Getting to know the community

So for financial reasons, I work out at the local YMCA (and because they have an indoor, heated pool which you can't find anywhere in DC) which is a very good place to do your thing, if you do a thing! My only complaint is the the locker assignment process. For some reason every time I exchange my membership ID for a key to the new home for my belongings I find myself right door to the a disrobed older gentleman. EVERY TIME! There will be nobody in the entire locker room but the two of us and without a doubt, we will always end up in the corner, with little room to work, and the other guy is always NAKED!
During the warmer months, there are fans that blow cool air. On one occasion, I walked in on a bald and stout man who's belly looked as if it had been inflated by a bike pump and with one more pump it would explode! He had no hair on his head or hippity hop shapped belly and his skin was a light pink, like freshly spanked baby's bottom. This man turned the fan on himself and was standing necked in front of it with his arms outstretched like he was the lady in Titanic! I imagined standing behind him like Leonardo di Caprio and saying "doesn't it feel like you're flying?"
I quickly shook my head and turned up the music from my ipod in an attempt to get that image out of there!

THE REST OF MY SO CALLED LIFE (CAUTION: read part I before proceeding or you will have no idea whats going on!)

So Suki and I hit it off. She told me her father was a successful businessman who gave her whatever she wanted, but who was very controlling and demeaning so she ran away from home to live the life SHE wanted. Her eyes sparkled as her voice filled more and more with passion
with every heavily accented word out of her mouth. Out of the corner of my eye I felt a warm piercing feeling coming from the window. It was the sun coming up. We realized that we had been talking all night in the wherehouse cafeteria and that the gruel and bisquit served to us hours earlier were probably not edible anymore. I held her close as we watched the sun rise over the factory grounds. I felt a chill go through my body which I didnt quite understand then, but now understand as my male intuition telling me to not trust her, but the rest of my maleness said she's hot and fun to talk to. Those chills just came from the fact that youre too cheap to pay the gas bill so you keep the heaters off!" "Youre right" I said out loud and I kissed her like a sailor who had just got back from being out to sea on a ten year mission on a submarine (cuz they dont let women on those things!)

We would meet every day in the cafeteria and talk for hours. She was very descriptive in her dialogue comparing most everything to fire. "Your kiss is like fire. Your Mexican food is like fire. Your cat is on fire" and it was. Luckily I put it out.

I put her in charge of locking and unlocking the girls chains to their folding areas and she beat up our security guard so many times that he became so ashamed and never came back. She took over his duties also.

The following weeks, our storage vaults with thousands of Oragami birds, giraffes, boxes, and ak-47's were destroyed in a huge fire. Police raided my remaining stash that virtually put me out of business and freed my workers.

How could this happen? All that I had worked for gone! Well, at least I have Suki....Suki....SUKI! Could it be? It was all the sudden so clear. The police raids after SHE began managing my workshop. The incessant smoking she would do as we sat in the graveyard. The burning of my cat. The time she said "I like to burn things, its fun!"

I ran back to my office and there was a paper aflame on my desk. I put it out and read aloud "BURNED YA DIDNT I?" The hairs on my neck stood up and I felt a familiar chill go up my spine. I was followed. Tokyo secret police kicked down the door, slammed me on my desk and cuffed me. They took me downtown to the Juvenile Detention center (because I was only 12 at the time). There was a lot of yelling in Japanese, which I didnt understand, and then they locked me up with a boy who did nothing but grunt and drool. After years of minimum security lockdown, I learned Japanese, established my territory by the swingset, got some really cool Hello Kitty tatoos, and by trading meals and roughin up the right people, I received some really important information that crushed what was left of my soul into a small compact container so that it would take up very little space in a landfill where it will lay dormant. I found out from Kiko who heard from Quimono who traded 4 cigarettes to a guard to find out that Suki was a detective for the Tokyo police squad who had been following me for months and, get this, she was 32 years old! She told me she was only 27! Her father was also the newly made billionaire Tycoon (now that I was gone from the scene) Yakiko who ran Yoshimi Oragami inc.

I got a letter from her that said all kinds of crap like she had to do it because her fathers business was going under and she couldnt control her pyromaniac tendencies around all of that paper (which is how her fathers company went down!) She also told me she really loved me and has feelings for me and ended the letter "with a love that burns on, Suki." I never answered. Just like all fires that burnup all their fuel, the flame goes out.

Now here I sit in my cell with a bed, toilet and paper. Here is where I will once again build my dynasty. TP is not very easy to fold, but its soft edges make shapes that are very distinct to those currently on the market and when I get out in 12 years I will come out with a huge supply of a fresh new product that will put me back on top of the Oragami world.

I WILL BE BACK TO CLAIM WHATS MINE!
SUKIIIIII!!!!

Introduction to Adventure

Last week I went home to California to visit with friends and family expecting the hot sun, girls in bikinis at the mall and slurpees oozing out of the water fountains. After leaving the arctic winds of the east coast, I figured anything would be refreshing. Boy was I wrong!
It was freezing the whole week I was there and refused to heat up while in the DC metro area it was in the 80's! That was my sign. Just as I sought to escape adult responsability in DC, I now felt the need to escape my vacation and the depressing reminder that Spring has not yet arrived. So I bought a car and drove 3 days to get back to the land where my stress and responsabilities reign. Along the way there was a lot of time for reflection, goal setting and making plans for vengence and it is that which I wish to share with you.

MY STORY
The other day a new female acquaintance of mine sent me an email asking that I give her a brief description of my life story. I felt that my own life experiences can somehow benefit humanity and I dont feel like racking my brain for some other lame topic, so I decided to post it for all to enjoy. My name is Brian and this is my story:
PART I
I was born a poor asian boy on the Hard Knock streets of Hong Kong where I made and sold oragami on street corners. After years of hard work and stress I realized that I could recruit kids and old women to fold it for me in my own sweatshop and others to sell on the streets. My organization quickly grew and grew into a giant corporation and, although there were a few raids by the police on some of my shops, and a couple of court preceedings having to do with child labor laws, Killer B's Kamikazee Oragami was on top and nobody could bring me down, except for one person. A girl. Her name was Suki.

She worked downtown in shop number 723. As I walked by her folding area which was a 2 by 1.5 foot area on the floor so we could fit as many people in that abandoned meat packing factory, I noticed she was a lot slower than the other girls, but her hands were not scarred or welted from "encouragement" from our head "guidance counselor" Butch, so I called to him. There was no response. I called again and before I could completly pronounciate his name, she said softly without looking up at me or or stopping her work, "I beat him up. He is unconscious in the storage closet." I placed my hand on hers signaling her to stop. She looked up at me with eyes of like bolts of lightning that zapped me as if I were a criminal sitting in the electric chair of LOVE!

Instead of screaming illustrative profanities and pounding my fist on the ground, all I could muster out was "You really beat him up?" She nodded and looked down at the floor. I gently lifted up her chin with my hand, looked her in the eyes and asked her if she wanted to go get lunch with me. She said yes so I made her clock out before we went to the factory cafeteria....

*To be continued

END WORLD HUNGER, Quick and Easy!

The other day I was frequenting the local Shoppers supermarket, which I think is a great name for a supermarket, and while counting the pennies I had left after filling my gas tank with liquid gold and paying my credit card bill and while trying to think straight while my belly roared mightily in hunger, I had a true life saving experience....Ok, so I so hungry that I felt like I was gonna die! Ima real weiner when it comes to hunger! Me on the Gandhi diet is like a street fight between Chuck Norris and Dilbert!

As my stomach growls echoed throughout the store and drowned out the price checks from the loudspeaker, I searched vigorously for something to calm the beast. My knees began to shake and I felt like getting into the fetal position on the cold floor to breathe my last few breaths of life and go to that big buffet in the sky, but I saw something from the corner of my eye that gave me new life. It was a small box with the words "PASTA RONI" on it. Could it be that those Heavenly servants from San Francisco who has shared their treat with the world has come out with a new pasta dish? With what little strength I had left, I crawled past the Mac and cheese and Hamburger Helper to the Holy Grail of quick, Soccer Mom dishes. The words on the box made my spirit soar, it read:

"Garlic Alfredo PASTA RONI takes two trendy flavors and combines them to create great tasting creamy parmesan and garlic dish that consumers just love. And, Garlic Alfredo cooks in only 6 minutes!"

All this fer one U.S. Dollar!
My inverted tummy and my loose change in my pocket both screamed "get it man" and began to sing a joyous tune together as I made my way to the cash register!

I wish to thank the good people at Rice-A-Roni who have saved my life and continue to save the lives of people worldwide for a small, reasonable fee.

THE STRUGGLE CONTINUES
As the Founder, president and only member of the mustache movement, this past week I have felt a lot of pressure to fulfill my calling to regain the deserved respect facial hair brings.

There has been some opposition to the cause, for example as I went about my daily chores with the lip broom I heard whispers of pedafile, 70's used car salesman and even a co-woker announced in a crowded room that I look like an out of work porn star (little does he know how true he is!) Besides these few instances of sacrilege, there has been progress in overcoming the ingnorance that remains in our society. I think the most stunning discoveries I have made as a mustached male are those of the incredibly ironic inconsistencies of the female gender. They have been the most outspoken group to oppose this peaceful campaign, but once the furry catipillar crawled across the top of my mouth, they quickly changed their opinion and expressed their approval by running their fingers through it (it's getting long) and describing me with such words as "Debonair" and "Exotic".

One image that burns in my mind and keeps me going is from an episode of Night Rider I saw as a young boy. Michael Knight was a futuristic crime fighter who had a magic talking car named KITT (the extra T was for Technology) who would almost always save him from certain death (for more information see http://www.knightrideronline.com/wiki/doku.php?id=knight_rider ). In this chapter of Knight Rider, Mr. Knight's evil twin shows up on the scene, hijacks his car and causes all sorts of trouble in the world. Both characters were played by a young and upcoming actor in tightly clad pants and a full chest of hair named David Hasselhoff. But how would we know which man in tight jeans was Michael Knight and which was his sinister twin Jerry? The writers must have barely passed their creative writting courses in college because they decided to define the diabolic brother with a mustache!

I still feel distraught that a world leader with such power and authority as had David Hasselhoff would discriminate against a group of individuals because of a difference in physical appearance.

Stand up and be counted. Write a letter to your congressman today to stop the prejudice that continues!

Although the hair on the top of my head is thinning, I have been blessed with a face that covers itself quickley with lush, thick bristles. On occasion, I have grown out the beard out of sheer laziness and fear of the intense pain of razor-burn. Also, like most men, for some reason I find great satisfaction and accomplishment in acheiving something when I don't have to do anything!

I have begun a movement to free the male species (and some female) from the bondage of shaving. The mustache for too long now has been stereotypical of cops, childmolesters and other beloved individuals in our society. Have we forgotten the legacy of great world leaders who wore the broom like Ghandi, Teddy Roosevelt, and San Diego Padres Hall of Famer Rollie Fingers? I will admit that there have been a few evil dictators like Hitler, Saddam Hussein and Geraldo Rivera who became drunk with power and have led a people blinded by the glory of the mustache down a twisty road. Now People do not trust a stashed man. I am here to change that. My natural ability to get a five o'clock shadow before 3:15PM will help me lead men to reform our society. As a follower once said "we are taking back the mustache!"

WILL YOU JOIN US?

We also need the help of daughters, girlfriends, wives etc. The only complaint is that it tickles when kissed by a man with a furry face. Because of this minor detail, women badmouth the mustache. This kind of selfishness can ruin a man. Finding the lips may be a little more difficult, but when found, they are nice and warm and free of any debris. We need your help in this struggle. Besides, since when did a woman not like getting tickled?

If you wish to answer the call, send a check or money order of $19.95 for member dues to:

THE MUSTACHE MOVEMENT
411 North Fayette St.
Alexandria, VA
22314
USA