Filed under: Personal Best
Stupid technology falls through in the clutch. I don’t know why this comment didn’t transfer over to the new blog, but it is probably the best thing on this entire site. Here’s how it goes:
KARI PENTUADI | KARIP@TAMPABAY.RR.COM | IP: 216.176.236.157
I DO NOT EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE AND YOU A F***ING CRAZY. THERE IS NO WAY I WENT TO SCHOOL WITH YOU 5TH-8TH GRADE BECAUSE I WENT TO PRIVATE SCHOOL 6TH-8TH. ALSO WHO ARE YOU? I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE. MAYBE YOU SHOULD GET SOME HELP!!!!! YOU ONLY NEW ME ONE YEAR MAYBE AND THAT WAS IN 5TH GRADE GET THE F*** OVER IT. ABOUT YOU COMMENT I AM REPORTING YOU TO THE AUTHORITIES! YOU REALLY REALLY NEED HELP SERIOUSLY!!!!!!!!
KARI PENTAUDI
The comment was for this post, which makes it all the more ironically fantastic.
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Man, today was pretty righteous. The weather was freakin’ amazing, warm enough for me to roll down BOTH windows, and on my way to school the radio kept playing songs with really heavy beats that sound awesome in my car’s speakers, so I’m bumpin’ down Edgewood blasting Shop Boys and T.I. So what if I look like stupid suburban white girl who’s trying to be “urban”? When it comes to blastin’ tunes with the windows down, I try to play the most taboo songs possible. Lots of hip-hop, LOTS of Michael Jackson, and I when I’m feeling teenage angst-y, I’ll play Nirvana’s “Rape Me” and time it just right so the chorus comes on when I’m stopped at a light. Muahahahahaha.
The following is perhaps the most bizarre-o encounter I have ever had with a dude. Read this first.
So the next time I worked with Peter was last Friday. Poor guy, I could not stop laughing at him! Luckily I’m known for laughing at nothing (makes me sound kind of crazy, like the bad guys in cartoons who are brooding in the corner and all of sudden start busting out in hysterics…please be assured that no brooding is going down over here), so I just kept saying “No reason!” and snickering as I walked away. Not only that, but man oh man, that night was the most intense gossip fest I have ever had in my life. If gossip where heroin, I would definitely be knocked up with a dead fetus and collapsed vein. I found out this other girl, we’ll call her Linda, was told by Evan about the whole ordeal, and she told me that Evan said that Peter would not shut up about me before they got wasted and hooked up. Hold up: you’re telling me that Peter admitted he had a thing for me, then made a move on someone else, and he was a dude? Wow. This boy has problems. So yeah, all I did at work was gossip with Mark and Linda, and laugh at Peter, and then run over to my friend Luigi and tell him everything, and laugh some more…probably the one of the cheapest and yet gratifying moments in my life. When I got off work we all went to Hooters, and luckily Peter and I were sitting at two different booths, cuz me and my friend Jacques got completely blazed before we went, and as we all know well,
Kelly + pot * other peoples’ humiliation = causing a scene
Not a big fan of that equation. Afterwards we all went back to Jacques’s apartment, and we all got WASTED. I mean, 3 cases and 4 blunts between 5 people wasted (and I was surprisingly NOT hungover the next day! I must be a goddess). Poor, poor Peter…having drunk and smoked my inhibitions away, I felt no shame in laughing at him alllllniiiiiightttlllllloonnnngggg. Well, kind of. At one point we were sitting on the couch, and he grabbed my legs and draped them over his, and I just couldn’t control myself. I probably laughed at him for AT LEAST 5 minutes straight, only pausing to take huge heaving breaths and blurt out “IamsosorryiamsorryiwishicouldstopBAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”. He kept asking me why, and god knows I wanted to tell him, partially because I wanted to stop freakin’ laughing, and because I wanted him to know that he totally majorly blew it with me, but mostly because I felt really bad for the guy. But I didn’t. I stuck firm and strong to my “I laugh at everything for no reason” bit, and I’m kind of proud of myself, considering how cracked out on gossipium I was at work (get it? gossip + opium = gossipium. 2 points for the Shuffs). He would not keep his hands off me though, and the attention was nice, so I let him. Don’t get me wrong, there was no kissing and definitely no boob-touchage, but it was nice to cuddle with someone on the couch. (GODDAMNIT why can’t I find someone to do that with on a regular basis?!) So that was Friday.
Sunday I received 3 important phone calls. First Mark called to say Evan had been fired by our gay manager Johnny for “creating a hostile work environment,” which I say is bullshit because he did the same goddamn thing to a straight boy a year and a half ago. Then Johnny calls me himself to say tell me he fired Evan, and that he would fire anyone else if they ever brought it up again, that this boy might be confused and could kill himself or someone else over it (ha stupid drama queen), blah blah blah bullshit bullshit bullshit. I personally think he fired Evan because he has a crush on Peter himself. So then I get the best call ever from Evan. He told me EVERYTHING…about how they talked about me for about 30 minutes, and how he told Peter what he knew about me and gave him advice on how to approach me, and then how they starting drinking a lot and they were out on Peter’s deck and how Peter started rubbing all on Evan’s shoulders and neck, and that they went back inside and cuddled on the couch while watching t.v., and Peter suddenly decided to go to bed and Evan was like “So where am I going to sleep?” and Evan invited him to stay in his bed–WITH HIM IN IT–and gave him some shorts to sleep in, and how they were laying in bed and all of a sudden Peter’s legs were on top of Evan’s, and I quote, “He got a little head after that.” GROSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!! Not gross because its gay, gross because I could have kissed this kid the night before and penis in my own mouth is disgusting, let alone penis in the mouth I’m kissing. He didn’t elaborate on whether or not Peter blew him, but he did take extra special care to emphasize that they never butt fucked. Gee, thanks. I was almost worried for a minute there. Now, being as exceptionally secure with my sexuality as I am, and while trying to exercise the greatest level of tolerance to this situation that I could, I decided to use this encounter between Peter and Evan to my advantage, and actually asked Evan if Peter was a good kisser. Oh yeah. I am the shit. I was very disappointed with Evan’s response. He was really vague, and acted like he was suddenly being distracted by something, and finally he was like, “I might have kissed him right before we went to sleep, but he was practically passed out, so I don’t know.” My translation: NO. I don’t think Evan had the heart to out Peter like that…enough to out his gayness, not enough to out his lameness. Oh well. At least I saved myself the emotional turmoil of dating a bad kisser. That shit sucks. Worked with Peter the next night, and I couldn’t figure out if he knew I knew. He kept making the same gay jokes with the other dudes at work, just like he always had, but this time I got really uncomfortable. Especially when he’d walk up and start rubbing my shoulders right after words. MAKE UP YOUR GODDAMN MIND ALREADY. Sheesh.
The next day I called Luigi to see what he was doing, and he said a bunch of people were out his house getting ready to go to the pool and cook out. Meh to the pool, fuck yeah to cooking out. Peter wound up buying a shit ton of food and beer, and we were all drinking and smoking from about 6 that afternoon til 4 am. I guess Peter decided to put on the gayness extra thick that night, because when he, Luigi and I were sitting on Luigi’s porch smoking cigarettes, out of NOWHERE he goes, “Hey Luigi…remember when we made out last night?” I didn’t say anything, but inside I was going “Wha-wha-WHAAAT?!?!” like Kyle’s mom on South Park when the boys tell her not to electrocute Terrance and Phillip. WHY in the HELL would you say that in front of me? Are you trying to prove something? Because you’re not a badass who happens to be very secure with his sexuality. You’re an asshole. If Luigi were a girl, you’d be lucky if I still talked to you, especially after the way you flirt with me. I pulled Luigi aside later that night, and he was like, “Uhhhh, I don’t really remember…wait…we were all dancing, me and Peter and Chad and Mark (sexuality recap: Luigi is bi, Chad and Mark are gay, and Peter is fucked up), dancing really close, kind of grinding on each other–we were WASTED–and then we went into my room and Mark was like, ‘You guys should change clothes,’ so we went in my closet and started laughing at how stupid he was and then all of a sudden we started kissing.” OH. HELLLLLLLL. NO. Now I’m pissed. Its one thing for you to have a random drunk hookup. Its kind of another thing if its with someone of the same sex, but I’m willing say that it isn’t. But its definitely NOT OK to make out with someone of the same sex who is one of my closest friends at the same place we work at and then for you to continue flirting with me like a straight dude. Now I feel like you’ve been fucking with my head this whole time, that you were completely insincere, and I am a fool for thinking otherwise. Do not touch me anymore. Fuck off. Of course I don’t say these things, I do what most girls do, and that’s turn into a stone-cold bitch and ignore you like a hooker’s burning sensation. So eventually he comes up to me and asks what gives, and Luigi is in the room, and I look directly at Peter and then directly at Luigi and am like, “I can’t.” Now he knows what’s up. He tells Luigi to leave the room, and here’s our conversation:
Me: Uggghhhh, you’re not going to make me say it, are you?
Peter: Yep.
Me: UGGGGHHH, but is so obvious. Come on!!
Peter: Just say it.
Me: Fine. Evan.
Peter: FINE THEN if its going to be like that. You can believe whatever you believe, blah blah blah super defensive attitude blah blah blah.
Me: Look, it makes no difference to me what happened between you too, or even who it was with. I’m not dating you, you owe me nothing, but you can’t honestly expect me to not take it into consideration. And then that whole thing with Luigi–I don’t know what the fuck that was all about–same thing, it makes no difference to me who it was with, but put it all together and it tells me that you’re not really serious about me.
Peter: What are you talking about?
Me: I mean, I’m not looking for a fuck buddy. I need someone who’s going to be serious about me, and there’s no way you can be if you’re running around hooking up with other people.
Peter: I really want to take you out on a date.
(Great timing, buddy, btw. You should do fucking improv or something.)
Me: Yeah, about that…probably not going to happen.
Peter: But I really wanted to date you!
Me: I’m sorry, Peter, but its not going to happen. I’ve been burned pretty badly by dudes in the past–
Peter (while getting up and storming out of the room): HA! You’ve been burned (all sarcastic like)?!?!
Man, fuck you. You don’t know me. I can pretty much guarantee you that no girl hurt you badly enough to attempt suicide and eventually force you into rehab, so I don’t want to fucking hear it. AND you’re acting like a little baby, storming off like that, so now you don’t have zero chance, you’ve got negative chance. Negative 100 to be exact. A pervy moustached child molester has better chances than you. Goddamn immature ho. Whoa. Sorry. This is just really traumatizing for me…I’ve had slutty dudes try to date me before, but never slutty bisexuals. If I can even call him that. I still can’t shake the thought that I was going to be his gay cover up, which totally pisses me off. Goddamn manipulative douche-monger. How you gonna fuck with someone’s emotions like that? I shouldn’t be surprised, though. He was totally too perfect a match. Aquarius. Graduated from IB. Goes to GA Tech. Catholic. Looks like the kid in my dream when I was 13. All he had to have was a 8″ donger and millions stashed in a trust fund and I’d marry him on the spot. BUT THAT’S NOT ALL! So now that Peter knows what’s up, I decide to egg him on. He’s way more drunk than me, so of course I’m taking advantage of it. At one point he and Luigi were standing around, and I look up at them and am like, “You guys should totallymake out. Right now.” AND THEY DID! AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! No tongue, and it only was like 3 or 5 seconds, but it was definitely more than a peck BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA and then they all started dancing again, Luigi, Peter, and this other guy Andy (straight with a girlfriend, but I bet its only weeks before that restaurant turns him gay, too), and I swear to god it was just like Thursday night at the Masquerade. I watched those boys grind on the train headed straight for Homoville. It was fantastic. Now I’m not pissed, because now I understand you’re no different from the college freshman who gets wasted at her first frat party and makes out with other girls to get guy’s attention. I pity you. I wonder how much shit I can get you to do with other dudes every time you get drunk. Muahahahahahaha.
i’ve been doing some thinking lately. maybe too much thinking, but it finally got me to the place where i wanted to be: coming to terms with the mistakes i’ve made, understanding that NOTHING is the end of the world, that everything can be looked at from the perspective of “this is just a new challenge that i will have to struggle with and overcome”. for a minute there i was terrified of my future, because it was so uncertain, and it suddenly became far more uncertain than i wanted it to be. nothing scares me like not knowing what’s going to happen next. maybe that’s why i’m so fascinated by biblical prophets, because they know the future in the way i intensely want to know it. unfortunately, i’m not a biblical prophet, believe it or not, and so decided i can either spend the rest of my life with a haunting fear of the future, or i can embrace the present moment and know that i’m fully capable of overcoming everything and anything that gets thrown at me. that’s not to say i haven’t been hit with a reality check. its just that if things don’t turn out the way i want them, ok then. i can handle that. i played with fire and i got burned…but burns don’t insist upon death, they just blister up and i might have a super gross wound for a bit, but it will heal and i’ll have a totally awesome scar in its place and a good story that goes along with it. the difference between this scar and all of my other scars is that i honestly have not once blamed anyone else for this but myself. i accept total responsibility, and i don’t think you can learn from your mistakes at all when you’re spending any time blaming anyone else. and i reflected upon what direction my life was going, and i like that direction, but it definitely needs some modifications…which include not fronting an image to other people because i’m too afraid/tired/insecure to be honest about who i really am. i’ve gotten really good at making people think i am what i think they want me to be, and obviously that’s not working for me. and i’m sure this “new me” will incur repercussions, since there inevitably are some things about me that people will misunderstand, but its not my responsibility to make them understand. i can’t make them understand. i can’t make anyone do anything. and i know there are decisions i’ve made/will make that people won’t like, but christ if i keep thinking about what others’ opinions are about my decisions, i’m never going to be happy, because deep down i’ll always regret not living my life for myself. this is really hard, folks, because when i say “people”, i’m generally referring to my family, and it seems wrong to me to include them in the category of people whose opinions should not effect my own, but i have to. and family, i mean this in no disrespect, and i feel the utmost gratitude for your help and support as of late, and if this really pisses you off, i guess so be it, although i really really hope it doesn’t, and that is NOT what i’m trying to do. and if it does, it will be another consequence and another challenge, but i’m ready to finish growing up, and i can’t do that if i’m being weighed down with worries about what you’ll think. i don’t think this will piss you off, and yet i don’t think you’ll agree with and go along with all of my decisions, which is completely your right and prerogative. i hope that you’ll see the big picture the way i see it, and not spend so much time looking at the flawed brush strokes. and if you can’t/don’t see the big picture, i hope that you’ll trust that all of my decisions are geared towards creating a masterpiece.
Today, while wasting away precious hours of my life that I can never regain (also known as working), I learned that Simon Pegg, more famously known for his role in “Shaun of the Dead,” was the photo booth zombie in “Land of the Dead” AND a zombie hunter in “Danger! 50,000 Zombies!” Not to say that I actually remember the photo booth zombie, but its interesting nonetheless, because zombies are always interesting. Not to mention the fact that this dude seems to have an affinity for zombie movies, which is quite admirable, to say the least.
(And I don’t care what you say Dan, there’s nothing that will convince me that its a better idea to camp out in the Home and Garden section of Wal-Mart than to turn into a zombie. I can go to Wal-Mart whenever I want. Meh. No biggie. I brush my shoulders off. Yet my question for you is: how many chances do you get to become a zombie? Maybe I would first do the survival thing, because I could always change my mind later on, since there’s no turning back if I zombify right away. But I mean, come on. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! Carpe diem, my friend. I gotta live on the EDGE, and if that means transforming into ravenous, flesh-hungry, rotting corpse that unmercifully kills and consumes even one’s own family members, so be it.)
But I digress…
Today I was inspired. I now want to meet professional zombie actor (and I’m totally adding that to my MySpace) and become his apprentice. This could prove to be a potentially lucrative career. I mean, superior zombie fright consists of 2 parts make-up, 1 part acting. Not many get that one part down right, so specializing in it would make me, well, special. And its not like people will be like, “Oh, there’s that one zombie actor. AGAIN” because that 2 parts make-up gives a lot of room for modification. Just make me green instead of gray and have half my skull crushed in instead of my complete lower jaw missing, and no one will suspect a thing. NO ONE.
Zombie acting has to be the hardest acting out there. Its like the blackface of the undead (minus the gratuitous racism), since both consist of actors pretending to be something they can never actually be. Think about the complexity of it: a living person portraying a walking corpse. That’s hungry for brains. Cheerleader brains, specifically. And that’s also very fast, because let’s face it, the “Dawn of the Dead” remake changed revolutionized the way we look at zombies. Say good-bye to the slow-moving drones of the “Night of the Living Dead” era who can be dodged and easily destroyed. Those fuckers were fast! Shit, one of them had no arms and was swinging from the pipes in a parking garage!!! (Again, I totally disagree with you Dan about that not being such a big deal because since he has no legs, he has less weight to hold up. That’s a badass zombie with a monster manly nutsack. And trust me, because I happen to know a thing or two about monster manly zombie nutsacks.) Once my zombie acting master feels I am ready, I will debut in a movie where a nuclear war turns half the planet into zombies, and just as the living people are starting to rebuild their lives (kind of like in “Land of the Dead”), EL NIÑO STRIKES!!! and electromagnetically scrambles the planet, subsequently turning all the zombies into MEGA CRACKHEAD SUPER FAST ZOMBIES!!!! Chaos ensues, someone gets ripped into little human fillets o’ flesh, and everyone dies at the end. Even the children. And pets. And folks with Down’s.
Sorry. That’s just how El Niño rolls.
And no love story sub-plots allowed. Fuck that bullshit. (But there still will be lots of boobies)
(DISCLAIMER: if you read this and have the funds and the connections to realize my dream, and the storyline just described becomes an actual film, be prepared for a full on lawsuit/assassination/paternity test. I better get my royalties/head on a platter/child support, bitch.)
