this year i will be Resolute! (that means at least 1080p)

Recently an old friend asked me what were my New Year's Resolutions, to which I laughed at her hubris to think that perfection was in need of improvement, but then I thought, “do I not owe it to my loyal subjects of these fair isles and cays...and the continent of Andros, to give them more, to erect myself as a standard for them to live their lives by?” (yes I am copying and pasting from a former post, deal with it). But let me not ramble, here are the things I hope to do in the upcoming year 2011.

• • Stop pretending to be Movado to pick up girls at Google Sundays.

• • I hope to use my laser vision only for good and the occasional recreational death stare, reserved for Senator Machala Smith for spurning my advances.

• • Stop being an overt racist. The Blacks don’t like it.

• • Give the workers in my asbestos and silica mine in Cat Island health insurance, a lot of them are getting sick and I feel as though I could put more back into the community.

• • Have a doctor look at that suspicious mole on my thigh

• • I resolve to double my vampire/zombie kill percentage and not allow the dark monster of regret for the death of innocent mortals to overtake me and hinder my job as local meta-human.

• • Clarify that by “the Blacks” I meant the rugby team “the New Zealand Blacks”, a team made completely of filthy Spanish Polynesians…darn it, that sounds offensive, um I meant…Nigerians? (Hey if District 9 can get away with it, don’t you give me that look!)  

• • Remove the “I love Peggy-Sue” tattoo on the small of my back and replace it with “I appreciate the friendship, maybe I should take it slower seeing as I’ve only known you for the past 3 weeks” tattoo.

• • I will attempt to make green the official colour of the Bahamas, it is complicated, but you must trust me. Green is a better metaphor for the Bahamas than existing colours. I am also proposing a new flag for the country. The black triangle representing the forward progression of the people will be replaced by a dark jade, and the gold strip will become a heavy viridescent and the aquamarine fields will be changed to emerald. I feel that this combination will better represent the diversity of the country.

• • Find an attractive female doctor to look at that suspicious mole on my thigh

• • Make freckles mandatory for all girls between the age of 18-23

• • Finally wrap up my fan fiction series, the Nassau Guardian and the Tribune. Recently its become quite depressing and i don't feel as though my heart is in it any more and besides, who reads newspapers besides stuffy politicians and the old men in Oakes Field McDonald's between the hours of 8am and 12noon.

• • Unexplode Machala and her sexy self.

my Christmas story...

My son, Khia, has spent the entire month quite excited about the arrival of Christmas, now I was not his first Christmas, but it is the first Christmas that he has spent with both his mother and me, (I had always been able to end any relationship with her prior to the arrival of any holidays or birthdays, but this year I may have gotten caught up with the idea of family and love, simply put I was motivated by the spirit of Christmas). 

So Khia, thrilled about the prospect of spending time with me informs me that he has gotten me a gift. 

And what a gift. 

I'm able to write this the day before Christmas because, last night after my first-born son had crept off to bed, I snuck downstairs to peak under the tree to see what he had gotten me. There in a inelegantly wrapped box, with the craftsmanship that can only be accomplished by anxious wide eyed seven year old, eager to make his first Christmas with his father special, was my gift. He'd written on the orange tag with a green marker in large letters "for Papa, love Khia" with all the clichéd backward letters, it quite nearly brought tears to my eyes to read the words on the box, (it didn't help that they'd left the tele on and Gremlins was on and I personally abhor the way the negative light in which Spike is paint in the film, but that is another story for another day.) At first I tried my best to patiently peel back the wrapping so that I could re-wrap it and Khia would never know, but the excitement overwhelmed me when I remembered his promise that it was exactly what I needed. What ever could it be? Where would a seven year old get $36,000.00 to payback the Cartels for losing their eleven packets of C ₁₇ H ₂₁ NO ₄? I could not be more surprised than when I opened the box. 

It was empty. 

I was confused. Quickly I ran up the stairs and threw open his door, of course the guttersnipe was soundly asleep so I boxed his ears and demanded to know the meaning of the empty box, why would he get me a box of nothing for Christmas? Surely the gamine didn't think that his father had everything and had no need of anything, he couldn't, unless his mother had been filling his head with hopes of child support and alimony. Then Khia said in calm voice that stunned me, with clear tenor and timbre beyond his years he told me, "Papa, it is not empty...I filled it with my love".

It broke my heart. How could I argue with that? 

So I told him, "Listen you waif! This isn't a Nickelodeon special! I told your mother that that rubbish was going to pollute your mind with this gutter nonsense!" then I flung the empty box at him. it is unbelievable that i was going to give him a little brother or sister for Christmas, but now I refused to bring another ungrateful child into this world, thank goodness Happy Buddha had 3 for $1.50 special on prophylactics and Green Power energy drink, thank goodness for the Chinese we are all aware how good they are with birth/population control. 

I am annoyed. People have forgotten the true meaning of Christmas. At first it was fine when it was just the godless heathens of Ragged Island, but now the degenerate ideologies of the impious pagans have saturated our entire country, as you can see I have experienced it first hand in this episode with my 7 year old son.

i do not cry over spilled milk ( i wail inconsolably.)

(with fair warning this is not really going to funny...because its just me ranting but)
to the one that got away

some of us are not afforded the frivolous excuse of being hormonal nor afforded the benefit of being mistaken as the weaker sex. no some of us are cursed to be men, present company included. 

personally, i have never had the privilege of being able to curse someone, slap them purple and then blame it on the fact that i've only had 4 Midol tablets that day instead of to the traditional coma inducing, 2 and 1/2 bottles of sympathomimetic, cinnamedrine. (of course i have also never got angry at a group of people staring at a picture of my half naked body on Facebook that i took in my bathroom and then complain about feeling violated when the least attractive one in the lot remarks on the width of my bosoms and what noise they'd like to make "to" them.)

rant aside, this is why you must understand how it pains me so to come to the realization that i have lost you. 


you didn't do any of that crap, except the drug stuff... 


still, you knew that women were ridiculous and that men were stupid and for some reason despite your blatant misanthropic understanding of life you fell in love with me; me, premiere of idiotic sub-set 'b'.

why did we decide to...you know...not? 


typing this i'm quite sure i did something extremely stupid, but because i'm a dude the story i'm going with is, it was no doubt your fault. 


(this is where things get super specific, so people who know both of us and know that rum raisin, with the raisins picked out, is your favorite flavor of ice-cream, being second only to pistachio, will know who i'm talking about, but hey...that is why blogs exist, to share the darkness that no one knew but us and to make weird videos about being attacked by mutant weaves.)

i saw you the other day (and by the other day i mean today), i really wanted to roll my eyes but recently i have been crying so much over losing you that i was afraid if i tried to roll my eyes they would simply fall out of my head. 


yes as a male i once also subscribed to the whole "i don't cry as a matter of principle, but in theory i support the practice" then one day you were gone and seeing you brought all those wonderfully, painful memories back. 


the first time we held hands, the first time we kissed, the first time you said you loved me; (all those painful memories, not necessarily in that order.) 

it's seeing you all the way over there, 12 feet away, in the arms of someone else that i realize that you are perhaps the best thing that ever happened to me (and i challenge any of the girls from the 2008 Kalik Calendar to prove otherwise)


isn't christmas the most wonderful time to be alone? (and to the three gyals that slip me the numbers at the last Saturdays In The City it's not that you aren't quite attractive and won't make someone a wonderfully adequate single mother some day, but you know that you aren't her)

and now it is here choking on the exhaust from this #10 jitney, trying to steal some internet, hoping that you look at this i realize that one of us messed up...

it's probably you, i'm awesome

(... sigh)

...a day in the life of Schin Nguyen

Tuesday 12:01 am 
Schin Nguyen rises from his humble chateau in Lyford Cay where he goes into the early dew au naturel to  offer a prayer for the souls of his enemies. Sky clad, he burns incense to the god Allan Molech for the slow and painful death of the Justin Bieber, Trey Songz, Drake and K Jae as well as any other smooth singing bastards that when played, distract girls from the awesomeness of Schin and focus them onto these Proactive faced crooners. 


Tuesday 12:42 am
Schin Nguyen checks his Japanese stock portfolio and reconsiders trading so heavily in the "Walrus Pornography" market as recent complaints from animal rights activist as to whether the animals are enjoying it or are in the mood, or if they are simply doing it to pay their way through college and that it is wrong to objectify the Walrustic form simply for pleasure, have caused stock to plummet. Schin shakes his head. He's seen those Walruses, they know what they're into.




Tuesday 1:45 am
Schin Nguyen reviews the second draft of his letter to Bodine Johnson calling off their engagement. She's pretty, but his heart belongs to another... if only Sherice would return his calls. Schin comments that he is fully willing to change his last name to Major if that is what it takes and shows the stenographer his/her towels he already has monogrammed with "S.M." on it.




Tuesday 2:15 am
Schin Nguyen drunk dials Sherice, and laments for 45 minutes to her voice mail about her rejecting him, he promises he can change and that he'll do anything to be with her.




Tuesday 3:09 am
Schin Nguyen realizes that he has drunk dialed Bodine.




Tuesday 3:35 am
Drives to Bodine house with the hope of destroying her phone before she has a chance to check her voice mail, passes "On The Run" and realizes he has a hankering for some fried chicken. The fresh batch will be done in 10 minutes, Schin waits and to pass the time he kills a gang of Unicorns that are harassing a Wallaby.




Tuesday 4:20 am
Half way through his second 3 piece with wedges, Schin remembers why he left his house. Realizing he'll never make to Bodine's house in time to destroy her phone before her palates class at 5 am, he takes the second option afforded him. Pretending to be their Union President, Schin arranges for members of BTC to go on strike that morning, giving him enough time to hack into the data base and erase her voice mail.




Tuesday 4:45 am
Crisis averted, Schin stands outside of TAP's window watching her sleep, not in weird way, like a stalker or nothing, just because she crinkles her nose in the cutest manner when she is REM sleep. Schin gets a text, his ringtone is still '08 Shadowlaw, "You Just Got Specialed"  The message is from Bahamas Local.com, they have rejected his application for a listing as a full service Live in Chef/Man-whore. Schin mutters a series of curse words in his native tongue of German Polynesian, this wakes TAP. Schin ducks behind the ficus.




Tuesday 5:07 am
While the embers glow with sweet satisfaction, and the smoke and haze give a beautiful glare in the light of the rising sun, Schin Nguyen realizes that the sign does not say BahamasLocal.com at all. Regretting never finishing grade 5, Schin quickly gets into his car before the police arrive.




Tuesday 5:08 am
Schin returns to the burning building to move the business card that he has left with a scathing 12 page letter rebuking them for their elitism. Where is Bee going to buy her shoes from now? Shakes head, he'll figure that out when he crosses that bridge, "the Bridge! Darn it the Bridge!" Schin remembers that one of his numerous alter egos is both Perry Christie and Hubert Ingraham and part of his plan is to sell the Bridge leading to Paradise Island to a fiscally irresponsible company with part of the agreement being that no creature using less than 3 legs or more than 5 or any number of legs equal to or greater than the sum of x when x is a variable congruent to y can use the bridge.


Tuesday 5:30 am
Schin receives a phone call from Bodine, breaking off their engagement, apparently she has received several calls from Sherice complaining about his 3 am calls. Schin has a nervous break down which causes a disruption in the time-space continuum resulting in him not only being the kid that took your money in High school, but also you Grand Father, Sammi Starr

is it late or did i just change the day that i post?

No one reads my blog (except the people who complain about the speling errors), and so in order to assure that I fulfill the contributory requirement of my contract with my Editors, I will write a 600-word column, but you will neither like nor find it humorous. If you wish to abandon the pursuit of reading, the rest of this piece, now is the time.

Go ahead, remember failure is always an option, as a matter of fact, failure is always option 2 in my book; superceded only by quitting.

Why are you still reading? (Note that I said Why are you still reading? And not Why are you still reading! Although you are signaled by the word ‘why’ to the fact that I’m asking you a question, the use of a question mark as opposed to an exclamation mark, suggest a politeness  and acceptance in the tone of the question. Alas I do not think it expresses fully the level of sardonic intonation in the question… and why are you still reading this!)

Alright truthfully,  I’ll be honest, but for real this time, the only reason that I’m still writing because I’m trying to steal your girlfriend, and she seems rather impressed with the fact that I’m literate. I don’t expect that she’s going to read past the  the byline, she’s rather easy that way, but you know that. All it takes is one DRAKE song and you’ll be raising someone else son while she tries to convince you that its her grandfather’s hazel eyes and lumber jack beard that the baby inherited.

Wait, oh flip, I don’t have hazel eyes either, boy I guess she got us both. Boy, that  Melissa is a wily one.

And now you’ve probably wondered if you missed something. What message is the writer trying to get across. You should know better than trying to assign meaning by presuming what is the authorial intent.

What are you a formalist?

Of course not, if you were you wouldn’t care about my intent, you also would have stop reading  because you would have taken ENG 311 already an known better than to read a blog by an English major online.

English Major’s don’t have a sense of humor, just an unshakable sense of entitlement and arrogance, and why shouldn’t we, we are better than all the other Schools (yea I’m talking to you Natural Sciences).

Wait hold on, I got to watch this episode of Robot Chicken….lsssrkjn;wsrffd vaeoaev,,j.

Oh, you’re still here…I would also like to take this time to recommend the fictitious character, Philip Meryl Tompkins, for  President of the College.

Which returns me to my original point

No one reads this blog, except you apparently. Well congratulations, you elitist. Do you feel like you better than the people who skipped over this  and just went looking for bootleg manga online, (you should feel better than them, pictures are to stop illiterate people from driving off cliffs. (I apologize if I have offended anyone whose parents may have been a road side sign, it is an honorable profession, and your father did that so you could have it better than him. I promise you that he did not spend 60 hours a day wearing a sign that says “this way to Diamond Intl” so that you could not look down on him.)

Come let us feign intelligence by discussing words that neither of us can pronounce, the other day when I was wearing my Prussian blue cardigan and listening to an audio book of my favorite ghazal artist…and this makes 600 words, here.