I dreamnt of you last night. It’s been a long time, and I hope you’re doing well. Well, better than well.

I don’t remember much of you anymore, except that you were really funny…and that you looked really funny when you ran. Well, its not like you had a different style, its more like you had absolutely no idea what you were doing.

For the public: Ballerina-on-tip-toes-bouncing-forward-wondering-why-feet-aren’t-getting-down-quick enough. Surprisingly quick too, especially since you were as active as a koala bear.

Take care

“Uh oh” - (ICQ) and Excess Floods?
Now we have killer IM applications that boasts instant fly abilities and holographic projections. I’m waiting for them to invent a smell-a-tron, so you can smell your girlfriend’s room through the computer, and ask her why her room smells like sex.

On a completely unrelated issue, Two days ago, I dreamnt I ate shit.
Well, not exactly. I decided it was a good idea to shit in a bathtub, because I was too lazy to go to the potter. I mustn’t have eaten much fibre in my dream, because the shit simply wouldn’t go down the drain. I then decided to clean it by bobbing for it with tissues in my mouth.

I honestly woke up thinking, good god, my mouth tastes like rainbows.

True story.

Because everybody loves a shit story right?

I started sleeping with this girl, say no more than 2 or 3 days, known her for less than 2-3 weeks.

One morning, I felt some gas in my tummy, so I did a little butt turn so I wouldn’t make a noise, and low and behold, I let out brown piss from my ass.

Obviously it stank like death, and so I rushed to the toilet (she was still asleep) for some wet toilet paper, and began silently scrubbing away.

She woke up suddenly and asked what was the smell, I haven’t disposed of the toilet paper yet, so I had to quickly brush it off brown stained paper off the bed and claimed that the rubbish truck just drove by.

Never a dull moment.

If there’s anything I’m regular at, its posting Happy New Year on Suckball, so I suppose I can mark that off my list. 

HOWEVER. I have an excuse. I was too busy stealing the oranges in Valencia, eating $8 euro prawns, admiring raked beaches of Gandia, and getting absolutely shit faced drunk.

Regardless. Here’s to your new year, and may it not be affected too much by the economic crisis.

Happy New Year.

-Suckball

1) Solve the whole world hunger problem
2) Find Osama and kill him with my thumb
3) Say “yeah sure” to a random stranger offering you free drugs at a charity concert

I’ve always wondered how it feels to be the kind of person that knows exactly what they want to do in life. I just turned 24 three days ago, I have a job that pays me way more than I deserve, I earn way more than I can conceivably spend, and yet I keep thinking that there HAS to be much more to life than this.

I suppose part of that reason is my knowing that I have little to no friends, nor am I willing to do anything about it. I have about a billion people who like me, and hang out with me often, but friends friends? I’m convinced I have less friends than appendages on a hand.

But at the same time, I strive to be this bitter, sarcastic, know-it-all-annoying-motherfucker that puts people down the moment I hear anything stupid (Gregory House is my master). This is when I came to realise why I have an incessant need to be in a relationship, to strap myself to someone in order to be loved, just so I can hate everyone else.

Here’s a very happy nine-months-and-many-years-ago-your-dad-didnt-use-a-condom day to all you November kids.

Biggest fucking faggot? Big Friendly Foot? Binoculars Finding Food?

For some reason, my brain does a memory wipe everytime I learn what BFF stands for. Every year or so, I stumble upon “BFF” and can only get as far as knowing that one of the F stands for friends.

I suppose I should be glad that my brain actually despises useless shit.

(No, one answer is simply not enough.)

I’m in a constant battle of trying to figure out whether I want to be normal or special. We can have an endless pointless argument about how because everyone wants to be special, they in end become normal too…but we aren’t going to do that.

There are parts of me that are, for lack of a better word, broken. I wish for those things to be fixed, i’m not asking for something spectacular, just normalcy. I wish my family was normal, I wish my addictions were normal, I wish my obsessive compulsiveness were normal, I wish my thoughts were normal…I wish to have normal thoughts.

And there are parts of me that are “special.” I have a brilliant mind, and I know this. I have insights on things that would take people decades to realise (One of which is a certain technology that will revolutionize usb devices, and in the future, any kind of power delivering medium), my obsessive curiousity that enables me to be that annoying person that knows something about everything, and the speed in which I absorb knowledge.

The desire to be normal not only makes what is bad about me better, but also takes whatever is good - and squashes it. The key issue at hand then is to find a balance, but really, how do you balance evil thoughts with doing something good?

It’s like sticking one of your hands in freezing water, and boiling the other.

Was corny.

More later.