I did a bad bad thing.

August 21, 2007

I must confess a sin. I, Tanks O’hoolihan, joined Facebook. I’ll give you all a second now so that the oxygen can flow back into your room where your gasp of shock left devoid of. You ok? Good. But yes, I joined Facebook. This may have been the single biggest thing I’ve regretted doing. Regretted because quite frankly, I don’t know why I did it. It was as if I was fueled by some sort of drug that leaves entire scenes missing from my memory, kind of like when you know you’re going to vomit and then you don’t and then think you’re ok and then you vomit and then the next morning you’re all “Why is my shirt all crusty”.

Everyone I’ve wanted to forget, everyone I thought I was over seemed to be on Facebook. If I had to describe Facebook I’d say it was a “Giant tentacle rape bunny” Giant because it extends so far, tentacle because everyone has an emo photo pose, rape because it’s raping my memories that I want to forget, and bunny cos it’s nothing like the horribleness that is MySpace.

When I saw some of the people who I hadn’t spoken to since (and even during highschool) on Gigantic Tentacle Rape Bunny (or the GTRP) if you will, I suddenly remembered things that had happened during highschool. I admit not all of it was bad, but there were definately some memories where Tanks gets kicked in the jungas and then the credits roll. Specifically for one person who I saw again on the GTRP. I hadn’t spoken to this person since year 7 and I don’t believe we said a word to each other during highschool. I mean thats fine and all, we were in different social groups, but why now? Why bother? Because you know the small talk conversation starter will begin with “Sooooo, what have you been doing with yourself for the last 12 years?” It just seems so moot.

But yes, FaceBook is like if MySpace and a bunny rabbit had a baby.

That is all, Tanks out.

The Columbian Times
16 August 2007 12:14PM

The following report may shock you. It may also scare you. It may also cause impotence. (also wang crackage)

Surveys of drug dealers have shown that they make more money selling cocaine on the street than their Columbian drug lord overseers. Overwhelming results from a 2 day test show that drug dealers on the street make around 40 – 45 thousand dollars per year, where as their drug lord earns around 32 thousand per year.

Some people say that the difference is acceptable, due to the drug lords handsome, sexy appearance and his gigantic penis. But is that really right? Has the world gone topsy turvey when a 22 year old drug dealer makes more than his boss. This reporter says no.

I’m walking down Cocaine Alley where I come across a young cocaine dealer. He wouldn’t tell me his real name but requested that I refer to him as Frans DeNahes. Below is a transcript of what transpired that evening.

Reporter O’Hoolihan (me): So Frans, why do you think you earn more than your average drug lord?
Frans: IJUSTBEBRINGINGUPOLDSCHOOL!
Me: Ummm right.
Frans: WELL I THINK IT’S MAINLY BECAUSE I HAVE NO SOUL!
Me: So you’re saying you sold your soul to the devil?
Frans: Naw man! I had to suck a lotta dick to get where I am today! You think I got this spot by working hard?! Hell nawww g-money! How you think I got this sweet ass location?
Me: Well you just said it wasn’t hard work, so I’m going to say ass?
Frans: HAHA hells yes! I totally let the guy who was here before me fuck me in the ass! Total ripped me a new one I can tell you that. After that he basically made me manager of this spot! I get my boys to sell the crack and all I do is sit here and wait for the dic… I mean money to roll in!
Me: Aren’t you scared that the local drug lord will become annoyed at the fact that you make more money than him?
Frans: Hell naw sweet cheeks! That mother fuckers all the way on the other side of town! He ain’t coming back till Christmas! So you know what I say to him? Y’know what I say?
Me: Errrr, don’t kill me? Please for the love of god, I love my arms and legs attached to my body?
Frans: I say HEY DRUG LORD! I MAKE MORE MONEY THAN YOU. I BOUGHT A NEW CAR AND THEN IT WAS SENT TO THE WRONG PLACE. BECAUSE I AM A DRUG ADDICT. AND THEN I GOT THIS PLACE AND I RUN THE SHIT. AND LATER I’M GOING TO COME TO THE EAST COAST AND TOTALLY TELL YOU TO YOUR FACE THAT I MAKE MORE MONEY THAN YOU. THEN I’LL WRITE AN EMAIL. AN EMAIL THAT HAS THE SUBJECT OF “NEWS FROM MAH SIDE OF TOWN” AND THEN JUST TALK ABOUT MYSELF! AND THEN I’LL WRITE IT LIKE IT WAS WRITTEN BY A RETARDED 8 YEAR OLD CHILD! WAHPOW! I GOTS THE COCAIIINNNNEEE! I’M THE RICHEST MOTHER FUCKER ALIVE! YEAAAAAAAHHHH! HAHAHAHAHA! PAZONIED!
Me: Well, I think Frans has just gone a little insane, and I must say that I’m quite uncomfortable right now. So I’ll end this interview and flee.

After those outrageous claims, I had no choice but to go and interview the drug lord on the east coast. Stay tuned for part 2

So yep! Two posts in almost as many weeks!

So my latest adventure involves weird social situations at coffee places and supermarkets. So I’ve been going to the same Gloria Jeans coffee stand almost everyday since I’ve been here and now most of the people who work there know my name. Admittedly I feel a tad rude as I don’t know their names, but I do believe that they have name tags. Normally if it was a once off visit to the coffee shop I would read the name tag, but since I’m always going there I don’t want to read their name tag because it’s right near their boobs and I’d much rather not being referred to as “the perv who buys coffee at 5:15pm every weekday.”

But yeah, I digress, eventually when one buys coffee as consistently and as regularly as I do some very small chit chat is bound to happen. You get your generic “How was your weekend” and the forever popular “So how are you today?” I was asked the first of these questions and I said that i didn’t have much of a weekend because I had to work. And then the kicker of questions “So what do you do?” Now I never ever know how to answer this question properly, so to buy time I say “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you” (which is, as I have found, is true almost 100% of the time) So then they are all “Oh really? Tell me anyway!”

At this point I have two options. I can tell them I’m a games tester or I can tell them I’m a video games tester. If I say games tester, most people will think I test board games (yes, this really happened. It happened when I was buying my plane ticket to come here). So usually I say I’m a video games tester. And they’re like “Oh thats pretty cool, what do you do?”. And really there can be no other response other than “errr, I play test video games. Thats my job description.” And they still pretty incredulous to the fact that I play/test video games. I always want to say “I TOLD YOU THAT YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE ME, BUT YOU HAD TO PUSH ME!”

And congrats to all my friends who quit their jobs! Every one of you got screwed by your company and now they’re loosing you as an asset, just because they wouldn’t pay you a little bit more! I hope you guys have an awesome time at the party tonight! (PS: Someone give me a lift there and back?)