Erastic Fantastic

So since erryone has randomly had the love of kpop implanted into their souls currently, I would like to do a little rant n' rave (oh yes, what a cheesecakey name) about k pop in general. K pop....is bad. Really, really, terrible. But for some reason, the catchy one syllable choruses and bad Engrish is captivating and fuses some kind of thing in the mind which forces the brain to love it. COUGH me. And for the people who legitimately think it's actually good.......kind of have problems. But I think that's only 2% of us all.
Kpop is really fun and awesome and irritating and makes more sense than J pop, but what irks me about it is all the plastic surgery and segregation and lack of talent.
'Cause honestly, if our darling Rebeckerz Black was signed into K pop, everyone would magically love her. And the plastic surgery....it frustrates me how people wish they looked like some particular idol in the industry and how they want to obtain their sexiness, handsomeness, etc. when they themselves most likely looked better than the idol before the idol got plastic surgery. I mean, if I got plastic surgery, I'd be INSANELY hot. And I'm not even hot at all. 75% of all them kpop stars were kind of butterfaces back in the day. No offense. Since not too many of k pop artists can sing in real life, it kind of promotes that a) if you're hot and can dance decently, you can make big bucks! or b) sign this long ass contract and sell your soul to us after we make you a star we'll take care of your shitty singing and ugliness!
And segregation....I don't even know. I guess having a group of sexy ladies or fruity but hot men add more to the fanbase and make the entertainment company richer.
K pop is good cause bands (girl ones in general) can pull off slutty looks and don't look slutty at all. I don't even know if that counts as a good thing. But the keep the mens making white wee. They also have some kind of thing behind their music that white people simply can't do. And since it's in a different language, people don't know what it means so even if the song is about humping ladies and getting wasted, people think it's bowl cuttedly cute and innocent.

So I guess this is my take on K pop. It's good........just not all the time. Cause then you'll be completely brainwashed, and it might be worse than listening to mainstream stuff in America. Hopefully I don't sound like a hypocrite cause erryday I'm like OH YES I'MMA PELVIC THRUST TO KPOP but hey, I haven't discovered any oldies music and I'm really bored and need to pelvic thrust my worries away. Un tsss un tss un tss. I think this little R&R ( oh yeah I called it that) has made my love of Kpop grow. Time to review more k pop. And listen to it.
...someone please introduce me to better white person music. Please. Before I have a kpop jizz attack.
Okay bye. Have y'all noticed my posts have gotten lamer with time? I know :(

Thinking Ahead, That's What Asian Parents Are For

It's been a while. I know. Unlike a web star or super blog personality, I'm not going to say "Errone's been nagging me to post, and I said, may-bayy, may-bay not, that's the funnnnn!" BUT....My parents HAVE been nagging me about college, BUT a pro in that is that I've been searching up good colleges that I'd consider going to in 3 years. If this year passed by super quickly, the 3 left will too. And I better hold on tight....to my penor, that is. It might get lost in time. Or make nice with a black hole when it gets lost in time. But, here are the choices I have conjured up or have considered for a while.

1. UCSD (Close to home.....though that may not be the BEST idea..haha)
2. UCLA (The school erryone wants to go to. I love the area it's in but damn. LA is a huge ghetto.)
3. UCSF (San Francisco is such a bitchin' city. From the 4 times I've been there....it's amazing. UCSF also is a medical school which is something my parents encourage and I also am kind of interested in health science. And if I want to pursue my music, I can do that for fun. It won't be hard getting my hands (oh babababy) on great music. )
4. UWash. (Is in Seattle. Another awesome city. UWash has a really pretty campus and has such a wide variety of classes to take. Plus it's close to Canada, aka HEAVEN. Except not really. But pretty close.)
5. UCIrvine. (Close to home, full of Asians...though Irvine is sort of a boring place.)
6. UVic....(Mmm in Canada. In Victoria. FILLED WITH BUNNIES. )
My mom says I may not go to "out of the country" schools unless I get a scholarship.

I also have no idea what I'm going to do when I grow up. Oh well. I think.
But I realllllly want to go to UCSF.
Like I said......it's been a while.

Something more.....Melancholy.

My face at the mo.

Usually my posts are about random shit. This one is about shit, but it's not random and fun filled. Don't even bother to read it, but I'm just letting out steam. A lot of steam. Maybe you do want to read it to understand all of these random pictures. Yes, I'm keeping this rant in my regular random ass picture format. Well, here goes everything. My parents have been pressuring me about college since....seventh grade. It's gotten worse, and I'm only in 9th grade. Everything I do REVOLVES around college. Piano....for college....all my AP classes and crap...college. Duh. And now, band is revolving around college. My mom says I can stay in band for all 4 years...well, three years sort of for now......if I play on clarinet. And the B thing won't be applied anymore. I personally hate clarinet with a passion, no offense. Band is something I do for fun. It's like a sport, though it's not very physically challenging..well, sometimes it is during marching season, heh. If I switch to clarinet, I'm kind of just going to dread band. I don't know if this argument is valid but let's say two people had the same amount of community service, grades including AP classes, and one of them played clarinet (but could play bass clarinet......duh, all clarinetists can..) and one could play clarinet but mainly focused on bass clarinet. I don't know......in my opinion I would pick the more unique person...someone who can play clarinet pretty well but really has a passion for bass. When I told my mom that, she snickered irritatingly and was like YOU'RE WROOOOOOOOONGGGGGGGGGG! Then she mocked my passion quote many times and now I feel like backhanding a baby. I love playing bass clarinet. It's not the same as a clarinet player who conveniently knows how to play bass clarinet. I'm pretty sure Mr. Hollyday told me that before. It's unique. I wish I could actually do what I really wanted, though that's completely bull shit. I can't do everything that I want. Well of fucking course! I don't want to go to school, and I have to do that ;P Ugh. If I switched to clarinet, I doubt Webb would let me go back to clarinet...and how would I even switch off? I think I could compromise playing bass for marching season and switching every now and then for concert band but of course Webb wouldn't let me do that. It's all or nothing. I also don't understand why my parents won't just let me practice clarinet regularly at home. Colleges won't care, they'll know that you're adept at clarinet-ing and bass clarinet-ing, and I guess they'd find it cool that you really like bass clarinet more than clarinet? I'd do that if I was a hip rad college admission person.
That's the end of my rant, I guess.
Today we had an asian fest. I entertained a 5 year old with barbies and everything I put on the barbie the kid was like "it tis not boohtefull" and I got so irritated I wanted to yell "YOU'RE NOT BOOTEFUHL!!" but she was really cute. I also fell asleep multiple times and ate way too many strawberries. That party was 6 fuckin' hours!!!!! I ate pretty well, though. Snowy humped the legs of all the foxy Asian professors and they thought it was hilarious and cute and took many pictures. All I could do was stand in the corner and snicker. Then I played on our Wii, which I haven't played in in a while. I made myself short, fat, and yellow and gave myself a mole in the middle of my forehead and gave myself a pedo smile. I renamed myself Pedonat. After that I read more of animal farm on my mom's bed and promptly fell asleep. That's all.
Now I'm groggy, irritated, and sort of hungry (I haven't eaten since 2 PM)
Please send me an entertaining viral video so I can look like this.

How to Make Love While Conscious

Despite my misleading title, I would like to do a little rant about women. Ah, how the opposite gender confuses me. Just kidding. I'm pretty sure I'm a girl. I hope. Well, here goes everything.
1. Girls DO fart and poop. Men, I'm sure you have been convinced by the stupid myth that girls do not fart...or POOP. No matter how dainty, sexy, or slutty we are, we do fart. Though we hide it more slyly than the males do, yes, we do not fart in people's faces, we still have had terrible acts of flatulence. AND DON'T GET ME STARTED on pooping! Like Taro Gomi has stated in this lovely picture book that I have NEVER gotten for my birthday, though I have requested it on my wishlist about 23479 times, erryone makes duh poopoo. All girls have had diarrhea or constipation. Well, everyone except me...I have no anus. Ahee!
2. Girls are not ALWAYS won over by flowers and all that crap. I mean seriously, if the two people love each other, who would really give a damn about flowers/chocolates/vibrators (ohh yeaah). The thing about couples in the modern days is that even if two people are together (not pre relationship stage), they shallowly expect expensive(at times), mushy (ohh yes) crap delivered to them to make them happy. I guess it's really not love or anything because if they really did love each other, they wouldn't even care about material stuff and would be ecstatic just breathing the same air as the other person. You don't need to be fancy. You sort of just need to be yourself, instead of some poser casanova swoon tastic chunky hunky dreamsicle. Don't take out your money. It's insulting. This is really the main thing I wanted to talk about. It's been bugging me for a while. But I'll continue.
3. Women do not make love with their _____. Most cases of the blank space are usually prized posessions, like goulash, shoes, wonder bras, blah blah blah. They treat them like you do with your porno collection and fetish magazines.
4. Women are kinder, gentler, quieter, and more romantic than men. ERR ERR ERR ERR ERR. One of these counterexamples is me! I am definitely not as kind, gentle, or quiet than the average male. On the other hand, I'm quite romantic. No one can resist my charms as I lure them in with my banana/cucumber eating and masticating of assorted nuts. Aww yeah. I just had an erection the size of a blimp. There are many women that are brutal and love kicking the testicles of men. One example of these women is Ellen. Don't worry, I'm not insulting her. She takes this as a compliment.
5. Women have hearts. FUCK NO! Look at this nifty little diagram that represents a woman's heart. Well, at least this is what my heart looks like. Black, dark, never ending....

Though all of my answers are quite brief except 2 (Yeah that was kind of the main point of my post anyways :P) I would like to thank you for viewing this lovely FAQ with Dr. Natarhee, the voluptuous, less bald counterpart of Dr. Phil.
The end.

Milky Moobies.

When I hear the word: sexcrazedoldcreepymofos, I automatically think of.....Ni-just kidding. I think of the BEACH BOYS. Sure, they may be legend...ary in the world of rock and roll but are you kidding me! They were overgrown Justin Biebery middle aged men that sang about cars, women, the beach, and women. Sure, I do have a wave of nostalgia flood over me as I listen to their Endless Summer CD but WHEN DO I DO THAT?! NEVERRR! You see, the Beatles sang about the same things....pretty much.....like women and drivin' cars and all that jazz, but they got more creative and sang about LSD infused walruses, digging ponies, and strawberry fields...forever. Also, no one knows the names of the members! John, Paul, George, and Ringo can distinctly stick out in a person's mind. Here's a little song I wrote that is in the essence of a beach boys songLook at those Hawaiian shirt donning hunks! Ahhh yeah.

*cough* AND IT BEGINS!
"Today I saw a sultry girl!
Her hair was in....curls?
I saw her at the beach in a bikini
I'm pretty sure she had a wieeeenie
WAAOOOOooooh WA WA OOOO
Trannies at the beach in the sand
Oh whoa when I see them THERE GOES MY SWEAT GUH-LAAAND!
Waa oooohhhh wa wa Oooooh "
I could go on. But I won't.
That's my rant on the Beachie Beach Boys.
Now I must change topics to Adele. This woman is totally rad. She has ginger biscuit hair and her CD is perfect for all women that have gone through a bad breakup. I wish she could stand at the foot of my bed and sing me to sleep. She has more class than Amy Winehouse. Since we're talking about singing, I shall discuss my chops. I am not a very skilled singer. I can sing......boy choir repetoire and I can sound decent if I sing a little below a whisper. If I sing above that, I sound positively terrible. I'm on key....but I suck. The only talent I really have that involves vocals is that I'm pretty good at singing foreign ranguage songs. I can master pronunciations for my K pop songs. Oohhhhhhh yeah.This was me in sixth grade.

Now I'm going to switch gears to Christopher Walken and William Shatner. These two men need a duet together. I saw this video of Christopher Walken and he was reading Poker Face.....I loved his interpretation of her Ohhh Wuh Ohh oh oh part. It sounded like a bored orgasm. And William Shatner....what a hunk!!!!!! WHO WOULDN'T WANT A DUET WITH THIS CANADIAN HUNK! Oh god and what if George Takei joined in for a trio......not for sex, fucking sicko.
Well, that was short. Since I'm running low on ideas...I'm going to talk about my elementary school teachers and I will give them accurate descriptions and I will try to guess about their personal lives.
Kindergarten: Shawni Henderson. She was pretty nice and inneresting. I think that she could be on Real Housewives of.....you pick. She seemed very mommyish and botoxy.
First Grade: Holmberg......FLARHGHHH what a megabitch. I'm pretty sure she was a stripper in her previous years of life. I think she possibly had a relationship with a Hugh Hefner imposter and then she found out he was a fake so she decided to impose her communistic ideas on innocent little first graders. Yup.
2nd grade: Ray O'Malley: An awesome partially bald middle aged man who could probably be an actor. I'm pretty sure he could've been in Dr. Who. He enjoyed writing science songs related to Simon and Garfunkel songs and every week he would come in dressed as a distant cousin of his...Mr O'my. Or O'MAI! or....I don't know.
3rd grade: Dave Parker. THE BEST FUCKING TEACHER THAT EVER LIVED. He constantly let us throw softballs at the speakers, let us watch game shows, and made up awesome raps about multiplication. He made multiplication seem badass and that has been my favorite math related thing ever. He also puts on great plays about dental health and is great at casting.....oh Lucas as a bailiff. Or whatever. We also pranked other classrooms and piled their chairs in front of the doors. What a megapimp with his khaki shorts, running shoes, fancy ties, and curly mullet. I'm pretty sure Mr. Parker was Jesus. Yup.
4th Grade: Dennis Servetter. He was a strict yet badass Jew with an earring and paragliding skills. I didn't exactly enjoy him but I did enjoy his knowledge on making them tater latkes. I'm guessing that in the old country, he was aquaintances with Adam Sandler and they went to the local synagogue together and had a conjoined barmitzvah.
5th grade: Last but HOHOHO definitely not least is the marvelous John Goodwin. He was a nice ol' white man with a tiny wrist and ankle and did a bunch of limping. He gave us an emotional talk about his disease. We all cried like babies. He also traveled in safaris and he looked like a raunchy young man from Toto. He was a great drawer of conquistadors and cityscapes. He also enjoyed making us recite poems. He is probably the most cultured man I have ever met. I'm pretty sure that he has traveled the world like Phileas Fogg and fought native american warriors with his bare hands. I'm also pretty sure he has had an assortment/army of wives, since he had a long flowing beard and wheaty hair.I think he was a bit more attractive then all of them. Oh well.

IT'S OVER!

RAAAAAAGH

Easter..a day where white people decorate eggs, go to church, explode peeps and stuff. Unfortunately, growing up in an atheist-ish Chinese family, I only got to sort of experience it until I was about 8. I remember when I lived near Adobe Bluffs my neighbor was this SAINTLY white lady and she used to shower me with gifts...that was when I experienced my first easter!! I just remember I had a sugar rush. Now I do nothing really. Well this was really pointless. Ummm......what else should I talk about.Ahee..touchin the ickle lad with his "carrot"

Oh yes! Toilet stories. I would like to say that.....
1) Whenever I take a dump or pee, I have to recite the ABC's. Sometimes in my head. Sometimes out loud. Most likely when I'm constipated. I hope that doesn't creep the crap out of y'all......Haha, crap creeping out of your butt. Haha. Hehe. Hoho.
2) Who hasn't stuck their hand into the toilet?! Don't lie. I mean, not when there's lumps of shit floating around but who didn't play with toilet water when they were 1-5......sort of sad...but true.
3) I HAVE fallen into the toilet. I sort of looked like this kid. I can't now, because my butt is too big.
4) Have you ever opened the top part of the toilet and played with that floaty/douche/black whatever floaty ball? That was redundant, and I'm pretty sure I just made it sound like some sort of sex toy. It's not. I hope.
5) I have flushed many things down the toilet.....beef stew, a smiley face keychain....you name it. Except my pet fish and such......they needed a proper burial.

The only problem I have with a toilet is that ever since I got my sex change, I'm really used to sitting down.....and as a brawny male, I find it hard to go peepee sitting down, my penis gets super squished. I haven't really developed my aiming skills, so errytime I go I miss and have to clean the floor OR I end up peeing on the ceiling. See, it's better sitting down and taking the risk of getting a spontaneous boner and getting squished nuts instead of cleaning my own urine! Buggady buggady buggady!


Whelp, I'm gonna go to an Asian easter uh......brunch. We're prolly going to eat dumplings and all that jazz. Time to put on some pants over my polka dot boy shorts (preferably my weekend mom jean/trousers) put on the hobo jacket I used to wear in middle school, and get cracking. Well that sounded oddly sexual.

The Opera.

OH YEAH. Greer Grimsley has the best evil laugh ever.
Ailyn Perez and Stephen Costello....as Romeo and Juliet. What a steamy young couple.


I may have informed you all that I attended the Opera about....2 weeks ago and tonight. I thought it would kind of suck.......the hall smelling of old ladies and faux fur, butt aches, and boring actors and such.. That facade was not true. The worst thing really was all the annoying coughing and hacking going on. I wanted to ask the elderly gentleman next to me "Are you laying eggs, sir?", but that would not have been the inapropropropropro. Today I watched the opera Faust. Since I REALLY don't want to give a longass synopsis, I shall tell a modern version of it!!
Old ugly smart guy wants to get laid. But he can't get laid. He's old. And ugly. He makes a pact with the devil (GASP) and sells his soul to him to get one wish. He wishes to be hot and young and Brad Pitt-esque. A few days later in the........epicenter of the....uh..city? There is a beerfest of drunken soldiers going to war. Iraq, that is. Just kidding. It didn't take place in Iraq. But I'M MAKING IT MODERN. One of the soldiers has this long spiel about protecting his little sister and it gave me the thought that he wanted to sleep with her and was super territorial. But.....he wasn't. Well, for now. He makes this pre pubescent Justin Biebery youth protect her and he is smitten with her sekahseeness. And I can see why....boobies, of course! Then the dude and devil walk in and the guy is like "Heyyyyyy there tuts! Would you like to 'take my arm?'' He is....rejected. Then there was the intermission! My butt was perfectly fine! I did not get up.
The intermission is done. Yay! Scene 2: There's a garden and the sexy lady's front porch. The JBiebery youth prances around and picks a nubby bouquet of flowers from her OWN damn garden to give to her. Wow. Then he squeals with delight and runs off into the horizon and is like " I MUST PROCLAIM ME LOVE TO HERRR!" then Faust.....we'll call him Fabio.....to make him seem more hunky and "modern" comes in with the devil and sings for 20 minutes about her sexiness. He, being a love-starved sexless greenhorn picks flowers from her OWN garden as well. What the hayull. Then shazaaam! The devil pops out of the well and gives Fabio a box of jewels to leave at her doorstep. She finds them the next day and dies of happiness because well, duh! All girls like shiny things! Fabio seduces her some more. The Devil, in his charming Antonio Banderas form has sex in a bush with some husbandless MILF that is the girl's neighbor. Fabio and his lady lover duet and make out multiple times. Hoho. Then they finally stop sucking face, and Fabio lets his lady lover go to sleep. Then, she sings some more on her balcony and how her vagina is tingling with delight. Just kidding! Then she goes outside in a sheer nightgown (oh bababababy) and Fabio is STILL there, being a lurker. Fabio runs into her house and they probably had wild sex, though they cut it out. But we can most definitely assume that, hohohohoho.
Second intermission! We move down from the awesome balcony to the first floor. Worst idea ever, Dad.
A year later after raucous love making and tired private parts, Fabio suddenly disappears and leaves his lady love, Marguerite. Why? The devil likes to mess around with people and make them seem like niggabitch playboys. Oh, and I will call her Marge. Why? I don't know. She is PREGGO! This is like Juno, sort of, but with more wraths and whatnot. She is weaving at a loom and people snicker at her preggoness. She sig and pines for Fabio, but honey, he ain't coming back. Until laaaater. JBiebs makes another appearance to seduce Marge but she rejects him some more. After that, the soldiers come home! Marge's brother is like "WHAT THE HAYULLL GIRL WHY YOU PREGGERS?" and reveals her stomach to the world. Then Fabio comes along with the devil and Fabio and her brother sword fight. Marge's brother loses. Who knew a dying man could sing so amazingly. He tells Marge basically that..she sucks, is a ho, it's her fault for his death, and that she's soooo damned. Like, totally. Then they change scenes to a church. Marge prays for Fabio and her baby but then the red backlight goes on and Antonio Banderas....I mean, the devil says that she's damned, blah blah blah. He appears in random places and tells her that multiple times. She wails/orgasms.
LAST SCENE: Marge is in jail. Why? She killed her baby. I'm not surprised. The devil, attempting to be nice ish tries to get Fabio to sneak her out. She orgasms at his face and they make out multiple times. Then, Fabio and Marge get into a disagreement. Fabio wants to leave. Marge wants to "stay awhile"......probably to have noisy sex. Then, Fabio's hand spontaneously starts bleeding and Marge is like "EWWWWWWWWW". Then, Anto-I mean the Devil spits fire and drags Fabio to hell. He tries to fight back, but hey, when you've sold your soul to the devil.....you've sold it, biatch! Heavenly light shines on these huge stairs in front of Marge and voices going REBIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRTHHHHHHHHH sing and she walks slowly onto the stairs into this vortex of light.
THE END.
I guess that really wasn't that short......but wasn't that riveting?
I made it sound really stupid.....but it was pretty awesome.
I'm sorry for butchering your Opera, San Diego.

PS: I figured out Faust and Marguerite were actually MARRIED in real life. I swear, all of the plays that feature one of them, the other has to be the love interest in the play. Actually, that's kind of cute. I think all that making out in the opera is going to lead to many, many babies due to sex in the bathroom at the after show reception. Well, many, many babies with great singing chops.

I'm going to bed.