Life is funny.  I never thought, growing up, that I’d be taking dance lessons.  I always thought dance lessons were for sissys.  Hell, … even now, I imagine if my future son were to ask me if he can take dance lessons,  I’d probably whoop his ass silly and then immediately proceed to take him to a titty bar.

But yet, here I am.  A month and change before I’m to get married, taking fucking dance lessons.  You believe that??  And the ironic thing is this.  I remember when my other friends got married, and their chicks made them take dance lessons, I laughed at them sooo much!  As each one got married, almost every single one of them took dance lessons.  And every single time this happened, I made fun of them incessantly.  I got such pleasure out of poking fun at this.  But I guess that only serves me right.  Cuz here I am, on my only day off, spending an hour or two with my chick trying to be fucking Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.

GAY.  GAY.  GAY.

I never thought that I’d ever, EVER take dance lessons. Especially because this whole thing is solely to prepare for just 2 minutes of a wedding.  Then again, I never imagined that the first dance during the wedding would be such a big deal.  I figured that I’d just get up there and slow dance like I used to during my seventh grade school dance.  But I guess that’s why chicks are different from guys.

The funny thing is this.  All those weddings that I went to before, when I saw the newly wed couple dancing, the thought that the couple might have taken dance lessons never crossed my mind.  And I guess that makes this whole thing even sadder.  No one will even notice that all this painstaking effort went into that 2 minutes of dancing. 

And as I’m standing there, trying to move my hips the “Latin way,” to the rumba steps, … I start to wonder how in the world I found myself in this position.  And the only thing I can recall about this whole thing is of how my finance went and booked the lessons without telling me.  And then simply just told me that we needed to go because she already paid for them.  I guess somehow that made sense to me, as I didn’t want to waste money.  It’s only now, that I realize what a sneaky little fucker she was.

But whatever.  There’s something else I realized.  I’m a good fucking dancer. 

I’m now writing on radical apathy.  Feel free to stop by if you’d like to.

I hardly watch TV anymore.  I remember there was once a time when I used to make time to watch my favorite shows.  But now, the concept of catering your schedule around TV seems so foreign to me.

And since I don’t watch TV regularly, when I do finally get a chance to, I have no idea what’s good anymore.  And these days, it seems like so many of these shows require so much time investment.  Like if you hadn’t seen the previous 5 episodes, you won’t fully appreciate the current.  Therefore, I pretty much end up turning to MTV for some mindless entertainment. 

Last night was one of those nights.  And although I hate MTV for this show, I can’t help but watch it when it comes on.  Have you ever seen the show MADE?  For fuck’s sake.  They are taking the most pathetic kids and exploiting them on TV, just so you can laugh at them.  They’ll show that really skinny kid that wants to be a wrestler.  They’ll find the whitest white guy that wants to be a rapper, and put him on the show.  It’s pathetic!  Hell, … they might as well put fat Jay on and watch him try not to eat them oreos.  Or put Kai on there and watch him try not be such a homo.  IMPOSSIBLE I TELL YA. 

And that’s why it’s so friggin enticing to watch!  Because it plays on everyone’s evil side.  Because deep down inside, … everyone wants to laugh at other peoples misfortunes.  Everyone wants to say “Damn, … I’m glad I’m not THAT guy.  HAHA”  And MTV does just that.  Except that they find the worst of the worst.  And to top it all off, they’re doing this to high school kids!

In last night’s episode, there was this fat dorky looking kid that walks around like a duck.  He wanted to be “made” into a lady’s man.  Sure I’m sitting there cracking up like a lunatic.  Sure, I’m making fun of him and thinking to myself, … “damn, … this kid is such a dork!”  But it’s not my fault, I tell ya!  It’s MTV’s fault for putting these kids on TV for me to laugh at, damnit.  Sure, … these kids are the ones requesting it, but they’re just pathetic desperate kids!  I would like to see MTV do a documentary about how these kids feel about being on Made 10 years after the fact.  I bet you all of these kids would have felt like a big ass idiot for volunteering to be on the show.

What really really gets me is not that they’re putting these kids on TV to make fun of them, … but rather, that they are doing so under the guise of “helping” them reach their goals.  And all these kids are like, … “Thank you MTV, for making me into a less miserable desperate loser, … *Sob*.”

Sure, some of you may say, who cares.  They’re not putting anyone on tv that didn’t want to be there.  Sure, … on that same token, then I guess drug dealers are A-OK in your book too?

Too bad that shit is so funny that I HAVE to watch it.  HAHA.

It’s been a while since my last post.  Hope you fuckers didn’t miss me too much.  Heh.  Anyways, been extremely busy for the past few months, but I just wanted to quickly share with you all a few words of wisdom:

WORDS OF WISDOM FROM DOCTOREVIL1:

When you are picking out a gift for a chick, and that gift happens to be an article of clothing, always, ALWAYS, err on the side of caution and purchase the smaller size when debating what size to get her.

You’re always better off having her be depressed about being a fat shit, than having her be angry at you for thinking she’s a fat shit.

So a couple of days ago, I’m driving my sister to work in the morning.  Before we start driving, we go to dunkin donuts to grab some breakfast.  So I get a couple of donuts, while she gets herself a muffin.  So we’re munching away in the car, and all’s fine and well.

So we’re about a block away from her work, and so starts to get herself ready to get out of the car.  She hands me the dunkin donuts bag and says, … “Here, … there’s another donut in there that you didn’t eat yet, and I saved you a half a muffin.”

*Wow, … what a thoughtfully nice sister I have,* I thought to myself, as I was very grateful for her display of generosity.  That she enjoyed her muffin so much so, … that she thought her muffin was so deliciously gratifying, … that she would actually SAVE HALF her muffin to give to her dear beloved brother.  So share such simple joys of life!!

But to my horrific, ghastly, surprise, …. I look into the bag what do I find????  The BOTTOM HALF OF THE MUFFIN!!!  The evil wench ate the good part, … the top of the muffin, … and left me the scraps!  But that’s not what I was upset about.  It was the fact that she’d go as far as to try and say that the bottom part of the muffin was actually what she’d consider half!

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME??!!” I exclaimed.  “This ain’t half a muffin, … you ate the good part, and left me muffin leftovers!”

To which she had the audacity to say, as she unctuously grinned like a used car salesman, … “What do you mean??  The bottom part of the muffin is the best part!  It’s covered, … so it’s the protected part.” 

Flabberghasted, I was left speechless.  It’s not bad enough that she left the bottom part of the muffin.  She then proceeded to try and sell it!  Like she was doing me a friggin favor!!  That’s like leaving me the apple core and saying, “here, … I saved you the best part of the apple!  It’s the center!  The middle part is always the best because it’s the center of the entire fruit!” 

That’s some fucked up shit, I tell ya, … some fucked up shit.  Next time I get a coke, I’m going to drink everything, leaving only the ice and tell her that I saved her some soda.  That fucker.

Some of the more random things that have occurred in DoctorEvil1′s life as of late:

The other day, I dreamt that woke up from a lazy sunday morning, and started to get ready to go eat, only to realize that I was only dreaming about waking up, and was in fact still sleeping.  And so I woke up, to find my fiance awake too, and we started to talk about where we wanted to go eat.  But here’s the kicker.  After a while, I realized that I was STILL dreaming!!  It’s was like the matrix, inside the matrix!!!!  *cue music*  Dun dun dun~~~  Wait, … am I awake now??!!

***********************************

Last week, while I was walking down the street in Harlem, I found myself playing chicken with a real live chicken.  I kid you not.  I’m walking down the street and out of the corner of my eyes, I see a fucking chicken!  Now, I’m no chicken (HAHA, … get it??!!  Get it??!!), as I usually don’t get startled by things, but how surprisingly strange is it to encounter a chicken?  No, … not an overgrown pigeon, … and definitely not a particularly feathery squirrel.  It was definitely a chicken.

So I stopped for a second, only to find the chicken staring back at me.  And so, my initial reaction was to walk around in a big circle to avoid the KFC fugitive, … but that would entail me actually walking into the friggin street, just to avoid a freaken chicken!  Fuck that, … that’s just silly.  I’m so much bigger.  And maybe I was in a fowl mood (GET IT??!! GET IT??!!  FOWL MOOD??!!), … but I decided to confront the chicken.  I will not be intimidated by poultry!  And so I started walking straight ahead, only to have the chicken cower in my dominance and walk around me.  Heh.

Angry people crack me up.  The other day, I had a guy sooo angry at me, I seriously thought that he was going to take a shit right there in the middle of my store.  It was friggin hilarious.  I don’t want to get into why he was so angry, … since this xanga is supposed to somewhat anonymous (hey, … I try, whatever), and also because I’m feeling too lazy to go into detail, … but his reactions alone are enough to make for an entertaining story.  I kid you not though, … the guy was soooo mad, that he literally started shaking, yelling uncontrollably like a person with turrets syndrome, and just pacing around grabbing flyers on the table and putting it down.  I mean, the guy was really out of his mind!

I guess I really didn’t help the situation by laughing at his face and telling him that he was an idiot for being so mad.  But seeing him get so angry just made me want to taunt him more.  So I mentioned that he had some anger management issues, and that he needed some therapy.  He didn’t appreciate that very much at all, and so he decided to get back at me by …. *gasp* …. flicking off the lights!  As he yelled, … “I’m not threatening??!!  Huh??!!  Yeah??!!  I’m not threatening??!!”  Which made me actually point and laugh at his face. 

This isn’t to say that I don’t get angry, though.  I obviously do.  Hell, … what do you expect, I’m a Korean guy.  But it’s funny when the tables are turned and you see someone just THAT much over the top.  This one time, I remember, I was stuck in grid lock for such a long time, … I thought I was going to lose my mind!  I was honking at everyone, just yelling and cursing, when I see a delivery van go past me at an intersection just completely crazy.  It was literally one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.  The driver was this little latino guy and he was driving along and seemed to be pulling out his own hair because he was so frustrated, and yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs looking into his hands with that crazy look in his eyes.  I couldn’t hear what he was saying because his windows were up, … but my superior lip reading abilities allowed me to make out that he was yelling, …. “something something PUTA!!!”

After I saw that, … I was like, … “Damn, …. that guy is ANGRY.”  “sheesh, … it’s only traffic.” 

On a related note, … does anyone remember the little skit that they had on sesame street or was it the electric company?  Anyways, it’s a skit where there was this plumber and this parrot.  The plumber knocks on the door but no one’s home except a parrot.  The parrot hears the knock and asks, … “Whoooo is it?”  And the plumber, not knowing that it’s a parrot, and not a real person, says “It’s the plumber, … I’ve come to fix the sink.”

After a moment of silence, the plumber knocks again, to which the parrot answers again, … “Whoooo is it?”  To which the plumber answers again, “it’s the plumber.  I’ve come to fix the sink.”  This goes on for a few more times, with the plumber getting visibly more an more frustrated that no one is opening the door, until finally the plumber says one last time, … “it’s, …. the, … plumber.  I’ve, … come, … to, … fix, … the sink!!” And then just dies.  I don’t know, … that skit just popped into my head a few weeks back and for some reason, it’s just constantly been on my mind.  Strange.

Birthdays, smirthdays, … thanks for all of your birthday wishes.  It’s funny though.  I don’t really feel much older.  OK, … I lie.  I feel super old.  I’m tired, cranky, my joints crack, and I’m noticing that my nails are starting to get thicker and thicker.  Off on a tangent, … I almost feel like I have to put on a pair of saftey goggles to trim my nails because these little nail bits come flying off the damn clippers at tremendous speeds, … and almost seem like they can poke an eye out.  Very scary.  OK, … maybe I exaggerate a bit, … but they are DEFINITELY getting thicker. 

But back to being thirty.  Yes, … one score and ten years of my life has passed.  If you count dog years, that must be like 210(?) years?  If I were a caveman, I would have hit the retirement age.

OK, … I’m jsut rambling.  Don’t really have much to say.  And I forgot the point of this post.  I guess thats what happens with age.  But atleast I got carded for cigarettes the other day.

Hello Xanga!  It’s been a while since my last post.  I wish I can say that I haven’t been updating because my life has been so filled with many wonderful events.  But unfortunately, the only thing my life has been filled with is work.  I’ve been getting skinnier by the day, losing more and more hair, and I think I’m starting to get acid reflux.  (BTW, … what’s that valve on your esophogus that closes to keep the stomach acids from coming up?  Is that called the epiglodus (sp?))

Things are unusually slow for a change today, and so now that I have some time, I’m finding difficulty in trying to think of something to write.  It sucks when all you do is eat, sleep, and shit, work.  I swear, … I’m so stressed, I even dream about work.

But enough about me bitching about work.  I did see something interesting yesterday.  I witnessed a guy get run over by a taxicab.

It was scary and funny at the same time.  Yeah yeah, … now before you tree huggers start getting on my case about how sick and demented I am for being able to find humor in such a topic, let me explain.

So I’m driving in the city, sitting at a red light.   As the light turns green,  I see a tall, skinny, goofy looking guy come running across the street from my left trying to get across.  He sorta reminded me of Clay Aiken, except with glasses.  So naturally I don’t go on the green and let him pass.  As he’s running across my car, a taxicab comes racing up from my right and *SCREEEEECH*  *BAM!*

The guy goes flying about 4 feet backwards and lands on his ass.  Everyone stops.  The cab, the guy, the people on the street, … me.  I’m sitting there with my mouth open in disbelief, thinking to myself, … holy shit, … I’ve just witnessed a man getting run over by a car!

But before I even have a chance to gather my thoughts, … the guy just *pops* back up again, …. does the little crouch over while sticking out his hand, almost like a gaining composure sort of a gesture, …  and then hurriedly says, “I’m ok” and continues to run across the street. 

And that’s the funny part.  It’s the way he just *popped* back up.  Like his cat-like reflexes just kicked back in again.  Am I mean?  Whatever.

But then I thought to myself, … what the fuck??  This guy can’t smell money even if it ran over him!  HAHA!  Get it??!!  Get it??!!  It ran over him!  Get it??!!

Oh btw, … help a brother out.  Sign this petition please.  As Starsky would say, ….

Do it!  Do it!  DO IT!!

It’s funny how chicks change as time passes in a relationship.  When me and my fiance first going out, … I remember thinking that she farted much less than the average human being.  There I’d be just playing the ass trumpet without any reservation, while I never even heard a peep of fart from her.  I remember pointing that out, assuring her that she doesn’t have to hold it in, that I don’t care if she farts, etc.  But she assured me that she normally doesn’t have a lot of gas, and the only times that she does need to is in the bathroom or something.  Fine, … whatever.

But these days, … we’ll be hanging out, or even while we’re cuddling, she’ll lean over to me and say “Safety~” and start laughing.  How lovely. 

And yes, … I still play the saftey/doorknob game sometimes.