Posted by: Pablo | March 31, 2011

Rolling on the ground with grown men part 1

Been a long time. No time to update this ish but for the 3 people who keep up, this one is for you. Training and my girlfriend are the only things I do nowadays. A few weeks ago I even competed in a no gi grappling tournament which was an incredible experience. I will discuss how all of this came about.

I have been a member at my gym for a year. I am still wack at techniques, but feel comfortable when rolling. Instead of spazzing out I focus on the situation and what technique I can execute to get me in a better position. No longer am I in survival mode when rolling. That is not saying much though since I still suck, but being able to think of my next move is a lot better than saying to myself, “oh shit this guy is gonna break my arm”. Kind of like street fighter where I am not afraid of dropping combos on a live opponent, but just a matter of getting the opening to attack.

Despite how much I suck, a buddy/much more advanced guy at the gym brought the tournament to my attention. I had already seen the flyer posted up at the gym, but considering my low tier skills I didn’t think much about it. Home dude was like stop being a pussy. That is all the motivation I needed to attend the 2 month training for the tournament. I had already lost of bunch of weight before the training thanks to Alex’s crazy ass diet, and had been eating right the whole time. Thankfully weight management was not an issue. I can’t believe how fat I was, lost around 28 pounds up until the weigh ins at the tournament. Shout outs to chicken breast and brown rice.

The training camp was ridiculous. Started at 8pm which meant I could get off work, take a nap and go in fresh for the ass beating I was about to receive. I would get home around 10:45pm, shower my broken body and do it again the next day. This was Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. Wednesday was our break day. First day was subs, drilling for the first part, and then a ridiculous number of live rounds–Over an hour most of the time. Second day would be wrestling. Coach would do at least 21 rounds of greco/greco+trips/anything goes. Never experienced such a long and hard (yes homo) pace. Thursday would be wrestling, and Friday subs. Same deal. For the later part of the training we would warm up, do live wrestling/subs, and then drill technique when we were exhausted. This process works because it relies on muscle memory getting you through a match for the win. The major difference was this was not “class”. You either knew it or you didn’t. This is where I struggled, because my technique is slow which is not ideal when you are trying to get in as many reps as possible when drilling.

This was all very hard on the body, thus attaining proper hardbody status.  Prior to the team training I had pulled my calf. During training messed up my right ring finger, bruised a rib (according to webMD), and started the process of deforming my left ear with some minor cauliflower. I think I got off pretty lucky. First week of training one guy broke three vertebrae. The ambulance came and rushed him to the hospital, but we still kept training. Go hard.

One week before the tournament I was desperately trying to get into the 149lb weight class. I overshot my original weight loss goal of 162lbs (beginner), meaning that I would be really light for my current division. So here I am, running 4 miles during lunch breaks at work to get down but was not having much success. I think two weeks out next time I will go very low carb because I believe I plateaued my weight loss at the very end. The tournament discourages weight cutting and you weigh in right before your match. I guess that is good. I will try real hard next time to get to 147lbs or so because I was at least 6″ taller than the competitors in the 149lb and under division. The scale at the tournament was wack. It was digital and vibrated so your weight would fluctuate at least a pound when stepping on it. Not much you can do about it though because if you are overweight you do not wrestle. Simple as that.

On to the actual tournament. I fucked up big time when registering and I signed up for intermediate instead of beginner. I lack technique so strength and more importantly heart (foundation of Hardbody) are all I have to rely on. Thankfully I was moved into the beginner bracket. I had asked the tournament director if something could be done and she said she would look into it, about 30 minutes later coach came back to me saying that I was moved. That was a huge relief. I thanked the director after the tournament for helping me out and I apologized for messing up.

We had arrived at the high school gym around 2:30pm. It was massive. These schools out in the middle of nowhere have awesome facilities. No gi would not start until several hours later. It kind of sucks just waiting, watching the gi competitors butt scoot all over the place. We missed the advanced belt grappling because that started around 9am and only one of our guys actually trained gi.

When no gi beginner 162lb division weigh ins were announced I knew it was on. I just fucking ran down there to weigh in. I was looking at the 149lb guys and was pissed I could have probably beaten most of them with strength. They were much smaller but could have maintained control for most of the match. The actual scale was horrible. It was digital with the display kept wobbling back and forth when you stood on it. So your weight would fluctuate a pound or two. That is cool if you are under weight, but if you been cutting and barely making the limit it would suck to have the weight go up and down like that. They also won’t let you weigh in naked…which I guess makes sense. I had eaten lunch before weighing in so I was at 157lbs or so. Should have been no more than 156lbs but whatever the official is just checking to make sure you are not over.

After weighing in we had to wait at the designated mat. I really tried to keep myself warmed up, but some buster ass official was telling people to sit down. The fuck is that shit? You want me to stay seated on this cold ass gym floor up until my match? I got back up after that dude left and kept moving. Fuck that guy. While waiting for my match, the one taking place was hilarious. Some fat mexican versus some burly white guy in what seemed like the 200lb+ division. The match starts and for some reason the taller white guy lazily shoots in and the shorter and fatter mexican hops up and gets a guillotine. Locks in tight then let it go after several seconds since he felt the white guy go limp (no homo). White guy drops to the floor and the referee had no clue as to what happened. I had to tell him the guy was out cold. White guy got up asking the referee, “What happened?”

When my match finally came up I got a look at my opponent. Some younger white guy. At this point everyone is younger than me, I am HELLA old nowadays. My game plan was to counter whatever this guy did because I was confident this guy could not shoot on me. No one from our gym is going to get shot on. That is fact. We start out in wrestlers clinch, which is great, because I immediately landed a head butt while clinching. Then I rubbed my temple on his eyebrows a bit. It is awesome being able to hurt the opponent since it’s not a teammate. You do not have to be nice. We clinch for a bit and I feel out his strength. I was not impressed and could hold him there all day. I was waiting for him to do something and he tries to take me down but I sprawl and get head and arm control. He kept trying to get up but I ended up in side control. Held him there for a while and ended up out of bounds. Got reset, I tried to improve my position, couldn’t mount but ended up in half guard. Coach yells out and says keep him there you are ahead on points. Lay and pray all day son, won 6-2 on points. I felt really heavy, and everything was fuzzy. I was elated. It was an incredible high. Two months of hell drawn out of me in 5 minutes. By no means an impressive victory and had it gotten recorded I would probably be embarrassed but fuck it, I won. No one can take that away from me.

The second match sucked.  This time, I got the taste of lay and pray.  The guy was little stronger but nothing I had not seen before.  I tried standing guillotine but he managed to take me down.  I was in half guard from here on out. I was trying desperately to sweep and it became apparent that this is the area I needed to work on.  A good sweep would have gotten me into a favorable position and I could have made something happen.  His base was great so he was going to hold me there as long as necessary.  I looked at the points and it was 0-16 and I started spazzing out trying to muscle him off.  Did not work.  Time to do HELLA research on the best sweeps.

Competing was an incredible experience.  Here is this guy who wants to hurt you, and you have to be willing to do the same.  Everything is on you.  I learned a lot about where I stand in my skills.  It just makes me want to train even harder.  Ivan Salaverry MMA got the most points in no gi, and it feels good to have contributed to that.  Awesome.

Now that I look back, I am thankful of the few injuries I received leading up to the tournament. Nothing broken yet. Hopefully it stays that way.

Shout outs to spandex.

Posted by: Pablo | July 3, 2010

Things I used to do…

When I was a kid, I used to draw.  It killed off many hours of my childhood.  However, it never came naturally to me and I did not stick with it past high school.  I wish I was better at it because it is an awesome way to unleash creativity.  In case you are wondering what kind of shit I drew, most of it had something to do with comic book and or Dragon Ball Z characters.  Seriously, the best artwork involves muscular men of some sorts.  This is just a fact of life.

I used to play fighting games competitively.  I love fighting games.  The concept of the fighting game is beautifully simple.  Execution and strategy wins.  Some characters have advantages over others and that is what keeps things interesting.  For examples of this look no further than tournament footage of Marvel vs Capcom 2 or Super Street Fighter II Turbo. Unfortunately, these games are old as hell.  The scene has moved on to this weak ass user friendly generation of fighting games.  For examples of these weak ass games see Super Street Fighter IV and the soon to be released Marvel vs Capcom 3.  These games have horrible universal mechanics which dumb down everything that makes fighting games great (like ST).  Players are given way too many options.  Let us look at SFIV for example.  Slow ass game speed.  Check.  Ultras AND Super combos?! Check.  Dumbed down input windows.  Check.  Focus attacks. Check.  Great.  We are left with a shitty and boring ass game that turns into a turtling exhibition.  No thanks.  This silly ass “new generation” of players has no fucking clue as to what a real fighting game is supposed to play like.  Then you have those who have been playing fighters for as long as I have kind of just riding along the hype train of these new games going through the motions for the sake of keeping the genre alive.  I guess it all had to end at some point.  I refuse to make myself like these new games.  What is the point of a hobby if you don’t enjoy it?  If you want to play some real fighting games on real arcade boards then come see me at the crib. That is all there is to it.

I used to drink a lot.  It ran its course.  While I have no regrets of all the stupid shit that occurred because of my alcohol consumption it is not the type of thing I want to keep doing in my spare time.  A few drinks here and there is all good but if you expect to see a “performance” like in the past do not count on it.  I just don’t like weird place where I am in control, but then not really.  I can get myself into enough trouble without the alcohol assist.


In case you are wondering, yes I am still training MMA.  Still with boxing and wrestling.  I will be starting submission wrestling and kick boxing later this month.  So far so good.  The only thing that has irked me is not being consistent with attendance.  Some things would always come up but I am stopping that from now on.  Four days a week at the minimum.  Thankfully no major injuries.  My nose has yet to be broken so that is also nice.

Posted by: Pablo | March 4, 2010


Yup. I finally did it. Words escape me. I cannot fully describe the satisfaction MMA has brought me. There was definitely a void within. Overall, these are good times. I got myself a hardbody queen, and finally got to do what I have wanted to do for years. Awesome. MMA has filled this weird little void within me. I didn’t really need it, but something inside of me sure as hell wanted it. Some people have some kind of outlet. For years I never really had a means to express myself, but now, it’s all there. School kept me occupied. Work is…work.


Now this is some good stuff. We usually do some warm up drills. First go ahead I was just copying whatever other people were doing. A “fish out of water” is the perfect description. My just do it attitude got me through this, which is great. I often take such an attitude for granted. Reminders of my willingness to try new things are always nice.

First day there we started with just practicing wrist control. I could really use a handout, or something to study here because this all new stuff for me. Please believe I am hitting up MMA tracker for some reading material. Then we drilled for the arms and then moving up to neck holds. Again, I had no clue as to what I was doing. The other people were cool though and gave me pointers. The final third of the session was just wrestling incorporating everything we practiced. By this point I was gassed. My shirt was soaked through. There was some other dude there. Swoll to the max. He was on the ground panting for several minutes. I guess those muscles came back to haunt him. I wasn’t really in a position to start clowning though. At this point pride was the only thing keeping me standing. I got tossed around.

Some other stuff I have been learning is really basic. Single legs and some throws. By the end of the session I am exhausted. It feels like I am about to puke every damn time. To make things worse, they do some messed up things like make us do pushups or pull ups in between live wrestling rounds. I feel like I am getting better but it will be a while before I get out of scrub status.

It really wasn’t until recently that I leave practice without any major pain. First few weeks I was limping. Even the simplest of motions were painful. Sometimes it was hard to drive and check my blind spots. Walking down stairs was ridiculous. It was as if I was an old man. But now, I am good. Aside from soreness and random bruising across my body nothing too bad has happened. I just need to work on my technique. Most dudes there have either wrestled at some point and are just bigger than me. It doesn’t bother me too much. Most of the time during live wrestling I am defending takedowns since most guys can sort of push me around. Obviously I need more mat time so not stressing about getting my ass kicked.


Alright, now this was the shit. Better than I imagined. It almost doesn’t make sense how something that on paper appears simple can be so complex. Even though it is just your hands dishing out the damage there is a multitude of things going on here. You got baits, parries, slips, head movement, combos and a crap load of defense to think about. The training itself consisted of some drills. I was seriously hoping they would cover basic things like throwing a good jab but that was not the case. Our warm up was jump rope. I haven’t jumped rope since middle school and back then I sucked. Imagine me, a grown ass man with arms fully extended trying to get this goddamn rope over my head. It looked horrible but thankfully I am well past getting embarrassed. You just need to fucking do it.

The only bad thing that has happened so far is that some stocky ass dude, who I think is new, blasted me in the face with quite possibly the hardest punch I had ever taken. My nose immediately started bleeding, but it wasn’t broken. I have yet to punch full power but maybe I should start. Like in wrestling, my technique is too poor to worry about landing perfect KO shots. Just getting acclimated to sparring is my focus. It is a ton of fun despite how fucked up my face looks the next day.


I was talking with a friend the other day about why I put myself through this stuff. As previously mentioned, something inside me needs this. Working out is boring. It gets old really quick. Jogging is relaxing and great for you, but again, unless I got some good music to keep me distracted there is no motivation to do it. I don’t know, maybe I never really found a good workout regimen to keep me excited. I was never into team sports. I loved basketball as a kid, but when I picked up Kenpo with Master Allen’s crazy ass I had a blast. It felt right. Since joining the MMA gym I find myself ridiculously satisfied every time I go in. I guess this is my version of “Fight Club”. My needs are extremely basic and primitive in nature. It is also better than punching myself in the face to feel alive.  I mean shit, someone else would gladly do that for me! When you are on the verge of puking and you still got one more round to go against a man who is trying to slam you on your head, you find out what you are really made of. I cherish the opportunity to push myself to the limit. In the gym, everything makes sense.

Posted by: Pablo | July 16, 2009

MC Hammer swag, yeah I got that.

It has been a while.

The response to my last post was incredible. It may be hard for me to top that one, at least for a while. The last part of spring and summer so far has been amazing. Lots of stuff going on so I have been kept occupied. People getting married, visits from out the country, breezies, and etc. you know how I do it.

However, despite all of the activities I come to a realization. This September will be a year at my most recent job. Lots of life changing things are happening all around me, yet it feels like everything remains the same. I remember a coworker telling me that after he got out of school everything moved really fast. This particular notion is frightening. I do not like it and need to stay on my toes to prevent that from happening. It is not so much that I am opposed to conformity, but sometimes that comforting feeling can overcome ambition and that killer minority “beat the white man at his own game” drive I have had since childhood. I guess the best thing to do is keep a certain pace. There is a bunch of things I need to accomplish by the time I am thirty, even if when compared to most thirty year olds I am doing pretty damn good.

At this point I can appreciate the time spent in school. There is always a sense of accomplishment and progression. Once you are out there is no syllabus to guide you. At times it scares the shit out of me, but I guess at the same time it keeps things interesting. Lots of contradiction here but I know this is just a point where I have reached a crossroads. Interestingly enough, I saw this quote in a professor’s office that is relevant:

“If you know exactly what you are going to do, what is the point of doing it?”

–  Pablo Picasso

Why are people named Pablo so awesome? They hold it down for the crown and make it look easy.

What else? Since things seem to be on autopilot for the time being I do have a little bit of time to focus on myself. And by that I mean workout. A lot. I am talking damn near two hours a day. So far I have flattened the gut and gained some mass. Granted, my genetics are sort of goofy so you would not notice it much at first. Take my word for it though, the muscles are there. Touch them if you want but all I ask is that you at least buy me a drink. Just a bunch of basic body weight exercises and cardio with no Muscle Milk needed so far. Throw in that “Yoga for Martial Artists” dvd into the fray and you will see that I am not playing around with that hardbody status. Yes, yoga. Seriously, picture me in downward dog and chaturanga poses. Those workouts have made me ridiculously versatile. This isn’t some dumb ass guido routine for useless muscles. No better time to attempt such a feat than this summer. Thing is, what happens if I do get in awesome shape? Do I need to keep this retarded ass pace up? These hardbody routines aren’t even practical, but I guess that is the whole point. The main point is that yes, I am pretty serious about joining that MMA gym down the hill from my place. The goal is so that I don’t look like a bitch when I join.

Time for random events that have happened in the last few months…

Hot dog Stand Incident

Got really drunk…yeah big fucking surprise. Anyway, was with the LA 213-LBC crew getting loose with the goose. Homegirl wanted a hot dog. So what do we do? We go get some fucking hot dogs. Wait, let’s make it interesting. I was standing in line. Some breezy was standing behind us. For some reason words are exchanged. The sad part is I don’t even know what the fuck was said that started the whole ruckus. If I had to guess it probably had to do with me saying I would bang the shit out of her out loud.

So we get into it, and I insult her pretty good. Seriously, I can talk shit with the best of them. Even more so when inebriated, the hate just flows like water, and can crash, leaving victims bruised and battered. I noticed her boyfriend. He looked like your typical white boy douche bag. His long sleeve shirt was little too tight in the midsection. For me to call him out on that should tell you something because I will rock a medium sized shirt hella hard. So I put my arms up pleading for this douche to try something. Raymundo holds me back so I just keep talking shit. I tell him to go run some laps, up his cardio, and then come see me in these streets. By this point and time everyone was just looking at us. Roles were reversed, and now I was the dangerous out of control minority. Homies get their hot dogs and we bounce. I keep shouting “I fucking hate white people” all the way down the block. And after all that I left empty handed. No hot dog for my performance.

The best part is halfway home I fucking tripped and fucked up my hand. It was cut and I had an open wound on my palm for about a week. Must have been a sign from the gods that white is indeed right. They are my eternal enemy, and I will not rest until the righteous minorities are redeemed for their suffering.

808s and Heartbreaks

So check it, I am not one to put real personal shit out there so I will keep it simple. There was a girl…and I blew it. Hard. Devastation is what I felt deep inside. Real deep. That horrible sinking feeling lasted for a while. I seriously didn’t even feel like getting out of bed. Shit was that serious. Of course no one could tell since hardbody always prevails but I would have rather gotten jumped by minorities than go through that again. Unfortunately it is just one of those things that just happen. Not something I look forward to. Being “single” is great but I would be lying to you if it doesn’t get annoying to constantly be on point with my game. Breezies younger than me don’t know what the fuck they want yet and older more educated females want some lifetime commitment. Why must it be so difficult? Oh well. I will keep searching for my hardbody queen.

That is it for now. Time to get ready for the EVO trip to Las Vegas and hope nothing terrible happens.

Posted by: Pablo | April 6, 2009

When Keeping it Hardbody Goes Wrong.

Just a warning, I do not hold back when I discuss race, especially my own people.  So be warned that I am coming at you hardbody with what I think.  A lot of you already know how I get down, but this just a reminder if you did not already know.

This happened a few weeks ago.  My sister’s friend was having a birthday party.  It was one of those rare weekends where I did not have anything planned.  I was hanging out with my sister for most of the day and did not bother to make any more accommodations for the evening.  I asked if I could go along, and the birthday girl said it was cool.  My sister’s friend drives us to the house.  We get there hella early, so shit was not off the chain.  I am sitting there sipping my drink getting buzzed and what not.  As the evening progresses, more people show up and I mingle.

Thing is, this was an all out Mexican party.  Straight mex from jump street, so you know I already stick out.  It is like strike one by default on my ass already.  As more and more mexi-fries piled in I crack jokes at the expense of some of these dudes.  Most were cool with it, but it turned out that a few were getting offended but some of my remarks.  I don’t know how many Mexicans you hang out with, but they are kind of like guidos in the regard that they front like a motherfucker.  Most dudes are short and have a small man complex, so they get their 24 hour fitness memberships to enlarge their biceps.  I mean shit, I work out too but for much more practical applications.  To top it off, every dude had that gay ass Daddy Yankee look to them, and you get no respect from me when you purposefully try to look like a bitch.  I will be honest, I hold a grudge against these “groupings” of Mexicans because these are essentially the same people that gave me shit while growing up.  I was never seen as one of “them” so I always had issues with these motherfuckers.  That is why I hung out and grew up with black people.  To them I was just a white ass Mexican and left it at that.  I did not have to explain to them my family tree, what flavor of white I was mixed with or any other redundant information Mexicans care about.   I am not like those dumb ass Mexicans that tell you that they are mixed with Spanish, desperately trying to claim as much white blood to save face.  Fuck you stupid bitches that do that.  Don’t ever come to me with that shit unless you want to get handled. Why they flaunt their rapist ancestors like that I will never know.

Later in the evening, one dude in particular was taking offense.  This motherfucker just stayed away in the distance and never once confronted me about what I was doing or saying.  It all came down to one particular moment.  I gravitated to the living room, which was the dance floor for the evening.  I spot a group of mildly attractive bitches and wanted to see what was up.  I was macking on at least four of them, at the same time.  I singled one of them out because she looked bored.  I said to her, “Hey yo, you look bored, what is the deal on a key?”  She responded by saying, “I wish they would play more Reggaeton”.  My face went blank, and hatred consumed my soul.  Then, the vodka spoke on my behalf and I responded with “OH MAN, that is HELLA spic.” I proceeded to talk with another group and went about getting down for the crown.  Well, the breezy was upset, and yes I was wrong and it was out of line, especially since she did not know me or my beef with hating ass Mexicans and Daddy Yankee.  She told the birthday girl and the owner of the house.  The owner was asking me to leave, and then I got pissed.  Even better, the DJ stopped the music so I was now the focus of the room. I told that breezy it was a joke AND I apologized but they still wanted to kick me out.  Well, guess who else hopped on the hate brigade, that punk ass dude that I was pissing off earlier in the evening.  He was saying that he wanted to take me out.  Where was he earlier in the evening?  Why now?  Oh that’s right, because those two other dudes were trying to get in my face because I did not want to leave.  Yeah, good timing you little bitch.  I would destroy you.  Please believe they would have charged me with a hate crime on your ass.

The best part was when the bitch in question got in my face.  My sister, with a Coors Light bottle in hand, empties it, and fucking swings it at the inferior female.  I think she hit her, but there was a lot of commotion so it was not a clean blow.  I stomped out and yelled at all three of them to come fight me.  At this time I was already sobered up, so they were getting only the finest rage out of me.  Man, I wanted it, badly, it had been a while since I fought someone.  All the rage and energy I have to keep under control on a daily basis was fully unraveled.  At that point, I did not give a fuck.  Maximus Hardbody status was fully activated.  I was free.

In this rage, I kept yelling at these dudes to come out and get a piece.  I do some ballistic stretching.  Then I start punching a tree to get the blood pumping.  There were three dudes outside smoking that saw this and they ran back inside. During the final moments, I think everyone was more scared of my sister than me so she held her own. Respect.  No one wanted a piece and I was disappointed in the lack of action. We are both kicked out of the party and my sister is furious with me.  It was an excellent bonding experience for the two of us.  We made their fucking night.

So, what did I learn from this?  I should probably not be so defensive when interacting with a mob of Mexicans.  Also, some people still get offended by the word “spic”, especially when they are the epitome of the stereotype.   More importantly, I have a whole lot to lose, so I guess being such a champion of life has its downsides.  I do have a death wish sometimes and it really needs to stop.  I should be better at putting things into perspective.

You want to know the best part?  Remember the dude that wanted to take me out? Turns out that piece of shit motherfucker beats his girlfriend.  And I am the one getting kicked out?  I am the bad guy?  What a bunch of fucking marks.

Posted by: Pablo | February 5, 2009

213 2008

Yeah very late, but I need to address my trip to Los Angeles. Let’s do this.

I should have done this the week after, but too much shit had been going on top of the holidays. Not to mention those seven days of non-stop drinking. Thank you snow days, good shit.

First off, I am not even sure how such a trip came about. Raymond just randomly mentioned it to me. He had wanted to visit Tomas down in LA and get bitches, so of course I agreed. Didn’t even think twice about it, that is just how I get down. He cops the tickets and things get in motion. We leave December 10th and get down there late in the evening. My main nig Tomas a.k.a. “the Darkness” came at us full force, rolling through with the Ford Fusion rental car. Surprisingly, the car was not packed full of bitches. After all, Ford seemed to have designed it to be a pussy magnet. If you have never seen one, it looks like an American car trying really hard to look non-American, yet fails miserably. There is a dial for accent lighting along the center console, red, blue, green, and purple. Yeah, it looks tacky as fuck. Sad, because you know some dipshit designer thought this would come across as classy. And they wonder why the Big Three need bailout money.

Anyway, we get picked up and we are rolling deep in the 213. A certain someone was feigning for a certain type of burger. These burgers are alright, nothing amazing. What was their name again? Oh, I remember. In ‘n Out, the most overrated burgers in the history of the universe. Don’t get it twisted, they are good, but no where near as incredible as people make them out to be. Get me a Dick’s Deluxe or a Double Bacon Cheeseburger from Kid Valley and call it day. 206 represent.

We cruise around a bit more and end up at Tomas’ crib which was in a premium location. Fantastic. We call it a night because the Darkness needs his rest. The next day we take Tomas to work. Raymond and I had the whip for the entire day. We start off easy, by going to a taco shop for breakfast. Yes, breakfast, that is how we roll. We then head towards Venice Beach. It was early in the morning, so there was not much activity. It looked exactly as how imagined after all the Baywatch I had watched during middle school. The beach itself is massive and it feels like you need to walk through a mile of sand before you even reach the water. Muscle beach was cool to see in person. That was pretty much it. We then made got back on Pacific Coast Highway and drove for a long ass time. Nice highway no doubt. We saw Pepperdine University that looks like it is in the middle of nowhere. The campus huge with acres of incredibly green grass which is impressive considering everything around it is nothing but sand and dirt. They must have at least four Mexicans landscaping that shit on the regular. We kept going north on PCH and ended up in Santa Monica. Or rather, Santa Monica High School, since we scope out only the finest jailbait imaginable. OK, we were not specifically looking for a high school. We just sort of ended up there when we were looking at some of the crazy ass houses owned by rich white people. It was only until we stumbled upon the high school that we drove through the parking lot just to get a sense of the place. Dudes were hella mean muggin’, but they can’t see me though.

We then got back on PCH and headed to UCLA. We found a parking spot what seemed to be eight miles away from campus. I considered this to be our luck day. The campus was very nice. We walked around for a bit. Raymond even had time to insult a bronze bear statue with some UW shorts. Lots of females. I swear, the Socal weather forces bitches to stay in shape, and I like it that way. Afterwards, we went to the most random place ever…Denjin Arcade in Simi Valley. Yes, it was awesome. I felt kind of bad for Raymond since we drove HELLA far to get there. I guess it was alright because we had sort of run out of ideas. Denjin is the best arcade I have ever seen. Unfortunately it was kind of empty. I played a few dudes in SFIV for a bit which was nice. No Marvel players unfortunately. Highly recommended if you throw down on the sticks and happen to be in the area. We then got dinner #1 at Carl’s J.R., where I always order that rodeo burger, you know, the one with the bbq sauce and onion rings. Too beast. One thing I finally noticed firsthand is that California highways seem to go on forever. You need to drive at least forty-five minutes at 70mph to get anywhere. That was the end of our driving adventure. We ended the evening by picking up Christine at the airport. Raymond and I had already started drinking. I don’t really remember the rest of the evening.

The next day was tight. Tomas hooked it up with passes to the Warner Brothers lot. Better than a tour, since we had the chance to just walk around everywhere. The most amazing thing was seeing the trailers for the cast of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. I wanted to take pictures, but I didn’t want to come across as a mark. We also peaked into several sound stages. We even got to see the really big one that shows up at the beginning of every WB movie. Awesome.

Later that night we hit up a bar close to the crib. Raymond reminded me that we started drinking early that night, I believe it was when we went to go pick up Christine. Yeah, now I remember. We drank vodka from out the trunk. To make matters worse, while driving, we saw signs warning of police check points up ahead. What the fuck man, bullshit. For some reason, it was decided that I chug the bottle of vodka/OJ. Great, drunk already. What else is new? Good thing is that the best was yet to come. We hit said bar for a bit, T-Pain was working some mad game on like eight bitches so we left. There was only one place to go at this hour which was around two in the morning, and that was to get some fucking tacos. Cactus Taco to be exact. We walked for what seemed like an eternity, but we made it. It was worth the trek through some grimy ass streets. It was alright though since drunk logic and fearlessness go hand in hand. Let me just say, these were some of the finest tacos I have had on the West coast. The 213 came through for this one in hardbody fashion. I got tacos al pastor (pork) and asada (beef), while RayRay got some beef tongue. It was everything a taco should be. No way you can go wrong with that place. If you are in the area, don’t even think twice about it. Just do it. Come see me when you do. Much better than all that wack ass Yashinoya bullshit I had to sit through last time I rolled down there with the crew. I will rage next time that happens when in the land of the Taco shop.

Saturday rolled through, and we also did a bunch of shit. We hit up a farmers’ market in the morning. I saw Tomas pet a goat. I did not pet the goat, for I do not enjoy touching random animals. For lunch we went to El Taurino, another highly rated taco joint. This place was straight up mex. When the place is packed with la Raza, it is usually a good indicator of how good the food will be, regardless of how dirty it looks. I went with the carne asada, Ray had more beef tongue tacos, and The Darkness had some chitlins. The joint reminded me of the Dick’s business model applied to tacos. It appears to work very well. Later in the evening we hit up some Korean place. It was alright, but that shit is way too expensive. The money we spent there would have garnered us at least two days worth of taco meals. After dinner we took a walk. Maybe this is just me, but anything outside of Hollywood looks straight up hood. We ended up at some random ass street fair. The street was closed off, and a stage had been set up. Seemed like some generic ass salsa/cumbia/mergengue group. We watched them for a bit. I focused all my attention the lone backup dancer/singer. Bitch was looking real nice and thick. Had some real sexy moves and would have smashed on her real hard.

We then went back to Tomas’ crib, got fucked up and played a game of Kings. Why do we partake in such a game? We all end up embarrassed. I think we were all assed out by 5AM, too bad we had to get up early the next morning to catch the flight. I wasn’t too hung over, but my stomach was killing me. It was the worst during take off, because I was in my seat sweating trying to hold back the urge to purge. Never again.

Overall it was a very enjoyable trip. I know I am missing some key events here and there. I would be glad to edit this post later, but for the time being this write up will do.

Posted by: Pablo | November 12, 2008

Out Here Grindin’

Working like a Mexican

So after getting back from Europe I immediately started work at a new job based at South Seattle Community College, in West Seattle. “IT Specialist” is the title and it means I do all sorts of random stuff regarding IT. It is more laid back than my previous job at Mithun, but has much more upward mobility which is great. At Mithun IT was accessible at all times. At South, we work on our own terms. When I was shadowing coworkers, I noticed they would politely tell users to “fuck off”. Not those exact words but that was the core message. I was originally hired to take care of the Georgetown campus, which is a satellite campus for South. However, they turned it around and said I would be based at the main campus and then drive down to Georgetown whenever there was work to be done. Usually, I drive down once or twice a week.

Overall, I enjoy the job. I am learning new things such as working on servers, linux, switches, and ghost. If there is something I want to learn I can do so at anytime, which I really enjoy since it keeps things fresh. The only bad part is that there is a lot more politics and bullshit due to the size of the college. Since we are all classified employees and forced into union membership, everyone grows balls of steel and feels they are important even when they are not. It boils down to the heads of the school’s departments trying to beat each other into submission. IT gets stuck in the middle of it all. Thankfully, our director does not put up with anyone’s shit so it gives us some breathing room.

Now I will present you with my workspace at Georgetown. I have described it as a closet. It is not that small, but it is in a random ass location. You have to walk into a classroom first. It is just some door that looks like a janitor’s closet.

The outside of Building B, where my office is located

The outside of Building B, where my office is located

The Entrance

The Entrance
Yeah, my office is in a classroom

Yeah, my office is in a classroom

The Closet

The Closet

Another angle

Another angle

There are three buildings on the campus which are used for trade apprenticeship programs. Two buildings are fairly new and “green”. I get stuck into the oldest and most dilapidated of them all. Amazing. Do not worry, my office space at the main campus is your usual cubicle set up. The only thing that sucks is that I share a cube, but nowhere near as bad as I had imagined.

Building C

Building C

Building A

Building A

Thoughts on the Beast

Ever since getting my new job, I have been forced to drive everyday. This has put me in a tough spot with how I approach my pride and joy nowadays. I still love the beast, but I used to only drive it on the weekends where I could truly appreciate my car. However, now that I drive it everyday the allure of the beast has diminished. The car remains the same, but its purpose has changed. I feel as if the car is being wasted. To keep things interesting I have been driving it hard which is stupid and dangerous when there is a good amount of traffic on the roads. I have been thinking of getting something else. A beater, or something a little nicer. I have been eying some Lexus models since I have never owned anything “nice”. These are used cars mind you. If I were to buy something new it would be an Evo hands down, that thing is beast on too many levels. I figure at this point in my life I deserve a decent ride, not one built for the drag strip. Besides, most new cars nowadays are ridiculously fast right out of the dealer. It is like I need 400 horsepower at the wheels to even compete. Not to mention that my car is absurd on many levels. Trying to get a POS 20 year old car to keep up with better and new technology is difficult. Just look at the new BMW M3s. Unless I roll up in a Z06 with Intake/cams/headers/exhaust it would be hard to rape people on the streets in other real man cars.

This reminds me, now that I drive every day I get more attention from gross ass people. One time going south on I-5, a fucking Toyota 4runner kept revving next to me, the white boy douche bag even honked at me. He wanted to race, for some reason. No logic in his actions. I ignored it, because traffic was everywhere. Well, his douchebaggery attracted attention from a worthy opponent. None other than a mid-90s Toyota Camry. Awesome, because we all know that is the kind of action people want to see go down on the streets. The Camry weaved through traffic to line up with the 4runner and they were off. It is funny now that I think about it, but at the time I was just confused.


OK, there have been two times in the last few months where very flamboyantly homosexual men have hit on me in the most random spots.

Instance 1

I was helping my sister get ready for her drivers license test. It was essentially me sitting in the passenger’s seat while my sister drove around. Sometimes I would just fall asleep. One time my sister was driving and I was falling asleep when out of nowhere some gay guy yells, “YOUR BOYFRIEND IS HOT!” This dude was the epitome of the raver homos. Dude was decked out in a fishnet tank top, mini back pack, and those faggot ass Jnco Hardy Boy cargo pants.

Instance 2

Tonight I walked down into my building’s garage to throw out the trash and recycling. As I stood there picking out the glass bottles, a homo sees me the garage gate and asked, “Oooh, wanna come with me to the bathhouse? I would definitely pay your way.” I laughed and said no thanks. He just stared at me a few more seconds and then went on his way.

I am not sure what to make of all this gayness. It does not bother me at all, but goddamn these homos rush that shit down when given the chance. I just wish more females came at me hardbody like that, why must I do all the work?

Current Events

Oh yeah, so that black guy got elected. Si se puede? Good stuff. I hope black people take the ball and fucking run with it until they can no more. This is it. Granted, racism and socioeconomic disadvantage will always exist. However, Symbolism is powerful and it does not get much better than having one of your own in the White House after all this time. Politics in its purest form is empowerment. The time for bitching and moaning is over. Discourse. Action. If that does not happen, the opportunity will be lost. Obama had a more retarded childhood than most illegal Mexicans currently residing in the states. He embodies success in the face of adversity. Hell, a lot of black people refuse to accept him and he still hustled. The man is a machine. He should be considered a saint by all black people. Were a Mexican elected president, I can assure you Mexican households all over North America would have his picture next to their Virgin Mary statue. Guess we will have to wait and see.

Posted by: Pablo | October 8, 2008

Mexican-American-European Vacation 2008

Tuesday October, 7 2008

Italia and France 2008

I do not even know where to start with this trip. The original intentions of this family were to be a last hurrah of sorts in terms of familial travel. I got new job days before leaving. Horrible timing but it worked out seeing as how I needed to put in my “two weeks”. So I just bounced out of Mithun and told them I would be leaving forever with three days notice. Beast.

So what the fuck were some Mexicans doing in Europe? Apparently a lot, I had no clue just how much we were going to cover on this trip. I just google mapped that shit down and it is staggering how much we covered. It was a total of 12 days. Three countries and a shit ton of cities I have a hard time remembering at the moment. We started in Italy and took a train all the way to Paris making many stops along the way. It went something like this: Rome, Vatican City, Venice, Florence, Nice, Monaco, Cannes, Antibes, and Paris. We trounced all all over the place. We covered enough to never return to those parts ever again.

I would have really liked to document each day of the trip because I could have gone into much more detail than I am doing now. However, it would have been impossible seeing as how there was no time to do so. I am just going to freestyle it from here on out.

Roma and el Vaticano

Rome was impressive. I cannot believe how excessive people could be. From my understanding after having been there, Romans seemed to be the most elitist, narcissistic, and wasteful motherfuckers ever–past and present. The city was jam packed with things to see. Ruins, churches, monuments, and six thousand fountains (I counted). The most impressive thing was Vatican City. The church, Sistine chapel, massive amounts of marble creations, and the artwork is overwhelming. The man hours and skill needed for such things is incredible. Truly something one must see firsthand to appreciate.

The Vatican

Lance of Longinus

Lance of Longinus

Speaking of impressive, the women were fantastic. No, I did not bang any of them unfortunately. But goddamn, they were beautiful. I was telling the homies that you would have to try hard to get an ugly breezy over there. I am not sure what to compare them to. They did not look like the white females over here for obvious reasons. They reminded me of really white Mexican females. The bodies were perfect. Ass and tits in the correct proportions. The type of female that looks like she will not gain weight even after marriage–for the win. Before anyone asks, I did not take any pictures of random females. A decision that fills me with regret at the moment because my words would not do these fine bitches justice.

Anyways, I have to mention the Colosseum. I was not that impressed by it. There were buildings next to it that appeared to be bigger than the actual Coliseum, so the impact was definitely reduced for me. However, once inside the architecture was impressive. To have witnessed the spectacles first hand would be awesome.



Oh yeah, the food sucked. Small snack sized portions. Maybe it is the reason why their women are in shape. Regardless, not impressed at all. To be fair, all the restaurants served home styled dishes which was cool. However, when I am paying 12 euros for a pizza or pasta it better be fucking delicious and bursting with flavors for the palette. Nope, not even close. Had I replicated a spaghetti recipe it would have tasted the same as the shit we ate over there. This brings me to another tangent, fast food places were the best deals everywhere. How sad is it that a McDonald’s is the better deal in terms of price and quantity. Either way, fuck the Euro.


Very interesting city. Our first day there we walked half way across the city because I trusted my parents to lead the way. Unfortunately they had forgotten just how massive and confusing it is to get around by foot. Cool thing was that they now had commuter boats for tourists to get around. You bought a pass for the day and you could hop on and off the boats and see the entire city in the span of a day. Again, why someone would create a city like that is beyond me, but money lets you do all sorts of crazy shit so whatever. Every building had some sort of shop or restaurant. I have a hard time believing that such establishments make any money, seems like the city is over saturated with them.

One of the cool things was visiting Murano where all the glass blowing/artisan shops are located. Some small and some were huge resembling factories. To think, Dale Chihuly thought he could go over there and show them how to work with glass. If you do not know who Chihuly is, google/youtube him so you can see what I am talking about. What a fucking pompous and worthless ass clown. Anyway, several shops gave demonstrations on the creation of several pieces. After the demo, they would funnel the tourists into their gallery and try to make you buy their products in bulk.

Piazza San Marco

Piazza San Marco



Look at this man.  He is blowing glass in some running shorts.  Dude is beast.  Fuck you Dale Chihuly.

Look at this man. He is blowing glass in some running shorts. Dude is beast. Fuck you Dale Chihuly.


Saw it all in a day. Stopped by that old ass bridge known as the Ponte Vecchio. We then saw the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore which has some insane marble work on the exterior. It is as if they hired fifty or so Mexicans from the Home Depot parking lot and told them to painstakingly sort out pink and white marble slabs to use for the outside. Saw a bunch of plazas, the most significant being Piazza della Signoria complete with a replica of Michelangelo’s David and a statue of Persueus with Medusa’s head in hand. The only thing we missed was seeing the original statue of David because the line to get into the museum was two hours long. My parents had already seen it in person and I was cool on skipping it. My time is money anyway so we bounced.

Santa Maria

Santa Maria

What the hell?

What the hell?

The French Riviera

We were based in Nice for this part of the journey. A very cosmopolitan city with many beautiful people within it and yet, still grimy. Lots of minorities consisting of Africans and Arabs, most likely why they had told us it was one of the more dangerous cities. Which is funny, because at no point during our stay did we have trouble at any city. We walked around the beach and went out at night. Very nice weather, but we did not really do much simply because there was not too much to see in the first place.

The second day we went on a whirlwind tour. Somehow we got a personal driver to take us around to several cities on an eight hour tour. It was ridiculous but worth it because we saw everything worth seeing. Our driver was this French guy born in South Africa, who moved to Nice, and then moved to Costa Rica where he lived for seven years. He knew how to speak Spanish and had a thing for dark Latinas. The man was hilarious was awesome as our tour guide. He also drove like a madman but he knew what he was doing so I trusted his judgment. Although, we almost hit three cars while on the tour so it kept things interesting to say the least.

The view from Saint Paul

Monaco.  Where time really is money.

Monaco. Where time really is money.

We went to Monaco, Cannes, and Antibes. Monaco was extremely small. We just went to see the casino from the outside and walked around for a bit. Not too much to see aside from the views which were fantastic. Lots of old people too, I have no idea why but that is what the majority of the tourists consisted of.

We stopped by Cannes for a bit and saw the grand stairway where all those movie premieres take place. Did not look that impressive up close. The beach front was nice. However, not much else to look at besides all of the designer stores crammed along the main street.

Antibes was nice too, especially considering the history behind the city. Awesome strategic location for Napoleon, and seeing the remnants of the fort was very cool. Not to mention the millionaires who store their massive yachts on the pier. The owners of the yachts pay groups of guys to clean and maintain them year round. Often times the owners do not even use them, but they still pay for someone to take them out every once in a while. Amazing waste of money and cool to see it up close. Word on the streets is that Arabs are the ones with massive amounts of scrilla and it makes sense. Please believe they are the real ballers of over there.



We then took an overnight train, the ones that have bunk bed rooms so we could sleep. It was weird, because the rooms house six people. Meaning that we had to share the room with two other strangers, must have sucked for those guys since were acting like a bunch of rowdy minorities.

Paris is the only city I had already visited before. The city reminds me a lot of Seattle, probably why I like it so much. Very laid back atmosphere and really awesome tasting gyros. We saw the usual stuff like the Eiffel Tower and The Arc of Triumph (or Arc de Triomphe as the gays call it). We went from 90 degree weather in Rome to 60 degree weather in Paris. I felt refreshed after arriving. No more sweaty ball syndrome.

Random Tidbits from the Trip

Overall, everything is too expensive. I saw a pair of Nikes over there for 110 euros while that same exact model costs only 50 dollars over here which is more than double for the same thing. That is only an example of the absurd prices but you get the idea.

The food was not good. The tastiest things we had were gyros made by Arabs. They were delicious and reasonably priced. When you get charged 12 euros for a plate of bland pasta you look for alternatives real quick. I called it before going over there too but I had come to believe that Italy was where I could finally get some good food. Wrong and anyone who tells me otherwise is most likely white, because they tend to love shit with no flavor. Eat at a taco truck for fucks sake, and then come see me about delicious food.

Gyros.  Best European food I found over there.

Gyros. Best European food I found over there.

Again, I cannot get over how hot the women were over there. I need to get some Italian broad with an accent. I am not one who is usually awestruck by beauty, but I guess living in Seattle has deprived me of what truly beautiful women actually look like. A+ Italy, I approve of that ass.

Children should not be allowed on planes. They need to be over ten years old before getting on a plane, otherwise they annoy the fuck out of everyone. They never shut the fuck up and cry like little bitches. When I am sitting there for an eleven hour flight, the last thing I want to hear is a crying child.

Almost forgot. Since we made the entire trip on train we made several stops. One of these was Milano. So there we are at the station since we had to kill time for an hour. The number 2 call of nature was signaling and I had to respond. So I pay the .80 euro fee to handle some business. I get into the stall and I freeze. It was a squat toilet. Too many emotions ran through me. I was anxious, angered, surprised, and annoyed, but more importantly needing get some relief. However, I had to think about it for a bit. I had never used one of these things. What the fuck am I supposed to do here? I cannot do the Asian squat. The bio-mechanic nature of that pose is impossible for me to replicate. There was no time to practice either. To be safe, I took off all my clothes because I will be goddamned if I shit myself trying to be slick using one of these motherfuckers. I recalled my Kenpo Karate training and got into a wide “horse” stance. I had my arms out too just in case. I was not falling into the thing, fuck that noise. That act itself felt very strange. Had I been an avid camper or Bear Grylls this would have been a piece of cake. Sadly, I do not spend my spare time away from civilization because I tend to like modern activities and amenities.

In conclusion, awesome albeit stressful trip. I had one day of rest before starting my new job so it all worked out. Not sure what major trip I will take next with the family. I need to get on all the continents before it is too late. I have had enough of Western Europe. I think it is time for me to take a trip to the dark side, also known as Eastern Europe where they still think communism can work. Who knows, I guess we will have to wait and see.

Oh yes, please believe I wore that shirt while over there.

Oh yes, please believe I wore "that" shirt while over there.

Posted by: Pablo | August 17, 2008

D-Bo Stick


I have not had anything on my mind lately, just been taking it easy. And then one day it all changed. Big time. So I sit down with my boss to talk about some HR type issues. Then it turns out my contract runs out in October. Meaning, my ass is getting canned. What the motherfuck? Are you shitting me, is this shit for real? I have been at this place for over three years, working through school scrambling to wrap up credits for my wack ass degree only to be laid off a few months after graduating. Fucking bullshit. To be fair, things are not so good the architectural business. Some projects are simply on hold and people are left with nothing to do. Problem is since I am in the IT department, we have work to do no matter what. I guess they just bunch me in the overhead category and figure getting rid of me will save money, which is true but not fucking fair. Projections have come up short. But seriously, it is fucked up either way.

The worst part is there is nowhere for me to go and battle it out. Our team is constantly screwed. Three people to with an office IT needs is not enough and yet they feel the need to cutback. What am I supposed to do? “Aye dog, aye, yo man that balance sheet is wack son check it, you can afford to hire me as a fulltime employee!” I do not think that would work out very well and make me look stupid in the process. The white man’s economy always wins in the end.

Financially I am good. I can afford some time off. When I think about it, I have not had any breaks for almost five years. I could really use a month or two for complete and utter boredom. Then again, that Mexican work ethic must be quelled with constant cash flow. The grind for scrilla never ends. I have already applied an interviewed at a few places, so we will have to wait and see what happens. Next time, I am not taking anyone’s “word” on employment guarantees because this is exactly the type of shit that happens all the time in the private sector.


I have a very dirty mouth and it transpires through my writings. I do not know if this is good or bad. Thing is, if I were to hold back on the usage of such language it would not be authentic. I am all about keeping it real. I write this primarily for myself, and any amigos that happen to find my ramblings amusing. While I may come across as sexist, jingoistic, fascist, and racist, all these elements would make much more sense when people actually get to know me in real life. This is a disclaimer for those random people who happen to stumble upon my page, only to feel as if they have been kicked in the chest with a heavy dose of real talk, please believe.

The Olympics, and Why China is Awesome

China is beast. Plain and simple. The country and its people epitomize hardbody to the fullest. Take for example the little girl who lip synched during the opening ceremony. The lip synching itself was not the issue, but rather that the act took place because the original singer’s teeth were too ugly to appear on camera for the ceremony. Think about that for a second. Imagine that happening in the US. Uproar would arise from all around whether it is from hypocritical feminist groups, parents with ugly kids, and liberals finding some reason to correlate this with Tibet AND Dafur.

You see, countries like China get it and such actions give you a glimpse into the Chinese way of doing things. They know what needs to be done to achieve certain goals. Poor Chinese parents use most if not all of their annual income to send their kids to the best schools possible. There, the child studies constantly compete with other kids to be the best. The fruits of that country’s labor have begun to show. The country has a freakishly large and growing middle class that live in suburban styled “McMansions”, drive around in Mercedes sedans, and demand American made products to furnish their homes. China has been building up its human capital at an impressive rate with great success. You need to break some eggs to make an omelet, and they know this to the fullest. Much different from the US method where kids are taught to be pussies and fat asses. My respect to China because when your country is on the spot everything better be perfect. No time to fuck around having ugly ass kids ruining opening ceremonies.

That is all for now. I just got back from Vegas earlier in the week. I will write a little bit about that, but at a later time.


Posted by: Pablo | July 12, 2008


I wanted to write something about finally leaving UW, but I was unable to come up with anything thought provoking.  It appears that the experience had left me somewhat jaded.  One of the things I realized is that there was a point in time where I hated school with a furious passion.  This was probably the first two years at UW when I came in with the “I need to go to engineering or business school” mindset.  I spent hours staring at my books with out any goddamn motivation to learn anything.  When in reality I did not care about any of that stuff.  It went in one ear and out the other.  I retained jack shit of the material which sure as hell made negative impact on my GPA.  Unfortunately I spent the next three years digging myself out this hole.

So where the hell did it go wrong?  Honestly, I was not ready for a university setting.  I certainly enjoyed the atmosphere, but academically it was a terrible mistake.  Deep down I was hoping I did not get into UW while still in high school, which sounds terrible, but I had a gut feeling it was going to reign hell on me which it eventually did.  I had originally wanted to just go the community college route, because I knew for a fact that it would be easy street and then transfer.  All I ever wanted was a less than shitty degree.  I would have gladly taken a business degree from community college.  I know, it does not sound overly ambitious at all but it was certainly a more realistic approach.   At least that route would have been easier and a little more focused.  All I took away from UW was a random ass political science degree that is a little less shitty and worthless than something in communications.  Also, I am now a mid-tier Marvel vs Capcom 2 player thanks to all my training at the HUB.

I am not really sure what sort of conclusion to make about the experience.  A failure or a success?  I would like to think a little bit of both.  It would have been a complete failure if I were still working at that Jiffy Lube by University Village.  So I guess it was not so bad.  I have definitely matured a lot, and if I had the chance to do it all over again knowing what I know now, the outcome would have been much different.  None of my success has ever been a direct result of my book smarts so it is not that big a deal.  It was just a lot of time and money that could have resulted in a more satisfying outcome.

Also, I would just like to point out that I was proud to get a degree in a subject I do care about and enjoy a great amount.  It came naturally to me, and I really mean everything I ever said and wrote about in those political science courses.  I know there were some people in those classes who heard what I had to say and thought to themselves, “Is this guy for real?”  Yes dipshits, I was for real and always am, please believe.  Some of you may have noticed I do not even bother engaging anyone in a political discussion because I do not feel like destroying people.  I would rather sit back and decipher other people’s views.  I read people like books.  I guess just get me drunk enough to the point where I do engage you, which would be quite the spectacle.  From the start I knew I was very unlike the other forty thousand (at least it feels like it) UW polisci students who graduated this year with law school ambitions and hopes of selling out to the man.   Then again, I have always wanted a big house and Z06 Corvette, so I will need to swallow my pride kiss up to the man at one point.

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