Lazy, Selfish


Yesterday was the first day that that man could drive his Hummer in New York City with reason. I’m sure he was proud.

Like the rest of this post-apocalyptic world we are living in without completely realizing it, we are covered in snow. The night before had been a misadventure to see Tron – an hour and a half of The Dude being surprised by how cool computers are – through what seemed like Antarctic conditions, if Antarctica were full of stalling cars instead of penguins. Our 3D glasses providing wind protection, we trudged through feet of snow passed people choosing to spend the night in bodegas and toward the warmth of a friend’s couch.

There was a man walking by us with a crutch as we struggled with the lock of our entrance. Through three feet of snow, one man was hobbling and using a hunk of metal as his other leg to attempt to reach his destination.

Did we help him? Did we offer to put him up for the night? Did we stare awkwardly attempting to decide if either of these things were valid to do?


I still feel terrible.

I feel terrible because my thought process was: “I don’t need to help him because no one else will. He can’t be mad at me because I’m not treating him worse than other people are treating him. He’s not going to specifically point out me as an asshole – I’m just part of asshole culture.”

After our first apocalyptic adventure with a tornado everyone helped out everyone else, but now we film each other struggling with cars.

I don’t think it’s time that has jaded us, I think it’s cold that has made us less willing to help our fellow citizen. Fuck cold.

Also fuck myself.

Lonely, Selfish

I’m Sexy?

I was asked recently how many people I had had sex with. I counted and said the number, surprised and proud by what I thought was a large number. She responded: “That’s it? I thought it would be more.”

My pride turned to patheticness, which then turned to confusion, which then turned to self-doubt.

It’s not that I look at the number of people you sleep with as the mark of a man, but rather that I enjoy sleeping with people and so having a high number means I have enjoyed many different experiences, which sounds good. What was confusing to me about the reaction was that somebody would assume I had slept with more people than I had.

I always figured that despite the fact that we are people who are constantly transforming, there would be one constant in my life: People would view me as unattractive to others. Even if they found me attractive, they would assume they were the only one. But I looked in the mirror this morning and saw somebody weird. My face has decent looking facial hair that seems hip in the midst of a forest of manly stubble. I’m not gonna go crazy and say that I thought I was attractive, but I definitely understood my appeal to others. Especially in this era of scrawny guys with quirky choices ruling the world.

I got lucky. I was born at the right time.

Hipster bashing is so boring at this point. Not because they don’t deserve to be ridiculed – everybody deserves to be ridiculed, and not because only hipsters bash other hipsters – self-hatred without self-awareness is funny and should be a part of our world, but because we don’t know what a hipster is. We define it as people we are jealous of, and I am jealous of the person people think I am.

So I will now define myself as a hipster. Despite that I don’t know any bands that you haven’t heard of, can’t fix my bike, love sitcoms, and don’t shop for clothing with more than $10 in my pocket – I am a hipster! And by claiming it, I will change the definition. Because, like love, there is no commonly accepted definition, so I can create my own.

If you hate me, you are allowed to hate hipsters. That’s fine, but otherwise, you don’t hate hipsters because this is what hipsters like:

1. Kanye West and Nicki Minaj getting along

2. The fall of the laugh track in the American sitcom

3. Losing their i-pod

4. Being bad at fixing things

5. Math

6. Fantasy sports

7. Mirrors

8. Not washing things as often as they should be washed

9. Having a profound misunderstanding of visual art

10. Games – board or video

See here’s the thing. I love Stumbleupon – it’s great not only in it’s ability to waste your time, but also in it’s ability to tell you who you are and what you like. The last two websites that stumbleupon told me that I’d enjoy were an essay against victim blaming in rape cases, and an empirical (good pun) study of the Death Star. This is why I’m surprised to find myself seeming attractive: People who like nerdy shit and discussing rape intellectually don’t get laid – they get grants.

I could totally use some grants right now.

Attention Whoring, Lonely, My favorites, Nostalgia, Selfish

Love is Pure Mathematics and the Neverending Story

I’ve mentioned it before, but the best thing on the internet is the wikipedia entry on Love. The entry climaxes when love is described as a “thought-terminating cliche.” What I think is so amazing about that is that in three words they are able to describe everything I hate about the world and therefore explain why I don’t feel love. Love is something that halts discourse and thinking rationally in favor of doing something unoriginal. You couldn’t describe anything in a way that made me hate it more.

Love is simply a word, but words are inventions, and love is humans’ most interesting invention because it is completely intangible yet has weaseled its way into our culture in such a way that humanity decided it was necessary. It isn’t. Love is conceptual, which is fine, so is joy or depression or any feeling, but love is a concept that we refuse to define and yet demand for everybody to understand.

“I love you, don’t you understand?”

No. How could I?

Nobody says “I enjoy fantasy basketball, don’t you understand?” because no other emotion demands so much out of another person. You can enjoy fantasy basketball and not give a shit if someone else does. You can’t love someone without them loving you back or your love becomes depression. It’s selfish.

This is why long distance relationships work. Because love is impossible. It is impossible to love someone that you see because they are real and love isn’t – it’s a made up concept that can’t exist between two (or more) actual human beings, but when you are not near that person it’s easier to create the person you love.

I’ve fallen in love before.

I’ve fallen in love before multiple times, but never with a person that I was near. Only with the idealized version of that person that I created in my masturbation memories. The person who made funny jokes about my cum when the tissue I was using got saturated. The person whose jokes were not theirs, but rather mine that I imposed upon them using my made up version of their voice.

This isn’t going to turn into another post about how I love myself.

I said that more to stop myself from going down that hole because loving myself is getting old. But because love is a fantasy, we can only truly love our fantasies, and our fantasies come from our mind.

My imaginary friends were Didi and Dodo and they lived in the fridge and the freezer and they slept in separate beds and they were married. I don’t know if they were in love. I knew they were married. I knew they liked to slide down my railing with me. I knew that they fit in my palm. It didn’t matter if they were in love, but they were. They were the only two things that were ever in love because they were imaginary – and love is imaginary.

This isn’t a disillusioned rant of a young child pretending to be jaded.

I said that to stop myself from making it such. But love can’t be real because theoretical creations are simply that: theoretical.

My entire academic life was in pursuit of studying mathematics, but I couldn’t ever get into the beauty of what G.H. Hardy calls “Pure Mathematics” because it wasn’t tangible and it’s hard to grasp something intangible by definition. Love is “pure mathematics.” Love is something that some people can feel, but only for something that doesn’t exist. Love is like faith, but in a person that you’ve made up yourself – as opposed to religion, which is faith a person somebody else made up for you. In a sense love is noble, but it’s delusional.

I want to get back to my point about how love can only exist with people who aren’t there because I feel like I have more to say, but I transitioned away from that. Well, I’m back onto it.

Love can only exist with people who aren’t there. That’s it. I think I just needed to repeat it.

Last time I was home with my parents, I was forcing volume out of my mouth in an indignant manner about how love was a bullshit concept created by the patriarchal bla bla bla of capitalist bla bla bla in order to enforce monogamy and bla bla bla and create xenophobia and bla bla bla. My mom heard the bla bla bla part and stopped me.

“Nisse, does the reason you think this way have anything to do with Dad and me?”

“No, of course not.” I lied.

I lied only in the sense that of course my perceptions of love are warped by the people who raised me, but I wasn’t really lying. Love is so ill-defined that each of us is forced to create our own definition of love – and mine is: a self-generated, difficult, selfish, act of pure mathematics that is based in noble delusion.

At least that makes it sound better than a thought-terminating cliche.

Indignant, Lonely, My favorites, Selfish

When Did I Become Such a Pussy?

I don’t mean a pussy like a female reproductive organ. I mean a pussy like the tapered piece of wood that you hit with a stick in order to hit it again with the stick in a game of tipcat.

I used to stand up for my beliefs. Back when my beliefs were stupid and annoying and made other people feel bad about themselves. But people needed to feel bad about themselves because they were making mistakes. I made mistakes too. I make mistakes too.

I still make mistakes. That’s important. You also kept making mistakes, but I stopped pointing it out. It’s not that I stopped caring. I still get frustrated and walk out of rooms just to stare at walls breathing deeply until I calm down. It’s that I stopped showing my reaction. Instead I sit idly by while I get flipped in the air and then batted away as far as can be batted. Then instead of hailing insults in my wake at my assaulters as I fly through the air I simply wait until I land and the bets have been placed on how far I have flown.

That joke will be funny to the one person who is googling the rules of tipcat while knowing the basic elements of the game and stumbles across this blog instead and finds themselves intrigued by the title because they are sexually frustrated because they haven’t gotten any in a while and are trying to keep their mind off it by researching 17th century children’s games. Well first of all that didn’t work, pussy. You haven’t gotten any because you are ugly and you refuse to get a haircut because you think that that will be compromising some part of your identity when the reality is that getting a haircut will just stop offering you the excuse that people don’t like your hair and that’s why they won’t sleep with you.

Second off: Fuck the rest of you that didn’t get it. Not that you should have gotten my joke, but more that I don’t give a fuck about you. I’ve given too much of a fuck about you for a while.

Did you read my last post? It mentioned Glee.

When did I become such a pussy?

People need to be tested. People need to be uncomfortable. People need to feel like shit. People need to feel bad about themselves. People need to be like me.

I had forgotten that. I had forgotten how important it is for me to to force everyone to be more like me.

Do you wanna see the first paragraph of my novel? I don’t give a shit. Read it:

“I am a prophet and this is my religion’s bible. My religion’s Bhagvad Gita. My religion’s Koran. My religion’s text in story form that explains the philosophies by which a member of my religion should live their life.”

The dude who wrote that wasn’t a pussy because that dude wasn’t scared of everybody’s reaction because that dude wasn’t so desperately lonely that he held onto any basic element of friendship that would make him feel like he wasn’t running wildly through a blank hall of broken ears unable to hear his screams. So he screamed softly the things that those ears wanted to hear. Well now I’ve whipped out my dick and you all are going to get earfucked.

1. You can’t get laid. Neither can I. Neither can people in Darfur. That person near you doesn’t want their genitalia near your genitalia, and that doesn’t mean anything more than the fact that they don’t want their genitals near your genitals. That isn’t some great indignance against society. Mostly this guy is a douche.

2. You’re a mother of an upper-class white kid with a nanny, you aren’t saving the world. In fact you are probably causing a lot of pain to the world with your 6 foot by 23 foot stroller made of petroleums made of dead pelicans. By the way six people died to make your engagement ring and you are complaining about your $50 haircut – you are a piece of shit.

3. Stop telling me that this silence is awkward. I know. I’m in it. I probably made it awkward in hopes that you would stop trying to talk to me.

4. Doing drugs doesn’t make you cool. Doing cool things on drugs makes you cool. Stop bragging about how much you smoked, drank, or at what time you did. Start bragging about how you need an alibi, you don’t know where parts of your body are, or you feel like you invented wormholes with your emotions.

5. Saying “fag” ironically isn’t subversive. Your existence is subversive – in that it subverts intelligence. I don’t think I used the word subvert right.

I think I’m less of a pussy now and more of stick.

Attention Whoring, comedy, I Don't Know What the Fuck This Is, Selfish

Me: In Others

I can’t believe my roommate is taking this couch. I mean, she bought it, but I sit on it most. Doesn’t that mean something?

The coffee table/bench is also on it’s way out. Another thing that I use most. Another thing I feel like I have the most emotional connection to.

I sit on my couch with my feet up on the bench reading blogs and shit. I’m gonna make fun of other peoples blogs now.

Ok, Lara: Love is sooooooo hard. Companionship is soooooooo fun. Gross. I hate companionship. It’s just a synonym for obligation mixed with someone else’s desires that contradict yours. And I don’t care that you just saw Maggie Gillie. I’m not jealous because at least I’m not immature enough to strive for love. Fuck, it’s not immaturity, it’s that you are a moron who places importance on things that aren’t important. I’m not talking about your misplaced love of weird gyrating sounds that are annoying to listen to, I’m talking about your misplaced love of boys who are willing to talk to you.

Yeah Ben: you fail at rap because you are white. There’s an original stance to take. Oh wait, no, you like the same rap that black people like. Oh, you are more cultured and understanding than other white boys who pretend to like rap because you don’t need to analyze it for its content, message, and intellectuality. But you could. You totally could because you aren’t stupid, you just choose not to because you aren’t pretentious. Yeah, you aren’t pretentious. Sure.

Whoa Dan: To forgive is to shut people up, and yet it is not divine? What is wrong with you? Shutting people up is divine. You should shut up. That would be divine. Especially about how big your weiner is. Look, it was cute and all when you started using weiner as your term for dick-shlong, but now it’s just a catchphrase. As is “House It.” As is literally everything you write. Let me try to write a blog entry for you: Hey I got high off of lots of blunts and laughed at poop. I have a girlfriend, weird, right? Girls should do more so that I can stick my big weiner in them. In their mouths, let’s be clear because I’m still a little frightened of vaginas. House it. Editors Note: I don’t really have anything worthwhile to say, but I feel another need to reference both my shit and my penis so I just thought of a new phrase: WeinerDoodie. It means when you fuck a pile of shit with your limp penis. It’s funny because it involves the same things I’ve made jokes about for the past 6 years and it says them using words that 8 year olds use. Do you get it yet? Do I need to make another editor’s note despite the fact that calling myself an editor of my own blog is both narcissistic and inaccurate.

Cool Grace: You have an opinion on facebook places??!!?!? WHAT?!!? OMG stop the presses, stop my dick, it needs to leave mid penetration to read this fucking fascinating article on how invasion of privacy is blah blah blah. I didn’t even finish reading this because I’m sure I understand the conclusion: I don’t want people to know what I’m doing, that’s why I publish it constantly on the internet via this blog.

Oooooh Paul: Look at me, I can draw and be earnest in my childish endeavors into coloring. Everybody is gonna think this is cool an hip. It’s not it’s just that Paul is a fucking child who can’t grow up because he doesn’t have to because his parents buy him all the root beer he needs. Could you not resist coloring in your own drawing Paul? Why don’t you not resist working on the project we’re working on together instead of playing in coloring books like a fucking four year old?

Wowza Scott: I’m Scott, I don’t have anything interesting to say. I just spend all my time focusing on what others say and repeating them. I actually genuinely respect your laziness, but I hate your non-fear of death. That’s stupid. Death is scary. Don’t be dumb.

Sarah??: “Nice guy from Turkmenistan.” Really? That’s your description? Really? … We all know turkmenisties are fuckwads.

mmm Syreeta: Look at how cultured I am! Look at how much i don’t think about being in America! Look at my boring apartment with nothing in it but my loneliness!

Duh Sara: Tristan is a dude’s name. Also, great job copyrighting your little tidbits. Everybody is trying to steal them.

Yeah Brad: Y’know who’s the jerk? You. You’re the jerk. And you know who you got your genetic material from? Not your pretty aunt, but your ugly mother. That’s why you are such a jerk, because you are bitter that everybody thinks you are soooo ugly. Well, too bad, this is the real world and some people are ugly and some people are beautiful. You are ugly, deal with it. And, whoopdifuckingdoo, you got to talk about your childhood again and all the great shows you are doing with great lineups. Try something new, like not putting weird pictures in your posts that only serve to confuse me as to what message you are presenting and take up a lot of space so that you don’t have to write that much.

Wahoo Girl who commented on my blog and now I’ve started reading hers because I’m lonely and I tend to really enjoy it for the most part: You got on stage and liked it. Wow! Revelation alert!!! You enjoy talking about yourself enough to start a blog about it and now you are realizing that you like talking about yourself too?! Holy shit! Wait, before we move on, let’s talk about how embarrassing it was for you to have a 4.0 in middle school. Nobody had a 4.0 in middle school. And it doesn’t matter if your mom mentioned it. You did. Right now. You are bragging. Stupidly. Like someone who got a 2.0 in middle school. I would have given you strait Cs in 4th grade.

Here we go, Me: You are too jealous of everyone else’s success to comment on the fact that you have a depressing life that mostly revolves around your judgement of others in similar boats to you. Maybe if you laced those boats together you could make a big cruise ship, but you’d rather take a dump in everybody else’s boat because you are so full of shit. Also, trim your beard it looks gross.

Attention Whoring, comedy, My favorites, Selfish


I wish I had accidentally become Justin Beiber. He’s writing his memoir at 16. I want to write my memoir every two years. I guess I just call it a blog and write it constantly, but the idea of publishing a book with stories I pull from my short term memory sounds awesome.

I also want to be Justin Beiber because I like the idea of being a tween sensation. Not because I want to fuck 16 year olds, but I think I do want to fuck 16 year olds’ expectations. That is to say that I want to be on the cover TeenHeartThrobbingCock magazine with a patchy half beard, a ball hanging out, with my arm around a 40-year-old-fat-poor-black-woman that I met on set when she was begging for change to support her illiterate child and her meth addiction.

It’s not that I want to change what we find attractive, it’s that I don’t want people to understand what they find attractive. Especially teenagers. They are so easily influenced into liking shit, let’s not tell them what they like. Let’s let them make their own fucked up decisions. Let’s make Peaches a viable teenstar:

This video is NSFW if your work isn’t into the implication that Dorothy likes to get high and then get eaten out by flying monkeys

I want to give an interview to aforemention TweenCockThrob that goes like this:

TeenageThrobLand: So, H2$. Your eyes are so blue –

NG: You ever been eye-fucked?

CockTeenTease: I, what?

NG: It’s different than skull fucking. It’s when I look at you so hard that you get wet. Why do you think all these 16 year olds are masturbating to pictures of me? It’s cus I’m eye fucking them when I’m on camera.

TeenJizz: So how would you describe your appeal?

NG: I simultaneously look like I’m 14 years old and like I’m going to make mommy leave daddy for me only to leave her for someone fatter and uglier causing her to go through an uncomfortable revelation that she has past her sexual prime and come crawling back to daddy who has moved on to a younger girl because our society only respects aging when it happens to penises therefore pushing her further into her manic depression until she takes too many pills and she has to give up her custody and you have to go live with daddy and your new step mom who resents you for making it harder to spend daddy’s money and suck daddy’s cock.

WetPantweens: What movie do you look to for inspiration?

NG: Debbie Does Dick, it’s a spin off of Debbie Does Dallas.

Teeeeeeeeeens!!!1!!: So, you like sex a lot?

NG: No. I cry after I have sex every time. I much prefer masturbation because then nobody has to see my tears.

TeenLOLzorsWeiner: I… Um.

NG: Do you want half this ball of opium? I don’t think I can finish it. I’m full.

It’s not just about defying or creating new expectations. It’s about not allowing expectations to exist. Expectations are boring – they make things easy to predict. I want to be constantly surprised, but unsurprised that I am surprised.

comedy, Selfish

Text Massage

I got married to my comedy partner and divorced in the same show. Then I went out drinking. Then went home at 2am to pack up and leave again on a train to get on a plane to go to Minnesota for two actual weddings. I am in Minnesota now.

This last week has been hectic, which has led to me forgetting to find a place to stay or a ride from the airport that I landed at 8am in this morning. I quickly texted all my friends still in the twin cities including a girl who has changed her number since I last had it.

Here’s how the text message conversation went:

Me: Just got into town, call when ur up if you wanna chilldown

Her: Who is this

Me: H2$

Her: No really. Who’s this

Me: This is H2$. Is this Syreeta?

Her: No. I have no idea who nissie is

Me: ok, sorry, person must have switched numbers

Then I realized that this was an excellent opportunity to fuck with this dickwad who couldn’t spell my name despite it being spelled for him

Me: do you wanna hang out anyway? Im in minnesota.

Her: What! How did u get my number. How can I. I live in Indiana

Me: Let’s meet up halfway. Chicago in 3 hrs. Lets meet at the pizza place across from the field museum

Her: Why would I do that when I have NO IDEA WHO YOU ARE!!!

Me: it seems like we would get along. I know a bunch of us are playing outdoor bocce on wednesday, if u want to come

Me (Con’t): Ill bring the weed. 😉

Her: U r different

Her (Con’t): Where do u go to school *Presumptive*

Me: Dude, you know me, i always said school was for sissies, and I stick by my guns

Her: No. I don’t know u. Are u a boy or a girl

Me: also, before I forget, check out the article on shark week in the huffington post. Its your two favorite things – nature videos and liberal propoganda

Her: I hate those things!!!!

Me: I guess i was confusing you with someone fun. Ill see you at coffee news! Lol

The impersonability that technology has left us with is fun and hilarious.

One of the kitchen staff at work asked me to write a nice text message to this girl he met on the subway because he didn’t speak English well enough. This is what I said:

When I cry it smells like I imagine it would smell like to make love to you.

Attention Whoring, comedy, Selfish


I performed twice the other day.

In one performance I was telling a story in a hospital waiting room about my love of Mr. Rogers. In the other I was arguing vehemently while waving my penis around. Both performances went well which brings me to my point: Anything can be enjoyable.

There are so many ways to say what you need to say that are still good. There is no formula to greatness. This annoys me because I like formulas. So I refuse to admit this and instead will find a formula. Have fun.

This makes me sound really annoying. I’m not sure I don’t like that.

I’m annoying.

I’ve been annoying most of my life, and it’s treated me well. I wasn’t annoying when I was a kid because I was too shy to talk much, but I always liked the kids that were “annoying.” I started thinking of it as a compliment because being annoying meant that that person was interesting and willing to say things that wouldn’t be meant with blanket approval.

I, surprisingly, did not have ADD or ADHD or any other acronym that said something was wrong with me. I say “surprisingly” because everyone assumes I did or do have it. I sort of have adult ADD, but I think it’s a choice. I think I chose to have ADD. It’s more fun. It’s more annoying. Being annoying means that you are pushing people into new realms of emotion. You are frustrating people, and if there’s one thing I like more than being annoying, it’s being frustrated. So, I consider being annoying a form of charity – I am getting people to experience emotions that they wouldn’t experience otherwise. And experiencing as many emotions as possible in as short a time span as possible is the purpose of life.

Attention Whoring, Depressed, Pathetic, Selfish

The Heat is Making Me Look Like I’m Cleaning Vagina

I only have one pair of shorts. The pair is also nearly the only non-undergarmet article of my clothing that wasn’t previously owned. It’s a pair of athletic shorts I bought during the week and a half that I wanted to play basketball with my friends because I had nothing better going on in my life. That was a bad summer. All summers suck. I hate the heat. I get dehydrated easily. This is the furthest south I’ve lived in the summer. This is the hottest summer of my life. Fuck New York. I’ve started drinking Gatorade all the time to try to maintain a decent level of electrolytes.

Fuck New York.

New York is making my look like a douche – Wearing athletic shorts and drinking large containers of Gatorade.

There was a douche in my nerdiest math class who wore the same outfit and drank the same thing while he didn’t take notes because he was “too smart for that.” I hated him. I was usually the kid who was too smart to take notes, but this class was fucking impossible. This was Number Theory with Bressoud. Known for being one of the hardest math classes at my school. There were only 7 guys in the class and I was the least nerdy by far. Not by far. By so far that I couldn’t even see the next least nerdy person if we were lined up on the nerd spectrum. I was suddenly the stupidest person in class. My weekly Risk games made me seem cool because I had three friends to play Risk with.

One of these kids way less cool than me and way smarter than me was Jacob. Jacob also liked weightlifting. He was a douche. He would chug 24 ounces of Gatorade every class period in the midst of answering questions I was struggling with. UGH.

I wasn’t jealous of him. He had a really depressing life. He had 4 facebook friends (the true sign of coolness), and I had only ever seen him hanging out with one person: his girlfriend – who was almost as depressing as him – and they broke up at some point, so his life must have sucked. I wasn’t jealous of him. I was confused about myself when I was around him.

Socially, I’ve never considered myself a success. I’ve never cared to be one, so that’s okay. I wear clothes I find comfortable, I am mean the first time I meet people, I don’t censor my masturbation talk. I’m not a social success. What do I have over this Jacob kid though? Not my intellect. Not my athletic abilities. But I’m definitely better. I know that. So I must be better then him somehow, and social prowess is my last avenue to blame. I don’t want to only have my social abilities to rely on to prove that I’m better than somebody. I don’t care about society. Fuck society… No. Fuck him for making me embrace society.


You Wouldn’t Expect It

I’ve watched every episode of Lost and therefore feel an obligation to comment on the shitfest that was the last episode. I have not looked at any other reviews, and just finished it on Hulu today. It was exactly what I expected: a lot of montage to cover up for the fact that nothing was really concluding. The conclusion we get to come to is that JJ Abrams has a view of time much like every sci-fi writer ever in that he thinks it’s another variable and that parallel universes help show us that. And that relationships are .. um.. important, I guess, how come Walt and Michael weren’t allowed into the church/mosque/temple/unitarian utopia? JJ Abrams doesn’t care about black people. Neither was Ana Lucia – just sayin. Love, I guess triggers a lot of emotions..? God that episode bored the shit out of my pants.

Here’s the point: People don’t expect me to be a Lost fan. I’m not really. I just like wasting my time, and Lost provides that opportunity (I’ve also watched every episode of Cougar Town). People still wouldn’t have expected me to have watched all of Lost and care about the series finale enough to have an opinion. So I will now present my views on things that people wouldn’t expect me to have views on.

This upcoming NBA summer: HELL FUCKIN’ YEAH!!!! This summer is going to be amazing! I’m a huge Jason Kidd fan, so much so that I still like the Nets. I live in Brooklyn. I like Jay-Z. The Nets have the most salary cap space this summer. Will they be able to tear LeBron away from the Knicks? I’m starting to doubt it, especially now that the Nets have the settling pick of the draft and will have to draft a PF that will be very decent. I would still love the lineup if they could coerce LeBron to my city. If they do, D-Har will average a double double, and C-Lee will have three 3pters a game. They’ll be in the playoffs with the biggest turnaround in sports history. The other cool option, which is far less likely is that the Heat are able to grab Bron-Bron and convince Wade to stick around. That might be annoying. Better move for them is Bosh or Amare. I tend to think Amare fits better into their system, and I like the idea of Wade and Amare on the same team. So where do Bosh, J.Johnson, Nowitzki (who most think will stay), Ming and the rest of the troupe end up? And will Wade stick around?

I will not offer what I think will happen, or what I want to happen as a fan of any team, but rather what I want to happen as a fan of basketball. Let’s start with the Wizards. They will be taking John Wall, which will mean that they will have Arenas and Wall in the backcourt and Blatche, McGee, and Singleton, who all looked great at the end of the season, rebounding the ball. They still need something. They have money. Take Rudy Gay. He’s good, the Wizards will be good, but they won’t be outstanding. Perfect. John Wall can try to be the next Chris Paul – it’ll be fun to watch him try. I want LeBron in Brooklyn, though it seems less and less likely. Fuck it. I want to will it. Then I want Chicago to take Wade, which leaves Amare for the Heat and let them get Joe Johnson too. Then Knicks still have to get people. I want them to take Nowitzki so they can ruin his career, or they could grab Ming, he’s boring too. Then they’ll have enough for a Raymond Felton and a Randy Foye, which is perfect, cus I don’t really like either of them, but it’ll be a good fit. They could also overpay for Josh Howard, which would work well in their plan to overpay for everybody. Bosh is still open. As much as I’d love for him to go to the Thunder, my new favorite team, he’s out of their price range. So, send him to Chicago to play with Noah. That’d be fun. So, what do the Thunder do? I want them to take K-Mart and Jermaine O’Neal. Seems weird, but here’s the thing. You can offer them both short contracts and then the Thunder would be able to rebound all of the shots that Westbrook misses, plus Jeff Green could become a 6th man, which is what he should be, and with the defensive abilities of their frontcourt they could shove Thabls;fkdf; Selafokdnvoaidlkf back into their bench and put Harden in their starting 5. He would just sit out at the 3 pt line and nail down threes when Westbrook drove in and dished it out. Perfect! The Clippers and T-Wolves have big money to spend too, as do the Rockets and Kings sorta. The T-Wolves could draft Cousins and trade away Al Jeff for someone awesome. Not sure who, but someone. How about the Rockets get Boozer, and the Clippers get JJ Barea for when B.Davis gets injured. The Clippers will still have massive money to spend after that, so Richard Jefferson – he’s still got it. The Kings can get David Lee, and then the T-Wolves have to sign some mediocre players. I like Anthony Morrow for the Wolves, and Ty Thomas. Leftover these are the people I care about JJ Redick, Haslem, Bill Walker, Ronnie Brewer, Raja, Nate Rob, Redd, Alston, Telfair, Grant Hill, Gooden, Frye, and B.Haywood. I want Telfair and Nate Rob to have starting jobs. I want Frye to go to a 3pt shooting team, probably just stay. Redd should get another chance maybe with Chitown if they still have money, and Grant Hill has looked good so leave him in Phoenix. Haywood or Haslem should go to the Hawks if it’s possible, maybe they can grab Raja or someone to replace JJ too.

This has been tiring. I don’t talk about this stuff that I like so much because it doesn’t fit into how I write – how I perform. People expect me to like the things I talk about, but I only talk about those things because they make sense. It’s a vicious cycle, but at least you won’t have to hear me talking about Lost or the NBA anymore.