I'm not lame.

[Current Age: 20.999622 Years]



Last pair of X's I'll ever wear, short of going straightedge. Woo.

Everyone tells me congratulations, way to go, what are you going to get drunk on? Well, I really don't know. I don't like any of that alcohizzle shit. Never have. I hate what it does, I hate what it tastes like, and I hate that I am practically expected to stock my fridge with beer and watch the superbowl and eat chicken wings and belch loudly on command. Fuck all of that noise.

I figure I will get drunk though. I have to do it once, just to be inside that circle, even if it is from a dim and limited perspective. Then after I do it I will say I'll never do it again, and I don't imagine the temptation to break such a vow would be terribly threatening. Considering how little value I place on "getting fucked up" in the first place I can't imagine replicating what I feel to be among the least relevant accolades of my existence will be a terribly imminent item on my itinerary. My agenda concerns far more important things, like using alliteration and abusing pleonasms. Yeah, I linked to that word because I don't think you know what it means. I'm such an asshole.

I still go to the goth club pretty much every week. Last night I found myself considering why. I didn't know. I usually just sit there. I enjoy the peoplewatching that I do, the music is good, the atmosphere is pretty fun even though I cannot overcome my fear of strangers' judgement and get on the fucking dance floor sometime. Mostly though I have always thought that I was there for Paul, because his parents are not comfortable with him going to "that part of town" alone, even though the place is like a block and a half from the Raleigh Police Department. Plus he enjoys the company, I enjoy the company, we are hanging out. That is good. What does it matter if we hang out at a gaybar on goth night? Still, couldn't I be doing better things than being a social retard amidst much more experienced exuders of angst, barely moving for several hours?

Well who is to say whether pirating entertainment off the internet, watching Adult Swim, practicing Shoryukens, or watching some pr0n are better than that? But I will say that meeting and talking to people and generally engaging in activity I like to call "hanging out" because I think probably a lot of other people call it that too is more than likely definately better than that. Which is cool, because that is what I did last night. I think maybe I will do it again.

Also, eating at IHOP at 3am fucking rules. That is all.

Once upon a midnight dreary
As I lay on my bed, my wang weak and weary
Cursing all the high school whores

Who'd never given it up to a dork self-proclaimed
Whose inexperienced heart went raw and unmaimed
Ninjas the only creatures I did not abhor

The internet was my only refuge
From pathetic sorrow outpouring in deluge
Making wisecracks in IRC 6.4

Hark, unto me an instant message comes
A reference from a friend, I thought the idea quite dumb
Never did I think I would think it more

Lo, what is this? A female who plays videogames?
Who writes BX and knows Japanese names?
Impressive also is her knowledge of Harry Potter lore

I think she likes me, holy Jesus fuck
She lives far away in Iowa, what rotten luck
Via webcams we seem to have struck a chord

We shop for goth clothes and discuss ramifications
Of ninjas and gays and playing Playstations
My heart has been thus captured never before

Over long distance, between teeth clenched in angst
Venues of travel to meet her are planned in no pants
It's like a 20 hour drive or something in my Ford.

I write this poem in earnest, quietly clacking away
To tell Leah in Iowa "Happy Valentine's Day"
Because I think she's awesome to the core.


Happy Valentine's day Tabby! Here is how I really feel about you:

Your wings are DRAGON wings.

Massive and covered in scales, they shimmer with strength and magic. They are the most obvious display of your power - though it runs equally throughout your heart and mind. You are uncompromising and grave, with a profound sense of justice. You have firm ideas about what is right and what is wrong and set out to fix what problems you can. You realize that you are more capable of dealing with life and evil than most, and as such you see it as your responsibility to protect those who cannot defend themselves. You have existed since antiquity and as such you are wise far beyond your years in this lifetime. While you strive for fairness and peace, if someone should steal from your cave of treasure (though not all that glitters is gold) or compromise the happiness of you or one who is close to you - they have signed their death warrant. You have a mighty vengeance and will unleash it upon such people immediately and mercilessly. Arguing with you is useless...you rarely back down and are known for holding firm in your beliefs. Sometimes you feel intensely burdened with the troubles of others...acting as a Guardian can get so wearisome. But you never give up...you see it as your life's mission. Often very introverted, you can be so smart...it's scary. Such a combination of intelligence, creativity, power, beauty, and magic is often intimidating to those around you - who are also unlikely to understand you. Arrogant, proud, overserious and sometimes a bit greedy or obsessed with whatever treasure you choose to pursue...you have enchanted people for centuries, and will continue to do so.


Claim Your Wings
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Robbie Rob: breaking the hearts of gay men everywhere since '04.

Sup.

This post is running a bit late, it should have preceeded the previous post even. But think of it like a Quentin Tarantino movie where it is out of chronological order but in the end that just makes it funnier and more interesting.

So here is the first chronicling I did of our trip to the Goth/Gay club, one where dudes did not hit on me. It was pretty cool, the music that night was most excellent and the atmosphere was pretty kickin with the amount of people that showed up.

Here we are getting ready to leave, apparently we were trapped in "The Ring" but we worked our way out and did not die 7 days later so I think we are in the clear. Wait my TV just turned on O SHI

So anyhow immediately upon entering the club we met this fellow. His name is Chris, he is a Goth model and is moving to Pennsylvania to become a professional makeup artist. Also according to my BFF his clavical piercing or whatever is too shallow and will fall out.

The dance floor was pretty kickin. Paul stepped on for the Manson, stayed for the NIN, and stayed longer for the Rob Zombie. This dude was kind enough to let me steal his soul. He said he did not actually have one in the first place, some kind of birth defect, so the camera probably didn't get anything really. Eh.

Shanna was kind enough to let me take a picture even though she felt she was looking "sweaty and gross." She goths up the place quite nicely, especially with those kickin' rad tattoos. Afterward we hit the gas station for postclub munchies, and I managed to get a shot of Paul in full Cleric uniform. Unfortunately my camera like jammed or something and I couldn't get a shot of him instantly murdering 6 ninjas that came out of fucking nowhere and jumped him. It was awesome though you should have seen it.

So I just got back from the club with Paul.

It was pretty slow tonight, there was this wintery type weather crap that made shiz all icy and nobody wants to leave their house I guess at all this week even though the shizzle is all but completely melted. There were some regulars of goth night there, including Shanna, who I got pictures of last time I was there as well. She and her husband frequent the joint at least as often as every time I have ever been there, and I think she goths up the place quite nicely. Not everyone dressing down for goth night is necessarily going for the goth look.

Of course, it is still a gay and lesbian bar, it is simply a gay bar with a theme two nights a week. The gay bar across the street actually has hip hop night on Thursdays as well, and it is interesting to see the two crowds comingle in the same parking lot when they close up. Anyway, the point to this paragraph is that I got hit on by a dude tonight.

Next paragraph. So I took a few notes from the guy hitting on me, he had obviously given his approach some thought. I think I should get it out of the way that I was actually flattered when I realized what was going on and my sexuality did not feel threatened at all. He had interrupted some ladywatching (cleavage on the dance floor, woo!) and since I sort of have a self confidence problem about how attractive I appear towards others it was a boon to my self esteem.

I tried to play along with the guy because hey, maybe I am not gay, but I will at least try to see where he wants this to go. Maybe when he figures out that I like the ladies he'll be able to introduce me to a nice single lady gothfriend who would like to take me home for wild, kinky, vampiric blooddrinking sex. Come to think of it I should have used that for his last question. Here is the dialogue, more or less paraphrased but quoted when possible, and in chronological order:

"Hey, what's that? Is that a camera? Are you taking pictures?"

Good icebreaker. Relevant, shows general interest, leads into topical conversation shallow enough to allow treading into deeper waters.

Yeah, I am.

"Of what?"

Just different people.

"You go to school around here?"

Checking my age. The X's on my hands put up a flag, I suppose. Nope, not going to school right now.

"Oh, you're done with school?"

Yeah. So now he knows I'm legal.

"What do you do?" Nothing special. "What do you want to do?" I dunno.

I guess I wasn't the most interesting prospect with hot hot responses like that, but that didn't phase him. I guess my apparent lack of sexual manly lust for him in my responses showed.

"So you see any ladies you like around here?"

Ah. Checking to see if I swing his way. Good, maybe we can get this bit cleared up. Yeah, there are some hotties on the dance floor tonight.

"Yeah? I like more of a group thingself."

Well crafted answer. Being bisexual does not disarm his intentions but it also does not exclude my love for boobies from the conversation. He still has steady ground to walk on. Since I haven't freaked out at this point, moved away from him, or done anything in general other than politely continue the conversation he reads it as a go ahead.

"So what is your wildest sexual fantasy?"

Whoa. Slow down partner. If you were gonna make a cityboy switch teams tonight you should have built up to that one a little more. This is the point where I give half-answers and shake my head with a lot of "I don't knows" which is kind of where my half of the conversation had been the whole time anyway. Mostly I was thinking about how "el oh el" the situation seemed (I am such a nerd) and what friends in both the real and the internet domains would say, how they would react when they read about this.

Eventually I got a picture of the dude because I knew that I simply had to blog the event, and quietly moved to sit down next to Paul who was waiting for good music to come on. It was 80's night, and Paul being more on the metal side of goth could not bring himself to dance to "Hey Mickey." The evening had already started to wear thin, and we left shortly thereafter, and watched as people coming out of the gay bars flocked to the hot dog stand across the street. Please make any hot weiner jokes yourself because I will not be doing it for you.

Also I got Paul hooked on Red Bull, which a friend once described as "liquid crack, cherry flavored."

The other day my dad found some gaming relics of mine. What you are about to witness is like partly religion to me, it is as much a part of my youth as my mother's passing or that time all the popular kids in middle school made fun of me in front of the girl I liked. Behold, my Sega merchandise:



Yes, I was a Sega boi growing up, not Nintendo. My first gaming system, which was actually very much a jointly shared gaming system between my siblings and myself, was in fact a straight up Nintendo Entertainment System. We loved that thing, seeing as how we were all raised on some Atari games.

Pitfall was a beloved classic by my older sister and I, even if it was totally hard as balls and there wasn't even a reward if you were good at it. Anyhow, the days of Super Mario Brothers, a game that can be beaten in 13 minutes nowadays was played daily back then and never defeated, were a fond memory. I remember how my sister would jerk the controller into the air when performing jumps, claiming that it increased the height Mario attained on screen.

Eventually though, we succumbed to the allure of mighty Sega and their hip and edgy, cool new and blue mascot. I continue to maintain that Sonic The Hedgehog is the mawfuckin' bizzomb. As the years wore on and Sega continued to produce hip and edgy gaming hardware, we bought into it. It was never quite successful, and eventually the questionable quality of so much of their software as well as the prohibitive prices led us to kick the Sega habit before we indulged in what is probably among the top 5 most inane gaming systems in all of electronic history (a topic for another article), the 32X.

But we did buy into the Sega CD a bit, as can be seen. Additionally, we own several of the greatest games to ever exist, including Popful Mail, Eternal Champions, and...I get all tingly when I get to this one because by all rights it should not have come to fruition as excellent as it is, ROBOCOP VERSUS TERMINATOR. I cannot believe that game even exists, I feel like a liar telling you about it.

You may also notice a Nomad, a gigantic beast claiming that it is a portable system, but really that is like a Tyrannosaurus telling you that HE is portable, when clearly you could not carry him like even a foot and probably in the end he would eat you.

Maybe in a few years I will ebay all this shit for fun and profit.

So like, I have gone with my buddy Paul down to the goth club a couple times now. It is actually usually a gay and lesbian bar, but some nights they have goth night where people of all orientations show up to show off their awesome black leather dresses and whatnot. Really it is a pretty interesting place to be, as there are a number of attractive ladies, many who can dance and many who cannot. I have seen a total of like 3 guys that can actually dance and that includes Paul. I am not sure if that is a chromosomal thing or what, maybe it's not their fault, since I am not OMG the uberdancer either. Actually I haven't really been out on the floor yet, I have been too busy peoplewatching.

I think that segues nicely* into my next bit, which is about how I am Amy's sister's date to her high school homecoming dance. Hannah, the girl in question, asked me to go and I was entirely too flattered to say no. It will be a bit weird going to a homecoming dance since I have been out of high school for a few years, and also I avoided all my own homecoming dance opportunities in high school because I was very angsty and anti-social back then. But really I figure going to this one will be pretty cool, because I get to dance with a very pretty girl and be the mysterious older guy. We are going to be the coolest couple in the room, you'll all see.

*horribly

So they, and by they I mean the almighty chocolate producing company known as Hershey's, they make these things called Swoops now. I am all "Dubya Tee Eff, Mayte" when I see these things because they look like chocolate pringles or some shit. Which would be perfectly fine with me, I guess, a little weird but probably more on the normal side of chocolate covered pretzels so I would permit such a product to exist if I had my own island where pants and ugly people were banned.

These tiny edible maxi pads intrigued my dad as well, so much so that on a random tasty beverage run he picks some of these oddities up. So, they taste just like a regular Hershey bar. I mean, dubya tee eff for realz!? Why wouldn't you just buy a Hershey bar instead? They are cheaper and you get more choco. What could these chips of chocolate with their incredibly odd shape possibly be good f...



O Shi



YES!



FUCKING SCORE!

Brilliance, Hershey brand of America. I salute you, though I may or may not be wearing pants.

So I guess this is a food post. I grew up on Japanese food. Shizzle is good. I have always been eating stuff that my friends thought was weird because it had soy sauce on it or some of the ingredients came in packaging you could not decipher.

So, rice. Staple of a typical diet pretty much everywhere throughout Asia. But I don't mean Uncle Ben's long grain rice. That nig's rice is the suck (not racist). I mean sticky rice, cooked in a rice steamer, an appliance I am sure most American households do not contain. I mean rice covered in dried fish flakes and doused in soy sauce. The flakes add some flavor and a pleasurable texture, and mix well with the saltyness of the soy sauce. They also dance and flail and squirm atop a bowl of piping hot rice, much like they were alive.

This freaked me the fuck out when I was a little me, I assure you. But I can also assure you that the fish is quite dead, and it is simply the heat and moisture from the rise that causes it to warp and bend. You also have the option of cracking a raw egg into the rice and mixing it in, which may cook it entirely if the rice is fresh enough. You can microwave it a bit if you are not sure.

If all that is not amazing enough, we still have to cover mochi! Mochi is also made out of rice! WAU! Here is a picture to better convey the size of these little bricks of brilliance.



You may compare it with either my hand or the evil demon that appeared in the background that I had to combat using ninja rice skills shortly after that photo was taken. So you store these little cakes of rice frozen, and toast them when you desire a snack so gooey no American food product or byproduct can stand in.

People of Robbie Rob's blog, I give you, toasted mochi. It is crispy and flaky on the outside and more gooey and sticky on the inside than solid matter this side of peanut butter can be. It is also very very hot and fucking delicious when doused in soy sauce. I am willing to bet a fair bit of you will be grossed out by that last picture, but the prospect delights me which is why I am warning you after I linked it. Silly gaijins.