Enough is enough.

I should really just devote this blog to my encounters with rodents. Seriously, I feel like every week I'm posting something about some disgusting mouse or rat doing something beyond my comprehension.

Every morning I drink a cup of tea. Mostly to wake up, but also because I hear green tea is good for you. I obviously haven't seen any of the benefits (see my previous post about my eczema) but since I don't go to church I need to have faith in something. Plus I like the ritual. For a guy like me that does a lot of sitting around and complaining, I need something to keep me grounded. 

Why me?

So what does this mean? A big log of shit in my tea cup. Can't I have just one thing in this world? Who am I hurting by drinking a cup of tea in the morning? I noticed this piece of shit about 10 minutes ago (it's 11:20pm) and so now I'm wondering if I drank my morning tea with a piece of shit in it or if some mouse has brought psychological warfare to this ongoing confrontation. I would like to think that my slanty eyes would have picked up on it this morning but when you're as bitter as I am, the only thing you see in the morning is red. 

Just how and when did this little shit do this?

"_______ isn't really my cup of tea. Because I don't like big logs of shit in my tea." It's an overused but still funny joke. And that joke that you're laughing at, just so happens to be my life. Sigh.

Marty Answers His Fans (Critics)

In response to my Gauges post, Eva shares some of her thoughts.

Eva said...

You must really hate your dad for not going out his way in teaching you; to treat people with respect for their individuality and culture and lifestyle. Your dad raise you nice and right to be a giant asshole. Oh no, does that mean as an asshole someone might rape you as well?

Hello Eva! Thanks for reading Play Pretty! 

First off. I don't really hate my dad at all. I mean except for the obvious reasons: I'm short because of him, I'm part Filipino because of him (you know what that means), he's also a constant reminder of what I'll look like when I'm bald. So you see, most of these things are genetic and it'd be ridiculous of me to be mad at him because of SCIENCE. I ain't mad at him.

I also think my dad did a pretty good job at teaching me to be respectful to other people. I mean to be honest I don't really care about most people's "individuality" because I know one way or another, any lifestyle choices that promote one's "individuality" are justified to that specific Individual. That's fine. That's cool that you like wearing Ed Hardy t-shirts or dressing up in drag or clapping along to a Billy Joel concert (I see you white people). Please, keep on doing it. That's your choice and I respect the fact that you have a choice. I just don't like the choice you made and I'm going to make fun of you for it. 

Am I really a giant asshole? What if I'm just promoting my individuality (a bitter, lonely, cynical, jaded, upset-stomached Marty) by poking fun at things that I personally find funny? 

Or.

Are you really concerned that I'm actually a Giant Asshole? Like a villain in a weird horror movie. Blowing farts on people and suffocating little kids by falling on top of them.

Wait.

Are you concerned that since I'm a giant asshole I might get raped because you know of a serial asshole raper? Is there someone out there that only rapes assholes? I must say, that's a really specific target. If you're going to rape, why be so specific? (Please don't rape.) Do you get a lesser prison sentence if you get caught only raping assholes. Judge: "I sentence you to 25 years, but believe me, if you would have touched a vagina, mouth, or tree, you would be looking at a 30 year sentence MISTER!" And wouldn't that be ironic? Putting a guy (girl?) who only likes raping assholes in PRISON. That's like giving a hillbilly free Nascar tickets and telling him not to have fun. 

How about this. I'll yell at my dad for not making me happier (not really his fault) if you yell at your dad for not passing on a sense of humor. Just please, don't add to your gauges. After a certain point you have to stop blaming him and starting living life.

Either way. Thanks for your concern and thanks for reading.

Eva you are right. I can kinda see it. I do see a bit of an asshole.

- Marty

Pretty Ugly.

A few months ago when it started to get warm out I was ecstatic with the shape I was in. I was probably the lightest I've been since the beginning of college but way healthier. I was in awesome running shape and thought I'd be able to log some serious miles throughout the summer. Of course, all that good news had to come to an end. I got injured. 

After a couple months of sitting around and feeling sorry for myself I joined a gym and decided I'd try to keep the pounds off by lifting weights. I couldn't get into it. So as I waited for my knee to heal I sat back and watched my eczema get worse and my stomach grow.

As my skin got worse and worse, I completely gave up on staying in shape. My mind was only on one thing: Scratch where it itches. And it itched everywhere. 

On my hands.

On my feet.

On my arms.

On my neck.

On my face.

On the back of my legs.

After a few days of oral steroids and a steroid ointment my skin was unbelievably beautiful. I'm serious. It was the most beautiful it's ever been on my whole life. Not only did I start eating healthier because of it, I started focusing more on my running. I started to read about minimal running shoes and how they might benefit someone who has knee issues. I was ecstatic to get back out there with my new pair of New Balance Minimus Road shoes. And after the first few runs even though I was unable to walk because of how sore my calves were, I was riding (running?) high. I felt as good as ever.

That was until my skin went back to being totally lame just 3 days after I was taken off the oral steroid. Afraid to use the steroid ointment, because of it's side effects (thins skin, creates permanent stretch marks), I invested in vitamins and Doritos. I was depressed again and not in the mood to fight. Especially since I was back to sitting around feeling sorry for myself and looking at this everyday...

Rub it for good luck.

I think I gained 10-15 pounds in a month. Not kidding. Not playing pretty at all.

Currently, my skin is a bit better but still sucks. I'm back to running and hoping that an all around healthier lifestyle will help me recover. I went for an 8 mile (shout out to Eminem) run a few days ago and came home with this. So now I have something completely new to be depressed about and disgusted with.

I'm not talking about my foot. I'm talking about this...

He had slicked back hair like Michael Douglas. Even this guy couldn't take living in this apartment anymore.

It's a photo shoot.

Warp Magazine.

If you know anything about me, you know I like spending every single dime I have (and don't have) on clothes. It's pathetic. I know. But look where it has gotten me!

I think the title says: "These losers need to do something besides touch boners and play Dress Up. " I refuse.

As you can see I'm #2. Even though the numbers are completely arbitrary, I'm still happy I'm better than the 30 people who were shot for this feature. And I'm also happy that I lost to a black guy. They are the best!

The main focus was supposed to be on bags. Since the bag I own is a complete piece of shit, I borrowed one from the store I work at. You know what else I borrowed? Pretty much everything I'm wearing besides the pants and socks (and eczema). If you think the look is weird and stupid, that's fine. With a bit of help from my friend Levan, we picked out some clothes that are very much me and very much different. That White Mountaineering blazer is my favorite piece in our entire store. If only I had $1000 to buy it.

Yes, my eyes are actually open.

On the day of the shoot my eczema was out of control. I'm glad they didn't use any of the closeups they got of me. They took one of my watch and the cuff details and behind it there was a freshly scratched patch of eczema that was bleeding. YUMMY!!!!! I have to thank the team of Japanese dudes who probably spent hours photoshopping all of the bleeding scabs and peeling skin out. Job well done.

So now a bunch of Japanese people have seen me. Cool. I made it. As the great Gucci Mane says...

When' i'm with my broad
It's a photo shoot
When i hit the mall(mall, mall)
It's a photo shoot
When i'm in da club
It's a photo shoot
Gone get yo camera phone on
It's a photo shoot (yeahhhh...)
It's a photo shoot (girl!)
It's a photo shoot (girl)
It's a photo shoot (girl)
It's a photo shoot (girl)
When i'm wit yo girl every
time it's a photo shoot
Gone get yo camera phone on
it's a photo shoot

And again, if you think the look is stupid and weird, awesome. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Occupying Wall Street but doing little else.

Yesterday, while on my break at work, I heard loud cheers and chants quickly approaching so I immediately gathered my things and began to head back to the store. I didn't know where it was coming from but screaming people in mass numbers was not something I wanted to be in the middle of during my quiet time. A crowd of people (hundreds? estimating isn't one of my super powers) about a block away were cheering and chanting and making their way towards me. It became apparent that this was the Occupy Wall Street thing that I had read about, watched on television, and had been invited to.

When I first heard about Occupy Wall Street I completely disregarded it. I knew what to expect. Crust punks, hippies (same thing?), and a bunch of losers trying (and probably succeeding) to get laid. And when images started making their way on the news, I had discovered I was right on the money (not that these people have any, but I'm sure their daddies do). Not only did I know what these people looked like, I knew that they really didn't have any idea what they were doing. That became apparent when they tried to make their cause more of an Us. vs The Police sort of thing because some stupid ass police officer thought it would be a good idea to mace an innocent woman. That's why it's ludicrous (at least for now and probably forever) to compare this "protest" to the Arab Spring. I don't remember reading about an outrage because one bystander got sprayed in the eyes with something (that wasn't a bullet). No. Those were revolutions with people FIGHTING for their cause. And that's also a key difference between this circus going on around Wall Street and the Arab Spring: Occupy Wall Street doesn't have a cause. Unless that cause is sitting around playing Alanis Morissette on your kazoo. Because if that's the case. You win. Go home. Take a fucking shower. And forgive your dad.

After hours of talking shit and sighing, Josh and I decided to stop by Zuccotti Park to see if anything serious was going on. We got off the train at Broadway and Wall Street and started to walk. Like an asshole and an idiot, I figured that there would be hundreds of people in the Financial District walking around screaming their beliefs (and part of me hoped I would see at least one businessman lit on fire). Instead we ran into a bunch of Chinese people taking picture of that famous bull. After walking past the New York Stock Exchange and up and down Wall Street we took a few turns to figure out what was going on. Where the hell was this protest taking place if it wasn't all throughout the streets? We continued walking until we came up to what looked like a park and a large group of people. We finally found it. As we got closer I started to realize that the people didn't look anything like I had guessed they would. They looked happy, they looked curious, they looked well-rested, they looked kinda old, and, yes, they looked like tourists. They were tourists. And that large group of people was in a line to see the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island.

As I became more and more anxious and angry that this so-called protest was nowhere to be found I asked a street vendor if he could help us out.

"Where is the big protest that's supposed to be going on?"
"What protest?"
"Occupy Wall Street. A bunch of people who hate their fathers and who never desired to have a job in the first place have gotten together and decided to blame the corporations for their problems. Where is it?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."

There was our answer.

When we finally found Zuccotti Park (it was a block away from train we got off at) and the gathering of protestors, it was exactly what I had expected. A few people dancing. Some white guy playing the guitar. And a whole bunch of stank. As Josh and I walked through the mess I couldn't help but think, "These are the people who are effected by the economy? These are the people we should be fighting for? That can't be right." Then it all made sense. These people are mad because the people they usually mooch off of are out of jobs. SO IT DOES EFFECT THEM! The compassionate people who actually feel sorry for these idiots aren't the wealthy businessmen who don't give a dime to anyone, they're the middle class who know what it's like to struggle.

I'm being unfair. I know.

I know the media has portrayed this whole thing out to be a bunch of hippies dancing and singing. I know that there are a good amount of good and decent people out there protesting. People who are actually struggling, who actually want a job but can't seem to find one because it was shipped overseas or simply cutout. When we continued walking we saw union workers protesting and that brought a smile to my face. These are the people who we should be fighting for. The ones that actually contribute. We should be just as pissed off at the dreaded, stinky do-nothings as we are at the greedy corporate businessmen. Because in the end aren't they both greedy, worthless, and taking up precious space?

I think the reason I'm so mad is because all of these assholes are occupying ACTUAL homeless people's sleeping spaces. If I was homeless I would definitely float around this area all night trying to teach the wannabe homeless women how to get STANKY!

Yesterday, as I watched the mass of people pass my job, I felt a small sense of pride. There were people of all colors (Go Team Yellow!), ages, and styles marching and making a bunch of noise for a better society. For all the assholes that were crusting up the crowd, there were more decent people, screaming passionately about what they believe in. So as a few women with smiles on their faces tried to convince me to join them, I gave them the thumbs up and smiled. "I have to get back to work."

If we're going to punish worthless people, we shouldn't stop at businessmen. We should punish all of them. I'm hopeful Occupy Wall Street turns into something huge. I wish it would turn into a revolution of both thought and action. But I'm skeptical. If we're going to sit around and let a bunch of dirty bearded idiots represent us (the unemployed, the underemployed, and the rest of the contributors to society) then I can't see any of this amounting to any significant change. How are we going to fight billionaires if we can't even fight guys who haven't cut their toenails in a year? It's time to stop Occupying and time to start Fighting.

Let's crack some skulls.

And for you pieces of shit that haven't had a job and have had no desire to have a job, stop complaining about the CEOs that have stolen your freedom. We all know that you're only mad because they're your fathers and they made you play catch one too many times growing up. Keep it up. If you don't shut your useless faces I'm going to start cracking these CEOs' skulls for a whole new reason. For not sending you bitches to your room. We all know that's where you belong.

1 year in NYC.

I got one year under my belt so I guess I'm halfway there. Just kidding, I hope I'm in this piece of shit city for longer than 2 years but who knows, maybe something great will happen. Just kidding. We all know great things don't happen to people like me. People like me = Complaining Dickfaces.

Couple of my best buds in town visiting me.

A lot has happened this year. I've spent a bunch of money on living (but more on clothes). I've tricked a pretty cool girl with a big butt into thinking I'm a cool guy. I've had a piece of shit job that I hated which was run by a buncha greedy sonsabitches. I have a job that I really enjoy run by people who are genuinely kind and good and intelligent. I've seen a Rat Tail. I've gotten robbed. I've been visited by a number of people including my dad (who has never been to New York). I've made a ton of new "friends." I've fallen in love with about a million women (and maybe a couple of dudes) who I've never talked to. I've seen black dudes dressed in a full Samurai suit. I see at least one woman crying a day (that's not an exaggeration, there are some sad bitches in this town). I've lived through a Hurricane. I've had a Missed Connection (I swear I didn't write it). I've seen and spoken to a bunch of celebrities (I miss you St. Vincent, I really do). I've been made fun of because of my accent. I've made fun of New York accents. I've made of New York and New Yorkers. Actually that's pretty much all I've done. So is it a wasted year? Of course not. It's why I moved here.

More of my best buds visiting me. Love the shirts guys!

One year in New York City and all of this. I'd say it's been a pretty good year.

Fuck. I just remembered. I now look like this.

Sup ladies?

Big Teef Swag.

That may look like a cupcake on her cheek. But that's how many cupcake lookin' mugzzzzz Ariel has capped. Ya dig?

Where have I been? Me and Ariel have been talking about our next moves, where we're gonna take this swag. Most importantly where we're going to take our BIG TEEF SWAGG!!!! All ya'll bitches wish you knew a thing about BTS!