Chinkzilla's Xanga

buahahahaha

Mon, 07 Dec 2009 12:20:45 GMT

stolen from cracked.com

We don't know Spanish, but that sure looks like a lot of words just to say, "STOP FUCKING DOING THAT!"

N.S.F.W.

Mon, 06 Jul 2009 09:15:22 GMT

ROFLLLLLLMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! hahahahaha

The Best Damn Psycho Ex story that you will ever read (Part 1)

Wed, 01 Jul 2009 11:44:51 GMT

Her name was A, and I met her at a rave. Strike one. I was 18 and she was 22, or was she 25? I never knew for sure. All I knew was that she had huge tits for an asian girl, and a slammin body. Any other minor details were conveniently ignored by my eighteen year-old self. Details such as: random bouts of irrational jealousy, propensity for violence and hurling things, delusional paranoia, and calling me every 5 minutes whenever I was out of her sight.

Maybe one of these days I'll go more deeply into how we met. But this is a story about how we broke up.

One day, after a particularly nasty fight, I told her that I wanted to break up and I couldn't take it anymore. Immediately her eyes lit up with a vicious intensity and she hurled herself at me forcing me backwards onto my bed. She had me pinned and was choking me screaming, "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!? YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST BREAK UP WITH ME?"

I grabbed her by the wrists and threw her off of me. "Get the fuck off me! This is exactly the shit that I'm talking about!"

The next thing that happened caught me completely off guard.

"WHY DO YOU WANT TO HURT ME? WHY?"
She reached for the nearest object she could find, which happened to be my white, cube-shaped sony alarm clock and raised it over her head. I thought for a second that she was going to hurl it in my direction. I had one of those awful horror-movie moments where everything happens in slow motion. Her arm cocked back and I began to duck and watched aghast as she began to repeatedly clobber herself over the head with it. For a moment, I entertained the thought of letting her pummel herself unconscious so that I could drive her home and deposit her on her front porch, but my guilty conscience got the better of me.

I leapt forward and grabbed her wrists tackling her to the bed while prying the clock from her grasp.
"Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you woman?"

"Honey... I don't feel so good" she replied. I was surprised at how docile she suddenly was.

"Well, you did just beat yourself over the head with an alarm clock." I remarked, reminding her of the obvious.

"No, seriously I feel like I'm going to throw up," she whined.
I checked her for pupil dialation and asked her a few questions to check for disorientation, and she seemed fine. Just to be safe I decided to take her to the ER to get checked for a concussion.

We didn't talk on the entire drive. I spent half the time asking myself how the fuck I had ever been dumb enough to get myself in a situation like this. Once I realized that 'I was thinking with my penis' was not a satisfactory explanation, I spent the other half of the time plotting how I would get rid of this psycho. My decision was made, I would have to disappear.

Once we got to the hospital, it didn't take long to get her processed and into one of the examination rooms. I was asked to stay outside and just as well, the less I could have to do with this crazy bitch the better. About 10 minutes went by and I stepped outside to have a cigarette when a patrol car pulled up to the ER entrance and two officers stepped out.

"Sir, could you come with us? We'd like to have a word," said one of the cops.

My first instinct was to run. At this point in my life I didn't have a very good rapport with the police in my community and I had a deep abiding fear of law enforcement. Seeing no viable escape route, I reluctantly complied.

"We got a report from one of the nurses here that you and your girlfriend were involved in a domestic dispute."

Ohhhhh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck. I was NOT about to go down for this. I hadn't even done anything wrong, but instantly I could see how this was going to look.

That bitch.

Was I going to go to jail over this? Was this to be the story of my young life? Asian-American male, sentenced to anger management counseling and hard time for assaulting girlfriend with household time-keeping device. I did the only thing I could think of.

I explained my ass off. I told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I was a regular Patrick Henry for the next 5 minutes giving an awe-inspiring oration describing the absurdity of the situation that I had found myself in. I told them the entire tale of our relationship from the beginning, and that all I wanted was to get away from her as quickly as possible. By the time I was finished both of the cops had a strange smirk on their faces.

Halfway through the story, one of them stopped me.

"An alarm clock, you say?" He asked quizzically as he scribbled furiously in his notepad attempting to keep up with my rambling.
"Um, yes officer," I said sheepishly.
"Ooookay. Continue."

When I finally finished speaking they looked at each other. They looked at me. They looked at each other again.

"Well sir, that's definitely not something we hear every day, but we're going to take you at your word. If you need us to show up and help you make sure she leaves your place peacefully give us a call. According to procedure, however, we have to make sure that you leave the hospital seperately."

"FINE BY ME!"
I can only assume that my story was so out there that they decided there was no way I could have possibly made it up. Relieved as I was, I assured them that I could call a friend to pick me up. The last thing that I wanted was to be spending time in the back of a police cruiser even if I wasn't being arrested.

You'd think at this point that my ordeal would be over, but alas, it was only beginning.

To be continued...

The Sexual Beast Within

Wed, 24 Jun 2009 22:28:47 GMT

We all have a certain dichotomy within us consisting of our animal and human sides waging a constant battle. The indulgences of the flesh war against the prudence of rational thinking. For some, the human within us, defeats the beast and we live our lives according to prudence and restraint. For others, the beast is in control, and the human is constantly dealing with the ramifications of what the beast has left in it's wake. Most of us straddle a fine line somewhere in between. For me, especially, this has always been an issue. As much as I like to consider myself an intelligent and moral individual, I am also an extremely passionate being with strong emotions and a lust for sensation. Perhaps it is because I am so acutely aware of my own thirst for visceral experience that I veer so deliberately away from temptation.

As a child, my parents never talked to me about sex. Most of my sexual education was garnered from the medical books my mom had left lying around the house hoping that I would somehow absorb the knowledge within them and embark upon a path towards becoming a doctor. What happened instead was they ignited an abiding curiosity within me. I have always been fascinated with the human body, and most of all our ability and innate need to procreate. As a result of my curiosity, I experienced a fairly early sexual awakening. With this confluence of intellect and hormonal development, a bloody battle ensued.

I discovered women, and all the wonderful and terrible things associated with them. Somewhere around the same time I became a christian, which further, and still does complicate my struggle. Everything around me: religion, society, and a nagging feeling inside me told me it was so wrong. But true to the cliche, it felt so right.

Nonetheless, I felt guilty. SO GUILTY. I had these urges that I knew I wasn't supposed to have. I wanted to look at porn, have sex with girls, masturbate. Half the time, I would let myself, and half the time I wouldn't. When I did, I would feel like I had committed a sin, and disrespected my own body and God. I would either repent or turn from religion lest I face its condemning glare.

And for good reason. It wasn't just for the sake of moral purity that I felt the way I did. In those moments that I erred against my better judgement and allowed my flesh to dictate my actions, I nearly always regretted it. I found myself feeling empty and hollow at the end of the day and I attributed it to falling prey to temptation. I recoiled and stayed as far away from sex as I possibly could for a very long time. There were other factors in play, of course, but the result was the same.

It wasn't just religion. I suppose it's the perfectionist nature in me. If I were to do something, I wanted to do it right. The idealist in me, clung fiercely to the idea that it ought to be special, and that I had a finite amount of self to share, and that I didn't want to dilute it by engaging recklessly. At the end of the day what would I have left for another, let alone myself? I wanted the same from whoever I was with as well. Maybe it was just a lifetime of conditioning by western culture and judeo-christian ideology.

Yet I burned. I burned with more desire than I had ever felt, and it was as if denying myself only made the need even greater, and the inevitable bursting of the dam yet more ominous. I was afraid that I would do something incredibly stupid or reckless as a result. My emotional roadblocks held me in check. But they did not prevent me from questioning the very foundations of my personal code. Why, WHY was it so wrong to feel that physical connection with another human being? How could something so beautiful in one moment, become so cheap and dirty in another? Why, WHY would God design us in such a way that we felt such an overwhelming desire to do something that was supposedly wrong? It seemed like the the universe's cruelest joke--to build a creature with an uncontrollable desire to manufacture his own destruction.

Eventually, I broke. I no longer cared. It wasn't so much that I needed to fulfill a need. That need had already been met in one way or another. I was simply tired of feeling so damn guilty all the time. I accepted that this was a natural part of who I was, who each and every one of us is. Sex is not wrong, or bad, or dirty. People are. At certain points, I thought waiting for marriage was the answer, but realistically how can that happen? Of course there are people who wait successfully until marriage, but those are also the people that get married at 21. I am not, nor will I ever be one of those people. When those rules were written, people were getting married right as puberty began. I imagine pre-marital sex wasn't such a temptation in those days. I respect and even admire people who make the choice to wait. But it's not for someone who is now twenty-eight years old, and made his share of mistakes. Not all of us are lucky enough to find true love so young. And for those of us who aren't, should we be punished by being denied the experience of sex?

I have embraced the beast, and tamed it. My rational mind and my animal nature have reached a tenuous coexistence. I still have no desire to have sex outside of a committed relationship, but I no longer feel guilty for wanting. I am okay with the fact that as much as we are humans, we are still creatures of flesh and blood with physiological needs to be met. We can't live an honest and fulfilling existence if we are constantly at battle with our own bio-chemistry and instincts. We lust after one another because it creates the surface component to a much deeper purpose than we often care to comprehend. Without sex, there is no drive to love, to bond, to reproduce. Without sex there are no families, no marriages, no drive to compete. Competition not just for resources, but to improve ourselves in hopes of finding a mate that is our match. We are human, therefore we err. In doing so, we may not get it right on the first try, but that shouldn't keep us from trying or cause us to dwell on those errors. Sex is a beautiful thing, embrace your inner beast and share it with someone deserving.

Dear Xanga, you are boring me senseless..

Wed, 24 Jun 2009 05:15:42 GMT

Please be more lewd, lascivious, and loquacious. I will even settle for some drama. And by drama i don't mean 'he said she said' type of drama that BORES THE PISS OUT OF ME. (I am talking to you, ASM). I mean the "so and so xangan slept with so and so xangan's XC omfg and then she shat in her sink and ate his dog type of drama". Or the "my-life-is-so-fucked-up-Jerry-Springer-turned me-down-so-this-is-my-only-outlet" kind of drama.

Failing that, put some real thought into your posts, stop pulling your punches, drop the whole politically correct bullshit, and quit watering down your thoughts and just give me the straight dope. How about some candid, in-your-face, fuck-you-and-what-you-think honesty? How about stuff from your OWN brain and not just reinterpretations of controversial topics such as rape, abortion, gay marriage, etc.

And for the love of god, please stop time-stamping and and posting 'WHAT DO YOU THINK?" at the end of your posts.

What happened to the humor?

Is everyone getting into relationships now? Is that what's happening? Don't you know, relationships stifle creativity? I demand you break up with your SO's this minute, and get passive aggressive revenge by posting nude pictures of yourself for all to see. Married? Get a divorce, now. Better yet, regale me with stories of domestic abuse perpetrated by you.

Entertain me dammit!

Yes, I am one of those annoying iPhone owners.

Thu, 11 Jun 2009 22:32:01 GMT

In trying to convince my friend that she needs an iphone...

chinkzilla (16:22:16): anyway. this is further proof that...

chinkzilla (16:22:20): YOU NEED AN IPHONE!!!

chinkzilla (16:22:25): omg, i just preordered the 3g s

chinkzilla (16:22:30): sa;dkfjas;dlkf /jizz jizz

chieh (16:22:33): im not into the iphone!

chinkzilla (16:22:42): that's cuz you haven't used one

chieh (16:22:42): even if i have an iphone i cant sit there and type on it all day

chieh (16:22:45): i have used one

chieh (16:22:47): they're cool

chieh (16:22:52): but i cant be bothered

chieh (16:22:58): i dont wanna be hooked to my iphone

chinkzilla (16:23:10): it's not hooked persay

chinkzilla (16:23:14): it's more like a symbiotic relationship

chinkzilla (16:23:24): i can now offload half the things i usually worry and stress about onto my iphone

chinkzilla (16:23:27): and it takes care of them for me

chinkzilla (16:23:42): in return, i pay its bill and take care not to drop it

chinkzilla (16:23:47): we both benefit

chinkzilla (16:25:59): (disclaimer: i do not, nor have i ever worked for apple . my opinions and recommendations are solely my own and not representative of apple inc. i am in no way benefiting from this shameless shilling)

Friday, June 05, 2009

Fri, 05 Jun 2009 03:56:57 GMT

Men desire women; women desire a man's desire.

Why Mixed Babies Rock!

Thu, 04 Jun 2009 01:17:36 GMT

(I am using this title without prior licensing from mixedbabiesrock)

I've long been of the opinion that interracial dating is a wonderful thing. Unlike some of my xenophobic fellow Asians, I think it's a wonderful thing to join two people and create further diversity and variety in the world. Uniting people from different backgrounds who then have the opportunity to learn and enjoy the intricacies of other cultures is a wonderful blessing.

Besides, mixes are really hot.

I may be a little biased being sort of mixed myself, but let the evidence speak for itself:

Dutch and Chinese

Filipino, Black, Indian, and Latina

And of course this girl: Danish, French-Canadian, and Latina

Korean and White

Japanese and White.

There's also Maggie Q, Kelly Hu, and countless others.

It's hit or miss though, sometimes things go horribly awry:

or

*shudder*

Anyway. I've dated women of varied races, but I always find myself gravitating back towards mixes. I wonder why this is? Is it because I find commonality with them because we both share a certain dichotomy to our personal identities? Or is it just shallowness manifesting itself? I've dated Russian/Korean, Indian/Viet, Japanese/White, Chinese/White... I think it's an addiction.

There is scientific evidence that racial mixing may be beneficial to the evolution of the human race. Studies have shown that in controlled environment where subjects are shown photographs of different members of the opposite sex, generally the ones who are ethnically ambiguous are rated the most attractive. Research has also shown that we are attracted to mates that emit pheromones that indicate an immune system that is dissimilar to our own. This instinct may be indicative of a natural guard against inbreeding and a preference for propagating genetic diversity.

Individuals with genetically diverse backgrounds tend to exhibit stronger immune systems, fewer congenital disorders, and fewer genetic defects. This is apparent amongst dogs, as purebreds are often fraught with health problems while mutts are often more robust. There is a phenomenon called heterosis or hybrid vigor, where the offspring of two genetically different individuals exhibit superior traits to either of it's parents, whether in size, robustness, or intelligence. Realistically, the genetic difference between ethnicities amongst humans is too minor for this to occur, but it's an interesting thing to consider.

Don't feel bad however, if you are of unmixed descent. There are plenty of very very attractive people of unmixed heritage. But I DO feel like it is the personal duty of each and every one of us to ensure the future strength of the human gene pool. Let each one of us, whether we be White, Black, Brown, Yellow, Japorean, Blackapino, or Italexican do our part in making the next generation of humans better looking. Given a few generations of this, there will no longer be color lines, division, or racism. There will no longer be black or white, brown or yellow; we will all simply be Beige.

Prioritizing the mind

Thu, 21 May 2009 21:38:05 GMT

The You of the past is not the You of today. The You of tomorrow is whomever you want it to be.

It's not the first of anything that matters, it's the last.

Persistence

Tue, 19 May 2009 02:59:33 GMT

I realized today that although I had always considered myself a confident person, I hadn't truly been confident until my late 20's. This manifested itself in my way of pursuing what I desired. The belief that I deserved to have what I wanted was always there, but the method in attaining those things was lacking.

Looking back at my younger years, I think I was a bit of a fatalist. If things happened, they were meant to be, if not then it was not in my cards. My attitude has changed considerably since then, though it will be a lifelong process. I no longer believe in fate, destiny, or luck. I think that mode of thinking was the result of an ever present fear of failure. If things didn't just happen immediately then I could easily say 'it wasn't meant to be.'

My dynamic with women that I dated was similar. I expected things to be easy, and if they weren't then I would take it as a sign that failure was imminent and flee. I don't mean that I didn't put up with a lot of crazy shit, more so that I needed them to like me in equal or greater measure than my interest in them. Typically, I would delay any advances on my part until I had seen clear indication of their interest.

When you base your own interest on the level of interest of another, or you expect them to initiate a relationship, you are giving up control over your own life. You limit your options only to those that are immediately available, and that pool of options becomes the only choices that you have to choose from. Often in those relationships, I would have reservations going in which I would ignore partially based on being caught up in the moment, and partially because I felt compelled to go along with what was available to me. The idea of unrequited interest was too risky and potentially harmful to my self-esteem to pursue. As a result, I never found exactly what I wanted, and those reservations that I so conveniently ignored would always return to haunt me.

Similarly with my career, minor setbacks would easily cause me to reconsider my entire course. If I felt bored, disenchanted, under appreciated, overworked, or disrespected, I would immediately start thinking about quitting. This attitude partially lay in my penchant for an extreme all or nothing philosophy, and partly because I was too young to know with clarity what I wanted out of life and love.

I've now realized that real confidence isn't just about knowing that you're smart enough, attractive enough, moral enough, or capable enough to handle a challenge. It's in knowing that you can handle the failures and continue persistently towards your goal. You have to be willing to swallow the good with the bad, and not falter at the first sign of difficulty. You have to have the ability to be single minded about your purpose and go after what you want without reservation. Real confidence allows you to do so-- and whatever obstacles you encounter will not shake the conviction that you are taking the correct course of action. These are the qualities that make successful people successful, and allow a man to land the right kind of woman.