$LAYYYTER
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AnasAbdin

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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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Sweet Seals For You, Always

JBB: An Artblog!
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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One Nice Bug Per Day

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@geniewithabenie
My activity on tumblr has taken a tumble.
I’ve been dropping a lot of C-bombs lately. Not sure what that says about me.
In episode 5 of #Conquered4Life @ctconquered and I talk about two star generals, singing for #DrPepper, music purchasing trends of the kkk, and crying while playing #TheLastOfUs. We're on iTunes, Soundcloud, and at christophertheconquered.com #NotThatFamousYet
“I don’t need to see it.” - Me
When you work in a highly structured office environment, things can get a bit dull. A lot of your co-workers will likely be very vanilla - very greek yogurty - but some won’t.
When I first met him, I expected him to be bland. I was wrong.
The most deranged, sexual deviant that I’ve ever met is a guy that spends hours in meetings, staring at dual monitors, and deciding which tie to wear in the morning. I have heard that people like him could be the ones to really surprise you, but I had yet to actually experience that. Now I know too much.
My mind has been blown and there is no piecing it back together.
. . . who else in the office could do the same?
Irrational Hatred Between The Stalls
I hate hearing people use the bathroom. I hate knowing that people can hear me use the bathroom. Clearly public restrooms are not my friend. If I ever step foot in a bathroom that has a fan, then I immediately turn it on regardless of what I'm doing in there. This has been going on for years and I haven't a clue as to when it started or why. One thing that I do know is that this hatred/habit/thing isn't going to change any time soon. So please, quiet down in there and pretend like I don't exist for a few minutes when it is my turn to claim the throne.
The music-based podcast that I co-host, Conquered 4 Life, is now on iTunes. Typing that will always feel cool to me..
Just a Tip (For Just the Tip)
Don't have sex with someone who you couldn't comfortably introduce to another human being.
If I had to give my penis a name, then I think that I'd call it "Richard" - sure looks like a dick to me.
I Own About 40 Percent of a Mannequin
She has a head, torso, and left arm - that’s it. Currently she is propped up against a wall in my apartment, sporting stickers for a kids shoe company on her nipple-less boobs, wearing a knit cap, and holding a 1990 Playboy desk calendar in her lone hand.
How much did she cost me? Absolutely nothing.
What the hell am I going to do with her? I have not a clue.
Has seeing her presence upon turning the lights on ever scared me? Every single time.
Does she have a name? Not yet, but I’ve been trying to come up with one.
Why did I write this post? 1. I felt like it. 2. I’m waiting for my laundry to be done. 3. There is no three.
Tie Optional
Suit: You don't want to climb the corporate ladder?
Jeans: I'm afraid of heights.
Quoting Myself to Myself
"This doesn't feel like Des Moines. This feels like Illinois. This feels like Hinsdale or Oakbrook or someplace and I don't like it. I don't like it. That last place had a dress code. They wouldn't let us wear hats. I hate this place. I hate West Glenn." - Me five minutes ago, having a less than stellar time bar-hopping.
I'm now co-hosting a podcast. Conquered 4 Life can be found on soundcloud every other week. We talk about music, life, and my inexperience. Here is the link to episode 1: https://soundcloud.com/ctconquered/conquered-4-life-episode-1-unhealthy-emotional-investments-and-papa-roach-fraternity-paddles
Fucking Flying Archer Babies
How many people have died alone because the love of their life was shot in the back and killed by Cupid?
Disturbing Detail of the Day
I had to listen to one of my bosses take a shit. The man is vocal on the can.
I (don't) Have "Gun Fever"
This didn't happen.
As a child I fancied myself a military buff. I loved building model tanks and ships plus my favorite places to visit during vacations were war museums. Movies like "Saving Private Ryan" and "Blackhawk Down" cemented themselves as personal favorites while I definitely shouldn't have been watching them.
I've been playing video games since I was 2-years-old and shooters have eaten up a lot of my time. During college I spent dozens of hours researching firearms on the internet and talking to friends about what we should buy some day. Despite all of this, I had never fired an actual gun . . . until now.
Every fiber of my being believed that I would feel empowered, even relaxed, the moment that the first bullet left the cartridge. Reality, however, had other plans.
I knew that the gun would have some real weight to it. I knew that it would be loud. I knew that there would be recoil. Once I stepped into the booth, prepared myself, and squeezed the trigger for the first time, none of what I thought that I knew mattered.
It was terrifying. I was genuinely afraid of what was in my hands and its potential.
I was dressed to impress, just not with a gun.
After emptying a six round magazine, I proved to be about as (in)accurate as a stormtrooper. My body was noticeably moving in anticipation of the next shot. At one point I definitely closed my eyes as I fired down my lane (don't do that. Really don't do that).
I got a little bit better over time but never found a groove. Each passing moment seems to be relieving and inducing stress at the same time. Beforehand I did not expect to handle things the way that I did but perhaps I should have.
Super cars are amazing (I promise this is going somewhere). Stunning to look at, incredible to drive, and out of reach for 99% of people. I would love to sit behind the wheel of one but if given the opportunity I would probably be scared the entire time. It's likely that I would either wrap the car around a tree or drive painfully slow the entire time and fail to enjoy a single moment of it.
Guns = Super Cars
Despite this sad realization and the lack of skill that I displayed, I would like to go again; see if I improve at all or at least feel more in control. At the very least I'll just be sure to head to the range straight after work (again) so I can win the imaginary award for best dressed.
. . . also, it was a 9mm beretta for those who care.