Requiem For A Doubleyou Tee Eff

About a fortnight ago, I came home after a fairly long day of work (hey, growing E. coli and squinting while moving extremely small volumes of liquid back and forth takes a lot of energy) to find my roommate with his door closed but lights on. I thought nothing of it because it was nothing out of the ordinary. I stepped into the bathroom to find a 12mL plastic syringe with a gigantic metal needle sitting in the sink. The sink was splattered with a viscous, dark red fluid and the syringe was partially filled with the same.

“Oh Jesus Christ, he’s a junkie.”

But wait. A 12mL syringe is far too big, almost laughably big to be using for the purpose of injecting oneself with heroin or cocaine or speedball or whatever else Al Capone was so good at peddling. Observe, a 12mL syringe:

It’s like one of those syringes in cartoons that Dr. Bugs Bunny uses to shoot antibiotics into Elmer Fudd’s ass. Like so:
 

You fill that baby up, you could kill Keith Richards, bring him back to life, and kill him again. And that’s saying a LOT, because Keith Richards is a modern medical phenomenon, having somehow accidentally discovered the secret to immortality with a mysterious mixture of questionable cocaine-to-alcohol ratio. I’m pretty sure that he’s a walking, breathing mummy at this point. For the sake of discussion, let’s do a totally unbiased scientific comparison.

Exhibit A, young Keith Richards:


Exhibit B, Keith Richards today:
 
It’s like I’m playing those damn “see you if you can find the 10 differences between these two pictures!” game in Highlights For Children, and I’m losing miserably. Hx: Goofus and Gallant taught me everything I need to know about common decency and basic social skills. I guess I never really paid close attention, or else I would’ve known better than to irresponsibly exclaim certain statements about feces and phalluses in the workplace.

My word, that was quite a tangent. To the point: having known my roommate, BetterThanViolin, for eight-plus years now, I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that he could be a junkie. So how do I explain this horse tranquilizer-sized syringe?

He walked in and hurriedly mumbled, “Oh dude, I’m just refilling my printer ink cartridge. Don’t worry, I’m not a junkie or anything like that.”

Hmmmmmmmmm.

Several open letters to the community at large

Big ol’ bacon-grease shout-out to NotAMockery. YOU MY [GIRL] BLUE!
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The following is a series of open letters I’ve mentally accumulated the past few weeks. Most of these involve the central vein of our fair city.

Dear University Avenue in Berkeley, Calif.:

Thank you for making traffic on you absolutely insufferable for the past couple of months to re-pave your western end. At least now when I drive to and from work, I’ll only feel like I’m off-roading HALF the time. [Seriously, though, the new pavement is badass. The too-tight suspension on my Honda and my ever-so-delicate baby bottom thanks you.]
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Dear driver of Super Awesome Pickup Truck on University:

Thank you for driving slow enough to allow me to keep my left hand on the wheel while using my right hand to grab my camera out of my bag, take my camera out of its case, and zoom/focus onto the back of your awesome FAILBLOG-TASTIC TRUCK:

A hybrid what, exactly? I am 87% sure that the awkward steel frame of sorts situated atop your truck bed does not garner you the 50 mpg city/49 mpg highway that the new third generation Toyota Prius achieves. But I salute you, sir, for making my day a little bit better, knowing that if I ever wanted to, I could submit your vehicle to Failblog and take the credit and the love from the masses.
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Dear driver stopped next to me at the light on University and Sacramento:

If I want to have all my windows down while pumping Toto’s “Africa” at 8:30AM and singing along at the top of my lungs, quite frankly, that is my prerogative. Your double-middle-finger-salute, accompanied by your multiple colorful tattoos, prematurely balding head, severely jewelry-mutilated pinna, and undoubtedly tiny penis, intimidate me not. I’m sure your precious Oakland Raiders love to have your ravenous kind around, and to be honest, I don’t dislike you and your brethren – a crazy jackass loyal base is better than no base at all (read: Republicans Raiders USC former LA Raiders fans who have since hopped on the USC bandwagon Republican Raiders/USC fans USC) – but you feel the need to put me down for my loves and desires, well then by Jove I’m going to put you down for yours.
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Dear Z Gallerie on University Avenue in my beloved/much-avoided hometown of Palo Alto:

Well, it took damn near forever, but you’ve FINALLY closed. Your advertised “fine home furnishings” were tacky and far overpriced and your storefront an eyesore to the entire street. I sympathize with the owners/operators of the store, because this closure, like so many around the country right now, means that a few more good, honest Americans are out of jobs, but really, not unlike the bankruptcies of Enron, Lehman Brothers, or Umbrella Corporation, I think it’s for the best.
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Dear powers-that-be at Random House/McGraw-Hill/Scholastic:

These past four years, I have had the privilege (some might argue an unfortunate one; to them I say merely misunderstood) of knowing and befriending an incredibly unique individual. His sense of recklessness toward the laws of society by which we lead our lives and his commitment to always pushing – nay, shredding and destroying – that envelope is, at worst, cause for psychiatric concern and, at its very best, wild laugh-a-minute entertainment. He is the modern Tucker Max, minus the sexual exploits. I present the single most powerful argument for why you need to get this man a book deal NOW:
(10:44:45 PM) KNak: “annie le, you have a real good story and imma let you finish, but jaycee lee dugard had one of the best abductions of all tahm, of all time”
(10:44:54 PM) KNak: and im going to hell
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Dear faithful reader:

The fact that you have stuck with my incessant complaining and relations of unfortunate events thus far tells me that you are somebody worth rewarding, because no fool in their right mind would waste their time pitying a guy such as myself, much less read about his embarrassing exploits. But onward: on the right, under the section emphatically labeled “Bro vs. Manssiere,” is where I include some of my favorite websites (other than the obvious Google.com, YouTube.com, Wikipedia.org, NYTimes.com, and YouPor…yeah that’s about it I’m a decent guy I swear PR0N IS LEGAL IN CALIFORNIA GET OFF ME I CAN WALK MYSELF TO JAIL). Check them out – they are all quality humor; if you are a college football fan, DEFINITELY check out EveryDayShouldBeSaturday. There are few men in my life I try to emulate and follow; my father, Tucker Max, CarpeDM’08 and Orson Swindle, author of EDSBS, are in this honorable list.

We’re 2-0. GMFB.

(678): I wish I could rss feed the hooker ads on craigslist because it looks suspicious that I check craigslist every hour.

I sometimes seriously wonder why I’m the one writing this blog and not the universally-loved-and-misunderstood KNak. Gem of the night:

(10:39:39 PM) Gordo: strip clubs are such a waste of money
(10:39:47 PM) Gordo: if you're gonna spend that much money you seriously might as well hire a hooker
(10:39:58 PM) KNak: i suppose thats true
(10:40:11 PM) KNak: but strip clubs have more savory bitches
(10:40:30 PM) KNak: with a hooker you dont even know if she has both kidneys

(That one’s for you, AsianShaq. And I think the world needs to know about your fat stripper story.)

3 days until Cal football. I’ve been going through five pairs of underwear a day thinking about Lucky Number 13, The Jet, and The Prophet tearing it up on the field. BE TRUE, WEAR BLUE. GO BEARS.

Mystery Science Theater 2009

My phone just cheerily gave a single beep that I had never heard, apparently reminding me that I had a saved voicemail that was about to expire. The problem: I don’t ever recall saving a voicemail, mostly because I NEVER save voicemails. I typically have my left thumb on 7 whenever I listen to voicemails to lay the smackdown on the pesky little messages as swiftly as possible. And yes, I also Archive my emails religiously. A clean Inbox is an efficient Inbox.

Wondering what on earth a saved voicemail was doing in my inbox, I hit 1 to listen and I heard a bunch of giggling and the following message TO MYSELF FROM MYSELF:

“So I’m with Hsiao and Stacy right now. Hsiao said, ‘You only visit once every couple weeks now! [I assume we were in Palo Alto.] Why don’t you come back more often?’ And I said, ‘Because I have to work. And…uh…go drinking with my friends afterward.’ Then Stacy…wait…no, HSIAO says, ‘You’re going to grow up to be a GREAT father.’ [High-pitched, depressed voice] ‘Daddy, why don’t you spend more time with me?’ [Deep, angry, cigar-and-whiskey-rific voice] ‘Because daddy has to WORK. And go DRINKING with his buddies afterward.’”

I have absolutely zero recollection of this event ever happening. I don’t know what we were doing or how this ever came up in conversation.

I love the little surprises that the gods throw at me. It lets me know that the powers above still care about me enough to make me look like a fool every once in a while.

I was THIS close to being on The Price is Right.

Lessons in Chinese Culture, Lecture 2: the best things in life are free or heavily discounted.

This is why the Chinese absolutely obsesses over coupons and cream themselves every time they we can manage to save fifteen cents on a two-dollar can of soup (or bok choy or whatever the hell it is we buy). Never has “a penny saved is a penny earned” been truer for a fifth of the world’s population, especially in these perilous economic times. There are certain parts of This Glorious Nation of California where coupons are worth more than its weight in gold, where these sacred, poorly-printed slips of newspaper can buy you friends and earn you more enemies. You’d think that SF Chinatown would be the epicenter of this phenomenon, which is true to a certain local extent, but I argue that entire areas east of Los Angeles, such as Alhambra and San Gabriel, where billboards, street signs, and store signs are printed entirely and exclusively in Chinese, value these pennysavers the highest.

Of course, better than discounted foodstuffs and laundry detergent are giveaways, quality be damned. I went to a job fair on campus earlier this year for two main reasons: one, to find work, and two, to collect as many free toys and promotional items as possible. I have a whole little box of completely worthless crap from various companies who will probably never employ me in my lifetime, yet I relish the idea that I got these lead-painted, Made-in-China trinkets for FREE. All it cost me was a few dozen calories walking around the show floor, pretending I was interested in their company, and in some cases, literally grabbing and dashing. This is why I haven’t purchased a ballpoint pen in a while: elementary and middle school were served by the small hill of free pens given by pharmaceutical companies that my father had collected over the years; my high school years were served by a few extra pens that my sister had during her college years; the first couple years of college served by a couple of pens that I borrowed from classmates and entirely forgot to return (and they, in turn, forgot to request); and the last two years of college served by the large number of Cal Band Great pens sitting in the office. I am a whore, I know, what can I say, I was MIT ‘87 (that’s Made in Taiwan for you mainlanders and Mýllý Ýstýhbarat Teskýlati for you assholes wiretapping my phone and reading my e-mails. I’M TURKISH INTELLIGENCE TRAINED BRING IT ON).

Why do I bring up this lesson? One word: Caltopia. Billed as the “largest College Lifestyle Festival in the nation,” for the past seven years, this fair, adoringly referred to by many of us as FreeshitFest, has brought about tons of companies giving away free promos, advertisements, coupons, games, prizes, and free samples to get you hooked into what THEY think should comprise your College Lifestyle. Year after year, I go to Caltopia to eat breakfast/lunch, get stupid free crap, most of it useless, some it entertaining, rarely significant, and have a good time laughing about the interesting advertisement schemes that the companies come up with. “Two days of fun, food, music, & FREE STUFF! August 23 & 24 FREE ADMISSION!” is printed on the front of the Caltopia Event Guide, weighing in at 0.59 lbs. and proudly “printed by UC Printing Services on Recycled Paper with Soy Based Ink.” (I love you, Berkeley.) We didn’t stay for the entertainment – we made our own by spinning stupid wheels with crap prizes and throwing beanbags into holes of questionable size.

Notable features of this year’s Caltopia: the banks were advertising extremely aggressively this year. Wells Fargo had 12 representatives all holed up in one side booth while Bank of America was smack-dab in the middle of the entryway to the basketball courts (the main showroom). Wells Fargo had a spinwheel. Bank of America had Plinko. That’s right, America’s favorite game on America’s favorite daytime game show, The Price is Right, was at the Recreational Sports Facility at the University of California, Berkeley, and I didn’t play it because YOU BANKING ASSHOLES ARE PUSHING CUSTOMERS AWAY BY BEING SUPER AGGRESSIVE AND LITERALLY GRABBING US BY THE ARM BEGGING US TO BECOME CUSTOMERS and I didn’t want to get dragged into that black hole of you dicks spitting all over my face while trying to sell me on some introductory low APRs that I don’t need.

[You’ve never seen Plinko, say you? You’re probably the same Commie bastards who think Drew Carey is an adequate replacement for the legendary Bob Barker. Let’s amend that:

I PASSED THIS UP. IF THAT’S NOT DISCIPLINE, I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS.]

My haul this year:

-Pizza from Extreme Pizza – not coupons, actual slices
-Four cans of various flavors of Izze soda
-Too many samples of OLA LOA, a new sugar-free energy drink, as well as a free packet of OLA LOA powder
-A bag of pita chips and a sample serving container of Sabra hummus
-8 oz. of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream
-Popcorn
-Vitamin Water samples
-Honest Tea samples
-A zip-up bottle cozy (now I can conceal my open bottle in public AND keep it cold!)
-A legitimate nice notebook from Bank of America along with Bank of America pen
-Five small notebooks
-A coupon for free 3 oz. of yogurt from Yogurtland (I WILL NEVER USE THIS COUPON, YOU DISGUSTING, WATERY-YOGURT-SERVING MOTHERFUCKERS)
-Five San Francisco Soup Company coupons for $1 off any soup or custom salad
-Two pens from the Cal Student Store with the Apple logo on it, made from entirely recycled products, such as cardboard shaft and wood clip
-A tube of kiwi lip balm (yum) in a LIP BALM COZY WITH A KEYCHAIN ATTACHED TO IT
-A bag of honey-roasted peanuts, courtesy of Southwest Airlines
-Three coupons from Extreme Pizza for a free slice of pizza with purchase of drink
-Two free tickets for free club house admission at Golden Gate Fields (“HIS MUDDER WAS A MUDDER?” – 5 extra credit points for reference)
-A couple “got sperm?” stickers
-Desi Dog coupons for $4.00 combo special: 1/4 lb. dog, fries, and soda/water

And the winner: a goodie bag from the Sperm Bank of California containing four latex condoms (Durex, not sketchy unmarked), a keychain bottle opener, and a sample packet of IDglide personal lubricant

My cheapass Chinese side was gleefully satisfied all in three hours.

In honor of Bob Barker: Remember to spay and neuter your pets, kids. (Er, I mean remember to spay and neuter your kids, pets.)