Offensive Bile regurgitated from the Avatar of Death Himself

2005-08-11T04:24:00.000-07:00

Sex and a Sandwich!!!!
This, my friends, is my new goal in life. But not just any old sandwich will do. There is a bar not far from where I work that serves the best sandwich ever and it is called a Bordellino (that’s probably not how you spell it but that is not the point of this post). I have become quite enamored with this idea since I thought about it. Imagine if you will, enjoying some of the ol’ slap-n-tickle and eating a delectable sandwich that is a scrumptious amalgam of bacon, chicken, and steak smother in melted mozzarella and whatever other toppings you so desire. My birthday is coming up and this is what I am going to request to any and all potential female companions for that evening. After that, I actually may die, because everything else on this earth pales in comparison. You see, this is such an intriguing idea because it merges two of my most favorite things, sandwiches with the greatest meats ever put together and coitus. Ingenious in its simplicity, it is. I am so awesome; I should have my own country.

-Azrael

2005-08-05T01:00:00.000-07:00

I recently have been getting into new comics and have found something I thoroughly enjoy in the form of the Exiles. They are reality-hopping team of alternate reality mutants that go in and fix broken realities, ala Quantum Leap style. They are like the X-men except they go into different time streams. I know I know, I am a huuuuuuge nerd. But I am ok with that. I have found two things that bring me happiness in this world, mutants with a little Quantum Leap, which is a show I used to love growing up. Fuck off, its my site, let me revel in my geeky fantasies. Oh, and the blue girl is friggin badass, if I ever find a girl with blue skin, I proposing. Oh and Babyshaker and I have found a new variation to our fun word game. Since funny sounding multi-syllabic words are easy to find, we have narrowed our game down to finding words that are fun to say but are only one or two syllables. Here is what we have come up with so far:
Pithy
Rancid
Colecock/Coldcock
Puke
Urine
Yes we are tremendously juvenile, but when you have the jobs we do, keeping a little insanity in our lives helps to preserve our overall reason in the end.

-Azrael

2005-07-31T22:01:00.000-07:00

Before I get to today’s blizogging let me first say that I have been so apathetic about pretty much everything here lately, that I did not feel like doing anything… at all… period, and that includes updating this blog. And as an aside, the anger/discontentment from my last post is what has since transmutated into this chronic sickness known as apathy and has resulted in my inspiration for this post. Now that I have gotten that out of the way, lets get on with the show. I have recently become so disillusioned with my life that I find it hard to even get out of the bed in the morning due to the fact that I have no motivation. I go through spurts like this, where I have desire to do anything outside of my little haven, and prefer to simply sit around the house scantily clothed (because my apartment is extremely hot considering I don’t have A.C. because retarded ass Italians don’t believe in it, and that combined with their inability to keep their hygiene reputable makes for a very pissed off Azrael when in their presence) sweating my tits off. I have found solace only in reading a veritable mountain of graphic novels that I have accumulated in the past few weeks due to my wanton online shopping binges on Amazon. I have bought many trades I remember reading as a kid or some that I merely thought would be good stories, so I have kept my ever present anger/depression at bay with this very affective tactic. That, combined with my video games(namely Marvel vs Capcom 2) and the new O.C. season 1 box set(yes i like the O.C., i cant get enough of Rachel Bilson or Adam Brody-whom i can relate to), I have been suffeciently entertained, creating a world where i dont have to deal with my problems. I suppose you are probably wondering to yourself, “Self,” you say, “why is such a strapping lad and would be world conqueror like Azrael pissed off and apathetic and feeling a general malaise with his life?” Well I am glad you asked that. I shall tell you. I have different stages I go through in my life. It is a pattern I have seen repeated in my life for quite a few years and I am sure it will continue to be so until I die (when I’m 30). I have currently cycled through and am currently at stage one. This is my self-loathing, brooding, reclusive, lets-retreat-from-reality-because-my-own-life-sucks-too-bad stage that first appeared in my early teen years when I was a geeky kid with glasses and a flattop and was really into comic books. Next comes my self-righteous, arrogant, over-confident, rebellious, insecure-yet-tends-to-compensate-by-being-a-huge-dick stage. I first experienced this one back when I was about 14 and it carried on over until my later teen years. This stage contains what I consider to be some my best memories (first got big into skating, started dating girls that others considered out of my league) and yet when I look back on how I treated people I am also riddled with guilt so its kind of a double-edged sword. I have been at this stage before after I joined the navy and it usually surfaces when I find something I am good at and become condescending about it, thinking myself untouchable. The next stage is the humbled, contemplative, brooding (version 2.0), repentant, lonely, still-a-little-self-righteous stage. This usually happens after I am taken down a notch or two by some strange occurrence in my life, and am seemingly humbled by it. It is in this stage that I usually find most of my inspiration for my writings, and have fine-tuned most of my writing into some decent stories, poetry, and the like. I still have some of the confidence from the previous stage but it slowly dissipates into nothingness in the end and subsequently leads to the next stage. The next stage in the final installment to the evolution of Azrael’s state of consciousness. This is the shy, backward, extremely-lonely-yet-yearns-to-experience-life-in-all-its-forms stage. I usually enter this stage when I have been cooped up inside myself for too long and finally emerge from my emotional cocoon wanting to go out all the time and experience new things, and get drunk and party yet am too shy to be that outgoing. That stage usually ends when I achieve what I set out to do, and then I step back and (re)realize that that lifestyle is very unfulfilling, which usually kicks me back down into the first stage, wash rinse repeat. I know what you are thinking now, “paging Doctor Fruade!!” oh well, Ill be dead by 30 anyway so who cares.
-Azrael

2005-07-20T22:56:00.000-07:00

I am hereby ordering all females that read my posts to click this link(http://www.thebestpageintheuniverse.net/c.cgi?u=lyingbitch ,in case the link doesnt work). I will give you a minute to let it all sink in. See that!! We are on to you! Every one of your little faux annotations have been noted and have been well documented by one with greater wisdom than most. I have been the nice guy most of my life and have had my perverbial ass handed to me by girls claiming they want a “nice guy” and yet when they have one, they don’t want him or see him as “just a friend”. Get the fuck out of my face with that shit!! The typical woman does’nt really want a nice guy, she wants a guy that will treat her like a slut and degrade her to the point where she cries herself to sleep every night because the jackass she fell in love with doesn’t appreciate her and she hopes against hope that he will one day reach this great epiphany and transmutate into that nice guy she always dreamed about and the both of them will live happily ever after... Tra la la la. New flash!!!! It won’t happen…EVER! So bottom line, stop all of this nice guy shit, you know its crap, I know its crap. Lets move on. Now I come to the guys. I now command each male reader to click this link(http://www.thebestpageintheuniverse.net/c.cgi?u=music_cool , in case this one doesnt work either). Now lets take a moment to let this sink in. if you are one of these guys, I demand that you jump out the nearest window and make the best effort you can at landing on your head. If at first you don’t succeed, get up, dust yourself off, and attempt said mercy suicide from a higher vantage point. Wash, rinse, repeat until desired death has been reached. You see, there is an over abundance of these cuntrags in the world right now, many of which are living right in Gaeta, and are ironically in the navy. But the ones here are worse. The ones here have all the same symptoms as the ones in Maddox’s post, but with one small difference. The hormonally charged American males here are members of a secret organization of homosexual men. Its strange, there is a whole clique of them that all exhibit the same characteristics. But of course, the king and queen of this realm of pseudo-macho closet rump-rangers are two individuals me and Babyshaker have affectionately named Ace and Gary. Due to the gaggle of homo-eroticism they display in public, while also trying to convince everyone around them that they are the most testosterone-filled members of the male gender since Vin Diesel, who ironically is apparently bi. To learn more about these two I suggest you read Babyshaker’s post about them. Ace and Gary (the other names we gave them were Chip and Meriweather) are the type of guys that wore varsity jackets in high school and would give guys like Smiley swirlies just because he was on the debate team, or try to pick fights with skater punk guys like me because… actually I don’t know why they would do that, but they did. These same *insert whatever sport is most popular is high schools name here* stars would be the same fellows that would get funny feelings while in the locker room after a game and when subjected to the musky, man-meat filled environment and take out their bi-curious frustrations on the previously stated fellows described above. And just like in high school, Ace and Gary feel the urge to pick fights with the former debate teamster and skater-punk when they become inebriated because we don’t wear *insert whatever preppy brand of clothes is most popular at the time*and enjoy trading shirts in the middle of a bar just to show off what muscles they think they have. After I change my name to Victor Von Doom and become ruler of a country of my choosing that I will then rename Latveria, then subsequently become ruling monarch of the entire world, people like those stated above will be publicly executed and their mangled bodies defecated upon.

-Azrael

**Disclaimer** Azrael is in no way shape or form a sexist, racist, or is other applicably named bigot. He is an equal opportunity hater of stupidity and desires nothing more than to rid this planet of said disease and aspire for world domination in hopes of achieving these dreams of his.

2005-07-14T23:07:00.000-07:00

My superior intellect and much higher maturity level not-with-standing, let me first start this post by saying Babyshaker eats his boogers. Well I feel better… So on with the update.
I have had the distinct pleasure of viewing the best comic book film ever by the name of Sin City, based on a superb graphic novel by Frank Miller of the same name. It is far and away the most accurate translation of a comic book to have ever hit the big screen. I was thoroughly impressed, and yet am completely unsurprised that such phenomenal directors such as Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez would make such a smashing success out of such a pulp fiction (ba-dabump-bump-tish) graphic novel. The women in the movie were stunning, even that crooked faced Devon Aoki. Of course, the queen of the eye-candy was most assuredly…. wait for it… Jessica Alba. Now before you go and say "Azrael is jumping on the Jessica Alba bandwagon" let me stop you right there. I have been completely infatuated with the half Mexican, half Danish/French vixen for quite some years. I remember watching her on an old Nickelodeon T.V. show called “The Secret World of Alex Mac” in which she played the bully girlfriend of the male love interest of the show. Then we fast-forward a few years to her role in the mid-90’s remake of Flipper. Granted, the movie was the cinematic equivalent of smegma, and yet I sat through it just because she was hot. Fast–forward another few years to a campy horror comedy called Idle Hands. She was absolutely gorgeous and me being about the same age as she, I was continuously impressed with how much hotter she was becoming. From there, she went on to be in a few other movies that I saw due to my undying affection for said movie goddess. I have all of the episodes of Dark Angel and was pissed when they cancelled the show. She played a rather good badass. I have yet to see Fantastic Four, but will at my earliest convenience, as I am positive her role as Sue Storm will be*snicker* titillating as usual. At any rate, I am not one of those mindless retards that say, Jessica Alba is the new*insert latest popular girl’s name here*, I wanna bone her. I always was a fan of hers and will continue to be so until she marries me. Once she sees my mutant powers and Jedi skill, she will fall instantly in love with me, and we will live happily ever after. So to sum it all up, Sin City was good, Jessica Alba is hot, I am happy.

-Azrael
* provided anyone actually still reads my posts, which I doubt, sorry for the lack of updates. My job has left me spent, too spent to sit in front of my PC in my office in longer than i have to. So you all may leave your comments in my comments section if anyone still actually is reading at this point. What can i say, i need my *ahem* ego stroked.

2005-07-12T00:22:00.000-07:00

Forgive the lack of updates, my minute fanbase. I have been rather busy with work and trying to get out of work, and subsequently, not working. It’s been a lot of work. You see, I hate my job. Not particularly because of what the actual occupation, but rather because of the environment in which I perform said job. Doing what I do for the navy (and have done for the past four years) would make me much richer than I am and yet here I lay, disgruntled, disheveled (emotionally), discombobulated, and detached from my life as whole. Those are the only “d” words I could come with at this time. But my journey through this hellish plane known as the military has not been for naught, it has also been fraught with revelations and epiphanies throughout. I have come to realize many things about my life that I was unaware of at the tender age of 19/20. When I came into the navy, I was with this beautiful young, virile succubus with whom I was dearly in love with. I was even prepared to bound our immortal souls together in holy matrimony, but many uncontrollable elements contributed to our relationship blowing up, creating a raging inferno of emotional pain and anguish, not the least of which was her slutting around while I was in boot camp. As you can imagine, that had a very detrimental effect on our pending nuptials. Having said all of that, it brings me to the first realization that I came to in my time working in the navy. And that is this: I have become faaaar too untrusting/selfish to get married anytime soon. That relationship has shown me that I was not meant to engage in such a permanent bonding as marriage because of the grueling torture I was put through for the duration of the aforementioned relationship and the scarring resulting thereafter. It left me distrustful, and very dour when it comes to relationships in general. You might be wondering what this has to do with my time in the military, as it is obviously the point in this entry. Well I’m glad you asked that, I shall tell you. Had I not separated myself from this manipulating she-devil, I might have married her and would have become miserable, having my soul slowly drained from my body. Being away from her showed me there is another life outside of the small burg in which I grew up, as well as the kind of person she really was, which was not the endearing little vixen that I fell for, but rather a wicked, betraying Lilith that is incapable of caring for anyone other than herself. But hindsight is 20/20 and all that so, lesson learned. On a similar note, I hate kids, but that has been thoroughly addressed in a previous post.
I have also come to the conclusion that while I enjoy working on computers in my spare time, I do not, however, enjoy doing the same work as my everyday job. Or maybe it’s the people that I work for that have put this acrid taste in my mouth. Either way, I do not wish to continue to do this same job when I get released from this proverbial prison. So thats two good things that have come of my time in the military.
The rest of my individual revelations can be summed up as the following:
- Having lived in Europe, I no longer see the hype. And therefore have no more desire to travel Europe once I leave.
- I don’t really like old people all that much, except of course for my family members.
- Or Italians.
- Or Romanians.
- Or most Americans.
- Or people in general.
- There is no place like the U.S. or to be more specific, the south.
- I actually DO like cats.
Anywho, I’m off. Destined for another adventure in trying to make this world a better place by using my powers for the side of truth, justice, and the Azrael way.

-Azrael*** This pic is of me and some of my people getting tanked at a local bar in Gaeta this past weekend. You might be wondering to yourself, “ Self,” you say, “why is it the only pics Azrael posts are of him and his friends drinking?” Its quite simple really, that is the only time me and my friends take pictures. That, and the fact that there is nothing to do in Gaeta but drink.

2005-07-05T03:02:00.000-07:00

Well my Fourth of July blew chunks. I spent said holiday sleeping in my stateroom, only to get up in time to go to watch and observe a rather brilliant pyrotechnics display from the brow of the ship with an M14 strapped to my back, within earshot of all the drunken American sailors hooting and hollering from across town. Happy friggin Independence Day to me. I also had the distinct pleasure of hearing some children on the flight deck whose parents had brought them out to the ship to let them partake in the annual, nation-wide tradition of pyromania. These particular ankle-biting rugrats were less than elated to be out there watching the big scary fireworks. I heard their shrill wailings from all the way on the other side of the topside deck, to which I wanted to take the buttstock of my gun and ram it down some child’s throat. Now let me get one thing straight, I do not in any way hate children. I am the godfather of a very beautiful now five-year-old girl living back home in Georgia named Natalie and I love her as if she were my own. Her father, who is also my best friend, made me her godfather and I have been around her ever since the day after she was born, but I am deviating from my point. I do not hate kids, I do however hate whiney little piss ants that cry and moan when they do not get their way. These kids were complaining the whole time on the flight deck before the fireworks show even began, and then stepped it up to a full blown tantrum after they started, and the parents did everything in their power to stem their children’s panic attacks, but to no avail. It was that moment that reaffirmed my decision in never having children of my own for fear of their inability to sustain injuries I would impart upon said younglings if they were to flip out like these little nose-miners did. Then I got to thinking; there are better ways to get revenge upon your children than public thrashings. I would just simply embarrass them as they do me. How would I do that you ask? Im glad you asked, I would give them names that would cause them to be berated for their entire life. Upon reaching the revelation, I began thinking of names that I would give my future children to ensure they are the subjects of ridicule throughout their childhood. The following list is names I came up with (or have heard at some point) to help me in this venture:
For girls - Fanny Soggybottom
- Thanksgiving Mammary
- Christmas Buttocks
- Crisabel Bojangles
For boys - Megatron Starscream
- Cobra Commander
- Gundam Voltron
- Magus Sephiroth
- Shunty Rumpypipe
I find these names sufficient in helping to achieve my goal of revenge on children that will for years and years irritate and torment me with their incessant whining and needy personalities. I feel vindicated already.

-Azrael

2005-07-04T09:24:00.000-07:00

I have rather enjoyed my three-day weekend. I got to grow myself a little goatee, got to go to Naples, got to witness ambiguous acts of homosexuality from former high school jocks, got to sample Trent Reznor's new album entitled "With Teeth", and got to watch one of my favorite movies of all time, that I did not even know they had on DVD, Dazed and Confused. Now it’s that movie that motivated me to make this post.
I saw this cinematic joy years ago when it first came out, but as time passed, it was lost and forgotten in a maelstrom of teen angst and … ahem… other substances, (ironic that). I recently rediscovered this movie on Amazon.com and had it ordered a few weeks ago and it arrived on Friday and I came in to get it on Saturday, hence why I posted this weekend. So being elated that I would get to vicariously relive my teenage years by watching a movie that was astonishingly comparable to my own life at that point, I skidaddled (another fun word, gotta add that one in) home and popped it in my DVD player. After having watched it, I came up with this list of remarks about certain aspects about the movie I consider to be significant, or just amusing.

- The scene at the beginning, where the last bell just rang, and their teacher is giving them one last nugget of wisdom as they meander out into the hallways, “…And this summer, when you’re be inundated with all that American bicentennial brouhaha “(there’s that word again)” don’t forget what your celebrating. That’s that a bunch of aristocratic white males… didn’t want to pay their taxes.” Seeing how today is Independence Day, I found that quote to be especially fitting. Good point too.
- Nearly all of my friends (past and present) remind me of some character from this movie. Now I am unsure as to what that speaks of the caliber of people I choose to hang out with, but I find it is best not to dig too deeply into this one.
- Smiley is the geeky blonde guy Tony that blatantly hits on the underage, freshman girl whose name escapes me.
- The kid who plays Mitch Kramer pinches the bridge of his nose at least fifteen times throughout the whole movie, 7 of which were in the window of about 60 seconds.
- Matthew McConaughey was portrayed as the single coolest character in the movie. That being said, looking at his character from the point of view I have now, I see how truly pathetic he really was. Ponder upon this if you will, his character had graduated high school at least two or three years before the movie was said to have taken place, all of his friends were high school kids, in most of scenes he was in toward the end of the movie there was always some mention of his “glory days”. He was in one scene with a pack of cigarettes rolled up into his sleeve. His most notable quote was:” The thing I love about high school girls is the older I get, they still stay the same age.” I rest my case.
- The soundtrack to this movie is one of the best I have heard in quite a while.
- This movie has several of the same actors as another of my favorite mid-90’s flicks, Mallrats.
- Milla Jovovich plays really good stoner.
- Joey Lauren Adams should be in more movies.
- As should Michelle Burke.
- As should Parker Posey.
- Ben Affleck should not be in more movies.
I probably should have posted spoilers at the top of the page to accommodate anyone that has not seen the movie, but if you haven’t seen the movie, you probably would not be at my site in the first place. Plus its my site, I do what I want. Now allow me to impart my own nugget of wisdom as i draw this post to a close. In the immortal words of David Wooderson(Matthew McConaughey's charactor), "you just gotta keep livin. L-I-V-I-N."

Azrael

*sidenote to Pixie* allow me to be the first to congratulate you on being the first girl to ever be inducted into mine and Smiley's group of elitist superheroes simply named "Tunamelt". After long and arduous deliberations, we have concluded that are worthy of this honor for the following reasons:
- you are sharp-witted and articulate, a trait not commonly found in people(much less females for some reason) in the area we live in.
- you use many of the same words we do in our "game of funny words".
- you speak of your own nudity with no sense of shame or modesty, a quality we at Tunamelt see as endearing.
- you like comic books.

2005-07-02T09:39:00.000-07:00

OK, seeing how i rarely come in on my off time during weekends, this particular update should be veiwed as a rarity indeed. I will certainily continue to update this site on monday, but the weekends i do not feel like dragging myself out to come to work to update my site, being that i dont have web access at home. At any rate, me and Smiley (A.K.A. Babyshaker, see link) have a game that i shall now impart onto you, my miniscule fanbase. We are always trying to think of words that are fun to say. Think about it, such linguistic gems as kanoodling, or grimace are entertaining to say. So with that in mind, i shall now give you our (mine and Smiley's) top ten list of words that are fun to say: *** this list is in order from least to greatest***
fellatio
myriad
colloquial
obsequious
befuddled
rigmorale
bruohaha
foible
cous-cous
daffodil
You would be hard pressed to come up with funnier words than these. Go ahead, I dare you.

-Azrael

2005-06-30T14:46:00.000-07:00

Well, judging from my comments section, I actually have people that read my obsequious bile, even notorious Pixie Martin herself. I was thinking of a good entry for today and ran into a little writer’s block. Then inspiration struck and I decided on recapping last Saturday only because what transpired that evening is too comical not to impart onto my minuscule fan base. The following is a recap of last Saturday night that I spent in Rome with a good friend of mine that we shall refer to in this entry as Smiley.

Sitting on my couch Saturday evening as I am want to do more often than not, Smiley, My roommate J3, and myself were watching Swingers on DVD. Let me first say that this is one of my favorite movies in which Vince Vaughn plays a suave, cunning man-whore that always goes into every situation with a plan on how to pick up women. I will go ahead and go on the record in saying I am not in any way, shape, or form like his character (Trent was his name), though I do admire the fact that he is entirely confident in his ability to swoon members of the fairer sex, a trait I happen to be lacking due to my sheepish, awkward nature. At any rate, we were watching this movie, enjoying the extremely quotable dialogue, and a debate began over which was the more effective ploy to acquire the attention of any given female, the “Money” approach of Vince Vaughn or the Tao of Steve, from the work of cinematic genius of the same name. I am not going to go into the idiosyncrasies of either style; you will just have to watch the movies to see. Suffice to say, “Money” is more of a direct approach, whereas the Tao is more of a subversive way to “achieve” your goal by making the girl think it was her idea and thinking you only want to be her friend. I opted for the “Money” and Smiley opted for the Tao. Thus, an idea was formed. I proposed Smiley and I go to Rome to see which would be more affective. So off we scampered at nearly 9:00 at night on a Saturday toward Formia to catch the last train to Rome.
We walked down my gargantuan hill from my apartment to the bus stop and waited there for nearly an hour. The bus would have gotten there sooner but Gaeta is a resort town, and being such, the later into the summer it gets, the more tourists frequent the streets at night to partake in night time activities such as drunken orgies and ritualistic sacrifices of a variation of farm animals. Seeing how I had already seen enough of both having lived here a year, I thought nothing of it and waited patiently at the bus stop. While we were waiting, we were trying to decide what fake names we would go by, (this is something childish I used to do in my youth if I ever met a girl at a bar or anything, what precious few occurrences there have been). No disrespect intended, it’s just that a fake name sounds better than my real name. We were debating on using super-heroes secret identities as our monikers for the evening. We brushed right by the ones that any acute moviegoer might recognize, and being the comic book nerds that we both were, it was not hard to find fake names that few people, outside of others like us, might know. We considered such handles as Kyle Rayner (Green Lantern), Daniel Ketch (Ghost Rider), Jason Todd (dead Robin), Tim Drake (current Robin), Ben Reilly (Scarlet Spider), but none of them seemed to have the right Feng Shui that was required for the evening’s shenanigans. I decided on Johnny Storm (Human Torch) and he decided on Alex Summers (Havoc from X-men). And so, armed with our fake codenames, and our pockets full of euro, we got on the bus to go to Formia.
We get to the train station and buy our tickets for the 10:30 train to Tip…Tippy… Tippycanoe or something, which is in Rome but not the usual metro station we usually get off at. But whatever, we takes what we gets when we gets it. So we waited for about fifteen minutes or so, engaged in a discussion over who we consider to be underrated directors, overrated directors, and who should be cast for the impending X-men 3 movie, (Vinny Jones being cast as Juggernaut not being one of them, nor was Kelsey Grammar being cast as Beast, but I digress.) So engaged were we, that this conversation carried on over into the train, and all the way into the two hour plus trip to Tippycanoe in Rome.
We deboard and head straight for another bus that will take us to Termini, which is where all the taxis are stationed that will then take us to Campo Di Feorri, a.k.a. the barring district. While on this bus, we encountered a full frontal assault on not only our vision, but also our olfactory senses as well. Now, living in Italy for over year as I have, I have grown accustomed to Europe’s lack of hygienic capacity, but never before has it been so repugnant. There was one particular Italian lad that I shall never forget. This kid had what looked to have been an afro at one point, but it was styled as if one of his fat friends had sat atop his head and sweated profusely until his hair was permanently flattened and matted to his greasy head. But wait, it gets better. The sides of his hair continued to curl out and looked to have been covered in styling gel to form these thick tendrils that were akin to those handlebar mustaches that you see in old civil war movies. I lament only that I was not able to photograph this freak of nature to prove his existence and thus immortalize him on my webpage (that I am sure everyone will see).
Periodically checking our pockets to see if anything has been lifted from us, we finally made it to Termini to catch a cab to get us to the bar district. I have never been more glad to breathe abhorrently stench-free air in my life. Quickly catching a cab, we finally made it to Campo to start drinking. By this time, we have already forgotten our test and just wanted to enjoy what was left of the evening, not that I could have brought myself to act “money” towards any girl I might meet. We were rightly miffed at the fact that the evening had not gone as planned thus far, but quickly realized that our prior exploits would have been all for naught if we did not make the best of what time we had.
Making our way to one of the few bars that not only tolerate Americans, they actually are kinda strict about too many non-Americans coming into the bar. This bar, called the Scene, was more of an after hours bar and had not really picked up at close to 2 in the morning, which was what time we had finally settled down with our first drink. At this point, we were not expecting to meet anyone, we just wanted to drink and make fun of people that walked in. This is a favorite past-time of insecure people (like us) that feel the need to poke fun at those that are more socially inept than us. Looking around the bar at the precious few people that had decided to give the bar their patronage, the pickings were slim (to make fun of, not girls to pick up). But what tender morsels there were, were ripe for the picking.
The first one to catch my scrutinizing eye was this little fellow we referred to as Cool Ethan because of his unibrow and his striking resemblance to the character played by Jason Swartzemann from the movie Slackers with the name…you guessed it… Cool Ethan. This emasculated fellow would follow anyone of the opposite sex from a distance and when they would turn around, he would make himself inconspicuous looking by leaning up against the wall or sitting at a booth, continuing to stake out whatever female was unfortunate walk by him. But the Coup De Gras was not Cool Ethan, but a metrosexual male that we affectionately named Felicity Bojangles.
Felicity was a strange character. His mannerisms implied he was gay as well as the looks he would give to certain members of the male gender, yet we would see him hitting on girls occasionally. Now let me stop there. I am by no means homophobic. Seeing how I am in the navy, you can imagine that there are (as the cliché would appear true in this instance) gay people working for the navy. I know a few of them and get along with them as I would any other person, I just find it humorous to watch this particular metrosexual given the lack of entertainment in the bar at that particular moment. Anyway, back to my story. At the beginning of the evening, he sat on his stool like good little barfly, swaying gently to whatever music happened to be playing throughout the pub. He would try to hit on any female that got too close to him, continuously swaying to the beat of the music, and would subsequently get rejected every time. As more people started to show up, and as the music got louder and more upbeat, he got up from his stool and started dancing with him-se-elf (in a manner as I would imagine the song would suggest). And as girls would walk by, he would try to jump on them and gyrate against them, trying to coerce them into dancing back with him, and much to his dismay and ours, he received no takers.
Felicity, continuing to cut a mean rug dancing next to the bar, began attracting a lot of attention from the crowds that were steadily growing as the night progressed. Now remember this whole time, Smiley and me are drinking heavily, taking turns getting rounds (as bar-frequenting friends have tendency of doing), and by our forth drink, we could not stop laughing at these ill-fated fellows we had nicknamed Felicity and Cool Ethan. Soon enough, we needed more liquid entertainment, and it was Smiley’s turn buy the booze, so he got up to buy us the next round. Imagine my surprise when he returned with two American college girls that he had met watching Felicity Bojangles, and of course, more liquor.
These young ladies, while intellectually engaging enough to have managed to keep my interest (somewhat) for the duration of the rest of the evening, were not my type so I made no attempt to do the typical guy thing and try to hornswaggle them into a night of drunken Rome sex. Smiley however, made it clear what he wanted from the beginning, and was ineffectually trying to be “money” while I was genuinely uninterested and was therefore unknowingly using the Tao of Steve. Keep in mind that these were two American girls, studying abroad in Italy, on their last night before they were going to go back to the U.S. These two young, spry vixens were chomping at the bits for some action, and Smiley had been the “lucky bloke” they came across, so he figured he was in like Flint. Alas, as bitter irony bitch-slapped Smiley, he was not the one they were more interested in(not that it mattered), and by the end of the night, the only “money” was what little was left in Smiley’s pocket. We ended up staying there until right before dawn, doing some shots with our lady friends, and all four of us left (inebriated) in time to see the sun come up over the Coliseum. Quite breath taking, that. It was here that my brain started to malfunction. I am not sure if it was the inhuman amount of alcohol I had consumed in such a short period of time, or the lack of sleep, or possibly a combination of the two, but whatever the case was, there were these talking caves in front of the Coliseum.
I know that they obviously were not talking, but were merely speakers that were playing a pre-recorded narrative in both English and Italian. But the experience was enthralling nonetheless, and I will tell you why. Imagine if you will, being fairly intoxicated, and trying to listen to a segment of a story in English, and not being able to concentrate, catching but a few words because of the next cave ten feet away telling the next segment of the story in English and so on and so forth down the line of about ten caves, then trying to listen to the first story segment being repeated in Italian and trying to decipher what you missed with your limited command of the Italian language. It was truly a horrifying experience.
So the evening had come to a close, and it was time for us to catch our train back to Gaeta. We got on at about 7:30 in the morning, and were scheduled to arrive in Formia at about 10:20. We did not anticipate falling asleep in the car and missing our stop and ending up in Naples. But as it happened, we had to then take another train from Naples in the other direction, back to Formia. Now first off, Smiley and I go to Rome regularly and are rather familiar with the beautiful city, but not so when it comes to dirty Naples. We ascertained that Naples was equated to the Bizarro World, seeing that everything we hold to be true in Rome is not, in fact, true to Naples. People are not nice in Naples. Rome does not have hardcore bi-gender porn being sold at kiosks outside the terminals, Naples does. We felt as if our very souls were being sucked from us, and were more than elated when the train to Formia pulled out of the station. This time, we got back to Formia ok and finally got back to my apartment at about 12:15. Smiley went home, and I fell asleep watching Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, which is a good flick. And they all lived happily ever after.
-Azrael

***picture of me and some friends at a bar in Rome.

2005-06-29T01:31:00.000-07:00

As i was browsing through a very interesting blog by a captivating young woman by the name of Pixie, i found a link to create my own blog. Let me first start out by saying that Pixie's blog is sharp and witty and you really get a feel of life from her perspective. She is very candid and puts a refreshing spin on even the most mundane of life experiences, plus she is cute as a button. But I am deviating from my original premise. I have always enjoyed writing, short stories and otherwise, so I was inspired to start my own blog for the following reasons:

- its a good outlet for my *cough* creativity.
- helps me vent my frustrations in a constructive manner as opposed to swearing profusely at any hapless subordinate bastard gets too close to my cage.
- it will assist me in broadening my linguistic horizens.
- it will help me pick up chicks provided girls actually read this(unlikely).
(ok that last one is not a real reason. I just felt i needed to give a cliche "guy" reason for having a blog because according to some friends of mine a blog is an extremely effeminate thing to to have. I'll get over it.)

Now for some background. I currently reside in the sleepy little resort town of Gaeta, Italy working for the U.S. Navy. Let me start off by saying that the navy is merely a means to an end and i by no means intend on making this a career and alot of my posts will be about my discontent with said job. I am 23 and am still unsure of what i want to do with my life. I know what i do not want to do with my life, but that is only half the battle. More on that at another time. I am a Christian living in the heart of the Catholic empire, so needless to say, i do not have alot in common ith the local yocals living in Gaeta in the religious department. I think thats all i feel like revealing right now. This post is probably going to be a borefest because this is my first post, though i intend on spicing it up with my articulate dronings about whatever it is that is displeasing me about my life. So if you really want to read a good blog, please pay homage to the Queen of Funland herself.

Azrael
*thats me with the green drink