-=(Sagien)=-

MEDIEVIA MUD MEDIEVIA

There was a picture here of how insanely good looking I am, but for some reason, gmail can't handle the sending of the email. This is more than likely due to my dashing good looks.

The picture will have to wait til next post.

(The title is a lame attempt to get search links from people googling medievia.)

Observation

That is a picture that I came across during my daily travels through the internets. This particular one came from the player picture pages of medievia.com.

It was captioned as "so and so holding a cute baby lion."

I have a more fitting caption for it.

"I'm fat and ugly, and I'd love to have this lion for lunch, but my boyfriend/husband hasn't touched pussy in months cuz mine is too crusted with fugly so he's petting this lion cub. Oh yes, it is cute."

After stuffing the nausea back into my stomach, and barely succeeding at that, I moved on. I opened up another picture.

This one was captioned "so and so busted up after a match".

So and so is the same guy in the first picture.

Here's my take on this:

What the fuck kind of douchebag would think that it'd be cool to post a bloody picture of himself after a fight on a MUD's website?!

"Look at me! I'm so cool! I fight people for fun and get my already busted ass face even more mangled. You people playing text adventure games with me must think I'm grade A awesome now!"

Sigh.

I know. You think I'm playing MUD again. That is the farthest from the truth. I'm super attractive. Super attractive people don't play MUD.

That is all.

Flaws all over the place..

Valentine's Day, 2006

These events happen between the hours of 4:30AM until 9:45AM, on Valentine's Day and the day after, 2006.

4:30 AM

The phone rings. Sagien goes to answer it.

"Time to go to work!" It was the boss.

"Yep."

"Alright, come on in and take it ea --"

*click*

4:51 AM

Sagien decides that since he's up, he might as well go deliver some newspapers.

After a relaxed 20 minute drive to Pleasantville, he finally shows up at the newspaper plant to pick up the payload.

6:30 AM

Papers are finished. Time to go home.

He stops at the Wawa to pick up some orange juice and a bagel. mm bagels.

6:49 AM

At home, and blogging, eating a bagel, drinking some OJ. Very exciting, I know.

Also, checking on downloads and movie ripping. Also, very exciting.

And being chatty on AIM.

Lost fight with printer.

8:15 AM

Phone rings.

"You ready to roll?" It was Camel.

"Yeah, I need your help printing something."

"Oh god, man. Well you better hurry then."

"oh em double you"

9:13AM

Richard Stockton College of New Jersey.

Phone rings.

"Where are you?" It was Camel.

"Almost there."

"By there, where do you mean?"

"At Stockton."

"Oh. I thought you were stopping by here first."

"By here, where do you mean?"

"Casa de Camel."

"Oh. I thought I was picking you up at Stockton."

"I thought you were gonna follow me to Stockton then pick me up."

"Well just get here, man. I'll park where you can see me."

"Park behind Big Blue."

"Okay."

9:45 AM

Camel drives up. Sagien was taking a nap and waiting. He sees Camel approach and he turns his vehicle on. Camel jumps out of his moving vehicle and on to Sagien's moving vehicle.

And we're on our way.

First stop, Casa de Camel.

10:00 AM

Casa de Camel.

"Get me online," demands Sagien. Camel gets right on it.

"Hurry up."

"I'm moving as fast as AOL will carry me, Joe. I just have to print out a few emails."

"I hope they're not PDFs. That computer hates PDFs."

"They're PDFs."

"Well, it can't be done." Sagien keeps clicking.

"What part of they can't be done didn't you understand. I've never had that thing be able to print PDFs, and you wont be able to either."

Sagien keeps clicking. "This thing is frickin slow, how can you live like this?"

"Are you listening to me?"

"It'll work."

"Yeah, it'll magically work because you are printing them, and not me."

Sagien keeps clicking. Camel leaves the room.

When he gets back, the All-in-One Lexmark printer is printing. It's printing PDFs. Sagien's stealing his Twix's.

10:13 AM

Parked next to the flower shop. Camel is inside, Sagien's on his phone.

"I'll be a little bit late. The job I'm on is lasting a tad longer than I expected," he said into it.

The back door to the SUV opens and Camel shoves 15 balloons in the back.

"I may need your help carrying these in," he said and went back into the flower shop.

He returns a few minutes later carring a gigantic, gaudy vase full of flowers.

"I don't suppose those are for Ashley."

"No, they aren't"

He situates himself in the front seat, holding the enormous vase. Sagien starts driving.

"I really want a cigarette, but I can't."

"I don't think I'll be very keen to a burning bush of flowers in my car, Joe."

10:45 AM

Richard Stockton College of New Jersey.

[EDIT: Camel took it upon himself to draw a rectangle over his eyes. He likes it better that way.]

All Sagien needed to do was open three doors for Camel and then he left.

11:01 AM

Sagien is driving to Long Beach Island, NJ. Travel time: one hour and eight minutes according to Mapquest.

11:45 AM

"So, it's a hard drive install?"

"Well, my son already installed the hard drive," customer says. Sagien looks at his work order(the PDF that printed out). It read:

Problem description: Replace hard drive.

"Well, that's what my work order is telling me to do."

"Oh. Well we're still having problems with it after he put it in. I'm not exactly sure what, but it's a problem."

"Well, let's take a look." Sagien turns the customer's PC on and gets a blank screen with a blinking cursor in the corner.

"Is this all it does?" he asked.

"I don't really know. My son was working on it."

"Where's your restore CD?"

12:15 PM

Sagien's on hold with tech support.

12:30 PM

"Technical services, how can I help you?"

"You need to ship the customer a new restore CD."

"Why?"

"Because this one doesn't work."

"What doesn't work about it?"

"Windows won't install because it can't find it's own End User License Agreement."

"Aren't you just supposed to install the hard drive."

"Yeah, but I'm a nice guy. I figured I'd make sure that their computer's working too before I left it."

"Okay, we'll send them a new one."

"Can you close the work order for me?"

12:55 PM

Job's done. Driving home.

1:45 PM

The Rice Pad. Sleeping.

3:01 PM

Phone rings.

"It's 3. Wake up." It was wombat.

"Okay."

5:05 PM

Sagien wakes up and starts cleaning. He makes several phone calls to make sure tonight happens.

9:24 PM

The Valentine's Day Poker Game at the Rice Pad.

Sagien is staring at a low stack of chips, with about 6 beers inside his body. He looks at his cards. 10 8 offsuit. On the board was a three a seven and a ten.

"I'm all in," he declares.

"I'll call ya," said wombat and flips over an A 7.

The turn card was inconsequential.

Sagien looks at the dealer.

"If you put an ace on the board, I will slit your throat," he said to him.

The dealer tentatively places the last card on the table.

It was the ace of hearts.

1:45 AM

Drunk. Busted out for $60. Everyone's leaving and saying their goodbyes. Sagien goes to bed.

5:45 AM

Sagien takes one glance at the clock and goes back to sleep.

9:45 AM

AIM conversation with mincus:

sagien: Well I don't have a route anymore. =P
mincus: lol
mincus: how'd that work out?
sagien: I dunno.
sagien: I just checked voicemail, my boss had to do my route.
sagien: The message said "You know what happens when I have to do the route.. you have to call me when you wake up."
sagien: But since I already knows what happens when he had to do the route, why would I need to call him?
mincus: hahahaha

Happy Valentine's Day.

We all have our stories

Valentine's 2006.

We all have our stories..

DISCLAIMER: There is a much earlier version of this story I'm about to tell. Read it first. I think this version(with the girl named differently[so much for my stellar memory]) is much better than the original one. You be the judge.

There really hasn't been any Valentines Days that have stuck out to me as overly romantic, since I am not really the romantic type.

Today seems rather promising though.

I woke up this morning to droplets of saline solution going into my eyes. I don't particularly like refering to any point of time before I can see again as being awake. This is when the phone started ringing.

I knew it was the paper route people, so I chose to ignore it. I tested out my nicely working eyes on the clock on the Comcast box. 4:45 it said. Perfect. I'm late again.

My phone starts to ring again. I sighed and answered it. Someone squaked something at me from the other end.

"Yep," I said. Then I hung up.

We all have our stories...

[insert wavey flashback lines]

It's the old country. Barbaric, hot, and lined with rainforests. Thankfully, it isn't Valentines Day. Unfortunately, it was much worse.

I'm dancing with Christina.

[more wavey flashback lines]

It's two weeks ago, in fourth grade music class. The teacher was rambling on about the dance competition that our entire fourth grade class is involved with. We'll be putting together a dance number which'll mean that a group of eight guys and eight girls will be getting together to do some native style folk dancing to some native style folk song wearing some native style folk costume.

Filipino + Chinese = amazingly gorgeous children.

Amazingly gorgeous children are quite few and far between. The teacher is staring right at me.

She just asked the entire class as to who was going to be volunteering for this endeavor. She was staring right at me.

I sighed and raised my hand.

The University of St La Salle in Bacolod City, Philippines is an all boy school. Well, it was an all boy school up until we hit fourth grade. There were eight girls in my fourth grade class, and about ninety boys.

I grew up not knowing what a girl was, except for this one girl in kindergarten named Fumiko and she hated me because I thought it'd be funny to introduce her to my spiders... but that's a different story.

Anyway, I had raised my hand, and the teacher was elated. I don't know where she got the idea that I can dance, since I've never exhibited any kind of grace whatsoever in my life.

We were told to line up, from shortest to tallest. I was second to the last in line -- I'm a rather tall kid, by Asian standards. The girls were told to do the same. I looked across the way at my counterpart.

Christina.

"Damn!" whispered my best friend Raffy, from behind me. One of the words one can use to describe the girl he was paired up with would be "tall." Another would be "fat." Yet another would be "unattractive." You get the idea.

"Wanna switch?" he asked.

Christina was my height. She had long black hair, not too skinny, but "fat" wouldn't be a word to use to describe her either. She had the prettiest smile, and there was definately a brain behind those pretty eyes.

"Nah, I'm too short for your partner, man," I said, not keeping my eyes off of Christina.

The next two weeks was spent practicing whatever tranditional Filipino dance it was that we were dancing. Now, you might think that I'm in some kinda bliss, dancing with and touching a pretty girl. In any other scenario one would call normal, then yes, I would be in bliss.

However, I am not the only one who grew up not knowing what a girl was. There were 89 other guys in my class who's spent their entire young lives in ignorant comraderie with 89 other guys up until now.

Nobody knows what to do with girls, and nobody knows what to do with guys who get to touch girls. The most obvious course of action was to tease the living crap out of them.

This is precisely what happened to me.

So here we are.

It's the old country. Barbaric, hot, and lined with rainforests. Thankfully, it isn't Valentines Day. Unfortunately, it was much worse.

I'm dancing with Christina.

And every person that's the age of 11 or younger is snickering at me. Everyone except for Raffy. Raffy was glaring at me.

I don't even remember how that dance ended up. I just wanted it to be over.

Looking back on it, I think that Christina really liked me.

Flash forward to my last day in the Philippines. I was sitting alone on a bench in the hallway.

Christina came up to me and said..

"So you're really leaving?"

"Yeah, I said."

"Aww."

iseeseveralflaws

I woke up to another wake up call.

"Mikey! Where are you? On your way, I hope?" It's my boss. He's unnervingly cheery this morning.

"Um.. I can be," I said groggily into the coolio phone.

"C'mon! Let's go! Let's go!" he drums on. "How have you been anyway?"

"Well, I'm tired as hell," was my reply. I checked the time. 4:31AM.

"Alright. Try to make it here before 5." He hung up. I went back to sleep.

--

Snooze alarm is going off. 4:38 AM. I try to get out of bed(couch) and almost fell.

wtf

My leg feels like it's twisting the wrong way, but it looks normal. There's some slight pain when I put weight on it, but otherwise it's okay. I put my clothing on and went out the door.

..she's a rebel.. she's a sai-aint..

Left the music on too loud, it breaks my eardrums. Put the heat up to max.

"I hate existence," I mumbled and started driving.

4:47AM. The phone rings.

"Are you on your way now?"

"Yeah"

"What the hell do you do anyway?"

"Well, I work. A lot."

"Not much more to go, bud. You'll be done soon."

Don't I know it. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

115 reasons to quit a paper route...

One sixteen.

These are the times when I start thinking back. Tonight is no different. Tonight, I ponder how far this website has come along.

Looking back on it's existence, only a small percentage of it is what happened in Radio Shack a couple of years ago. Yet, it's what everyone remembers the most. The site has gone a long way since then.

I've gone a long way. I thought about writing this all down, and how homosexual you guys will think it is. Do I dare risk homosexuality in the eyes of my peers to put some of my thoughts down on the internets?

Sure, why not.

But what do I write about this morning? How can I illustrate how far we've come along in the style of ISSF?

Well, let's give this a shot.

Vintage Friends and What it means to be one

A few of you wonder how I can go in and out of friendship with a few people, yet be completely unforgiving to other people regardless of the severity of the disagreement that broke the friendship to begin with.

This is due to the minimum five year tenure of being my friend. I joke about it, but there really is a sizable grain of truth to it. Watch.

Joe Camel has been my friend since freshman year of highschool. If you're trying to calculate the math, I'll spare you the trouble. That's thirteen years.

For as long as I can remember, he has never done me wrong. He has always been there when I needed him, and he always is willing to listen to my incessant ramblings and provide his honest opinion.

Joe Camel can gut me like a fish if he wants. I'll probably block him from AIM for five minutes if he does that, but I'm sure at some point, I'll want to go grab a beer from somewhere. That's what the unblock button is for.

Shft has been around for fourteen years. He's broken my basketball net, coined racial namesakes for me, has threatened to "kick my ass all the way back to the Philippines," and has wished that I got consumed my locusts.

But the man has always been around to pick me up with no strings attached other than the threat of the losing of my kneecaps. He's gotten my back when some Jew is telling me to get off his porch. He's made the proper calls when he knew I needed employment.

Mincus slept lost his virginity and is marrying a girl I brought home. He's told me to stop whistling(a favorite pastime), and told people that I shot up heroin.

He's also given me a place to stay for free, and has watched my back as I stole the walkie talkies from the janitors. He's been around for about a decade.

Wombat is a blithering idiot. He is consumed by his "art". He cockblocks every chance he gets and credits it to his charm.

His constant cry for attention makes one hate existence. It is easy to become upset at him for no apparent reason. He's caused me emotional breakdowns and homelessness.

He's been around for about a dozen years. He's seen me slump through depression and while he gives good advice that he should probably follow, the most valuable part of that friendship is that when you just need someone to be around, he can be there. He knows more about my demons than most people do. He can judge my state of happiness within a few minutes of seeing me.

dirt smoked with me. A lot.

And when I wanted to quit, he told me that I will fail in whatever I do. He is a nest of bitterness and contempt.

He's also come up to bat when people talk shit about me. He provided me with the account passwords of the douchebag who fucked my ex-girlfriend. He's sat there and taken the heat for me when he could've ratted me out for a lesser punishment. He ratted out Ron Pack instead. He's like the Worm to my Michael McDermitt.

Vintage friends. These are, by no means, a complete list. I know the people who are close to me, and if you are, I'm hoping that you know it too and that I don't have to speak about our friendship on a blog for you to realize it.

Sure, you might've been a "good" friend to me for a couple of years, but don't hold that over my head. I don't hold things I've done in the name of being friends over yours and neither will any of the people I mention. These guys will not kick me out for calling them a prick over an arguement on the rules of 8ball or getting pissy that I can't make it to some shindig you put together.

These friendships are unconditional. It isn't the number of years that you've been around, but it does help.

iseeseveralflaws