you just KNOW you would be perfect for is dating some ass hat who doesn’t know the difference between Rome and Athens because she has no choice but to throw her darts and hope she hits a bulls eye at some point before she hits 35. After that it’s pretty much a free for all on both sides of the gender wall and works on a first come first serve basis. (I am sourcing that information to Shayne’s Nightclub on FM 1960.)
The point I am making is sitting and waiting will get you nowhere. There is absolutely nothing working in your favor and sitting on your hands is an idiotic plan of action. There will never be a magic solution to finding your soulmate. You just very simply have to stand up and tell someone how you feel. I'm not saying tell someone you could see yourself married to them. HOLY SHIT DON'T DO THAT. But throw your darts out homie. You'll never find someone if you don't know how to make an awkward situation even more awkward and still come out on top. If they give you a chance, great. If they make a strange face and come up with an excuse it's perfectly ok to go all Buffalo Bill all over their ass. (That's not true.) If the woman you were “waiting” on hooked up with someone else... oh well, move on. If some woman in the grocery takes your breath away and you would like to get to know her... do it. If you find yourself unable to bare the thought of a life watching your female friend cry over other guys... maybe it’s time you stopped hiding behind archaic assumptions of what does and does not work. Love is a risk and playing it safe is a pathetic attempt at making something poetic out of something as mundane and bland as uncooked spaghetti. I wont lie, I’m not real big on approaching someone unless they give me a sign. I’ve been head over heels for someone and just let them walk right by and into someone else because while I’m all about taking a girl home from the bar, I’m not so good with putting my heart on my sleeve and hoping someone is careful with it. That usually ends with me in a couchless apartment staring out the window with an odd sense of calm as I watch them take the headlights out of my car with a 9 iron.
One day I’ll be able to follow my own advice. Until then I’ll see you guys Tuesday for the raid on Ragnaros. I’ll be bringing my Warlock.
But there were a few lessons to be learned from that experience. First and foremost, if she looks like she’s been on a 3 day coke binge she probably was. And secondly, attraction and intellectual stimulation are two very different things. Unfortunately that is never really evident until it’s too late.
So how then do we as men (and those who watch Jersey Shore) make this distinction? That’s not really up to us. I mean, you COULD stay home on Saturday nights and hide behind the premise of saving yourself for the right one. But let’s face it, rubbing one out to some dumb ass blonde doing the pretzel on Bang Bus isn’t really the scenario any woman wants playing out while fate is slowly bringing you two love birds together. Imposing an unofficial house arrest on yourself is a slippery slope indeed my friends. Before you know it , you will find yourself sitting in front of your computer screen at 3 in the morning after a 7 hour session of World of Warcraft picking your nose with the “clean part” of yesterdays sock because it somehow feels more dignified than just sticking your finger up there and wiping it on your “sleeping pants.” Sure you aren’t spending money on drinks and you aren’t going through the motions of an ultimately meaningless relationship resulting in the waste of another year of your life putting you on the wrong side of thirty with no kids and no one to wash your booger socks. It’s totally worth it right?
The unfortunate fact of the matter is that women hold all the cards when playing the “looking for something that will last” game and we have nurtured that monopoly since the day we first stepped foot into a nightclub. What’s even more unfortunate is that when you really are in a place where you are ready to settle down and diddle only one person you have the horrible challenge of competing with guys who are absolutely not looking for anything but do a damn good job of pretending otherwise.
Do you then just give up? I mean, who WOULDN’T want a level 75 Mage with a flying unicorn and a magic wand of +100 stamina?! No. The truth is it’s a crap shoot. The same way that woman you just KNOW you would be perfect for is dating some ass hat who doesn’t know the difference between Rome and Athens because she has no choice but to throw her darts and hope she hits a bulls eye at some point before she hits 35. After that it’s pretty much a free for all on both sides of the gender wall and works on a first come first serve basis. (I am sourcing that information to Shayne’s Nightclub on FM 1960.)
The point I am making is sitting and waiting will get you nowhere. There is absolutely nothing working in your favor and sitting on your hands is an idiotic plan of action. There will never be a magic solution to finding your soulmate. You just very simply have to stand up and tell someone how you feel. I'm not saying tell someone you could see yourself married to them. HOLY SHIT DON'T DO THAT. But throw your darts out homie. You'll never find someone if you don't know how to make an awkward situation even more awkward and still come out on top. If they give you a chance, great. If they make a strange face and come up with an excuse it's perfectly ok to go all Buffalo Bill all over their ass. (That's not true.) If the woman you were “waiting” on hooked up with someone else... oh well, move on. If some woman in the grocery takes your breath away and you would like to get to know her... do it. If you find yourself unable to bare the thought of a life watching your female friend cry over other guys... maybe it’s time you stopped hiding behind archaic assumptions of what does and does not work. Love is a risk and playing it safe is a pathetic attempt at making something poetic out of something as mundane and bland as uncooked spaghetti. I wont lie, I’m not real big on approaching someone unless they give me a sign. I’ve been head over heels for someone and just let them walk right by and into someone else because while I’m all about taking a girl home from the bar, I’m not so good with putting my heart on my sleeve and hoping someone is careful with it. That usually ends with me in a couchless apartment staring out the window with an odd sense of calm as I watch them take the headlights out of my car with a 9 iron.
One day I’ll be able to follow my own advice. Until then I’ll see you guys Tuesday for the raid on Ragnaros. I’ll be bringing my Warlock.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Grandma Siddiqui
Sometimes it is necessary to carry the pain for some time before you can process the sinister wave of sadness that crawls through your thoughts and over your heart. Sometimes it is better to rip a part of your life from yourself like an old band-aid. In either case the hurt remains.
I think you were the most giving person I have ever known. I think you gave us one last gift in your hesitant passing, and I do not think I know how to thank you. You gave us time to explore the hurt and step slowly into the reality of a world that will be a shade darker without your smile to ignite the fires that made the sun shine brightly on us all.
You granted us the chance to uncover our heads and reveal our souls. And in doing this you have given something so profound it leaves me breathless and lifeless in its enormity.
I am not ready to truly say good bye just yet. I do not know that I will be soon. Surely, I will carry this with me for some time before I can let go and talk about you or visit your home without falling from my facade. My victories. My failures. My strengths. My short comings. You were the silent judge who never passed judgement. It was a figment of my own mortal imagination and with your passing I am unsure of how to even finish that statement.
I miss you more than I thought I could.
When the matriarch passes I struggle to see the beauty that lies within the sadness. I do not see these tears turned to pearls.
But I am sure they are there.
Love Always,
Mohammed Kaleemuden Siddiqui
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