written on: 7/30/07

posted by: cheeba

Viva Las Vegas. 14:27 PST Holy crap, I haven't updated this thing in like FOREVER. I'm in Las Vegas at the Black Hat convention having the time of my life, and I'm going to Defcon this weekend. Woo, nerd overload! I have so many stories to tell, but no motivation. *sigh* I'm trying to handle one last portion of my life, and it's got me a bit down, but I won't give up until I've got it covered. In the meantime, if just ONE person e-mails me, I'll do an update. ONE person, other than you know who (she knows who I mean). Otherwise, I'll sit here and mope until I am ready to grace ya'll with my interweb goodness once more. Until then... || Stroke My Ego | Comments (0) | Am I A Loser? ||

written on: 4/09/07	posted by: cheeba
Icy Hot is Hot! 06:51 PST If you haven't already, go see Grindhouse. Man, that movie is three hours of non-stop hilarity, ridiculous gore, hot chicks, and memorable quotes out the ass. You shall not be disappointed. If you need convincing, read this review. Update coming in a few days. || Stroke My Ego | Comments (0) | Am I A Loser? ||

written on: 3/25/07

posted by: cheeba

The Story of Running Wolf, Pt. 2. 08:21 PST so i walk up to the bar and i notice that my native american friend, here on known as "running wolf", is already on his third beer. i walk up to him and say, "hey man, the girls are supposed to be getting drunk, not you." he laughs, shakes my hand, and then tells me i look hot. "you don't look like you have trouble with women." ok, ok, so he didn't exactly tell me i was attractive but being that this guy could be an internet weirdo, my gaydar was on full blast. so at that point i begin thinking back in my mind, trying to remember if him and i did or did not, infact agree, that buttsecks was out of the question. ok, yep, i do remember telling him that the barstool should be the only hard object pressing up against my ass that night but wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt, i say "waddya mean by that bro?" he then goes on to explain to me that i dress well and look like i work out, so i shouldn't have much trouble with women. his explanation sounds "no-homo" to me, so i proceed with the night. i grab a beer, sierra nevada pale ale of course, and we sit and begin to devise a game plan to pimp da hoes. while we're speaking, waitresses are passing by and my eyes keep drifting to the side like a hammer head shark, or meena suvari, whichever imagery works for you. his head doesn't shift an inch so i ask him, "don't you think she's hot?" and he replies "well, i like my girls with a bit more meat on em. and latin, not white." "fine," i say, and tell him to show me some girls he finds attractive when we get outside so i can point out any cute girls i see that match his taste. after he finishes beer number three, to my surprise, he says that we should GO GET MORE BEER. *sigh* he wants us to take his car to go hit up a convenience store so we can grab alchohol, get some cash from the atm, and oh yeah, sit in the parking lot and watch seduction training videos on the laptop he has mounted in his car for this very purpose. do i sound like i'm joking? we walk to his truck and i have the following discussion with myself: Highly Improbable Reenactment self: are you fucking retarded dude? you're following a complete stranger to his car in a dark parking lot and the only form of defense you're packing is a broken pez dispenser. cheeba: yeah, but, we said "no homo" and considering how much i suck at approaching girls, if he murdered me he'd probably be doing me a huge favor. self: quite true. cheeba: fuck you! i mean, fuck me. err, you know what i mean. Breaking Teh Law: so we get to his car, and drive off. i ask him if he forgot to put on his seat belt because i'm pretty anal about that, even in other people's cars. he watches me and scoffs as if nothing brings out manliness more than flying through a windshield and being serrated by jagged glass. the only thing more badass, i suppose, would be crashing into a tanker filled with "axe" body spray, then doing the whole windshield/ejection/death thing. "no problem" i say, we all break the law at times and if we crash, i have my belt on so i'd just stagger away from the wreckage and leave the scene like an uninsured mexican. redundant? we buy a six pack of heineken beer at a nearby gas station. as we're leaving, he tells me that he has to grab some money from the atm so he gives me the keys to his car and says i can start watching the dvd's in the meantime. "keys to your car? sure, no problem. good thing we've known each other FOR THIRTY WHOLE MINUTES and I WON'T GTA YOUR CAR or anything." is this dude for real? i give him back his keys and tell him i'll wait. we get to the car and he instantly cracks open two beers at once, starts the car, moves that pesky seatbelt out of the way and begins driving, effectively now breaking two laws SIMULTANEOUSLY. i am so gonna die. please trust me when i say that texas is the WORST place in the world to ever have to get pulled over by a cop. and be young. and not white. shit, i'd probably catch a public intoxication case for eating rum raisin ice cream. i had intentions of clubbing that night, but the rodney king variety is soo not what i had in mind. we get back to our original destination, park up, and begin studying the video, coming up with different scenarios and different approaches we were going to use. everything sounded good and the six pack of beer is now finished. i had two. out of six. are you keeping count? that's three for me, seven for him. i think he may have a slight anxiety problem. we're walking to a nearby club so i tell him to start pointing out chicks he finds attractive. this is where things jump from "weird" to "someone please kill me". Highly Improbable Reenactment 2 rwolf: ok, she's my type. *points to girl* me: holy lolita batman, she's like 13 years old! rwolf: oh shit, i have trouble seeing at night. ha ha. ok, her. *points* me: fucksticks, that's an old lady. rwolf: uhm, ok that one *points* me: *stares at him* rwolf: what? me: that's a guy with long hair. forget it yo, let's wait for your alcohol to wear off a bit before we head inside the club. it took us a half an hour waiting in line to get inside. we head straight to the bar because running wolf needed, and you'll never guess, another drink. he walks up to the bartender and says, "heeey, how's it going man? you remember me from last weekend? that night was a blast!" the bartender looks at him like he's fucking retarded, says "whatever man, if you say you know me, then it's all good. what you guys drinking?" we both do a shot of patron silver tequila. they cost eight bucks a piece. we didn't have to pay. this guy may not be so bad after all. we walk through the club and he's hugging girls and high fiving more guys than borat. very nice! he seems popular so our job should be easy. he grabs one of his friends, a female thank god, and drags her to the dance floor. i high five him, tell him let's keep checking our phones in case we can't find each other, and i head off in a separate direction to do my own thing for a bit. so i'm making my way through the club and i would say i was "walking", but i don't think stumbling around saying "sorry! excuse me. oh shit! did you just grab my testicles? ok, cool homie, just checking." would remotely count as "walking." i mean, this ain't a quentin tarantino movie, but the club should just be renamed "grindhouse" as i felt more things poke me in the ass that night than the time i recanted my infamous enema story. i must have showered for two hours when i got home. believe it or not, homo is extremely hard to wash off. i get on the dance floor and begin dancing. at least that's what i call it. i grab one girl and iron out the wrinkles in the back of her skirt, if you know what i mean. easy as pie. then, out of nowhere, one girl grabs me and puts me between her and her friend. i'm now being sandwiched by two girls, one semi-hot and the other a fatty. why is this always the case? regardless, not exactly knowing clubbing etiquette, i decide to ask the fatty her name since she was the one who grabbed me... cheebs: "what's your name?" skankho: big momma. cheebs: uhm, ok. i'm ::insert fake name here::. *turns to her friend* pssh, big momma huh? well she was notoriously BIG, so i guess the name suits her and with the amount of drinks i saw her guzzle all night, i'd be willing to bet she's just about "ready to die", much similar to the name of biggie's first cd, baby baby! that night i danced with five girls. not bad, but dancing wasn't my intention. it was getting phone numbers and i did none of that because, wait, where's running wolf? i never heard from that indian motherfucker again, thus the name i have given him. i sent text messages, and left voicemails for him, pretty much inquiring whether he was in jail, dead from drinking too much, or in some typical bar fight because being extremely drunk might have helped him remember how the white man took his land. in reality though, i think that...i think that i was ditched. like a bitch. REJECTED. by a guy at that. wtf? i thought only girls did that "i'm not talking to him no mo'" shit. he totally went gay on me. i even sent e-mails trying to find out if he made it home alive, and he never responded. now i'm left wondering what the hell went through his head to make him not want to talk to me anymore. was it because he felt like i am a bigger loser than he is? does he think he's too much of a loser to hang with me? is he secretly gay and disappointed that i am not? i will never know, and more importantly, i have completely given up on meeting people online. i am now forcing myself to talk to strangers in person and meet friends that way. what a concept! but for me, it's very hard. so, my journey to become a social butterfly has begun. i've made a promise to myself that i have to talk to at least one stranger each day, for thirty days. it's been four days now and i'm doing well. on another note, i went out last night to see these guys and opus dai, and they fucking rocked. i always thought that no-name bands sucked, but deafening proved me wrong. more often now, i plan to rock out, sans cock out, and after my deftones concert (best fucking day of my life) in october and sevendust last month, i am now officially a black cracker. party on garth! i'm off to watch "shooter" and imagine myself as a sniper victim. || Stroke My Ego | Comments (0) | Am I A Loser? ||

written on: 3/20/07

posted by: cheeba

The Story of Running Wolf, Pt. 1. 20:32 PST i'm about to reveal to you something that i'm very ashamed to admit. NOOOO, not that! this, is much worse. i...err, god, i can't believe i'm telling you this but uhm, i, went online, and...and, posted an ad on craigslist's personals. to meet guys. OK, SO I SAID IT!!! but, but, i was DESPERATE! now, before you jump up and exclaim, "ah ha! i just knew he was of the faggot persuasion!", let me clarify. being that i've been out of the dating game for almost three years, i severely lost any semblance of "game" that i had when it came to picking up chicks. to be honest, i never had any practice at it. i mean, i'm totally awesome at conversating but the initial approach drives my balls to the walls, so to speak. the main reason for this is that all my life, i've never picked up any woman -- i don't care what anyone says, fat weights more than muscle! no, wait, that's not it, but not that far from the truth unfortunately. what i really meant to say was that they've always approached me first because my "shyness" was attractive and each intended to screw it out of me...and failed miserably because i was never shy, just a wussy boy. now, being that i'm no longer in school and everyone i work with is too old, too married, or tune me out, i'm no longer in situations where it is easy for women to fawn all over the cheebs. on that note, i resolved that i refuse to enter another committed relationship until i get this part of my life together. until i can walk up to any girl and tell her anything i want, without feeling nervous or giving three shits about her response, my training will not be complete. by the end of this year, i fully intend to have so many women on rotation that i'll be kicking them out of my apartment while shouting "THIS IS SPARTA", as i toss their loin cloths out on the floor behind them. so, like i was getting to earlier. to increase my "inner game" and subsequently decrease my sperm count, i started studying speed seduction material and things of that sort. books, mp3's, dvd's, braile, -- you name it, i want it. yes, i know, it sounds horribly cheesy but i've learned so much and am constantly testing things to see what works and what doesn't, and trust me when i say that, like a leprechaun after a taco buffet, this shit is GOLD. now back to craigslist. what i did was post an ad saying that i was looking for a wingman to go pick up chicks with me: a buddy who could push me whenever i was looking to wuss out and who'd be interested in swapping techniques (AND HOPEFULLY NOT IN "SWAPPING" ANYTHING ELSE). i received a few responses from guys who either would send one e-mail then never reply, or send me their phone number and ask me to give them a call. as if! i ain't no ho. well, one guy in particular really stood out because from our conversations i could tell that he had been studying the same material as me, for longer than me, and he also sent me this HUGE e-mail full of terminology and phrases that only another loser seduction student would understand. namely, me. i had hit jackpot. it was the most pathetic display of wuss-bagginess i'd ever read. this shit is too good not to post. snippet: DoucheBag 101: "Latin honey at the gym has been eyeing me for a month (eye contact and smiling), but I have been wussing out (she is hot). She usually sits right by me (spinning class)........I show up early in my work clothes and eyeglasses (girls always like to see me in my glasses after they have known me without them, plus I have good fashion style as well). she came up to me and goes into interview mode..........I got nervous (did I mention she is hot) and I went straight into interview mode as well, then even worse, the adrenaline started pumping..........my voice and hands got shaky and just sucked........you should have been there to shoot me in the head........well after I gave her my card because she asked what I do, I stuttered on and got the idea to draw her a stick figure picture of me giving her a flower.........my inner wuss was strong so I said I had to change and excused myself...........She sometimes skips class, and she skipped after I saw her. I was such a loser. LOLapaloser to be exact. after an exchange like that, i too would have skipped...my ass in front of a speeding train and commited seppukku that is. if ever i had the urge to self-induce a state of "not living", all i have to do is re-read this guy's e-mail and i'll know instantly that my life could be MUCH worse. we e-mailed back and forth for a few days, trying to gauge how much the other was into the seduction scene and do our best, like any normal guy would do, to verify that the other was NOT GAY and not looking to dish out any roofie coladas for some uninvited SEXY TIME. when the weekend came, we set up a "date". lol. /no homo. "i'll be wearing a button-up shirt and blue jeans. look for me at xxx restaurant by the bar." button-up shirt and jeans? gee, thanks! that's only like every fucking mexican in texas. "oh yeah, and i look mexican but i'm actually native american." great! i hope he doesn't have any "reservations" about me being black then since we're both minorities. ha ha! get it? reservations? native american? oh man, i kill me. i wish :( i get there on time and don't see anyone fitting the description. i call and the dumbass tells me there is more than one bar and that he's at the side bar, not the main one, and that he'll be drinking a beer. he then hangs up. sitting at a bar, drinking a beer? ok, i got it. THERE IS NO WAY I CAN GO WRONG NOW! and i'll be the black guy eating fried chicken and drinking malt liquor. jesus. if he had simply told me he was the only douchebag wearing a tie, jeans, and a sports coat (with matching napkin hanging out) on a friday night, i might have had absolutely no fucking problem finding him. bah, i'm fucking sleepy. i'll finish later in the week. peace outside. || Stroke My Ego | Comments (0) | Am I A Loser? ||

written on: 3/11/07

posted by: cheeba

When Girls Telephone Boys. 10:37 PST ok, so it's been a while. a REALLY long while. i swear man, so many awesome things have happened over the past few months and i'm tired of people writing asking me to update my site. to that i say, GO GET A LIFE AND STOP LIVING THROUGH ME! shit, if you want vicarious, go listen to tool. ok, ok just kidding. i haven't fogotten my place in life. god has put me here so that others may be aware of all the horrible things that happen when you hate religion and think of the bible as nothing more than outstanding fiction. enough of that though. remember the last girl i told you i was dating? the one who i said i was "happy with", who took me rock climbing the first week and well, pretty much stopped being interesting at that point. well, of course i don't have to say what happened but uhm...well, we accidentally broke up on purpose in february. believe it! ok ok, no more naruto for me. you see, i have this policy i like to call my "ringu" policy. that translates to "the ring", for those of you who don't speak rice wine vinegarian. think "ring" as in the movie, and not as in the type that you give for an engag...ok ok, i promised no more jokes/comments about my last relationship. crap! new year's resolution and such. back to what i was saying. i have this *thing* i've always done where, whenever february comes around, i don my patented "cape of the asshole", +1 against ridiculous consumerism, and uhm, break it off with any girl i'm seeing, exactly seven days before valentine's day. yes, i'm a jerk, but i'm a jerk that just saved a ton of money...without even switching to geico. besides, she was pissing me the hell off. she was the most confusing/confused girl i had ever met, and regardless of how cute she was, i was not gonna put up with it any longer and conveniently, february 14th (-7), was nigh. so she called me up that night and said something that sounded like it came straight off of a german nu-metal album because i could not for the life of me understand what the fuck she was saying, but it made me want to get angry, headbang, and slam myself into walls. Highly Improbable Reenactment: her: soooo, what are you doing for me for valentines day? me: huh? buck dich. du hast mich gefragt? her: wh, wha, what? me: oh, i thought you were reciting rammstein lyrics because i am unable to comprehend one fucking thing you just said. her: i said, so what are you... me: OK, I HEARD YOU YOU MONEY HUNGRY BITCH! you remember how you told me that you didn't want a boyfriend? well, guess what? i do! wait wait, no, where was i going with this? fuck. really man, why do women tell guys that they don't want a boyfriend, girls just wanna have fu-un, but they still want you to do boyfriend type shit like call them all the time, buy them gifts, and not sleep with their friends? as if! friends with benefits is so fetch, and i never really will get the hang of it but regardless, we had an agreement and obviously she wanted to have her cock and eat it too. or is it cake? nah, i said it right the first time i'm sure. i'm never wrong. i actually contemplated NOT breaking it off with her because i still kinda liked her, up until that phone call that is, and i swear, if she had just shut her yap and not mention valentine's day at all, things would have been all good. that day, i actually had my web browser open to swisscolony.com and ftd.com, because, you know, they were annoying popups from when i was browsing for porn. why else would they be open? come now! regardless, this was the perfect moment for me to end our relationship because things had already started going down the proverbial hill. Teh Beginning of Teh End, a.k.a. the "Big Green Machine". the first time i noticed that things were beginning to go stone sour, heh heh, was a few months back when we had our first major argument. i seriouly do not know why i keep encountering women who have these serious, "you won't like me when i'm angry" type of tempers. in case you don't know by now, the only time i like my women turning green is when they become sick...of how incredibly sexy i am! ok ok, i know that was terrible but i digress. one night i decided to take her to this street festival, forty miles away, at night, because i knew she liked those types of things and i've always wanted to see llamas and i hear there were going to be some freakin' llamas, and well, llamas rock ok? so we get to the place and we're having a great time. a half an hour goes by and we head into this aroma therapy shop and that's when things turn stink, if you'll pardon the expression. we walk around for a bit and i see these little scented, colored rocks. i pick one up out of a huge bucket full and begin smelling it. after a while, we leave the store and as we're walking, she sees me still sniffing the rock i picked up earlier. she...flips...out. Highly Improbable Reenactment #2: she hulk: omg, did you like, just fucking steal that? me: huh? she hulk: that rock. did you pay for it? me: uhm, no. it probably costs like five cents and... she hulk: OMFG! you need to take it back right now!!!!111 me: you're kidding right? she hulk: i can't believe this. you're a fucking criminal. take it back, right now. i just knew you were too good to be true. me: ok ok. but did you mean "take it back" like afro picks and disco balls, or... she hulk: ::storms off into the night:: me: LOL? the girl straight up walked off and left me. alone. and we're forty miles away from home, in a place i've never been, and where i know absolutely no one. i almost cried. until, of course, i remembered that i was the one who drove us here. woo hoo! walking away from someone when you're upset is like the most childish thing ever, next to hanging up the phone, and punching someone in the throat (ok, so maybe i'm guilty of the last one). and being that i'm a newly-formed AIT (asshole in training, that's my next story), this was going to be the first, no, second time in my entire life that i've ever left someone stranded. i say "fuck that" and walk around the rest of the festival, enjoying the sights and gorging myself on funnel cakes and smoked turkey legs. yum! carnie food tastes so much better when the thought of someone getting raped and murdered out of ignorance is freshly lingering on your palate. after about ten minutes she finds me and we have a HUGE argument. over a five cent rock that no one will ever think thrice about. except for her of course. i calmly ask her why she's so upset and she blasts off into this tirade telling me that it's not in my place to tell her whether she's upset or not, because, you know, just because she stormed off, is shouting, and snapping her neck from side to side with her eyes redder than cherry kool-aid, doesn't mean that she is pissed off. nuh uh. did i forget to mention that this is the same girl who was, at the moment, due in court for two outstanding traffic violations, TWO, like at the same time, but i'm the one who is breaking the law here. that's like, you were caught speeding one night and get pulled over by a state trooper, and then in anger you speed off cursing and get pulled over a second time by a motor cycle cop hiding out a few miles down. ok, maybe that's not how it happened but...whatever. anyhow, after a few minutes of pointless arguing, i ask her if she can just forget about it and let's enjoy ourselves, because honestly, i never stay upset about anything that stupid for more than like five minutes. she says ok, and we start walking around again. oh yeah, and she's not saying a single word to me. i say "fuck this", grow a conscience, and tell her i'm taking her home. we don't say anything on the entire hour long drive, so i proceed to blast the most horrible, unintelligible rock music in my stereo (think anal cunt, caninus and lifehouse). she's even more pissed off. we finally get to her house and after an hour of silence and dirty looks, you know what she has the audacity to ask me? "so are you going to meet my parents or not? they're both home right now." HAHAHAHAHHAHA! i swear, i almost passed out laughing. i could just picture hitler in my head, hand pointed up in the air, laughing his ass off at the LOLocaust that was occuring in my car. pure sieg heilARITY! after i wiped the tears away from my eyes, i politely told her "no" and for some reason she was shocked (and not even awed!), got out of my car, and SLAMMED MY FUCKING DOOR! she is the first woman to ever slam my baby's door and she is so lucky i did not jeepers creepers her ass and run her over in her own fucking drive way. reverse over her mangled body, and then do it again. oops! ::shaves head:: surprisingly, we still dated for a few more months after that. there were other things about her that bugged me, but njack is limited to 20 gigabytes of storage space, so i won't go into everything. let's just say that inbetween her irrational fear of germs (won't touch ketchup bottles at restaurants and keeps an industrial-sized hand sanitizer in her purse), low self esteem (constantly asks if her breath stinks; she should suck on a scented rock no?), and atrocious selfish/unappreciative behavior (i once surprised her by taking her somewhere that i was really excited about, and because it wasn't a "day spa" like she'd been hinting at for a few weeks, she got totally steamed. see a trend here?). so where was i? yes, seven days before valentine's day. i told her off nicely, and hit her the infamous LJBF line. she was upset, but agreed, and said she'd call me back later in the week. that was a month ago. i figure that maybe she got angry at her phone for malfunctioning one day, cursed at it, and walked away never to look back again, and that's why she hasn't called because that's the only way she knows to deal with conflicts. well, that's my story and i'm sticking to it buddy. so that's that. now i'm *sorta* dating this lawyer chick. when we first met, she said that she was tired of doing the same crap over and over, and is glad to meet a guy who fancies the same things she did, and who could expose her to new, fun activities that didn't involve going to bars every night and eating at taco bell. so i told her, "you're not karen", i'm GREAT at exposing ::wink::, and i'm one of the most random/interesting/funny people you'll ever meet, so you'll have a blast with me. amazingly, we have the same sense of dark humor, love movies, listen to the same types of music, and enjoy having an occassional drink or two. great start right? well, you know that occassional drink or two that i just mentioned? well, i must be so fucking out of touch with the kids today, that when i said occassional, i meant like twice a week i'll go out and have two beers, max. what SHE meant by occassional was that she spends two days a week SOBER and MAXES out the credit line on her jack daniel's branded (or was it JD stained?) AMEX card. oh my god...iva white chocolate liqueur! i think her veins pump hundred proof by now. folks, i know this one won't last long so prepare for a story soon enough. hopefully it won't involve her dying in a drunken, head-on collision with another vehicle because frankly, i would probably be laughing too fucking hard for the rest of my life, to ever compose myself well enough to write about it. WOO, i'm giggling just picturing it, ever-so-graphically in my mind. wish me (bad) luck bro and stay tuned for my upcoming story entitled, "The Return to Castle Drunkenstein". sho' nuff. || Stroke My Ego | Comments (0) | Am I A Loser? ||

written on: 11/20/06

posted by: cheeba

Back Like Scoliosis. 13:24 PST hello everyone! here is my usual bicentennial post announcing my death, or lack thereof, and that i will be posting something to the webernets real soon. work is still going pretty well, i just came back from my first rock concert, and i'm sorry to announce, i've met someone and am actually happy. yeah, good for me, bad for you. regardless, stay tuned and watch out for that saturday night wrist. || Stroke My Ego | Comments (0) | Am I A Loser? ||

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