Allow me to explain

Having just posted my last ...post, I've already gotten back a lot of heat.

"Oh, BestYet you racist"

"BestYet, you real f*@&ed up for saying that about Africans"

ANYHOW...

Let me remind each and every one of you of this one truth...

This site was built to express, not only the things that occur in Esco and my daily lives, but to address issues that truly concern us both. One being Africans.

Esco will not openly come out and admit it due to the fact that he lives in Paris France and by doing so he'd basically be signing his own death warrant. As for I and I, I could care less.

We live in a world where one must watch each and every word they say, otherwise they lose their jobs, careers, marriages, you name it. And on top of that one must always put their tail between their legs and publicly beg for forgiveness.

No, me, let's just say I ain't the one. Not the most politically correct guy, nor do I try to be. I don't intend on saying hurtful things to or about people, but sometimes that's just how it has to be in order for my message to come across.

So I say this to all of you now who are quick to take offense, I will NOT sugarcoat anything. I'll continue to call it like I see it and if you have a problem with that, read another blog in your leisure time.

Anyhow, frig you.

Why they always gotta...

First things first....*sigh*

I've been living in the Netherlands now for 6 full years and being here I've seen many things.

In my time living here I've toured at least a dozen European countries, I've seen many places and many faces. I've seen that Dutch people really go the extra mile when it comes to expressing themselves through dress/attire.

I've seen girls and grown women dressed like Cabbage Patch Kids, like witches, like all sorts of things. I've seen skinheads and chicks with patched heads walking the streets with pride.

I've seen men wearing hot-pants (short shorts) with there boxers showing, kind of like how it was in the NBA 15+ years ago, before MJ introduced the baggy, longer shorts. Thanks MJ!

I've come accustomed to Moraccans, Turks, Indo's, Asians, hardcore Muslims: men in the dresses and slippers or sports shoes and women in them curtain/ drape numbers.

But the one thing that I have not been able to accept or deal with properly has been the Africans.

Now, I myself am just 3 generations removed from Cameroon, where my ancestors hail from. Even with this knowledge of my family tree, I, in NO way, feel connected to Africa.

Not that there is anything wrong with Africa *ahem* breeding grounds for HIV/AIDS *ahem*.

Not that it doesn't provide some of the best scenic view on planet Earth *ahem* and the most pungent smelling people *ahem*.

Now now, I am not here to bash on Africans, nor has it ever been my intent, but sometimes they go a bit far. I've always been a believer in pushing the envelope, but they push it, fold it backwards, turn it inside out and beyond. You give them an inch, they take a mile. You give them a liter of deodorant spray, they....I digress.

I see them dress in the most nonsensical combinations ever, I've seen hairdos that would wow Scott Pollard.

Never did I expect to see what I'm about to show you. Never did I think that a loving mother, would do such a thing to her young daughter, knowing FULL WELL that they are no longer in the motherland. Never did I think I'd see the day.

Now when I was seated on the train and saw the mother with her tacky swirl-do did I think the two girls following her would be jacked up that much more, but was I wrong and BOY did my eyes open up.

I thought to myself at that moment I should take a picture, but they walked through the small cabin quite quickly. I'm not the type to follow people to take photos of....oh yea, I am- my bad.

In this situation I was in no way about to lose my seat to take a snapshot of these folks.

But then as the train approached my stop and I headed towards the exit, I saw that the African clan had stayed at the exit the whole time. I took this as a sign from above to take a secretive mugshot and post it up on THESE internets.

Brace yourself!

Questions to the mother;

How the f*@& you going to give the child a lion's mane hairdo?

How the f*@& you going to do it with blonde streaks?

Do you not love your children? Yes, her older sister was jacked up too.

Uhmmm...why?

I took this picture about 3 months ago. When I took it, it brightened up my day in a way that you wouldn't believe, but since then I've been truly conflicted as to whether I should post it on these particular internets, or just let it die with me.

I then came to the realization that it would be wrong of me to keep this from masses, it would wrong NOT to put the Africans on blast for such tomfoolery.

I hope that by posting this that Africans out there will see and know that such things are wrong and that in the future things will change. If I can bring that awareness by putting this young unsuspecting, well-deserving little girl on blast, then I think I've done my part.

Again, I love Africans and want the best for them as we head into decade two of this millenium.

Can You Say Chi- City?

Now I consider myself a sh*t talker. Basically I live to talk sh*t. It's what I do. But like everything, you must always keep in mind that there is someone else around who's better at it than you are. Unless your name is LeBron James. But that's neither here nor there. Anyhow, this man here is my superior in this particular department.

So during one of my daily adventures on the www, I decided to go to Youtube and see what interesting things I can come upon, and trust me, I see some crazy sh*t.

Lo and behold, I found that a person I 'followed' (and I use that term lightly seeing I basically watched most of the videos in one day) had decided to make a comeback. And he came back strong.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present: Mr Chi-City. The stage is yours sir:



And it just gets better...



What can I say? I am a fan of sh*t talkers.

A personal favourite of mine:



And the verdict:



Chi-City MAYNE!!!!

Esco out.

No Really...

What part of 'Slaps Only' didn't he understand? Friends like these are the ones you have to stab in the back once in a while so they can understand that they must not mess around with you. Just to keep things fair.



I mean wow. Slap Only dude. His girlfriend would have found out all his secrets. And the next 5 girlfriends after that also.

With friends like these, who needs enemies?

Esco out.

Never on schedule, but always on time

Yea, I'm still breathing.

If your wondering why I haven't posted anything in about 2 months it's because I've been quite busy as Team Manager of the Netherlands national Men's U16 Basketball team. We cut the selection from 15 to 13 the end on June. Exciting times, then it sucked though, had to miss Quai 54 in Paris this year. I'll try to make it out for the tournament next year if I can.

If you haven't wondered anything then cool, I could take longer breaks from this blog and also F@$* YOU. You should be wondering and checking the blog daily for updates.

Like I said, I'm still breathing.

Might not sound too amped, but believe you me, I am. After spending a night in Latvia earlier this week, I've found a new appreciation for life.

I know you think that was me setting the premise for a story, but that isn't what I came on to share with you. I actually don't care to share anything with you, but if one more person asks me when I'll post something again I'm going to puke on them.... like the guy on the flight back from Birmingham last week - CLASSIC!

Dude just kept going and going....and going. Resulting in him being laughed out and laughed out... and laughed out by the last 10 rows on the flight. When you have 25 people sitting around you hearing and watching you puke all over yourself....BEFORE the plane even takes off, I should kill yourself. I'm sure that it's written somewhere that you won't burn in Hell for all eternity if you kill yourself after puking your guts out of a flight filled with people just itching for something to laugh at. And believe you me, like Katt Williams- I got my 7 chuckles in and then some.

I basically laughed at the dude for half hour. Dude had already spend 20 minutes in the bathroom cleaning himself off and changed into a pair of khaki shorts and a t-shirt from the puke-soaked casual dresswear, holding him nasty puke shoes and went to the front of the plane for the remainder of the flight.

I genuinely felt bad for the guy, I mean me and the other members of the coaching staff were having a conversation with dude at the boarding gate, but yeah.

I think the funniest moment was was after hearing rounds 1 and 2 I turned around to see the rucus going on and realized it was him.

The guy looked at me dead in the eye, with that look of utter disstress and discomfort. We've all puked before and the feeling that comes along with it is absolutely horrible and in a split second when our eyes connected I felt all his pain and with his eyes he said to me, "Friend, please help me. Make the pain stop."

My eye-response, "Boyyyy...no nuh. Puke on my feet and I'll give you something to puke about."

Well, directly after our connection dude let 'er rip! That alone had me and my staff laughing for a half hour. It was totally awesome, laughing from that deep place inside, so deep that it hurts.

It was funny, because dude started out okay- puking in the aisle, but it was so much and drained his energy so much that I guess he gave up trying. Trying being puking to the right (into the aisle). Dude just put his head down and went all over himself. COMPLETELY covered in his own mess...then the stench.

Damn, need I say more?

Awesome.

This wasn't what I wanted to share, but whatever, it ran through my mind and my fingers ran with it.

The Fastest

Have you ever been recognized as being the fastest...anything? No? Well, that makes both of us. Although I was the fastest in the highschool 100 meter races, but yeah, who the hell cares, right? Exactly. Anyhow, as I was roaming on the World Wide Web (comme d'habitude) I saw this video. Found it interesting and decided to share.

Some of these people should be considered the most dangerous people on the planet. You'll see soon enough.

Enjoy.



Esco out.

Swan Dive

Oops. I guess I did not return since the last time. Well actually I was back amongst the computer users, BUT then summer really started and I got sidetracked. As usual.

Anyhow, lots of things happened since the last time and even though I would love to be able to let you in on everything, that will just not be possible because not only do I not want to get into details, I most probably don't remember all of them. Sucks, yes, I know. I should do an update everytime something remotely exciting happens, but no. I tend to have a life sometimes, and it does not always involve me being on the internet, as unbelievable as that may sound.

One thing that I DO remember though, is Brother Franklin. Here is a man, who changed my outlook on life the moment he jiggled his way up to the offering bucket. He was genuinely, or comically if you prefer, excited to go and give his dollar to the Lord. All of which I have absolutely no problems with seeing as I also grew up in the church and sometimes (most of the time) unwillingly put the one or sometimes even five dollars in the offering bucket. Something I hated simply because the moment money touches my hand, I can already see myself spending it. And that was the only time I was not allowed to, and it sucked.

But anyhow, here is Brother Franklin who is a little too happy to give his money. Money that he'll most probably regret offering when it's time to send some to the folks back home. You can call him the anti-me. Thank me later.



The best part of the video? The swan dive. Notice he has absolutely NO regard for those around him who are simply walking to to put money in the offering bucket. By my count, he almost injures 3 people with his antics, including himself.

And apparently, it is not the first time that he has done this. Brother Franklin is a repeat offender.



Brother Franklin for the win!

Esco out.

Guess Who's Back?

Tell a friend.

Esco, out.

I Am Not Dead

Take this title literally and not literally. Of course I am not dead. If I were I would not be writing this, now would I? But this is also just a reminder to say that the legend of Esco lives on to see another day. You can call it Escothology.

What is this legend I am refering to? Well, dumbass, I am a legend. Maybe in my own eyes, but yeah, I am definitely one. What makes me a legend? Nothing really, just the things I do are stuff legends are made of. So, f*ck you.

Take this beautiful month of July '09 as an example:

Who the f*ck else that you know would spend €225 in the first TWO days of the month on sneakers when they would only have about €200 more to live on for the rest of the 28 days, and that the bills hadn't been paid and that food hadn't been put in the fridge?? I only know ONE person other than myself stupid enough (No, I'm not calling myself stupid, but this next person is) to do such a thing. And that person is my cousin, and his usual monetary woes are well-known. So yeah, it must obviously be something that runs in the family. We should be proud of it. I definitely am.

Should I care that I am as broke as my dear cousin's ankles? Yeah, I most probably should care. But the question is: DO I care? Answer: Nope. Well, for now I don't care. It'll come soon. But I've been through worse.

And I'm fresh as hell, even while broke. I might as well move into the Belvedere projects and buy myself 6 BMW's, would be the same thing.

I may need to enter rehab.

Oh and seeing my post just beneath this one, that is if you are smart enough to have realized what it was about, you may have noticed that I had another problem that would have required me to spend more €uros. €uros I did not have because of my beloved sneakers. Oh well.

One thing is for sure:



(Just look at the shirt, f*ck that dude.)

FML

Why did you have to leave me?

What have I done to you to deserve such unjust treatment? Have I not taken care of you for the past 3 years? I invited you into my home, took care of you. Treated you like you were supposed to be treated. Kept you up to date with the latest trends.

What more can you want from me? I've given you everythingg you asked for, everytime you requested something, I stopped everything to take care of you. You were my priority. You were basically all that I had in this country.

You were my companion during those late nights when I could not fall asleep. I meet with my friends daily and you're always by my side. If it weren't for you none of this would have been possible. None of nothing. I'm lost now without you.

Why are you doing this? Is this a test? I don't want to let you go. You hold all my secrets and I'm afraid that if I let you go you will just erase them all as you've erased me from your life. And I will not allow that to happen.

I've spent many a sleepless night trying to make things right between us, to make things work. But you shut me out, you stare at me with your blank expression. Not giving away a hint of humanity, leaving me to wonder what it was that I could have done to you to deserve such treatment.

I'm willing to pay a specialist to come and try find the problem and see if there is anyway for it to be solved. I am willing to try on my own, but you're refusing to let me in, so I'm forced to have to use someone else if that will allow you to open up. I guess it's just me.

I miss you already. I really do. Time goes by so slowly without you by my side to keep me company and keep me busy and smiling.

I pray that this is just a bad dream and that when I wake up, you're bright face will be watching me. I just hope that this is you just going through a bad phase and you will soon snap out of it. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

I don't want to lose you. Please don't leave me.

I already feel a depression coming along.

*sigh*

FML.

Esco, out.

There Is A God

That was me today in the Footlocker at the mall not too far from where I live.

The month of June has started off perfectly for me. Here's to hoping it continues this way.

I was practically hopping up and down in one place while standing in line to make my purchase.

WOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Esco, out.

"Do not...

...Mess around with Africans."

There are certain rules in life that should be heeded no matter the situation, such as "Always wear a condom when you have sex with the girl who has AIDS". Well, ok, that was a terrible example since you shouldn't even be considering having sex with her. But, anyhow. It's a rule, and one you should not break lest you want to suffer the consequences.

Another very important, if not undervalued, rule is to not f*ck with Africans. Now, this post is not meant as racial or discriminatory. This is just me giving you a heads-up.

*Story time*

Last week was exams for me. (Yes, they went well, thanks for asking) And because I had to get back into the whole school and studying mentality, I decided not to play basketball for two whole weeks leading up to exams. Yeah, that's what you call dedication. Anyhow. Friday was the last day, and I decided to hit the court after I returned home from school.

So now, it's summer-type of weather here in Paris, and it's beautiful out. So instead of going to the gym where I played during the winter, I decided to hit the outdoor court in my neighbourhood. Met up with the guys and had a good time catching up. And then it was time to play ball.

Everything was going fine, until for some odd reason, the shortest guy on the other team decided he had a score to settle with the tallest guy on my team. First mistake, your team is losing, there is NO reason for you to be running your mouth as though you're the one kicking ass. Second mistake, you are 5'7" at the MOST (and I'm being generous) and the guy on my team is about 6'5". Third mistake, tall guy is African. Short guy is not. Little did he know, he'd already lost. But for the sake of the story, I'll continue.

So this short guy, who I'm guarding by the way, gets switched on the tall guy. And then decided that tall guy played him too roughly, and says something slick. I mean, we ARE on the street, you should expect a bit of roughness. Hell, I have a cut next to my eyebrow that I only noticed 3 hours later when I got home. But whatever.

Short guy is running his mouth and tall guy is getting annoyed, and I'm sensing danger. So now, game over, we won, short guy and his band of misfits lost and they are heading to the side. As all of this is happening, short guy is talking smack to tall guy, who's had enough.

He calmly walks over to short guy and says "Listen, I'm sick of your sh*t. Either shut the f*ck up or do something about my so-called 'rough' play. I don't talk, I act, so if you don't want problems, stop talking." End of threat. The way he said that sh*t put the fear of God in ME, and I was not involved. And he turns and starts to leave. I would not be telling this story if it ended here. And boy did it not end.

Short guys jumps up from where he's seated and gets all up in tall guy's face. OK, he 'tries' to get up in tall guy's face seeing that he's nearly an entire foot shorter. He's practically on his toes, for those of you trying to picture the scene. He starts yapping and waving his hands dangerously close to tall guy's face.

Uh oh.



BOOM!

Gyaddayum!! He got hit with the headbutt from the Heavens. One he, or any of us for that matter, never saw coming. He stumbled back, and looked up dazed at tall guy. His eyes got big, and it looked as if it was only then that it dawned upon him. Tall guy was a motherf*cking African.

Well, from that point on, he saw that tall guy was not f*cking around when he said that he acted and skipped all of the long talk. We all saw. Well, atleast I did. In the end it all ended well, since short guy left the court with his confidence and manhood shattered on the floor from the headbutt he got, and tall guy continued playing til' after I left the court. And since I haven't heard anything else, I guess that was the end of that story. Well in that case, it is also the end of mine.

Moral of the story? Read the title stupid.

Apologies

Over the passed couple months I've gotten alot of commentary on a posting from a couple months back.

The post in question was about my morbidly obese colleague, Sven that I put on blast.


Yesterday I had to work and had one of the worst days ever, even worser than the times Sven and I work the same shifts. Yes, worser...much worser.

It all began the night before. I was in Den Bosch for Game 6 of the Dutch Basketball League championship. Having coached a couple players that now play for the club's U20 team and share a house with other players, I decided to just crash there for the night.

The next morning I received a call from my tempe agency letting me know that I not only had to work, but that I'd be starting at noon- a new shift time.

I don't know bout you, but if you wake me up talking serious matters, or anything really, I won't process it as sharply. Anyhow, I still got up then, quickly washed my face, brushed the pearlie off-whites and headed out the door. Now Den Bosch aint but a 30 minute train ride from my small town, but by time I got home it was already 10:50.

I still had to prepare a lunch-kit, change and whatever. Turned the shower on, but as I was heading back into the bathroom something else caught my attention. Something that could either make or break my day.

Yes, I had to coocoo.

I paused for a moment however, should I coocoo now or wait till I reach the workplace, will I reach with time remaining that I could peacefully coocoo without rushing and possibly drop a lung.

One dilemma, but I opted to coocoo, because 1: If I arrived late I'd have to get on the floor immediately and 2: U'n goin kill me pannuh full stop

Why I mention Sven? Gimme a chance lemme tell my story boss.

So after coocoo'rin/coocoo'yin...however you wanna say it... I thought about changing, but it was already passed the meeting time, so I left home IN THE SAME SHIRT I SLEPT IN.

When one has to go on with their day without going through their routine beforehand, one becomes self-conscious and none moreso than yours truly.

So I'm at work now, feeling a bit under the weather. That whole 30 degrees to 10 degrees day switchero really mess me up. So I working slowly, but it getting hot and man feeling moist, not sweating, but that fever moisture feeling.
It was then that I took a sniff, a sniff of dear ol' Sven. So I looked around, but Sven was nowhere to be seen. Don't tell me it's me smelling so. Oh crud!

Your boy was reeking, to the point that I have to hit that arm pit-napkin washed down during one of the breaks. Thank God I had deodorant to counter that, but still, even if only for a couple hours I reeked like Sven.

Therefore I'd like to apologize here on these internets to good ol' Sven.

Wait, hold on...Sven was still stink. Maybe he watches Game 6's all the time too, who knows.


Moral of the story...always walk with deodorant

Well Isn't That Embarassing...

Oh wow.

Why the hell would you go out and embarass yourself in such a public manner? I mean do you REALLY believe no-one would notice?

Some may laugh, others may cry. I just shake my damn head. And then for you go on to brag about how you don't buy most of your shoes because companies send them to you. OK, I'll give you that. You ARE part of one of the most influencial Hip-Hop groups of all time, so I wouldn't doubt you when you say that. BUT, my n*gga, I AM doubting the fact that some legit shoe company sent you these bad boys. Because nothing you can do or say will change the fact that those shoes you proudly call "Ultra rare blue and red Bugs Bunny Nike Air Jordan VIII's" are FAKE.

All cool points lost.

You just took a massive L. And you did this at a SNEAKER CONVENTION.

Kindly go and kill yourself.

Esco, out.

Sadness

Short post.

Hug for you and your fam Jan.

Much love.

Esco, out.

Wonderful Day

Today was a good day.

Not really a good day in the sense that everything went perfectly according to plan exactly the way I dreamt it the night before, but still a good day in the sense that I did not die. That must count for something.

Also, seeing that today was the first day of exams for me, it's pretty weird that I am saying that today was a good day. BUT!!! Man oh man, today could not have gone any smoother. Well it could have, but yeah, I would have most probably ended up doing things detrimental to my health and would have put me in the line of fire of alot of hatred. Therefore, I have no idea what the f*ck I'm talking about right now.

I take back everything I said about hating the strike. I truly do. I've seen the amazing things people, namely teachers who were on strike, do to get back at the system. Basically today, teachers allowed us to cheat.

Well ok, they don't usually stop us from cheating but that's mainly because we're just that good at it. No. Today, they basically told us "We have no reasons to fail you guys seeing that you've had NO classes for the semester, and that it would be terrible for us to grade you as though you've been in school normally, therefore, you all get the minimum passing grade, and depending on what you write on the paper, you grade increases." So we took that as though they said "Cheat your asses off, we won't care" which was basically what they meant.

Instant boner. *pause*

Oh hell yeah. It was that type of day. What can I say? I deserved it.

You don't think I deserve it? Well before you get up on your high horses, consider this: F*ck you.

Good. The only regrettable thing about today was the weather. Yesterday, 30°. Today? 10°. If I could meet God right now and ask him one question it would be "Why?" And then I would give him dap for a job well done and then tell him I'll see him when I see him. He should know when.
Yessir. I am happy.

Oh and whoever thinks I'm being lazy with this blogging thing: F*ck you.

This is MY blog. I do what the F*CK I want.

Esco, out.

Boredom

I have been told that I'm bored because I wrote about what I read. Hmm. Valid point. Or maybe not. Maybe I'm just writing about something I found interesting during one of my many escapades on the world wide web. Maybe. Or maybe I found it cool to write about zombies. Yeah, that must be it.

I mean, hell, we have even written about a guy getting traded for several baseball bats. Well, ok, not we, but seeing that we're a 'team', I might as well say we. But yeah, I'm the bored one.

And, to a certain point, there is fact in the statement. I am bored out of my motherf*cking mind. Excuse my french. But alas, that is not the reason for me writing about H1Z1. Far from it.

What are my reasons? Quite frankly, I have no particular reasons why I wrote it. But maybe, I don't know, just maybe I needed a little chuckle during this time of crisis. I mean, come on. Humans are being killed by a flu that is normally reserved for pigs. And actually, it is not technically Swine Flu. But hey, if you're in tune with the news, you should already know that. Oh my bad, you're not bored. You are busy. Therefore I'm the bored one. But the virus is pretty uncool nonetheless.

Ramble, ramble, ramble.

Who gives a f*ck? Not me.

But you are right. I am bored.

Oh well, it's one of the only times you are right, so I'll give you this one.

*smile*

Bitch.

I'm out.

Aww Sh*t

It's the end of the world as we all know it. No really. We are going to die.

All of us.

As we have all heard by now, well if you haven't it's most probably because you're dead, so you're excused. Anyhow, as we've all heard by now, there is a new virus, disease, whatever roaming the face of the earth.

H1N1.

If that combination of letters or words does not scare you, then my friend you are also dead. There are only a few other combinations of four letters that should kind of put some fear in your heart. You should be able to figure them out. But that's neither here nor there.

So Mexico has been shut down, and I believe is still shut down at this present moment because of H1N1. Poor Mexicans, no Cinco de Mayo for you! Other countries have also been put on alert, including here in Paris, and other European capitals.

They are saying that it can reach pandemic levels. Also known as 'Holy sh*t we're f*cked' level. All of this was said before I saw this on the net.

28 days later.

Yeah. We're all going to die. But before we go, we may have the chance to kill a few others before we do.

But the point of this post is that, we're going to die. All of us. Some killed by H1N1 or even H1Z1, and those who die by those viruses, will be killed by us. Again. Not because want, but because we have to.

I'm out.

'Tard Fight!!!

Ah, here we are once again.

These past days have not been very exciting, to say the least. I am STILL on 'vacation', believe it or not. And to think that the French have been called cowards, chickens, p*ssies, whatever words you may use for weak people. But one thing these guys don't do is quit. Which, in itself, is not a bad thing. But there is a time to persevere, and there is a time to quit. Now is that time to quit guys. Just sayin'.

Anyhow. In my boredom I have a tendancy to surf the net. Well, ok. Not only during boredom. I also surf when I have tons of schoolwork to do. But it's me we're talking about. So surfing comes before schoolwork. Now that that's clear, moving right along.

So I woke up this morning, did the usual stuff, and then hopped on my pc. And surfed. And lo and behold. I fell upon the greatest thing since, I don't know, sneakers.

'Tard Fights.

*Anouncer voice* In the blue corner, weighing in at 177lbs, and 5'9"! He claims to have never lost a street fight in his life! Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, in his first ever professional fight, I present to you...from Sheeeeellbyyyy, North Carolinaaaaaaaaaaaaa...Briiaaaaaannnn Sutherlaaaaaaaaaannnnnddddd!



*Anouncer voice* And in the blue corner, weighing in at 225lbs, standing 5'11"! Creator of what he claims to be "Illusive Fighting"! Ladies and gentlemen...Theeeee Shadoooooooowwwwww!



And the "winner", ladies and gentlemen...YOU!!! For having witnessed the greatest fighters in the history of this beautiful sport!

*Sidenote* Brian Sutherland never fought again after his first professional fight. We can all see why.

This, on this beautiful day, April 11th, 2009, is my gift to the world.

I'm out.

Allow myself to explain....my....self

I don't care too much for this blog yes I think it's a cool idea but like I've said b4 I don't care too much to update it why couldn't this just be audio or something or that nature why I gotta go through all this? anywho my postings will be written depending on my mood and the style I choose to utilize at that given time take this post as a prime example I'm continuosly rambling on and on and for those you you who don't notice or do notice but can't figure the style then you're not the brightest but rather the dustiest book on the shelf never heard that said before but I felt like throwing it out there and being a bit original

Moral of this post, be creative my zaggin.

Trade/Barter

Uhmm...

I've been frequenting the blog once a week or so for the last month and only 3 new posts. THREE!

Was truly becoming frustrating. There's only so much times I can check SLAMonline, NBA.com, and various shoe sites.

Then it dawned on me that I'm 50% of the blog's contributors. This sucks dread!

This blog started out as a cool idea, but then I realized...I don't care too much for typing. It may be therapeutic for some, but it's just an annoyance for me, but I agreed to this sh!t, so I'll live up to my end.

What's been going on over the 4-6 weeks?

Well, I've been doing the basketball thing as usual. My team has won 4 of its last 5 games. Which would be pretty good if it meant we were 15 of 23 or 18 of 23, but we're not. We're like 11 of 23. In the 13-14 team competition which is about to end, it's not good enough for a playoff berth. Thus, my team sucks. No, I'm not a player, I'm an assistant coach.

Coached my team for the first team on Saturday. 86-85 victory. Surprisingly, eventhough the opposing team were rallying in the closing minutes a sense of calm took over and I had no worries. Either this coaching thing could work out or a farted without realizing it. Who knows?

In my absence from this thing I've at times wanted to post things i've read, heard, seen, but honestly...do I need to share everything with you? What do you share with me? Why is this relationship soo lopsided? What do bring to the table? ...Shocks!

Anyhow, I'n really got nothing to talk about, but one thing that has been on my mind was this sad story I read about 6 weeks ago. 

The story was about a minor league baseball player in the US. Now, we all know that the economic times that we presently live in could be a lot better, but may get worse for many before any relief is felt. 

Baseball was the one sport America can truly call their own. Wait...I take that back. They lost the World Baseball Classic...again a couple weeks ago. Anywho, the sport is ginormous there. Rookie contracts can range from $100,000 to $2 million, respectable major leaguers can command anywhere between $5 million and $30 million per year.

Alex Rodriguez would currently be in year 9 of a 10-year $252 million contract, if he had not opted out of that contract 2 years ago.

For those of you out there that know anything about sports would know that it's both risky and beneficial to opt out of contracts. Risky in the sense that your future employer prospects think you aren't worth the dinero you made till that point and offer you less, beneficial if your game is tight...you stand the chance of making more. 

So dude opted out. New deal as of 2007....$10-year $275 million. I guess steroid abuse pays off after all.

Anyhow, A-Rod had nothing to do with my story. Simply wanted to paint a picture of the type of money that's out there and that is generated by the sport.

In just about every sport there's a minor league system. The Minor League for baseball, the D-League for basketball. And just like in every sport, an athlete is paid depending on individual production, merchandise sales, etc. It's a whole big sports economic thing. I read 35 pages of my Sports Economy 101 book, so I know about 10% of what I'm talking about

Baseball team rosters are quite large 20-30 men deep. So in order to make sure they have enough talent training and improving their skills, they got A, AA and AAA teams. AAA being the best, right below the majors.

The story I read on MSN.com news was about the death of a 26-year old A-division player. He died of a drug overdose. Now, drug overdoses isn't one that get sympathy from me or most people, but you haven't heard the full story.

We've all heard the saying, "It ain't worry ...peanuts" or ...pennies, or ...shit, or ...a Goddamn thing, OR whatever. But damn, the card this ball player was dealt was just down right wrong.

Trading and Bartering has been common practice probably as old as time itself. Bartering being the trade or goods and/or services for equal goods and/or services without the use of money. 

The definition of Bartering continues to say that bartering usually replaces money as the method of exchange in times of monetary crisis.

Trades are made in sports at all times. It's a general managers job to assemble players that each bring a unique asset to a team and not just have a bunch of talented guys running up and down a court...*ahem* 2004-2008 New York Knickerbockers *ahem*.

Take for example the blockbuster trade of Kevin Garnett from the T-wolves to the Celtics in 2007. KG, by his lonesome and his $20+ million contract was exchanged for Al Jefferson, Gerald Green, Sebastian Telfair and Ryan Gomes. 

Equal trade?

KG was the franchise's player for 11 long seasons. Quickly approaching 30 years, still productive, but it was him by himself.

Al Jefferson, plays PF/C, has the potential to be KG-esque in the coming years as his game develops. Gerald Green, high-flying youngster with raw skills. Sebastian Telfair, cousin of Stephon Marbury....all-round waste of a roster spot. Ryan Gomes...descent player. 

Individually none of these cats can match KG, but collectively they could build something in Minnesota that KG was able to do before Kevin McHale (the GM) lost his mind. Individually the made peanuts in comparison to KG, but collectively the sum of their contracts came close enough to be worth trade consideration and the ultimate trade or the fiercest player of this generation.

Now that you have an idea of how it's done, let's get back to baseball.

Barter: the exchange of equal goods and services for no money. 

Ok, back to the tragic story of this minor leaguer John Odom. John was a pitcher for some crappy independent team.  He wasn't on his way to winning the Cy Young award or anything, so dude was expendable. He wasn't worth much and his team really needed some new lumber.

Now athletes render services and in return they get paid. Not only them, everyone does it. People perform different services depending on the job. In sports, people are view, however, as commodities aka goods. Albeit that they are referred to as "goods", goods can't render services. Good are goods. It's like two guys trying to have a baby...it ain't gonna happen.

Now, John isn't the role model everyone thinks athletes ought to be. Dude had several known bouts with narcotics, but he pulled thru. Baseball was his dream and he wasn't gonna let that stand in his way.

But back to this trade...

His team ain't really care too much for him, he's a crappy pitcher, not really making it in their pitching rotation. Do what all teams do, trade and hope the next guy delivers. But there isn't much cash to throw around. You wanna get a player, you not only have to take over their contracts, but you must drive or fly them to wherever you may be. As this costs money. 

DAMN IT ALL THIS WASTED PAPER!!!

Hey, quick solution, instead of paying ALL that money to fly dude out, how about you just give us 10 Maple wood bats, double-dipped black 34-inch - C243 style and we'll throw in the pitcher for no cost.

Hmmmm....DEAL!

The trade of a minor league pitcher for 10 bats. These aren't no bats that'll guarantee winning and was priced at $1000 a bat. They were $69.99. Buy six and you get a discount of $4.49 per bat. 

WOW!!!

Baseball players eat peanuts and chew tobacco a lot, it's like a given in the world on baseball. You sit in the dugout, you chew peanuts or chewing tobacco. I'd feel better, if I were traded for peanuts...at least. Then people still wouldn't be able to say, "Dude, you ain't worth peanuts." I'd then pull out my contract and prove them otherwise.

But that was not the case with John Odom, he couldn't say that. Probably didn't even have a written contract made. Team probably received the bats and told John to go to the other team to thank them and while there they called and said, "Stay there, in case the need help with stuff."

To the General Manager that made that deal and to all other GM's out there, yes, I'll admit it was funny. But there's gotta be something else you could do for shits and giggles other than making a total mockery of some poor young man. 

Go quail hunting and laugh at the fat that you are on private property hunting birds that don't fly.

Go toss midgets cross a room and make them squirm.

Go...I dunno, do something else.

Shame on you and all the others that have made similar deals for Turkeys, or fish or whatever. SHAME ON YOU!!!

You know what, to be traded/bartered for not even peanuts, becoming the laughing stock of baseball. Not just of crappy A division, but of ALL baseball, sports as a whole and in general life. I, too, would have probably began experimenting heavily with recreational drugs.

Not to be mean or anything, but...better you than me pannuh.

R.I.P. John Odom

Enjoy!

GO PUS...uhh...CELTICS!!!

Well I'll Be Damned

21 days later. That's a mixture of laziness, laziness, laziness and uninspiring happenings on this side of the globe. For me atleast. I have no idea what that other clown is up to, other than being the usual ass that he is.

Moving along. Not that I had anything specific to say, just basically had to write, since it's been like forever since something was put up on this b*tch. You can say we had an argument and needed to take some time off to settle our differences. This here is to say that I'm, hopefully, back for a while, until that beautiful thing called laziness kicks back in. And that can be soon.

I already feel it coming along.

It is now 11.24am. The earliest that I have awoken in God only knows how long. Not that it matters since I have not been going to school lately. Why? Oh, just a strike. Again.

So yeah, here we are again. This feels like the first post that I put up on this here blog. You have no idea what it is you want to write, but you just want to write so you basically just let the words spill, or womit (like the old people say) and see what comes out. Nasty.

I should probably go and do some pushups like I've been telling myself that I would be doing. Ha! "Good luck with that" I say to myself. I think I should do it, it'll motivate me to do something other than nothing, which, to be honest, I don't mind doing. Nothing that is.

...

Ok, ok ok ok. I'll go.

Dammit.

I'm out.

Does it make sense to fire people even though it is common knowledge that your company made billions of euros in profit in 2008?

Especially seeing the state of the economy and knowing that you are one of the few companies who can afford to hire some of the people who lost their jobs?

No it doesn’t.

-10 Fresh points.

I’m out.

Alrighty then...

Ok, it's official. I'm through with school. Ok, I lied. But this is getting annoying. Before coming to France I always thought that when I heard that schools on the French side were striking, it seemed fun.

This shit is not.

My years in France have been strike plagued. There are no other ways to put this. Last year, we got locked out of school for damn near 2 months. You would leave your house to go to school (on the first couple days atleast, when they said the strike would only last a week) and as you arrive you would see a bunch of clowns (not real clowns, but clowns nonetheless) playing guitars and singing in front of the entrances. Not letting anybody in. *insert gasface here*

They would have these sort of meetings called General Assemblies. Total wastes of time. I went to the first one since they said that during these so-called meetings we got the chance to vote if we wanted to continue the strike or not. Never again. Those things last 4 to 5 hours.

My school is pretty small, around 15000 or so students. 300 people voted for the strike. That's democracy. And those same 300 people continued voting for the strike for 2 months. Where were the other 12000? Most probably at home like myself.

Oh well. Guess what? Yeah, you got that right. We're on strike again. Only this time, the teachers won't be complaining about how us students are wasting their time. Because they are the ones striking now. Yessir, I wonder what their excuses will be now? What am I saying? There won't be any excuses. Psshhh, moving right along.

It's no wonder Paris is viewed as a strike loving country. That shit couldn't be any closer to the truth. I get the whole "fighting for your rights" crap, but there is a limit. Fight for YOUR rights. Do NOT under no circumstances disturb me while I'm peacefully living my life. I'm not bothering you, don't bother me. Do that and we most definitely can get along. As things are now, we are enemies. Oh well, I guess that's the whole purpose, to get the rest of the people agitated so that it will force the government to act.

What is that you say? The people in government are the ones at fault? Oh. Well that changes everything then. Why not just get rid of them? Too radical? I agree. But it was funny when heard the first time. (You won't get the last couple sentences if you don't read the link)

Oh well. Such is life, and sadly, I'm stuck in the middle of it. As is, I currently only have school on fridays. Fun times.

I'm bored as hell.

I'm out.

P.S. The upstairs neighbours had a fight last night. That shit lasted for more than an hour. Somebody got beat the hell up. Poor lady. Baby was screaming its head off and dude kept laying the smackdown on his lady. They're like two floors up and I could hear her hit the floor from here. Disgusting.

Freedom Papers Rejected

As I mentioned in my last post, I have a part-time job. I don't necessarily enjoy working, but it allows me to eat whenever and whatever I want without praying whenever I swipe my bank card.

I've also taken on sponsorship of one of the players on my team. His family isn't in the best financial position and eventhough I, myself, might not be...I can't sit back and see a kid play a sport without the proper means. He's the most talented kid I've worked with till now and is a front-runner for the Dutch national U16 team. I promised him that I'd cop him a pair of kicks if he makes the team and he definitely will, so I kinda need to prepare for that.

Last week was Carnival here in the southern part of the country, basically a time when folks dress up in silly costumes and go out on the town with the primary purpose of binge drinking. They'd start around 2PM and end around 4:30AM. The "P" and "A" are on opposite ends of the keyboard, so no need to think I'm mistaken. Yes, 12-15 hours of nonstop boozery. Cool for them, sucks for me if I need to go through the city or use public transportation.



Anyhow, because this is a tradition for southern Dutchies, lots of businesses close for the week or shorten working hours to allow their employees the freedom to act a fool through the streets.

This week opens up a lot of work opportunities for students, because it's also a week off from school. Yes, students drink too. So I took this opportunity to work 4 shifts, Monday thru Thursday.

Not just any shift...the early shift (6AM-2:30PM).

Now, I knew this would be tough, but figured, "Hey! I could wake up and watch NBA games on the west coast and head off to work."

To make a truly long story short:

DAY 1

I was soo tired my legs began to wobble. Feet hurt, but I grinded it out. Still went to basketball practice an hour after getting home.

DAY 2

This was the toughest of the three days, I had not gotten any sleep the night before (watched maybe 7 minutes of a Celtics game). At about 7:30AM fatigue started kicking. Keep in mind, my shift ends at 2:30PM. You know how one begins to sulk when they see no end in sight. Well yeah, I sulked hard till 12PM.

In the 8 hours and 30 minutes that I'm clocked in, there are only two 15-minute breaks. The breaks are 3 hours apart, killer!!! Anyhow, there I am working trying not to think of the time and we all know when times on your mind I just about slows down the nothing. You'd swear major time has elapsed but it's only been 6 minutes. That sort of thing.

Fatigue was wearing me down, I found myself falling asleep while operating my fork-cart. Not safe at all, but hey, had to keep moving. I stopped at one point when I couldn't figure out what my scanner was instructing me to do, when that happens I gotta consult boss-lady. She wasn't at her post, so I stayed there and fell asleep on myself like only Eugene Hanson could.

Anyhow, mid-day and I decide I'll take the 15-minute break to nap. Best decision I ever made. Could finally speed up and get work done, time was no longer an issue, standing no longer and issue.

The only issue that still stood in my way was Sven. Sven is a fellow student worker from Germany. Sven is a nice guy, helping, cheery, dorky, all those things. Problem is...Sven is morbidly obese. He's about 6'3 and way over 285. This is not the issue, the issue is that Sven does NOT shower before work. Sven comes to work smelly and leaves reeking.



Now it's not all that bad the whole time, it varies as the day goes along, or should I say intensifies. We've all smelled overweight people, it's a sour, bad taste in the mouth type of stench.

In the morning (6:00-8:45) it's bareable, you can be within 2 feet of him and the scent wouldn't kill you; you'd smell it, but not die.

From 9:00-11:45 you're beginning to pull away from him a bit more and the sweat becomes visible through his oversized t-shirts.

12:00-2:30 you are running from dude, hoping you don't have an order that will put you at the same spot. Well, I had an order during the last time slot mentioned and had been workig on that order for over an hour and lo and behold, Sven was pulling his fork-cart up in my aisle. SHIT!

He didn't come in, as his order had him at the end of the aisle putting about 15-18 meters (45-50 feet) between the two of us. I thought to myself that God was on my side, keeping Sven at several arm's lengths from me, but the devil plays tricks and so does Sven's odor.

THE. ODOR. HIT. ME. HARD. FROM. 40-50 FEET. AWAY.

At the point I wanted to die. No, in fact, I wanted to DED. At least I was sure I would be. Now, it's hard to call someone out on odor charges, hard. I saw it happen to a girl in high school once and I have no idea what happened to her after that year.

The anger had now set in, I was itching to walk up to dude and put him on blast....wait, scream it from across the aisle that he needed to come correct. How can a stench be so potent that it has a 50-foot radius? Or circumference...whatever.

Day 3

Had to work with Sven again.

Day 4

And yet again

Oh, did I mention he also drove me home.



I don't wanna talk about this no more.

Just Sayin'...

This isn't a post about anything in particular. This is just me writing. You may continue reading if you have nothing else to do with your time, or you can just close the page and wait until something more interesting pops up on here.

Life isn't as fun as I thought it would have been leaving my parents' home. To me it would have been parties, fun fun fun. Boy was I wrong. Totally wrong.

Leaving forced me to grow up. Very quickly. Not that this bothers me. But the stress of the everyday problems and issues that need to be resolved can sometimes take its toll on me. And lately, it has been. And I'm not liking it.

My mom always reproached me of being care-free. Something that I always hated. Yes it was true. But like they say, you always ask for the truth but you are not happy when you hear it. Maybe back then I would have rather have her not say anything to me and just be like "It's your life, you do as you please", but thinking back, that would have most probably been the wrong approach to take on the situation. Especially dealing with a person such as myself.

I'm the type of person that needs to learn things the hard way for me to understand. This is a fact. And it's something that I'll admit to anyone willing to lend me a listening ear or eyes in this case. But at times I would want things to be easy also. Living abroad with hardly anyone of your immediate family around is hard. Harder than I've ever imagined. Thank God for a few people in my life who try their best to make shit easier for me. You know who you are.

I love y'all even though I most probably don't show it enough. But I do.

Lately I've been a bit down. I try to present a happy front to those who I meet up with and those who I talk to. But sometimes the pressure of everything comes crashing down on me and I just can't take it anymore. And I give up trying. And I shouldn't.

I've been told over and over that I have the capabilities to achieve anything I want in life, but it's just that I don't have the proper motivation. And until I find something that will motivate me enough to achieve my goals, I most probably will not. And that shit saddens me. But again, it's the truth.

The truth will set you free. I hope it will. Cause I sometimes feel like I'm in prison. This isn't because of anybody. This is something that I'm doing to myself. At the end of the day I have no one else to blame and point fingers to but myself. I have all reasons to be happy, but I'm not. And I hope that by being honest with myself I can be free of all this pressure.

I sometimes wish that I had the same work ethic like back in primary school. And the same eagerness to learn. The same openmindedness. The same enthousiasm. It seems that as I get older, all of those traits in me seem to fade away. Yet, I'm only 21. Really young. It makes no sense to me.

Will I be able to find back that youthful enthousiasm that took me to where I am today? Will I be able to turn things around and pull myself out from under these dark clouds above my head? Will I ever amount to something? Will I make my parents proud when it's all said and done?

I have too many things running through my head. I most probably am worrying myself over nothing. Maybe everyone goes through these types of periods. Maybe. Nothing is for certain though.

I just gotta keep my head up and continue moving forward. It's the best and only thing I can do. I'm supposed to take advantage of life over here. Not let it beat me down. Maybe I should take advantage.

Yeah. I'll do that.

Sorry for this. I just needed to evacuate. Talking alone in the appartment would not have helped.

I'm out.

B-day Shout Out!

Happy Birthday to my father. 63 years young on this day.

Keep it sexy, dad.

Working (Pr.1)

I have been working parttime now since late May. I work on the assembly line for large shipping companies. 

Do I enjoy the work? Sometimes.

Is it exciting? Not really.

Driving around all day, or night, on fork-carts (as I call them) can be pretty fun. Swerving all over the place, occassionally knocking into things, breaking countless items for inventory...it's all part of a day's work.

Since I started working I have become aware as to how dire the economic situation is on the global scale. 

I am one that watches American news on a daily. Can't quite function properly unless I get my Keith Olbermann and Rachel Maddow fix. In October, when the US economy tanked, I thought to myself, "Damn, look how all these fools gonna go to the poor house. Oh well, too bad for them (Americans)".

Boy was my scope narrow. Within two weeks the company I first worked at laid off ALL students, like myself, that had gotten work there via a tempe agency. So like that I was out of work. Normally it would not have been that bad, but I had just spent 800 euros on my MacBook. 

GOODBYE job and "disposable" income, HELLO 18 cent bread....again.

So where work was concerned, I spent the next 2.5 months pretty much just hping and praying for better days.

Then came along the ALDI gig. ALDI, a well known supermarket chain here in Europe known for its low prices. And I think the low prices crossed over into their...everything. Now the work I was to do was the same as at the first, but at the first place we used fancy headsets that gave us the orders, no paper work done. At the ALDI, there was nothing but paper, pallets looked like garbage heaps the way they were done and work was ever so slow, cause unlike the first place they use "walk-fork cart" and you can NOT leave your cart at anytime. The pace is ridiculously slow. Slow doesn't have to be bad, means you got more time just hanging around, but when working in a cooler, tempo is needed, you know...for to generate heat.

I worked there for 2 weeks, 4 shifts in total, I was sick for 3, because these fools wouldn't assign me to the general area where product don't require lower temperatures. I hated it, hated working there and apparently ALDI hated us as well as they, too, let all the students go.

Oh well, was happy with my 18 cent bread anyhow. Reunited and it feels sooo good.

Damn...

Ahem... I guess most of the people with internet access have now seen what is reported as being the police photo of Rihanna's face. I am not linking to it.

Well goddamn.

Why?

What would push any self respecting man to hit her?

Not only her, ANY woman?

Like the saying goes, "Pick on someone your own size". They should add "and sex" to that.

And the worst part of it all is that the media keeps asking the question "What will this do to Chris Brown's/Rihanna's career?"

Uhmmm, do you think that these two even CARE about their careers right now? I think not.

Domestic abuse is a serious issue, and people are just downplaying it, nobody is tackling it head-on like they should. Again, people are just worried about their careers. Sad.

Hitting on your significant other (male or female) is not cool.

My advice, your chick is getting on you nerves, get your big, girl cousin to do the job. Just kidding. Try and talk it out like adults. Find the root of the problem. It's not easy, but it can be done. But under no circumstances do you lay your hands on her. Unless it's a hug. And not a bearhug either.

I read somewhere that "at least one in every three women has been beaten, coerced into sex, or abused in some other way — most often by someone she knows, including by her husband or another male family member; one woman in four has been abused during pregnancy".

Read that again.

Sh*t's disgusting.

*Steps off his soapbox*

I'm out.

Good job!

From: BestYet
Sent: Wed 2/18/09 8:02 AM
To: Esco

I here on the train and the chick "in beeld" got one dreadful cross- eye going on. Dude, moments b4 I snapped this, she was on the phone with her face pointed in my direction. One eye was on the black bag on the lap of the person sitting across from her, and the other out the window infront of me.

So basically I was her focus point, but I don't think she saw me once during that call. However, judging her position in the pic below, she was probably looking directly at me. Now, I'm not the type to make fun of others, but if we are in that business I think we owe it to one another to truly bring the joke over.

How do we do so? You a smart guy and obviously know I mean putting faces to the jokes.

Names may come later. Let's just say this is Annelies, 24, scorpio.

P.S. I know this ain't on the level of laughing at blind women out loud, but work with me.

And then came this:

Dunno what she's looking at

This is wrong on SO many levels, but with all the wrong in the world, this makes all of it a little more bearable.

I'm out.

Uhmm...Why?

Uhmmm, ok. I don't know why we are not posting either. I don't have any excuses, other than life in itself is maybe getting in the way. But yeah, I'm still alive. I don't know about that other fellow, uhm, the "Best" Yet. He may be dead.

Oh well, what's been going on in my little life since the last time? Nothing much, other than school, and school. And a whole bunch of nothing. Maybe that's the reason why I haven't put up anything since I exposed my undeniable talent to you. I guess the entire world is still in shock and awe at my power. Well if that's the case, I won't disturb you. I will not try and bother you while you stare in admiration at my work of art.

Oh! Something weird and funny happened this week right in front of me. I was on my was to a friend's house (which I always am, since I am never at home, and hardly at school) and standing at the busstop. While I was watching the board to try and determine with late the bus would arrive after the time announced, I heard this noise behind me. So I turn around and see the GREATEST THING EVER.




Now please focus on this picture and tell me what's wrong. Don't see anything wrong? Well that's because you haven't been paying attention and you most probably suck at driving and at life like this guy here.

Now, for a little reminder. I'm standing at a busstop. He is PARKED IN FRONT OF THE BUSSTOP. Next. Now look closely at HOW he is parked. Wait, first let me explain. It's a two lane street. And I'm standing right on a corner, so where he is parked is where cars usually go when they are turning right. Again, he is PARKED in FRONT OF A BUSSTOP, in an area where cars are supposed to pass to turn right. Now let me direct your attention to the white dotted line that separates the two lanes. You see piece of it, right? Why not the rest? That's because he is PARKED ON IT. So now, he is parked in front of a busstop, at an intersection, on the white dotted line. Can he do ANY worse? Oh yes he can. If you notice, he is AT LEAST 1 meter away from the sidewalk. AT LEAST. Now now now. Come the F%@# on! And to top it all off, he got out of his car with a smile. Someone passing told him that maybe he should park his car a little better, and he was like "Nah, I'm good."

Now if I was a police officer, I would not take his license, or his car. I would take his life. That right there was a serious case of being a NIGGA. And it was an arab dude. Sigh, and they wonder why Sarko is trying to get rid of them.

Til' next time.

I'm out.

Undeniable Talent

I remember some time back, I don't remembe how long ago, I told someone that I had done a spanish exam that consisted of writing an essay. About anything. This was an opportunity I could not pass up. And I did not.

One thing I am happy for, is the fact that the teacher who gave us this exam has a much more open mind than I do, and most probably will ever achieve. God bless her heart.

Without further ado, I present to you: I Hate School.

I do not like school. Waking up early every morning to go and listen to people talk about things they know nothing about. To listen to people who have the power to decide whether you pass or not. I do not have much appreciation for teachers. And I know that they don't hold me in high regard either. But that is their problem, not mine.

I've not been having these thoughts very long. Only several years, like 3. As soon as I came to France, I noticed that the education system was very different to the one I was used to before I came here. The only thing that is missing here, are the teachers telling the students daily "I'm only here because I get a check to cash at the end of the month". I've known many teachers to tell me this. And it's one of the few times that they are being honest. But those who come to school everyday, who give class and do as though they love what they do even if alot of their actions tell a different story, those are the ones I do not like.

I don't hide the fact that I don't like school. I've always said it. I believe, since primary school, that I never liked waking up at 6 in the morning to go to school. But the difference between then and now, it is not cold in the Caribbean.

In the Caribbean, wait, first I need to explain where it is I am from, that way you can get a better idea of what I'm saying. I'm from a little island named Saint-Martin. Maybe you know it, maybe you don't. Doesn't matter. A small, two-sided, 37 square-miled rock. A French side, where I was born, and a Dutch side, where I went to school. My mom is French, my dad, Dutch. At home we speak 2 languages, English with Dad, French with Mom. Good, now enough about my family and back to the island. The island of Saint-Martin is very much like my family. 2 sides, 2 main languages, but the MANY nationalities being the only difference, but with the beautiful weather, the people are happy (most of the time). Waking up at 6 back then was not too much of a problem, because when it is 26° outside, it's better to be awake than in bed sweating. Here in Paris, that is not the case.

Let me take today as an example. For me to be able to make it to your class, I had to wake up at 6 am. Outside the temperature was around -1°. When you are comfortable in your bed, it's nice and warm in your room, you are sleepy, the LAST thing you want to do is get out of bed. But such is life, like the old people say. You have to get up, you have to go to school and listen to the teachers. And I do not like any of this. You can say that I am a tad bit lazy.

Mom always told me so, but that is my problem, not yours. I love to sleep, I do not like the cold. I believe that there are many people such as myself in the world. So Mom, if one day you read this: "I'm not lazy, I'm normal". That's the way I am, I don't like authority. I respect others, but I don't like when people say "Do this, not that; you don't have the right to do this, etc." Let me live my life how I feel like. I want to make my own mistakes and learn from them. Every time someone tells me not to do something, something clicks in my brain telling me to do just the opposite. And of course, I do it. Whatever the consequences may be.

That is most probably the reason I do not like teachers, school or people in general who tell me what to do. I do not like authority and I believe I will be this way until the day I die. Such is life like many would say. I think that every time someone tells me to do something, I will say no, and when they ask me why, my response will be "Such is life".

There you have it. My masterpiece. Basically we were allowed to prepare our text for that day, and then write it out properly and hand it to her. Note that this text was translated from spanish. Anyway, me being the perennial slacker that I am, I prepared nothing. I didn't even know what I would write about. So I just decided to put my pen to the paper and write. And this is what I came up with. Pretty original if I can say so myself. My only concern was that she may not like it, and might find it disrespectful towards her and her colleagues. Little did I know.

She graded it 17 out of 20. OH. MY. GOD. Yeah, I'm awesome. Did I add that she put "Very original and intellectual"? Oh well yeah, she totally said that. Yes, I am awesome.

But then again, she might be on crack. Oh well, 17 out of 20 it is. She can't take it back.

I'm out.