The Thundercunt that is life.

So I had a post prior to this one about a certain misdeed I have done. I left my job, made people hate me, and slowly became the focal point of all assholes. How I managed to achieve this all is beyond me, especially after trying to get a damn point across. Then I realized. How the hell does someone so thick headed, live so blindly? I began to work out this equation in my head over and over. Thinking to myself, not once have I bad mouthed anything other than the poor work ethic that was combined with power abuse ( I mean seriously, instead of solving a problem, why don't we just crack down on it? /end sarcasm). I know I might not be the most lovable of people in the world, nor am I a saint in any shape or form. If I could eat babies I would, and breathing fire is what I do. In fact, I am an asshole. But not without reason. I don't blatantly commit jerk ass acts out of the blue just to piss off and annoy. I need to be driven to a point where reason gets thrown out, and fuck face JP comes out. I was driven to this point, and I'll tell you why in a few paragraphs. Oh and that special little reader, you know who you are, instead of your cohort outright threatening me about this blog, and giving me an ultimatum, try wrapping your head around this - There isn't anything you can write about me that I haven't written myself. You want to tell the world how lousy of a cook I am? It's a lie. I worked like a slave while I was physically and mentally dying, just so you can sleep easier at night. Bitch move? No, it's the truth, you spoon fed retard.

I just killed a man.

So I was working my shift as usual the other day, and had a pretty stellar night. Not busy, but sold out of most product to keep the fridges fairly empty over the weekend. Locked it all up and went on my way home. Turned my iPod on, the shitty fucker, and pumped up some good ol' metal. Never a better way to end the night with a walk to the station, headbanging to "Painkiller" or "Killers". Regardless of what song, my head was banging to the beat, scaring off all those around me. I look retarded when I listen to music, almost like I lose myself and begin playing some weird ass air instrument that's a cross between a drum/guitar and flute. Yeah. So as I begin my travels down to the station, I enter the subway and head on home. Lo and behold, my dear precious all knowing sentient being placed my ex-girlfriend Cherice on the same train. Yeah. So as I slowly wrap my head to why this happened to me and why the hell am I even given half a shit. I go up to her, and as I begin to wisp a breath, I immediately regret the decision. "Hey, what's up?" The air stood still, and my nut began to retract inwards. I got a boner too, don't know why it was kind of awkward, and awesome at the same time. Random boners are a lost art, and really show the true emotion you're feeling at the time. Anyways, the cunt didn't say a damn word and soon got off the train. Moral of this story? If you get the chance to kill someone that has no particular value in this world, and won't get caught, do it. Or face the ex girlfriend syndrome.

You're beautiful just the way you are. Especially after 6 beers and 2 Jagerbombs.

Man. Did my liver take a hit the last few weeks. Especially after chemotherapy, most people would think I would have calmed down a bit, maybe take some time off. The answer is a definite no. I work hard and I drank hard. I played a little hard too but I turned the difficulty down a tad. Castlevania is a bitch. But honestly what do you expect? I'm still young, and if my disease was a definite threat, I would have still taken the same path I chose. There isn't any time in life to play it safe really. Enjoy every little bit as much as you can, even if it means spending the entire day at home jerking your shaft to mediocre looking women riding wall installed dildos. Not saying I did, or didn't. You never know. Life is full of surprises, and to be honest if I found out my cancer came back, which is most likely could, I would do it all over again. My body was made to fucking rock shit, and I won't deprive it of such a duty. I am a machine. I'm a fucking awesome cook, I love to have a good time and I cherish my friends. And after all that sappy whole hearted goodness, I pretend to kill people with video games. Woo.

Woman - The inside story of the female kind told by some dick egotistical masocist motherfucker. And me.

Welcome to the end, of high prices! Always wanted to start like that, didn't know how so might as well throw it in here since half of you didn't even read this far. Listen up kids, for I am about to entail the full story of women, and how they became the greatest asset of my life, and never really in it. In this story filled with magic and bullshit, I will envelop your minds with such assfuckery, that you'll begin to question the very existence of your soul. It's mind blowing shit and most of it was thought up drunk. And possibly high....OFF LIFE. No really, I'm retarded. Anyways, I'd like to start off by thanking you all, for no reason specifically, but because you're you and you've probably excelled at living more than the average human being simply because you read my blog. So for this, THANK YOU. 

Snap out of it buddy!

The wee hours of the morning. And here I am spending it by writing this dumb blog. Honestly. Lately, as many have noticed, I haven't been myself lately. In more ways than one. I feel as if my past self is slowly drifting away and this new, shittier self has taken me by the throat. It seems that I myself, cannot control what may be. What the fuck man, snap the shit out of it, is what I'd like to say. I find myself wanting. Wanting more than I could ever possibly offer. Everything needs a fair trade in value, whether it be purchases or simple friendships, it all comes down to what you can offer the other person. Can you offer comfort? Or do you bring distaste to the table. I'm a little in between. Not only am I crabby at times and could possibly be the most annoying shit ever, but I don't really have much else going for me besides my career, which hopefully is moving in the right direction. All this doubt in one paragraph is probably making you sick, especially coming from me, cocky ass Jean Paul. Well, I'm human too.

My equilibrium is fucked.

So. I survived cancer.

Celebration of the souls combine, our lives fulfilled. Summer. Cock.

I try to become the best at what I do. It's an egotistical thing. I am a poet, in both terminology and bodily. However that comes across to you, my beautiful readers, is your own. Your own what? Fuck you I'm not your nanny. Do I look like- Okay I'm getting off topic here. What I've been trying to put into words but with suave has hidden it with distracting text to make my post seem that much bigger is, that I want to better myself day by day, challenging whatever boundaries I set for myself. Sure I'm as green as it gets and there are tons out there who could probably dominate me in every possible way. But fuck them, I'll get better, and show their shit that I can rock a kitchen like no other. I can probably adapt to my surroundings more so than most people, and get a kitchen going in days. I've always been thrown into the fire, hoping that I'll come out alive. And I always do. I've never once cracked under pressure, because I never let it get to me. I'm battle hardened for a greenhorn, but I know that I have my limits and I dare myself to break them each and every waking moment. I will make it my fucking promise to the world and to everyone I've ever known that I'll make a name for myself. Whether it be owning a restaurant, leading a kitchen, hosting a show, or just cooking better than anyone you know, it will happen. I'm cocky sure, but my humility and simplicity is what will be key to molding my future.