Hi I’m Bob.

Hi. I’m the confused asian guy living on a slowly sinking island in the middle of the pacific ocean. To bring the reader up to speed with my life (if you care or don’t it doesn’t matter) from recent frustrations from the place I work (in a nutshell, got screwed over on a promotion that was taken from me and given to a crappy worker who bitches all the time about how unfair things are in the work place) I decided to go for a few drinks (I’m a social drinker by the way who only goes out when I absolutely have to. Meaning I’m not much of a drinker at all) to calm myself down which backfired when I got pissed off evaluating my life and drunkly decided to stab an old tv someone left on the sidewalk. So my hand slipped from the knife handle and sliced my finger. Shortly after I realized I could see bone my close friend who lives right below me in my apartment building drove me (and my gf who was with me the entire time) to the ER where then after I had to get 9 stitches that night and a note saying I can’t work for a month. To summarize my current situation, I’m currently out of work at the moment going crazy in my apartment questioning what I’m going to do with my life next being bi-polar and all, and ADD, PTSD, and other basket cases like shit that will soon be discovered in my next shrink session, but hey, on a positive note, I got hydroco/acetaminop 5-325mg which is good considering I’m a light weight and all so the drugs will help  me cope and create a distractment from my everyday realities until I can get prescribed more drugs so I can cope better in society.

Hi I’m Bob, a mixed mut of filipino, chinese, irish, german, english, spanish, and some native american all wrapped into one contradiction that is all american me on the 50th state of the great contradicting united country. Yes I am asian whatever american. I don’t speak a second language, nobody in my family does, and I’m a war veteran who enjoys a greasy double cheeseburger every so often and a fried twinky for dessert. How stereotypical can a confused common american stuck on an island in the middle of the pacific ocean get?

I work/worked as a busser for a cheeseburger joint in the hot spot for tourism right across the beach before my dumbass went and cut myself open. Not a very flattering job but it pays/paid the bills and provided medical which was the highlight of my employment (besides working with hot waitresses which I could never work up the nerve to ask out any because of my low self esteem/anxiety/parental abuse from past ect. so it’s kinda a win/lose situation for me) and yeah now that I’m temporarily out of work I don’t have the medical to see my shrink so I’m slowly going mad with mood swings that take a lot of will power to control from having a break downs in public places. Guess that’s why I choose not to go out much.

I’d like to invite you to witness my journey as I try to better myself and attempt to achieve my goals for greatness. Why am I exposing my life like so? Well first off I had the impulsive idea to do so because I have a strange feeling that I would be oddly convicted if I made my journey and my everyday experiences public. A conviction in hope that I do not give up like I’ve given up on myself so many times before. I feel that exposing this one life I have to live to whoever is reading my terrible writing will help me stay on the path to a life of acting in movies. Yes that is my goal in life I’ve always wanted to be a successful actor. You don’t like it? You don’t have to read shit then so fucking bite me asshole. It’s my life I do what I want with it because I’m the only living it. And how different is this compared to normal people who expose almost every detail in their lives on facebook, instagram and twitter? Fuck your opinion keep it to yourself.

Hi I’m Bob thanks for reading! 🙂

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