KRUM LIFE DOT COM

SeeThroughNY

2010-03-09T20:34:00.004-05:00

In the continuing quest in increase transparency in government, The Empire Center For New York State Policy has created SeeThroughNY, a search engine to view public payrolls, contracts and expenditures for all of New York. Clearly, this site exists for one sole reason:

TO FUCK WITH HIGH SCHOOL TEACHERS

I may be too old for this, but younger readers, GO FORTH! THINK OF THE IMPLICATIONS!

"Well, Ms. Armstrong, I would answer finish that problem on the board but in 2009 you cleared $110,968 + Oxford health Benefits...so why don't you waddle your fat ass up there and earn your keep, hmm?"

Oh man, I'd go back to high school for two reasons only

1. To seduce my principal and bend her over her desk ( Hey, it's only fair. I did get my ass beat on campus under her watch, remember?)

2. To determine just how in the fuck my gym teacher almost makes 150K, he didn't even let us play dodgeball

Galifianakis is a funny motherfucker

2010-03-09T20:30:00.001-05:00

Excerpt from a recent family meal

2010-03-03T17:27:00.003-05:00

My parents and I are naively attempting to expand our cultural horizons by engaging in a meal at a lovely Peruvian restaurant.

It is dimly lit, sparsely decorated and packed to the gills with fast-speaking South Americans who, conversely, probably wouldn't deem themselves worldly if they ate our fare- Ben's Deli and what have you.

Most entrees have indecipherable names and contain squid ink as source of flavor.

My father and I begin to give up on the alien menus.

So, naturally the conversation turns to "Who's a bigger pussy?"

Me: You're definitely the bigger pussy.

Dad: You think so, but in fact, I believe you are.

Me: Elaborate.

Dad: Well, you talk a lot more shit, but in reality, you're not a confrontative person. So when you put yourself in that position, you begin to freak out because you know deep down you don't wanna be in that position to fight. I know it's not in my nature to fight, so I never put myself in that position.

Me:...................What about doggy style, what about that position?

Dad: *takes a sip of wine* Well, I never have problem with that position.

*We high five*

Mom: What?

Fin!

More Shits in More Places

2010-02-23T00:13:00.003-05:00

I'm gonna let you in on a little trend that has been slowly infiltrating the psyche of my male peers since the advent of multi-media messaging.

I'm assuming men around the world are also silently engaged in this bitter war for the supreme crown of ultimate masculinity.

Their means of conveyance? the camera phone.

The endless question?

WHO TAKES THE BIGGEST SHITS OF OUR BOYS?

Ladies-your boyfriend, brother, or biology teacher is MMS-ing pictures of his bowel movements to his friends to prove just who does the most work on the toilet.

Fucking weird, I know.

Somehow there is a correlation between the bigger the bowel movement and the bigger set of balls.

I don't know how this started, but sporadically i will receive a text or BBM of photographed feces. The unmoving mass often resembles a fallen tree trunk across the River Ganges. Or a sleeping manatee.

The most disturbing part? I know I'm not the only one. Not too long ago, they made a South Park episode about it

So in natural Krum fashion, I felt the need to elevate and dominate.

One day, after a particularly gallant evening at 5 Guys Burgers and Fries, I lost about 3 lbs to my porcelain Toto.
As I checked the health of the mass ( don't we all?) I noticed that the four or five segments seemed to float in serial order, from smallest to largest.

THEY LOOKED EXACTLY LIKE THE ATT "MORE BARS IN MORE PLACES" AD

NOT ONLY WAS THIS THE LARGEST, BUT DEFINITELY THE MOST ARTISTIC!

BRAVO!

So naturally, I had BBM a snapshot to my trusty comrade Matt.

Even more naturally, I was to quick with my track-ball and accidentally sent exhibit D (for doodie!) to the name under Matt's.

MOLLY.

She's avoided eye contact with me ever since.

Regardless, the battle is real. and it's the shit.

Happy Valentine's Day

2010-02-14T17:55:00.001-05:00

Another Moment in My Everlasting Crusade Against Marijuana

2010-02-11T00:19:00.002-05:00

So a friend of mine was in my apartment late at night.

Like most men who are in my apartment past midnight, he was stoned to the point of immobilization, and in desperate search for food.

So like the compassionate companion I am, I set my prejudices against the high while hungry aside.

I gave him one sole instruction in order to get what he desired.

I warned my friend, who we'll just call...Spencer, not to make a big mess.

We all know the power of THC, how it can make a competent person into a helpless, high baby leaving crumbs and empty juice boxes everywhere.

And I fucking hate that.

So I told Spencer I'd monitor him, but first I had to take a piss.

I went to the bathroom and when I returned there he was:

DIPPING TORTILLA CHIPS INTO GLOBS OF QUESO SAUCE, USING MY KITCHEN COUNTER AS A PLATE.

HE WAS SO HIGH HE BELIEVED THAT WAS ACCEPTABLE.

I looked at him, he looked at me, and began laughing at his own malfeasance.

Enraged, I cracked him in the arm, and he went down like a stupid, high baby.

Queso off the counter...Jesus...

The Fun Dinner

2010-02-08T23:48:00.003-05:00

Pardon the recent lack of content, but due to my "live life" doctrine of this semester (go out, stop pondering my fate), I just haven't had the urge to vomit emotions into the Times New Roman format.

Until today.

With Valentine's Day approaching. I wanted to tell a story about love. Real love. Not love like when I thanked that girl for swallowing my semen

I once had a girlfriend, whom I loved very much.

Sure, we had our mutual infidelities, and yes I was the perpetrator 80% of time, but hey, it was high school.

Plus, bitches loved the jewfro.

Anyway, she was relatively perfect. Put up with my fragile mental state, appreciated my acerbic tounge, did doggy, etc.

But there was one moment that signified the start our ending. You may see it as a minor infraction, but to me it was much more.

It was my freshmen year of college, and she came to visit me.

The first night of her visit, I took her to a fancy nightclub. I bought a VIP bottle, she danced on my table, and all was right with the world.

Until the next day. I was exhausted and hungover from the evening previous, and attempted to spend the day recovering in my dorm bed.

She was growing increasingly antsy and kept asking me to go out and do things- "let's go to the beach, do you want to go for a walk etc"

For the most part, I ignored her pleas for entertainment and repeatedly explained that I wasn't feeling well. Until the last one.

"Well..can we at least go out tonight and do like a fun dinner?"

"Huh?"

"You know...like, a nice, fun dinner?"

"I don't follow."

"Like, when I was in Miami with my parents, we went to Prime 112 and Barton G, like, cool, fun dinners!"

I waded through her bullshit to understand what she really meant.

She didn't want a fun dinner at a fun restaurant. She wanted to go to an expensive dinner at a trendy restaurant. Therefore, she could see a celebrity or athlete and tell people back home. I cringed and remembered how she boasted about seeing A-Rod at Prime the year before when she was on vacation with her parents.

Furthermore, she was not satisfied with the bottle-buying exploits the night before, and wanted her freshmen boyfriend, who didn't even have a car, to continue splurging and sate her appetite for excess.

I rose my head from my pillow.

"No."
"Okay, but c-"
"Let's just enjoy our time together, okay?"
"Okay, I jus-"
"Good."

I was very hurt, albeit not sure why, and the rest of the trip was rather awkward.

We broke up little more than a year after.
I know there is no clear correlation but things seemed to fall apart after that.

Now I don't condone violence against women (unless she REALLY won't shut the fuck up), but if your girlfriend ever goads you to take her to a fun dinner, you should give her a fun slap in the face, because she isn't the one, jack.

Just kidding.

Also, for the record, my parents are coming this weekend, and I plan on going to the most fun of dinners, at Prime 112.

Whodat?

If she's not dead, I'd ask her to hang out

2010-02-08T20:45:00.001-05:00

Remember these?

American Psycho: The Musical

2010-02-04T00:13:00.003-05:00

American Psycho: The Musical!

Posted using ShareThis

Fuck Green Day, I'll see this though. For sure.

To this day when someone tells me they ate somewhere fancy or went to a sexy nightclub
I dismiss them with "no one goes there anymore"

What's in a name...

2010-02-01T23:14:00.002-05:00

My boy's parents are getting divorced.

As a result, there has been some relative estrangement between father and son, especially on the topic of my friend's dad moving forward in his love life.

My friend is a tad resentful towards the idea of his dad playing the 50+ field.

He summed it up quite nicely for me

"I was on the phone with my dad today, and he told me that he has
a) he has a girlfriend
and
b) my aunt and uncle got a new dog.
So I asked him the dog's name. After hanging up, I realized I had not asked him his girlfriend's."

Ah, love.

Adventures with Chatroulette

2010-01-24T23:13:00.004-05:00

When robots eventually outsmart us and annihilate the entire human population, robot-children will learn about the history of man's communicational achievements (most likely during third period at Steve Jobs Robot Middle School 3.0 OS X).

Sadly, whenever the Robo-Teacher runs through the puny Homo sapiens' long list of breakthroughs, it will no doubt have to remind the Robo-Pupils that 99% of our communcation-based inventions led to new and exciting ways to get one's self off.

In the 1970s, party hotlines were all the rage, enabling anyone to pick up a phone and be romanced with heavy breathing and squishy noises

The 1990s brought us chat rooms, opening the door to text-based erotic adventures and eventually, Chris Hansen.

and now in 2010, Chatroulette

Chatroulette allows users to randomly video chat each other, yielding fascinating results each time you click the "Next" button.

Within five minutes of logging on, I conversed with a 17-year-old girl from Norway, insulted a Senegalese couple, and clicked past 30 NAKED MEN MASTURBATING.
I heard about the site yesterday and it only had about 6000 members active, yet around 50 percent of my chats were comprised of such atrocities.

It's amazing how fast new technology becomes a vessel for debauchery.

Yet I was immediately hooked by how easily I could dismiss someone and meet the next random e-weirdo.

Conversely, I was flustered by how I was forced to capture my random chat partner's attention or face cancellation.
And with the constant danger of seeing another naked fat guy stroke his pixelated cock,
I remained clicking through the darkest underbelly of humanity for about three hours.

I highly recommend spinning the Chatroulette wheel at least once.
Its like channel-surfing the most disturbing television ever.

FLIRTING WITH HOT BITCHES IN FRESH WHIPS

2010-01-23T16:16:00.006-05:00

She was literally panting over me

Racist? I say less of my shots blocked. Kudos!

2010-01-21T00:16:00.001-05:00

Whites Only Basketball League Plans To Hit Georgia

The sad thing is some parent will actually try this

2010-01-17T23:47:00.001-05:00

5 reasons why wrestling is wretarded

2010-01-14T21:53:00.002-05:00

Last evening, I stumbled upon a broadcast of World Wrestling Entertainment's WWE Smackdown.

I had not watched wrestling since my youth, when I would stay up late to catch WWF: Raw and quench my prepubescent thirst for blood and breasts. Female breasts…not Rikishi’s.

Although the evening's program was rife with all the essential wrestling elements I had cherished, (steel chairs to the face, pyrotechnic explosions, spandex trunks with the wrestler's name emblazoned on the ass) I became painfully aware that Vince McMahon (and the subsequent McMahonsters) have done little to heighten the realism of their product. Shocking, I know.

In other words, the same dumbshit storylines I found dubious as a 10-year-old fan were even more glaringly ridiculous a decade later.
Regardless, I’d like to commemorate the subtle reasons why wrestling was, and will always be, for re-res.

5. The "Company” Storylines
You know, for a purportedly savvy businessman, Vince McMahon never seemed to get a hold of his own business. Major positions in the WWE seemed to constantly change hands based on a 3-count pin.
“McMahon, last week at Summerslam, I beat you down to the mat, and as the contract stipulates, I am now the majority shareholder of the company and you have been demoted to Commissioner of Overseas Operations, MWAHAHA!”
I would question Stone Cold Steve Austin’s credentials to head major portions of my corporation, much less how to fit that name on a one of those triangular-prism-desk-plate things.

4. The Manager
I personally never understood the need for a manager when you’re a fake athlete. Yet managers have always have had a prominent role in the WWE. From nodding dramatically as their client delivers a backstage promo to interfering in a match by throwing magic powder in the referees’ eyes, they’ve been there for far more than ensuring merchandising rights. Oh, and some even employed cunning business practices to ensure the victory of their prized workhorses. PUPPIES!!!!

3. The Referee
Even more useless than the manager, was the referee. WHAT FUCKING RULES ARE BEING ENFORCED HERE ??
“Listen Rock, there are to be no chair shots below the belt, or a technical foul is in order.”
Not only did WWE zebras always have a habit of losing/regaining consciousness at the most opportune times, but they were also way too easily distracted by aforementioned managers and tag team partners. Between concussions and ADD there were some major health issues concerning the refs of the WWF (see how I went back to wwF for the rhyme scheme there?)
People chastised Tim Donaghy for poor officiating, try Earl Hebner!

2. The Entrance Theme
I must applaud the quick thinking of the engineering team at the WWE. Even when The Undertaker unexpectedly appeared ringside to interfere in a match, they had his theme song cued up. I recall one episode of Raw when Test and Stephanie McMahon were getting married (in-ring, no less) and as Test walked down the ramp of the Titantron (to be married…yes), with his entrance theme blaring through the arena…really. I wonder if this rule applied to all aspects of life. Was the theme song played prior to intercourse? Well, for Val Venis I’m sure it did.

1. This

See with the NFL, at least I don’t have to hear Chad Ochocinco talk. Except when I do.

Dead Parents Just Don't Understand

2010-01-11T21:32:00.004-05:00

2002

I'm in seventh grade. A classmate and I are chatting about our plans for the weekend while feigning to complete busywork for the substitute teacher.

Classmate: So... are you gonna go to Alanna's bat-mitzvah Saturday?

Me: Ugh...I really don't want to...I think I'm just going to tell her my mom died or some shi-

I'm met with a blank stare.
I feel a searing pain in my forehead as I recall that THIS KID'S MOM DIED FROM CANCER A YEAR EARLIER.

Me: UMM... I MEAN... I'M JUST GONNA TELL HER MY GRANDMA DIE- I MEAN I'M GONNA..OH FUCK IT!

I get up, yank my backpack off my chair and walk out of class. I head towards the buses not concerned with the fact that I have two more periods left before school is out.

2010
I'm sitting in a friend of a friend's apartment. Our host assures us that he has three hot girls coming over. When the girls arrive, I am immediately disturbed by the smallest one, who is Birkenau-thin and wearing what appears to be a mesh washcloth.

The group delves into sophisticated topics of discussion like "Who had the best BAC to GPA ratio last semester?" and
"Why Arizona girls are the 'chillest'"
(according to one of the Future Female Leaders of America, it's because "like, they have money, but they're not jappy, like, they smoke mad weed and take E and just chill, y'know?")

Regardless of my frustration, I'm fixated on the small one, who eventually catches on.

"WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT? WHEN ARE WE GOING TO TENJUNE? DO YOU HAVE A CIGARETTE??"

I absorb the question and take a deep breath.

"How old are you, sweetheart?"

"17..DO YOU HAVE A CIGARETTE OR NOT I'M FUCKING DYING!!"

Again I try to ignore the fact that my head is going to explode, leaving gray matter all over this kid's lovely 2-bedroom.

"Let me ask you something, does your mother see what you wear before you leave your house?"

There's a brief pause.

She fails to respond and the stimulating intellectual discourse resumes. When I look up from my Blackberry (2 new BBMS!)....

she's gone.

I turn to one of the girl's friends.
"Hey..where did she go?"
"Huh?"
"Your friend..where did she go"
"I don't know..whatever..."
"I asked her if her mom approves of that washcloth thing she's wearing and now she's gone."
"Ohhh...yea her mom died..she's kinda like, sensitive about it...whatever"
"WHAT THE FUCK????"
"Do you have a cigarette?"

End

On to the Next one

2010-01-07T10:15:00.008-05:00

Masonic imagery, Bamphomets, Joker/Crow-lookin white boys and lots of drippy shit>

I would love to drip paint on a 10 million dollar Damien Hirst crtysal skull.

Or tag a Jaguar with three white stripes of paint.

Then have the paint cleaned off, and drive it up and down Northern BLVD for all to see.

*sigh*

I outsourced my birthday wishes to my father by what else? INDIAN TELEMARKETERS

2010-01-06T17:35:00.003-05:00

http://www.mediafire.com/?fhyrfuqwmdk
http://www.mediafire.com/?fhyrfuqwmdk

They help you with your cable modem, they help you with your emotions

Daps to Richman

Classic

2010-01-06T10:59:00.002-05:00

classic LD rockin Jordan VIs.

I don't know why he didn't bring out the Space Jams last season

He would have Danny Duberstined the fuck out of them.

Definitely would freshen up the corduroys and blazer look.

The Man-Moment, Part 2

2009-12-28T21:12:00.003-05:00

Across from the main entrance of my high school is what students refer to as “The Hill”; an off-campus street with about three decrepit homes where students who could not find a spot on at school grounds (and were too stubborn get a ride that morning) parked.

The school warned students not to park there as it was not under it’s carefully guarded jurisdiction.

The plan was for my friend Tracey to drive me from the campus parking lot to get my car, which naturally, was parked at The Hill that day.

I didn’t get my license until October of senior year, so fuck it, I was driving everywhere.

As Tracey and I walked to her car in the senior parking lot, I literally felt the sense of impending doom kick me in the balls.

I couldn’t help but notice a beaten-up compact parked haphazardly in the middle of the lot.

“THERE HE IS!”

Immediately, what seemed like eight hoodlums, (with Blind Kid in tow) emerged from the shit-box on wheels in full attack mode.

These kids (men) charged at me while simultaneously hurling insults:
“WHAT NIGGA? SPIT IN MY FACE NIGGA?
“WHAT U GONNA DO U RICH FAGGOT?”

The phalanx surrounded me, with the Blind Kid in front, confident among his derelict goons.

“YOU SPIT IN MY BOY’S FACE?" One of the degenerates barked.

He was the only other one I recognized.
He had graduated the year prior.
I was glad to see he was doing well.

I put my hands up and took a deep breath.

“Listen, I was looking for him…I was gonna apologize, it was wrong and stup-”

I immediately felt the sting of a right hand against my face.
I guess they didn’t want the day to be a total loss.

As I got shoved against the chain link fence that surrounded the lot, I heard an elderly assistant teacher scold the savages.

“STOP! YA GONNA GET SUSPENDED!!” She warned them.

“THEY NOT STUDENTS, YOU DUMB BITCH!” I managed to reply.

Even in the heat of battle, I maintain high spirits.

The former Jericho student kicked me in the abdomen and my knees buckled.

As I proceeded to get stomped out I looked up and noticed a girl from school cheering the men on. I think she was the ex-student’s girlfriend or something.

I guess she was the Taylor Swift in the bleachers. I then felt the precipitation of 6 underprivileged kids' saliva hit my face and neck.

Finally, some fellow students (who I am eternally grateful towards, Mosie I see you.) broke up the scene.

I dusted myself off and watched the goon-squad flee, still shouting from their jalopy. One of them called me a “pussy-ass -bitch nigga” or something of the sort.

Tracey asked if I wanted to go to my car. I told her no, I had better plans.

I kicked open the door of Ms. Boyles office.

It would have been awesome to catch her snorting cocaine or fucking a student, but she was just on her computer. She noticed my bewilderment.

“YOU’RE GONNA SUSPEND ME? WELL I JUST GOT JUMPED ON YOUR FUCKING CAMPUS.”

“What? Who did it?”

“I don’t know...a bunch of mexicans…I think…the blind kid was there…But WHAT THE FUCK??”

Ms. Boyle took out her trusty walkie-talkie.

“I want a search of campus grounds for any unauthorized persons”

The walkie began to garble something back.

“Um...There’s a bunch of kids surrounding Evan Krumholz’s car on The Hill”

“WHAT THE FUCK BOYLE???”

My stomach was literally attempting to secede from my body.

“Calm down,” she said. We’re gonna have to call your parents, Matthew and-

“Who?”

“”The blind kid’, Evan, ‘the blind kid’…and the police”

*sigh*

As I sat in Boyle’s office waiting for the other guests to arrive, I closed my eyes and mentally rewound the events of the day. I also added cool bonus features, like audio commentary!

Why the fuck did I ever listen to Niles?

What was I trying to prove?

Why did that kid keep calling me a “rich, pussy ass nigga” when I’m clearly Caucasian and upper-middle class?

Every few minutes I’d feel my inner thigh buzz from text messages like:

“yooo WTF happened??”

and

“hahahahahhaha YO U FINALLY STOOD UP FOR URSELF MANN!!”

I was too embarrassed to reply to them.

Then my dad entered the room.

The man who had invested immeasurable time, money and energy to raise me to be a respectful and compassionate human being now had the privilege of hearing just how his failed experiment of a son dehumanized a disabled person.

I kept my head down.

When Mrs. Boyle went to get the Blind Kid and the cops from downstairs my Dad looked at me, arms outstretched and in a hushed tone whispered,

“What the fuck…on Rosh Hashanah? The fuck, Evan”

Oh! That’s right, tonight we were to eat dinner with family friends to celebrate the Jewish New Year. Well, I guess “Don’t spew expectorate in blind kids’ faces is my number one resolution…”

The police escorted Stevie Wonder into the room.

Essentially, we did a cop-dictated “Now shake hands!” and swore there would be no further retaliation.

We both received no disciplinary action, and I refused to press charges.

“It’s a raw deal, it’s but a fair deal” Boyle said.

I thought about the raw deal I’d like to give her.

So that was that. There was no retaliation and I never saw him again.

Clearly, he never saw me again.

Heh.

However, the girl who cheered on my beating would make loogie-hocking noises at me when I’d walk by in the hall…..and that always kind of frightened me.

The rest of that day was a blur. I saw my psychologist (finally I had shit to talk about) and ate Rosh Hashanah dinner at the Rosenfeld's in silence.

I had my man-moment.
It lasted only a...yea you got it.
But I forever know how asinine such a display is.
Since, I have resisted the "Bro I'll snuff you out" talk.
because I actually did get snuffed.
and spat on.
and called the n-word

About a week ago, I was in a bar and I saw a kid who wronged me in the past. I wanted to break a bottle over his head but I resisted. Who knows, he could have had autism or something.

The End, you faggot!

The Man-Moment

2009-12-24T23:28:00.003-05:00

The Man Moment: Part 1
“Like I'm gonna stand here as a man/
and let some queer-ass, funny-looking nigga get the upper hand.”
- Obie Trice, “We All Die One Day”

There is a moment in every man’s life where he has an unstoppable urge to establish dominance.

This genetic omnipresence has been embedded in the male psyche ever since we emerged from the primordial soup to go scoop cave-sluts.

The trait has never changed, only the times. In centuries past, we dueled and jousted to prove who was the leader of the wolf pack.

Now most conflicts come to fruition by yelling into your cell phone with threatening proclamations, such as
“BRO, DON’T TALK SHIT CAUSE I’VE GOT MAD BACK AND WE’LL STOMP YOU OUT…BUT THERE’S NO BEEF…BUT IF THERE WAS ME AND MY BOYS WILL COME THROUGH AND PUT IT ALL ON THE LINE CAUSE YOU HOOKED UP WITH MY BOY’S BOY’S GIRL. WE DIE FOR THAT SHIT!”

Chivalry! Omerta`! My Boys Are Jacked And Will Fuck You Up!

During my senior year of high school, I experienced one of these "man-moments” and paid dearly.

In other words, I took my 50 Cent-fueled machismo to the next level and got my ass beat, yielding hilarious results for you, all three loyal readers, and embarrassing consequences for me: an Angry Young Man who thought he was a Big Shot who could not handle Pressure. Yea, I write to a Billy Joel mix…so what, faggot? Besides, I’ve become more Billy and less 50.

SEPTEMBER 2006

After a tragic car accident in our high school parking lot, seniors were barred from leaving campus grounds for lunch, a traditional rite of passage for upperclassmen.
So, in an attempt to quell the Unstoppable Senior Ego, the administration commissioned a “Senior Lounge”: An outdoor seating area adjacent to the main cafeteria, privy to seniors only, guarded by a teacher assigned to lunch duty. It was little noon nightclub complete with a faux bouncer. It was our private Pandora. Free of underclassmen intrusion.

Until one day.

My 17-year old cohorts and I spent our lunch period like we did any other; arguing over important issues like “Who can shotgun the most beers of our boys?” and “How many bitches does Lebron probably average per week?”

Until we were interrupted.

By Him.

A junior.

In the senior lounge.

Recklessly chatting away on his Nextel.

THE AUDACITY! THE IGNORANCE! THE NEXTEL CHIRPING NOISE!

My friend, let’s call him…Niles…commenced the instigation that worked so well on me during my younger years:

“YO KRUM…LOOK AT THAT KID…TELL HIM TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE. YOU NEVER STAND UP FOR YOURSELF MAN, DO IT!”

“Um..how does that relate to standing up for my-“

“C’MON BRO STOP BEING SUCH A PUSSY!!!”

*sigh*

I relented and approached the offender, still on his phone, oblivious to his impending doom.

Niles shadowed me a foot behind, like an instructor assessing a pupil.

“Yo, get the fuck out of here.” I declared.

“What did you say?” the Kid answered back, more confused than indignant

“YOU HEARD HIM FAGGOT!!” Niles bellowed and shoved the Kid toward the door.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?” the Kid said, and began to retreat back into the main cafeteria.

AT THAT MOMENT, I COMITTED THE SINGLE DUMBEST, CRO-MAGNUN, MAN-MOMENT OF ALL TIME:

*HUUUUUUGH-PPPPPPPPPPPT!!!!!!!!*

I spit right in the poor fuck’s face.

….I know….I know.

He stood there for a moment, frozen in time and I watched my putrid saliva cascade down his cheek.

He spun and exited the cafeteria very quickly.

“…WHAT THE FUCK MAN??” Niles exclaimed, grinning ear to pierced ear.

I was dumbfounded.

“THAT WAS FUCKED UP! YOU CROSSED THE LINE, TOUGH GUY.” Niles said, giggling at my embarrassment.

Before I could utter any form of rebuttal, I heard the high-heels of my assistant principal, Ms. Boyle, cluck towards me.

A tall, thin blonde woman with light skin and blonde hair, she motioned me out of the lounge with a single index finger curled over the shoulder of her red pantsuit.

Even while committing the unforgivable, I was aroused…but fuck, was I in trouble!

“LETS GO TO MY OFFICE.”

I turned back at Niles, and the rest of my friends, who were in hysterics.
Fucking assholes.

Ms. Boyle shut the door behind us. Nice.

“Evan, -“

I cut her off.

“I know it was horrible, immature, and stupid. I was totally wrong, I’ll go apologize right now.”

“No..that’s not gonna do it…Evan, how would like it if you were constantly tormented as you were going blind?”

“WHAT?? HE’S BLIND???!”

“Well…almost”

"WHAT THE FUCK?? !? I SPIT IN A BLIND KID’S FACE??!”

“Hey. Language…clearly a suspension is in order, but let’s bring him in here for you to apologize.”

Ms. Boyle radioed a lunch aide to retrieve the Blind Kid.

About 10 minutes later, one of the aides poked his head in the door.

“We can’t find him anywhere…He said something about Evan being ‘fucked now’. I don’t know, we think he left campus grounds.”

“Well…we’ll settle this on Monday, Evan.” said Ms. Boyle, showing me the door.

I got up, with my stomach churning in anxiety, still in disbelief over the series of events that transpired during a single lunch period.

PART 2 COMING SOON.

recap

2009-12-24T18:35:00.003-05:00

my man tyler gildin killed it last night
as did Ariel Klein

I did relatively okay
so if he killed it
I caught it in a dark alley and molested it.

Home has been an emotional drain. maybe it's because of the snow, or lack of shit to do, but all of a sudden Friday Nights @ LIV doesn't seem so bad to come back to...

So last night Scott, Cassidy and I were driving home. Well, only I was driving.
If all three of us were driving, that would be like a .68 BAC level and too many hands on the wheel.

and as I got off the highway onto the service road, a
CAR WAS HEADING STRAIGHT FUCKING TOWARD US.

I cut off my convo with Scott about how Gucci Mane would beat Aquaman in a fight and swerved out of the way, narrowly averting disaster, and by extension corny graduation pictures of us on the front page of Newsday.

The dude kept going, whizzing by us, against traffic.

It was 2 AM and the roads were pretty barren, but wow, what a fuck. I think it was a conspiracy to cut off my January 4th show @ Caroline's.

HI Viral videos

2009-12-22T02:59:00.002-05:00

some shit that i've really liked lately...

Tomorrow Night will be my NYC Debut at the gotham comedy club. hope people come. if not. who cares. we all die alone anyway.

KRUMLIFE X DJ DEREK WALIN "CRACK BY POPULAR DEMAND, VOL. 1"

2009-12-19T19:48:00.001-05:00

DOWNLOAD

It's time to switch to Final Cut..we da best

2009-12-18T01:10:00.000-05:00