Awwwwwwwww you know who it is. It's Buttug McOysty. If you ain't know, you betta Google me baby. Word to Teyana Taylor.
If that last sentence left you in the dust, it probably means you haven't heard the song. And if that is really the case, you should go sit on the toilet and ponder long and hard about where you are in life.
Then click here to listen to it. As this is a reentry-to-the-Internets post, this'll be shorter and sweeter than a dwarf cupcake. That doesn't even have to make sense to sound delicious.
Quick Shots from my Vacation in the Dominican Republic
- locals consider all Chinese people "Jackie Chan's brother/cousin" - locals are also blatantly sexist to the point where the girls had to ask for everything because the guys were being ignored - ingesting too many local foods/liquids containing coconut leads to diarrhea (known as Puerto Plata splatter, with splatter pronounced splatta...like the gangsters say it) - "Oh my mother" is the equivalent of "Oh my God" - "I like your mouth" is not only one of the worst pick up lines ever, it has the ability to creep the heebie-jeebies out of a girl - the sun burns - just about 70% of the DR claims Catholicism as their religion - the other 30% believe in rum! (badaboom CHING!) - I seriously thought this dance was their national anthem because of how many times the resort folks performed it - then, as we got addicted to performing it with them, I reconsidered, and thought of it more as their SouljaBoyTellEm - what else...what else - all men over the age of 50 that insist on wearing Speedos should be summarily tried for crimes against humanity - I am a fantastic para-sailer (sailor?), the Muhammad Ali of the recreational activity if you will (and you will), if only parasailing was an Olympic sport - if you can't respect that, your whole perspective is wack, maybe you'll love me when I fade toblack
Should I worry about my friend (ex-housemate), if one of the first things he says to me after maybe a month of little communication is, "I put my Psyduck in the nursery and it grew levels and forgot to learn things ):".
He didn't actually "):", but that was to convey his tone of voice.
On one hand, I felt the need to slap the inner-elementary-school-aged-kid out of him. Instead of being a working man that's looking to support a wife and kids, he's a working man leveling up Pokemons!
POKEMONS!
Pokemen? Was there ever a consensus on the plural of Pokemon? Does 'i' really have to come before 'e' except after 'c', and also when you recite the alphabet going forwards?
The other side of me felt the desperate need to get the Pokemon game for myself because I felt like I was missing out on something.
Maybe 30's the new 20 after-all.
This post that made no sense was brought to you by the sunny beaches of the Dominican Republic. It was mailed in because I should be catching a plane right now. Bye blog. Bye blog readers.
I spent last weekend having fun in the snow. I will be spending this weekend, and the next week for that matter, floating in the pool of a resort, or floundering on the coastal waters of the Dominican Republic.
The stark contrast is not lost on me, and I am thankful for the opportunity to experience such different lifestyles. One of the bigger things to wrap my head around are the differences in preparation.
Last weekend, I had to worry about which pair of pants would provide the most protection against the cold and at the same time would be the sacrificial pair that would suffer many a tumble as I tumbled down the hill on various objects. That pair happened to be the pair of jeans I'm wearing. Still intact, and possibly more comfortable before thanks to the "working in" provided by the workout.
Neither here nor there.
This week, I'm scrambling to get my immunizations in order so I don't come back to Canada as a bearer of very bad gifts. And here's where the story (I was telling a story? I'm not very convincing, even to myself) gets, uhm, one notch above 'kill me this is boring'.
I wake up this morning for a 9:40am malaria consult with the part-time campus doctor. Turns out, the area I'm heading to (Puerto Plata - for my online records, you don't really need to know) does not present much of a risk of malaria. Furthermore, the malaria prevention pills were to be taken two weeks prior to the trip and would have minimal effect, unless I took stronger ones with potentially adverse side effects.
So I walked out of the clinic with a prescription for diarrhea pills (you can't ever be too prepared) and a bill for TWENTY DOLLARS.
Things You Can Do For Twenty Dollars A) Eat 10 pieces of Kentucky Fried Chicken
B) Download "Bad Day" 20 times from iTunes and wonder what in the world Daniel Powter was thinking, and then question your own motives (20 times? seems excessive)
C) Talk to a doctor for five minutes
And just like any responsible University student that guesses on multiple-choice exams, the answer should never ever be C.
If you close your eyes and read my posts, wait that doesn't make any sense, I should strike this out have my posts read to you, there are times you would mistaken me for a person that currently resides in the greatest nation on the face of this planet, the United States of America.
Please. I'm kidding (about the greatest nation thing, not about the mistaken identity thing). I am not trained to quantitatively (or even qualitatively) compare countries to each other (bachelors, computing, coming soon, thank you). But, I heart New York. Moreover, sometimes I like to exert my authority over others through military dominance (projectiles and verbal barbs). It rarely works, but that could be seen as another thing I have in common with the US.
So please, take the time to remind yourself that I, Buttug McOysty, am a Canadian. Whisper that to yourself in front of a mirror. I'll wait...
...tables. With that all said, I now turn my attention to American politics, specifically the ongoing horse-race happening within the Democratic party.
And let's not twist things that aren't twist-ties. What it's really come down to is whether the people are more comfortable giving a white woman (Hilary stand up) or a black man (yes Obama can) the chance to, well, get a chance to reside in the Oval Office.
Let's face facts (that are really my opinions). These two people, running for the exact same party, will shade roughly the same on most issues, provided they ever become President. And even then, it's not like they can storm in there and change. There's a bureaucratic process that tends to water down most election promises and force compromises.
What you have left is this. Female vs Male. White vs Black. What interests me is that we get both gender and race weighing in at the same time. Meaning that one will ultimately prevail. And the other gets to go home and eat an ice-cream cake. And all their "*insert eventual loser's name* is YOUR 2008 Democratic candidate" t-shirts get sent to remote areas of underprivileged countries, never to be seen again.
Of further interest? You get fantastically outrageous stories about how Obama would be assassinated too quickly (because he's black) and should therefore not win.
Canadian politics have never make me LOL Zed out loud before.
*Post-Emptive Disclaimer* - I readily admit that it's not 100% about race and sex, but c'mon, that's where all the real interest is generated from.
Please click to read the fine print. Despite your first impressions of the statement in red, it really makes sense.
Nobody wants to be used, but everybody wants to be useful.
**Edit**
My apologies, I should have properly cited the work above, not that the Internet po-po come around this abandoned place anyways.
The above image is an excerpt from Thank You And You’re Welcome!, a soon-to-be-released(?) book authored by Kanye West.
ALSO.
Turns out, this black and white motif was taken one step too far by Internet Explorer. I have discovered if you view this blog using that browser, all my images are transformed into b&w. So. You're missing out, and I'm much too busy to investigate at this point! But as John Mayer once sung, "I know the world is black and white". I don't know where I'm taking this.
