Seriously, being a nice guy really fucking sucks. However, I can’t help it because it has become a habit. Yeah, I’m habitually a nice person. But the end of last year at SJU, my ex-roommate (My apartment ex-roommate, not to be confused with my dorm ex-roommates) told me that he wanted to move out of his forsaken house and find an apartment. I was aware of what kind of person he was from all the contacts and meetings that we had together back in high school. I thought I should help him out because he had a troubling past and a misunderstood weird guy at times (Most of the time). I felt that, hey, why not give it a try and lend a hand? So I thought to myself, he can’t be that bad of a guy. I mean I kind of admire him for being so independent, working in a pharmacy, paying the rent with his own saved up money unlike me. Yeah, he can’t be that bad of a person if he seems so independent and book smart. People keep telling me my ex-roommate is a weird guy and that I should reconsider on my decision. He can’t be that bad can he? Fuck me senseless, I fucking thought wrong. So much for being a fucking nice guy, what a dumbass I am. Let’s begin.

My apartment is comprised of two bedrooms, one smaller room and one bigger room. The bigger room is about a third bigger than the smaller room and when it’s empty you can literally hear an echo. Not only is the bigger room roomier, it also carries the ethernet jack, telephone jack, and the cable television jack. Basically, all the good shit is in his room. Knowing that I won’t be bringing television set and him calling the bigger room first, my ex-roommate took the room and I had the smaller room. So in the beginning of September, I told him that he should be paying a bit more rent because clearly logical for him to pay more because he has the bigger room. He even said his friends told him he should be paying more rent and then he shrugged off and went on his business. I thought to myself, okay…if you realize that you need to pay more, then why don’t you fucking do it? Again, my fucking nice guy conscience took over and thought maybe I’ll just sacrifice a bit because he is not exactly the most fortunate kid in the world, social wise or money wise. So I went along and paid fifty fifty dead even in the rent. But in order for this method to be a little be more fair than it is far from being fair, I made him paid for the cable internet, which gave him full control of internet choice and was about thirty bucks a month. Fair deal? Hardly. I am still actually losing thirty five bucks to him every month even if he pays for the internet alone, which he had the balls to whine and complain that paying internet by himself was too much. In actuality, I am giving away this nigga thirty five bucks a month for no fucking reason. Again, I am too much of a fucking nice guy.

Lets talk about human decency. In the beginning, the landlord gave us one set of keys to the basement. After receiving that set of key in the beginning of the semester, I quickly made a duplicate for my ex-roommate. For the next three months, I always thought there were only two sets of keys to the apartment, which is all the apartment really fucking needed. One set for me, one set for him, simple as it should be. In actuality and behind my back, the fucking cock mongler made two more sets of keys for his sister and his school buddy’s girlfriend. Yeah, his school buddy’s girlfriend, makes a whole shit load of sense. I don’t even fucking understand why he made a set even for his sister. It’s not like his fucking sister lived in his room a lot or paid the fucking rent. The most time she spent living there was probably about week in accumulation for the whole semester and that stay was mostly the during finals. What bedazzled my fucking mind to a whole new level was why did he make a set of key for his buddy’s girlfriend. If it was for his girlfriend, yeah maybe that will be a little crazier…but your fucking buddy’s girlfriend?! It makes no fucking sense whatsoever. I overheard his reason before when he telling my new roommate about handing over the keys. His reason was that his buddy’s girl gets a set of keys because she will be coming over a lot. So the fuck what? She is not paying any part of the fucking apartment, so why the fuck does she get to have one? So if she comes over to your house frequently, would you give her your house keys (He probably would because his logic is that fucking credible). This brings my piss to boil not only because of his reasons for handing out extra keys like coupons, but the fact that how much possible fucking risks there could have been when I wasn’t in the premises. Or even, how many more extra duplicates of the keys could there have been? It’s just fucking bullshit. The lack of consideration of me, his roommate who was paying for the other half and your portion of the apartment. With no consultation or discussion with me, he just went on his merry fucking cock sucking way and made keys for his sister and his friends. Just fucking incredible…

Lets talk about cleanliness. For the most part, the people who I hang out and chill with from time to time know that I’m a pretty neat, tidy, and clean type of person. Not to say I have OCD or a cleaning Nazi, a nice clean and friendly living environment is a proper place to live. From the beginning, I brought in a good amount of cleaning utensils to the apartment, Swiffer, Draino, Detergent, the basic cleaning necessities. And every week or at least once every week, I clean up the place nice and clean. Swiffer the floor, vacuum the floor, clean the bathroom, the whole damn shabangabang. The areas that I clean (Everywhere except his god forsaken room) was immaculate. And when you leave my room door, there you see the fucking garbage abyss. It’s amazing how his big ass room can end up looking like it’s smaller than the bathroom and he didn’t have much either. All he had were a television plus stand, a table, air bed, a small desk, and two boxes of books and notes. It was his weird obsession of accumulating garbage in his room. You can’t even open his room door all the way. You can open about two-thirds of the way through and BAM, the door gets stuck. And when you look behind that door, there lies a a fucking mountainful of eaten take-out boxes, cans, beer bottles, plastic bags, etc. There was one point in the end of November where it got so bad that baby flies began to surface in the apartment and I was wondering where it was all coming from. It couldn’t be coming from the kitchen because I clean the place and can’t be the bathroom because I clean it. It was coming from the garbage heap that he treasures behind his door and other places in his room. I can’t even fucking sit there or let alone stand there for five minutes without getting the feeling that I might inactively catch some form of venereal disease. Dirty used tissues were on the floor and garbage lying in random places, I swear my fucking wireless router, which was in his room, was probably raped by the filthiness trapped inside the room. There was even a time where I noticed the recycle bin was giving off a funky smell. I kindly asked him to help me throw it out before it gets worse. He comes over and takes a whiff, turns around and tell me it’s not that bad because the smell doesn’t compare to Chinatown and shrugs it off. Right then and there, I was just fucking amazed. What the fuck do you want this place to smell like fucking rancid garbage mound before it finally tickles your penis to realize it’s time to throw out the damn trash? There was also a pile of cardboard laying in front of the refrigerator for about a month or so. At one point, I kindly asked him to cut it up and throw it away to make the place more walk friendly. And with goofy ass shrug, he said yes he’ll do it. Two weeks later, I still see that fucking pile of cardboard right in front of the fridge and then I just fucking finally gave in a did it myself. I cut it all up with a small knife and wrapped it up just for him to throw it out. It is just freakin’ fool proof right there. And to be extra cautious, I told him to be sure to throw it out by tomorrow. Yeah, go ahead call me a fucking persistent dickface, but this kid has the audacity to ignore overflowing smelly garbage that is needed to be thrown out even when he is leaving the apartment for school or whatever. If one bag is full of garbage, he’ll simply make another bag full of garbage on the other side and leave the already filled one laying there unwrapped and unfixed. From time to time, I see his fucking friends throwing their fucking Arizona cans into the regular trash when the recycle bin is right next to it. I mean it’s not like they were there only for a few times. They’ve been there long enough and should be smart enough to figure it out by now. Pharmacy kids my ass. I had explicitly explained it and pointed out to my ex-roommate. And again, he shrugged it off with his goofy ass look.

Lets talk about dumbassness. So about earlier this month of December, I got a ride back to the apartment from my parents because I had to start studying for my finals. On that Saturday night, I came back and saw my metal front door wide open and only had the door knob of the second wooden door locked to keep the place secure. I was just so damn pissed right then and there. I thought he forgot to close the metal door knowing that he is oh so caring about the apartment. I called him later that night and asked him why he left the metal front door wide open. Apparently, he told me that he left that Saturday afternoon with his hands full so in order to close the metal door he kicked the door shut. In my mind I’m thinking, how fucking retarded is that? Couldn’t you have just placed the stuff down and close it properly instead of fucking god knows what you did, maybe you fucking drop kicked the fucker shut and failed badly. It gets worse from there. When he came back on the following Monday, he came rushing to me and told me his key was stuck in the metal door from the outside. So I went out half asleep in the freakin’ nineteen degree weather to see what is going on. He was telling me how he tried to fixed the door for the past fifteen minutes and couldn’t get the key out. I’m just standing there looking and thinking, how the fuck can you say you tried to fix it when you hardly did anything to the lock to examine it? In the frigid fuck face nineteen degree weather, I had to dissect the cold brass lock with my bare hands (I couldn’t get a good grip of the metal with gloves on). After half and hour of dissecting the lock open, I discovered that half of the lock was literally destroyed. The outside portion of the lock had a spring coming out and I decided to dissect it even further. I found out that the outside half’s lock mechanism exploded inside within. All the spring and all the brass pieces that contours to the shape of the key that allows the lock to open, that shit exploded into pieces. Now, I’m really wondering how fucking hard he really kicked the door closed. Luckily, the inside half of the lock is still intact and so I decided to take it out and switch it. The total process took about two long whole fuck nut hours in nineteen degree weather from three to five that Monday afternoon. While I’m standing there working my way through to temporarily fix it so we still have a door to close to secure, that douchebag is inside either just studying or jacking off on his own. His sister had the balls to giggle and laugh and reminding me that it’s nineteen degree weather outside. Then, she merrily placed herself on the couch and resume talking to her friends on her phone. That really brought my fucking piss to a boil. Hey, how about instead of pointing out the obvious and make yourself fucking useful around here since you don’t fucking pay the rent of this apartment. Even if I do call my ex-roommate to come over and help (I did call him over to explain how he destroyed the lock), he would just stand there with his goofy face and tell me to give it up and let the landlord fix it. Yeah, landlord fix it…does it look like the landlord has fucking time to deal with this shit? The landlord has two young children, a son and a toddler daughter, you really think he has a good amount of jolly fucking time to skip down the stairs and fix it? You sure got your head up your own ass. Just because we don’t fully own this place doesn’t mean we don’t have the obligation to assess any underlying problems at the moment. If there’s a big ass turd on the outside stairwell, are you going to ask the landlord to scoop it up for you? Go fuck yourself.

Let’s talk about laziness plus dumbassness combined. I am not exactly the most studious and active person in the whole world. Yeah, I procrastinate a lot, but at least my laziness does not stoop down to such a level that actually jeopardizes people. So I remember one late night, it was about one something in the morning and I was just getting ready to sleep. All of a sudden, I hear a faint beep. It sounded like a smoke alarm beep. So curiously I opened the door and a barrage of smoke comes entering into my room. The whole kitchen was fogged up with smoke, and the rooms were choked up with smoke. I looked forward and I saw the smoke coming from the microwave so I quickly stopped it. I turned around and saw the bathroom door closed with lights on. I was so fucking pissed. I knocked and screamed to get his ass out of the shower. He finally opens the microwave door and he shows me a tray of four out of eight dark charcoal lumps. I asked him what the flying rainbow fuck was he making? With his goofy ass face, he tells me he swore he set the correct amount of time to the microwave to make shumai. It was just fucking unbelievable… He actually tried to make shumai in the microwave. Couldn’t he have done it on the stove? I mean it’s right fucking there. I knew it would finally get to him because last time he tried to make instant noodles and hot dogs on a bowl full of water in the microwave. And that took about thirty minutes to finally sort of cook the pile of shit. I mean he could’ve fucking done that in ten minutes on a pot full of hot water. What a dumb lazy cunt. So the whole place smelled like burnt shumai for the next two weeks and then he finally starts to use the oven. Oh the stove…seriously…I really don’t know what the fuck he makes on stove and turns the stove top black. And when he does cook, he takes the crappy ventilator for granted and doesn’t open the door to clear out the smell. So when he cooks whatever he’s cooking, Choi Yook Bow (Meat and vegetable buns) or shumai, he would make the whole kitchen smells with this funky ass odor. I come back home from school and the whole place is foggy, stuffy, and smelly. Seriously, that is just total lack of common sense right there.

Lets talk about annoying and creeping the fuck out of people and also respect. There are times when the word weird can’t fully encompass and explain certain situations. So he has this friend that he always brings over every Monday and Wednesday. Basically, it felt like I had like a pseudo third roommate. I can understand that he was being a good friend and allowing a friend to have a closer stay to school for an early next morning lab. But, do you guys really have to sing like wailing cats at midnight? And was it really goddamn necessary for you guys to get drunk two in the morning and start practice kicking the martial arts shield when everybody else in the house and neighborhood was asleep? It was even more fucking annoying when his friends came over one time early in the morning and were giggling and laughing really loud. They were all wailing and screaming about the size of his cock, about how little it was and that it resembled his third testicle. Seriously, I don’t need to fucking hear that in the early morning. The fucking lack of respect is so goddamn prevalent. It was even worse when one of his friends deliberately talked shit about me out loud without knowing I was in the apartment that day too behind closed door. He was bitching about how I was rude to tell him to close his door when they were partying on a fucking Thursday night and stayed up late. Nigga, one shut the fuck up because you don’t live there. Two, I only asked you guys to closed the door and not shut the fuck up. Three, I was up late because I was studying philosophy for a presentation unlike your dumb drunk cunt ass. If you’re going to talk shit amongst you and your friends, keep it fucking low dumbass. Total lack of respect coming from a guy who doesn’t even fucking belong in my apartment. Lastly, my ex-roommate just has this obsessive disorder to come in and wander into my room for no reason. He has already tampered with my laptop once before, secretly placing a creepy to do event on my Rainlendar telling me to marry my girlfriend. That is just fucking rude and creepy. He also most likely comes into my room for no reason just to look. Let alone that it was impossible for him to find about me having a new phone without inviting himself into my room. On the day that he finally moved all his stuff out, I deliberately locked my room door and left a note on his table saying that to be sure to leave all the remaining copies of the apartment keys and any other important items on the kitchen counter. I came back that night and found my room door unlocked with a book placed on my desk. What the fuck? Didn’t I just tell you to leave everything on the kitchen counter? Why the fuck must you unlock my door and persistently venture into my room to scout or whatever that you do? It’s fucking creepy and unethical. Yes, I go into your room a couple of times to check on my wireless router to see if it’s working properly. And in the beginning of September, I was playing Gran Turismo 4 and Karaoke Revolution. But, I don’t deliberately go in there to look at your shit and do anything that disrupts the idea of privacy. Please learn that a locked door and a note telling you not to enter means don’t enter. Holy fucking shit, it is that fucking simple… And it was very fucking creepy of you to warn my new roommate about not jerking off openly because the door lock is a bit messed up. He made it sound like the door lock is completely broken. But all it really takes is a little adjustment with a screwdriver. I guess the dumbass didn’t think of that.

Seriously, being a fucking nice guy really fucking sucks. The notion that nice guys never win still holds true to this day. Nice guys get shitted on by assholes and fucked by dick heads. To sum it up, for being a nice guy for the past four months, I actually gave away $175 bucks to that cock mongler for free to live in that apartment. I hardly enforced any responsibilities on him. All I really told him to do was hand in the rent to the landlord when he is available and ask him about one problem about the apartment. But, I guess it was simply too much for that asshole because he still complained that he had to do everything himself. Truthfully, I did most of the shit myself from fixing stuff around the apartment and cleaning up your contributed mess. I have not one time truly and fully complained to you about the shit load of fucks you pile up each and everyday. I simply kept it all to myself and hushed it. God, what a dumb nice guy I am. When I came back that night when he moved, I felt like the whole fucking apartment was fucking robbed. I opened the cabinet, the bowls and plates were gone. Do you really fucking need it back at home? In honesty, that shit ain’t even yours because you stole that shit from school. You might as well have stole the whole fucking stove oven while you’re at it. I remember the toilet paper roll was still half full before I left and when I came back that shit was empty. Now, that’s pretty fucking cruel. If my ex-roommate does come back one day to ask me for everything I owe him, he can go fuck himself because I have $175 dollar leeway on your fucking head. I would like to as a friend to help him sort out his emotional problems or whatever underlying problems that he has. But, I probably wouldn’t get to him because I don’t have a set of tits and a fourteen year old Chinese girl face. I just fucking gave up. Whatever I said to him never went through. All I got was a fucking goofy ass shrug. So fuck that.

Nice guys never win. I wonder when will I ever get that habitual niceness out of my system. Gah, fuck me senseless.

Fucking hell.

Today…yes today, I finally did my laundry after two week accumulation of stinky clothes (That includes my dragon boating wear). I went to my local 24 hour laundromat about a block away from my little basement apartment and then a surge of nostalgia rushed into my head. It’s not that I’ve been there before, but it’s all those childhood memories of the laundromat that I used to go with my mom. The laundromat at 17th Avenue and 65th Street in Brooklyn (Bensonhurst or Dyker Heights, whatever). I had a shit load of memories there, from the smell of fresh clothes to dumping mad coins into the Street Fighter II Championship Edition machine that everyone crowded around in the back. It has been how long? 13 years? Since I been to a laundromat to clean my clothes first time by myself (Yes, I do clean my clothes at home…I’m not that lazy). Even though the laundromat gobbled up $4.50 from me just to clean my clothes and even lost a newly found quarter into the drying machine (That machine is an asshole), the childhood memories were just too overwhelming. Mmm… Yeah, silly me.

P.S.: I forgot what I was going to write for my P.S.. I must be losing my mind. (>__>)

Plowie, plow, plow, BOOOMUH!

P.P.S.: Prior post of the random poll, it was suppose to be an idea for the shirt design contest on Threadless. After several revampings of my idea, i finally ended up with this oogly design that I submitted just two minutes before the deadline last night.

Edit Squared: I mistakenly thought the deadline was that night, but in actuality it was the next day of CST midnight. At least that silly mistake gave me a one day leeway for any submission mistakes.

Here’s the oogly link.

P.P.P.S.: My submission to Love Threadless: Drawing shirt design contest was rejected.

“Your submission has been declined simply because we can’t figure out how it relates to the theme! This may be an oversight on our end, so please accept our apology if this is the case. You may resubmit using the comment box to explain how it relates to the theme, or simply resubmit as a regular, non-”Loves Threadless” submission.”

How does my design not relate to their theme? They weren’t really specifically asking for anything but doodles, drawings, sketches, basically any original drawing materials. How my design does not fit with their so called theme is mind boggling. I know I’m not going to win the judges, but hell at least take my fucking submission. Whatever, I’ll fix it up and send it to Woot. Threadless can suck a big bag of baby dicks.

And yep, Koala Munchies is my tribute to a favorite childhood snack of mine (Most likely yours too), Koala’s Marching. The choclatey goodness of koala bears. Mmm… :9

P.P.P.P.S.: So I wrote an email complaining on how Threadless rejected my idea. Apparently, I had to send a sketch along with my design (Which they did not indicate at all…) in order to be accepted.

“It helps to include your original sketch in the presentation so it’s obvious that your design started as a sketch and was not just a digital piece. You can resubmit if you’d like and I can add it to the loves challenge if you resubmit by 5PM CST today. Just make sure you indicate in some way how it’s related to the theme. Please let me know the title of the submission once you’ve sent it in.”

Fucking load of shit cakes. Now, I have to run back home and do my sketch because I winged my idea after drawing the first koala bear. Douchebags, seriously.

Yeh So Nyuka!

EDIT: Scratch this poll. I was planning to experiment with this idea and use it as a shirt design for a contest. I found another idea that might be better. Let see how well it will come out, or if I even have the time to get it out.

So I was invited to some drinking party at Aaron’s house a little over a week ago. Aaron, Sandro, and Tim decided to make a party for no apparent reason, I guess they just wanted to have fun and Aaron’s family was out for the weekends. Aaron and Sandro were in charge of getting the booze and they kind of ended up buying just a little too much, maybe about two or three extra cases of beer and liquor. Along with the mass pile of booze, there was also Rock Band and uh yeah pretty much Rock Band (After jamming with drums for half an hour, I got pretty good on medium). With approximately fifteen to twenty people coming on their way, I have to say it was going to a success, but I also had some unsettling feeling about it. Tim told me to loosen up and just go crazy for tonight…yeah, I wish I can do that.

The party started out with a few rounds of beer pong and a couple of celebration beer drinking. Beer pong is alright except that it was hilarious when Aaron took a sip of the pong ball cleaning water with a load of dog hair, dirt, and lint (That water was all milky and shit). Tim brought in his two other friends whom I don’t know quite well, but meh party is a party. Unsettling feeling began when Tim and his two friends decided to take their time to go upstairs to Aaron’s room to get high off of some diesel bag of Asian weed. I personally have nothing against those two, but I just really hate smoking or anything pertaining to it. Thirty minutes later, these guys came down high as shit (minus Tim because he only took a few hits) and ready to play another wave of beer pong, note two of the three guys right now are fucking delirious. The night went on and more people came to get drunk, mostly seniors from Tech that Aaron’s girl invited and also Evan, Leo, Leslie, Tommy, Ken (Cool Mandarin guy that Sandro met on WoW, yeah…WoW) and some random ass dude name Francis came out of nowhere in the middle of the night serving himself orange juice and some vodka.

But you’re probably wondering what the hell I was doing besides observing the party like some dumbass in the corner of the room. Before the party, I was planning to get wasted like all the other people currently in the room. But this unsettling feeling, I just couldn’t help to worry about how A-Squared and Tim would be by the end of the night. I wasn’t planning to get drunk to begin with and my girlfriend told me not to get drunk anyways (Alright fine, I was a tiny bit tipsy but I stopped. Sprite Zero and Vodka taste like crap period.) Already by ten o’clock at night, Aaron became a horny drunk (Checked on him several times), Sandro became a forceful drunk (Had to slap him a few times), and Tim became an obnoxious drunk (He rubbed his head on my chest and bit my right boob). There was one point at night where there was a load of yelling from those three and I had to calm them down. I was worry wart that night, roaming down up and down around the house checking if everything was alright, zipping in and out of rooms to see if everything was intact. Then came that climatic moment at night around 11 PM…

Everyone began to clean themselves up and called it a night. The room got empty in an instant as the people left to wait at the bus stop. When I saw how empty the room was, I ran all around to make sure those three were still in one piece. Sandro was piss drunk with Tim and his two friends downstairs. However, Aaron was missing and I quickly ran out to the bus stop and made sure he was with someone safe, fortunately he was safe with his sober girlfriend. So I was a little relieved when I came back and decided to clean up the place. I mean come on, booze everywhere, the Aaron’s cute yet crazy dogs were cleaning the boozed filled floor with their tongues. As I was cleaning the place up, Ken came back into the house with something on his arms. Something alright, Leo’s unconscious body. Apparently, Leo went out with the group to the bus stop to wait with them. Little did I know that he was actually piss drunk from all the vodka he was secretly chugging during the party (We all thought he got drunk from the pussy drinks). From what I heard from Ken, Leo probably got angry over some matter and became furious enough to drunken smash his own face to the bus pole repeatedly until he finally collapsed on the sidewalk. So there was Leo on the cold wood floor, mumbling, grumbling, and growling with his face full of abrasions and a huge gash on the top of his nose near his eyebrows. His gash was excruciatingly deep and bloody. His hands were cold and clammy. My heart was racing on what to do while the drunken three was just standing there giggling and laughing at his bloody unconscious body. I screamed for first aid kit but the first aid box had so little medical tools (It has sterile gauze but no medical tape…). so there I was spending the whole night cleaning his bloody wounds on his face and later found a long bloody scrape on his arm which I had to bandage. Every time I cleaned his gash, Leo would unconsciously moan and spaz. I had to keep my cool and keep him calm as best as I can. I was very grateful that Ken (One of the only two guys sober in the party) was there to save his ass and he was quite relieved that I was the only sober one left to tend Leo’s wound. I spent the whole night watching over Leo after bandaging his wound, always made sure his head was always upright until the bandage settled in place. From midnight to six in the morning, there I sat along side or nearby watching him along with Tommy (He got sober by two in the morning). During this time frame, I also took care of things by cleaning up the beer drenched table, washed the dirty dishes on the sink, and fed water to Aaron’s three thirsty little dogs, not to mention I also boiled a couple of kettles of hot boiling water and made cup noodles for the drunkies with the huge ass munchies (I can’t imagine letting them handling the hot water kettle with their drunken hands). Without a wink of sleep until seven in the morning, I wandered around the quiet house making sure everything was still in one piece, especially Leo.

I just couldn’t help myself on worrying about others. I guess it’s just how I am, a little motherly figure around those three (Aaron really did call me a mom once). Tim got furious at me that night, I can recall him drunk cursing at me for stopping him from drinking too much and having his fun. I mean sure I won’t stop you from having fun but it went a little out of control. There you were that night screaming at that poor girl, threw a lighter near me from the second floor, bit me on my right boob, and cursing at me throughout the night. Sure I didn’t had drunken fun like you did that night as you wanted me to, but I was also worry about your three dumbasses safety. No matter how many times you tell how drunk you were at your birthday was and how you were alright at the end, it just doesn’t pierce into me. It is just how I am, a fucking worry wart, that’s my nature. It was a self defined duty that I had to comply with. I’m sorry if I fuck things up over for you.

Well, that’s one delightful night I had and a story to share.

Pew pew pew! (^__^)