Road Rage: Like 'Roid Rage, But I Still Have A Big Dick

Now that I've been living in Virginia for about a year and a half, I feel like I have the right to make fun of the state and its dumb inhabitants. What caught my eye more than anything else in this God-forsaken state is the amount of shitty drivers it has. I typically have no control over my emotions. Some might even say I have a "bad temper". Well, when it comes to driving with these shitdicks, the inner lunatic in me comes out. Road rage is a real thing and I feel like within the next 3 years I'll start to see commercials on television for pharmaceutical branded pills to help control road rage. I mean, for Christ's sake, we have pills for Restless Leg Syndrome. The inability to stop moving your legs. Fuck me.



I first truly learned about road rage when I was a sophomore in high school. We had to watch this shitty video in driver's ed about the dangers of driving. Realistically, I don't think there could be a worse time to have people watch about the perils of driving then right before you give someone the ability to drive. For the first time. Ever. So we start watching this video and it's a re-creation of a guy getting pissed off about getting cut off. So he follows the car who cut him off and then catches him and cuts him off! Talk about exhilarating. Next thing you know, they're pulled over and the one guy goes to his trunk and pulls out a crossbow. A fucking crossbow. Boom! Right through his chest. "But you didn't have to cut me offffffffffff."



So that's when I learned about road rage. From a video in driver's ed. And a guy pulls out a crossbow and kills someone who cut him off. I don't care. I get road rage. The worst case of road rage I get, and it's on a consistent basis, is when two cars in front of you, on a two lane road, go the exact same speed, side by side, usually 5 mph below the speed limit, and do so for about 10 miles. Get the fuck out of my way you cockboys! That's the shit that makes me want to drive my car 100 mph into a divider. Am I the only one who gets those urges? Should I consider getting psychiatric help? The answer is no way Jose.



There's also a stereotype that Asians can't drive. But that's not a stereotype. Asians can't drive. Asian men, women, animals, babies, you name it. They can't drive. They all have Honda Accords and drive them like they have mounds of rice shoved up their ass. There's no truer stereotype here in America except for the blacks being lazy. Just kidding Jibril, I love ya bud. Sort of. It's bad enough that the Asia people can't drive in ideal conditions. But if you throw in some rain or snow, good golly! These assholes are driving on highways like they're avoiding a-bombs in Hiroshima. That was insensitive. I lived with an Asian in college and he let me drive his orange Acura all the time. He liked smoking illegal plants. I miss him, but he couldn't drive neither.



Which brings me to my next point. Steroids. All this going on in baseball about so and so using steroids or HGH or adderall or whatever nonsensical PEDs. Who gives a shit really. If they all use them, it's not really cheating is it? The only reason I haven't used steroids yet is because my dick can't get any smaller. I'm twerkin' with a solid 2'' now, what happens when I start poking needles in my ass. It's hard enough (no pun intended) getting other things shoved in there. You think I have the time for needles to go in there too? Yeah right. So in no way are road rage and roid rage remotely close to the same thing. I just needed a reason to talk about the length of my johnson in the title.



I hate driving slow. I hate driving behind someone. I hate when people text and drive, except for me. I hate people who wear bluetooth headsets. I hate using your blinker when changing lanes. I hate waiting at red lights. I hate when people don't yield at a yield. I mostly hate everyone and everything that has to do with driving. If everyone drove like me, the world would be a much better, faster place. You'd get from A to B in like 4 seconds. You wouldn't be a pussy when it comes to rain or snow. And overall, road rage would cease to exist. But since nothing in life happens the way I want it to, I'll still be stuck with this baby dick but nothing will make me stop saying, "I am better than you."

Part Of Growing Up Is The Acceptance That Things Change

Today I went on a bike ride. My mentality shifted throughout the course of the ride. I initially got on my bike to clear my head. Get out of it for a little bit. It's as if everything around me is changing and I'm finally beginning to accept it. My life has been a turnstyle since March when my grandmother passed away. No longer were the chains in place to restrict my mom or uncle from going out anytime they wanted. No more stresses, no more anxiety. One person leaving this Earth did that. But there's more to it. My uncle's girlfriend of 20-something years has been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and things don't look well for her at all. Most of his time has been spent with her at the hospital. But there's more.

My grandparents moved into my current house in the 1960s. This has been in possession of the family for 45 years or so. According to my uncles and mom, it was a nice neighborhood with lots of trees and families. Well those days are done and over. Almost all the trees have been cut down. Most of the families that live here don't speak English or bother with anyone but themselves. Just yesterday, my mom's tires were slashed. 6 hours later the police showed up to investigate two stolen vehicles. Where the fuck do I live? Which brings this all back to me. I received a phone call during the middle of last week. It was from a company in Virginia. They want me to come in for an interview. My ticket out?

I've been trying to leave this God-forsaken city/town since 2006. That's why I went to school in Virginia. I'm tired of the crime that's seemingly gotten worse. I'm tired of the brash people I come across on a consistent basis. I'm over the snooty girls with their orange glow and big Louis Vitton bags. I'm sorry ladies, I can't compete for your affection when a Louis Vitton bag is my competition. This interview is the biggest, most important thing that has happened to me in the longest time. I'll be able to see my friends from school on a regular basis. I can enjoy the ingenuity of Virginia's residents. I can start my life anew.

So I went on a bike ride today. Passing through the streets that I've known since I can hardly remember. Thinking back to what it used to look like and how it transformed into this miserable pile of shit. But then I got sentimental. People give New Jersey such a bad rap about how unclean it is and how terrible it smells. And how everyone thinks they're from New York or Philly. Well most of us are from there. We just live in Jersey because it's cheaper. And I get that. And maybe it does smell. But you know what? It's home. It's always been home to me and always will be. People can trash it all they want, but it will always be where I came from.

Before I knew it, I was about 9 miles from home. Back to where I went to high school. A long ways to go, lost in my own thoughts. And that's when I realized that everything is changing. My city. My family. My relationships. My life. I'm actually becoming a grown-up and it scares the shit out of me. I hate the kids at my camp mostly because I'm jealous of them. Watching them make up some game on the spot, laughing and yelling, and making fun of one another. Not a care in the world. Genuine, sincere, and brutally honest kids are. I don't know why, but at some point in time we teach children not to be honest. I can think about it all day, but it never quite makes sense. Children have got it all, man.

Maybe I'm writing this post prematurely. But my gut tells me that it's my time to move on. It's time to start a new chapter in my life. It's time to move down to the place that will make me happiest. I couldn't tell you the last time I was so excited about something. Maybe 3 weeks ago when my friend came home from Turkey. But besides that, I don't know. I'm growing up and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Deep down, in that place where most people have their hearts, and I have a dark, black piece of coal, it's telling me that I'm going to get this job and I'm going to leave Garfield for good. I couldn't be more happy and scared all at the same time. Something tells me though, that things will work out for the best. They always seem to. Could it be, perhaps, because "I am better than you?"

How To Pull Off Being A Virgin In College

If you were intelligent and you read my 100th post, then you already know that I'm not actually a virgin. It's just better to pretend that I am because people think it's intriguing. Either that or they think I'm a hugeeeeeee loser. But I spent just about my entire freshman year of college playing off the fact that I had never had sexual intercourse. And I swear, it was the only time in my entire life that I ever lied about hooking up with a girl. I hated when I would hear stories from people about the wild sex they had and all the cool shit they did with a girl only to find out from several sources that it was all made up. So I made up an elaborate story and it went something like this.

For the first time in my life I was going to be surrounded by a bunch of males for a serious amount of time. It's easy to say that I went to high school and grammar school where there were a majority of guys, but college is different. These are people you see everyday from the end of August to the beginning of May. You begin to grow a rapport with them. A friendship. I needed to make sure that I fit in. It didn't take long before the concept of sexual intercourse came up. We would talk openly about the things we did in high school and the sluts we did them to. Of course, I had just made out with a girl for the first time in August of 2006. At 18 years old. My sexual prowess was nonexistant. Time to make shit up.

I learned that in order to be taken seriously when making things up about your hookups is to sell yourself short. No one would have believed me if I had told them I had sex with 10 girls. In high school that's just remarkable. Most people are dating each other for years at a time in high school, so the opportunity for multiple partners is highly unlikely. I knew that. So I gave myself a fair and completely reasonable number. 3. 3 is a number that represents many things. The Holy Trinity. The days between Jesus' alleged resurrection. The parts to the male sexual organ. Many great things come in 3's. So I had sex with 3 girls before college. Not.

(Jordan 3's. Duh)

My lie came out pretty well. Nobody doubted me, at least to my face, and I think the reasoning was because nobody gave a shit. One night in October I had gotten absolutely shit-faced. I was at a party that was about a 25 minute walk. I had made plans to walk home with my Jewish suitemate. Along the walk I revealed to him that I had only gotten my first make-out this past summer. Just weeks before we got to school. Despite being in a drunken stupor, he put two and two together and realized that I was a virgin. I didn't figure this out until my senior year. But I had finally gotten the truth off my chest. Now maybe I can live a normal-ish life.

(It's where we walked from)

So I went out maybe 3, 4, 5 times a week in hopes of meeting a slutty girl that I could take to Penetration City. My game is outrageous. I know that I could get myself in position to score with any chick at almost any given time. My problem was pulling the trigger. I got them so amped up, that I could never deliver the final dagger. I never make the first move and that resulted in me spending a lot of nights sleeping in my dorm with my roommate. Not together of course. I needed a kick-start of sorts. I got that with the 3rd floor girl.

I spent one night talking with her until about 7:50. I had class at 8. I ended up skipping class and missing out on some bonus points for showing up to the last class before Thanksgiving Break. All because of a girl. We talked and talked for the next couple of months and then we started fooling around. This was clearly my best chance to get my ball rolling. Except there was some definite stage fright. All my friends knew about it. All her friends knew about it. Yet nobody could solve the real issue at hand. Some real performance anxiety. It took me until the last night of freshman year at 5:30 in the morning to "get it in". I finally did it.

The real moral of the story here is that it's important to lie to the people you care about most. I could have been a laughingstock for the entire portion of my freshman year, and that could have translated all the way to my senior year. Even though I got stuck with the nickname Virgmann, it wasn't because I was actually a virgin. In fact, I started having sex all the time. I probably broke records and shit. But that's how I got away with being a virgin in college. You deny deny deny until your grave, until that one lucky night where you can finally slip it in. And that's what I did. And now I'm a living legend, or at least real close. All because "I am better than you."

How To Make This Memorial Day Weekend Fun, Fun, Fun

It's that time again. The unofficial kickoff to the summer. Back when I was in high school we would go down to the shore, rent a hotel/motel for the weekend, kick back, and drink some beer. Lots and lots of beer. Of course, I don't condone such behavior because I was a wayyyy mature 17-year-old. Now it seems as I get a little bit older, it's losing its luster. I'm no longer sleeping in a bed with 4 other people passed out drunk. Nor am I vomiting on those 4 people. Instead I go to friends' houses and sit and relax and barbecue and calmly drink beers. It's amazing what can happen in 6 years time. So I've taken the liberty to concoct all the ways that you can still have fun this weekend.

1.) Stop updating what you're doing on Facebook - I don't know how many updates I've seen for the past week or two about people proclaiming their excitement for this impending weekend. I don't give a fuck that your are going to Bethany Beach, Dewey Beach, OBX (Outer Bankxxx), Miami, Las Vegas, or wherever the fuck else you bothered me with. Facebook is a social medium thats intended use is so I can stalk your pictures. Or your previous boyfriends. I don't need to see the constant updates about how excited you are. Fuck you.

2.) Stop updating what you're doing on Twitter - Same deal. But this time it bothers me more. Stop ranting about how much packing you have to do. As far as I'm concerned, MDW is a 4-day weekend, tops. How much shit are you fucking packing? Do you plan on moving to the beach? If so, I could give two shits less. I like going on Twitter to see people make fun of some random person they don't know. Or for some philosophical shit. Not your play-by-play as to how the traffic is, where you are going, who's going with you. None of it. If I'm not involved, I don't fucking care. So leave Twitter alone. Please.

(So really the first two were for my sake, and I'm pretty much the only one who matters, so...)

3.) Avoid your parents at all costs - Unless your parents are fun as shit, which I doubt, exclude them from all of your plans. Actually, I think you should go the extra mile to ensure that you are somewhere that they won't be. I don't want to have family time, I don't want to sit and eat Chilean Sea Bass from the grill and drink wine coolers, I don't want to eat your organic, nitrates-free hot dogs, and I don't want to listen about your problems. I would prefer to be with my friends, making everyone feel awkward as I describe the parts of the male genitalia, and get hammer-drunk. These are things I can't do if mommy and daddy are around. The same reasons probably apply to you.

4.) Bring condoms - They say that the most pregnancies occur each year on Memorial Day Weekend. People are so excited for the summer that they are willing to have sex with anything that has a pulse and two legs. That's good news for me because I am ready, willing, and able. Plus, they are probably really slutty and will let you do anything you want to them. In that Kanye West/Katy Perry "E.T." song when he raps "And then Imma probe you" he has to be referring the butthole right? Every alien abduction case I ever read about includes an anal probing, not a vaginal or oral one. Well to get back on point, I think most of the girls will be up for probing this weekend as well. So add "lubrication" to your list that includes condoms.

5.) Just get hammer drunk - Even if you get stuck with your parents, everything is better when you're hammer drunk. It's even better when you're with friends. Anything can happen when everyone is smashed. Games of "Kings" in which people are getting naked, girls going to pee in laundry rooms because they are that out of it, pissing yourself, sleeping on a trampoline. All these things are possible and likely if you black out with your friends and have a group sleepover. Group sleepovers are underrated and that's usually when the most fun occurs. So it would be in your best interest to sleep with all of your friends and hope for the best. That's why we went to college, duh.

This MDW I will be alone in my room playing Dungeons & Dragons being bitter that everyone is having so much fun and having sex and being drunk and updating their Twitter and Facebook about how much fun they are having. But it will all be thanks to me that you are having that much fun. All because you read my blog and got some ideas. Ideas that only I could think of because "I am better than you."