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Vlad 2.0...Coming soon!
I confessed my love to her. We will never be together.

My life has gone from sitcom to tragicomedy.

My soul yearns for her.

Its time to escape. Fuck this shit.
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I dont understand people. I wish I could, but I never will. I mentioned earlier that I let go of most things, but a lot of people I know dwell on things. They dwell. On trivial shit. That's what I dont understand, when people dwell on trivial shit. And while I am trying to enjoy life as much as possible they are standing next to me, dragging me down. They dwell on insignificant bullshit and have no perspective whatsoever. If God has given me anything, its the gift of perspective.

Let me explain my perspective. When I am pessimistic I simply say "Hey, it could be worse." Example: Someone at Outback is upset that they got a bad tip (10%). It could be worse, they could have gotten nothing. And when I am optimistic I count my blessings. Example: When I fucked up my knee I laughed because at the minimum, I would get a good story out of it, and the most some days off work, chillin. If niether of those work, then I think long-term. Will this matter one hour, one day, one month, one year from now? 99% of the time, NO. So stop dwelling.

The bad tip is not the end of the world. The breakup is not the end of the world. There will be other tables and other girls. You are not in an orphange in Africa dieing of AIDS. You are not under some totalitarian regime. You are living the easy life. So smile about it. And if not, dont cry to me.
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Here's the thing about love*: Love is probably one of the most powerful things in the universe. It is stronger than all the negative emotions put together. It is amazing and beautiful and all conquering. And when you are in love that is exactly what happens. You are in love.

No one says they are "in anger." Your best friend did not fall "in jealousy." No, he fell in love. He jumped off that cliff and landed in the clouds. And he's been walking on them ever since. And they've been all encompasing.

And no one wants to land once they're in love. Its better than any drug, because if all the things are going right you're in love with someone else. They are there with you. But like anything else in this world, it is fleeting. It is amazing and beautiful and powerful and yet, it slowly walks away. Sometimes if runs up to you and punches you in the stomach and you fall down and look up to find the most beautiful sight of all. And sometimes you have to run to it because its not ready for you. But all in all, it is great. And I hope each and every one of you find it and hold on as tightly as possible. Coming from a guy who lets go of most things, its worth holding on to.

*First let me say I am 20 years old, (21 in 3 weeks) and I have barely even begin to live. I have plenty more to experience but I am going to say what I can anyway.
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Sometimes I sit and stare at this blank screen wanting to spill all of my feelings onto it. To eloquently expound on everything that has been going on. Everything that has been going right in my life, and everything that has been going so laughably wrong. Life is funny. So I laugh.
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Have you ever seen the sun burst down through the clouds, creating a spotlight affect, as if God was pointing to something, shining down upon it? It’s a beautiful and somewhat rare sight. Now, have you ever stood in one of those lights? You probably have at one point or another but you did not know it. That's because in order to be able to see that God is shining down on something you have to be far away from it. Removed. You need to have some perspective to see how great that thing is. That’s why people take things for granted. They assume that everything they have is normal and ordinary and learn to expect no less. Until that thing is taken away. Then all of a sudden you want it so much more. You have no idea how blessed you are until you stop outside of the light and into the darkness.
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It was around 9:30pm Tuesday night at work, I had to climb behind the bar, and by climb behind I mean crawl under, hands and knees type of thing. They were having trouble with the computer, and I'm usually the one who can fix these things. I never got to fix the computer. What I did get to do was crush parts of a broken mug with my knee into the tile and cut up my hand. The mug had been broken during the very begining of the shift, and never cleaned up.

But I was focused. I stood up behind the bar and was about to go to the computer, but my hand and knee hurt a little. I figured my knee was fine, just went down on it hard. And my hand? Oh wow, my palm is covered in blood. I'm going to go wash it and put a bandaid on then I'll fix the computer. My knee kinda hurts. Meh, I'll be fine.

I carefully crawl back out got a bandaid and went to go wash my hand. My leg feels wet, like something is dripping down it. Why is there a huge, dark, wet spot on my knee? And a hole where my knee hit the ground? Oh its probably blood. Fuck. Fuck this hurts.

At this point I my whole right leg from the knee down is covered in blood and bloodsoaked jeans. I pass a few people and my manager, Trish, asks me whats wrong, I tell her I crushed glass with my knee and my leg is soaked in blood and she runs to grab me some towels. I get to the bathroom, pull off my pants and finally get to see whats what. After wiping and washing away the blood, which is still pouring, I find I have a hole the size of a dime right under my kneecap. I wash it again to wipe away the blood that has come out in the 5 seconds I was staring at it and slam a bandage on it.

Then, I go back to work. I get my mother to bring me a new pair of pants and socks, because blood doesnt stop just cuz you're wearing Hanes. I spend the next 2 hours still walking around. And then I spend another hour and a half closing the restaurant.

Finally at 1 am I leave. And upon advice of most of the service staff, head for the hospital. I arrive and wait in the ER waiting room for about 4 hours. Finally I'm brought back and then I get to sit around for another 45 minutes. When the doctor, a very nice guy, comes around he tells me the fifth paragraph of this post was a really really bad idea and I should have come straight to the hospital.

My knee gets xrayed to make sure theres no glass in it. I get a tetanus shot. My hand gets thoroughly cleaned up. He cleans off my leg, even though the dried blood looked really cool. And he sews up my knee. All in all, it wasn't that bad of an experience and I'll be fine in a week, but walking and stuff sucks right now.

But none of the this compares to what some people go through during their "one weekend a month". So I just suck it up.
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This is the continuation of The MILF Story. Read that first.

Now it came time to print up their check and I fed the printer and wrote "Have a great night -Vlad" on the top. And I dropped off their check and my pen, and went inside the office in the back.

I am the Head Wait server, so every server must cash out with me before they leave. I am inside the office cashing servers out and in the mean time, that table with the MILF is pulling out cash and figuring stuff out. And this is where the possibilities emerge.

I'll work backwards: When I came to the table they were gone, there was cash sitting there and the check I had given them. On the check was written "Call me babe" with a phone number. Also on the very bottom, in a different handwriting was written "Wanna get lucky?" BUT the "Call me babe" was scratched out, and the portion of the check where the phone number had been, was torn off. All that was left of the number was a 30 and a few loops.

From this we can deduce: 1)The MILF wrote down her number and wanted me to call her. But we cannot, without further evidence, figure out why the number was torn off and the "Call me babe" was scratched out. You may have noticed I said the "Wanna get lucky?" was in a different handwriting. A handwriting that I am 60% sure belongs to one of the hosts in the restaurant!

I shall see her Saturday.
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The conclusion to the MILF story will be posted later today. I would have gotten it up sooner, but I spent the last 5 hours in the ER.

That story will also be posted soon.

Now: Sleep.
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I havent used the Outback icon for a while so here's what happened at work last Monday.

I greeted and got the drink order for one of my tables, a couple and another woman. I walked back into the kitchen and when I get there I'm followed in by Crystal, probably one of my favorite people at Outback. She's this cool lesbian rocker chick and never one to cause drama and then this flies out of her mouth "Hey the lady at Vlad's table just said she wants to eat Vlad as her appetizer!" The whole kitchen erupts. Everyone's a comedian. "How long for a side of Vlad?" "Did you put in an item ticket for that Vlad entree?" "I'd like some Vlad, but make it extra hot!"

I got back out there with the tables drinks and the lady's eyes are probing mine. And since I know what's up, I probe right back. Every single time I go out of the kitchen her gaze meets mine and of course I have to make it linger just a bit, because this situation is absurd. Come on, this doesn't happen to me.

Now I'm not quite sure what I should have done in this situation, but according to Crystal, "An older woman can teach you so much." And thats why I played along. When I printed the check I left lots of extra space and I even gave them my pen, though there was no reason for them to have it, except for her to write down a phone number.

...Do you want more?
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Here's the problem with AIM and most other "chat" programs: emotion cannot be properly conveyed through them. The internet is known for its ability to suck meaning out of words. And its ability to add sarcasm to anything and everything. And that's where emoticons come in.

Emoticons. You either love them or hate them. That little colon parenthesis is all it takes to to turn "I'm gonna kick your fucking ass!" from a threat to just another way of saying "haha, you got me." But AIM, the main program of choice for the chat needs of my peers, has 16 emoticons. There's the classic smiley. And a few others that if I listed them you would say "Yeah, I never use that one, I'm a guy" [the chick one with the lips] or "No one uses that one," if I were to mention any of the ones in the 3rd column of AIMs emoticons. Go on, look at'em. I'll wait...Yeah some losers use that blushing one. Fuck them. And no one uses the angel unless theyre talking about sex or drugs so that doesnt count either.

The thing is, there are not enough emoticons to express my emotions. I need one that looks smug in its ability to put people in their place. I need one that looks patronizingly condescending. Or Condescendingly patronizing. Or how about "I need to find some hallucinegenic drugs so that I may escape this reality by changing my perceptions of it and alcohol doesnt do shit to me and my dealer is pinching weed everytime I buy from him." Or is that too narrow a niche market to make an emoticon for? So thats what an emoticon is, an emoticon. KHAAAAAAAAAN!
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Her: I dont know what you do anymore.

MetaVlad: Mainly I'm a bum.

Her: Makes sense.
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I had to go get my oil changed today, and while the car was up on the lift they noticed my car was once again fuckin’ up. So I let them keep it for a day to fix it and my mechanic, George, had to drive me home.

Here are the highlights of the drive home.

“If somebody’s signaling then I let them in the lane— ”
“Me too!” I say.
“If they not, then I speed up and hit the horn. Like fuck you buddy,” he finishes, adding the hand gesture that goes with that phrase.

“This one time, this guy didn’t signal and I passed him and it was a undercovercop. He turns on his lights and we pull over, he comes up and shows me his badge. But I was working part-time for Secret Service, so I say “I don’t care about your badge show me your ID.” And he’s says “uhhhh” and I say “Show me your ID!” and he pulls it out and I radio him in to Montgomery County police and it turns out he was an EX-cop. So they took him away and he went to jail for five years. They later found out he raped some women in PG county or something. But when my guy write up report, I tell him put his name on it, George no want glory, cuz what if he gets out and wants revenge? He’s not gonna come and get me.”

“When I was working for the Secret Secret full time we had to go down to Miami to do a drug thing. The first day we there, take down 300 cops. 300 dirty cops. There was 2 boats supposed to come to port, from Colombia. And they supposed to have fruit, but some boxes they fruit, other boxes they drugs. We knew this, cuz we had guy in Colombia, informant. But the guys on boats, these fuckin jungle boys. The jungle boys, they know how to shoot guns real good. Well some of the guys I work with, they young guys, fresh out of college. Guy come onto the boat, “Eff bee eye.” show his badge, like the jungle boys gonna just give up. But the jungle boys they shoot the guns, bam! In here [point to his forehead] and right out here [he points to the back of his head]. After I saw that man, I said “Hey I don’t wanna do this no more.” But the government guys they say to me “No, you know too much, but we only get you to work for national security issues.” And now they call me about Iraq, cuz that’s a national security issue. And Bush now he wants to go to Iran. And who gonna pay for that? You and me.”

[Later, as we pass Bowl America]
“You ever go there? Everytime I go bowling I pick up hot girl. Its good place to pick up girl. [At this time I’m thinking it’s really funny to hear “hot girl” in a thick Polish accent]. I know this guy he teach me to bowl. He show me trick how to spin ball and everything. So I am in Germany with friends and they say “Hey George, there’s this new club they have bowling, let’s go.” So we go and there’s guy there, supposed to be expert. And I play dumb and say I never been bowling. And he gonna show me how to bowl and I pick up the ball and hold it backwards. And I throw a few balls and play like I can not bowl and so guy says “Ok, if I win you buy beer for everybody.” And then I say “Ok, but if I win you buy beer and food!” and he says ok. And so I beat him and he says “Hey! You know how to bowl!” and I say “No! This is first time in life.” And he say “Ok, one more time we play.” And I beat him again and then I say “Here let me show you why you are messing up” and I show him how he throwing the ball wrong and he say “You know how to bowl!” and I say “No, this is first time, I just watch a lot of bowling video, its all in the video, the guy on video talk about thing you doing” but he no believe me.
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I am up before 3 pm which is a very unusual occurance. I now have the option of doing many great things and accomplishing many a task. What, you're probably wondering, will I actually do?

Well, after bullshitting around on the internet and planning my date with a 2 liter bottle of Southern Comfort (she's going down, I am not) I will probably take a nap and resume my routine of accomplishing 0 to .08 things.

Its good to be the king.
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Here's the premise:

metavlad is a Head Waiter at Outback Steakhouse. He is one step below Management. So he goes and applies for a dishwashing job at Glory Days Grill. If Outback is 3 steps below The Ritz-Carlton Restaurant, then Glory Days is 2 steps below Outback. Now do you understand?

The Headwaiter from Outback, washing dishes at Glory Days.
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The eye. Its staring at you.

Thanks very much to Erin (usmcvixen) for the icon.
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I am really good at burning bridges. Like, as good as Bill Gates is rich. If anyone ever needs a relationship severed then immediately cauterized, I am the man to do it.

Sadly, this is not a marketable skill. "Need someone to break up with your needy boyfriend? Call Vlad. Mother in law a bitch? Call Vlad."

And incase anyone is curious, "Have a nice life." seems to get the point across perfectly every single time. Because no matter how much sincerity you shove into it, even if you really do hope they have a nice life, its still a euphemism for "For whatever reason just popped up or has been festering for some indefinite amount of time, I do not wish to speak with you ever again."

I should teach lessons.
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Augustus had infiltrated the organization. He was going to topple them from the inside. Communication with his co-conspirators was not easy though. He had not talked to any of them in months. He had not emailed them in weeks. And he couldnt remember the last time he got laid. "Focus damnit!" he thought. "You can't be toppling a faux-good-in-actuality-evil-corporation if all you're thinking about is getting some action."

He learned all he could about how the company worked. He stayed late and came in early. He even tryed to fuck a secretary, unsuccessfully. "Focus damnit!"

Time was not on his side. His pace quickened. His heart beat which wasn't that unusual but still, it's always a good thing. "Hey Gus, I wanted to talk to you about that presentation you gave the other day," the boss said as Augustus passed by the main office, on his way to destroy the company.

"Umm, what's up?"

"You should probably consider using more blues and greens in your Powerpoints next time. Studies have shown that people tend to respond to them more positively."

"Umm, yeah, I'll take into consideration." There will be no next time you bastard.

"Yeah, and you should also implement some more kinesthetic activities. You know, to help build a group think."

"Group think, huh?" I dont groupthink this company will be around.

"Also, hey! Do you want a brownie?"

"I love brownies." I love brownies.

"Here. Anyways, you looked busy so you probably should get going."

"Yeah, thanks for the brownie!" I love brownies.

"Maybe the companies not so bad," he thought as he chewed on the extremely fudgy brownie. "I mean, there's that hot girl in marketing. Ugh! Focus damnit!"
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Levi: sometimes i say to myself "alright levi, lets wash some ramicans"
Levi: and i wash the hell out of them!
Levi: one by one at breakneck speeds

This man is dangerous and cannot be stopped.
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And for those of you unaware I shall explain.

A gangsta has class. A thug does not.

ScarfaceDon Corleone was a gangsta. 50 Cent is a thug. You cannot buy class.

Please adjust accordingly.

Addendum: It is possible to move up however. Example: Tupac started out as a thug, later went legit and became a gangsta. Had he lived, he probably would have made it to pimp (e.g. Snoop). America is all about upword mobility. Especially for the young urban black man. (See? Sense of Irony.)
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About half the things I say and half the things I do are done with a sense of irony. Not a single high five, "whats up crackah" or "Good job everybody, I love working here" is without a little bit of sarcasm and some irony. These things are cliche, but the fact that I am aware of their lameness allows me to say and do those things.

This is freeing. And yet every time I do one of these things it becomes more sincere. Each "Lets run some food" sounds more and more like my boss. I find myself asking people if they have clocked out because I want to get the off the clock so the restaurant doesnt have high labor costs.

This cannot be healthy for a 20 year old male. I'm losing my sarcastic bite and its being replaced with the voice of, shit I cant even think of a good metaphor.

I need a fucking day off. Here's looking at you, Friday the 28th.
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Here is the first thing I am posting from The Notebook. This was written while under the influence of marijuana. It was my attempt to quantify time.

"Why Perception of Time is Slowed at an Alarming Pace vs. Actual Time

When one gets high they percieve time to be moving about 3 times as slow vs what they're used to. However their intenal clock stays cues on actual biological time and tells the mind that its moving 3 times slower than reality, the mind having already percieved a time distortion by a factor of three will then modify the true perception by a factor of 3 again. This # will then be cues up as reality to the perciever. Therefore [whats written is three dots in a triangle, the mathematical symbol for therefore] If a perciever gets high then guesses 1 minute has passed his mind will experience it as 3 minutes but his internal biological clock will also modify by multiplying by 3 thus what is then cues as reality to the high perciever is "9 minutes have passed." When in actuality only 1 minute of real time was passed. "

Then I have some formulas written down. No joke. I made formulas while I was high. Here they are:

R = Real time
P = Percievers Reality
P = (3R3)

Then I briefly explain that the first 3 is the mind of high person misconstruing reality. While the second three is the mind of the high person trying to counteract what they think is false (time is going slower, so more time must have actually passed).

Yeah. Doesnt make sense to me either.

And people wonder why I say I feel retarded after I get high.
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I decided to take some classes at MC this coming semester and I think I kinda went overboard. I signed up for:

English 102
Waiting Tables 218
Bullshitting on the Internet 323
and the lab for that, Quiting Porn Sites After the Trial Offer Expires 323LB.

I'm also auditing some classes for no credit, y'know, like as an exploratory thing to see if they work out. Those classes are:

Not Doing Comedysportz for a While 105 and since I signed up for that I also signed up for
Being a Tool 302 cuz they kinda go together. Also
Developing a Cynical and Bitter Attitude Towards Existence 210

And of course, I am once again T.A.ing Having Way to Many Girls Want It 428. Yeah. Graduate level, kids.
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While randomly digging through my older sisters desk I found The Notebook I so desperately sought.

You will soon see the writings.
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Mushrooms are like pots older, cooler brother. Like Trent from Daria.
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This weekend was awesome. Before I get to that, I very much expected a whole lot more exclamations of joy that LJ is back up. Then again, its 7am sunday morning and I have yet to go to sleep. Is it odd that when I found out LJ was down my first instict was to update to bitch about LJ being down?

Friday night was spent hanging out at The Last Mango, a local bar. Amar, one of the coolest people you will ever meet, is good friends with the bouncer so we get in free and dont get carded. Normally I don't drink. This is because I am a waste of alcohol (I will drink you under the table, then be sad that I'm not drunk) and I do not like the taste of most drinks. But Amar really wanted me to take "just 1 shot" with him. What shot? SoCo and Lime (Southern Comfort Whiskey + Lime juice). I took it and it was over. My life changed. That is my drink. For those of you who are unaware because you live in Canada or are Amish, drinking is America's pastime. And for someone who doesnt drink to finally find a drink they like, it's a whole new world.

I had 10 of what I guessed to be 3.5 ounce shots of Soco and Lime in about 2 hours. Thats quite enough to fuck you up. I was slightly tipsy. Thats why I say I am a waste of alcohol, but I like this stuff so its cool. I'm thinking I'm gonna be drinking a lot more of it. Just not at a bar cuz its expensive there. I got to chill with Amar, Steve and Renee (Steves girlfriend) and it was awesome.

Saturday night Erin and I went to The State Theatre to see The Machine, "America's premier Pink Floyd tribute band," and holy fucking shit they are not kidding when they say that. They fucking rocked it. Dead fuckin on. I closed my eyes and it was Gilmours/Waters voice on the mic. AND I got their setlist. The one they actually looked at during the show.

This weekend kicked ass.
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