Life As Nick

I'm A Fuckin' Comedian.

Here's a couple laughs to rejuvenate this almost dead web site. Enjoy!

                                                                __________

1. I want to market a home pregnancy test that says in fine print, "May Cause Birth Defects".

2. Imagine if I opened a jewlery store called "Nick's Family Jewels". Could you guess what my new slogan would be? "Come see Nick's Family Jewels today!". Whatever it would be, I'm sure I'll offend somebody.

3. Speaking of slogans, here's a new one for NASCAR: "Fast cars for slow minds".

4. I'm going to name my first born son, Lucifer. When he's about seven I'll enroll him in a Catholic elementary school. Either I'll win a hefty lawsuit for discrimination if he's not accepted, or I'll give the priests a heart attack. To really seal the deal I'll tell them, "just call him Lou, and for God's sake, KEEP HIM AWAY FROM MATCHES".

5. New female masturbation reference: "snatch grease". Classy, no?!

6. Nick's failed business idea: Pizza On A Stick.

7. Chris Hansen from Dateline NBC's 'To Catch A Predator' has made finding acceptable women very difficult.

8. They say you should treat people the same way you want to be treated. Ok, fine. That's exactly what I told the judge in defense of grabbing that woman's genitals.

9. If God had a sense of humor then albinos would have black dandruff.

10. Do you think there is a conspiracy theory about conspiracy theories written by conspiracy theorists?

11. I heard a phrase the other day called, "the blind leading the blind". That doesn't sound so bad. Atleast it's not, "the blind driving the blind", now that would be a problem.

12. I caught myself talking to myself yesterday. If that wasn't bad enough, I said "well Nick, only crazy people talk to themselves". That's when I said, "you're right Nick, you're absolutely right".

13. Can vegetarians eat animal crackers?

            SUPERMAN: THE DRUG SMUGGLER

MEXICAN CARTEL DRUG DEALER GUY: "Ok, Mr. Americano, take 'dis white powder across U.S.A. border and give to El Jefe, ok? And stay off the radar 'dis time, comprende amigo?"

SUPERMAN: "Si, *errr*, I mean, OK!"

** Off he goes! **

"Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's Superman with ten kilos of cocaine!"

New Reality Shows

Every time I turn on the TV I am bombarded with commercials for new reality shows. All of them fucking suck. There is nothing *real* about watching Paris Hilton act like she's roughing it when she still carries around Gucci bags, her dog, and designer clothes. Don't even get me started on that Survivor bullshit either. Survivor is like an adult version of Boy Scouts. How fucking real is that? I'll tell you: it's not real. It's gay.

Because I'm so fucking brilliant, I'm going to suggest a few of my own "reality" TV shows. I'm bringing "reality" back into television. I took the liberty of compiling four scripts to propose to the three major networks. They want ratings? Well, I'll give them ratings that would turn Oprah into CSPAN. Even though I'm sure the FCC won't be too happy with my conceptual brilliance, so fuck them and their censorship campaign in advance.

PARIS HILTON: "Surreal Life, Compton Edition."

DESCRIPTION: Paris Hilton has to live by herself in a run-down, cockroach infested apartment in East L.A for three months. She gets $100, a gram of crack-cocaine, and some WIC vouchers and food stamps.

PREMISE: The Bloods next door are taking bets on who's gonna "tap that white girl ass first". The vatos across the street are going to try and jack her for the crack. What will happen? Will Paris succumb to the ghetto and be another homicide victim, or will she rise above the slums and become a respectable hood rat? (Is there a such thing as a respectable hood rat? Watch and find out!)

WHY IT'S A WINNER: Viewers will be able to call in to the network and place [illegal] bets. This should make things a little interesting and we'd attract more viewers on the potential of making money. Besides, who'd miss watching a pretentious, socialite, multi-million dollar heir getting gangbanged by the neighbors on prime time TV? We'd call the episode, "A Second Night In Paris" and make millions!

                                                        - - -

SURVIVOR: "Congo Jungle 2008."

DESCRIPTION: Ten unlucky contestants will venture into the African jungle and attempt to survive the elements for 25 days. "Elements" include, but are not limited too: deadly animals (spiders, tigers, snakes), lack of fresh food and water (none will be given), indigenous peoples, (pre-historic African tribesman. Think Crocodile Dundee mixed with Mike Tyson), and a lack of shelter and common conveniences. Oh, what fun!

PREMISE: No luxury hotels or amenities. This is the real fucking deal. If the contestants don't hunt some food down, they'll starve. Or atleast become cannibals in front of 50 million people. Think Survivor "Africa" was difficult? Try Survivor: "Congo". People are fascinated by reality shows. Well, this is the ultimate in "reality". No bow and arrow bullshit with people getting voted off -- you fight to survive... or you die on national television.

WHY IT'S A WINNER: Live cameras will be streaming over the internet 24/7 to provide web access to all the mayhem! A bushman will provide daily interviews with the contestants, which will be formatted into six, 30 minute episodes for the first season. The winner (or) survivor, which ever you prefer, will receive 5 million dollars. The others will be left in the jungle to figure their own way out.

                                                       - - -

AMERICAN IDOL: "I Wanna Be A Rap Star!"

DESCRIPTION: Entrants will perform a written or freestyle song dissing a professional rapper of their choice. Entrants will be judged on originality, creativity, believability (no wankstas, please), presentation (bullet proof vests, tattoos, mock weaponry, and gang signs are a plus), and of course, lyricism.

PREMISE: This American Idol bullshit is getting old and it's making superstars out of moderately talented people. AMERICAN IDOL: "I Wanna Be A Rap Star!" will add more excitement, and introduce the world to a plethora of ex-Jerry Springer contestants trying to become famous rap stars. Watching grown men "beef" about childish antics and degrade themselves on national television is a sure fire ratings winner.

WHY IT'S A WINNER: William *motherfucking* Hung, how the hell did this guy get famous? For singing "She Bangs" so horribly it would annoy a deaf person? Pshhh. Imagine if he was a rapper!? William Hung, a.k.a. 'The Hung One', or 'Bucktoof', or even something gangsta like 'Little Pistol Smoke'. If he was bouncing up and down in baggy clothes two sizes too big, shouting swear words and disses towards 50 Cent, we'd get higher ratings than CSI. This show is a definite winner because BET will want in on the action. Urban market: covered.

                                                       - - -

WHO CAN DRINK THE MOST:  "Beer Gluttons."

DESCRIPTION: Sure, some Asian guy can eat 50 hot dogs. Big fucking deal. My new reality show, Beer Gluttons will bridge the borders of alcoholism with pure, un-adulterated gluttony. Round one: 20 beers, 5 minutes. The [standing] winner will move onto the next round. Round two: 8 consecutive beer bongs of New Castle, washed down with an Arrogant Bastard Ale within 70 seconds. And that's only in the second round! The overall winner will be dubbed "The Tank" and be given a year supply of beer compliments of whoever is crazy enough to sponsor this wacky concept show.

PREMISE: Pretty simple -- drink as much beer as possible and get completely shit-faced on national TV for prize money and complimentary beer.

WHY IT'S A WINNER: People are going to be fascinated by the fact that someone can destroy a healthy liver in the first five minutes of the show. The fact that most contestants will need to be admitted to the ER with liver failure or alcohol poisoning afterwards will only add to the "realness". Besides, drunks are funny, right?

There you have it. Now that's "reality" for you. Any producers who are brave enough to pick up my idea(s) can email me and we'll work out a six-figure deal. Or a case of Miller High Life, whichever is more feasible.

Nick Does Poetry.

Roses are red
Violets are mild
Butt sex is wild
But atleast it doesn't cause a child!

Shakespeare doesn't have SHIT on me.

The Mystery Of Women Solved

Disclaimer: The following article is a sarcastic anecdote intended solely for enjoyment purposes. The jaded, and otherwise misogynistic author of this document, while having slanderous intentions, must remind you that his well-intended opinions have been furnished compliments of Miller High Life. Furthermore, by reading this document and applying it towards a woman, men may be subject to any of the following: injury to the groin area, restraining orders, sudden loss of clothing/hair, banishment, lack of sexual activity, nose bleeds, violent diarrhea, death by impalement, legal indictment, or at minimum, divorce.

You have been forewarned.

Before you go any further, grab a beer, put on a good playlist and tell your woman/girlfriend/slave that you are busy. You are doing 'man' stuff now.

Man has spent his entire existence pondering the laws of the universe. The Italian physicist, Galileo, spent the better part of his years perfecting a telescope that enabled him to make many astronomical discoveries. But ask yourself this question: who gives a shit about space? Many mysteries still exist right here on planet Earth. The most perplexing existence, still undiscovered, belongs to our own species: the woman.

Thanks to years of experience, I have studied "the woman" in their natural habitat. Through a rigorous trial-and-error process, I studied many a woman and came to find how their mind works (or doesn’t work). By understanding a woman’s psyche, I now have the ability to know what they want, something previously deemed impossible. As a result of these years of study and perseverance, I devised the following detailed strategy of attracting, capturing, handling, and taming the elusive beast known as "the woman".

Part I: Money.

If you go to any public event, you’ll see an unattractive man with a beautiful woman just about everywhere you look. Why does this happen? Do these men know something that all men don’t? No, of course not. There is only one reason for this: these men have a great deal of money.

Let's use one of the arteries of your heart as an example. In this metaphor, women are comparable to blood-sucking vampire bats that can never have enough blood until your vein is dry, your heart stopped, your body rotten and decayed, and your agony has seeped into every crevice of your soul. This is called the "heart break" for vacuous males.

Part II: The Big Dick.

Besides money, the most influential element in enticing a female is a big dick. You either have a big dick or you don’t. If you don’t, I don’t know what to tell you. Make more money, I guess? Hire a black guy? Pay Screech from Saved By The Bell to give her a Dirty Sanchez? Either your genetics work in your favor, or not. Or you need a prescription of Viagra and Cialis immediately.

Part III: The Vocab.

Money and a big donkey dick can only get you so far. There are several other aspects you must perfect in order to attract a woman. Your vocabulary is important. For instance, a proper greeting for a woman should be: "Hey baby, let me tattoo your face with my dick". This shows your vocal prowess.

Granted, such direct honesty and verbal wordplay might be met with harsh criticism, but your confidence far exceeds a woman's pessimism, right? Women are impressed with narcissistic arrogance. Generally, however, impressing a woman is as easy as talking about lawn care, things you find wrong with her appearance, or why Oprah is such a self-important day time negro.

Part IV: The Husband Card.

Now that you have a trophy catch you need to learn how to keep her around. First and foremost, make dowry arrangements. Just remember, hurricanes are named after women for a reason. Because when they arrive, they're wet and wild, but when they leave they take your house and your car. Nick's Man Law states: CYFA: a.k.a COVER YOUR FUCKING ASS.

So with that said, I'm going to provide a few anecdotes for dealing with an untamed woman and her FEMALE SPEAK:

HER: I love you
TRUTH: I can no longer take anything from you, so I will settle with what I got.

HER: I love our children! They remind me of you!
TRUTH: The testicular manslaughter that is our children are all thanks to your poor genetics. I want nothing to do with you.

HER: I care about you
TRUTH: But if you go broke, I will leave you and fuck one of your friends out of spite.

HER: I don't think I'm in love with you anymore
TRUTH: I fucked ten people and most of them can provide me with more orgasms, err I mean 'companionship'. You are wholly worthless and you're broke. Kick rocks.

HER: I will ruin your life
TRUTH: You are better than me. There is no logical reasoning why I want to attack you, but my emotional instability borderlines insanity so I want to justify my lunacy with inaccurate assumptions about your personality. Ultimately, I will fail in my quest for haphazard dominance and admit that I'm a psycho-whore. I will call you every weekend when I'm high and drunk just to remind you how much of a dependent whore I am. Then I'll stop calling because I met someone new. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, I'll call you again and tell you how much I hate my current ex as a sub-par way of getting your attention so I can fuck you again.

Nick's New Years Resolutions

Let's face it. New years resolutions are a crock of shit. I'd rather mainline Draino then listen to stupid guys and girls with their cockamamie resolutions. All of them are a variation of shit: "I resolve to lose weight", or "I'm going to work harder". When Martin Luther King assassination day comes around no one remembers what the fuck they wanted to resolve, so it's pointless. But since I'm a supernova of sexiness I thought I'd write some resolutions that I'll actually keep. Otherwise, I'll probably end up in jail.

1. I'm going to fart less.

If my ass was a weapon then my farts would be WMD's. My wholesome diet of salami, beer, pepperjack cheese, Cocoa Puffs, and Tina's burritos can literally condemn a room. I farted ten minutes ago and I can still smell it. They are like mustard gas topped with the odor of a Tijuana porter-potty. All the windows are open and I turned on the bathroom fan to no avail. Fact: my colon odor smells like a fresh autopsy. I need a biohazard sign tattoo'd on my ass cheeks. So in order to protect the ozone layer and my nostrils, I'm going to resolve to fart less in 2008.

2. I'm going to continue my Myspace addiction.

Social networking is about as addictive as black tar heroin. Nothing gets my boxers sweaty with anticipation like seeing a new picture comment! I like having my self-esteem validated with comments like, "U R SO HOT", "UR EYES R SO DREAMY!", and my personal favorite, "CAN I FELLATE YOU IMMEDIATELY!?". And I know everybody enjoys going to my Myspace profile and having instant seizures with all the glitter graphics, flash, and pictures while T-Pain is blaring through the speakers. Next year I resolve to continue my Myspace addiction and fill out more pointless surveys so all of you can remember that I like chocolate better than vanilla and I sleep naked with my stuffed animals.

3. I'm going to masturbate more.

The picture above is going to be me by Valentines Day. Masturbating is the greatest compliment I can give myself. I stroke my ego often by flexing in the mirror and admiring my muscular pecs, but in 2008 I'm going to stroke my man meat. Since hot girls who like sex are about as rare as black unicorns, I might as well save myself the trouble and finish myself off. Last time I checked my right hand doesn't have a disease, lie to me, nor does it require attention. It obeys my every command. So using ninth grade economics and a cost/benefit analysis between soggy vagina or Pamela Handerson it appears Pamela wins 9,560 to 0. Sorry ladies.

4. I'm going to be a compulsive liar.

I don't need a sexy image for that. Lying itself is an image that I'm going to uphold. It appears that lying is the pre-requisite with most cock holsters nowadays. If you can't beat them (that's domestic violence), I might as well join them:
LIAR: I bought a house!
NICK: I bought six houses!

LIAR: I'm wealthy!
NICK: I won the lottery eight times!

LIAR: I love you!
NICK: I love you, too.

NICK: I care about you on a meaningful deep level. It's not about sex, baby. I truly love you for what's on the inside. You are a special girl. Very smart, sexy, compassionate, everything I ever wanted.
LIAR: OMG NICK, U R SO NICE!!
NICK: HAHA BITCH, YOU SUCK! I WAS FUCKING LYING! DIDN'T YOU READ MY BULLETIN? IF YOU HAD THE ABILITY TO READ YOU WOULD KNOW THAT I AM A COMPULSIVE LIAR! HA HA! As Dave Chapelle would say, 'I'm rich BITCH!'

Looking In The Mirror

In the summer of 2005 I had this brilliant idea to invest in real estate. At the time, I was madly in love with my beautiful girlfriend and we were sharing a fully furnished 3 bedroom apartment in my hometown of Escondido, CA. I was blessed because not only was I living with the girl of my dreams, but my best friend in the world was living right next door. I was happy -- but I always sought more.

I am Nick. Nick is never satisfied. My brain works 24/7 and there is no 'off' switch.

So I came up with this wonderfully planned master idea of moving to a more friendly economical climate. The cost of living in California was astronomical and I was tired of paying $1,500 a month for something I could get much, much cheaper elsewhere. After boatloads of research we both agreed that north west Phoenix, Arizona would be the place. We already had friends out there so the transition was easy. Well, as easy as moving from state to state can be for a young couple that never moved farther than 30 miles from home. Our friends had bought a gorgeous 4 bedroom house in a developing area for $175,000. With my plan, my ex and I would have bought a house for about $215,000 if we timed the market climate correctly. Well, her dumbass left me and I was alone on my own.

Last year at this very same time my friends in Arizona sold their home for upwards of $400,000 and bought a beautiful mini-mansion. Unlike me and my demonslut ex, they are still together and very happily married.

So to say that I have the real estate foresight would be an understatement. I say this because I ran into my old principal from high school today. She looked at me with stone cold eyes and said, "you should be in real estate and sell people dreams". I told her my story as abbreviated as I could and explained why I am at home again, why I am in my current situation, and why I am desperately looking for that one chance to be great. I had that chance last in 2005. I had the opportunity to prove myself but I invested so much of my time and effort in someone else that ultimately my own plans crashed with that someone else. And now here I am, approaching Christmas, looking forward to absolutely nothing and remembering absolutely everything and wanting to be someone's real estate.

Santa Is A Pedophile

Does anyone ever question Santa Claus? Like really question his motives.

I think the fat son of a bitch is a pedophile.

I should seriously set up a sting operation for Dateline's "To Catch A Predator" on Christmas Eve, and if some fat man attempts to jolly his donut eating ass down our chimney with toys for children, we'll confront him. Because if no one else does, Mr. Nick a.k.a Chris Hansen will.

Think about Santa's intentions and lifestyle. He makes toys for kids. Ok, harmless enough. Then he breaks in to their houses/apartments/shanties, and delivers them. That makes him a Class A felon (breaking and entertaining/fleeing the scene of a crime, animal cruelty, etc). He eats cookies left for him (which is a form of low grade robbery, but still), and then magically disappears on his sleigh of reindeer. I'm sure PETA would have a field day with that.

He hangs out all year pimping elves to do his dirty work. That is child exploitation at it's finest (I bet they are Indian elves, ask the Gap. They hire Indian children, same difference).

And why is he a Saint? St. Nick? Aside from exploiting children, midgets, animals, and gullible people, he hasn't done shit. HE IS A MYTH! Mother Theresa was a fucking Saint. Now we give Sainthood to mythical heroes? If so, give Sainthood to Snake Eyes from G.I. Joe, he was a real American hero.

And whenever Santa mysteriously shows up at the same mall in seventy five counties at the same time, where does he ask children to sit? That's right ladies and gentlemen, on his lap. Why does he want children to sit on his lap? Because he is a four hundred year old pedophile, that's why.

And if you wonder why girls grow up to be slutty hookerfaces that expect free shit all the time, thank Santa. And when guys grow up and don't get exactly what they want and throw a bitch fit, thank Santa. This jolly fat son of a whore has ruined countless lives. And when kids are old enough to realize he doesn't exist, they'll ask their parents, "then why did that fat man in the Santa suit at the mall have a bulge in his pants when I sat on his lap?".

Killer Bees

I just had this dream about killer bees.

I was chillin' outside by my pine tree when all of a sudden I looked up and saw a bee hive with THOUSANDS of bees. I immediately took off running around the corner to avoid them. I guess that was a huge mistake because the flying insects of death began chasing me. I remember running inside, closing the windows, and trying to shut off the vents before they started breaking into the house. Then I woke up.

This got me thinking.

When was the last time you saw a bee movie? No, no, not the stupid animated one with a happy ending, but a real actual scary movie involving pissed of bees?

There are movies about werewolves, giant apes, spiders, aliens, snakes (ON A PLANE!!), zombies, sharks, and birds. But what about da bees?

If there are any amateur filmmakers out there, I'd like to propose a -killer- script that involves angry bees ruining mankind. I generally hate people, so making a movie about killer bees unleashing painful death upon the masses would be right up my alley.

The first scene would be this little old lady trying to back her Buick out of a handicapped spot. Suddenly the "ppzzzzzzzz" sound of a swarm of AFRICAN DEATH BEES approaches her, she panics, but she is TOO OLD and can't roll up her window OR drive away! So the bees begin mauling her and the last thing she says is, "the bees are stabbing me with their little knives!!!". Then the opening credits would roll.

Next scene: Little princess cock swallower is walking down the street happier then a pig in shit because she just cheated on her loving boyfriend when all of a sudden she looks up and wonders what that "ppzzzzzzzz" sound is. Her newfound vaginal confidence begins to break. The same girl who wouldn't talk to you if you weren't wearing a $750 Louis Vuitton purse is NOW RUNNING FOR HER FUCKING LIFE BECAUSE THE PISSED OFF BEES ARE GOING TO KILL HER. Cue to next scene: bees making a hive in her vagina.

I know some ex-girlfriends who can play that last part. Then I can get Samuel L Jackson to yell, "Them mutha fuckin bees buildin' mutha fuckin hives in the mutha fuckin vagina!!!!". Cinematic greatness. Anyhoo, good movie? Yay or nay?

The Possum Chronicles Pt. 2

As you can clearly see below, this depraved, villainous, nocturnal despot is hissing at me. This is the type of shit I have to deal with everytime I leave my crappy apartment complex. This is the same overgrown rat that has chased me, hissed at me before, and generally been a big pain in the ass. As you can see by his hiss-filled scowl, he was attempting to murder me. Luckily, I brought my digital camera. I used the camera flash on him and ran away like a girlie man. Otherwise, I'd be possum gumbo.

Next time, I'm bringing my Ginsu knife cutlery set. Possum stew and giblets for Thanksgiving, anyone? SOUNDS TASTY TO ME!

This is the nocturnal terrorist that threatens my safety nightly.

Being 24.

I'm a really smart person. That is not arrogance talking -- that is merely a confident point of view about my abilities and mentality. However, this comes with many people trying to live my life for me.

I overheard an ex-girlfriend once say, "Nick is so fucking smart... why doesn't he do something with it?".

Like I'm sitting here lubing up my thumbs so I can stick them up my own ass and spin in circles going, "Dur dee dur durr". That pisses me off so much. Yes, I am a sharp cookie, but just because I am sitting at home writing stories on Myspace doesn't take away from my brilliance. I am not "wasting anything". In fact, I am taking my time with my life because I can. I am perfecting my craft.

I'm not someone that rushes into life. I play my cards like a mental tactician. I see all the angles. I observe all the possibilities. THEN I MAKE MY MOVE. Just because I'm not a neurosurgeon at 24 doesn't mean I won't be one at 35.

It's like everybody expects people to do things instantaneously. I'm 24 years old. I didn't even figure out I had half a brain until I was 19. I wasn't an actual "man" until I was 21.

Now people tell me to be a writer. Great. Thanks. I'll get on that right away.

I wouldn't be writing the things I did unless I knew I had an audience. Granted, my audience is meager at best, but hey... everybody has to start somewhere. I can honestly say for the first time in my life I am setting in motion plans for ME that I WANT TO DO. This is the Nick Sterling show and I am running it full steam ahead. I'm not doing something for Sophia, or Cari, or my mom, or my best friends. Just for me, baby.

I can't knock on the office door of Maxim magazine or GQ and say, "Hi, I'm Nick. My Myspace friends think I'm a funny writer. Got any 6 figure jobs available?". Life doesn't work like that. It took me over a year to realize that I am who I am, and regardless of what other people think of me, I am going to go at my own pace because that is who I am.

I think it's juvenile to pass judgment on someone who is supposedly smart but doesn't do anything with it. Just because I'm not doing anything uber-important NOW doesn't mean I won't be doing something TOMORROW. Even if it's destined for me to be working at a grocery store the rest of my life then atleast I'll be a damn good father. Maybe I won't be a millionaire at 26 like I wanted, but atleast I am a millionaire in heart because of the types of friends I have made and kept for years. And shit, even if I'm on Myspace writing stupid bulletins ten years from now, atleast I'll become a better writer in the process. I do everything for myself and never for the perception of what someone may think about me. That is my process.

I look at some of my ex girlfriends and observe their process. I disagree with everything they are doing -- but hey, this is their life and who am I to pass judgment on what I see RIGHT NOW? That is what unevolved people do. I try to focus on the bigger picture of everything. My ex's may be hitting mental roadblocks now but they will get out of them and become everything I envisioned for them, if not more. I loved them for a reason because I saw that potential.

And if it takes until 40 for me to finally put my brain to use, then fine. I'd much rather spend decades improving my brain so when the time comes to finally use it I am at my highest point.

So when I meet a special girl, I am the best boyfriend.
So when I get married, I am the best husband.
So when I have kids I am the strongest father for OUR child.
So when I help raise our children I am the most wise.
So when I put forth my work ethic I am the best leader.
So when I decide to smile, I am the most happiest.
So when I decide to leave this life I do so with a sense of accomplishment.

SHIT TAKES TIME. All of you trying to fast forward your lives really need to slow down and appreciate the downtime while you have it.

I have it at 24. And I'm only getting smarter.