As much as my name means "black and white", my life is hardly that at all. I may not be a rainbow of skittles, but there is some color to it.
The following profile is a paid advertisement for absolutely no product or service at all. You know two plus two equals five, and now so will the obstreperous, obstinate nabobs of negativism under your rule... And no, this isn't an expository writing that screams "HEY LOOK AT ME! I'M DIFFERENT!". Expressing oneself via a textual medium carries different connotations than it's spoken counterpart.
Greetings denizens of RealJock Yes, I mean you, the obligatory hot guys (who probably aren't viewing my page), posers, flakes, fakes, assholes, douchebags and what not that make this website what it is. I'm your host for the evening, BJ. Or, to those that know me on a face-to-face basis "Blow Job." Yes, go ahead and snicker because I know how all of your sick minds operate. You bathe in the gutter daily, more than most should. But, then again, so do I. Nonetheless, don't be jealous of the irony. I can see it in your eyes... a gay man with who just happens to live up to his name. Hm, yes. At any rate, I suppose I'll give you a brief look into just what makes me tick for those that are interested. However, I will warn you now, this is by no means a short exposition. I reckon I hold the Guinness Record for longest profile on a Gay-themed social network... If only there were fame, fortune and success from that! Anyways, let's get this show on the road! Cue the groaning!
In an attempt to make this as over-dramatic and as cliched as possible, I'd like to point out something before we begin tonight. I am a nobody. And as they say, nobody is perfect. Therefore I am perfect. Now you'll have to excuse me if I lose track of things here and there. My mind works like lightning... one brilliant flash and it's gone.
I'm a genetically engineered over-sized dwarf (I'm tall, so note the oxymoron) that was an "accident" never intended to walk on this Earth. Yup. Momma done gone and got herself uh knocked up with the wrong guy. Cheap lazy sunbitch just up and fled when he found out she was preggers with me. Now I done never met my real pa. But I do know that I was dragged into court proceedings later on in life over a man who denied my existence. Anywho, I was ripped from my mamas womb after kickin' around for about twenty-six weeks. Yeah that wasn't a pretty site. For the math and baby-impaired, that's ten weeks premature. Lord have mercy that explains o much about me. So cue wires hooked up to me, me forgetting to breathe and then *poof* normal start to babydom. I was a food thief, a cowboy and a wannabe fashion model all at the age of 3. Yes, I was an underwear model. The only problem was I chose to wear them on my head.
The next decade or so is somewhat of a hazy blur... but eventually I wound up at the evil giraffe stage. Yes, I am an evil giraffe, and I shall eat more leaves from this tree than perhaps I should, so that other giraffes may die. Around this time, I also realized that I was Kermit the Frog in disguise. Yes, I can talk like Kermit for some reason. Just ask and I'll tell you that I'm so fucking sick of eating pork. Also around this time, I earned the dubious titles of "Pimp du Fromage" and "Dairy Fairy". Don't ask. I have weird friends. And, to make matters seemingly worse, I became a lifeform born from the sea of information. Yes, I fused with the net. Bitches be checking out my binary. Oh yeah. So, as a result of my seemingly blasphemous birth, my purpose in life has been to see that my own happiness is sacrificed in order for those around me to feel better. I'm a clown; I do stupid things to make people laugh. I have but one really effective weapon and that is laughter. Since I'm someone who knows how to laugh at himself, I'll never cease to be amused. You may laugh at me because I am different, but I laugh at you because you are all the same. I love making others laugh, even if it means making an ass out of myself. This is how I've always operated and will continue to operate. This means I can be sporadic and inappropriate. Life is too short to be serious all the time. I'll probably be just as retarded and immature acting when I'm 90, so get used to it now. If God is watching us, the least we can do is be entertaining.
Martin Luther was a German fellow who pinned a note on a church door that said, "Hang on a minute!" Actually, he was German so, "Ein minuten bitte! Ich habe einen klienen problemo avec diese religioni." He was from everywhere.
I am probably the king of corny/retarded jokes. You know, the kind that are so bad you laugh because you can't believe I even said it. I've been known to inflict many a headdesking on people. Don't know what headdesking is? Oh well then, just stop on by and talk to me for a little bit. How bad are my jokes you ask? Surely you jest! I can't be THAT bad, can I? How do you stop a rhino from charging? You take away his credit cards. No? Not that bad? what do you get from evil chickens. Deviled eggs. Is there another word for synonym? I think that laughter is probably the best quality in a person. If you can laugh at something stupid, put up with my idiocy, or partake in said idiocy, you win brownie points. In addition to my somewhat retarded demeanor, I also have a somewhat bizarre poetic side to me which comes out in both English and Japanese (with the occasional French version too). The more I become versed in another language, the more I try to use it to say different things. Natacha n'attacha pas son chat qui s'echappa. Mais oui!
Aside from my tomfoolery and goofy outward demeanor, I do have a serious side. I'm the listening ear, the loan bitch, the defacto cheese code nazi, computer guru, etc. Yes, I can be a sympathetic homo to my fag hags. Here are some stupidly random facts about me: I'm anal retentive about the way my shopping bags are packed. I still have a teddy bear, and I'm not afraid to admit it. It happens to be 24 years old and from my grandma (God rest her soul). I'm entirely too good at beer pong, even when I've had a few to drink. If I cannot make at least five people smile a day, I feel as though I'm not doing my job.
I've had the benefit of meeting someone from this website in person. He took the time to travel a considerable distance to meet me, which meant quite a bit to me. And, while unfortunate circumstances lead to our parting of ways, he once told me that, "You're stronger than you think. Just remember that 'always' is not something any of us are necessarily qualified to diagnose. All you need is the will to become a stronger man and the friends to see you safely through the hard times. I'd say you're well on your way." He probably doesn't remember those words, and if he's reading this profile and he sees this, I'm sure he'd probably laugh. They are words I believe firmly in, and it's a valuable lesson I've learned from our brief friendship. If you're reading this RC, I miss ya buddy.
Sex and death are quite close, aren't they? Sex and death, sex and death go together like a toboggan and broccoli.
Contrary to me appearing to be online all the time, I actually have a life outside of my desk, brought about by those who drag me out into the big scary place called the "real world." The light often hurts my eyes. As a result, I've fallen in love with bouldering, and I've started to make it a hobby. Falling from 20 feet up without a support line KICKS ASS! I'm still learning/training, but I love it. I also like taking long bike rides. I also jog five miles every other day, and I do have to say it's quite nice seeing the fall foliage (I was going to say foilage :P). The advantage to exercising every day is that you die healthier.
I love to bake as well as cook. I like to tinker with pre-existing recipes, as well as create my own. I always think everything I create is a failure or tastes like shit despite the praise from everyone around me. I'm planning on working on a culinary degree once I graduate (over time of course, not all at once) to really satisfy my interests. I've been told that my fudge is orgasmic and that I could have any woman in the world... oh well, their loss. :P You wouldn't want to be my roommate though, it's an assured sweet-filled demise (my cookies are like crack!) If you need to hire a chef, give me a shout =)! And I'm actually in the process of creating a menu of different offerings my non-existant-only-in-my-brain bakeshop/coffee house will have. Being a former Graphic Designer, I actually have the logo created. How messed up is that.
And to those wondering about the Pimp du Fromage notation as well as the "interest" in cheese, well I'm a Cheese Connoisseur, as dorky as that is. I love cheese and wine, I love talking about cheese. I may as well marry cheese... Well, it'd have to be swiss, it has plenty of hol--... That was briely bad. :P Ask me about cheese! I'll talk your ear off about it! What did the cheese cannibal have for lunch? Limburger. Why did the cheese lose a fight with a stone? Because the roquefort back.