Happy Birthday!

To me! Well, you too. Because the Customers of Derpmart book is at a brand new, low price. Just for you guys. Get the e-book now for 99 cents or the book for a scant 8 bucks. Given how much of a cut Amazon takes, that's pretty much giving it away. Black in Utah is still there for 99 cents (lowest price point). That'll be discontinued soon, so if you want it, get it. Thanks for being such great fans.

So, what am working on next? Personally, I'm doing  some fiction stuff. Making up funny stuff is a lot harder than making fun of others, take it from me. I'm also starting a youtube channel with a friend. So, now you'll be able to hear me say crazy/funny stuff while playing games or doing whatever we want to do. That'll be launched shortly.

1000 Visitors

What better way to celebrate our 1000 visitors mark than with the announcement that my Customers of Derp-Mart book is now available in paper back?! Well, there's plenty of better ways to celebrate but that's beside the point. Sure, Black in Utah wasn't up to Amazon's publishing standards (Either it was all the profanity or the fact that the book was too short) but this is the next best thing.

Customers of Derp-Mart

And you know what goes great with a book? An e-book like, I don't know, Black in Utah. And, at 99 cents, you can buy this and feed your kids. No need to pick and choose any more.

Black in Utah

Ever thought to yourself "Man, I wish I could get this blog in e-book form!". Well, think no more! Actually, that's a bad idea. Continue thinking, just not about blog becoming a book because that wish has come true. Grab the Black in Utah e-book for your Kindle on Amazon.com. Or, if you'd like it for free, just read it here on this blog.

Black in Utah

And, while you're at it, why not buy my other book?

Customers of Derp-Mart

Combing my room

I've been packing my things, getting ready to leave Utah. Whenever I move I look through all my stuff and get rid of the things I haven't used. I was packing away my games into my Tub of Fun and, what do I find, my comb (combing my hair is not fun, so it doesn't belong in the Tub of Fun.). I left it in the bathroom and it disappeared. I guess one of my roommates borrowed it and gave it back by throwing it in my Tub of Fun. Who does that? Why would I look in my Tub of Fun for a comb? I could understand if he threw some weed in there. Even if I spend an entire lifetime in this state I will never understand these people.

Housing

My problems with Utah started before I even moved in. I was living in Vegas, looking for a place to live before moving. I managed to find one, and pretty close to work. That was the hardest part. My work is pretty far away from most of the housing and the ones near it tend to be owned by old folks that don't much like my kind (Am I talking about race or age? You'll never know). I was told the room was mine if I wanted it and I was ecstatic. I informed her that I'd be moving in two weeks. I needed to wrap up a few things and then I'd move in. If she had any questions or needed anything, she had my contact info and needed hesitate to contact me.

My father needed medicine so I traveled half-way across the world to give it to him (the medicine he needs to live is prohibitively  expensive in Brazil. In the US, not so much). It was not a fun trip. I had the worst bowel movements in the history of mankind on a 9 hour flight. I've had some awful experiences in life but few compare to that.

One week later, I made a quick call to check in only to discover she had given my room away. At first, I didn't understand. I told her that I was the person she was renting the room to but my heart sank when she told me the next person had moved in already. She reneged on our deal, a housing deal no less. What if I had moved up that weekend and not the next? I'd be homeless! Who the fuck does something like that?! Only in Utah, folks.

What a son of a bitch. Or daughter of a bitch, I guess. Or maybe it could be son, I did meet a transgender person. Who knows how many of those people are living in Utah. And, now that I think about it, son of a bitch is more an insult to a person's mother rather than the person. I mean, just because you're a child of a bitch doesn't make me a bitch. Even if bitchiness was genetic you'd be half a bitch.

Because of that, I'm forced to live in this house. All the experiences here. Depending on how well that e-book does, perhaps it will all be worth it. 

No Loose Feet

No, I'm not talking about the movie. I'm talking about the town I live in. Seriously, according to stgeorge.com, here are the laws that clubs must abide in the city.

1. It's illegal for any business to play music or dance between 1-6 a.m. Also, can't be open on Sunday.

Of course you can't operate on Sundays. That's the Lord's day and if there's one thing Jesus is known for is that he hates dancing.

2. You have to pay to re-enter club if you leave.

This wouldn't be Utah if the state wasn't A) Religious and 2) Monetary. As Jesus once said: Yea verily thou shalt now pay up, Bitch.

3. Noise can't be heard beyond 100 feet away from business.

There's a lot of old, crotchety people in this town and I sympathize with them because I hate young music too.

4. Restriction on  security, they have to be private security  (of course.) or be approved by the chief of police.

This one makes sense. People need to be protected. You need trained bouncers, just in case someone has too much to drink and starts making a ruckus.

5. Intoxication in a dance hall is illegal

Seriously? No drinking? Why do we need bouncers again? Whenever someone yells at me about how intrusive and restrictive government is, I agree with them and point to Utah at how much of a nanny-state it is.

Crazy in Utah

I've met some weird people in my life. A lot of weird people. But, for some reason, Utah produces a kind of weirdness that would make even the most ardent pro-lifer stop and wonder if abortion is the right answer after all. Here's the pure, uncut conversation I had with someone here. Before you ask, yes, it was a woman (I should commission a study based around finding out what's wrong with Utah women.).

Her: What do you usually do when you get into a bad mood?
Me: Play fighting games or go for a walk.
Her: What fighting games? Exercise is mood-lifting.
Me: I'm playing Ultimate Marvel vs Capcom 3
Her: I used to play X-Men and Bloody Roar 3. But those are supposed to be violent. I liked them. Now I can't.
Me: you can't because they're violent?
Her: That's the rule.
Me: The rule for the house you live in?
Her: To avoid being taken by Satan or one of his demons. You may not believe this, but a demon visited me. They're scary. These habits may have gotten me in trouble: anger, expressing anger, astrology, alcohol, nicotine, possibly caffeine, and not going to church or doing anything religious.
Her: I think Mr. Cobain's after me. We're a bit similar, but I'm turning to God instead of Satan. I don't care what people say.
Me: Kurt? How's he doing? Haven't heard from him in a while.
Her: Not good so far. He's angry, so he made something crash. God will take me before he does.
Me: He should try some anger management classes, I hear they do wonders.

  

Black in Utah E-Book

I'm in the last month of my stay here in Utah. For those of you who are fans of my Derp-Mart blog, that book is going to take a little while longer but, in the meantime, I plan on converting all the entries here into a neat little e-book to be given away for free. At least, I will if Amazon's CreateSpace will let me. If not, I'll just charge a penny or something. I spoil you guys too much, I know. It's cause I'm such a nice dude.

Cutters

There's something special about Utah where people think that they're entitled to cut in front of you in line. Maybe they only do this to me though. "I'm in a rush, got lots to do." They probably think. "What are you in a hurry for? To go home and take a hit on the bong? Yeah, that can wait."

Normally, I don't really mind. I mean, it's just a few extra moments of waiting (and they're right, that bong isn't going anywhere). The worst tend to be the old women(and they're always women) who insist on paying with a check (Do they think debit card's are the devil's plastic or something?). But this time it wasn't just a few extra moments. I headed over to GameStop, I needed a good fighting game to calm my nerves, picked up what I needed and got in line. There was only one worker in the store, helping a group of customers trading in their Xbox and games so I stepped just a few feet behind them in line. Enter Mr. Douche-canoe with his two kids. Seeing the line he thinks "there's no way a nigger's gettin served before me!" he proceeded to the other end of the counter and waits. Now normally this is the part in the story where the worker flips the guy off and tells him to go fuck himself, however this is Utah and line cutting behavior is accepted, especially against Black people (lest we get uppity and think we're equal or some crazy shit like that).

Worker: Can I help you sir?
Sir Douche: Yeah, I'd like to trade in this game and buy this one?
Worker: Ok, let me finish up with this customer trading. I thought you just wanted to buy a game real quick.

Then the worker slid right on back to the other side of the counter to continue with the Xbox trade in, completely ignoring me, the guy who had been patiently waiting these past few minutes.

You might be thinking that I'm nitpicking here and this type of thing happens everywhere all the time but I used to live in Las Vegas, Sin City, some would call it the epicenter of moral depravity and I can't recall one instance where this ever happened to me. And I normally remember things like this easily because I'm a genius but I'm also petty, taking a mental note of people who need to die should I ever gain world domination. 

Warning!

Because I work nights, I tend to sleep during the day but today I was awoken early by the sound of an alarm. Not your average alarm but one of those natural disaster alarms that they play on TV to warn you of an impending tornado, flooding or a rabid Justin Beiber fans.

Naturally, I think I'm going to die. In the final stretch of my stay here, the state has finally decided to come and kill me (I would say that the state will never take me alive but I think that's kind of the point). But all that worrying was for nothing, turns out it was just my roommate listening to his obnoxiously loud music and that's coming from someone who's a fan of the genre.

When I first moved in, I asked what the rules of the house were. Nothing about not being annoying or keeping hookers outside on the street corner where they belong or even illegal activities. The one rule that was given was to not be loud. That's it. We have one rule, just one, and even that can't be followed. 

Here's how crazy Utah is:

Only in Utah is the city north of South Jordan called West Jordan. And there's no North or East Jordan either. Seriously, some simple Utah planner said "Let's put a West Jordan above South Jordan. What about East and North Jordan? Well good golly miss molly, we're not made of money."

So, here's what we should do. We need a fund to build an East Jordan and a North Jordan. Now, I can hear your thoughts "Fel is thinking about doing something nice for Utah? Dear God, he's gone insane." No! We're going to put East Jordan, west of West Jordan and North Jordan south of South Jordan. Why would we do this? So we can point to this as an example of how ass-backwards things are in Utah.

Pop Quiz

You're sitting out on the front porch with the door wide open. Do you:

A: close the door like a reasonable and rational human being.

2: Be a fuckwad and leave the door open letting in an army of god-forsaken insects.

If you chose A, then you're a decent, competent human being who is definitely under-appreciated. If you chose B, you live in my house and I have to ask "What the fuck did you think would happen?!" Seriously, bugs just moved in. I counted 6 flies in the kitchen and I didn't even want to know what was lurking elsewhere in the house. Here's what happens when you live with stupid fuckers. They wanted to be outside so they could smoke but it's too hot to just sit out there. Their solution, leave the door open so the AC can keep them cool. Sure, every ungodly insect in the vicinity will move in but that's a small price to pay for you to get your nicotine. 

Axe would be proud.

I was heading out the door when I saw one of those white dudes sitting the couch. Wanting to be a nice roommate, I tried showing some camaraderie. 

"Sup. Your room too cold to sleep in too?" I asked.
"I don't live here. I'm just spending the night."

...Yeah,  I don't get out of my room much. In my defense, all these white guys look the same: Douche-y.

Does Utah have two mornings?

I was out in the kitchen, eating some breakfast (at 12am because I work early mornings). When my retard roommate walks in. I know, I can hear you thinking "Aren't all  your roommates retarded?". Yes, but this one was born that way.

"What time do you work in the morning?"
"I head out at 2:30." I reply.
"Is that 2:30am or 2:30pm in the morning?"

Proposal

I was proposed to the other day. This is the 2nd time it's happened in my life but this time I actually got a ring, so it's a bit more serious this time. And you'll never guess whom gave me the ring. Remember that uber-conservative, return missionary Mormon girl who has been insisting these past 3 months that we're totally going to go out eventually? Yeah, it's not her.

It was actually the road. Yeah, that thing you drive on. I found a ring while walking to work and, using the 1983 Congressional Act of Finder's Keepers, I claimed it as my own. Now I can already hear the conservative outcry "You can't marry the road. We told you, first it started with gays, then you start fornicating with animals and marrying inanimate objects.". Well, I only have one response to those people "Yes, I can."

Aside from my brother, the road is the only Black thing I've seen in Utah. We're both used to being trodden over (Before you complain, there are white lines on the road and yet no one drives on those.). So we already have that in common. In the first month of living here, I asked out 3 women. Two stood me and one says she really wants to date me and has been saying so for 3 months, so I don't need to tell you that the road is far more reliable than any woman you can find in the state. Whenever I step outside, the road is right there waiting for me (kind of creepy but at least it's consistent), I can't say the same thing about the women. And, the road is far more useful. Can you imagine driving on the side walk? Well, considering how bad Utah drivers are, they certainly can and do. But the road is useful. "But Utah women are useful too." I can hear you say. "They....um, have babies. Propagating the human race, that's important." And it is, until you remember that those are Utah Babies, so they're really just making the problem worse.

I'm sure a lot of you Utah readers are outraged, and not just because I'm a intelligent, working Black guy, thus disproving your theory that we're all stupid and lazy. But I have a very simple solution to that anger. Simply go back in time and relocate your parents outside of Utah before they have you, thus changing you from a Utah Baby to a Whatever Baby. Then, you won't care about what I say about Utah. In fact, you might even see how right I am.

A picture of the ring for those who are curious. 

Bugs

There are a lot of bugs here in Utah, and I'm not talking about the people this time.  But seriously, insects are every where. I'll be walking down the road on the way to work and I'll run into them. Naturally, I have billions of bug bites all over me, sometimes even getting bites on the bites. I'm constantly itching, so people probably think I'm getting a crack craving.

This must be the only place on the planet that has bed bugs in the toilet. I'll wake up in the middle of the night, lift up the seat (yes, I leave the seat down, ladies ;) and see 3 of them scurry around. Yeah, definitely not taking a shit now. 

Mad Man

People from Utah must think I'm always mad. I'm not always mad. I just only go outside when there's no internet and that makes me mad (the having no internet part. Outside is ok, just as long as I'm not out in the sun too long. I'm like mayonnaise, people.). Yes, my internet died again. I think Rocketnext should change their name to Kenny, because that's how often it dies. However, the company was serious about getting our internet fixed this time.

1. The outage happened on a weekday this time, as opposed to a weekend like normal, which meant we didn't have to wait days before calling customer service.
2. The president himself visited our house to fix the internet. That's calling in the big guns. Or it would be if the guy new what he was doing.
3. There is no 3, but a list of 2 seems weird and I don't want to give the appearance that I'm half-assing it on my writing (Even though that's true). 

Now, I'm honored that the president came but I would have preferred someone who knew what he was doing. Now, I'm not ungrateful. He did fix the internet. It's just that it died an hour after he did. Zombieland is the shortest movie I've seen and even that clocks in at 70 mins. Can someone point me to something in Utah that DOESN'T suck? 

P.S. My friend told me there is one thing that doesn't suck in Utah. It's the women. Great, the one thing you were hoping to suck and it doesn't. 

P.S.S. A Utah friend says that his vacuum doesn't suck either. So, two things you were hoping sucked that don't. 

So much for intelligence.

So, I ordered something online. It's shipping from Phoenix, Arizona. So I was surprised to find out that the package is currently in Denver, Colorado. That's 850 miles away. How far away is St George from Phoenix? 400. And the package still needs to travel another 600 miles to get to from Denver to me. 

I expected better from Fedex Smartpost

In a Nutshell

One question I wish people would ask me is this: Condense everything wrong with Utah into a simple mathematical equation. Of course, I'd point out this is more a request than a question but I'd still be more than happy to answer.

Underage drunkard, kleptomaniac douchebag > Stable, employed, non-criminal Black guy.

I was floored to discover that Mr. Aryan Race not only had a girlfriend but that she was Mormon. The guy is the anti-thesis of everything she stands for: No money, no morals, no future. I guess her line of reasoning must be something along the lines of "Sure, he's bad, but he can always improve himself. Whereas you will always be Black, Fel."

God Utah sucks.

Cleanliness

"Is this spoon clean?" I ask.
"Clean as shit, man." my roommate responds.

Ok, does that mean that the spoon is clean or it's as clean as shit, ie dirty?

4th of July

I didn't do anything on 4th of July, so what's this post about? This:

I don't need to tell you that my roommates are, uh, interesting. I think the mentally disabled one (I'm told retard is politically-incorrect, not like that's ever stopped me) has some kind of special powers. Whenever I'm eating, he comes out of his room and says a few sentences and then scuttles back into his room. On the 3rd of July, his "black-sense" tingled so he came out and started shooting the breeze with me.

"Got any plans for 4th of July?" he asks.
"Nope."
"My uncle is having a bunch of people over at his place. He's got this projector and a whole collection of movies on shows. There'll be BBQ and a bunch of fun." I'm thinking this is pretty sweet. I'd love to go. "Sorry, I'll be going to that, otherwise I'd stay here with you." He says, almost as if we're buddies that hang out every day. 

Fast forward to July 5th, same dude, same Black-sense ringing. My roommates have made my fatass abhor eating.

"How was your 4th of July?" He asks.
"As eventful as the 3rd."
"I had such a great time. Saw some movies. Oh and BBQ, there was delicious steak, hot-dogs, burgers." He informed me, as I'm biting into a meager sandwich. I think there needs to be a special place in Hell for these people, where they watch people eat delicious food while they starve.

Random Ramblings

My room is downstairs but diagonal to the front porch so I can hear a lot (unfortunately). Today, I overheard the housemate in charge talking to a friend about how we have standards for who he'll let stay with us. So far we've had:

1. Ex-con who wanted to give me a "Mexican Lollipop" and was the most likely person to rape and kill everyone else in the house.
2. 18-year-old, food-stealing, drunkard who could get everyone in the house arrested if the cops thing we're the ones buying him beer.
3. Obese Housemate who worked "on-the-internet" and yet was adamant about never explaining what he did, which only spells illegal or porn. I was praying for illegal. 
4. Black guy who claims to "work" (like they ever do) at a tech company at 3am in the morning and spends the rest of the day locked in his room claiming that Utah is trying to kill him.

So, where does this guy (who is not shy about sharing his illegal drug stories) draw the line? Well, one of the newer roommates who seemed clean could be a potential pedophile. Oh goodie. All we need now is a terrorist, a satanist and a KKK member and I believe we're owed our own reality TV show.

Feta Please

My best friend recently got me into feta cheese. I've started buying them at the local store for $4.99 but today I walked in and saw a 'New Item' tag placed on the feta I bought. Was it a different brand? Nope. Flavor was the same. Oh, they must be selling more in a container....that's not it. The only thing new I could see was the price, which they uped to 5.99. Maybe the New Item they were referring to was the price tag. That was new.

Night Life

You ever have one of those moments where something so weird and bizarre happens that you have to stop and think "Did that really happen?" You see, I was trying to get some well-deserved sleep, like the innocent guy that I am, but my roommate from the next wall over was busy talking to someone on the phone. The only thing I picked up was that he asked the person to pick something up along the way and some directions (which he had to give a second time because whoever it was got lost.).

When the friend arrived, they began talking loudly, from the outside, inside the house, to the living room and eventually downstairs to his room, right next to mine. The last thing I heard was something about money. And then, loud metal music began playing. And then it hit me, new person who didn't know when we lived, talk about money, loud music late at night in a house where loud music at any time is forbidden. He got a hooker. I definitely wasn't getting sleep any time soon. I grabbed my Playstation Vita and headed up to the living room.

The living room only provided sanctuary for a moment because the noises just kept getting louder and louder. She was screaming, someone was getting spanked (I sure hope there wasn't a baby down there) and in the background the heavy metal that did little to drown out the other sounds. Normally, I'm really good at drowning things out, I did grow up with a louder younger sibling after all, but this is different. No matter how into my game I got, that feeling of uneasiness remained.

2 hours later, things were finally over. At least now I'll finally be able to see what a Utah hooker looks like. I was imagining someone in a dress with a Book of Mormon and I was half-right (about the dress part, for those of you who have trouble putting on pants in the morning). Let me say this, if you're looking for hookers, stay far away from Utah. This chick was so fat and ugly, you'd have to pay me to fuck her. And that's only after I made sure that my medical costs were covered for whatever tests I'd need to take the day after. Worse yet, she was completely rude. Just walked passed me without even a hello. Just because you're a whore doesn't mean you can't be courteous, lady.

I don't know why but my roommate got frustrated with me, because he thought I was being judgmental. Which wasn't completely unfounded, I did judge him. Not for the hooker thing, I can totally get why you'd want that. But for getting someone so hideous. I mean, this had to be a dollar hooker who gave you 75 cents change back. The fact that anyone would waste money on this, it makes me loose hope in capitalism. She had a bigger gut than I did, almost a beer belly, and my ass is way finer than hers (not that I'd let him spank it, so she has that over me). Plus, if anyone should be mad, it should be me. I'm the only one in the house who had no sleep that night and I had work the next day. And I didn't even get any fun out of it. >(

With the internet down again (I just now got it back on Wednesday), almost getting heatstroke and a no-sleep Sunday due to hooker-doing not done by me. This has definitely been the worst weekend ever.

More dead internet

Remember my failed attempts from earlier to contact my internet provider? 15 times, according to my phone. Though, in their defense, I actually got through the first 3 times, it's those 12 other times that the line was disconnected. Turns out they merged customer support with their sister site and are now operating by their number. If you think that they would've contacted us to inform us of this critical change, then you clearly haven't been paying attention. I had to look up the number using my computer at work. Luckily, my boss is pretty chill about internet usage but can I just ask why, out of everyone in the house, I'm the one who had to do this? We could've had this number days ago if any one of the other 4 people in the house, all with smart phones with 4G access, had taken care of this. I finally realize why our landlord gets away with being shit, because no one here cares much for it either. It's like they just decided to give up, though being stuck in Utah, you might be able to forgive them.

Anyway, so I call the new number and asked the rep about the internet outage the company had over the weekend. It was fixed over the weekend and asked if I was sure I didn't have internet. Seriously? I told him we've had issues with the internet before in the past and that we'd needed someone to come out to fix our internet access, having already tried to fix it myself. "No, that won't be necessary." he assures me. Cue 50 minutes of doing a bunch of random shit I know won't fix it before he finally admits that we're going to need to send someone over to check it out. But I'm sure it's all my fault. I should've mentioned to the rep that I wasn't from Utah. "Oh, not from Utah, you say?" I can see him saying. "In that case, you're at least a competent human being. I'll send someone over right away. Sorry about mistaking you for a local dumbass, we don't get many outsiders in our state." Yeah, I can't imagine why. -_- 

Internet died...again.

The internet died this weekend, again. Bright and early on Saturday, but not too early. Just early enough to take most of my Saturday away but late enough that it wasn't in time to call for support. I can only imagine their Saturday hours are from 9:00am to, what feels like, 9:03. I swear, one person comes in, checks just to make sure nothing is on fire and then leaves. Who cares if the internet is working or not. It's the customer's fault, really. If they wanted great, reliable internet service, they should've chosen another provider. The fact that it is now Wednesday and the internet is still down. When I start pining for the days of dial-up because at least shit worked, you should kill yourself with your own intestines internet company owners.

With no internet, I figured I should go outside. Big mistake. Never go outside when you're in Utah. People will say that there's plenty to see. All I saw were boring buildings that you can see anywhere. So I headed to the bank and back, a round trip of a little over an hour. It was tough. I was out of shape, hot, light-headed and a bit of nausea. I didn't realize how bad it was till I got back home.

First of all  it was 115 degrees outside. I had no idea because, like I said, my internet was down and my landlord felt like a thermometer is beneath him. He's in this to make money, not to ensure his tenants can survive, that's our responsibility. My shirt was completely soaked. I looked like I had just jumped in the pool, which sounded great. The only reason I even found out of the temperature was because my friend told me also along with the fact that I almost suffered heatstroke. It's nice to know that when the people of Utah aren't trying to fuck me over, the environment is.

Even my mind abuses me

Me: I'm hungry.
Inner Me: How about some fried chicken?
Me: We don't have fried chicken.
Inner Me: The store does.
Me: Are we really going to go to the store just for fried chicken?
Inner Me: We can buy a few other things if it makes you feel bad.
Me: I think we're going with cereal.
Inner Me: I'm going to fill your mind with cocks if you don't go.
Me: Do you mean chickens or...
Inner Me: You won't know until it's too late.

Shame

There are very few things in life I'm ashamed of doing. My friends can tell you that. Blaming others for my faults and problems. No problem. Constantly whining. Well, I was born whining. Buying enough cotton candy to kill an entire busload of diabetic kids? Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Asking out that transgender woman. I'm a free-loving, adventurous guy. Purchasing anal warts cream. Hey, it could happen to anyone. But the hardest thing I've done, by far, is buying fried chicken.

Normally, I have friends buy it for me and I hide in some corner as they pay the cashier (also, I mooch off friends but I repay them with my friendship so it's all fair). But I don't have that luxury here in Utah. I've resisted buying fried chicken for almost 3 months now but the deli at my local store finally drew me in. Here's how it went.

Deli Worker: Hi, what would you like?
Me: I'm still deciding.
Inner Me: Still deciding? Whatever. Get the chicken!
Deli Worker: Ok, just let me know when you're ready to order.
Inner Me: C'mon, we both know you want the cock.
Me: That doesn't mean what you think.
Deli Worker: Sorry?
Me: What would you recommend?
Inner Me: She would recommend the chicken!
Deli Worker: The chicken is really good.
Inner Me: See? Get the chicken!!
Deli Worker: The bean burritos are a delicious option for vegetarians.
Inner Me: Vegetarian? She's insulting you. Get the chicken! Bawk bawk!
Me: I'll get the chicken.
Inner Me: Wohoo! Chicken, chicken, chicken! Can't wait to get those cocks in my mouth.
Me: Why you do this to me? :'(

Is there anything you readers are ashamed of buying? 

Running into a Cop Part Deux

Every day, at 2:30 in the morning, I walk to work. That might sound scary to you but remember, people are scared of me. So I always feel safe, except for that one time I saw a cop car making patrols. I tried to walk as nonchalant as possible, which only caused me to walk so awkwardly I could've been an a worker in The Ministry of Silly Walks.

After following me for a minute, the car drove about 100 meters ahead of me and parked on the side of the road. I had to keep walking at the same pace. If I ran or turned around, the police would know I was up to something. Luckily, after I passed the patrol car, the officer took off to watch the other 2 Black people in Utah. Thank goodness he did, I wasn't sure what would happen if the police stopped me.

Officer: Where we headed this late at night, son?
Me: Just going to work, officer.
Officer: Haha, a Black guy working. Selling drugs isn't a job. Get in the car!
Me: Can I at least call my boss?
Officer: That joke isn't as funny the second time, boy.

The worst part is that I wouldn't be able to contact an attorney until morning, so I'd be stuck sharing a cell with Akbar.

Akbar: What are you in for?
Me: Walking around at night while Black.
Akbar: That's harsh, man. They caught me having sex with my patio. I'm a sex addict.
Me (slowly scooting away): Good for you, dude.
Akbar: Bend over and grit your teeth.

And now I need a dental appointment too. 

Internet Troubles Redux

I finally got the balls to go out. Out of my room and ask one of my mates about the internet constantly dying, not go outside. That would take a miracle or a woman being interested in me (I am running low on water so maybe it's time I ask someone out again.). The problem stems from too many people trying to use the internet at one time. And too many constitutes any number greater than two. Word? We live in a house with 5 men. Who in their right mind would think "Yeah, they won't use the internet much."? So the internet dies for several minutes before coming back online. This makes playing or doing anything that requires a stable online connection impossible. Good bye League of Legends and every other game I enjoyed to play online.

My roommate says they talked to the landlord about it already and he's not going to change providers because he "gets a deal on the internet". Imagine if I went to a restaurant and ordered a steak and potatoes dinner for 4.99. Great deal, right? Except when the plate shows up, it's just a hamburger patty and a half-baked potato with a block of unmelted cheese on top. Not such a great deal anymore, huh?

The landlord, ever the genius he is, did offer a solution: Don't use the internet very much. I'm not sure if this is supposed to fix the problem or just get us to leave him alone (I'm putting my money on that last one). I just pray this guy isn't a doctor because I can totally imagine this scene happening:

Patient: Doctor, I can't stop shitting in my pants.
Landlord: That's a simple solution, just stop wearing pants. That'll be $200.
Patient: The problem isn't where I'm shitting, it's when. As in, all the time. Can't you give me a prescription?
Landlord: Listen, I became a doctor to make money, not help people. Any solution that causes me to do actual work is out of the question.

To make matters worse, you still have to pay him the $200. That's business as usual in Utah for you.

That's not even the worst part. Sometimes the internet dies because...well, fuck it. Just this Sunday, Father's Day, the internet died with everyone but one person left in the house. This type of problem is rarer but far more serious than the one I described before because it doesn't restart on its own. Unplugging the router does nothing as well. It just stays offline until we call someone down to fix it, which can take anywhere from several hours to several days depending on how busy they are. And you better pray it doesn't break on a weekend (like it always seems to do with us). The company hours are only during Mon-Fri. They do throw two tricks at you by saying they are open on Saturday but they're only there from 9-12, so they might as well not bother. Who the fuck is up that early on Saturday? But, they say, we have after-hours tech support. Well, they say they do, but I have yet to talk to any of them. I always request to talk to them, I get put on hold for 5 minutes before a machine tells me that there is no support. Sometimes I wonder if this is deliberate because there's no way an internet service in America can be this shitty. There has to be someone on the other side doing it for shits and giggles. I've lived on an island in the middle of nowhere for a decade and even there internet was far better than this.

Last time, the internet company had to come out and fix things. Fix things they did but not on the day that the internet broke. I guess they just assumed that everyone in our house went on vacation or were brutally murdered (thanks for caring, assholes). The last time they came out they moved the router into the one room that no one is allowed inside because Mr. Retard throws a shit fit when anyone comes close (Like we haven't already gone inside to repair the router). Worse yet, the wireless capabilities is quite poor, giving me 3 bars most of the time, sometimes 4 if I do my sexy naked dance to the router. Needless to say, I'm getting far weaker internet, less often. So I explained the situation to the guy and kindly asked for him to put the router back in the living room where it once was. He said that was fine but we'd need a 50ft cable coming across our living room from where the access point is. I'm totally fine with that because I hardly ever leave my room. But, like an idiot, I forgot that this is Utah. Nothing is free. He had a cable we could use out in his van, it would just cost money. You heard right, the company is charging us to fix the mistakes they make.  This would even be funny on April Fools. Imagine if you contracted a cleaning crew to visit your house and they did their job and, in the process, took a giant dump right in the middle of your family room. And then, when you confront them to clean up the crap they just made, they charge you extra for it because you only purchase the "shit service" not the "shit removing service" and the company certainly can't be blamed for any mistakes they make while on the job. In a capitalist system, this would be the scene where you grab the router and shove it up his ass and bid him good day but, unfortunately, I can't do that because the landlord is in charge of our internet not me. Though he's not as dumb as he seems, he purchased decent internet service for his house.

The problem this time was something a bit more simple. There was a way to reset the router by pressing a button on the back. I would've done this but my retarded roommate through a shit fit when I tried to go into his room to fix it. He locked himself in, insisting that he already tried everything and that I would just have to call the internet company again. That's right, not only did he not let me fix shit, he insisted on forcing me to call the internet company myself to only be told that the solution was what I originally said. What could've been fixed in a minute by me instead needed to wait nearly 24 hours because one person can't handle anyone in his room and is too much of an imbecile to fix it himself. I was tempted to beg the repair man to take me with him when he left.

If you had to create a custom hellhole for me, I would be hard pressed to come up with a worse place than the one I'm living in right now. You know, I hate traveling but I want to travel to all 50 states just so I can say that Utah was the worst state ever I had ever been to and actively lobby for us to remove it from the union, by any measure possible. That's how much I despise this state. Fuck Utah.

Running into a Cop

I ran into a cop at the store. Well, not actually ran to. We crossed paths, he was on his way in and me my way out. I panicked a bit when we encountered each other.

Me (thinking): Don't say you have weed. Don't say you have weed. Don't say you have weed. Don't say you have weed. Don't say you have weed. Don't say you have weed.
Officer: Afternoon.
Me: Afternoon, officer.

The worst part is that I actually don't have weed. Can you imagine what would've happened if I blurted that out. At best, I would've gotten a strip search, at worst it could've been a national catastrophe.

Officer: He said he had weed, chief. So it was natural I strip-searched him.
Chief: He must be the only Black guy in the country without any. Maybe he just wanted to be touched. Lets leak this to the press and call it a day.

*Later that evening on Fox News*

Anchorman: A black guy admitted to having weed in front of a cop. If you think that's bad, imagine how much worse he looked when it was determined he didn't actually have any. Police say he's just a sexually frustrated homosexual looking for kicks.
Blond Bimbo Anchorwoman: His parents must be so ashamed, Gene.
Anchorman: Even after the altercation, he insists he isn't gay.
Anchorwoman: Yeah, and I'm not a whore.
Anchorman: Haha, of course you aren't. Onto more important news, Kim and Kanye's new baby North West.
Anchorwoman: Why does that sound familiar?
Anchorman: It's a direction, Melissa.
Anchorwoman: No, that's One Direction.
Anchorman: If you weren't a leggy blond with a nice set of tits, your life would be meaningless.
Anchorwoman: My father says the same thing.

And they would both have a hearty laugh while dying a little inside.

Dreaming

Just being in Utah has messed with my mind in ways that I never imagined. For one thing, I'm actually starting to have dreams now, so I'm guessing there's something in the Utah water. You might think it's odd that Black people don't dream but remember what happened the last time one of us had a dream. We got shot for it. It's just a natural evolutionary response mechanism.  When we do have dreams, they fall into one of two categories:

The first category are sexual dreams. I won't go into too much detail and you'll see why in a moment. Most of these involve me with women. Either she'll reject me right out and the dream ends there, or we get naked and she changes her mind. Sometimes she even makes us some bullshit excuse.

   "Oh, I just remembered. I have to move to another country."

and she'll disappear, literally. Just, poof, thin air. I even had a dream about my wedding. My fiancé went to go by a cake. She had been gone for four hours. Everyone was mad at me, accusing me of making everything up just to get free wedding presents (I could use a toaster, but I didn't get one). That's some cold shit right there. Even in my dreams, I can't get with anyone. Worse yet, I gave my fiancé 5k to spend on the wedding and I had nothing to show for it. For 5k I could've bought the best escort on the planet. Now I'm 5k more broke than I was and I don't have sex or anything to show for it (the guests took their gifts back).

The second category are violent dreams. Just last night I had a dream, infiltrating some bad dude's hideout. My partner (he's white, wearing a suit. I'm in shirt and pants) and I work our way in. We find our informant dead, he was hung. We busted out of that place, with gangsters on our tail. We duck into a warehouse, sat in the corner and hoped they didn't find us. Unfortunately, the first warehouse they checked was the one we were in. They'd see us for sure as soon as they made it to our corner. Whoopi Goldberg and Joy Behar pull into the warehouse in a car, shooting randomly. Brent Spiner (Data from Star Trek) pulls up in his own Oldsmobile as well. A few more people in suits follow them on foot. This has to be the weirdest crime organization I have ever seen.    

"Shit, this is the end. The black guy always dies!" I cried.            

  "Pull yourself together! Call in some backup." my partner ordered.            

   "Help!" I yelled into the walkie-talkie. "Help, motherfuckers! They're coming to kill us."            

  "Calm down, agent. Where are you?"            

   "In some warehouse. Oh, I just shit myself. I can't stop crying."            

   "Our show's over in 5. We'll be there to back you up after." they replied.            

   "Guess we'll just have to shoot our way out." My partner concluded pulling out a gun.            

"I don't have any firearms. They never gave me one."            

"Black guy with no guns? Wow. Well, just point and pretend to shoot. Maybe that'll scare them."

You know how ridiculous I looked, pointing at people going "pew pew pew"? But I was desperate and I figured it wasn't the weirdest thing I did. I was just hoping I didn't die because I know exactly how my funeral is gonna go.

        "Fel got shot." My friend would start the eulogy. "We all knew it was going to happen eventually, but at least he died in the line of duty. His last words were, and I quote, 'pew pew pew'. This nigga thought he could get away with pretending to shoot people.  He was the only Black person in America who wasn't packing heat. Unconfirmed but they say he was crying and he shat himself. So, don't get too close to the body."

It'll be the first funeral that will double as a stand-up comedy act. 

My partner poked out from the corner and started capping people's asses without the need to reload. After clearing a wave, he ran to the other corner to shoot people from there. I did the sensible thing and kept my ass hidden as fuck. But that didn't help me much because Brent Spiner managed to sneak up on me. I tried to pew pew pew him with my finger gun and he repaid the favor by shooting me in the shoulder with his real gun. Of course I get shot in my own dream. I had nowhere to run and death seemed inevitable but then his wrist watch started beeping.            

     "Smoke break." he said. Pulled out a packet and started smoking right there.My partner slid back into our corner and shot Brent's ass.             

     "Why did he stop shooting you to smoke?" My partner asked.            

    "Well nigga, sometimes you gotta smoke. I don't know." was my reply.

And that was the end of the dream. At least that one had a happy ending, right?

Internet Troubles

As you may have noticed, my internet was out the entire weekend (I'm hoping you noticed. What if I got raped and killed? I need someone to notify the police.) To make matters worse, the Ex-Con offered me a "Mexican Lolipop". For those of you who don't know what that is: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=mexican+lolipop Ah hell no! To make matters worse, he starts bragging about his night. He had a few drinks and then had sex. Seriously? Nigger, you're 40, just got done living with your parents, unemployed, no money who would even consider doing such a thing with you? I must be in Hell. I'm in Utah, surrounded by sexy racist white women and there's no internet. "But Fel," I can hear you say "The women aren't racist in Utah, you just need to ask them out." And I'm more than willing to respond to that, just give me a moment to stop laughing at your ignorant ass.

Ahahahahahahaha.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Ok, I'm good. I'll have you know I actually asked out 4 women to the movies and left my number with a waitress. No call from the waitress and none of the women wanted to go to the movies with me. No one wanted me to pay for them to watch a movie and the only thing they needed to do was sit next to me. Even women who hate me take up that offer, granted the last time I went to the movies with a chick here in Utah she put two seats between me and her (true story but she was Asian, not White. Asians can never pass up a good deal.). And yet this guy got pussy for free? And you have the balls to claim Utah women aren't racist? Not even Obama has that much audacity. Moving on to another roommate. One retard moved out before the internet died (how suspicious) so now our house is down to just one retard, which is below average for a Utah household. But our retard is picking up the slack. I was eating lunch on Sunday and he came up to me and informed me that the internet was out. I told him I knew. It had been down all weekend. I tried calling the company but there's no one there on the weekend. He nodded and headed off, only to return a few minutes later to tell me the internet was out. I think he's broken. Though this time he did ask me a question. "Is your place hiring?" I didn't know, it's not like we post wanted posters in the office. So I told him to check the website. "I can't do that." Why not? "The internet is down." Mother******. I wish the story ended here but it doesn't. Later that night, I just got up from sleeping and he told me the internet was back up. Now I'm excited, like a crack addict who just got a hit of the stuff. I run back to my room only to discover that the internet is still down. I run back up to ask him about it. He says the internet works just fine on his phone...that has 3G. I think we need to put him down like Yeller. And I would've but the Ex-Con was there, laying down on the couch, shirtless. -_- Well, the weekend of over, my ass is unraped and the internet is back. I'm not gonna lie, it was scary for a few moments there.

Dating

On occasion, women in Utah will agree to go out with me despite the fact that I have a genetic disease (took me a while to realize that being Black was a disease in Utah.). Dating Mormons is quite a unique experience, let me tell you that. I think everyone should experience it a few times. I try to come off less threatening. I don't ask for her address (she might think I'm a stalker). We just agree on a date and a place. And, to make things familiar to her, I make sure the restaurant is NOT KFC or Popeye's. I make sure to show up to the restaurant a little early, just in case she does. I'd hate for her to have to wait for me.

            "Can I take your order now, sir?" the waitress will ask me eventually.

            "Nah, I'm waiting for my date. I'll just continue nursing this water." I reply, taking a sip.

            "What time was she supposed to meet you here?"

            "7:00. She's probably running a little late."

            "Sir, it's 9:30."

            "So she should be along any minute then, right?"

            "I don't think she's going to show. I'm sorry."

            "Damn!" I say, lowering my head.

            "Is there anything I can do for you?" she asks, putting her hand on mine.

            "Yeah, can I get this water to go? The water at my house is shit."

Considering how often this tends to happen here, I should start bottling the water and reselling it. I could make a fortune. I could even write a book on how to get rich. 

           Step 1: Get moderately wealthy. 

           Step 2: Get suckers to buy your Get Rich book. 

And I'm not even sure Step 1 is a pre-requisite. I doubt anyone's going to double check. 

Jogging and Ordering

Someone gave me some requests and I'm desperate for any love and attention.

Jogging in Utah while Black

I'm not sure why I got this request. Black people don't jog. We run, most of the time away from the police. And I'm a Black gamer, so I can't run more than 10 feet without feeling like my lungs are going to burst. In fact, just imagining myself running away from the police causes me to sweat.

Ordering Fast Food in Utah while Black

There I was, waiting in line, completely indecisive. Luckily, there were 3 others in front of me. Plenty of time to order. Ok, I'm not completely indecisive, but I'm the only Black person here and I think people would look at me weird if I got some chicken. Maybe I should just act thirsty and get a drink? The buffer of 3 people became 2. Ok, no chicken. Why does it seem like everything on the menu is chicken? Damn Black eyes, concentrate! That was quick, only 1 person left. Think, Fel, THINK!

            "Can I take your order, sir?"

****!

            "Yeah, I'll have a salad." I ordered.

            "No chicken?" the cashier asked me.

            "What makes you think I would want chicken?"

            "I think we all knew that you were going to order some chicken the second you walked through that door."

            "So you think that just because I'm Black, I'll want chicken.

            "No. I think you want chicken because you walked into a KFC."

The people behind me, I can hear their heads shaking. One even whispered "He must be high as shit right now."

            "Yeah, I'll have some chicken."

            "Breast or thigh?"

            "I'm Black, my women come with both."

            "I'm talking about the chicken."

You see why I hardly ever go outside?

Getting a pizza delivered in Utah while Black

Thankfully, I was blessed with a White voice. So the pizza guys don't know I'm Black until I open the door. Only then does the confusion set in.

            "Oh, sorry for bothering you, sir. I must have the wrong address."

            "No, you have the right place."

            "No, this isn't a BBQ Chicken pizza, this is sausage."

            "That's what I ordered. I love putting big pieces of meaty sausage in my mouth." I say and wink at him. Which causes him to drop the pizza and run away. Free pizza with no coupon required. At least, that's what I thought would happen. The guy winked back and invited himself in. Luckily, he left after I paid him. Can you imagine if I had no money?

            "So, I don't have any money to pay for this pizza."

            "Oh, I can think of a different way for you to pay for it."

My friends would never let me live that down. Even at my funeral, one person's eulogy would include that nugget.

            "I think we all remember that time when Fel turned gay to pay for a pizza. We knew he was Black but who would've ever guessed he was such a hardcore Jew as well."

And everyone would laugh and laugh. Thankfully, I'll be dead because the shame would've been too much  for me.

A slight embellish on how it feels to be Black in Utah

I start my day with a 64oz big gulp filled with depression. "Oh right," I'll say to myself. "I'm living in Utah." I get up, shower only for some dickwad roommate to start washing his clothes right as I step in. So, no hot water. I get dressed and step outside. The sun instantly vanishes. Just because I have dark skin doesn't mean I want everything to be dark. The officer that's been assigned to do 24 hour surveillance on me lets out a cheerful greeting. "Mornin' Nigger!" I reply with a "Morning officer". I head off to wherever it is I decide to venture to today. The officer follows me in his squad car. I asked for a ride before but he's been forbidden to give me rides. They're cops, not taxi drivers. 

I head to the store, I need to do some grocery shopping. I always shop at the same place because I feel guilty. This first store I visited when I moved in, forcing the manager to hire an extra employee just for me. Sometimes he regales me with trivia. "You know, we're the only grocery store that has a security guard in Utah?" I ask him why that is and he was quite frank with the answer. "Some Black guy moved recently." And then he'd point me to where the fried chicken was. He must be psychic because that's exactly what I wanted. The chicken here is super cheap. $1.79 a pound. Unfortunately, Utah has a "Black Tax" on all purchases so that 1.70 is actually $12.44. Occasionally, I ask the officer following me to buy the chicken and we split the chicken. I get 3/5s for every 1 he gets. 

I head straight home. I don't want to cause any trouble. Occasionally, someone will approach my officer with a request. "Officer, thank goodness you're here. My house is being robbed!" a senior citizen lady reported. And he leaps into action, with me handcuffed to his belt so I don't run off. The officer busts into the house and whips out his gun, flashing it in all directions. Once he sees the robber, he lowers it immediately. "Ma'am, you're not being robbed." he informed her, as the robber walks past him, out the front door with an HDTV. "Yes I am!" she insisted as the robber brushed past her back into the house. "Look at that guy. He's white." "So?" "So, he's not robbing. He's just borrowing without asking. I can't arrest him for that." he said, just as the robber punched an old man trying to stop him from taking the last VCR in the country. "And what's that called?" "Just playing around. Boys play rough." "He hit my husband!" she shouted in disbelief. "Listen lady, if I arrested every white person in Utah who borrowed or played rough, our prisons would be too overcrowded. That's space that needs to be saved for spics and niggers." "Speaking of which," the old man said, nursing his cheek. "I want that one arrested for trespassing." "Sure thing, sir." the officer replied. "Wait a minute! I was forced to come here, I'm attached to you!" I defended myself. "There you go making excuses again."

Then I'll sit in jail for a few hours, till the DA comes in with a plea bargain. "If you confess to murder, the state has agreed to let you go without repercussion. The governor's relative just killed her boyfriend again and we need to blame it on someone." I've lost count how many times I've confessed. Once it went over 20 I just lost interest in keeping track. I walk home to my house on the other side of town (remember, they're not a taxi service). Get home, smoke some weed, go to sleep before getting up again tomorrow and doing it all over again.

St George

So, I've been here in St George for 3 weeks. I'd like to sum up my feelings about the town with one picture of the mayor.

Look at that dude. Even he doesn't look happy to be here (he looks high, in fact) and he runs the place. I can just imagine him saying "Damn, why can't I manage St George from a hip-happenin' place, like Vegas?" And don't think I purposely chose an unflattering photo of him. That was the picture posted on the city's website. THAT was the best picture of him. If the mayor isn't pleased about living here, how am I supposed to be?

Enough about St George, lets talk about housemates. There's 4 others in this place. 

Andrew - The first person I met, because he hardly ever leaves the house. He doesn't talk much and is kind of slow when responding. It's like having to wait for someone to respond by mail. I don't know much about him, other than he says he makes money off his website. He won't tell me what his site does. So, I make sure to stay far away from his room.

Jonathan - He's the dude that got me and a white guy mixed up (remember that status?). Maybe he's color-blind in the true sense of the word. I see him the least, since he's in college and works at K-Mart. When I moved in, they mentioned someone was 35 years old and I assume it's him, since he's the only one with gray hairs. He mumbles a lot when he talks and, like Andrew, doesn't seem too bright (Is there something in the water?) Every once in a while, he'll stand there and stare at me for a few moments. As if to say "Tonight, YOU!" And that's why I lock m yroom before going to sleep.

Brian - A really nice dude, even if he's missing a few teeth. He's from Oahu as well and definitely the most normal out of all of us. He's just in St George to be near his kid. I assume he does some type of work because he's out of the house during the day (some part-time job just to pay the bills) and watching TV when he's home at night. I imagine this is how my dad would be if he did meth. 

New Dude - I don't know this guy's name. He just moved in a few days ago. He seems friendly enough, he offered me a free smoke (if I die, don't bury me in this town). He got kicked out of his parents' place. "They got tired of my $#@!" he says. Though, don't feel too bad for the guy, he's in his 40s. Also, he's unemployed. This house just attracts winners.