Month: July 2010

One of my biggest pet peeves in the world (other then self-entitled, spoiled rich girls) is censorship. I believe that every single human being no matter what race, creed, heritage, class or sex has a different opinion of what is personally acceptable and what is considered “crossing the line”.

I take a more liberal approach on taste because I simply don’t possess the ability to give a fuck. There has never been anything written on the internet or spoken to me directly that made me think, “I want to punch this dick jockey right in the bread basket”, nor would I get upset enough to tell someone my *feelings*, whatever those are.

It took me a few years to understand the impact of using words as a communication device and how they might be translated, but being that I have this noble occupation of attempting to be a writer (and that’s all this drivel is, an attempt at failure), I encounter a plethora of people who take issue with some of the things I say. I fully admit that sometimes I’m a little crude. Yes, maybe dead baby jokes aren’t the best ice breaker (see the image at the bottom of this article for the best baby joke, EVAR!!!). Potentially telling a girl she has aerodynamically enhanced mammary glands is probably not a proper way to compliment a woman’s appearance, but whatever. Regardless of the content, I have a specific, unique voice. This is the personality that you know as Nick Sterling taking shape. If you don’t vibe with it, go kick water uphill.

I make it very clear that I don’t give a fuck what people think. It takes very thick skin to speak your mind and still be in the up-right position. I’ve been arrested for being a dick to authority figures. I’ve been knocked the fuck out and sometimes I get cussed out by some uppity mom  that hasn’t had a black cock in a long time. By now I’m pretty much use to it. Those are intrinsic human responses from human beings who can’t manage their feelings of anger. “MONGOL MAD! MONGOL SMASH!”

I still can’t comprehend why people think their opinions matter. My favorite is when people tell me (and its always a woman), “you can’t say that!“. Who died and made them ‘Queen Shit’ on Turd Mountain? Since when did my first amendment right become so black and white? Just because I said I wouldn’t fuck a girl with a bag of stolen, AIDS-encrusted dicks, doesn’t mean much more than I wouldn’t fuck a girl with a bag of stolen, AIDS-encrusted dicks. There’s no deeper interpretation to that. There’s no hidden meaning. You’re ugly and I think you possibly scare little children away with your hideous looks. Ironically, the girls that respond to those remarks (in haste) are often the girls that say how much they value honesty. And they’re always fat and ugly.

Next time, I’ll lie. But only when its acceptable, of course.

There’s a second group of people I fondly refer to as, “My Selfish Admirers”. These are people who love when I go Mel Gibson on other people. They see the humor and entertainment value of my words. “Oh em gee, Nick! I LOLSKIEZ at ur funny story!!!“. These people don’t realize their affection towards my creativity doesn’t make them immune to it. When they cross me or act like moronic throwbacks of evolution, I use that very same creativity against them. Suddenly, they play a different tune. “I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS, BRAH? WHY DID U SAY THAT TO MAH GURL! DON’T U KNOW I LOVE BERTHA?!?! SHE MY ONE AND ONLY!!!”. They are cool with me expressing myself as long as it doesn’t reflect on them negatively. Ultimately, I know these people are phantoms in my life. They don’t give a shit about me or what makes me tick, they simply leech off my humor until it backfires on them.

My other favorite type of people are the “Closet Cool People”. These are the weekend warriors that fuck like they invented sex, get insanely drunk or high and then go to school/work on Monday morning and talk about how awesome their weekend was over the water cooler all PG-13 status. Yet, when they are confronted with their behavior (positive or negative), they shush you and say, “don’t talk about that! I might get fired!” or on Facebook they say, “Nick, you can’t say that. My dad is on here!”. So? At what point do you realize that your image is falsely contrived? My mom reads this web site. I like my mom some times, but she’s still a fucking idiot. I’m 27 years old. What is she going to do, ground me for saying that? Take away my GameBoy? Psh. If she doesn’t like what I say, then she either needs to get her shit together and not be an idiot, or don’t read it. Simple. As. That.

You think Mommy and Daddy WarBucks don’t know that you’re a little hookerface? Generally, parents are very intuitive. They’ve been dealing with liars and pretend winners their whole life. They can see right through your facade. Typically, your bullshit rolls downhill. If I know about it, they probably know twice as much. I’ve learned that being true to yourself, no matter how offensive you might be perceived, is still the best way to maintain credibility and honor. My bosses at work know I’m a drunktard. My mom knows I think she’s mentally handicapped. My ex’s know how I think they are someone else’s cum dumpster. The girl I am going to stick my penis in (and out of) for the rest of her life has a pretty good idea of what type of hot mess she’s getting herself into. I like knowing I can walk into any situation in life and be myself and that’s whats expected of me. I can’t be a Neil Caffrey because I’d honestly lose track of all my cons. Yet, most people live a lie every single day of their life. What’s the value in that?

Finally, a guy comes along who speaks his mind without guilt. Sure, it’s blatantly honest and very blunt, but would you rather deal with a guy who says what he thinks, or someone who doesn’t?  To me, it’s all misplaced sensitivity. America – The Sensitive.

Grow the fuck up, people. Don’t take life so seriously. You might not make it out alive.

The Fourth of July is my favorite holiday. There’s no way to go wrong when you combine explosives, alcohol, and huge amounts of unhealthy food together. What better way to celebrate the liberation of our nation from the oppressive bonds of economic servitude than by getting trashed on Miller High Life and accidentally burning our houses down? It’s also the only time of year that my Mexican neighbors are nice to me (probably due to the mysteriously unifying effects of a national holiday) and invite me over to nervously drink all their beer and make everyone ask, “who’s that guy with?”

Here in San Diego, the 4th is always pretty dangerous. Granted, it’s the city in the US with the least amount of US citizens, but everyone enjoys a party (I know I’d be celebrating Australian Independence Day if I was there), and people here enjoy a party by shooting their guns into the air. I’m sure this practice is relatively common in small towns of Texas and Montana as well, but there aren’t 14 million people per square foot in those towns like there are in SD. And while I have participated in this immature display of American celebration, I have to come down on the side of the “no shooters”. A bullet comes down with the same force it has when it’s fired, so essentially, it’s like firing into a random crowd. This might be cool for Communist Chinese Police and gang initiations, but as a means of expressing patriotic exuberance, it’s to be filed under “poor ideas.”

Another 4th of July tradition that sucks is parades. Get a bunch of people, line them up on either side of the street, and then drive huge semi-controllable vehicles in between them. To make things a bit sexier, prop the high school county sausage queen on a fire truck and make her throw melted tootsie rolls at the cheering crowd. I suppose it’s designed to be an event that makes people forget their petty differences/prejudices/hatreds/perverse sexual urges, and brings them together as a unified subset of a unified nation, but parades still suck, and I refuse to participate in such boredom. For me, a parade is a time to reflect on the past, focus on the present, and go from backyard to backyard to see if any one of my dignified neighbors have tapped their kegs yet.

But I can see the good in a national holiday. I don’t subscribe to a boring “celebration of revolution by white upper class repressive Christian bully boys” philosophy, (even though it is slightly valid) because it ruins the fun of drinking and being nice to people whose shoes I normally wouldn’t cross the street to piss on (aka The Neighbors). So, our country is kinda screwed up. It’s always been screwed up, (people always long for the “good ‘ol days”. The “good old days” were a time when people were comfortable with the particular way things we’re screwed up at the time). It’s slightly reassuring to know our country isn’t quite as screwed up as a lot of places, and that we can sometimes get along with each other when alcohol is plentiful. It just sucks we only do it on calendar cues.