Around 4:00am in Houston, my grandmother passed in Taoyuan, Taiwan. I was awake when I got the call. The baby had been crying and I automatically got the milk from the fridge before my cousin could come out and get it.

Sometimes I shoot right at the sun.


But it gets too hot and I go inside.


Running away from the sun means there is little light. And that is why I am sometimes grainy.

--

Really busy, so I'm going to do this quicker than your boyfriend. Ready? Let's put it in. Promise you won't feel a thing.

--

Two babies in this house. Sherry is the newborn, my cousin Jerry's kid, and a pleasantly quiet wrinkly bag of flesh. She is a joy and likes to make funny faces at me. I make them back at her and make fun of her big feet.

Oh, if only you were born a boy.

--

Second baby is Kaitlyn, my cousin Amy's kid. She's ten months or something like that. Absolute terror. Hollers and cries in the middle of the night. The best part is that she and her parents stay down the hall.

She drooled on me, which is a big no-no.

--

I have to yell at someone when I go to work today. I'm coming in late, y'see, and I can't have other people doing that.

At least I have a valid excuse, though. I had a xanga-quickie. And I'm almost done.

--

I really am going to yell really loud at a colleague for being such a complete waste of time. He constantly brings either me or Jerry into bullshit meetings. Does this guy take everything businessmen say literally? What a dumbfuck. Either smarten up or leave me the hell alone.

I need to get the hell out of Houston, man. Some of these people are just so so so stupid stupid stupid. The schools are supposed to be better out here when compared to California, but I'm starting to wonder if these guys are just overachievers in wood shop or something gay like that. Or perhaps I just know the wrong people.

Yes, that must be it. Because Houston is the city that fixes problems for the guys on the moon. And you don't learn to fix lunar complications in wood shop do you?

--

Do you? I'm done.

Already?

Yes.

I'd be really good at writing thirty-seven second pornos.

--

Have a nice day. And if you go to the moon, make sure you bring your AAA card and check in with Tranquility in Houston. She's a bitch and a transexual, a deadly combination. Kind of like foie gras stuffed in monkey sphincter.

Master Ace says:

--

I'm taking a much needed day off today. My long hours prevent me from running simple errands, so in the three hours I've been awake I've already stopped by the bank, the optometrist, and got some breakfast. Mocha muffins from the Rice University area are really good.

Can't seem to find some decent coffee, though. I don't like foo-foo starbuck's crap. At home, I'll sometimes get Peet's because of its similarity to my name. Yes, I am conceited. Chicago was heaven because Dunkin' Donuts had French Cruellers and their world famous coffee.

I like my coffee like I like my woman. Black and strong. Too bad these coffees only hang out in diners and hole in the walls, two things Houston does not have enough of.

If you're wondering, I drink Vietnamese and Cafe Du Monde coffee straight. It's cheap and it wakes me the fuck up.

--

My grandmother got out of surgery yesterday. She seems to be doing okay, but she was supposed to be okay before she had to have the procedure. My mother and her siblings that are stateside are thinking about leaving for Taiwan on Thursday. They're not sure if this is it or not because my grandmother can live on for the next week or the next year.

All of us would rather not this be the end, of course. Thing is, grandma told me told me and one of my other cousins that she wanted to go back to Taiwan to speed up the process. Life in the US for the past nine months has been foreign too her, and the advanced medical treatment just made her bored here. At least in Taiwan she has friends and her temple.

That's why I don't know what to feel right now. On one hand, I don't want her to leave yet. There are so many things that I can still learn from her. You know, like knitting. And to not drink the water from someone else's toilet. It's these small things I have trouble with.

In all seriousness, though, I admire her strength. It'd be too hard to tell you why.

--

On the other hand, she wants to move on. She has beliefs about the afterlife, and in the end, if nothing can make her happier than that afterlife, she should have what she wants the most.

--

Some random tidbits.

I saw a young single mother with three kids at HEB. She was neither black nor strong, but something tells me that I would like her.

Last time I saw my grandmother in Taiwan, she was so energetic. Two years have passed and things change. I have just realized that, and that makes me dumber than most people, but smarter than most of you.

When I went earlier this year, my mom seemed rejuvenated. I'm starting to suspect the little island of Taiwan is full of energizer bunnies.

In the future, I will let my grandmother down. I can't stop drinking other people's toilet water. Especially if they don't flush!

--

If any of you offer prayers, please take them back. She and I don't care. What we care about is that you guys find some peace in your own lives. Whatever it takes, ya dig? Need simplicity? Do it. Need sex? Do it. Need to rob me? Just try asshole, because you must want to die.

I know I joke about some really fucked up stuff sometimes, but this is a serious message from me. It comes from my grandmother, and she is smarter than all of us.

--

Today, I saw my reflection in a puddle. Boy do I look desperate.

I've been sex free for like ninety seven years or something.

--

My grandmother is dying. She's about that age where life starts to, you know, end. The shit doesn't really bother me because she is pretty comfortable with it. Pretty amazing if you ask me. And if you didn't ask, now you know.

--

Sometimes I wonder what hell will be like for me. It's too bad I've had a pretty good life. No starving, no poverty, no ass rapes. Something tells me that my afterlife will consist of a prairie with no housing, no food, and lots of felons from prisons.

If there is an afterlife, that is. We could all just be aged worm food.

--

I'm sure I'm going to hell because I am a bad person. Although I don't kill people, I am a jackass. The stuff I enjoy just isn't the stuff that impresses St. Peter or whoever the hell heaven's bouncer is. For example, I smile when I fantasize about killing people.

Fantasizing takes up a good portion of my day.

--

One time, some guy asked why I was smiling. It was because in my parallel universe, my foot went through his ass and out of his chest. His girlfriend got all horny and then we porked. She eventually left me, though, because I never met her expectations.

--

People often have this misconception that I am a good person. Their expectations for me are a bit too high. Look, just because I can be helpful at times does not make me a good person. Let it be known that I do it for selfish reasons.

I go out of my way to help you so that I have a reason to hate you.

--

Some high school age girl with braces said, "Hi, you look familiar," the other day. What the hell?

I may be a bad person, but I'm no R. Kelly.

--

The act of name dropping during conversations is a growing annoyance. When I was in Chicago last week, two people told me that they were connected to R. Kelly in some way.

I asked what 'connected' meant and they both tell me that they met his manager and have hung out with him. One person will be backstage at his concert in Houston on Friday.

You know, I'm really happy that they 'know' someone famous, but I really don't understand what this relationship had to do with my eventual job to market their seperate companies. My conclusion is that these guys are total bullshit, will only pay my retainer, and hide out when I invoice them.

--

Business is a tough environment in some sense. Everyone knows that they will get fucked every thrice in a while and that people are generally scoundrels. What I didn't know was how many people lied because they're stupid.

It's okay if you lie to get what you want in deals. Shit happens everyday. But don't lie for the sake of lying. To be honest, I would be impressed if a potential client or partner tells me that he knows the name of every janitor in his office suite rather than R. Kelly by way of his manager.

--

How many of you know the janitor's name in your office building?

It's important to know his/her name because it will come in handy when you want to blackmail your boss.

--

Why do people tell stupid lies? There's this guy I know who owns two failing businesses. I know he needs to find a job to make ends meet, but he refuses. When I asked a mutual friend how he was doing I found out that he was 'secretly' finding a job. The guy can't admit publicly that he's going to ease off of his personal business to make some steady money in order to feed his kids. I don't know why it affects his pride.

Sure, people like to hear stories about getting paid for what  you love to do. But this is life and it's harder than R. Kelly's cock on his god daughter's eye. I'm not going to speak for everyone, but I admire someone who gets paid for what he needs to do while trying to do what he wants to do.

If you have what you need and want, you are a better person than I.

--

Usually I want sex. Right now I need it. These balls are so blue you could slap them on a ring and sell it for at least a million bucks.

Well, probably not, but I start to dream when I am wanting and needing.

--

There is a Norah Jones concert coming up. Man, I usually don't have a problem with fidelity but I would get in the sack with that piano playing woman. Her voice does things to me.

Kinky doesn't like to admit it, but she would totally do it with one of those nsync guys. I think it's JC or something.

You have no idea what losing my steady to a faggy dancer with a microphone does to my pride.

Great moons of Neptune! The Niners won! The Niners won! Time to run around naked and smear my body in peanut butter.

Imagine what I do when we win Super Bowls!

--

Back from Chicago. Must admit it feels good to be back in Houston. There are a few things I like about Chicago.

The weather, of course. Although it was kinda hot this weekend, that cold ass breeze sent a lovely shiver up my spine. Man, I haven't had that feeling in a long time. It's like I quit smack for a year and just jumped back on it. I'm hooked.

Old buildings and skyscrapers are a favorite of mine, too. I gawk and stare like a stupid kid because I am definitely a stupid kid.

--

I know Houston doesn't need high rise condos and apartments, but when they do build them, could they be built any uglier?

There's this one building around the 59 freeway that looks like an elevator shaft. Some people have told me it looks like a giant dildo, but I tend to not listen to these people.

--

Some things I did not enjoy in Chicago:

Traffic. Christ, where are all of you assholes going? And I do mean assholes. Judging by Illionois-ites inability to stay within those dotted lines on freeways, kindergarten classes have a slew of hideous crayon scribbled pictures.

The food wasn't too good. Our client took us to this awful japanese fusion place with horrible faux drum and bass/acid jazz. After dropping four hundred bucks at this place, I was beer buzzed, hungry, disappointed, and very grumpy.

--

Oh yeah. And Chicago is one ugly city. Not one hot chick. Not one. I suspect the corn fed blondes of Omaha are prettier and probably of decent shape.

--

I have this theory. Women who grow up in big cities with colder climates have smaller boobs. They've become so anal retentive and bound by six layers of clothing that their boobies fail to expand correctly. In warmer climates, you'll see some bigger knockers.

It's like how a flower grows in an open sunny field as compared to the crap you find growing in the cracks of concrete in a cold city. Too bad I'm more of a cold city person. Maybe I need a St. Pauli's girl. They're pretty laid back (well endowed), right?

--

By the way, I have a right to call people ugly. I myself am a member of ugly, but you need to be honest with yourself just as I am. You will increase your chances of suicide and my level of happiness.

I should really be in bed. In six hours, I'll be at the airport awaiting to board my flight to Chicago. Too bad I'm not going there for fun. A weekend of relaxation away from Houston is what I need. I guess a weekend of work outside of the area code will have to do for now.

--

When I was a kid, I was pretty horny and couldn't do a damn thing about it. Nothing has changed 'round here except the zip code.

Sounds depressing but it's not. Frankly, I don't think I'm capable of sex right now. I am way too tired and your mom is a demanding woman. Just kidding.

That concludes the sexual innuendo between your mother and I.

--

As you can see/read, being tired brings out this part of me that wants to make fun of your mom. I'm really not sure where I got this trait from. Wouldn't it be silly if this came from maternal genes?

Speaking of maternal, my mom called me today to inform me that my dad is crazy. My dad called me about two seconds after I got off the phone with my mom and confirmed that he is clearly insane. I'm totally digging it and can't wait to be just as looney as he is right now.

--

Here's another thing I'm going to do when I'm old. I'm going to get arrested for a public display of nudity.

--

Anyway, my dad wants to get a dog. My mom doesn't want a dog in the house. I offered up a solution to my dad. I'll just bring a dog home one day and that'll be that.

My mom hates dogs with a passion. Everyone knows that. They also know that pissing off my mom is like shoving a metal rod up your anus. It really sucks, hurts, and feels icy cold. Or so I've heard.

I'm a good son that wants to help his dad out, but I take nothing up the keester for anyone.

--

This is such a bleak entry. I'm in good spirits, but tired as hell. Do me a favor and have fun this weekend. Lounge on a sunny beach and make out with your significant other.

I'll be trying to woo an account while you woo your sexual activities partner. I'll take breaks by powering up the laptop and working on good ol' Illustrator CS. So please, down a mojito for me.

--

You lucky bastards.